MASARYKOVA UNIVERZITA

FILOZOFICKÁ FAKULTA

SEMINÁŘ DĚJIN UMĚNÍ

Bc. Veronika Tvrzníková

RITUAL, BODY AND PERCEPTION: A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON THE ORTHODOX BAPTISTERY OF RAVENNA

Magisterská diplomová práce

Vedoucí práce: doc. Ivan Foletti, M.A., Ph.D.

2016

Prohlašuji, že jsem magisterskou diplomovou práci vypracovala samostatně s využitím uvedených pramenů a literatury.

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At this point, I would like to express my humble gratitude to those who helped me to push my research forward, as well as to those who gave me much needed encouragement. In the first place, I am truly obliged to my tutor Ivan Foletti, not only for leading my steps through this thesis with enthusiasm and generous support, but especially for the many great opportunities he provided me with.

I am obliged to the organizers and participants of the workshop Sensorial Experiences: Christian Initiation and Sacred Space, held in July 2016 in the Bibliotheca Hertziana in Rome, for their remarks that helped me to organize my thoughts and find unforeseen perspectives. I would like to thank Ladislav Kesner, who guided me through the vast literature on cognitive science and enabled me to have a stab at an experimental research, and Ondřej Jakubec for his helpful approach in times of need. My thanks belong also to Adrien Palladino, who did not hesitate to give me a critical feedback during the formation of this thesis and gave me a hand with language corrections.

Last but not least, a great portion of gratitude belongs to my family, for their unconditional support and patience during my studies, as well as to my dear friends, who were willing to discuss my ideas and doubts and encouraged me in times of desperation.

Contents

Introduction ...... 6 1. Specifying approach ...... 9 1.1. Art historical background ...... 9 1.1.1. Art and liturgy: performativity and hierotopy ...... 9 1.1.2. Beholder-centred approaches: visuality and the senses ...... 11 1.2. Perception and cognition ...... 13 2. Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna: meeting the object ...... 15 2.1. Architecture ...... 15 2.2. Interior ...... 17 2.3. Decoration ...... 18 2.4. Perception ...... 24 3. Ritual of baptism: transforming the space, activating the body ...... 28 3.1. Primary sources ...... 30 3.2. Catechetical instruction ...... 31 3.3. Easter Eve: revealing the mystery ...... 36 3.3.1. Undressing: question of nudity ...... 37 3.3.2. Apertio: Opening of the senses ...... 38 3.3.3. Pre-baptismal anointment ...... 39 3.3.4. Renunciation of the devil and acceptance of Christ ...... 40 3.3.5. Entering into the Baptistery ...... 41 3.3.6. Consecration of water ...... 44 3.3.7. Immersion into the font ...... 46 3.3.8. Dressing into white garments ...... 48 3.3.9. Unction of the head ...... 49 3.3.10. Washing of the feet ...... 49 3.3.11. Perfectio: a spiritual sign ...... 50 4. Perception and experience: looking through the body ...... 51 4.1. Situated cognition: principles ...... 51 4.1.1. Perception ...... 53 4.2. Embodied experience ...... 54 4.2.1. Implications ...... 56 Conclusion ...... 59 Bibliography ...... 61 ILLUSTRATIONS ...... 75

Introduction

“But first the notion that man has a body distinct from his soul is to be expunged. […] If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is: infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”

William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1790

The nature and origin of our mind and its relationship with the body to which it is bounded is an issue that has been troubling humankind for thousands of years. Ranging from the ascetic approach of Plotinus, who was ashamed of having his soul grounded in a material body evincing an impure appetite, to the Manichean freewheeling acceptation of one’s corporeality, the world of Late Antiquity was not an exception in this long-standing struggle. Early Christian theologians were somehow wedged in between those two poles. The effort to free one’s soul from the sinful tendencies of the sensual body was weakened by the inherent worthiness of its corporeal aspect, permeated by the divine spirit as the whole of the Creation. Consequently, a certain compromise has been sought, issuing in the utilization of one’s bodily senses as a means of proper awakening of the spiritual capacities. This belief was mirrored in many aspects of Christian life, of which the liturgy – as a ritual practice within which the believers’ spiritual engagement was most desired – can be considered its genuine manifestation. On the following pages, we will be exploring the fifth-century Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna, a monument conceived for the performance of the ritual of baptism. As the title of this thesis suggests, we will do so through the lens of a different perspective. We will be focusing on the transformations of the Baptistery’s space in relation to the ritual staged within its walls and, at the same time, examine how its conceptors made use of the initiates’ senses while seeking to evoke a transformative spiritual experience.

According to , bishop of Milan (374–397), the mystery of baptism was supposed to be transmitted to the new members of Christian community primarily through the ritual experience itself and rationally explained only secondarily. This prevalence of experience over explanation, which, as we will see, is traceable also in other Early Christian liturgical texts, will serve as the point of departure of the present analysis. We will explore the Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna as a space to be experienced, for I believe that the specific kind of effect that was sought to be evoked – at once physical and spiritual transformation of the participants – is a formational principle determining its conception. Since the space was created with the intention to be animated by a certain ritual setting and meant to be perceived in carefully staged conditions by a specific type of beholder, the baptisand, we will

6 be examining the Baptistery and its decoration as revealed through the lens of the liturgy that was performed within its walls and, simultaneously, through its perception by the initiates. This idea is based on two assumptions. Firstly, as we will see, the ritual setting of baptism was formed by means of a synergy of numerous constitutive elements that affected all of the baptisand’s senses – the decoration being only one of them, although presumably a crucial one. Therefore, we will conceive the interior decoration not in terms of an independent intellectual exercise, but rather as a part of a powerful and coherent multisensory framework that was based on the interaction of its individual parts. Secondly, the Baptistery thus ought to be regarded as space that participated in evoking a unique transformative experience, which represented a crucial moment in the life of a Late Antique initiate. The rite’s subsequent stages – reaching from the initial apertio across the unction, immersion or washing of the feet to the concluding vestment and perfectio – were designed so as to engage the whole body of the participant. The “choreography” or “script” of the ritual counted also with a lengthy period of physically as well as mentally exhaustive preparations that preceded the baptism itself, ensuring that the initiates were approaching the Baptistery in a specifically altered state. Hence we will be approaching the perception of the space, animated by the ritual setting, as shaped by the baptisand’s full- body experience.

Our reading of the Baptistery will thus not be aimed at presenting an analysis of style or proposing a new iconographical interpretation, that is to say, at the traditional questions of art historical research. Rather, it will be an attempt to reconstruct the supposed experience of the given space and to convey the original phenomenal aspect of the monument and its decoration. However, if we try to examine the space of the Baptistery in relation with the full- body and multisensory experience of the baptisand, we are confronted with a fundamental difficulty. It seems as we are starting to walk on a thin ice, striving to look through the eyes of people whose particular worldview is so remote from our reality that it necessarily remains inaccessible for us and therefore makes their experience impossible to reconstruct. Of course, I would not dare to doubt this supposition that is fair enough obvious. Nevertheless, I would like to suggest that it is not completely unattainable to at least partly comprehend it. In accord with Robert Nelson, although basing on a different foothold, we will be departing from the idea that the perceptual systems of societies both temporarily and spatially remote from our own “do have correspondences in our world […] in the cracks and margins of ‘Cartesian perspectivalism’1 and the concomitant mechanistic understanding of human body.”2 In this attempt, maybe paradoxically, insights from contemporary cognitive

1 “Cartesian perspectivalism” is a term borrowed from Martin Jay. Cf. Jay 1993, p. 211. 2 Nelson 2000, p. 9. 7 science will be leading our way. For, as we will see, the transformation of one’s body goes hand in hand with the transformation of one’s mind; in fact, these two entities are not at all easily dissociable. Considering the mechanisms at the background of the creation of a perceptual experience as universal principles – which could thus be applied to present-day people as well as to the Late Antique initiates – I believe that the icy surface could gradually start to feel a little bit thicker under our feet.

The present analysis of the Orthodox Baptistery will be conducted on three levels. At first, we will get acquainted with its architecture and decoration. At the same time, we will have a closer look at some of its numerous former art historical interpretations, selecting mainly those accounts that were already conceiving the Baptistery in relation with its liturgical function. Secondly, we will focus on the practice of baptism in the fifth-century Ravenna. The relevant primary sources will serve us to reconstruct the course of the baptism proper as well as of the preceding period of catechumenate. Simultaneously, by drawing on diverse bases, we will approach the presumed ritual staging of the Orthodox Baptistery, reconstructing thus the original hierotopy of the given space. These two steps will help us in determining the phenomenal aspect of the space and the character of the rich sensorial stimulation that was inherent to an initiate’s experience. Finally, we will deepen our exploration of the baptisands’ perception through making use of the current knowledge about the principles of human cognition. Introducing the notion of situated cognition, we will reflect on the role of the visual decoration within the multisensory setting of the baptismal rite, and offer an alternative way to approach the question of perception within a study of liturgical spaces.

8

1. Specifying approach

Before proceeding any further, we will stop for a moment to clarify the methodological foundations of our analysis of the Orthodox Baptistery. At first, we will look into its relation to the domain of art history, and afterwards, we will define our stance within the territory of the cognitive science.

1.1. Art historical background

In spite of not dealing with the traditional topics of art history, the present study is inevitably rooted in the discipline’s fundaments. On one hand, we will be basing on studies of liturgical spaces and objects, and on the other hand, on research within the beholder-centred approaches.

1.1.1. Art and liturgy: performativity and hierotopy

Relationship between art and liturgy3 in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages has been reflected in a number of art historical studies, from which I would like to point out the most relevant ones. Major contributions have been made by Sible the Blaauw, particularly in his 1994 book Cultus et decor, introducing an exhaustive analysis of three Roman basilicas in close connection with liturgical practice in the period from the fourth to the fourteenth centuries.4 Significant studies have been recently presented by Colum Hourihane,5 Jörg Stabenow6 and also within the proceedings of two international conferences, dealing with the connection between liturgical performance, images and space from different perspectives.7 Considerable is also the work of Staale Sinding-Larsen, who, in 1984, elaborated upon the idea of the “regulating effect” of the liturgy that determines the modes of relationship between the onlooker and visual decoration of the church.8

Concerning the baptismal liturgy, a study that interprets the visual decoration in close connection to the ritual practice has recently been published by Ivan Foletti and Manuela

3 I will be using the word “liturgy” (liturgia) in the modern sense of a religious service, established in the 16th century after the Council of Trent. However, in the Latin-speaking Church during the period concerned, the terms officium or ministerium were used to indicate religious rites. Cf. the entry “Liturgy” in Bowersock/Brown/Grabar 2000, pp. 544–546. 4 De Blaauw 1994. 5 Hourihane 2003. 6 Stabenow 2006. 7 Kunst und Liturgie im Mittelalter (proceedings in Bock et al. 2000) and Art, cérémonial et liturgie (proceedings in Bock et al. 2002). 8 Sinding-Larsen 1984. In his later work, he further elaborates this idea to a conception of ritual as a “rule-system” upon which the perception of artworks can be elaborated. See Sinding-Larsen 1996. 9

Gianandrea, dealing with the narthex of the basilica of Santa Sabina in Rome as a liminal zone.9 As for baptisteries in particular, Robin M. Jensen presented a general study of visual imagery in relation to the liturgy within Late Antique baptisteries.10 Monographic studies treating the monuments and their decoration while reflecting on the baptismal liturgy have been proposed for the baptisteries of Naples and Albenga.11

In case of the Orthodox Baptistery itself, only a few scholars have so far proposed significant contributions in this sense, from which I would like to indicate especially the publications by Spiro K. Kostof, Annabel J. Wharton, Ivan Foletti and Vladimir Ivanovici. Kostof’s extensive monography The Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna, published in 1965, could be considered as a turning point within the building’s studies on many levels.12 Stating that the decoration was meant to be in direct reciprocity with the various parts of the baptismal rite, he ascribes the decoration an active participation in the ritual. Reflecting the subsequent stages of baptism, he proposes new iconological interpretations about several individual represented scenes. Accordingly, he stresses the interconnectedness of the single elements of the visual decoration within the whole decorative program, which was creating an “atmospheric setting for the word and for the ritual”, thus emphasizing the synergy of decoration, ritual and the spoken word that “had to work in unison to enhance the dignity and elucidate the deep significance of the sacrament.”13 The first truly comprehensive reflection of the liturgical function of the building in relation to its decoration was presented by Wharton in her 1987 article “Ritual and Reconstructed Meaning.”14 Basing primarily on the writings of Ambrose of Milan, she reconstructs the individual stages of local baptismal rite and connects them directly with the decoration of the Orthodox Baptistery. At the same time, Wharton (re)opens a few significant issues that have not been properly treated in earlier studies. Firstly, she questions the assumption that the initiates underwent the baptism naked.15 Secondly, she takes into account a broader social aspect of baptismal ritual and subsequently implies that the organization of the decorative program was strongly linked with the expression of the episcopal power, which counted not only with the initiates themselves, but also with the presence of broader non-clerical audience.16 All of those assumptions are later developed in a more profound way in Wharton’s 1995 monography Refiguring the Post Classical City.17 This time, more attention is given to the interior decoration and the initiation rite as affirming

9 Foletti/Gianandrea 2015. 10 Jensen 2012. 11 For San Giovanni in Fonte in Naples, see Gandolfi 2002. For the Albenga baptistery, see Marcenaro 2014. 12 Kostof 1965. 13 Kostof 1965, p. 81. 14 Wharton 1987. 15 Wharton 1987, pp. 362–363. See also chapter 3.3.1. herein. 16 Wharton 1987, pp. 365–369, 372. 17 Wharton 1995; pp. 113–136. 10 bishop’s constitutive role within the Christian community, while the ritual is seen not only in terms of individual’s spiritual conversion, but also as an event transforming the urban topography. Foletti’s 2009 article “ Ambroise et le Baptistère des Orthodoxes de Ravenne. Autour du Lavement des pieds dans la liturgie baptismale” is based on one specific stage of the baptismal rite: the washing of the feet.18 According to the scholar, it was precisely this part of the process that confirms the relation of the baptismal liturgy of Ravenna with that of Milan and excluded, for this precise moment of the liturgical year, its affiliation to the Roman one. This compelling analysis thus permits us to reconstruct the course of the baptismal ritual in the Orthodox Baptistery according to the catecheses of Ambrose of Milan.19 Foletti’s interpretation of the decorative program is thoroughly baptisand-centred and switches thus the attention back to the initiates, exploring the meaning that the space acquired for them. In both Ivanovici’s major accounts on the Orthodox Baptistery – the 2014 article “‘Luce renobatus’: Speculations on the Placement and Importance of Lights in Ravenna’s Neonian Baptistery” and the 2016 book Manipulating Theophany: Light in North-Adriatic Architecture and Ritual – light plays a major role. Whereas the article concerns primarily with the reconstruction of the Baptistery’s original lighting system,20 in the recent monography, published only a few months ago, Ivanovici explores the use and perception of light within the baptismal ritual in a more profound way.21 Linking the choice of Baptistery’s visual program with the iconography of the former pagan cults, as well as with the homilies of the Ravenna’s fifth-century bishop , he presents the liturgy of baptism as a theophanic ritual, emphasizing thus the foremost importance of the orchestration of light within the ritual setting. At the same time, applying the concept of iconicity, Ivanovici reflects on the effect of the rite within the construction of one’s personal and social identity.

1.1.2. Beholder-centred approaches: visuality and the senses

After briefly exploring the link between art and liturgy in art historical studies in general, and those of the Orthodox Baptistery in particular, we will now have a closer look into a branch of art historical studies that is concerned with perception of images, objects and spaces created by the past cultures. Attempts to understand the perception and reception of artworks have been embedded in art history throughout its diverse methodologies, while being manifested particularly in the so-called psychological approaches.22 Considerable efforts have been

18 Foletti 2009. 19 Similar point has been already noted by Garucci 1877, pp. 38–39 and Wharton 1987 and 1995, however, none of those scholars elaborated any further upon this rather implicit assumption. 20 Ivanovici 2014. See also pp. 41–42 herein. 21 Ivanovici 2016. 22 Its most prominent proponent being Ernst H. Gombrich; see e.g. Gombrich 1960. Cf. Kroupa 2010, pp. 249–252, 284–290 for an overview of these approaches. 11 made towards exploring the relation between an image and its perceiver, striving at avoiding the evaluation of past objects through the perspective of the present-day viewer, which culminated in Baxandall’s concept of the “period eye”.23 Preoccupation with sight and its cultural and social determination has been particularly evident in art historical scholarship during the 1990s, which, following the rise of visual studies, engaged in the so- called pictorial or visual turn.24 Baxandall’s period eye got thus gradually transformed into the notion of visuality, relating to both temporally and spatially remote cultures.25 Understanding the creation and perception of Late Antique and medieval art has been repeatedly shaped by the attempts to define and describe a specific mode of visuality, often based upon the contemporary theories of vision.26 The apparent ocularcentrism traditionally accompanying art historical discourse is, regarding the inherently visual character of the artworks studied, undoubtedly well justified.27 However, when dealing with liturgical spaces and objects, the situation gets much more complex.

Late Antique and medieval liturgy was essentially performative, that is, it presumed a peripatetic enactment and was based on the interaction of numerous elements, comprising the images, but also the architectural space, spoken word, chants or the diffusion of incense. In this way, the visual enters into relation with other sensorial stimuli, and speaking only of visuality in this context appears to be a considerable reductionist approach. This has been acknowledged by a number of scholars, who, when dealing with medieval liturgical art, have been in one way or another taking into account the broader sensorium which the given space engages. One of the pioneering attempts in this sense has been the work of Pavel Florensky, who, in 1922, formulated an insightful and riveting view of liturgical art as being a part of complex synesthetic experience.28 Seminal for dealing with the sacred space as complex multimediatic setting is the concept of hierotopy, introduced by Alexei Lidov.29 Hierotopy is described as a special kind of creativity that leads to the formation of a sacred

23 Baxandall introduced the concept of “period eye” in his 1972 publication Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy. Under the notion of a specific “cognitive style” of the fifteenth-century beholder, Baxandall explores his particular “visual skills”, proper to the given cultural and social milieu. See Baxandall 1972, esp. pp. 29f. 24 See Kesner 2005. Cf. also the notion of Bildwissenschaft linked to anthropology, proper to German scholarship. See esp. Belting 2001. 25 The concept of visuality has been promoted especially by Hal Foster. It is a term that refers to the mode of seeing as a socially constructed fact, opposing “vision” as a universally applicable physical operation. Cf. Foster 1988. 26 For recent application of the concept of visuality in the context of medievalist studies, see esp. the comprehensive anthology Vision and Visuality before and beyond Renaissance (Nelson 2000). See also Biernoff 2002; Kessler 2004; Jensen 2013 and the numerous writings of Jaś Elsner (esp. Elsner 2007). 27 For the critique of ocularcentrism and its embeddedness in (not only) French scholarship, see the seminal work of Martin Jay (Jay 1993). 28 See esp. Florensky’s 1922 article “The Church Ritual as a Synthesis of the Arts”. For English translation, see Florensky 2002. 29 Lidov 2006. 12 space, defined as the ensemble of architecture, decoration, liturgical furnishings, vestments and vessels, including also lighting effects, fragrance, ritual gestures and spoken word.30 Simultaneously, Lidov emphasizes the fact that “material forms were just a part, and not always the most important one, of a spatial whole which was in permanent movement” as “[p]erformativity, dramatic changes, the lack of strict fixation shaped a vivid, spiritually intensive, and concretely influential environment.”31

In recent years, the research on the culture of the Middle Ages have witnessed a rise of interest in the senses other than sight, which this time resulted to a so-called sensual turn in medieval studies. A large number of publications dealing with the theological implications and utilization of the activation of the senses in Late Antique and medieval West as well as in Byzantium represent a compelling testimony of this tendency.32 From the abundance of these accounts, I would like to point out the work of Liz James, studying primarily Byzantine mosaics,33 and Éric Palazzo, who is dealing with liturgy-related objects in the medieval West.34 Comprehensive inclusion of the phenomenal aspect of the beholder’s perception within the research of liturgical spaces and objects has been so far performed only marginally. Significant are the studies of Bissera V. Pentcheva, introducing the concept of “sensual icon” and experimenting with the original lighting, music and acoustics within Byzantine monuments and objects in situ, thus exploring their transforming perception depending on changing conditions of light and sound.35

1.2. Perception and cognition

Within the following study of baptismal experience, while drawing on the aforementioned concepts and ideas, I would like to move a step further and approach the beholder’s perspective even a little bit closer, this time basing upon a different foothold. My point of departure in this attempt are the contemporary studies of human mind, falling within the domain of cognitive science. Drawing attention back to mechanisms that affect the content of our perceptual experience, I would like to question the generally accepted view of insurmountability of the cultural and social embeddedness of perception. Taking these principles as universal, instead of insisting on “deprogramming” of the modern viewer

30 At the same time, Lidov uses the term hierotopy also for designating the research field that analyses the products of this creativity. 31 Lidov 2006, p. 39. 32 For the most significant recent collective studies, see e.g. Palazzo 2016; Kern-Stähler/Busse/de Boer 2016; Newhauser 2014. For studies focusing on the activation of individual senses other than sight, see e.g. Ashbrook Harvey 2006; Roch 2009. 33 See esp. James 2004. 34 See esp. Palazzo 2014. 35 See esp. Pentcheva 2009; 2010; 2011; 2016. 13 while attempting to interpret the art of periods long gone,36 I will suggest sticking with principles common to all of us as humans. I believe that the relatively recently established paradigm of cognitive science, which encloses a number of concepts under the notion of situated cognition,37 is of great relevance within this issue, and could us help to bridge the enormous gap between the third- and first-person perspectives.

Covering of the insights of the so-called “hard” sciences tends to be problematic within humanities in general, as an obvious result of the still persisting gap caused by the inherent differences of the methodologies and tools used by those two fractions. However, due to the transdisciplinary character of cognitive science, which is formed by numerous fields comprising, apart from neuroscience or artificial intelligence, also “soft” sciences as psychology, philosophy, anthropology or linguistics, its theoretical background and results are therefore more apt to be applied within humanities.38 The principles of human cognition have been in recent years taken into consideration within the study of ritual and religious experience in the domain of archaeology and religious studies.39 The discipline of art history has been considerably more restrained, although several such attempts have been performed, their most notable proponents being Freedberg, Ladislav Kesner, John Onians or Rosenberg.40 Looking from the other side of the field, we can nowadays come across the emerging field of neuroaesthetics, which, following the current boom of neuro-sciences, aims at exploring human reaction to works of art by means of experimental research.41 Although pursuing a fascinating path, the domain has been struggling with serious drawbacks, which have often impeded application of its research results within humanities.42 In contrast to neuroaesthetics, what I would like to propose is an incorporation of the paradigm of situated cognition to the art historical study on a theoretical level, which is, in my opinion, the first and necessary take-off move in making the transdisciplinary leap. Keeping in mind possible future experimental implications, I would like to, at first, make use of the concept as a theoretical tool.

36 Ousterhout 1998, p. 81 37 See chapter 4.1. herein. 38 For the discussion, see e.g. Stafford 2011. 39 For archaeology, see e.g. Renfrew/Zubrow 1994; for religious studies, see e.g. McNamara 2009. 40 See e.g. Freedberg 2011; Kesner/Schmitz 2011; Onians 2007; Rosenberg 2016. 41 See e.g. Zeki 1999; Chatterjee 2014. 42 This is due, on one hand, to the necessity of performing a part of the experimental research in laboratory conditions, and, on the other hand, to the lacking extensive cooperation with the humanist scholars. For the discussion, see e.g. Kesner 2010; Rampley 2012. 14

2. Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna: meeting the object

Now the time comes to look closer on the object of our interest – the Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna [Fig. 1].43 Owing to its state of preservation and to the incredible quality of its interior decoration, it is one of the most studied monuments of Late Antiquity. Attempts to describe and interpret its space and interior decoration date as far as to the seventeenth century and are still being extensively published.44 We will first go through a description of its architecture and decoration, which will be continuously complemented by an overview of some of its previous interpretations. Bearing in mind the purpose of the present study, that is to focus on the Baptistery’s perception within the ritual setting, I will permit myself to present this synopsis in a considerably reduced form, focusing mainly on such interpretations that take into account the liturgical function of the building. In the very end, we will briefly explore the manner in which the former accounts treated the question of perception, reflecting thus the on phenomenal character of the Baptistery’s interior space.

2.1. Architecture

The Orthodox Baptistery was built in the beginning of the fifth century,45 during the episcopate of bishop Ursus (c. 405–431),46 located north of the newly established five-aisled basilica.47 Its octagonal body is expanded on the ground level by four semi-circular niches

43 Known also as Neonian Baptistery, or, especially in the Italian and German scholarship, by older names San Giovanni in Fonte or the Baptistery of the Cathedral; rarely also as Ursian Baptistery. The designation “Orthodox” distinguishes it from the Ravenna’s Arian Baptistery, built between 493 and 526, during the reign of Ostrogothic king Theoderic. For a general overview of Arian Baptistery, see e.g. Deichmann 1974, pp. 251–255; Deliyannis 2010, pp. 177–188. 44 The main studies of the Orthodox Baptistery are the following: Ciampini 1690; Lanciani 1871; Garrucci 1877; Richter 1878, pp. 9–22; Ricci 1889; Barbier de Montault 1896; Sangiorgi 1900; Nicco Fasola 1925, pp. 245–249; Galassi 1930, pp. 34–43; Bettini 1950; Nordström 1953, pp. 32–54; Wessel 1957; Casalone 1959; Bottari 1960; Mazzotti 1961; Ghezzo 1962; Kostof 1965; Kaspersen 1966; Deichmann 1974, pp. 17–47; Bovini 1974; Lopreato 1977; Quacquarelli 1979; Iannucci 1985; Wharton 1987; Wharton 1995, pp. 108–130; Rizzardi 1997; Iannucci 1998; Agostinelli 1999; Rizzardi 2001; Maiuri 2002; Pasquini 2005; Foletti 2009; Deliyannis 2010, pp. 88–105; Fabbi 2011; Muscolino/Ranaldi/Tedeschi 2011; Longhi 2012, pp. 65–74; Brandt 2012, pp. 191–241; Sarasini 2012; Antonellini 2012; Sturaro 2013; Schweinfurth 2013; Ivanovici 2014; Ivanovici 2016. 45 For building phases of the Baptistery, see esp. Kostof 1965, pp. 36–46; Deichmann 1974, pp. 17–18; Deliyannis 2010, pp. 88–92; Brandt 2012, pp. 232–237. 46 I follow the dating of episcopates of Ravenna’s bishops presented by Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis in her comprehensive recent monography. See Deliyannis 2010, p. 304. 47 The original basilica was destroyed and rebuilt in the 18th century. For the paleochristian basilica Ursiana, see e.g. Novara 1997. 15 into a plan of a square with rounded corners [Fig. 2].48 The choice of the octagonal plan has been explained in the context of the buildings function. Number eight is seen in direct reference to baptism, corresponding to the Resurrection of Christ that took place on the eighth day, and thus representing the death and rebirth of both Christ and the neophyte.49 Moreover, the similarity with Roman mausolea also alluded to the symbolic of death of the catechumen and further rebirth as a true Christian.50 Those assumptions are explicitly documented by a poem from Milan’s Baptistery, attributed to Saint Ambrose and preserved in a ninth-century codex:

“The eight-sided temple has risen for sacred purposes, the eight-sided font is worthy for this task. It is seemly that the baptismal hall should arise in this number by which true health has returned to people. By the light of the resurrected Christ, who loosens the bonds of death and revives the lifeless from the tombs.”51

The exterior of the structure, built of reused Roman bricks,52 is rather austere. Each side of the octagon is segmented only by a blind frieze of two double-arched panels in the upper level and a large arched window beneath.53 A recent discussion of the unusually large dimensions of the Baptistery’s windows brought a hypothesis of the Baptistery’s diurnal use (liturgical or not) by the fifth century.54 This assumption has been doubted by Ivanovici, who insists on its nocturnal use for the liturgy of baptism. Ivanovici further suggests that the windows were constructed to reflect the light from lamps hanging in front of them, thus at the same time diffusing light in the interior and emitting light outside, producing an effect of gleaming windows, testifying the divine presence inside of the Baptistery and attracting those who were outside to the sacrament of baptism.55

48 The absidioles, however, do not have structural purpose and could have therefore been added later. Cf. Kostof 1965, p. 47; Russo 2005, p. 98. For the discussion of original ground plan, see Vernia 2009, pp. 44–48; Brandt 2012, pp. 228–229. 49 E.g. Kostof 1965, pp. 50–54; Deliyannis 2010, pp. 88–89. The claim that the octagonal plan of the building conveys a specific meaning was challenged by Deichmann 1974, pp. 25–26. 50 Krautheimer 1942. 51 “Octachorum s[an]c[t]os templum surrexit in usus / octagonus fons est numere dignus eo / hoc numero decuit sacri baptismalis aulam / surgere quo populus vera salus rediit / Luce resurgentis Xr[ist]i, qui claustra resovit / mortis et tumulis suscitat examnines.” After Jensen 2011, p. 197, n. 20. 52 However, the original 5th-century brickwork is no more visible on the exterior. Today, we can see a mixture of bricks from different dates (Kostof 1965, p. 32). The lower part of the building’s exterior was completely reconstructed during the 19th- and 20th-century restorations. See Brandt 2012, pp. 193, 223–224. 53 For detailed analysis of the walls, see Vernia 2009, pp. 44–73; Brandt 2012, 210–220. 54 Brandt 2012, p. 459. 55 Ivanovici 2016, p. 94–96. The importance of the baptismal ritual within the urban topography has been already noted by Wharton 1995, p. 127. 16

On the southeast and west sides of the Baptistery, also two smaller windows, incorporated into the blind frieze, are visible [Fig. 1]. On the northwest side, we can see a marble relief showing a horseman incorporated into the wall [Fig. 3], which is believed to be a remnant of a sarcophagus from the second quarter of the third century that has been inserted into the structure during its construction.56 The building is covered by a tile roof with a simple cross on the top, which replaced an earlier, seventh-century bronze cross in 1963.57 Formerly having been penetrated either by four doorways on east, west, south and north sides or by two on west and north,58 the only today’s entrance to the Baptistery is enabled through the western door, which is bounded by a sixteenth-century stone frame. It is important to note that due to the centuries-long gradual sinking of the Ravenna’s bedrock,59 originally, the building’s ground level was found approximately three metres below the present state [Fig. 4].60 Regarding the original architectural form of the monument, two further issues have been previously discussed: the possible original existence of a portico, connecting the Baptistery with the basilica Ursiana,61 and an external ambulatory, similar to one of the Ravenna’s Arian Baptistery.62

2.2. Interior

The present state of the interior of the Orthodox Baptistery, with its sumptuous decoration, is believed to be, for a great part, the result of remodelling of the Ursian building by Bishop Neon (c. 450–473).63 This supposition derives from the evidence given by ninth-century chronicler Agnellus in his Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis:64

56 Vernia 2009, p. 44; Brandt 2012, p. 214, n. 379. Cf. also Kostof 1965, pp. 142–143. 57 Kostof 1965, p. 7. 58 The number of original entrances is based on the findings of Lanciani. Foletti 2009, Muscolino 2011 or Ivanovici 2016 state that Lanciani talks about four doorways, however some scholars (e.g. Kostof 1965, Deichmann 1974, Brandt 2012, Deliyannis 2010) have assumed the existence of only two doorways, surprisingly basing on the same documents. Unfortunately, I have personally not managed to get access to the original Lanciani’s documentation and we thus have to leave, for the time being, leave both of those possibilities open. 59 For the issue of sinking of Ravenna’s ground, see Deliyannis 2010, p. 13, n. 36. 60 The elevation of the floor has been done repeatedly; the present state was attained in the beginning of the 1880s within a project led by Filippo Lanciani. For its discussion as well as other interventions made by Lanciani at the Baptistery, see Kostof 1965, pp. 9–18; Maiuri 2002. 61 The existence of a portico, linking the Baptistery with the north door of basilica, is proved from the 14th century on, however, it is possible that it stood there earlier. See Sangiorgi 1900, pp. 135–139; Ghezzo 1962, p. 17, n. 20. Cf. also Kostof 1965, pp. 37–39 and Brandt 2012, p. 229. 62 Hypothesis of an existence of the external ambulatory has been suggested by Sangiorgi 1900, p. 139, basing on the excavations of Lanciani. See also Gerola 1930, tav. 3; Casalone 1959, p. 204. Contrary to the portico, the existence of an ambulatory has been evaluated as improbable. Cf. Kostof 1965, p. 39; Brandt 2012, p. 229. 63 The ascription of the interior decoration to bishop Neon has been generally accepted by the scholars. Some have, however, doubted the contemporaneity of the decoration of the lower level of the 17

“He decorated the baptisteries of the Ursiana church most beautifully: he set up in mosaic and gold tesserae the images of the apostles and their names in the vault, he girded the side-walls with different types of stones. His name is written in stone letters:

Yield, old name, yield, age, to newness! Behold the glory of the renewed font shines more beautifully. For Neon, highest priest, has generously adorned it, arranging all things in beautiful refinement.”65

Under Neon, the former ceiling was replaced by an extremely light tubi fittili dome (only 25 cm thick, 9,6 m in diameter), supported by two superimposed arcades [Fig. 5],66 with its peak rising c. 14,6 m above the original floor level.67 Eight holes are pierced through the lower section of cupola, directly over the windows. Claimed to be a part of the original design, they are generally conceived as providing support for lighting system, either individual lamps or, as was recently proposed, for a central chandelier.68 The octagonal font that could be seen in the interior today is of later medieval origin [Fig. 5],69 whereas the original one was, according to the excavations of Lanciani, circular (c. 3,1 m in diameter) and sunken into the ground, probably coated with marble and accessible by two opposing rows of steps.70

2.3. Decoration

The Baptistery’s interior is richly decorated by mosaics, stucco, paint and opus sectile, a considerable part of which – as we can see also from the testimony of Agnellus – dates back to the fifth century. Not much is known about the original pavement as well as of the revetment of the lowest walls, now completely lost under the ground level. According to the

Baptistery’s interior and suggested its ascription already to the episcopate of Ursus (cf. Bettini 1950). Those theories have been refuted e.g. by Kostof 1965, pp. 100–103 and Pasquini 2005, pp. 340–343. 64 For recent commented English edition by Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis, see The Book of Pontifs 2003. 65 The Book of Pontifs 2003, p. 125. 66 Whether the two superimposed interior arcades were part of its original form or the second one was added later by Neon is disputable. For most recent discussion, see Brandt 2012, p. 235. 67 The original Ursian Baptistery had a wooden roof approximately 11 metres above the floor (Kostof 1965, pp. 39–40; Deichmann 1974, p. 18). Cf. also Kostof 1965, pp. 40–42; Mazzotti 1961, Deichmann 1974, pp. 21–22; Pasquini 2005, pp. 328–329. 68 De Angelis d’Ossat (1941) first related the holes to individual hanging lights; this supposition was accepted by Tedeschi (2011). However, more probable seems the proposition of Ivanovici, who suggests that the ropes attached to holes in cupola supported one central chandelier. Cf. Ivanovici 2014, pp. 22–25. See also pp. 41–42 herein. 69 Kostof 1965, p. 140. 70 Casalone 1959, p. 243; Kostof 1965, p. 140; Deichmann 1974, p. 25; Brandt 2012, p. 230. For the problematic of baptismal fonts and hydraulic systems of paleochristian baptisteries, see Falla Castelfranchi 2008. 18 excavations of Lanciani, and subsequent reconstructions made in the nineteenth century, they could have been completely coated in light coloured marble [Fig. 6].71 The arches of the lower arcade are filled with opus sectile decoration, which has probably been also a part of the original design.72 It is composed from different kinds of stones arranged in geometrical patterns, ranging from red porphyry and lapis lacedaemoniae (Spartan basalt) to green and African pink marbles [Fig. 9]. Decoration of the absidioles has completely perished as well. Its reconstruction was suggested only on theoretical level, following the inscriptions above them.73 All of these texts, rendered in gold on dark blue background, are quoting or paraphrasing biblical verses:74

Southwest niche: “Jesus walking on the sea takes the hand of the sinking Peter, and with the lord commanding the wind ceased.”75 (Matthew 14, 29–32; paraphrase)

Southeast niche: “Blessed are those whose inequities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord has not imputed sin.”76 (Psalm 32, 1–2)

Northeast niche: “Where Jesus laid aside his clothing and put water in a basin and washed the feet of his disciples.”77 (John 13, 4–5; paraphrase)

Northwest niche: “He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me by still waters.”78 (Psalm 23, 2) [Fig. 10]

Of a special importance is the quotation in northeast niche, speaking about Christ washing the feet of the Apostles that serves, to a great part, as a justification of linking Ravenna’s

71 Russo 2011, pp. 112, 121 and fig. 6; Ivanovici 2016, p. 59, fig. 7. 72 The opus sectile visible today comes from the reconstruction at the turn of the 20th century. Sangiorgi 1900, pp. 23–30, defends the authenticity of the reconstruction with regard to the original design. However, according to Pasquini 2005, p. 329, the initial design must have been different from the present one. Anyhow, the existence of marble decoration in the 5th-century Baptistery has been agreed upon basing on the writing of Agnellus (“[…] he girded the side-walls with different types of stones”). Cf. p. 18 herein. 73 Their original decoration have been accepted and their motifs suggested by Barbier de Montault 1896, p. 75; Sangiorgi 1900, pp. 33–36 ; Bisconti 2001, p. 430; Foletti 2009, p. 124. There is, however, no evidence that the absidioles were originally decorated, let alone of their motifs. Their relation to the inscriptions have been doubted by Kostof 1965, p. 61, and refuted by Deichmann 1974, p. 28. 74 The inscriptions have been heavily reconstructed in the 19th century. For their discussion, see esp. Kostof 1965, pp. 58–62; Bovini 1974; Quacquarelli 1979; Foletti 2009. 75 IHS AMBULAS SUPER MARE PETRO MERGENTI MANUM CAPIT ET IUBENTE DOMNO VENTUS CESSAVIT, trans. after Deliyannis 2010, p. 95. 76 BEATI QUORUM REMISSAE SUNT INIQUITATES / ET QUORUM TECTA PECCATA / BEATUS VIR CUI NON IMPUTAVIT DOMINUS PECCATUM, trans. after Deliyannis 2010, p. 95. 77 UBI DEPOSUIT IHS VESTIMENTA SUA ET MISIT AQUAM IN PELVEM ET LABIT PEDES DISCIPULORUM SUORUM, trans. after Deliyannis 2010, p. 95. 78 IN LOCUM PASCUAE IBI ME CONLOCAVIT / SUPER AQUA REFECTIONIS EDOCAVIT ME, trans. after Deliyannis 2010, p. 95. 19 liturgy with Milanese Ambrosian rite (whereas in Rome, the washing of the feet has not formed part of baptismal liturgy).79

The space above the lower arcade is covered by mosaic decoration, with overall pattern of golden rinceaux formed of acanthus leaves, emerging from dark blue background and featuring eight standing male figures over the eight columns. Those are posed against golden oval medallions with flame-like edges, dressed in white tunics and pallia and holding scrolls or books in their hands [Fig. 11]. Lack of traits that would provide their precise identification have led the majority of scholars to interpret them as further unspecified prophets.80

The upper arcade is formed by a complex architectural framework, consisting of eight times three arches (the two side ones smaller in size and the larger one embracing a window), crowned by one unifying arch above [Fig. 14]. This structure is believed to be derived from the architecture of Roman scaenae frons.81 Inside the lateral arches are inserted stucco aediculae with either semicircular or triangular pediments, filled with shells, alternately oriented upwards or downwards. Within the aediculae, sixteen reliefs of standing male figures are posed (one on each side of the windows). Similarly to the figures of the lower level, also these men are dressed in tunics and pallia and are holding either scrolls or books in their hands. Albeit likewise lacking any further identification, they have been almost unequivocally identified as prophets.82 Originally, the figures might have been gilded, as Agnellus is repeatedly attesting the presence of gipsea metalla in other more or less contemporary monuments of Ravenna.83 However, what troubled most of the earlier scholars is their apparently cruder and not so elaborate rendering in comparison with the mosaic decoration. Those distortions include, apart from unnatural body postures, the unproportional scale of some of their facial (eyes, ears and nostrils) and body traits (hands and feet) [Fig. 12]. These “uninhibited execution and naiveté of spirit”84 have been explained either in terms of different expressive power of the medium, their execution by insufficiently skilled local craftsmen, or their initial polychrome and gilding that would have partially adjusted them.85 The change in style led some of the earlier accounts also to the question of their contemporaneity with the rest of the Neonian renovations.86

79 Cf. Kostof 1965, pp. 60–61; Wharton 1987, p. 365; Foletti 2009, sp. pp. 124–127. 80 Rarely, they have been also identified with Apostles. For the discussion, see Kostof 1965, p. 62. 81 For the discussion of genesis and meaning of the architectural framework in relation to scaenae frons, see esp. Kostof 1965, pp. 72–76; Lopreato 1976. 82 The number of sixteen figures suggests that they represent four Major and twelve Minor Prophets. Prophets of lower level could thus be complementary, giving the total of twenty-four, which was claimed to be a full number of Old Testaments prophets by early counts. Cf. Kostof 1965, p. 65, n. 34. 83 This has been already noticed by Kostof 1965, p. 95. Cf. Also The Book of Pontifs 2003, p. 325. 84 Kostof 1965, p. 95. 85 Kostof 1965, pp. 94–97. 86 Casalone 1959, pp. 246–253, suggested their addition by Maximian in the 6th century; moreover, she divided the prophets according to the “quality” of their rendering into four stylistic categories. Cf. 20

The tympana of the upmost arches are decorated with painted vegetable and animal motifs. Between those and the pediments of the aediculae are embedded other stucco reliefs, much smaller in scale, representing either pairs of animals, or, in four cases, figural scenes. Whereas the animals, flanking central elements such as vases or baskets, have been mostly interpreted as only decorative motifs,87 the four figurative scenes – designated as Christ Trampling the Beasts [Fig. 13], Traditio legis, and the Whale and in the Lion Den – have been identified in direct relation to the baptismal liturgy and its preceding catechetic instruction.88 Kostof clarifies the meaning of the first two mentioned as dogmatic representations. He links them with the process of the renunciation of the Devil: the initiates were instructed to face west while rejecting the Satan, which posed them in the direction of the representation of victorious Christ. The scene of Traditio legis is then interpreted as complementary to this one, affirming the power of the Church, emphasizing thus the exclusivity of the community into which neophytes enter by baptism.89 Foletti, however, offers a different explanation of those two images, while pointing out that the scene of Christ Trampling the Beasts is not inserted directly into the western axis of the Baptistery. Instead of with the apotaxis, he explains it in the context of feet washing, which was perceived as a sort of exorcism in itself.90 The latter scene is then linked with the process of traditio symbolii, which was a part of the pre-baptismal instruction of catechumens.91

The decoration of the cupola is formed by three concentric circles: the lowest band, featuring alternating thrones and altars, the middle zone with a procession of the Apostles bearing crowns, and a central medallion with an image of the Baptism of Christ [Fig. 15]. Approximately one third of the mosaics were reconstructed during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, with the upper part of the central medallion being the restoration’s most distinct (and unfortunate) result [Fig. 16].92 According to Kostof, the upper two zones of the cupola (i.e. the Apostles and central medallion) represent celestial realm, where the heavenly prototype of baptism takes place, accompanied by the procession of the Apostles. The lower parts of the decoration (two

Kostof 1965, pp. 94–100, who provides an overview of the earlier accounts and subsequently refutes the assumption of earlier or later dating of the stucco decoration. 87 Sangiorgi 1900, pp. 54–57. Kostof speculates also about their symbolical meaning in relation to baptism (emphasizing peacock and hare, animals that are traditionally linked to baptism), but closes this polemic by saying that “it would be more accurate, from the viewpoint of the neophyte who would enter the Baptistery only once in his life, to see in this part of the decorative scheme a general atmosphere of associations more than any illustration of precise elements of Christian ideology.” Kostof 1965, p. 65. 88 E.g. Casalone 1959; Kostof 1965; Wharton 1987. 89 Kostof, pp. 67–71. This idea was accepted e.g. by Wharton 1987, p. 362 and Schweinfurth 2013, p. 70. 90 Foletti 2009, pp. 140–141. 91 Foletti 2009, pp. 134–135. 92 This particular part of the mosaic, as a number of others, was restored by Felice Kibel in the 1850s (and probably also earlier). Cf. Kostof 1965, p. 86; Deliyannis 2010, p. 98. For the overall history of restorations of the cupola’s mosaic decoration, see Sarasini 2010. 21 arcades) function in turn as a theatrical backdrop for the ritual, where the mystery is enacted, relating to the terrestrial here-and-now where baptism is performed, still being linked to the outer world by means of windows in the upper arcade. The row with thrones and altars then forms a passage between the terrestrial and celestial zones, by means of a rhythmical alternation of two types of representations, each of which belongs to one of those worlds.93 Important trait in this explanation is the idea of movement: according to Kostof, the perceived movement of the figures gradually increases from the lower levels upwards, where it culminates in the march of the Apostles – only in order to be paralyzed again in the central medallion, where the idea of permanence is communicated by means of the stable rendering of Christ, with his gaze fixed upon the beholder below.94

Let us now have a closer look of the cupola’s zones one by one. The lowest decorated band is composed of eight panels of architectural framework (dividing the panels into one central and two side parts),95 filled alternatively with two types of representations. The first type is showing simple-structured altars in the middle, standing on four colonettes and posed against dark green background, each exposing an open book that could be identified, according to their inscriptions, with Gospels.96 Those are flanked by small thrones with golden bejewelled crowns on their seats, set in niches covered by baldachins [Figs 14, 15]. The second type is showing sumptuous empty thrones in the central compartment, covered in coloured textiles and decorated by gems, surmounted by white crosses in golden aureoles, alternatively on dark blue or green background. Its side bays are filled with low ornamented parapets behind which vegetation is represented against dark blue background [Figs 14, 15]. Interpretation of the significance of this row is the most controversial, and has yet been given a considerable number of different explanations. In general terms, it has been interpreted as a reference to the Church, oscillating between its attributions to terrestrial or heavenly sphere.97 An insightful reflection of the liturgical rite has been proposed by Søren Kaspersen, who conceives the three parts of the cupola in a close unity, while claiming that the overall decoration is oriented according to two main axes. He then focuses on the explanation of the thrones/altars zone, the architectural framing of which he compares to a church bema. Kaspersen further explains the representation of altars in light of the pre-baptismal

93 Kostof 1965, p. 82. 94 Kostof 1965, pp. 110–112. 95 The architectural framework has been often compared to the mosaic decoration of the cupola of the church of Saint George in Thessaloniki. See e.g. Bettini 1950, p. 47; Cechelli 1954, pp. 269–272; Casalone 1959, p. 234; Kostof 1965, pp. 78–79; Longhi 2012, p. 69. 96 The inscriptions state, respectively: EVANGELIUM SECUN IOANNE/MATTHEUN/LUCAN/MARCUN. Cf. Kostof 1965, p. 77–78. 97 For an overview of the discussion, see Kostof 1965, pp. 79–82; Deichmann 1974, pp. 41–43; Wharton 1987, pp. 368–375; Wharton 1995, pp. 126–127; Pasquini 2005, p. 333. 22 instruction, as reminding the initiate of the procedure of explications of Gospel episodes during the catechumenate.98 Foletti develops this idea of linking the decoration with the pre-baptismal instruction even further, suggesting a new, initiate-centred explanation of the empty thrones. He draws on the liturgical process of feet washing, when the newly baptized was supposed to be seated on an empty throne in one of the apses.99 Through this act, following the archetype of ancient thronosis,100 the baptisand was symbolically united with the divine, and the representation of empty thrones would thus refer at once to the unimaginable God, the bishop, whose throne was to be found below, and the initiate him- or herself, occupying this very throne in the moment when his or her feet were being washed.101

The upper band of the cupola is divided into twelve fields by golden “plant-candelabra”102, with each of them filled with a figure of apostle,103 dressed in dalmatica with clavi and pallium (alternately golden or white) and bearing gemmed golden crowns in their hands [Fig. 17]. The background of this scene is dark blue, turning into green towards the bottom, forming thus a grassy ground for the Apostles’ feet. The figures are represented as marching in two rows led by Saint Paul and , respectively, leaving from a point above the upper part of the medallion and meeting directly beneath the feet of Christ represented within, the two zones thus being oriented according to the same central axis [Fig. 15]. The edge of the medallion is decorated by a symmetrically waved bright drapery that alludes to nimbuses of the Apostles, whose heads are posed directly against its folds. Faces of the Apostles are expressing strong individualized treats, with alternating colours of their hair and eyes as well as skin tones, and also with changing direction of their gaze.104 As long as the row of the Apostles bearing crowns has no direct addressee, contrary to a similar representation in the nearby Arian Baptistery featuring an empty throne in the middle, between Peter and Paul [Fig. 18], the most perturbing question has been to whom are the crowns intended.105 Basing on different backgrounds, earlier accounts have been attempting to explain this feature as the Apostles’ offering to Christ.106 The relation of the decoration to the performance of the

98 Kaspersen 1966. 99 Foletti 2009, p. 140. That the episcopal throne was posed in the Baptistery’s eastern niche was proposed also by Wharton 1987, p. 364. 100 Thronosis, or enthronement, was a common part of ancient initiation rites; cf. Foletti 2009, p. 143, n. 119. 101 Foletti 2009, pp. 142–143. 102 Kostof 1965, p. 83. 103 The identification here is precise due to the inscriptions present, showing their names: PETRUS, ANDREAS, IACOBUS ZEBEDEI, IOHANNES, FILIPUS, BARTOLOMEUS, IUDAS ZELOTES, SIMON CANANEUS, IACOVUS ALFEI, MATTHEUS, THOMAS, PAULUS. Cf. Kostof 1965, p. 83. 104 For the discussion of the direction of the Apostles’ gaze, see Wharton 1995, p. 116. 105 See Kostof 1965, pp. 89–93; Rizzardi 2001, pp. 922–926. 106 Ranging, for example, from Soper’s explanation of unskilfulness of the artist (Soper 1938, p. 157), through Grabar’s application of inverted plotinic perspective (Grabar 1946, pp. 112–114) to 23 baptismal rite offered an alternative solution to this problem: according to a hypothesis suggested by Wharton, basing on the text of Saint Ambrose,107 the crowns might have been intended as rewards for the newly baptized themselves.108

The central medallion in the apex of the cupola is showing the Baptism of Christ: young bearded Christ is standing in the water, while , posed on his right side, is pouring water on his head from a paten, upon which the Holy Dove descends [Fig. 16]. As was already mentioned above, a large part of the mosaic has been reconstructed – in particular the upper segment of the medallion with heads of Baptist and Christ – and it has been repeatedly suggested that the original design was similar to that of Arian Baptistery, where Baptist lays his hand directly on Christ’s head [Fig. 18].109 On the left side of Christ another male figure is represented, identified by its inscription as a personification of the river Jordan.110 Naturally, the medallion has been generally conceived in direct reference to the liturgy, as representing a historical prefiguration of the baptismal rite taking place beneath.111 Wharton links it not only with the narrative of the historical moment of Christ’s own baptism, but sees in it a typos of the whole ritual unfolding below: the presence of Dove and the laying of Baptist’s hand on Christ’s head refer not only the moment of immersion, but also to the final anointment, which permits a closer identification of the initiate and, at the same time, proclaims the power of the bishop as being the descendant of John the Baptist.112

2.4. Perception

As was already noted above, the perception and experience of the Baptistery’s space is something that has not been extensively treated. However, although rather between the lines, we can come across several speculations about its effects and significance for the fifth- century initiate, sometimes supported by the descriptions of how the space has been affecting the contemporary beholder.

Nordström’s transmission of the idea of aurum coronarium or aurum oblaticum (Nordström 1953, pp. 36–46). 107 Cf. p. 39, n. 235 herein. 108 Wharton 1987, pp. 374–375; Wharton 1995, pp. 125–126. 109 See esp. Wharton 1995, pp. 118–120. 110 This representation of baptism is based on Mark 1, 9–11 and Matthew 3, 13–17, both mentioning John the Baptist, the Holy Dove and the river Jordan. Personification of Jordan could be explained also through a sermon for Epiphany of Peter Chrysologus, who explicitly talks about Jordan not fleeing from the presence of Trinity at baptism. See Wharton 1995, pp. 120–121; Ivanovici 2016, p. 86. Cf. also Sturaro 2013. 111 See e.g. Casalone 1959, p. 232, who deals also with the issue of incongruity of the rendering of the central medallion, which is, contrary to the rest of the decoration, narrative and bears a temporal value. 112 Wharton 1995, pp. 122–123. 24

Within the whole of the Baptistery’s space, most profound attention has been, in this sense, given to the medallion posed in the centre of the cupola. A number of studies accentuate the assumed identification of the initiate with the historical event of the Baptism of Christ in the moment of his or her own baptism, due to the precise alignment of the image with the baptismal font.113 André Grabar introduced the idea of reading the cupola decoration according to the reversed plotinic perspective, thus providing the Late Antique viewer with a different mode of perception that derives also from the contemporary knowledge about optics.114 According to this view, the succession of the scenes represented unfolds from the upmost image (the Baptism of Christ) to the lower ones, while the higher posed laps over the subsequent one. Grabar further points out the idea that following this mode of viewing, the beholder actually projects himself into the principal object of his image.115 Similar idea has been developed by Bettini116 and later elaborated upon, although from a different perspective, by Ivanovici, who, using the concept of iconicity, noted the effect of mirroring of the central image with the baptisand standing in the font below it.117 In her 1925 article, Giusta Nicco Fasola offered a striking description of the Baptistery, highlighting the interconnectedness of single elements with each other and the structure as a whole.118 According to the scholar, the repetition and richness of the decoration that leaves no free space leads the beholder’s mind to construct the general idea of multiplicity of no beginning and no end: the idea of infinity that is fully embodied in the central medallion – the Baptism of Christ. Overall decorative pattern is in Nicco Fasola’s view leading to the impression of an infinite order and splendour that causes the incomer to “forget instantly every thought, every thought that is not an immediate rapt admiration.”119

Kostof introduced a possible viewpoint of the original beholder into his explanations by noting that the decoration should be self-explanatory rather than expressing precise elements of Christian ideology, regarding the fact that the Baptistery was approached by the initiate only once in his or her life.120 Taking thus into account the unique character of the baptisand’s experience, he claims that the purpose of the monument was not to instruct (which was the case, for example, of basilical nave), but to reveal the mystery – it was meant to communicate a visionary experience, supposed to be “seen only once, but retained in

113 E.g. Sangiorgi 1900; Galassi 1930, p. 41; Wessel 1957, p. 79. 114 Grabar 1946, pp. 112–114. For further elaboration of the concept of plotinic perspective in Late Antique art, see Grabar 1945 and 1992. 115 Grabar elaborates upon this concept from the perspective of the author as being actually also the first beholder of the artwork produced. Cf. Grabar 1945, p. 21. 116 Bettini 1950, pp. 46–48. 117 Ivanovici 2016, pp. 79–81. Cf. also p. 27 herein. 118 Nicco Fasola 1925, pp. 245–249. 119 “[…] dimentica all’istante ogni riflessione, ogni pensiero che non sia immediata rapita ammirazione”. Nicco Fasola 1925, p. 245. 120 Kostof 1965, p. 66. 25 memory further on.”121 Pointing out the obvious disaccord between the crude exterior of the building and the supreme lightness and colourfulness of its interior, Kostof argues that by passing through the door of the Baptistery, the initiate was invited to glance into the eternal world that he awaited, “palpably splendid and overpowering; alive and in motion, it glittered with the diffractive glory of some celestial vision.”122 It is also in this manner that Kostof writes about the space behind the door of the Baptistery as not being only an “interior of a religious building but the likeness of that other world.”123 Wharton uses the initiate’s perspective primarily in order to suggest a new interpretation of the Baptistery’s visual decoration, stating that by “replacing the iconographer with the initiate as the object of decoration, the program of the Neonian Baptistery becomes legible.”124 Conceiving the liturgical performance with broader topographic and social context, she links the Baptistery’s space with Foucault’s notion of heterotopia.125 Its heterotopic value lies, according to the scholar, in the “material rendering of the remarkable power of the bishop, the efficacious force of the baptismal rite and the coercion of public spectacle.”126 Contrary to Kostof, Wharton conceives the decorative program as being a final lesson in process of Christian indoctrination, aiming at convincing the public about the authority of the episcopate.127 In a similar manner, Foletti reflects the experience of the baptismal rite – and especially the process of washing of the feet – in order to provide a new perspective on the iconographical and iconological significance of the interior decoration. In contrast to Wharton, Foletti reflects not only the stages of the baptism proper, but emphasizes also the importance of the experiences underwent by the initiates during the catechumenate. Consequently, while “following the steps of the neophytes in the course of their initiation rite,”128 he interprets the decoration as a sort of allusion on the liturgical events taking place during the Lenten period, approaching thus in more realistic terms the question of what meaning could have the decorative program acquired for the initiate him- or herself. Sophie Schweinfurth, in her 2013 article, explains the Baptistery’s space from a different point of view, this time not dealing directly with the decorative program itself but attempting to approach the initiate’s experience, although rather in terms of its spiritual rather than perceptual content.129 She does so by using the notion of chôra,130 implying that the initiate experienced some kind of fusion with his or her environment and with the divine,

121 Kostof 1965, p. 123. 122 Kostof 1965, p. 123. 123 Kostof 1965, p. 123. 124 Wharton 1987, p. 373. 125 For the notion of heterotopia as a space of “otherness”, see Foucault 1984. 126 Wharton 1995, p. 128. 127 Wharton 1995, pp. 129, 131. 128 “suivant pas à pas les néophytes au cours de leur rite d’initiation”. Foletti 2009, p. 134. 129 Schweinfurth 2013. 130 For the notion of chôra within the interpretation of sacred space, see Isar 2006. Cf. also Pentcheva 2011. 26 the dissolution of terrestrial and celestial space. Using the formulation of Nicoletta Isar,131 Schweinfurth claims that the baptismal space animated by the ritual becomes “a living space of presence and participation in the divine, a personified space, identical and continuous with the self and with the divine – an event, one might say, of ontological continuity between being and becoming.”132 The implications of baptismal rite for the baptisand’s experience have been elaborated also by Ivanovici. However, although admitting that spaces linked with liturgy “had to stimulate a certain emotional response and transmit a particular worldview,”133 he states that “perception is moulded by the cultural context”134 and therefore, “the analysis of Late Antique sacraments and their staging reveals the intentions of their designers rather than the response of their audience.”135 According to the scholar, the fundamental signification of baptism for its participants, as a life-altering experience, lies in its capability to transform their ontological status. This claim touches both the baptisands as well as the celebrants, who are functioning as iconic screens for the projection of God’s image, as they, at least temporarily, embody the divine presence.

Having now a general idea of the architecture and decoration of the Baptistery, as well as directions in which the previous studies approached it, in the next chapter, we will look into the way in which was the interior space experienced in course of the ritual. In pursuing our goal, it is necessary to conceive the monument and its decorative program as it presumably looked like in the fifth century. First of all, it is important to reiterate that, despite the unparalleled state of preservation of the Baptistery, the elevation of the floor and related disappearance of the lower part of the decoration inevitably leaves the present visitor with a considerably altered impression of the interior space. We will thus bear in mind that the lowest approximately three metres above the ground were coated by marble revetment upon which the painted absidioles were posed, followed by the parts we see today – lower arcade with arches covered with mosaics, second arcade featuring architectural band of polychrome stuccoes, and the three-part mosaic decoration of the cupola rising above [Fig. 6]. At the same time, we will consider the presence of an elaborate lighting system, as well as the embedded circular baptismal font in the middle and an episcopal throne placed within the eastern niche.

131 Isar 2006, p. 81. 132 Schweifurth 2013, p. 72. 133 Ivanovici 2016, p. 6. 134 Ivanovici 2016, p. 7. 135 Ivanovici 2016, p. 6. 27

3. Ritual of baptism: transforming the space, activating the body

“Now time warns us to speak of the mysteries and to set forth the very purpose of the sacraments. If we had thought that this should have been taught those not yet initiated before baptism, we would be considered to have betrayed rather than to have portrayed the mysteries; then there is the consideration that the light of the mysteries will infuse itself better in the unsuspecting than if some sermon had preceded them.”136

After getting acquainted with the Orthodox Baptistery, its architecture and interior decoration, we will now proceed to explore the baptismal rite that took place within its walls. At first, we will briefly go through the sources upon which we build our knowledge of its form in the first centuries of . Afterwards, we will focus on the pre-baptismal preparations, which in many ways determined the baptismal experience itself. Finally, we will then approach the process of baptism proper and explore its individual stages. Simultaneously, we will reflect on the staging that accompanied the baptismal rite, which, as we will see, considerably transformed the perception of the Baptistery’s interior space and participated on the full-body experience of the initiates.

The ritual of baptism represented a fundamental act in the life of an early Christian believer, one that allowed him a full access to the newly established community and, at the same time, opened his way to salvation. In this sense, it has often been interpreted, in anthropological terms, as a rite of passage.137 As such, Christian baptismal ritual follows a long tradition of rites of initiation, present among the majority of earlier religions.138 In the first centuries, the Christian initiation rite was usually undergone by adults, men and women alike, although during the course of the fourth and fifth centuries, children baptism had already been gaining on popularity.139 It consisted of a series of acts of

136 “Nunc de mysteriis dicere tempus admonet atque ipsam rationem sacramentorum edere, quam ante baptismum si putassemus insinuandam nondum initiatis prodidisse potius quam edidisse aestimaremur. Deinde quod inopinantibus melius se ipsa lux mysteriorum infuderit quam si ea sermo aliqui praecucurrisset.” Ambrose, De mysteriis 1 (SC 25bis, p. 156; FC 44, p. 5). 137 “Rite of passage” is a term established by Arnold Van Gennep in his seminal work Les rites de passage, published first in 1909. See Van Gennep 1969. Cf. also Eliade 1958 and Turner 1969. For more recent reflections, see also Grimes 2000 and Goguel D’Allondans 2002. Cf. Johnson 2007a, who applies the structure of a rite of passage on the Christian baptismal ritual. In the context of art history, the concept of the rite of passage has been recently applied within the study of the narthex of the basilica of Santa Sabina in Rome. See Foletti/Gianandrea 2015. 138 Number of earlier religions and sects practiced initiation rituals using the immersion into water. For overview, see De Puniet 1925, pp. 251–343. 139 We will consider here the model baptismal rite of a catechumen who received baptism in adult age and went through the exemplary instruction of catechumenate. Other possible ways to receive baptism were either in early age or in the danger of death (baptism of “clinici”, see n. 176 herein), for 28 doctrinal, moral or sacramental character, and even though it differed considerably across places and periods, it kept a common fundament.140 Usually, baptism was performed only once a year, on Easter, the day of Resurrection.141 Basically, it could be distinguished into three parts: (1) a lengthy pre-baptismal period, beginning with the initiate’s admission to catechumenate and consisting of regular preparations on the reception of the sacrament of baptism, (2) an intensive preparation during Lenten period culminating in baptismal rite itself, and (3) a post-baptismal period, covering Easter week, when mystagogical catecheses were performed with the aim to provide further explanations of the mysteries enacted.

Our knowledge of baptismal ritual during the first centuries of Christianity is based on early written sources, mostly Church orders or catechetical treatises, covering almost all Christian regions. Due to the disciplina arcani,142 that is, the “discipline of the secret”, which was observed in this initial period and forbade communicating the Christian mysteries of baptism, chrism and Eucharist to the non-initiated, the documents we are confronted with are very scarce and often fragmentary. Any attempt to construct a complete image of how the baptismal rite looked like in those early stages thus resembles assembling a jigsaw puzzle with a great number of missing tiles. Regarding the rite performed in the Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna in the middle of the fifth century, the most relevant source remains the catecheses of Ambrose, bishop of Milan (374–397). As has been already argued for a number of times,143 Ravenna’s liturgy was presumably following the Milanese rite, and we could thus assume that the local process of baptism was more or less similarly structured as the one upon which Ambrose elaborates. In this context, the essential sources are Ambrose’s De mysteriis144 and De sacramentis145, which belong to the category of mystagogical catecheses, i.e. texts that were read to the newly

which the circumstances of catechism and baptism were different. Cf. Saxer 1988, p. 242, who also points out the insufficient study of those special cases. 140 Cf. Saxer 1988; Siniscalco 2009. 141 Legitimate was also its celebration on Pentecost. See. e.g. Tertullian, De baptismo 19, 1–3; Cf. Saxer 1988, p. 89. The actual historical event of Christ’s baptism, however, should have taken place on the day of Epiphany. Performing baptism on Easter supports its strong relation with the death and resurrection of Christ. Cf. Leo the Great, Letter 16, PL 54, col. 695–704, who explains the celebration of the rite on Easter. 142 Cf. Ambrose, De sacramentis I.1; De mysteriis 1. See also : PG 33, col. 352–353, 366. 143 See e.g. Wharton 1987; Foletti 2009. 144 For Latin original and translation in French, see Ambroise de Milan, Des sacraments. Des mystères. Explication du symbole, Bernard Botte ed., (Sources chrétiennes 25bis), 2e édition, Paris: Cerf 1980, pp. 156–193 (will be hereafter abbreviated as SC 25bis). For English translation, see Saint Ambrose, Theological and Dogmatic Works, Ray Deferrari ed. and trans., (The Fathers of the Church Series, vol. 44), Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press 1963, pp. 3–28 (will be hereafter abbreviated as FC 44). 145 For Latin original and translation in French, see SC 25bis, pp. 60–155. For English translation, see FC 44, pp. 265–328. 29 baptized during the Easter week and provided explanation of the events recently experienced.146 However, even if Ambrose provides us with relatively detailed information about the baptism itself, when it comes to catechetical preparation, his writings seem to be rather stingy and we thus have to seek for the missing pieces within other preserved documents. In the following brief overview, I will present the sources that have been conceived as the most relevant for the study of baptismal rite in the first five centuries, and to which we may eventually turn in the need of substituting for the lacking information.

3.1. Primary sources

The scarcity of the primary sources is particularly evident in the period before the Peace of the Church (313), when Christian believers were still facing the risk of persecutions. The first non-biblical document concerning baptism, the Didachè, dates back to the turn of the first and second centuries.147 A small number of texts are preserved from the second century,148 and from the third century also only a few relevant treatises remain: the Didascalia Apostolorum (first half of the third century, Antioch),149 the Apostolic Tradition (third century, Rome),150 writings of Tertullian (beginning of the third century, Carthage),151 of Carthage (c. 200–258)152 and Origen (c. 185–250, Alexandria/Caesarea).153 From the beginning of the fourth century, following the end of the period of persecutions, the religious institutions were gradually developed and the structure of the ritual practice became more clearly defined. At the same time, also its documentation flourishes: from the fourth and fifth centuries a considerable number of more or less elaborated treatises came down from more than a dozen authors.154 Except of Ambrose, whose writings were already mentioned above, the principal

146 For the discussion of attribution of those texts to Ambrose and their authenticity, see SC 25bis, pp. 7–25. 147 See La doctrine 1978. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 37–40. 148 Namely the Epistle of pseudo-, Shephard of Hermas, work of Justin the and . For the analysis of these texts, see Saxer 1988, pp. 35–94. 149 For edition and translation, see Didascalia 1905. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 215–220. 150 For edition and translation, see La tradition 1984. The authorship of Apostolic Tradition has been ascribed to , however, some scholars propose its later dating and palimpsest composition. In any case, the parts concerning baptismal liturgy are believed to be related to Roman environment. For the discussion, see also Bradshaw 2002, pp. 80–83. 151 Tertullian’s (150/60–220) De baptismo (PL 1, col. 1305–1334) is the oldest systematic treatise dedicated to the baptismal ritual itself. Together with his other writings, it permits us to reconstruct the baptismal rite practised in Carthage around the year 200. For the translation, see Le baptême 1976. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 121–138. 152 PL 3–4; For English commented edition, see Born to New Life 1992. Cf. also Saxer 1969, pp. 106–144. 153 PG 11–17. Origen provides us with theological (not ritual) treatises of baptism. Cf. Blanc 1972, Saxer 1988, pp. 145–194. 154 Saxer 1988, pp. 106–107. 30 texts are the works of Cyril of Jerusalem (c. 313–386),155 Egeria (second half of the fourth century),156 (344/49–407, Constantinople/Antioch),157 Theodore of Mopsuestia (c. 350–428, Antioch),158 (354–430, Carthage),159 Quodvultdeus of Carthage (d. 454),160 and the three : (c. 330–379),161 (c. 335–c. 395),162 and (c. 329– 390).163 In case of Ravenna’s liturgy, the homilies of Peter Chrysologus, bishop of Ravenna c. 431– 450, are also of great relevance.164 However, direct testimonies of the baptismal experience are unfortunately very rare. One of such is provided by Cyprian, later bishop of Carthage,165 another by Augustine, who was baptized in Milan by Ambrose in 386.166

3.2. Catechetical instruction

After an overview of relevant sources on which we will be basing our endeavour, we will now explore the course of the pre-baptismal formation, which, as we have noted, served to prepare the initiate on the reception of the sacrament of baptism.

155 PG 33; trans. in Catechesi 1994. Cyril’s episcopate in Jerusalem dates to the middle of the fourth century. 23 pre- and post-baptismal catecheses are preserved, the authorship of some of which is sometimes attributed to his successor John, which shifts also their dating to the beginning of the 5th century. For the discussion, see Saxer 1988, p. 195; Hellemo 1989, pp. 146–148; Siniscalco 2009, p.9, n. 2. Cyril’s catecheses are commenting only on the immediate pre-baptismal preparation during Lent, not on the longer preceding period. Cf. Saxer, p. 196. 156 So-called Journal of Egeria is a travel book from Egeria’s pilgrimage to Palestine, made between 381 and 384, in the time when Cyril was still the bishop of Jerusalem. As such, it completes the image of Jerusalem’s baptismal rite, partially reconstructed from Cyril’s catecheses. For recent translation, see Egeria's Travels 1981. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 211–214. 157 PG 49, col. 231–240; trans. in The Liturgy 1967. Pre-baptismal catecheses and an Easter vigil are preserved from John Chrysostom, written probably between 386 and 398. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 241– 265. 158 Theodore’s work comprises 16 catechetical homilies, 14 of which are pre-baptismal. See Commentary 1933. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 267–296; Hellemo 1989, pp. 199–204. 159 PL 32–46. Augustine comments on baptism and catechetical preparations within a number of texts. The most relevant are in this sense his Lenten sermons; see Sermons 1959; pp. 83–116. See also De catechizandis 1950, pp. 3–236, Confessiones 1953; Enchiridion 1950, pp. 357–472. 160 Quotvultdeus was bishop of Carthage between 437 and 439. From this period, a series of sermons addressed to competentes is preserved. For translation, see The Creedal Homilies 2004. 161 For Basil’s treatise De baptismo, see PG 31, col. 1511–1630, translated in Il battesimo 1976. 162 For Gregory’s homily against those who delay their baptism, Adversus eos qui baptismum differunt, see PG 46, col. 415–432. 163 PG 36, col. 359–430, trans. in Le baptême 1962, pp. 111–150. 164 See Sermons 2004. The homilies of Peter Chrysologus were recently linked to the visual program of the Orthodox Baptistery by Ivanovici. See Ivanovici 2016; cf. also pp. 11 and 27 herein. 165 Cyprian of Carthage, Epistle 1, 3–4, translated in Born to New Life 1992, pp. 21–22. 166 Confessiones IX (Confessiones 1953). 31

The commitment of undertaking baptism was done approximately three years before the actual ritual.167 It begun with the acceptation of the aspirant who, supported by a sponsor or respondent who had already acquired Christian faith,168 had to see a gathering of a committee, or possibly even the bishop himself,169 that examined his motives for the given decision, as well as his social, professional and familial situation.170 If the candidate fulfilled the given conditions, he was presented the essential fundaments of Christian faith and moral. When he accepted, he was inscribed into the institution of catechumenate and received the status of catechumenus or audiens.171 Ambrose does not tell us much about the ritual that followed the inscription, however, he mentions that the newly accepted catechumens received a sign of cross on their forehead.172 Augustine mentions also the sign of the cross, but adds moreover the imposition of hand, a formula of exorcism accompanied by exsufflation173 and followed by tasting of the salt.174 From this moment on, the catechumen became Christian, being able to go to the church (although not participate in the mysteries) and receiving regular lectures and preaching. Nonetheless, there was still a long way to go. John Chrysostom emphasizes the difference in the status of catechumens from that of the Christians who were already baptized, in that they are not enabled the access to the mysteries and even if they could participate on certain elements of Christian life, they remained alien, not yet being properly incorporated into the Christian community.175 Initially serving as an immediate preparation for baptism, however, the period of catechumenate changed its social status after the Peace of the Church. Instead of bringing the risk of persecution, it could hereafter convey certain social advantages, and has been intentionally prolonged for longer periods of time. Despite the resentfulness of the , a great number of initiates have been remaining in the more or less clearly defined stage of audientes or catechumeni, which provided them a possibility to enjoy the advantages

167 This period could have been prolonged or abbreviated according to the progress and behaviour of the catechumen. Cf. Saxer 1988, pp. 113. For intentional prolongation, see note 176 herein. 168 For the issue of respondents, see Siniscalco 2009, p. 10. 169 Apostolic Tradition, 19, speaks about certain sort of “doctors”, not necessarily members of the clergy, who were in charge of acceptance or refusal of the candidate to catechumenate. See La Tradition 1984, pp. 76–77. Augustine, on the contrary, in De catechizandis rudibus testifies that he himself, as the bishop, lead this initial dialogue with the candidate. Saxer 1988, p. 385. 170 The conditions for acceptance were not particularly strict, however, there has been a relatively large number of professions that might cause an exclusion of the candidate who practised them. Cf. Saxer 1966, pp. 111–112; Saxer 1988, pp. 110–113. 171 Saxer 1988, p. 383. 172 Ambrose, De mysteriis IV, 20. 173 Exsufflation, or blowing into the face of competens, was considered a purifying act. Testimonies of exsufflations are preserved also e.g. in catecheses of Cyril of Jerusalem, PG 33, col. 348 and Apostolic Tradition, 20 (La Tradition 1984, pp. 78–79). 174 Augustine, De Catechizandis 26, 50, 231; Confessiones I, 11. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 383. In Rome, this ritualized event was more complex as well, comprising also unctions and exorcisms. Cf. Foletti/Gianandrea 2015, p. 37. 175 PG 59, col. 151. Cf. Saxer 1988, p. 243. 32 of the Christian community without the necessity to lead a life free of sin, and attended their baptism only in danger of upcoming death.176 Whenever the catechumens decided to undergo the rite, they must have applied for acceptance. With the necessary testimony of their sponsor or respondent, they were once again submitted to an examination of their motivation and their deeds.177 When accepted, the catechumens were inscribed178 and thereby acquired a new status – that of competentes179 – which would subsequently open their way to the intensive preparation during the forty-day period of Lent.180 Becoming a competens promised the candidates an upcoming revelation of the mystery and, at the same time, obliged them to attend a series of physically as well as mentally demanding procedures. Such intensification of the preparations for those seriously committed to baptism was justified by the view of the Lenten period as a means of competens’ participation in the Passion of Christ.181

The continuous instruction was built on two fundamental elements: the symbolism of the rituals and of the Scriptures.182 During Lent, the catechetical teachings became more frequent,183 now consistently revolving around dogmatic, moral and sacramental content.184 Cyril of Jerusalem emphasizes the importance of receiving the catechetical instruction with zeal and ardour, as it is the fundament of Christian faith and community, comparing it to the foundations of a building or the roots of a plant.185 Within the pre-baptismal preparations, the competentes were daily given a lecture based on the Scriptures (Ambrose mentions that

176 John Chrysostom speaks about the baptism of the clinici (PG 60, col. 23–26, cf. Saxer 1988, p. 242), while Gregory of Nyssa emphasizes the necessity to observe the given time frames in a homily to those who delay their baptism, PG 46, col. 416c. Cf. also Gregory of Nazianzus, PG 36, col. 372b–373a. This problem was gradually solved by consistently establishing a practice of child baptism, which led to dissolution of catechumenate in its traditional form. See Hellemo 1989, pp. 130–132. 177 According to Cyril of Jerusalem, the motives should have been entirely spiritual, in contrary to “human” ones, such as the will to please one’s friend or fear of losing the love of one’s spouse. PG 33, col. 341. Cf. Saxer 1988, pp. 197–198. 178 As the names of the catechumens were inscribed for baptism in special registers, this procedure was called nomendatio (“name giving”). See Ambrose, De sacramentis III.12; cf. also Saxer 1988, p. 342. For the Eastern equivalent, called onomatographia, cf. Saxer 1988, p. 196. 179 Augustine, Sermon 216, 1 (Sermons 1959, pp. 150–151) explains the title competentes in terms of people seeking together one and the same thing at the same time. The same meaning had the word electus, used at Rome, and illuminatus or photizomenos (“illuminated”) in the East; cf. Hamman 1992, p. 152. Ambrose himself sometimes also calls the catechumens inscribed for baptism electi; cf. Saxer, p. 342. 180 In Jerusalem, this period lasted eight weeks, seven weeks in Africa. Cf. Saxer, pp. 212. 181 This theological link is well traceable for example in the work of Leo the Great (c. 400–461). Cf. Saxer 1988, pp. 586–588; Siniscalco 2009, p. 15; Foletti/Gianandrea 2015, p. 126. 182 SC 25bis, p. 33. 183 E.g. Egeria mentions that daily catechesis in Jerusalem lasted three hours. See Egeria’s Travels 1981. 184 Hellemo 1989, p. 132. The explanations of the fundaments of Christian faith within pre-baptismal catecheses were based on individual articles of the Scripture. See Saxer, p. 200 for an overview of the parallels in case of the catecheses of Cyril of Jerusalem. 185 PG 33, col. 352. Cf. Saxer 1988, p. 198. 33 they were instructed, among other things, of the history of the or presented parts of the Proverbs),186 while the actual interpretation of the sacraments of baptism, chrism and Eucharist was postponed until the Easter week, after baptism itself, when the mystagogical catecheses took place.187 Also the penitential exercises were multiplied, being considered as a means of internal purification.188 The competentes were subjected to fasts, vigils, confessions, genuflections, scrutinies and exorcisms, while again being encouraged to receive them with enthusiasm.189 Everyone was obliged to continence and to observe the fast during the day, until the evening meal, while completely renouncing the consumption of wine and meat. In the church, the competentes were standing apart, wearing the shifts of penitence.190 In the case of Milan, at least three scrutinies, accompanied by exorcisms, were performed on the fourth, third and second Sunday before Easter, probably by the bishop himself.191 Ambrose gives no specific description of the character of those,192 however, we may have a partial image of the arduous process of scrutinies basing upon the writings of Augustine and Quodvultdeus of Carthage.193 By all accounts, a scrutiny was extremely exhaustive procedure, for every part of it was aiming at evoking awe and humility in the candidate. At the same time, it was a sort of liminal act that could have cause the denial of the competentes’ participation on upcoming baptism, in case the bishop found any traces of their either mental or physical impurity.194 The rite started at dawn, following the candidate’s sleepless night, spent in prayers and fasting. The competentes gathered in the church, on a place visible to all partaking, only scarcely dressed, tired, hungry and cold, standing barefoot on goatskins.195 At first, they were subjected to public interrogation, being repeatedly questioned about their behaviour, effort

186 Ambrose, De mysteriis 1: “De moralibus quotidianum sermonem habuimus, cum uel patriarchum gesta uel Prouerbiorum legerentur praecepta.” (SC 25bis, p. 156). 187 Cf. Saxer 1988, p. 342; Hellemo 1989, p. 132. 188 Saxer 1988, p. 198. 189 See e.g. Cyril of Jerusalem, PG 33, col. 348. Cf. Saxer 1988, p. 198. 190 Saxer 1988, p. 385. 191 We cannot assume that the scrutinies in Ravenna were taking place exactly on the same time, however, it is probable that they were delivered in more or less same manner. 192 Regarding the “mystery of scrutinies”, he only mentions that “an examination was made so that nothing unclean might still cling the body of anyone of you. Using exorcism, we sought out and brought about a sanctifying not only of your body but also you soul.” [“Inquisitum est, ne inmunditia in corpore alicuius haereret. Per exorcismum non solum corporis, sed etiam animae quaesita et adhibita est sanctification.”] Ambrose, Explanatio 1, SC 25bis, p. 46. 193 For Augustine, see Sermon 216, which should have been delivered to competentes shortly after a scrutiny (Sermons 1959, pp. 150–161). For Quodvultdeus, see The Creedal Homilies 2004. Cf. also Saxer 1988, pp. 406–412. 194 See Tradition Apostolic, 20 (La Tradition 1984, pp. 78–79); Augustine, Sermon 216, 11 (Sermons 1959, p. 155). 195 Goatskins, or cilicia, were used as a symbolic reference to and Eve’s garments they took on after their expulsion from the Garden of Eden (Cf. Genesis 3, 21: “And the Lord God made garments of skins for the man and for his wife, and clothed them). This practice is testified in Africa and the East, however, it is not sure whether the goatskins were used also in the West. See Augustine, Sermon 216, 11 (Sermons 1959, p. 160). 34 and progress. This examination of conscience was followed by an exorcism, consisting in pronouncing a formula and exsufflation. This was afterwards, probably at a place providing more privacy, supplemented by further inspection of the body, in order to find potential physical traces of the presence of the Devil.196

During the days preceding baptism, also a ritual opening of the eyes was done. This rite is linked to Christ’s miracle of curing the blind man, mentioned in John 9, 6–7,197 which was read in the Milanese area on Saturday of the third week of Lent, on the occasion of the second scrutiny of the catechumens.198 Ambrose interprets it as a metaphor of gaining new spiritual vision that will be fully acquired through baptism.199 The rite was supposedly performed by spreading mud over the eyes of competentes, thus permitting them to experience the biblical event themselves.200 The opening was then fulfilled by the baptismal act: the initiate, invited to enter into the font and immersed into the consecrated water, in parallel to the blind man who washed himself in the pool of Siloam, was finally enabled to see with his spiritual sight: “Through the font of the Lord and the preaching of the Lord's passion, your eyes were then opened. You who seemed before to have been blind in heart began to see the light of the sacraments.”201 The last Sunday before Easter the explanation of the Creed, called also the traditio symbolii, was performed.202 Each competens was obliged to learn it by heart in order to be prepared for its redditio – the public recitation on Easter Eve.203 Apostolic Tradition mentions that on Thursday before baptism, the competentes were allowed to take a bath, as on the whole period of Lent they were forbidden to do so.204 The whole night before the rite the competentes were supposed to stay awake, again in fasting and prayers, and to attend a last catechesis.205 Both physically and mentally exhausted, although presumably full of awe and expectations, the competentes were finally allowed to experience the mystery of baptism.

196 Traces of any physical illness would lead to the presumption of diabolic presence. Saxer 1988, p. 386. 197 Mentioned also in Matthew 9, 27–30; 12, 22; 20, 30–34; Mark 8, 22–25; 10, 46–52 and Luke 18, 35–43. 198 Foletti/Gianandrea 2015, p. 116. 199 Ambrose, De sacramentis III, 11–15 (FC 44, pp. 293–295). 200 “So, when you gave your name, he took mud and besmeared it over your eyes.” [“Ergo quando dedisti nomen tuum, tulit lutum et linuit super oculos tuos”], Ambrose, De sacramentis III, 12 (SC 25bis, p. 98; FC 44, p. 294). 201 “Per fontem domini et praedicationem dominicae passionis tunc aperti sunt oculi tui; qui ante corde uidebaris esse caecatus, coepisti lumen sacramentorum uidere.” Ambrose, De sacramentis III, 15 (SC 25bis, p. 100; FC 44, p. 295). 202 Ambrose, Explanatio, XX, 4. Cf. Saxer, p. 342. 203 Saxer 1988, pp. 342, 569. 204 Apostolic Tradition, 20 (La tradition 1984, pp. 78–79). 205 Apostolic Tradition, 20 (La tradition 1984, pp. 78–79). 35

3.3. Easter Eve: revealing the mystery

“For the light is more powerful than the shade, truth than figure […].”206

After getting acquainted with the course of pre-baptismal preparations, we will now proceed to baptism itself. The ritual was performed during the night of Holy Saturday, progressing into early morning of Easter Sunday.207 Ambrose’s De sacramentis and De mysteriis convey us a large number of relatively systematized information, on the basis of which we are able to reconstruct the course of baptism in the West in a detailed manner. His vivid description will help us in determining the stages of the baptismal rite and identify its multisensory reality that engaged the whole body of the baptisand. Ambrose mentions nine individual rites that were enacted on Easter Eve: (1) apertio, or opening of the senses, (2) pre-baptismal anointment, (3) renunciation of the devil and acceptation of Christ, (4) consecration of the baptismal water, (5) immersion into the font, (6) dressing into white garments, (7) unction of the head, (8) washing of the feet, and (9) the spiritual seal, or perfectio. In case of the Orthodox Baptistery, most of its interpretations that take into account the baptismal liturgy have directly linked its decoration with the individual parts of the rite, assuming that all of them took place already inside.208 However, I would like to propose that the first three stages took place before entering the interior space, possibly in an atrium that would be attached to the building,209 or, given its proximity to the adjacent basilica, even in the Ursiana’s narthex.210 Ambrose himself, as well as numerous other sources, does not mention the exact moment of entering into the Baptistery, however, the testimonies of Cyril of Jerusalem, Theodore of Mopsuestia or Augustine indicate that the competentes were allowed the access inside only after the three preparatory stages were completed.211 If we take into account the large number of participants, this solution could have been chosen also for practical reasons, the atrium or the basilica’s narthex being of more convenient spatial dispositions.212 At the same time, existence of an atrium would offer a

206 “Potior est enim lux quam umbra, ueritas quam figura […].” Ambrose, De mysteriis 49 (SC 25bis, p. 184; FC 44, p. 23). 207 Ambrose, De sacramentis I.2, speaks about the ritual being performed on Easter Eve (or Sabbath), while e.g. Apostolic Tradition, 21 mentions its enactment with the cock-crowing on Easter Sunday’s morning (La tradition, p. 81). The actual historical event of Christ’s baptism, however, should have taken place on the day of Epiphany. Performing baptism on Easter supports its strong relation with the death and resurrection of Christ. Cf. Leo the Great, Letter 16, PL, LIV, 695–704, who explains the celebration of the rite on Easter. 208 See chapter 2.3. herein. 209 Cf. Siniscalco 2009, p. 10–11; Saxer 1988, p. 343. 210 As has been recently argued by Foletti, this was the case of basilica and baptistery of Santa Sabina in Rome. See Foletti/Gianandrea 2015. 211 For Cyril, see Saxer 1988, p. 205; for Theodore, see Saxer 1988, p. 281; for Augustine, see Saxer, p. 389. 212 In the fourth-century Milan, Ambrose attests that a thousand initiates were attending the ritual: “You O Lord Jesus has today cleansed a thousand here [in Milan] for us.” Ambrose, De spiritu sancto 36 possible solution to the controversial issue of baptismal nudity. Since this question, regards our closer attention, we will deal with it in the first place, before embarking on our endeavour of exploring the baptismal experience proper.

3.3.1. Undressing: question of nudity

Whether or not were the baptisands completely undressed before entering into the Baptistery cannot be said with certainty, as Ambrose remains silent regarding this question. Undressing of competentes is, however, testified in the Apostolic Tradition,213 as well as it is documented in the Eastern sources: Theodore of Mopsuestia, John Chrysostom and Cyril (or John) of Jerusalem all mention it.214 Nudity is explained as a symbolical return to the state of Adam and Eve before the original sin, and at the same time, it alludes to the condition of Christ, tormented on the cross. Moreover, getting rid of old clothes is also a part of renouncing one’s former life and sins.215 As was pointed out by Saxer, who assumes simply that baptism by immersion supposes nudity,216 it is also supported by a Western document from the turn of the fourth and fifth centuries, De singularite clericorum. This treatise speaks about the dangers posed to clerics by living under the same roof with women, nevertheless, it claims that as for liturgy, there should be no risk even in case of their complete nudity during baptism.217 Similar testimonies are preserved also from sixth-century Rome.218 However, an argument against this assumption was put forward by Wharton, who emphasizes the peculiarities of Ravenna’s Baptistery compared to its Eastern and African counterparts. In opposition to the latter ones, which had a structured interior space in order to provide the baptisands a bit of privacy,219 the Orthodox Baptistery has a “voluptuously open interior”.220 Wharton seeks the solution in that the baptisands wore shifts during the whole ritual, which would represent a slight deviation from the tradition.221 However, this

I.17, quoted after Wharton 1987, p. 373. We do not know the number of initiates in fifth-century Ravenna, however, even if it would be lower due the city’s population count and increasing popularity of child baptism, we can still count with a considerably high number of baptisands. 213 “Ponent autem vestes […] et nemo sumat rem alienam deorsum in aqua.” Apostolic Traditition, 21 (La tradition 1984, pp. 81–82). 214 Theodore of Mopsuestia claimed that baptisands should be “strip completely, as Adam was originally naked and not ashamed. Clothes are a proof of mortality.” Quoted after Wharton 1987, p. 362. For John Chrysostom, see Saxer 1986, pp. 262–263. For Cyril of Jerusalem, see Siniscalco 2009, p. 11. 215 Catéchèses 1966, p. 102. Cf. also Siniscalco 2009, p. 12. 216 Saxer 1969, p. 127. 217 PL 4, col. 847. Cf. Saxer 1969, p. 127. 218 Saxer 1988, p. 593. 219 For example, the baptismal complex of the basilica at Kourion in Cyprus, where the “small font room is closeted between two larger spaces, allowing initiates a very private immersion”. Wharton 1987, p. 362. 220 Wharton 1987, p. 362; Wharton 1995, p. 121. 221 Wharton 1995, p. 121. 37 supposition does not seem probable regarding the symbolical, as well as practical aspect of the rite. On one hand, it would subvert the concept of nudity explained above, on the other hand, it would also thwart one of the last stages, the dressing into white robes, as it would be pointless to put a new, bright white robe over one that was soaking wet from the font. Still, we can assume that exposing one’s naked body in front of other members of the community (including the congregation and possibly also sponsors) would be uncomfortable and could thus distort the deepness of the religious experience. At the same time, no matter how the baptisands were spiritually elevated or mentally exhausted at this point due to the pre-baptismal preparations, we have to take into account that the presence of other naked bodies, especially concerning the long-term preceding abstinence, could also cause problems of sexual arousal. This could have been solved by dividing the competentes at the beginning into two groups and thereafter treating men and women separately, as it is attested in the Apostolic Tradition.222 The practical aspect would then be solved by the prior existence of an atrium or narthex at the Baptistery, which would supplant the need for structuring the interior space.

3.3.2. Apertio: Opening of the senses

The first part of the ritual mentioned by Ambrose is the opening of the senses, or apertio.223 The priest touched the competens’ ears and nostrils, smearing them with perfumed oil, while pronouncing the formula: “Effetha, quod est adaperire” (“Effetha, that is, be thou opened”).224 Its meaning is explained through Mark 7, 35–37, in the connection with Christ’s miracle of healing the deaf-and-dumb.225 Instead of the mouth, however, the priest touched the nostrils – this slight change is due to the presence of women, whom it would be inappropriate to touch the lips226 and, at the same time, it enabled the baptisand to receive the good odour of Christ.227 This act could be considered as complementary with the opening of the eyes, performed already earlier, during the last days before baptism.228 While the sense of sight has been already engaged in the process of being opened, now also those of hearing and smell were fully activated, and, as we will see, the candidate had been repeatedly made aware of

222 Apostolic Tradition 21 (La tradition 1984, pp. 80–81). 223 Ambrose, De sacramentis I.2–3, Mysteries 3–4. 224 Ambrose, De mysteriis 3. (SC 25bis, p. 156; FC 44, p. 6); Cf. also De sacramentis I.2. 225 “They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.” 226 Ambrose, De sacramentis I.3; De mysteriis 4. 227 That is, the smell of incense. Cf. 2 Corinthians 2, 15. Ambrose, De sacramentis I.3; De mysteriis 3. On the good smell of Christ’s body, see also Ashbrook Harvey 2006; Palazzo 2014. 228 See. p. 35 herein. 38 this fact. For the right use of all of the senses was a prerequisite for engaging also the spiritual sight, which enabled to truly perceive what was to be revealed.229 Moreover, the use of fragrant oil in this procedure had an important significance, since during the pre- baptismal preparations, only unscented oil was used.230 This striking shift thus literally awakened the baptisand’s olfactory sense. As was pointed out by Susan Ashbrook Harvey, the sense of smell had a crucial importance within the Late Antique liturgy: “For the late Antique Christian, odors served to effect changes in moral condition, to discipline the body towards a more perfectly fashioned existence, to instruct on the qualities and consequences of human and divine natures, to classify and order human-divine relation and interaction […].”231

3.3.3. Pre-baptismal anointment

After this initial boost, the baptisands were to experience yet another sensual awakening. In De sacramentis, Ambrose mentions that before the immersion, the competens’ body was anointed, as he would become an athlete of Christ.232 According to the belief in the first centuries, at the moment of baptism, the temptations provoked by Satan reached their peak.233 As a Roman athlete preparing for a competition, the baptisand had been in this way prepared for the fight that was awaiting him – the fight against the devil, whom he would have to renounce shortly. Whereas the reward of eternal glory of those who succeed to defeat the evil is awaiting one in heaven, the fight is necessary to be lead here on earth.234 As Ambrose puts it,

“You are anointed as an athlete of Christ, as if to contend in the contest of this world. You have professed the struggles of your contest. He who contends has what he hopes for; where there is a struggle, there is a crown. You contend in the world, but you are crowned by Christ. And for the struggles of the world you are crowned, for, although the reward is in heaven, the merit for the reward is established here.”235

229 Cf. Kessler 2000. The verb “to perceive” is applied in this context as literally expressing “to take entirely”; from Latin percipere. On the importance of engaging all of the senses during liturgy, see Palazzo 2014. 230 Ashbrook Harvey 2006, pp. 66–75. 231 Ashbrook Harvey 2006, p. 3. 232 Ambrose, De sacramentis I.4. There is no mention of pre-baptismal anointment in De mysteriis. 233 Siniscalco 2009, p. 13. 234 Cf. 1 Corinthians 9, 24–27: “Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.” 235 “Vnctus es quasi athleta Christi, quasi luctam huius saeculi luctaturus, professus es luctaminis tui certamina. Qui luctatur habet quod speret: ubi certamen, ibi corona. Luctaris in saeculo, sed Coronaris a Christo, et pro certaminibus saeculi coronaris. Nam etsi in caelo preaemium, hic tamen meritum praemii 39

If we assume, from the comparison with the unction of an athlete’s body, that also the baptisand’s whole body was anointed, a considerable difficulty arises. If it was inappropriate to touch the lips of women,236 it is unimaginable that the celebrants would smear the oil over a female’s whole body. This problem could be explained by the presence of deaconesses. Ambrose does not speak attest their presence,237 however, their attendance at baptism in the West during the fifth century was not particularly rare.238 In case no women deaconesses were present, we could suppose that as the practice of opening was changed due to the presence of women, also the unction could have been slightly modified. Solution could be sought in Didascalia, which suggests – in case that no women deaconesses were present – that the unction of the head only should be performed.239

3.3.4. Renunciation of the devil and acceptance of Christ

After thus being prepared for the fight by anointment, the baptisands might have proceeded to the renunciation itself. Account of the renunciation could be found in both De mysteriis and De sacramentis.240 The baptisand, first standing and then kneeling, with hands outstretched in a specific gesture,241 faced west242 and pronounce a formula, which Ambrose states in De sacramentis: “Abrenvntias diabolo et operibvs eivs?” (“Do you renounce the devil and his works?”), followed by “Abrenvntias saecvlo et volvptatibvs eivs?” (“Do you renounce the world and its pleasures?”), to which the baptisand in both cases replied “Abrenvntio” (“I do renounce”).243 Afterwards, the competentes were told to turn to the east, where the sun rises and where Christ was believed to appear within Parousia.244 As Ambrose poses it, “for

conlocatur.” De sacramentis I.4 (SC 25bis, p. 62; FC 44, p. 270). See also Augustine, Sermon 216, 6 (FC 38, pp. 155–156). Similar notions about crowns that are available to all good Christians are not limited only to Western Church. They have been also mentioned by John Chrysostom or Saint Basil. See Saxer 1988. 236 Cf. chapter 3.3.2. herein. 237 Ambrose mentions only the presence of deacon (or levite, leuita; cf. e.g. De sacramentis I.4, I.6; De mysteriis 8), not his feminine counterpart. 238 For the issue of deaconesses’ presence at baptism, see Martimort 1986, pp. 187–216; Foletti 2016. 239 At first, in chapter 9, the Didascalia excludes the presence of deaconesses at baptism entirely, due to the fact that Jesus himself was baptized by man and therefore women should not be present at baptism (Didascalia III, 9). However, it is later accepted based on Luke 8, 3 (Didascalia III, 16). See Didascalia 1905. 240 De sacramentis I.5, I.8; De mysteriis 5, 7. The ritual of renunciation was, in the East, performed already on Friday preceding the Easter Eve. See e.g. John Chrysostom (Saxer 1988, pp. 256–257). 241 Siniscalco 2009, p. 10. 242 As west was traditionally regarded the seat of darkness and obscurity. Cf. e.g. Cyril of Jerusalem’s first mystagogical catechesis in Catéchèses 1966, p. 94. 243 De sacramentis I.5 (SC 25bis, p. 62; FC 44, p. 271). Formulas of renunciation varied from Church to Church, while conserving the same essence. Cf. Siniscalco 2009, pp. 11–12. In some versions of De mysteriis, Ambrose also mentions that the formula was accompanied by spitting (sputari). However, this was probably caused by a mistake of transcription. Cf. Saxer 1986, p. 345. 244 Siniscalco 2009, p. 11. 40 he who renounces the devil, turns towards Christ, recognizes him by a direct glance.”245 This turn towards Christ – at once spiritual as well as represented by actual movement of baptisand’s body – meant a deliberate renouncement of the terrestrial world, of all its luxuries and pleasures. In exchange, it created a bond of faith with Christ, a spiritual bond much more precious than any of the earthly joys, which was hereafter supposed to be carefully guarded and kept in mind.246

3.3.5. Entering into the Baptistery

Following the apertio, anointment and renunciation, the baptisands were now fully prepared for what was to be revealed to them. Consequently, they were allowed, through the western door, to access the inner space of the Baptistery, the “sanctuary of regeneration”, the “Holy of Holies”.247 Upon entering, the baptisands were first exposed to the splendidness of the interior, to that “visionary realm removed from ordinary space and time.”248 The radiance of the inner space, richness of its decoration and lightness of the structure stood in a foremost contrast to the crude exterior of the building, shrouded in the nocturnal darkness.

The assumption that the baptismal rite took place at night249 infers that the interior space would be illuminated by artificial lightning, provided by oil lamps and wax candles.250 Regarding the exact lighting system of the Orthodox Baptistery, a hypothesis concerning the arrangement of oil lamps and candles has been lately proposed by Ivanovici, on the basis of material, textual as well as iconographical evidence.251 According to the scholar, a large circular chandelier, hanging on ropes attached to the eight holes piercing the cupola, was placed in the central space of the Baptistery [Fig. 8].252 Eight metal rings preserved on the window level indicate the existence of either individual hanging lamps or more complex lighting system that would illuminate the lower levels of the interior, while further lamps could have been posed hanging from the window ledge. Considering the presumable

245 “qui enim renuntiat diabolo ad Christum conuertitum, illum directo cernit obtutu.” De mysteriis 7 (SC 25bis, p. 158; FC 44, p. 7). 246 De sacramentis I.5, I.8. 247 Ambrose, De mysteriis 5 (FC 44, p. 6). 248 Deliyannis 2010, p. 100. 249 As we have already mentioned herein above, most of the primary sources mention that baptism took place during the night. Cf. n. 207 herein. 250 According to Liber Pontificalis, three different types of lighting were used in the Late Antique period: coronae, bronze, silver or even golden lamp-holders in the form of cylindrical crown; canthara cereostata, candle holders made of again of bronze, silver or gold; and phara canthara, supports for glass oil lamps in the shape of discs, made of bronze. Also widespread was the use of terracotta lamps. In the Byzantine area, polycandela – hanging chandeliers – were more common. Those were constructed of two concentric circular bands with holes, into which glass lamps filled with oil were inserted. Mondini/Ivanovici 2016. 251 Ivanovici 2014. The same assumptions are further elaborated in Ivanovici 2016. 252 Ivanovici 2014, pp. 22–25. For previous hypotheses, see n. 68 herein. 41 original decoration of the absidioles, the upper part of the niches would also require proper illumination, which could have been again provided by some sort of hanging lamps. The ground level could have then been enlightened by standing candlesticks, two or four per niche. Ivanovici claims that the lighting system, except of serving as illumination of the space and its visual decoration, also emphasized the theophanic character of the ritual and had thus an indicative function for the participants. Accordingly, he proposes that additional lamps or candlesticks could have adorned the font itself, interacting thus with the water surface, and standing on the font’s exit side, leading the baptisands’ way to the niche where the bishop awaited them [Fig. 7].253

Although not emitting light themselves, additional light source would be provided by the reflective surfaces of windows, which were presumably filled with precious glass panes.254 Original glass panels from the Baptistery did not survive, however, we can get an idea of how they might have looked like from the glass panels of the nearby basilica of San Vitale, which are preserved in Ravenna’s Diocesan museum. On basis of these, a virtual reconstruction of the windows of San Vitale, as they possibly appeared in the sixth-century, has been proposed [Fig. 19].255 Not being completely transparent, due to their texture and natural greenish or light blue coloration, the Baptistery’s glass windows would reflect and disperse the light of oil lamps hanging in front of them.256

Such a complex lighting system would undoubtedly have an immense impact on the overall impression of the interior space and its visual decoration, far away from the one we have the opportunity to experience today. As has been lately shown by a number of studies in art history, light was consciously used to transform and animate liturgical spaces, images and objects.257 As Bissera V. Pentcheva has demonstrated, illuminating a tenth-century golden icon with the flickering light of a single candle has the potency to actually “enliven” the object, setting its traits into motion, making thus an incredible difference for the way how we perceive it [Fig. 20].258 Lately, she has performed a similar experiment on two Western

253 See Ivanovici 2014, pp. 25–26. 254 For the use and form of glass windows in Late Antiquity, see Dell’Acqua 2006. 255 Trochin/Knight 2016, pp. 141–143. 256 For the use and qualities of glass in Late Antiquity, see Dell’Acqua 2006, sp. p. 305; Schibille 2014, sp. pp. 34–35. At the same time, also the glass used for oil lamps would have similar tone, adding thus to the colourfulness of the illumination. 257 See esp. James 1996; Franses 2003; Dell’Acqua 2006; Mondini/Ivanovici 2014; Pentcheva 2010; 2011; 2016. 258 Pentcheva used for this experiment the icon of Archangel Michael from the basilica of San Marco treasury in Venice. She has captured the effects of illumination through video recording that is accessible online: [http://www.thesensualicon.com/], last accessed on 25. 11. 2016. Cf. also Pentcheva 2009 and 2010. 42 twelfth-century wooden and silver statues, respectively, showing not only the capacities of light to animate an object regardless the media used, but also, in case of the silver statue, the effects of its interaction with other metallic objects.259

Let us imagine how this potential would be projected within the three-dimensional stucco reliefs of the prophets, filling the second arcade of the Orthodox Baptistery’s interior, the illumination of which would be provided at once by the light of hanging oil lamps and the colourful beams reflected from window surface. The lighting, combined with changing perspective of a beholder moving through the space beneath, could have similar effect as for animating the figures’ expression and postures, which would have been even more dramatic regarding their exaggerated body and facial traits [Fig. 12]. It is tempting to think about their huge eyes, ears, and noses as keeping present the recent memory of the apertio, reminding thus the initiates through the whole time spent in the Baptistery of the importance of activation of the capacities of these very parts of their bodies. This effect could have moreover been emphasized by the figures’ original gilding or polychromy, as well as through the possible insertion of gems or coloured glass into their eyeholes,260 which would offer an additional reflective surface and thus produce the impression of “glittering eyes”.261 A similar effect could have been achieved in case of the smaller stucco scenes above the heads of the prophets, the eyes of which would have also been adorned with precious stones [Fig. 13]. As was noted earlier, the figural representations were repeatedly linked with the process of apotaxis and syntaxis, renunciation of devil and acceptation of Christ, supposing that the initiates were turning from one scene to another, which would accentuate the significance of the rite.262 Following our hypothesis, that is the idea that the renunciation was performed in an adjacent structure, these scenes would again function rather as a kind of reminder of what was already experienced. However, seen within the whole ritual setting and regarding the position, as well as minor dimensions of these representations, even if we take into account their possible original polychromy or gilding, it is hardly imaginable that they particularly attracted the initiates’ attention, in case they had not been specifically alluded to by the celebrant.

As for mosaics, it has been shown that the reflective quality of golden tesserae, combined with colour surfaces of less reflective capacities – dark blue being the most apt example – produces a “reflection-absorption binary”263 effect. That means that when properly

259 Those recordings were presented by Pentcheva of her recent conference held at Fondazione Primoli in Rome (see Pentcheva 2016), and are not yet made public. 260 See p. 20 herein. 261 Pentcheva 2016. 262 Cf. p. 21 herein. 263 Franses 2003, p. 16. For the effects of mosaics, see also James 1996; 2004. For the effects of golden surfaces in general, see Janes 1998; Peers 2015. 43 illuminated, the golden areas are caused to shine and somewhat step out of the surroundings, while the blue ones, in contrast, are made even darker and seem to be moving backwards, sinking into the background. Certainly, we have to think about the original colours of the mosaics being much more vivid, because of the natural weathering of the surface that leads to a loss of the colours’ hue.264 Regarding the mosaics the initiates were confronted with within the interior of the Baptistery, the whole scheme is based on the interplay of reflective and absorptive surfaces, the contrast between golden and dark blue being the most prominent one. This dynamism of perceptual movement forward and backwards is almost ubiquitously present within the rich repetitive decorative pattern decorating the Baptistery’s walls.265

3.3.6. Consecration of water

Once the congregation was inside, the bishop first consecrated the water in the baptismal font.266 This was done first by performing an exorcism, followed by an invocation of the Trinity and praedicatio dominicae crucis, the praise of the cross, while the prayer included quotation from Matthew 28, 19: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”.267

At the time of the consecration, the censers were activated for the first time,268 introducing thus the first strong arousal of the olfactory sense by the smell of incense, which marked Christ’s presence and his divine participation in the sacrament.269 Moreover, the diffusion of the smoke, apart from stimulating the initiates’ olfaction, undoubtedly altered also the visual appearance of the space. The metal surface of swinging censers reflected the light emitted by oil lamps and candles, producing thus another element through which the surrounding decoration was animated, while at the same time being the source of “ribbons of bluish incense […], almost infinitely expanding the architectural space […] with their movement and interlacing, softening the dryness and stiffness of the lines and investing them with movement and life, as if melting them.”270

The attention of the initiates was at this point drawn towards the lower part of the interior space, where the celebrants stood surrounding the baptismal font. The walls that encircled

264 Schibille 2014, p. 39. 265 Being also the possible cause of the impressions of movement that were alluded to above; cf. chapter 2.4. herein. 266 Regarding the members of the congregation present, Ambrose mentions the presence of deacons, priest and bishop. See De mysteriis 6, 8; De sacramentis I.4, I.6, II.16. 267 Saxer 1988, pp. 343–344. In Ambrose, De sacramentis I.18 and De mysteriis 8, only the prayer and invocation is mentioned, not the exorcism. 268 Ambrose mentions the presence of the censer in De sacramentis IV.4. 269 Ashbrook Harvey 2006, p. 78. 270 Florensky 2002, p. 109. 44 them, as well as the pavement under their feet, were supposedly covered with marble.271 Let us thus now explore the qualities that such a large cohesive stone surface must have expressed. We have already mentioned the different stones used for the opus sectile filling the arches of the lower arcade.272 Regarding the exact marble used for the revetment of the walls, no traces of its original appearance remain. However, we can suppose that even such a precious kind as the white-greyish Proconnesian marble, coming from the quarries near Constantinople, and known for its striking translucent and reflective qualities, could have been used.273 The use of Proconnesian marble in Roman churches was relatively common until the fourth century274 and is attested in Ravenna’s sixth-century structures, for example the Capella Arcivescovile or the basilica of San Vitale and other foundations of Justinian.275 Regarding the fact that Ravenna was an imperial seat in the time the Orthodox Baptistery was built and redecorated, and therefore a place of foremost prominence, the possibility of use of such an exclusive material cannot be excluded.276

In Late Antiquity, following the Aristotelian idea, marbles were thought of as solidified water, as congelation of vapours, “deposits of purified earthy matter suspended in water that percolated down through the earth’s crust to deep reservoirs, where the whole brew was frozen or fired solid by earthly humors.”277 The idea of metamorphosis of water into stone would support its choice for the revetment of a baptismal hall, where the element of water was of the foremost importance. As the fifth-century poet Flavius Merobaudes captured it, speaking probably about the font of the Ravenna’s baptistery at the basilica of Santa Croce, and which could be, in our case, broadened to the whole lower part of the interior, “the jewel, once liquid itself, carries the liquid.”278

271 See p. 18–19 herein. 272 See p. 19 herein. 273 The Proconnesian marble was used for the pavement and wall panelling of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. For its perception in Late Antiquity and its specific qualities and transformations caused by changing lighting conditions, see Pentcheva 2011; Kiilerich 2012. 274 Bowersock/Brown/Grabar 2000, pp. 559–562. 275 Its effects within the basilica of San Vitale were pointed out by Ivanovici 2016. 276 To this supposition would add the fact that a direct link between the Archbishop’s chapel and the Orthodox Baptistery has been proposed by Ivanovici, the chapel’s decorative program in a sense recreating the Baptistery’s space. See Ivanovici 2016, pp. 111–123; Ivanovici 2013b. Moreover, presumably also the interior walls of the Lateran Baptistery in Rome were covered in white marble during the fifth-century remodelling of the structure by Sixtus III. See Brandt 2012. 277 Barry 2007, p. 630. This conviction have lasted in the common knowledge relatively long, for as late as in the 15th century, the Roman architect Filarete publicly boiled a piece of marble from a church of Aracoeli to disprove this claim. Cf. Ibidem, p. 631. The same idea applied also to other stones and gems. 278 “gemma vehit laticem, quae fuit ante latex.” Quoted from Barry 2007, p. 631 and n. 34. 45

The unique appearance of Proconessian marble, capable of switching between the impression of smooth firmness and transient liquidity, has been praised by the Byzantine poet Paul the Silentiary’s in his ekphrasis on the floor of Hagia Sophia:

“The peak of Proconnesus soothingly spreading over the entire pavement has gladly given its back to the life-giving ruler, the radiance of the Bosphorus softly running transmutes from the deepest darkness of swollen waters to the soft whiteness of radiant metal.”279

What would differentiate the use of marble in the Baptistery from such structures as San Vitale or Hagia Sophia is the actual presence of a great volume of flowing water, filling the baptismal font.280 The two substances – solid and liquid – would have thus been even more tightly interconnected, the one literally fusing into the other. Moreover, the marbles, as well as the flowing water, would reflect the light emitted by oil lamps and candles, interacting with the surface of windows, gilded stuccoes and mosaics, further dispersing the scintillating effect that animated the whole interior space.

Immediately after entering, the senses that had just been awaken hence received their gratification: incense diffused by the swinging censers stimulated the initiates’ smell, the words of the bishop, echoing from the marble walls, and the murmuring of water flowing in the font satisfied the hunger of the ears, while the overall radiance and colourfulness of the decorative elements illuminated by numerous light sources offered a striking spectacle for the eyes.

3.3.7. Immersion into the font

After the water was consecrated, the time had come for the major part of the ritual: the immersion into the baptismal font. For the competentes, the immersion represented a crucial event – at this point, their former life with all its sins reached its end, as a new life opened up for them: hereafter, they were neophytes, that is to say newly born. The symbolic of baptism as death and rebirth has been already alluded to several times, as it has been a common conviction throughout the Christian world. As Christ dwelt in his tomb for three days and three nights, the baptisand dies and is reborn three times, thus participating, through his own full-body experience, in the death and resurrection of Christ,

279 Quoted from Pentcheva 2011, p. 97. 280 Inheriting the technological know-how from Roman thermae (on the foundation of which a number of baptisteries actually have been erected; cf. Ristow 1998), the water in baptisteries’ fonts was usually assured circulation and relatively constant temperature. Cf. Falla Castelfranchi 2008. 46 undergoing thus a physical as well as mental rebirth.281 This assumption is based on the words of Saint Paul (Romans 6, 3–4):

“Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”

The immersion into the streaming water of the baptismal font also completed the symbolical opening of the spiritual sight. As was mentioned above herein, few days before Easter Eve, the competentes were subjected to the ritual opening of the eyes, when the priest besmeared clay over their eyelids.282 At the baptismal font, the clay was, in a symbolical manner, finally washed away, and as the blind man’s eyes were suddenly healed after he washed himself in the pool of Siloam,283 the neophyte was at once able to awake his spiritual sight by dipping into the consecrated water.284 The importance of gaining this capacity was emphasized by Ambrose as follows: “you should not trust only in the eyes of your body. Rather is that seen which is not seen, for the one is temporal, the other eternal. Rather is that seen which is not comprehended by the eyes, but is discerned by the spirit and the mind.”285

The baptisand was led by hand to the font and descended into its warm flowing water.286 Once standing inside, with the water level reaching approximately his waistline, the initiate proclaimed the Trinitarian faith, while being immersed three times into the font.287 This process is described in detailed manner in Ambrose’s De sacramentis, which at the same time gives an apt account on the connection between baptism, death and resurrection, as well as on its purificatory effects:

“You were asked: ‘Do you believe in God the Father Almighty?’, You said: ‘I do believe,’ and you dipped, that is: you were buried. Again you were asked: ‘Do you believe in our Lord Jesus Christ and in His cross?’ You said: ‘I do believe,’ and you dipped. So you were also buried together with Christ. For who is buried with Christ rises again with Christ. A third time you were asked: ‘Do you believe also in the Holy Spirit?’ You said: ‘I do believe,’ you

281Ambrose explains the connection between baptism, death and resurrection in De sacramentis (De sacramentis II.19, 23; III.2; IV.2), and alludes to it also at one point in De mysteriis (De mysteriis 11). 282 Cf. p. 35 herein. 283 John 9, 7. 284 De sacramentis I.9–10, III.11–12; De mysteriis 8, 15, 16. 285 “Non ergo solis corporis tui credas oculis: magis uidetur quod non uidetur, quia istud temporale, illud aeternum. Magis adscipitur quod oculis non conprehenditur, animo autem ac mente cernitur.” De mysteriis 15 (SC 25bis, p. 162; FC 44, p. 10). 286 Cf. n. 280 herein. 287 Supposedly, from testimony given by Theodore of Mopsuestia, the baptisand was bending himself over or crouching in order to be fully immersed: “the bishops lays his hand onto your head and pushes you down into water […] you bow down under the water, showing your consent, three times.” Cf. Wharton 1987, p. 364. 47

dipped a third time, so that the threefold confession absolved the multiple lapse of the higher life.”288

Standing in the baptismal font, surrounded by the marble surfaces and being washed by the warm stream of water, the initiate was posed directly below the representation of Apostles and Baptism of Christ in the apex of the cupola [Fig. 15]. Regarding the effects of glass tesserae noted above, the interaction of the mosaic decoration with light would animate the scene. The figures of the Apostles marching inside the upper band, whose robes are, from a great part, constituted by golden tesserae, would appear as stepping out of the blue background, approaching, in their endless circular movement, the initiate standing below them. This phenomenon would emphasize the significance of the representation. It is the moment of immersion, the baptisand, athlete of Christ, experienced a symbolical death. Defeating it, rising from the font, his gaze focused on the top of the cupola, and he was given a momentary access to the heavenly reward – to the crown that the Apostles would offer him from their hands.289 The golden background of the central part with the image of Christ’s Baptism would, in turn, cause the whole medallion to glitter, the apex of the cupola, stepping out from the adjacent dark blue background, presumably making the impression of being the very source of light.290

3.3.8. Dressing into white garments

The symbolical rebirth of the neophytes was complemented by dressing them into new, bright white garments.291 As their soul was now free of any sin, also their body should

288 “Interrogatus es: CREDIS IN DEVM PATREM OMNIPOTENTEM? Dixisti: CREDO, et mersisti, hoc est, sepultus es. Iterum interrogates es: CREDIS IN DOMINVM NOSTRUM IESVM CHRISTVM ET IN CRVCEM EIVS? Dixisti: CREDO, et mersisti. Ideo et Christo es consepultus. Qui enim Christo consepelitur cum Christo resurgit. Tertio interrogatus es: CREDIS ET IN SPIRITVM SANCTVM? Dixisti: CREDO, tertio mersisti ut multiplicem lapsum superioris aetatis absolueret trina confessio.” Ambrose, De sacramentis II.20 (SS 25bis, pp. 84, 86; FC 44, p. 286). Cf. also De mysteriis 28. 289 Cf. Wharton 1987, pp. 372–373. See also chapter 3.3.3. above. 290 As was suggested by Deichmann and later followed by Ivanovici, the gleaming of the central medallion could be considered as a source of the theophanic light, in which case the whole medallion could by associated with the body of Christ. See Deichmann 1974, p. 143; Ivanovici 2016, p. 72. A more powerful effect would be produced for example within the decoration of the Baptistery of San Giovanni in Fonte in Naples, where in the central medallion a golden chrismon on dark blue background is posed and the overall golden-dark blue contrast is preserved. On the other hand, this “reflection-absorption binary” would be distorted in case of the Arian Baptistery in Ravenna, where the Baptism of Christ, as well as the procession of Apostles, dressed in white robes, are posed on a golden background. Supposedly, when illuminated in a similar way, its decoration would probably lack the impression of motion proper to the Orthodox Baptistery and its overall dynamism would be abandoned in sake of intensifying the luminosity of the whole cupola. 291 Ambrose, De mysteriis 34. Cf. also De sacramentis IV.5–6. 48 appear immaculate, for “he whose sin is forgiven is made whiter than snow.”292 The white tunic which neophytes put on symbolized thus at once the re-acquired purity of their soul and the incorruptibility of their body.

3.3.9. Unction of the head

After exiting the font, the neophyte’s steps led to the bishop, now posed at his cathedra in the eastern niche,293 who carried out two additional procedures: anointed the baptisand’s head and, as a local specific, also washed his feet. As for the first, the bishop poured fragrant oil (myron)294 onto the head of the neophyte and let it flow down his face, while pronouncing the prayer: “God the Father Almighty, who regenerated you by water and the Holy Spirit and forgave you your sins, Himself will anoint you unto life everlasting.”295 Referring to Salomon, Ambrose explains this rite on one hand in terms of conferring wisdom and confirming the symbolical opening of the spiritual sight, as “[t]he wise have eyes in their head, but fools walk in darkness” (Ecclesiastes 2, 14),296 and on the other hand, as providing an access to the eternal life.297 Once again, the baptisand’s olfactory sense was aroused.

3.3.10. Washing of the feet

Afterwards, the neophyte was seated onto the bishop’s throne.298 Introducing the procedure by the reading of John 13, 5–11, the episode of Christ washing the feet of his apostles, the bishop himself washed the neophyte’s feet.299 Ambrose was well aware that this part of the ritual had been omitted in Rome (probably due to the high number of competentes),300 nevertheless, he insisted that this practice should be performed in Milan, as it represents a fundamental biblical lesson on humility. At the same time, it is crucial in that it washes away

292 “Super nuiem dealbatur cui culpa dimittitur.” Ambrose, De mysteriis 34 (SC 25bis, p. 174; FC 44, p. 17). Cf. 1, 18: “though your sins are like scarlet, / they shall be like snow.” 293 Presence of the episcopal throne in the Baptistery’s eastern niche was proposed by Wharton 1987, p. 364. 294 Ashbrook Harvey 2006, pp. 66–75. 295 “PATER OMNIPOTENS, QVI TE REGENERAVIT EX AQVA ET SPIRITV CONCESSITQVE TIBI PECCATA TVA, IPSE TE VGNVET IN VITAM AETAERNAM.” Ambrose, De sacramentis II.24 (SC 25bis, p. 88; FC 44, p. 287). Ambrose mentions this procedure also in De sacramentis II.24, III.1 and De mysteriis 29–30. Prefiguration of this rite is to be found in Psalm 133, 2: “It is like the precious oil on the head, running down upon the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down over the collar of his robes.” 296 Cf. Ambrose, De sacramentis III.1 (FC 44, p. 289). 297 Saxer 1988, p. 347. 298 Foletti 2009, p. 140. 299 Ambrose, De sacramentis III.4–7; De mysteriis 31–33. The washing of the feet in relation to the Orthodox Baptistery was thoroughly elaborated upon by Foletti 2009. Cf. pp. 11 and 23 herein. 300 Ambroe, De sacramentis III.5. 49 the hereditary sin, in the same manner as the immersion into the font deprives one of his own guilt.301 Supposedly, this experience must have been, once again, very powerful for the initiates: not only that they were being touched on a relatively intimate part of their body, but also, after the lengthy period of scrutinies that served to humiliate the competentes in the most effective manner, suddenly they were confronted with a situation when the bishop would have ceded them his throne and kneeled before them.

3.3.11. Perfectio: a spiritual sign

Only a last ritual act was now to be done – the spiritual seal, or, as Ambrose calls it, the perfectio, conclusion of the baptismal process.302 The neophytes received the sign of the cross on their forehead, by which they were endowed with “the spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the spirit of counsel and of fortitude, the spirit of knowledge and of piety, the spirit of holy fear.”303 Preserving thus everything they have experienced until this moment, the neophytes were now ready to leave the Baptistery and set out on their way to the nearby basilica, for the revelation of yet another mystery, that of the Eucharist.

Let us now briefly summarize what we have acknowledged on the previous pages. We have reconstructed the individual stages of the baptismal right, as well as the procedures of the preceding catechetical instruction. Introducing also the numerous variables that were participating on the transformation of the Baptistery’s interior space, we have been attempting to gain a full panorama of the ritual as it could have been performed in the fifth- century Ravenna. By clarifying in what ways the baptisands’ whole sensorium was activated, we have been aiming at reconstructing the diverse elements that affected perception of the Baptistery’s space. At the same time, we have uncovered the phenomenal character of the interior decorations and its alterations by the ritual practice, pointing out another aspect of their meaning. In the next chapter, we will approach the question of experience from another perspective. Through engaging the paradigm of situated cognition, we will look into the principles of perception, further clarifying, on one hand, the role of the visual decoration within the whole synergetic setting, and on the other hand, the significance of the initiates’ bodily engagement throughout the ritual.

301 Ambrose, De sacramentis III.7; De mysteriis 32. In both cases, the reference is made on washing away the traces of the biblical serpent’s venom (cf. Genesis 3, 1ff.). 302 Ambrose, De sacramentis III.8; De mysteriis 42. 303 “Spiritum sapientiae et intellectus, spiritum consilii atque uirtutis, spiritum cognitionis atque pietatis, spiritum sancti timoris.” Ambrose, De mysteriis 42 (Sc 25bis, p. 178; FC 44, p. 20). Cf. Isaiah 11, 2–3. 50

4. Perception and experience: looking through the body

In the previous chapter, we have seen how was the Baptistery’s interior transformed by its ritual staging. We have explored which variables had affected its perception, comprising not only of visual stimuli, but affecting also the sense of hearing, smell or touch. I have previsioned that our exploration of the Orthodox Baptistery will be based on its phenomenal character, and I hope it proved itself to be as such. The choice of this method can be explained simply: I believe that reconstructing how things appeared to the senses, that is, revealing their phenomenal character, is a way how to comprehend them. In the remaining part of this thesis, I will attempt to clarify this statement. In doing so, we will approach the initiate’s experience from yet another perspective. This time, we will look into the principles of human cognition, briefly introducing the mechanisms that determine a perceptual experience in general. As was mentioned at the beginning, this excursus will look into the question of the cultural and social embeddedness of perception from a different point of view. We will pass across a rather tricky field, however, I hope that setting off on such an untrodden path will turn up as being worth our while. For now, we will thus abandon the exquisite space of the Orthodox Baptistery and make a small digression. I have already noted that we will be basing on the notion of situated cognition. Consequently, we will now proceed into an overview of this paradigm, followed by an explanation of its relevance for the present case.

4.1. Situated cognition: principles

Situated cognition is a term that covers several paradigms which are aiming at explaining the nature and function of human mind. Its fundamental principle consists in the idea that to understand the peculiarities of cognition, it is necessary to take into account the subject as an embodied and situated agent. In other words, it claims that our cognitive processes, that is, our capacities such as perception, memory, thinking, learning, imagination and so on, are not exclusively grounded in an immaterial entity residing in our heads – which we would call “mind” – but are resulting from a dynamic interaction between our brains, bodies and the environment we inhabit.304 As such, it subverts the strict dichotomy of mind and body,

304 The paradigms of situated cognition have been so far delineated four, each of them emphasizing a slightly different aspect of the body-brain-environment interconnectedness, claiming that our cognitive processes are either (1) embodied, (2) embedded, (3) enacted, or (4) extended. The embodied view stresses the claim that cognition depends on wider beyond-the-brain aspects of subject’s body (Johnson 2007b; Gallagher/Zahavi 2008); whereas the embedded one is based on the idea that agent’s physical, social and cultural environment is crucial for the creation of cognitive processes (also the term scaffolded is being used; cf. Sterelny 2010). The idea that cognition is enacted issues from the classical phenomenological claim that a human being brings forth the world through active engagement of his body, which is situated in the environment (Varela/Thompson/Rosch 1991; Thompson 2007). Finally, the extended view goes even further by claiming that subject’s cognitive 51 present and strongly established in Western science at least since Descartes’ differentiation of res cogitans and res extensa.305 Indeed, the idea of situated cognition was developed in the 1990s as a reaction to the prevailing computational brain-centred approaches: cognitivism and connectionism.306 These accounts are explaining human mind and cognitive processes primarily as a result of highly specialized mechanisms existing in our brains. Such operations are supposed to be working on the basis of internal mental representations, which are responsible for processing the sensory inputs and are, in turn, producing behavioural output.307 Human cognition in this view thus bears considerable similarities with principles of computer processing, which has been a great inspiration for the research in early cognitive sciences. However, these accounts do not pay closer attention to the questions of human subjective experience, as they preserve and draw on the third-person perspective. Within these approaches, the mind and the world are conceived as independent from one another, with “the outside world mirrored by a representational model inside the head.”308

The computational models ascribe only marginal importance to the body beyond brain and environment for our understanding of human mind. On the other hand, the situated cognitive science regards agent’s body, apart from the brain itself, and its surroundings as

processes do not reside exclusively in the brain or body, but surpass their borders into the environment itself, using objects as their distributors or intermediaries (Clark 1997; Clark/Chalmers 1998). Even if these concepts are in many fundamental aspects overlapping, they express also a number of differences that could bear severe implications when applied to experimental research or certain philosophical issues. However, for our purposes, I believe that it will be appropriate to henceforth work with these concepts under the general notion of situated cognition, even if it brings certain simplifications. For a more detailed overview and relations between those approaches, see Rowlands 2011. 305 Descartes’ conception of different ontological fundament of mind and body led him to assume that cognition is produced by brain and soul, whereas the role of the body is limited on providing sensorial input. See Cottingham/Stoothoff/Murdoch 1988, pp. 63–64. 306 Cognitivism emerged in 1950s and it is a “computer model” of human mind and cognition influenced by behaviourism in psychology. It conceives, in brief, human brain as a kind of computer which performs cognition in the manner of information processing (input in the form of sensorial stimuli is being processed by manipulation of symbolic representations in the brain and transformed in a behavioural response). Connectionism, arising in the 1980, regards, in turn, human mind as a neural network, working on the basis of computational representation. Whereas it offered a more dynamic view of the relation between cognitive processes and the environment, it remained faithful to the idea that mind is residing exclusively in the brain. Essentially, those two approaches differ in terms of the exact nature of computation and representation – the basic principles are, however, very similar. Thomson 2007, pp. 3–10. 307 For this reason, these accounts have been aptly denominated the “classical sandwich model”: in this model, the cognition functions as the “meat” in a sandwich where the bread which surrounds it represent on one side the sensory input (perception) and on the other side the behavioural output (action). See Hurley 1998. 308 Thompson 2007, p. 10. 52 playing a causal or physically constitutive role in cognitive activity.309 Basing on phenomenology,310 it brings back the first-person perspective and the analyses of our lived experience. Within situated cognition, the world that surrounds us is regarded as a relational domain,311 which is brought forth by the agent’s autonomous activity and his interaction with the environment.312 Our nervous system does not process information in the form of some kind of internal representations, separated from reality, but creates meaning in course of our active engagement within the very reality: “as one’s action changes, so too does one’s sense of the world.”313 Cognition is an “exercise of skilful know-how in situated and embodied action.”314

4.1.1. Perception

Let us now look closer on the implications of this paradigm for the problem of perception, which is our foremost interest. Perception is, as a cognitive process which causes our perceptual experience, regarded as an active skill of the situated perceiving subject and therefore cannot be separated from our action. Put differently, the activation of our senses through the movement of our body in space, which is called a sensorimotor action, as well as characteristics of our body – senses which we are endowed or for example the fact that we are walking upright – play a crucial role for the way in which we perceive our environment and what meaning do we attach to it. “Perception is not something that happens to us, or in us. It is something we do. […] All perception is touch-like in this way: perceptual experience acquires content thanks to our possession of bodily skills. What we perceive is determined by what we do.”315 At the same time, the surroundings within which we are embedded – things, objects and other living beings that enclose us – structure our perception in that they themselves

309 For the demarcation of the (not always strictly defined) borders between computational and situated cognitive science, see Shapiro 2011. 310 It is grounded especially in the philosophy of Maurice Merleau-Ponty and his analyses of the lived body, performed especially in his Phénoménologie de la perception, issued first in 1945. For English translation, see Merleau-Ponty 1962. However, important source is also the philosophy of Edmund Husserl, Jean-Paul Sartre or Michel Henry. Its usability within cognitive science has been conditioned by the so-called “naturalization of phenomenology”, that is by an attempt to adjust its methods in such a way that would enable it to understand and interpret its findings in relation to the “hard sciences”. Cf. Thompson 2007; Gallagher/Zahavi 2008. 311 Thompson 2007, p. 13. 312 At this point, I would like to make clear that we are not falling into a trap of solipsism: accepting the phenomenological assumption of our subjective experience bringing forth the world of our perception does not mean denying the existence of the out-of-our-body world per se. It is only relevant for the way in which we perceive it. 313 Varela/Thompson/Rosch 1991, p. 164. 314 Thompson 2007, p. 13. 315 Noë 2004, p. 1. 53 offer us possibilities of action. This idea is based on James J. Gibson’s concept of affordances.316 Affordances, that is, possibilities to act, can be given by basically anything we can come across in our lived reality. For reasons of clarity, Gibson categorized sources of affordances into several classes: media, substances, surfaces and their layouts, objects, places and other living beings, which are distinct in that they interact with the observer and with one another. Thus, air as a basic medium affords one to breathe or to perceive, while the substance of water affords drinking, washing or bathing. An object that can be held in hand and leaves traces when applied to a surface (let’s say a piece of chalk or a pen), affords trace-making, that is drawing or writing. A glass wall affords seeing through but not walking through, whereas a cloth affords walking through but not seeing through.317 The things we interact with are, in this sense, being conceived as active rather than passive elements.318

4.2. Embodied experience

I would like to assure the reader that we did not get completely lost in the deep waters of mind sciences for their own sake. Before proceeding any further, let us first briefly summarize the above-mentioned principles according to which our experiencing of the world operates. On one hand, as living beings, we actively create content of our perception, that is, our perceptual experience. This is achieved by means of our bodily engagement within the world we live in. On the other hand, we have accentuated that our surroundings – things, objects and other living beings that enclose us – have, in turn, a foremost impact on what meaning do we attach to that content and how we proceed in the active creation of it.

Let’s get back on the track now, and see how this issue is relevant for our present study. Generally, the question of perception within art history has been limited to its visual aspect, which is not surprising due to the primarily visual nature of the objects we focus on.319 However, taking into account the principles of human cognition we have just introduced, it is hardly possible to conceive our visual perception per se, without considering also other

316 Gibson introduced this idea in his 1979 book Ecological Approach to Visual Perception. For most recent edition, see Gibson 2015. 317 Gibson 2015, pp. 119–135. 318 This concept has developed into a Material Engagement Theory; cf. Malafouris 2013. However, it is important to note that this idea has its parallels within other disciplines. A similar view, the so-called Actor-Network Theory (ANT), has been introduced in 1980s on the field of sociology by Latour; see Latour 1987. Furthermore, from a different perspective, it has been related to the creation and perception of art by the anthropologist Alfred Gell in his influential book Art and Agency. Cornerstones of Gell’s theory are that (1) art is an exclusive product of human creativity in that it possesses a capacity to achieve agency through technical virtuosity; (2) object of art is capable of evoking a living presence response, meaning that a beholder reacts to the object as if it would be a living being; and (3) artworks are able to evoke a shared common sense across cultures. See Gell 1998. 319 This is apparent from the very notion of the “period eye” discussed above and the tendency of art history to transform into a Bildwissenschaft. Cf. chapter 1.1.2. herein. 54 sensorial stimuli and the broader brain-body-environment framework. Indeed, as Bente Kiilerich rightly noted, “what happens in the eyes and in the brain of an attentive twentieth- century beholder may not be all that different from what happened in those of the sixth- century one,”320 to which we could only add that the twentieth-century beholder, or rather, the twenty-first-century one, does not even have to be particularly attentive to have his or her neurobiological mechanisms working in the same way as that of other human beings do. However, our perceptual experience does not entirely consist in a representation which our brain produces from an imprint of a certain part of the world on the retina, registered by our eyes. “What we perceive is determined by what we do:”321 perception is founded on our interaction with the physical things and objects we come across. It is our sensorimotor exploration of the environment – the movement of our body in space – that brings forth for us the world as we know it. It is the surrounding world that we perceive, the substances, things and objects that give us impulses according to which we create the content of our perception, that is, our perceptual experience.

Applied to the interpretation of the Orthodox Baptistery’s space in general, and the interior decoration in particular, we could say that its perception is greatly influenced by the perceiver’s bodily engagement with the environment. This means that the complex sensorimotor experience of the liturgy – moving through space in certain order and activation of diverse senses by numerous impulses (including flickering of light, the smell of incense and oil, touch of the priest, nudity, or warm water, to name just a few) – plays a constitutive role for the perception of the given space. At the same time, the space and its decorations themselves are modified by the ritual setting (lighting, smoke of incense, reverberation of sound) and in this way produce a reciprocal effect in offering the baptisand specific possibilities for action. Thus, for the engagement of our body is a constitutive aspect of our cognitive processes, in course of the liturgy, through activation of the initiates’ whole sensorium, the entire space must have been perceived in a manner very unlike to the one we have the chance to experience in its present conditions. While attempting to outline the alterations of the Baptistery’s space by its ritual setting, we have seen that the visual decoration represented only one part of the complex staging; a crucial one, but still one that cannot be – and was not meant to be – perceived on its own. In relation with all the other sensorial stimuli and effects of illumination, the decorations ought to play a different role than the one we usually ascribe to it. Instead of being the prominent bearer of intellectual significance, I believe that in the moment of baptism – which was supposedly the one and only time it was perceived in an initiate’s life – its phenomenal aspect mattered the most. In the remaining part of this thesis, we will bring this claim further, exploring its implications for the present case and, as I believe, for the study of liturgical spaces and objects in general.

320 Kiilerich 2012, p. 22. 321 Noë 2014, p. 1. Cf. p. 53, n. 315 herein. 55

4.2.1. Implications

As we have repeatedly mentioned throughout the previous pages, baptism was conceived to lead to a transformative experience. The transformation was performed on numerous levels and took a long time, and during its entire course, it was focused on engaging the whole body of the initiates. We have explored how Late Antique theologians were intentionally using a strong stimulation of all of the initiates’ bodily senses to evoke their spiritual rebirth. Late Antiquity, not encumbered by the paradigms of modern science and building upon how things appeared, acquired a relational and transformative conception of the world, where the boundaries between subject and object, mind and body, were not as strictly defined as we conceive it today.322 Also the senses were conceived as being interconnected with each other, one bearing the potency to awake another. In this way, the sense of sight was believed to be strongly linked to the sense of touch, acquiring thus a haptic quality. The eye physically engaged in the process of vision, either through sending out to the world atoms that were carrying back information about what was seen, or receiving atoms sent by things themselves.323 This capability of transformation was ascribed also to inanimate objects, believed to be able to switch from one substance to another.324 In the previous chapter, we have pointed out a conception of the material aspects of marble pervading in Late Antiquity, that is, the idea of a close connection between the lasting firmness of stone and transient liquidity of the substance of water. By reconstructing the original ritual conditions inside the Orthodox Baptistery, it was my intention to show that the marble surfaces would be animated in such a way that they actually appeared as a flowing liquid substance rather than a solid matter.

At the very beginning of this thesis, we have come across Robert Nelson’s idea about finding the remains of perceptual systems of past societies “in the cracks and margins of ‘Cartesian perspectivalism’ and the concomitant mechanistic understanding of human body.”325 I believe that by elaborating upon the principles that determine our perceptual experience, we will be now ready to glance through these “cracks and margins” and clear up the blind spots that have been obscuring our perspective. Cartesian dualism, which has been often unreflectively followed by the paradigms of modern science, locked human mind inside the skull, hence creating a fundamental and only difficultly bridgeable distance from the world we live in. As phenomenology struggled to show, the approach of modern sciences has been suffering from this supposition, which has often led to results only hardly relatable to our lived, first-hand experience. Cognitive

322 Peers 2012; 2015. 323 For the further elaboration upon these so-called extra- or intramission theories, see Peers 2012; Jensen 2013. It is not without interest that Noë in his quotation explaining principles of perception stated that “perception is touch-like.” Cf. p. 53, n. 315 herein. 324 See Peers 2012 and 2015 on animism in Late Antique and Byzantine culture. 325 Nelson 2000, p. 9. Cf. p. 7 herein. 56 science, under the paradigm of situated cognition, follows this outline. Disposing with interdisciplinary tools and technological know-how, being thus able to subject its hypotheses to experimental verification (and therefore stack up to the challenges of “hard” sciences), it brings the issue of subjective experience back into question. The burden of striving for objectivity has left its marks also on the discipline of art history, conceiving a subjective impression as a bugbear threatening any serious discussion. Certainly, denial of our own subjectivity issues from the fact that we are studying works of art of the past, whose original public, its interests and worldview are miles apart from our lived reality. Consequently, efforts have been made in different directions towards the “‘deprogramming’ of the modern viewer”326 in order to get rid of our worldview and enable the adoption of the peculiarities of visuality of previous societies. Unfortunately, no matter how hard we try, these attempts to acquire culturally and socially determined perspective seem to be a battle lost long before it had even begun, regardless how period we would like our eyes to be. Therefore, we have reconciled with the idea that “seeing through the eyes others”, thus experiencing the spaces, images and artefacts of past societies is only a “romantic dream,”327 bounded to stay unattainable, and yielded to intellectual conceptualizations.

Nonetheless, I believe that looking through the lens of situated cognition, we are in a sense revolving back to the pre-modern times, with no need of adjusting our “setting”. As we have seen, the relationship between our mind and body is in fact much more tight and interconnected to such an extent that their dichotomy itself loses its relevance. The complex interaction between our brains, bodies and environment within which we are situated actually proves the world to be a relational domain. Although relevant in basically any case, this issue is particularly apparent when dealing with architecture, for “an architectural work is not experienced as a collection of isolated visual pictures, but in its fully embodied material and spiritual presence.”328 The example of the Orthodox Baptistery, due to its link to a certain liturgical performance, only makes this claim more evident. Exploring the interior space of the Baptistery – as a pars pro toto – as a space to be experienced, we are approaching it through the lens of a different perspective. This perspective is, however, not alien to us. Certainly, we will probably never be able to fully encompass how the fifth-century initiate’s experience of the Baptistery actually felt like and what meaning did he or she attached to it. Nevertheless, talking about perception should not be limited only to a particular cultural, social and individual setting (what would be covered under the term “mindset”) of a given beholder. As we have seen, the bodily engagement of

326 Ousterhout 1998, p. 81. Cf. n. 36 above. Cf. also the discussion in chapter 1.1.2. herein. 327 Nelson 2009, p. 3. 328 Pallasmaa 2012, p. 48. 57 the initiates and their sensory activation, as well as things and objects that were present in the ritual setting, were of crucial importance for how was the space perceived. By approaching the Baptistery as a space experienced in course of an elaborate sequence of ritual performances and filled with diverse sensorial stimuli, we are actually revealing a layer of its significance that is universally comprehensible and that pervades the additional layers of individually, culturally or socially embedded meanings. Reconstructing how things appeared – that is to say, attempt to capture their perceptual experience – is, I believe, a means to comprehend them. However, we must not forget that how things appear to us is given not only by their materials and colours, but also by the effects of lightings, fragrances and sounds, our sense of proximity and distance, and even the sensation of being touched, or feeling of cold or warmth. To what extent does the importance of our bodily interaction with the world in the process of perception help us to bridge the enormous gap between the third- and first-person perspectives, is, of course, questionable. However, I believe that releasing perception from the boundaries of our minds and setting it back to the world we interact with is a way to approach the objects we are striving to get to know a little bit closer.

58

Conclusion

“Lest, perchance, someone say: ‘Is this all?’ – Yes, it is all, truly all.”329

We are now approaching the end of our exploration. The only thing that remains to be done is to summarize what have we acknowledged during its course. Starting with an encounter with the widely-known Late Antique Orthodox Baptistery, we proceeded through the more secluded corners of the baptismal rite in fifth-century Ravenna, and were led as far as to the very depths of our minds, reversing thus our direction towards the shores from which we have embarked on our journey.

As was previsioned at the beginning, our aim was to offer an alternative perspective on the Orthodox Baptistery, through an investigation of the experience which was sought to be evoked within its walls, that is, during the performance of the baptismal rite. At first, we got acquainted with the material aspect of the Baptistery, exploring its architecture and interior decoration, while pointing out certain important alterations the building went through since its foundation. Afterwards, we attempted to reconstruct, as accurately as possible, the structure of the baptismal rite in fifth-century Ravenna. The writings of Saint Ambrose have been our most prominent source in this exercise, however, we also made use of other primary sources commenting on baptism in the first centuries of Christianity. Our exploration of the Baptistery was then based on these findings, following the individual steps of the ritual, which was conceived as a transformative experience that comprised the activation of all of the initiates’ senses. Discovering also the original hierotopy of the space, we have come across the numerous elements the ritual staging was comprised of. Taking into account the illumination by elaborate lighting system, as well as the stimulation of baptisands’ olfaction through the use of fragrant oils and burning incense, or effects of murmuring water in the font and prayers of the priest that awakened initiates’ aural sense, we have uncovered how would have the interior space been perceived by the participants in course of the ritual. Not necessarily basing only on the visual stimuli, we have nevertheless, in several cases, pointed out the phenomenal aspect of the decorative program and its relation to the ritual practice, uncovering thus another layer of its meaning. Finally, we have enhanced our exploration of the baptismal experience by looking into the principles of human cognition, which revealed us fundaments determining our perceptual experience. We have followed the paradigm of situated cognition, which claims that our cognitive mechanisms are not bound to our skulls, but result from a dynamic interaction between our brains, bodies and world around us. As such, it subverts the

329 “Ne forte aliqui dixerit: Hoc est totum? Immo hoc est totum.” Ambrose, De sacramentis I.10 (SC 25bis, p. 65–66; FC 44, p. 272). 59

Cartesian idea of the separation of mind and body, proper to our common conceptualization. This point of view revealed us that perception, as well as other cognitive processes, does not work exclusively on the basis on certain mechanisms embedded in our brains, and thus cannot be described as a function or capacity of our minds. Rather, it is a dynamic process, resulting from our active bodily engagement with the world we live in. Therefore, we cannot deal with it by taking into account only visual stimuli, but we have to consider also the activation of other senses, alterations of our bodily states and our motion within space, filled with things, objects, and other living beings we interact with. Applying this paradigm to the study of the Orthodox Baptistery, we have indicated that its decorative program was not only conceived, but also perceived as a part of a very complex multimediatic setting, and given the powerful full-body and multisensory experience to which the initiates were subjected, it was presumably the images’ phenomenal aspect rather than their intellectual significance that participated in the orchestration of the transformative experience of baptism.

Drawing on the principles of human cognition, we have acknowledged that the experience of our body and our interaction with the world that surrounds us is crucial for our cognitive processes, of which perception was chosen as the most relevant example. Challenging the prevailing tendencies in art history to emphasize the insurmountability of the cultural and social embeddedness of perception, I have been striving to show that this assumption is based on an idea of disengagement of our rational mind from our sensual body. The situated cognition, on the other hand, presents us the world as a relational domain, within which the mind and body cannot be so easily differentiated. I believe that understanding of the Late Antique baptisands' bodily engagement within the given space and the numerous stimuli they were subjected to draws us closer to their perceptual experience, and should be thus regarded relevant in a similar manner as their particular individual, cultural, or social conditions.

To conclude, I believe that having access to sources that enable us to reconstruct the setting as well as procedures that accompanied the rites performed in a Late Antique baptistery is a great privilege. Exploring the monument through the conditions that determined the perceptual experience of its space – not only the gleaming surface of the golden glass tesserae, but also the effects of strongly perfumed oil being besmeared on one’s naked body or the feeling of cold marble surface under one’s feet, followed by immersion into warm flowing water – we are gradually overcoming our Cartesian perspective. By conceiving the visual decoration as only a part of the synergetic multisensory framework, we might perhaps deprive the “power of images”330 of some of its glory. However, let us find solace in spotting the first rays of light leaking through the narrow chinks of our intellectual caverns.

330 Freedberg 1989. 60

Bibliography

Abbreviations

PG: Patrologiae cursus completus, Series Graeca, Jean-Paul Migne ed., Paris 1856–1861.

PL: Patrologiae cursus completus, Series Latina, Jean-Paul Migne ed., Paris 1844–1864.

For Biblical citations, the English New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) was used.

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Catéchèses 1966: CYRILLE DE JERUSALEM, Catéchèses mystagogiques, Auguste Piédangel ed., (Sources chrétiennes 126b), Paris: Éditions du Cerf 1966.

Catechesi 1994: CIRILLO E GIOVANNI DI GERUSALEMME, Catechesi prebattesimali e mistagogiche, Gabriella Maestri, Victor Saxer trans., V. Saxer ed., Milan: Edizioni Paoline 1994.

Commentary 1933: THEODORE OF MOPSUESTIA, Commentary of Theodore of Mopsuestia on the Lord's Prayer and on the Sacraments of Baptism and the Eucharist, A. Mingana ed., (Woodbrooke Studies, VI), Cambridge 1933.

Confessiones 1953: SAINT AUGUSTINE, Confessions, Vernon J. Bourke ed. and trans., (The Fathers of the Church Series, vol. 21), Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press 1953.

De catechizandis 1950: SAINT AUGUSTINE, Christian Instruction; Admonion to Grace; The Christian Combat; Faith, Hope and Charity, John J. Gavigan ed. and trans., (The Fathers of the Church Series, vol. 2), Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press 1950.

Didascalia 1905: Didascalia et Constitutiones apostolorum, 2 vols., Franz Xaver von Funk ed., Paderborn: Schoeningh 1905.

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61

Epistles 1954: SAINT AMBROSE, Letters, 1–91, Mary Beyenka ed. and trans., (The Fathers of the Church Series, vol. 26), Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press 1954.

FC 44: SAINT AMBROSE, Theological and Dogmatic Works, Ray Joseph Deferrari ed. and trans., (The Fathers of the Church Series, vol. 44), Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press 1963.

Il battesimo 1976: BASILIO DI CESAREA, Il battesimo, Testo, traduzione, introduzione e commento, Umberto Neri ed., Bologna/Brescia 1976.

La doctrine 1978: La doctrine des douze apôtres (Didachè), Willy Rordorf, André Tuilier eds, (Sources chrétiennes 248), Paris: Cerf 1978.

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The Creedal Homilies 2004: QUODVULTDEUS OF CARTHAGE, The Creedal Homilies. Conversion in Fifth-Century North Africa, (Ancient Christian Writers 60), Thomas Macy Finn trans. and ed., New York/Mahwah: The Newman Press 2004.

The Liturgy 1967, JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, The Liturgy of Baptism in the Baptismal Instructions of St. John Chrysostom, Thomas M. Finn ed. (Studies in Christian Antiquity, 15), Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press 1967.

Traité du baptême 2002: TERTULLIEN, Traité du baptême. Le premier traité chrétien, R.-F. Refoulé, Maurice Drouzy eds, (Sources chrétiennes 35), Paris 2002 [1952].

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