Chambers Adam C

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MIAMI UNIVERSITY The Graduate School Certificate for Approving the Dissertation We hereby approve the Dissertation of Adam C. Chambers Candidate for the Degree: Doctor of Philosophy _____________________________________ Edwin Yamauchi _____________________________________ Charlotte Newman Goldy _____________________________________ Mary Kupeic Cayton _____________________________________ Steven L. Tuck ____________________________________ Graduate School Representative James C. Hanges

Transcript of Chambers Adam C

MIAMI UNIVERSITY The Graduate School

Certificate for Approving the Dissertation

We hereby approve the Dissertation of Adam C. Chambers

Candidate for the Degree: Doctor of Philosophy

_____________________________________ Edwin Yamauchi

_____________________________________ Charlotte Newman Goldy

_____________________________________ Mary Kupeic Cayton

_____________________________________ Steven L. Tuck

____________________________________ Graduate School Representative James C. Hanges

ABSTRACT

RE-CENTERING THE TEMPLE: THE ORIGIN AND EXPANSION OF THE DECAPOLIS CHURCHES, 4TH TO 7TH c. CE

by Adam C. Chambers

This study examines the emergence and expansion of church construction in the Decapolis from the fourth to the seventh centuries. The number of churches in these communities during the Byzantine period suggests a significant Christian presence in cities on the fringes of the eastern provinces. The understanding of the development of Christianity in these cities has been limited to brief analyses in the discussion of archaeological remains, and historical assessments have tended to overstate the conflict between pagans and Christians until the traditional cult were eventually defeated as a predominant theme of the fourth century. More recent research has challenged this concept, arguing that it relies on the biased accounts of Christian writers and indicating that older cults survived well into the fifth and sixth century in the eastern provinces, particularly within the countryside. While edicts issued by Constantine began the process by which traditional Roman cults were directly challenged, the Theodosian mandates created an atmosphere in the East that became intolerant of residual paganism. In the Decapolis cities, this ushered in a period that would bring about a large expansion of churches. This study argues that the churches of the Decapolis from the fourth to the seventh century were at the center of discourse between Christian authorities and non-Christians on the periphery that focused on the continuities and discontinuities with classical culture as a process of re-sacralizing religious and civic spaces within the city. They were also essential in redefining group identities of the community. Theoretical perspectives addressing sacred space and postcolonial perspectives of group identity formation provide insight into this process that reshaped these communities into Byzantine cities, reflecting the complex relationships between church and state that had developed in the postConstantinian period. While it may be suggested that the church construction in these cities was related to the Christianization of the region, often understood to mean the conversion of its inhabitants, a more significant factor was their continuity with classical society suggesting the necessity of a more nuanced understanding of the origin of the churches in these communities. The churches in the Decapolis emerged and expanded, in part, because of their capacity to fulfill certain civic functions once the province of the local temple that were necessary for the religious and social cohesion of eastern cities.

RE-CENTERING THE TEMPLE: THE ORIGIN AND EXPANSION OF THE DECAPOLIS CHURCHES, 4TH TO 7TH c. CE

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to the Faculty of Miami University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Department of History

by

Adam C. Chambers Miami University Oxford, Ohio 2009

Dissertation Director: Dr. Edwin Yamauchi

Adam C. Chambers 2009

Table of Contents

List of Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Figures. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Abbreviations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

v. vi. viii. xi.

Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Background of the Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theory and Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contribution of the Present Study. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary of Chapters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 1 Temples and Churches in the East before Constantine . . . . . . . . . . . . . Temples in Eastern Civic Life: Greek and Hellenistic Periods. . Temples in Eastern Civic Life: Roman Period. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Churches in the East: Pre-Constantinian Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 2

1 3 10 15 16 20 21 25 33

Temple to Church in Eastern Cities: 4th to 7th c. CE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Constantinian Period: Challenges to Church Construction in the East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theodosian Period: Christianization and Church Construction in the East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The Period of Justinian: Golden Age of Church Expansion in the East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 Chapter 3 Churches of the Decapolis: 5th to 7th c. CE: Central-plan Churches . . Background of the Decapolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 90

Churches of the Decapolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

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Spaces of Contested Meanings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 Central-plan and Cruciform Churches in the Decapolis. . . . . . . . . 113 Abila . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Gadara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Scythopolis-Beth Shean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 Gerasa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

Chapter 4

Churches of the Decapolis: 5th to 7th c. CE: Basilica-plan Churches . . . 147 Heliopolis-Baalbek . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 Hippos-Sussita . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Abila . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 Gadara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scythopolis-Beth Shean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gerasa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pella . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 182 187 209

Philadelphia-Amman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Other Decapolis Cities and Regional Cities . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226 229

Appendix: Synagogues in the Decapolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

239 246 249

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List of Tables

Tab. 4.1 Tab. 4.2 Tab. 4.3

General Church Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notable Features . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Furniture and Associated Structures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

105 106 107

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List of Figures

Fig. 1.1. Fig. 1.2. Fig. 1.3. Fig. 1.4. Fig. 3.1. Fig. 3.2 Fig. 3.3. Fig. 3.4. Fig. 3.5. Fig. 3.6. Fig. 3.7. Fig. 3.8. Fig. 3.9 Fig. 3.10. Fig. 3.11. Fig. 3.12. Fig. 3.13. Fig. 3.14. Fig. 3.15. Fig. 3.16. Fig. 3.17. Fig. 3.18. Fig. 3.19. Fig. 4.1. Fig. 4.2. Fig. 4.3. Fig. 4.4. Fig. 4.5. Fig. 4.6. Fig. 4.7 Fig. 4.8. Fig. 4.9. Fig. 4.10. Fig. 4.11. Fig. 4.12. Fig. 4.13. Fig. 4.14. Fig. 4.15. Fig. 4.16. Fig. 4.17. Fig. 4.18. Fig. 4.19.

Top plan of the domus ecclesiae at Dura-Europos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Isometric drawing of the domus ecclesiae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Stages (isometric) of the Church of St. Peter at Capernaum . . . . . . . . . 41 Phases of the Church of St. Peter at Capernaum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Map of the Decapolis in Byzantine period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 Antiochene civic life around the Workshops of the Martyrion. . . . . . 99 Reliquary, Qalat Seman, 5th-6th c. CE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 Water tunnel inscription mentioning the name of the city . . . . . . . . . . . 116 Proposed plan of Abila . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Top plan of Area E church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 Reliquary recovered from south room . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 Map of Gadara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 Top plan of Octagonal Church and southern chapel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Topographical map of Scythopolis-Beth Shean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Top plan of the Church of the Prophets, Apostles, and Martyrs. . . . . . . . . 131 Prophets, Apostles, and Martyrs mosaic floor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 Top plan of the Church of St. John the Baptist complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Baptistery of Church of St. John Baptist complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 Mosaics of Church of St. John Baptist featuring Nilotic motifs . . . . . . . . . 138 Theodore and his wife at the Cosmas and Damianus church at Gerasa . . . . 139 Top plan of the Mortuary Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 Topographical map of the citadel of Philadelphia-Amman . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 Top plan of the Church of St. George . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Drawing of the basilica at Baalbek . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Map of Hippos-Sussita . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 Citys center including the Northwest Church and forum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 Top plan of Northwest Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 Lower reliquary in the martyrion chapel of Northwest Church . . . . . . . . . . 158 Restored chancel screens and posts in Northwest Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Mosaics depicting a screw press in church at Umm al-Rasas . . . . . . . . . . . 159 Mosaic of press with workmen at a church in Madaba . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 A bronze polykandelon also found in the diaconicon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 Inscription commemorating donation of Hedora (Heliodora?) . . . . . . . . . 161 Inscription in the Northwest Church mentioning benefactor Petros . . . . . . . 161 Inscription for deaconess Antona (Antonia?), Northwest Church . . . . . . . . 162 Plan of the Northeast Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 Northeast Church viewed from the southeast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Top plan of the Area A church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 Statuary of Artemis in remains of Area A church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Top plan of Area D church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 Red marble colonnette found in the remains of the Area D Church . . . . . . 176 Opus sectile flooring of Area D churchs nave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176

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Fig. 4.20 Fig. 4.21. Fig. 4.22. Fig. 4.23. Fig. 4.24. Fig. 4.25. Fig. 4.26. Fig. 4.27. Fig. 4.28. Fig. 4.29. Fig. 4.30. Fig. 4.31. Fig. 4.32. Fig. 4.33. Fig. 4.34. Fig. 4.35. Fig. 4.36. Fig. 4.37. Fig. 4.38. Fig. 4.39. Fig. 4.40. Fig. 4.41. Fig. 4.42. Fig. 4.43.

Opus tessalatum flooring border pattern . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mosaics featuring various vegetal motifs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conversion of five-aisled church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fragmentary mosaic inscription from nave of five-aisled church . . . . . Top plan of the chapel G in the monastery of Kuria Maria . . . . . . . . . . Overhead view of mosaic floors of Chapel G of the monastery . . . . . . . Top plan of the Cathedral at Gerasa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-section of the Church of St. Theodore from south . . . . . . . . . . . . Southwest baptistery of Church of St. Theodore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Top plan of the Procopius Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inscription of dedication mentioning an official, Procopius . . . . . . . . . . . Top plan of the Synagogue Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jewish motifs featured in mosaics of the Synagogue Church . . . . . . . . . . . Top plan of the Church of SS. Peter and Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Northern aisle inscription of the Church of SS. Peter and Paul . . . . . . . . . Top plan of the Propylaea Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mosaic medallion of the diaconicon of the Propylaea Church . . . . . . . . . . Top plan of the Church of St. Genesius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . West Church reconstruction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phases of Civic Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Column inscription found in the church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Top plan of Cathedral at Philadelphia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cathedrals chancel from the west . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Top plan of the Church of St. Elianos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

176 176 179 181 183 184 188 191 191 193 194 195 196 198 199 203 204 207 212 215 216 220 220 224

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List of Abbreviations ADAJ AJA Anec Antiq. BA BAR BASOR Build. Chron. CIL CTh DOP ECA Eus. EH Eus. Life Eus. On. Ep. Pan. Ev. EH Geog. HTR Hist. Idyll. ILS JSAH LibAnn Mal. Chron. NEA NEAEHL NEASB NPNF 1 Annual of the Department of Antiquities, Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan American Journal of Archaeology Procopius, Anecdota, trans. H. B. Dewing, Loeb Classical Library, vol. 6, London and Cambridge 1993 Josephus, Flavius. Jewish Antiquities, trans. H. Thackeray and R. Marcus, Cambridge, Mass. and London 1998 Biblical Archaeologist Biblical Archaeological Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Procopius, Buildings, trans. H. B. Dewing, Loeb Classical Library, vol. 7, London and Cambridge 1993 George Synkellos. Chronographica, trans. W. Adler and P. Tuffin, Oxford 2002 Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum Codex Theodosianus, The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions, trans. C. Pharr, Princeton 1952 Dumbarton Oak Papers Eastern Christian Art Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History, trans. K. Lake, Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge, Mass. 2001 Eusebius of Caesarea. Life of Constantine, trans. Averil Cameron and Stuart George Hall, Oxford and New York 1999 Eusebius of Caesarea. Onomasticon, trans. R. S. Notley and Z. Safrai, Boston 2005 Epiphanius, Panarion, trans. F. Williams, New York 1987 Evagrius Scholasticus, Ecclesiastical History, trans. M. Whitby, Liverpool 2000 Ptolemy, Claudius. Geographia, trans. E. L. Stevenson, New York and Toronto 1991 Harvard Theological Review Polybius. The Histories, trans. W. R. Paton. The Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge 2000 Theocritus, Idylliums, trans. F. Fawkes, London 1767 Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians Liber annuus John Malalas, Chronographia, trans. E. Jeffrey, et al., Melbourne 1986 Near Eastern Archaeology The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavation in the Holy Land, eds. E. Stern, A. Levinson-Gilboa, and J. Aviram, Jerusalem 1993 Near East Archaeological Society Bulletin Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, first series, ed. P. Schaff, Christian Literature Publishing Company 1890; reprint, Peabody, Mass. 1994

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NPNF 2 OEANE PEFQS Pers. PG PL Plut. Mor RB Soc. HE Soz. HE SHAJ Syn. Theoc. Theod. HE Vitruv. Arch. War

Nicene and post-Nicene Fathers, second series, eds. P. Schaff and H. Wace, Christian Literature Publishing Company 1890; reprint, Peabody, Mass. 1994 The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, ed. E. M. Meyers, New York 1997. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement Procopius, Persian Wars, trans. H. B. Dewing, Loeb Classical Library, vol. 1, London and Cambridge 1993 Patrologia Graeca, Patrologiae Cursus Completus, ed. J. G. Migne. Paris 1844 Patrologia Latina, Patrologiae Cursus Completus, ed. J. G. Migne. Paris 1844 Plutarch. Moralia, trans. F. C. Babbitt, Cambridge 2005 Revue Biblique Socrates, Scholasticas. Historia Ecclesiastica, ed. J. G. Migne, PG vol. l xvii; Ecclesiastica Historia, ed. R. Hussey, New York 1992 Sozomen, Historia Ecclesiastica, ed. J. G. Migne, PG vol. l, xvii; NPNF 2, vol. 2 Grand Rapids 1982 Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan Hierocles. Synecdemus, trans. E. Honigmann, Brussels 1939 Theocritus, Greek Bucolic Poets, trans. J. M. Edmonds, Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge and London 1991. Theodoret, Historia Ecclesiastica, trans. R. M. Price, Kalamazoo, Mich. 1985 Vitruvius. De architectura, trans. I. D. Rowland, New York 2001 Josephus, Flavius. The Jewish War, trans. H. St. J. Thackeray, Loeb Classical History, Cambridge, Mass. 1997

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To Patricia

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my advisor, Edwin Yamauchi, for his encouragement and support of my research. His commitment to scholarly excellence has been a source of inspiration to me in my work dealing with the history of the church in the Decapolis region. This study was enriched by the involvement of James C. Hanges and Steven L. Tuck, both of whom provided guidance and insights that enhanced the clarity and focus of my discussion. I am also grateful to Charlotte Newman Goldy and Mary Kupeic Cayton for their contributions in the fine-tuning of the argument and the editing process. I owe much to the late W. Harold Mare, the fomer director of excavations at Abila of the Decapolis, and to Covenant Theological Seminary, for the opportunity to be involved in the excavation of the churches at Abila. Dr. Mares successor, David Chapman, continued to provide much appreciated interest and encouragement for my research. Through the Abila excavation, I have had the opportunity to work with fine scholars, including Reuben Bullard, W. W. Winter, and Bastiaan Van Elderen. Finally, I am thankful for my family and friends who have never wavered in their support of me during this project. My father, Roger Chambers, demonstrated what it meant to be an excellent scholar and a man of character and integrity. I will always be grateful for having had his example to follow. I have also been blessed by the love and support of my mother, Linda Chambers, and my sisters and brother, their families, and my wifes family, all of whom have been a source of encouragement during my years of study. Above all, this work is dedicated to my wife and best friend, Patricia, without whom this would have remained a dream.

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Introduction

In the sixth-century CE, the Byzantine writer Choricius described his visit to the Church of St. Sergius in the city of Gaza in Palestine where he was captivated by a wall mosaic that provided a backdrop for the chancel in the eastern end, the center of ritual space.1 After describing certain outstanding interior features, he turned his attention to the central apse over the altar, which was decorated with a colorful mosaic depicting a pious assembly. At the center sat the Virgin Mary and Child against a background of gold and silver mosaic surrounded by a noteworthy group of local religious and political officials. On the extreme right was the figure of Stephen, the provincial governor and founder of the church, standing over the gathering with his right hand resting on the shoulder of the bishop, the citys chief religious official, positioned next to the Virgin and the Christ-child. The image is intriguing not only as a decorative feature of the churchs interior, but also for the insight it provides into the role of church buildings for communities in the region of Palestine during the Byzantine period. The depiction of Jesus and his mother Mary at the center of the mosaic was common in church decorations as an expression of the theological perspectives of the day. The image of the provincial governor was a reminder of the complex political relationship that the church had with the state after the fourth century. He rested his hand on the local bishop who was positioned between the governor and the Savior. The glittering image had been created with gold and silver mosaics, suggesting the considerable resources invested for this embellishment of the church. The mosaic highlighted the prominently positioned governor and the bishop. Centered over the altar where attention was focused during the holy rites, it reminded celebrants of the piety of the benefactors who had provided the house of worship. The mosaic of the Church of St. Sergius at Gaza provides insight into the complex social and political meanings that had developed around church buildings in eastern cities after the reign of Theodosius I at the end of the fourth century. It represents a striking contrast to the churches founded from private residences and structures outside of the sphere of legalized

1

J. W. Crowfoot, Early Churches in Palestine (College Park, MD: McGrath, 1971, c. 1941), 112. Cf. R W. Hamilton in PEFQS, 1930, 181 ff.

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religions of the Roman Empire. Within a short span of time, churches had not only become legalized, but were decorated with such images that featured a Roman provincial official in an intimate pose with a bishop and the founder of Christianity. It highlights not only the emergence of physical structures that came to represent the Christian faith, but how these structures could, at the same time, embody the political weight of the Roman government. Constantine had set in motion the events that would lead to Christianity becoming the state religion of the empire. Eusebius would have us believe that paganism was overthrown with the Christians change of fortune that brought about the dramatic defeat of old cults. Despite this narrative, the traditional cults of the empire continued to persist especially among the elites in the government and in the provinces, and in rural regions of the empire. While some imperial churches were built primarily at certain Christian centers in the East, they were not prevalent in many smaller cities, like those of the Decapolis. After Theodosius, the pressures of edicts against residual paganism forced non-Christians to engage churches and their potential for meeting the social and religious needs that had once been the province of the local temple. This discourse, at first between Christians and non-Christians, and later among Christianized Romans brought about a natural transition of shared meanings from one religious structure to another. This study argues that the origin and expansion of the churches in the Decapolis after the fourth century can be explained in part because of their capacity to embody certain meanings and functions once held by classical temples that were necessary for the religious and social cohesion of eastern communities. In the pre-Constantinian period, temples were the central structures in most cities in the east, serving not only ritual functions for the welfare of the community, but also a variety of political and religious functions. During the Roman period, their relationship with the state deepened with the emperors role, after Augustus assumed the title of pontifex maximus, expanding the emperors role to include the chief priest of the state. When Christianity came on the scene in the first century, the followers of the new religion organized with little need or desire, for distinguishable public structures, such as temples. After Constantine, churches came under the direct sponsorship of the emperor in some cases, and came to assume many of the roles once held by temples. But still they were not built in many eastern cities From the fourth to the seventh century, the region of the Decapolis (Ten Cities), a collection of cities in the region of Palestine and the Transjordan which shared a common classical heritage, experienced the emergence of significance church construction that, at times involved the direct

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supplanting of Roman shrines. The significant number of churches and their various features suggest that these structures were central to these communities, but in many cases the quantity and quality of construction seems to be more than a matter of providing sufficient assembly space. It suggests other factors, along with the effects of Christianization, that were driving these building of churches in these communities. This study seeks to address several key questions: What led to the origin and expansion of churches in the Decapolis cities from the fifth to the seventh c. CE? Was it simply a reflection of large Christian communities, or were there other reasons for their quantity and quality? Who was building these churches and for whom? What purpose or functions did they serve in these communities? What needs were they designed to meet? Finally, how were these related to the Christianization of these communities, and more importantly, what was the nature of this Christianization?

Background of the Research This study seeks to address these questions from a perspective that has thus far been either limited or missing in scholarly analysis. In some cases, the analysis of the physical and literary evidence has been hampered by certain biases that remain resilient in the scholarship of this period. In particular, my study questions the school of thought that downplays the idea of continuity between the Greek and Roman world and Byzantine society, which has led to underestimating, or understating, the continuing presence and influence of traditional cults and their shrines in the post-Constantinian period in eastern communities. This study instead suggests that the persistence of classical religion played a major role in the limitation of church construction in the fourth century, despite the position of Christianity as the favored religion of the empire. It also seeks not only to discuss the physical remains of church buildings, but to

attempt to explain their meaning for the communities where they were constructed. Studies of Christian architecture of the Byzantine East, and of the Decapolis cities in particular, have long followed a pattern of technical discussions of the architecture and features, but rarely have engaged in analysis of their meaning in the historical context in which they emerged. This study contests a scholarly perspective that objects to the idea of continuities existing between classical society and the Christian world. Scholarship of the early Byzantine era, especially of the western empire, has often downplayed the impact of classical cults as an

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influential factor shaping society after Constantine took over control of the empire and its religious life at the beginning of the fourth century CE. Some schools of thought about traditional Roman cults in the fourth century include the perspective that assumes that classical religions as having little significance in the social scene after Constantine. Scholars favoring this approach set the expansion of Christianity against the decline of pure Roman society and religion. In this sense, the underlying, value-ladened motif ( la Edward Gibbon or Voltaire) sets in stark contrast the decline of the noble, traditions of Roman religion with the rise of Christianity (the narrow, unsophisticated usurper cult). To some extent this mindset persists in the scholarship of this period. Peter Brown in his study of the cult of the saints minimizes the connection between Roman antecedents in ritual and structure and later Christian practices.2 While John Liebeschuetz acknowledges that Christianity was Romanized, his study indicates thatthis involved essentially a rejection of the ancestral religion of Rome.3

In the history of archaeology, this perspective has manifested itself in some unfortunate ways. A significant Constantinian church that this study considers had been located in the courtyard of the largest temple in the East, the temple of Jupiter Heliopolitanus at HeliopolisBaalbek. German excavations in the late nineteenth century, particularly after the visit of the German emperor Wilhelm II in 1898, were carried out on the temple precinct under the direction of Otto Puchstein.4 Excavations, encouraged by the enthusiastic emperor, proceeded to remove Byzantine remains in order to unearth the Roman temple precinct. In the process, little was left remaining of the church or associated structures for analysis. This slight tone of disdain for Byzantine remains could be sensed even in the more scientific approach of the excavation of Gerasa by the American teams later in the early twentieth century, reflected in the limited discussion of the churches and their related structures in excavation reports despite their primary position among the physical remains.5 The most persistent elements of classical culture during the post-Constantinian period, much to chagrin of eastern bishops, were the traditional cults and their shrines. While ecclesiastical sources were apt to celebrate the victory of the Christian faith, even in the fourthPeter Brown, The Cult of Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981), 6. 3 John H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, Continuity and Change in Roman Religion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), 305. 4 Theodor Wiegand, Baalbek: Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in den Jahren 1898 bis 1905 (Berlin: Leipzig, W. de Gruyter, 1921-1925). 5 J. W. Crowfoot, "The Christian Churches" in Gerasa, City of the Decapolis, ed. Carl Kraeling (New Haven, Conn.: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1938), 171-264.2

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century, recent studies have shed light on the complexity of the cultural transitions during this period indicating that the religious traditionalists remained viable in a number of eastern cities and their vicinities. Frank R. Trombley stresses that the persistence of traditional cults in eastern provinces is reflected by the fact that despite the pressures of Theodosius and his successors to bring an end to these practices, they still were surviving in certain contexts.6 He contends that, although pressured out of municipal centers, shrines continued to be visited in rural locations. Trombley notes that missionaries and monks who sought to spread Christianity in the Greek mainland often faced fierce opposition from rural populations who remained dedicated to the local pagan temples. He writes, Greek urban religious life had strong ties to the local and rural temples. This allegiance was transferred to the basilicas as more citizens became Christian.7 His findings coincides with the research of M. Alison Frantz, who notes that at Athens, Christianity and traditional cults were known to coexist, remaining in different parts of the city, well into the fifth and early sixth century.8 This research, which highlights the persistence of traditional religions long after Christianity had became the official religion of the empire in the fourth-century CE, is useful to our study of the Decapolis region. It provides further insight into the role of traditionalist resistance, especially among the local elite and rural inhabitants, that certainly hindered the construction of churches. In the research of the period of transition between late Roman and Byzantine society, terminology such as end, fall, or rise is problematic in that it does not go far enough in recognizing the inherent complexity of social change. The concept of culture in itself is difficult to define because by its very essence it was always in flux. In speaking of pagan or Christian culture, one quickly realizes the problems not only in fixing a definition of these concepts, but also in determining where one culture ends and the other begins. Scholars recognizing these problems have sought instead to understand the changes occurring during the early Byzantine era as cultural transitions, or processes of change. Despite the enthusiastic accounts of Christians depicting the destruction of traditional Roman cults and their shrines,Frank R. Trombley, Hellenic Religion and Christianization, c. 370-529 CE. (Leiden ; New York : E.J. Brill, 1993), 1:94. 7 Frank R. Trombley, Paganism in the Greek World at the End of Antiquity: The Case of Rural Anatolia and Greece. HTR 78, no. 3, 4 (Jul.-Oct., 1985): 345. 8 M. Alison Frantz, "From Paganism to Christianity in the Temples of Athens," DOP 19 (1965) 197; J. M. Spieser, La christianisation des sanctuaires paens en Grce," in Ulf Jantzen, ed., Neue Forschungen in griechischen Heiligtiimern (Tbingen 1976): 309-10, notes that at Athens temples were occasionally reused for churches, but there was little evidence of antagonism or hostility associated with the reuse of these structures.6

5

these institutions continued to exist, changed and redefined within the context of churches and their associated practices. Vasiliki Limberis highlights this type of continuity in her discussion of traditional rituals of the Roman state religion practice by the Theodosian imperial household at Constantinople.9 This study also advocates a similar continuity with classical culture as evident in the churches reflecting the nature of the transition between the traditional religious cults and Christianity in the Decapolis cities. Another problematic element in the discussion that must be addressed is the ambiguous term pagan used to describe traditional cults of the post-Constantine period. While scholars continue to employ this term to refer to the non-Christian adherent to the old Roman cults, the word is not very accurate or adequate to encompass the nuances of the traditional Roman religionists of the period. A. D. Lee notes these limitations, stating that it implies a degree of coherence belied by the sheer diversity of the phenomena the term is supposed to encompass. 10 He notes that the term was used by Christian sources in the fourth century as a means of demeaning their opponents, as country bumpkins from paganus meaning belonging to the country or peasant. Non-Christians who continued to honor the old Roman cults and rituals referred to themselves as traditionalists or vetus religio.11 While this study will occasionally use the generic term pagan, it will typically employ more neutral and descriptive terms to designate those who remained devoted to the Roman gods during this period. This study also seeks to address a weakness in the research of church architecture that has generally limited analysis of the development of the physical structures in relationship to their historical context. Much of the research on church architecture of the Byzantine period reflects a tendency to narrow in on prominent locations in the empire providing a technical treatment of the evidence. Interest in Christian architecture was fueled by the rediscovery of biblical lands by Europeans in the eighteenth century. At this time, subterranean levels, which were discovered beneath the churches in Rome, led to an intensification of interest in early church architecture and its relation to the history of the church. While scholars including Adolf von Harnack in the early twentieth century were instrumental in research and the analysis of these remains, their efforts were hindered by the limited development of archaeological research at this9

Vasiliki Limberis, Divine Heiress: the Virgin Mary and the Creation of Christian Constantinople (London; New York: Routledge, 1994), 52ff. Cf. S. G. MacCormack, Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, 1981). 10 A. D. Lee, Traditional Religions, in The Age of Constantine, ed. N. Lenski, 14-31 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 164. 11 Ibid.

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early date.12 The uncovering of the remains in Rome kindled interest in the question of the origin and development of church building, a topic which has led to a large body of research on churches over the past century. While the range of literature on the history of churches is extensive, most of these have focused on the development of churches in the western Roman provinces, or at major Christian centers in the East. A preeminent example of this perspective of the history of churches is the work of Richard Krautheimer, who discusses the development of church building, especially in the Byzantine period from Constantine to the Early Middle Ages, describing early churches found in Rome and other prominent cities in the West.13 His research addresses some of the key architectural features of churches and their function in the state and society in late antiquity. While his work provides an important foundational understanding of church architecture by addressing its heritage in the Roman period, Krautheimers discussion comes from a perspective that tends to emphasize the primacy of western provinces in the development of church architecture.14 His study Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture provides a catalogue of prominent western churches and identifies the origins of the basilica church, the predominant style in the early Byzantine period, as evolving from the design of the early house church. In the case of specific cities in the eastern provinces, such as those in the Decapolis, the study of the churches has been limited to archaeological surveys and reports. Exploration of the Holy Land, including Palestine and the Transjordan regions, in the nineteenth century brought about the discovery of numerous churches, many of which had not been disturbed since their abandonment. Early European visitors to the cities of the Decapolis region often surveyed the sites, providing descriptions of their findings. Ulrich J. Seetzen, who traveled throughout region of Palestine, the Transjordan, and Syria in 1806, famously discovered the city of Gerasa in his ventures. 15 He was followed by others, including Gottlieb Schumacher, who provided an

12 13

White, Social, 6. This followed his earlier Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae. The Early Christian Basilicas of Rome (Iv-Ix Cent.), Monumenti di Antichit Cristiana; 2, Ser. 2. Citt del Vaticano: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, 1937, an early catalogue of Christian architecture discovered in Rome. 14 Richard Krautheimer and Slobodan Curcic, Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture, 4th ed. (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986, c. 1965), 66. 15 Ulrich J. Seetzen, Reisen durch Syrien, Palstina, Phnicien, die Transjordan-Lnder, Arabia Petraea und UnterAegypten, vol. 1, ed. F. Kruse (Olms; Auflage: Nachdr. d. Ausg. Berlin, 1854-59), vol. 1, 371; vol. 4, 190-1.

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extensive survey of these regions and produced maps identifying key sites and their remains.16 As early field archaeology developed in the first half of the twentieth century, a number of sites were excavated by pioneers in the field like William F. Albright and Nelson Glueck.17 One of the early excavations of Byzantine remains in Palestine occurred at Scythopolis-Beth Shean by the University of Pennsylvania Museum from 1921 to 1923. This expedition excavated two churches: a round church at the summit of Tel el- u n and a monastery chapel. In the Transjordan, the extensive remains of the ancient Greco-Roman city of Gerasa (modern Jerash) drew the attention of western scholars, including a joint expedition of Yale University and the British School of Archaeology directed by a number of prominent scholars, including J. W. Crowfoot, Clarence S. Fisher, and Nelson Glueck.18 This excavation, although limited in its analysis of Byzantine and Islamic levels, brought to light the vitality of the Christian communities that inhabited this region, historically identified as the Decapolis. J. W. Crowfoot led the excavation of the churches at this site and later published the results, as well as an extensive study of churches in Palestine. Excavations of the Byzantine churches were initiated at other cities of the Decapolis that were located primarily within the province of Palestina Secunda. These included the single site in the Cisjordan, Scythopolis-Beth Shean, and those of the Transjordan, including Pella (Kh. Fa il), Gadara (Umm Qais), Abila, Capitolias (Beit Ras), and Hippos-Sussita. Some of these excavations continue to the present day.19 Other studies served to catalogue the various features of these churches, such as Bellarmino Bagattis work which identified and mapped churches in Palestine.20 A similar study produced by Asher Ovadiah provided a list and description of churches throughout the region of Palestine.21 While earlier explorations of the region of the Transjordan produced such catalogues and maps of classical structures, often including Christian basilicas, more recently a

Gottlieb Schumacher, Across the Jordan: Being an Exploration and Survey of Part of Hauran and Jaulan (London: A. P. Watt, 1889). Cf. S. Merrill, East of Jordan: A Record of Travel and Observation in the Countries of Moab, Gilead, and Bashan (London and New York, 1881). 17 Nelson Glueck, Explorations in Eastern Palestine (New Haven, CT: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1934-51). 18 William F. Stinespring, The History of Excavation at Jerash, in Gerasa, City of the Decapolis, ed. C. H. Kraeling, (New Haven, Connecticut: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1938), 1-10, 19 These excavations are discussed in below. 20 Bellarmino Bagatti, Larcheologia cristiana in Palestina (Firenze, Sansoni, 1962). 21 A. Ovadiah, Corpus of the Byzantine Churches in the Holy Land, trans. from the Hebrew by Rose Kirson (Bonn: P. Hanstein, 1970).

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comprehensive study of the churches in the region has been produced by Anne Michel. 22 Her research attempts to identify and describe the known corpus of Byzantine churches located in the Transjordan. These works have been extremely useful sources of information in providing rather exhaustive lists of churches in the region, but they limit themselves to providing data with little analysis of their significance. Among the archaeological reports and surveys of the Decapolis, a few have attempted to explain the expansion of churches and their meaning for these communities during the Byzantine period. One suggestion has been that the number of churches reflects the presence of various factions of Christians, each needing its own church building.23 Following the analysis of Robert Coughenour of the archaeological remains at Umm al-Jimal, where fifteen churches were identified, John Wineland suggests that churches were built for individual clans that formed the basic social structure in the region of the Decapolis.24 The number of churches reflected the presence of multiple affluent clans who built their own churches to demonstrate their identity within the community.25 While the clan or family social structure in the eastern provinces was certainly an important factor in the expansion of churches, their involvement in constructing churches does not fully explicate the mechanisms at work within these families and their communities that led to this phenomenon. Another significant area of research in understanding the role and meaning of Christian architecture that has been, in the case of the Decapolis, missing altogether is the analysis of the architecture through the lens of theory as a means of approaching the material remains. My study will utilize several theoretical perspectives described below to explain how these structures functioned in generating sacred spatial meaning and forming communal identity. This study seeks to fill the gap in the literature of church architecture of the wider Byzantine East and that of smaller communities like the Decapolis, a body of scholarship which has been limited to the discussion of architectural features of churches, but not the interpretation of that architecture. Its focus is to use the physical remains of churches as a starting point for understanding not only the history of churches in the region, but also the complex meanings they came to embody to serve the needs of local communities.Anne Michel, Les glises d'poque Byzantine et Umayyade de Jordanie 2 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). Geoffrey R. D. King, Some Churches of the Byzantine Period in the Jordanian Hawran, Damaszener Mitteilungen 3 (1988): 35-74, cited in Wineland, 111-12. 24 Wineland, 112. See R. A. Coughenour, The Fifteen Churches of Umm al-Jimal, An Unpublished Manuscript. 25 Ibid.23 22

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Theory and Methodology While the location and physical remains of churches of eastern cities may appear to have certain self-evident meanings, these prove difficult, if not impossible, to identify with certitude. Neither literary nor archaeological remains are capable of providing unbiased glimpses or defining the true meaning of religious structures as they were perceived by ancient onlookers. Despite these limitations, certain theoretical tools emerging in the scholarly discourse over the past century allow insights into nuanced understandings of religious buildings. In particular, theories of sacred space and architecture provide some direction in speculating about the complex meanings of churches in the Decapolis cities. At the turn of the twentieth century, the study of religion was moved in some new directions by scholarship that sought to broaden the traditional boundaries of analysis of the origins and development of religious communities. Drawing from the scientific approach to religious beliefs and practices, Emile Durkheim in Elementary Forms of Religious Life laid the groundwork for understanding certain global elements of belief and ritual. He concluded that religion is essentially a social product, and therefore the space associated with its expression is also of social origin.26 One of the hallmarks of religious thought is a separation, or division, between the sacred and profane worlds.27 These categories define each other by their opposition and are not limited to personal deities, gods, or spirits, but can also be reflected in elements of the natural world, rituals, and even words and chants.28 Yet essentially the distinctions between sacred and profane are of social origin, reflecting the religious system of an individual culture. Durkheims research inspired further exploration of how these categories played out within various local contexts. Mircea Eliade expanded upon these concepts, noting that the sacred and profane were two separate worlds that distinguished and defined the other for the religious man. In The Sacred and the Profane, he moved beyond the notions of sacrality and non-sacrality in the abstract and attempted to make these more concrete through the idea of sacred space.29 Unlike the secular perspective that understands all space to be homogenous and neutral, the religious26

Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, translated by and with an introduction by Karen E. Fields (New York: Free Press, 1995, c.1915), 11, 14. 27 Ibid., 36. 28 Ibid., 37. 29 Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion, translated by Willard R. Trask. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1959), 10, echoes Durkheims view of the sacred and profane as polar opposites that define each other.

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man sees interruptions of the sacred in the form of a hierophany, or the act of manifestation of the sacred, which often is a point of interaction and communication with the divine (i.e. Jacobs vision of stairway at Bethel, Gen. 29.10-22). 30 Along with marking a break in the homogeneity of profane space, sacred space provides a means of horizontal orientation by marking the symbolic Center, or navel of the world, where the hierophany occurs and the religious man seeks to dwell.31 This center is also the axis mundi, the universal pillar that stretches vertically joins the earthly realm with that of both the underworld below, and the heavenly dwellings above.32 The sacred space then is marked as a point of junction between two worlds that becomes a symbolic world itself, or an imago mundi, an image of the universe. The architecture at the sacred Center often reflects the re-creation of the universe. For example, the Temple in Jerusalem, thought to symbolically represent the navel of the world, re-created the universe by its interior design, the outer courts representing the sea (or the lower region), the Holy Place the earth, and the Holy of Holies the heavenly dwellings.33 Later the church assimilated these same symbolic representations. Eventually replacing the private dwellings as religious centers, the temple and later church building became symbols by which the world is resanctified in every part because they were images of the cosmos, which is the work of the gods, and a houses of god themselves, thereby both represented and contained the world.34 Understanding of sacred space as distinguished from profane provides orientation for the current discussion, but it does not completely address the complexities of spatial identity. Some scholars have questioned the sharp dichotomy of the concepts of profane and sacred space as suggested by Durkheim and Eliade but indicate that the concept of sacred space is more nuanced in its meaning. Larry Shiner notes that Eliades separation of the modern, homogenous, functional space and the spiritual, heterogeneous space does not adequately address the heterogeneity found in profane space as well. He identified another category of lived space, the realm of human experience, as bridging the profane and the sacred.35 Although both profane space and sacred space do exist as polar opposites, the extreme ends of these categories are not

30 31

Ibid., 11. Ibid., 33. 32 Ibid., 36. 33 Ibid., 42, 42; cf. Josephus, Ant. Jud. 3.7.7. 34 Ibid., 58. 35 Larry E. Shiner,"Sacred Space, Profane Space, Human Space." Journal of the American Academy of Religion 40, no. 4 (1972): 429.

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very common and still fall under the concept of lived space, or human space.36 Henri Lefebvres The Production of Space argued that space is not simply inherited from nature but is socially produced and reproduced, and is indistinguishable from physical and mental space.37 The production of space entails conflictual unity of a spatial triad: the perceived space (absolute space corresponding to natural, physical, and material spatiality), the conceived space (spatial knowledge produced through mental discourse), and the directly experienced, or lived, space (between the other two poles of material and ideational).38 While finding value in Eliades conception of a sacred Center,39 Jonathan Z. Smith challenged the concept of sacred meaning being an innate quality, but instead argued that sacred space was produced space. In To Take Place, he moves away from the notion of sacred as associated with a particular rupture in space, as Eliade proposed, but suggests that spatial sacrality instead emerges out of the contexts of ritual gesture, time, and location (topos).40 Instead of a sacred space being a Center, or a substantive entity in and of itself, it is created through the acts or rituals that make a space sacred. For Smith, ritual is a mode of paying attention, and place as an essential element of ritual as it directs attention.41 For example, a temple is a segmented space designed in its most intricate features to be a lens which focuses attention on whatever is within that is separate from the space without. Sacrality was not limited to religious ritual and structures, but extended to the complex interactions occurring at all levels of society. Smith emphasizes the convergence of several elements, including ritual and location, as factors contributing to the creation of sacred space. Eliades notion of an axis mundi, a rupture of the sacred into the profane, may be viewed in conjunction with Smiths theory of emplacement as a result of the process of sacralization of space through ritual. Thomas Barrie states it in this way: Rituals serve as a means of perpetuating the connection between the earthly

Ibid., 436. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space, trans. D. Nicholson-Smith (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 1991), 235-6. 38 Ibid., 246. 39 Jonathan Z. Smith, To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual, Chicago Studies in the History of Judaism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987) 14, 15. Smith indicates that Eliades view, which borrows heavily from the Pan-Babylonian school, is too limiting to account for all religious rituals. For example, the Tijlpa people did not have buildings, or any single sacred location, so the symbolism of the cosmological world-mountain that linked heaven, earth, and underworld did not exist in Aboriginal cosmology 40 Ibid., 103. 41 Ibid., 104.37

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and divine realms, thus they need to be performed within the sacred space to be effective.42 Church buildings are made sacred by the convergence of ritual gestures, time, and location, hence the location once considered sacred may be viewed as a Center. Smith illustrates this concept with the example of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. Before the fourth century, the associations between Christian sacred locations and sacred texts had not been clearly established. This changed with the pilgrimage of Helena in the fourth century, who rediscovered of the tomb of Jesus and the True Cross. This discovery marked a transition point for Christian ritual, having been connected to the loca sancta of Palestine, Christian structures accompanied a transition from the vertical dimension of the associative to the linear dimension of narrative and temporal relations.43 The Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the most famous and important church buildings in the East, was constructed at a location that had only vaguely Christian associations. The founding of the church gave the location concrete meaning for Christians. Smith notes that through its religious associations and the rituals that developed around it, the Holy Sepulcher became a sacred space (Eliades Center). The church was generated as a sacred space, an axis mundi, for Christianity. While not privileged with the same built in advantages in meaning as Holy Sepulcher, church buildings in eastern cities also became Centers for local Christian communities by a variety of rituals of demarcation. Concepts of spatial sacrality extend also to architecture. While physical structures are limited at providing access to the concrete intentions of their builders, scholars have suggested that sacred architecture can be understood through certain hermeneutics that gives insight into religious and social meaning for the communities where they take center stage. 44 Hermeneutics, the science of interpretation of meaning for understanding textual sources was founded in the eighteenth century by scholars such as Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768-1834) as a means of approaching the study of ancient texts in response to the emergence of higher criticism.45 Martin Heidegger later rejected the objectivistic and positivistic view of unprejudiced hermeneutics, butThomas Barrie, Spiritual Path, Sacred Place: Myth, Ritual, and Meaning, in Architecture (Boston: Shambhala, 1996), 73. 43 Smith, 88. 44 Lindsay Jones, The Hermeneutics of Sacred Architecture: Experience, Interpretation, Comparison, v. 1 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2000), XXVII, rejects the notion of a one-to-one relationship between built forms and religious meaning. 45 Ibid., 5-19. Cf. Friederich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith (1830); in David E. Klemm, Hermeneutical Inquiry, 2 vols. (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986), 1:13-24.42

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instead argued that it provided insight not into being (the object), but how understanding was being.46 This concept follows a general framework, a hermeneutics of suspicion, that has served as a basis for a variety of theoretical perspectives.47 Lindsay Jones, influenced by the ideas of Hans-Georg Gadamer, favored other more promising approaches to accessing, or retrieving, certain meanings.48 He indicates that structures have a superabundance of meanings that can be accessed through understanding the succession of ritual-architectural events that reveal what is really significant, the human experience of architecture. The locus of meaning resides neither in the building itself (a physical object) nor in the mind of the beholder (a human subject), but rather in the negotiation or the interactive relation that subsumes both building and beholderin the ritual-architectural event in which buildings and human participants alike are involved.49 The focus is not to interpret the meaning of buildings, which is never motionless or fixed, but to consider the events or occasions as a game play, or conversations, between worshipers and the structure.50 This idea coincides with Smiths understanding of sacrality as related gesture and ritual. Space is not only created through location and ritual, but it can also be generated through the contestation of meaning between the Center and periphery. This study seeks to address not only how sacred space is created and perpetuated, but also its relationship to identity formation. In particular, it seeks to explore the ways that churches in the Decapolis were central players in the process by which the Christianization of eastern cities was accomplished, as spaces of exchange and interaction between the centered and the non-centered on the fringes of Byzantine society. Specific postcolonial theoretical perspectives provide insight for understanding the process of group identity formation that was occurring in these communities. In his influential work Orientalism, Edward Said brought to the forefront important questions about the relationships between power and perspective, particularly through the examination of how European intellectual constructs that distinguished between the West (us) and the Orient

Ibid. 9. Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie, Edward Robinson (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000). 47 Some important figures favoring this perspective were Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud, Friedrich Nietzsche, and more recently, Jacques Derrida and Michael Foucault. Cf. Jones, 18. 48 Hans-Georg Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode: Truth and Method (London; New York : Continuum, 2004). 49 Jones, 41. 50 Ibid., 47-8.

4646

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(Others).51 While his discussion addresses issues more specific to the context of modern academic and cultural trends, his insights about identity formation are particularly useful for this study.52 Said indicates that the contest of meaning between those at the center and those on the

periphery is both a producer and a by-product of religious and social identity. The construction of identityfor identity, whether of Orient or Occident, France or Britain, while obviously a repository of distinct collective experiences, is finally a construction in my opinioninvolves the construction of opposites and others whose actuality is always subject to the continuous interpretation and re-interpretation of their differences from us. Each age and society recreates its Others. Far from a static thing then, identity of self or of other is a much worked-over historical, social, intellectual, and political process that takes place as a contest involving individuals and institutions m all societiesIn short, the construction of identity is bound up with the disposition of power and powerlessness in each society, and is therefore anything but mere academic woolgathering. While the interactions between the binaries he puts forth are more complex than he indicates, involving compromise and exchange, Saids conception of identity formation through opposition and discourse provides a means of further understanding the process of Christianization in the Decapolis. 53 Initially this process involved the generation of a Christian identity initially through the interaction and exchange between the center (Christians), including their spaces as symbols of sacrality and power, and the others (pagans), later the discourse continued between the centered and non-centered amongst Christians with regards to their relationship with Roman identity.

Contribution of the Present Study This study seeks to address the question of why church construction became a priority for the communities of the Decapolis region, leading to an extensive number of structures from the beginning of the fifth-century through the seventh-century CE, by considering the textual and archaeological evidence through theory to understand the meaning of churches for smaller cities51 52

Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1994), 40. Ibid., 3. Saids addressing more specifically the disenfranchisement of non-European, colonized societies through the control of discourse by Western culture. While the complex modern binaries he addresses do not correspond to exactly to the context of the ancient Byzantine East, the general binary of center and fringe provide enough theoretical traction for our purposes. 53 Hami Bhabha, Location of Culture (London; New York: Routledge, 1994), 38-39. Bhabha indicates that the meaning of culture is located in the in-between the hegemonic command of colonial authority and the silent repression of native traditions.

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in the eastern provinces with classical cultural legacies. I suggest that at the end of fourthcentury, when support of traditional Roman cults was severely undermined, the role of church buildings intensified in the eastern provinces by physically and symbolically replacing former pagan sacred spaces with their complex political, religious, and social associations, thereby appropriating, in varying degrees, the cultural values of Greco-Roman public and religious structures. This work expands upon other studies of the Decapolis churches that have largely been technical in nature focusing on remains recovered from excavation, while not giving as much attention to the meaning of these structures for those living in these cities. In the body of historical research of churches, attention has been given primarily to prominent churches in western cities or those at key centers in the east, like Constantinople, Antioch, and Jerusalem. The following study instead focuses on less prominent cities in the region of the Decapolis, on the periphery of the Byzantine world, bringing together textual and archaeological evidence to offer historical discussion of the origin of their churches. It also seeks to contribute to the on-going discussion of the church building as a complex space embodying various meanings for the Christian communities during a crucial period of transition. While employing archaeological data, this study does not attempt an exhaustive technical discussion of the material remains of churches in the region, which would be redundant,54 nor does it seek to provide a comprehensive analysis of all textual evidence dealing with churches in the Roman East, but rather it seeks to approach a specific set of questions by using a sampling of pertinent material and textual evidence. This study hopes to shed some light on the expansion of church construction after the fifth century in the Decapolis, seeking to understand the role of these structures in the Christianization of the region, an area of analysis that has been lagging behind the archaeological surveys and reports. While this discussion is certain to produce more questions than answers, ideally I hope that it serves as a catalyst for further inquiries and analysis of the meaning of churches as sacred spaces in the larger context of the ancient world.

Summary of Chapters The first chapter considers the role of temples in the Greco-Roman society and the development of church building in the eastern provinces during the Roman period. Temples54

Cf. Michel.

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were central structures in the Greek polis serving as physical expressions of civic and religious piety. With the spread of Hellenic culture in the lands of the East, beginning with the Macedonian conquests in the fourth-century BCE, these structures became common features in cities of the region. Under the Romans, who appropriated much of Greek culture, temples remained fixtures of many cities central to the urban landscape. As cities were re-founded as Greco-Roman colonies in the eastern provinces, such as those of the Decapolis, they were equipped with temples that reflected both Hellenic and indigenous cultural influence. The rituals of the temple and the state eventually became blended following the Augustan Age, which saw the introduction of emperor worship and which further heightened the social and religious meaning of temples. In contrast to the centrality and high-profile of Roman temples, Christian churches emerged in communities that emphasized meeting in private venues. The Christian movement developed as a minor movement from the land of Palestine but quickly expanded throughout the empire and was eventually seen as a threat to the traditional Roman cults. Although it is likely that the Christians met in a variety of spaces in the first few centuries, archaeological remains indicate that until the third-century the most common places for the assembly were private residences adapted for the needs of individual congregations. This practice was different from the public nature of traditional Roman cults and Jewish religious communities, which typically met in temples and other public structures. Even after the thirdcentury, when designated church buildings began to emerge, private residences, usually of wealthy members, continued to serve as the primary location for Christians to gather for the reading of scriptures, prayer, and the celebration of the Eucharist. This section will trace the development of temples in the eastern cities and their role in the civic life of these communities. This overview of traditional temples is followed by a discussion of the early history of churches during the Roman period. The section concludes with the discussion the Diocletian period at the end of the third-century and the status of church buildings at the time before the rule of Constantine. The aim of this discussion is to demonstrate the distinct differences in the view of

religious structures held by religious traditionalists and Christians. The second chapter considers the development of church construction in eastern cities beginning with Constantine and continuing through the seventh-century. While the exact process and timing of Constantines conversion is uncertain, the defeat of Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge in 312 marked a dramatic turn in the emperors favor toward the Christian faith,

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setting the course that would transform Roman society.55 Fresh from a final period of harsh persecution under Diocletian, which involved the destruction of churches, Christians welcomed the changes under Constantine that included bishops and church officials being given a role in the administration of the empire and imperial sponsorship of church buildings. This section discusses the period of the fourth-century as a time of some church construction particularly at larger centers in the East, and also considers more closely some of the challenges to the spread of churches in many locations, particularly the conflicts within the church and the persistence of paganism outside the church. It then analyzes the impact of the Theodosian edicts at the end of the century, which was crucial for the Christianization of eastern cities by pressuring remaining shrines and cults out of public view. This process encouraged the adoption of church buildings as the primary religious structures of the city, appropriating the position of temples both physically and symbolically. It concludes with a discussion of the height of church construction during the period from the fifth to the sixth century CE. The Muslim conquest of the region in the seventh-century introduced a period of general decline and abandonment of churches in the region. This period of dramatic change in the political and religious makeup of the empire brought about realities that would transform how church buildings were viewed in eastern cities. Having analyzed the broader context of churches in the eastern provinces, the third chapter looks more closely at churches in the region of the Decapolis, particularly focusing on those having central-plan and cruciform designs. After a brief discussion of the background of the region and an overview of the archaeological research, the chapter will focus on the analysis of the physical remains of central-plan and cruciform churches from the period of the fourth to the seventh-century CE. These churches, which are less common among the archaeological remains, were often designed to highlight an object of special religious significance, whether it was a tomb, a relic, or an altar. Central-plan churches in particular had a design distinct from the basilica-plan church, which was organized along a longitudinal axis leading to a chancel in the eastern end. Central-plan and cruciform churches had a pattern that emphasized a central space that designated a point of sacrality in the city and the region. But this also fostered their role as political structures, as spaces of competition between various Christian groups, as well as withEus. Life 1.26-32, 37, famously attributes this conversion to a miraculous vision which led the emperor to mark the shields with a chi-rho monogram, symbolizng the Christian faith. Hartmut Leppin, Old Religions Transformed: Religions and Religious Policy from Decius to Constantine, in A Companion to Roman Religion, ed. Jrg Rpke, 104 (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2007), notes that while the story fits the typical panegyric of the period, the emperors favor of Christianity does become clear after this victory in 312.55

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non-Christians, in the community. This chapter will consider the physical remains of these churches in light of certain theoretical frameworks to attempt to understand the process by which their role and function came to embody those of the traditional temples and shrines. The fourth chapter will look at the more common basilica-plan churches in the Decapolis cities. These churches which were fashioned in the pattern of the traditional Roman basilica, a common civic structure imbued with complex social and political meaning in the Roman city. After Constantine, the basilica was adopted for the construction of churches, eventually becoming the predominant design for churches in the Byzantine world. The chapter will consider the remains of basilicas in the Decapolis cities in order to gain some insight into the role these structures played in the defining Christian community and the non-Christians. The intent of this section is to analyze the archaeological data related to the basilicas in light of spatial and social theory in order to shed light, or at least provoke further query, on how these structures functioned as sacred and socio-political spaces in eastern cities. These chapters are not intended to be a comprehensive technical discussion of the physical remains of churches, which are readily available. Instead the discussion of the physical remains of church buildings focuses on the way these religious structures came to have certain continuities and discontinuities with classical religious structures that had once dominated the city. The image greeting Choricius in Gaza featuring a provincial official and bishop in the company of the divine suggests the complex interaction of political and religious functions that churches came to embody in the Byzantine period. It is this interaction between Christianity and its classical past that provides a means to understand the expansion of churches in the cities of the Decapolis. The conversations that were generated amongst the inhabitants of these cities about the meaning and function of church buildings brought about the re-centering of the classical world with the development of new definitions of sacred space and communal identity that were distinctly Byzantine.

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Chapter 1

Temples and Churches in the East before Constantine Churches built in the Decapolis in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire did not emerge in a cultural vacuum but in a world that had long been dominated by a variety of local societies. While the region had been subjected to Greek cultural influence in the fourth century BCE, most of the Decapolis cities would flourish in the Roman period. While reflecting elements of Greek and Roman society in the eastern frontier, they were in reality an amalgamation of Greek, Roman, and local indigenous cultural traditions creating a syncretistic form of cultural expression. After the death of his father, Philip II in 336 BCE, the Macedonian ruler Alexander the Great initiated a military campaign to subdue the Greek mainland and then conquered much of the Near East, including Asia Minor, Syria, Egypt, and Mesopotamia, reaching as far as the Indus River Valley. As a student of Aristotle and a true philhellene, Alexander saw his mission in some degree as spreading Hellenism to the rest of the world. Various cities were established in the east with this goal in mind, including the prominent cities of Antioch in Syria and Alexandria in Egypt, both of which eventually became the capitals of the Seleucid and Ptolemaic kingdoms respectively. In the region of Palestine and the Transjordan, a number of cities during the Roman period, including most of the cities in the Decapolis region, actively sought to identify themselves with Roman society.56 The Romans established control over the region with the campaign of Pompey from 64 to 63 BCE. Having conquered the Mediterranean world, Romans considered themselves the successors and inheritors of Greek culture, especially as reflected in the adoption of certain social and religious institutions. These attitudes were passed along to the local rulers, administrative officials, and leading families in eastern cities.57 Local elites, educated in the finer points of Hellenic culture, adopted certain aspects of the traditional Greek polis, although always identifying themselves primarily as Roman cities.58 The polis-likeDavid F. Graf, Hellenisation and the Decapolis. The Decapolis: ARAM Third International Conference, 28-30 September 1992, University of Oxford, England, vol. 4 (Oxford, England: ARAM Society of Syro-Mesopotamian Studies, 1992), 34, notes that these cities were not ever truly poleis in the classical sense. 57 Ibid., 27. 58 The Decapolis was not technically a league of cities in the fashion of the older Delian League of the Aegean, but Decapolis cities were probably allowed some independence under their Hellenistic and Roman rulers.56

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association was fostered by the limited independence granted to the Decapolis cities by the Romans, which included limited allowances for the minting of coins. Among the practices passed along from Hellenic society was the private patronage of public religious festivals. Wealthy families communicated social standing through sponsoring construction projects, especially temples, for the public benefit. 59 These structures were political and religious institutions which communicated loyalty to the state and expressed the piety of their donors. The Emperor Augustus was a model benefactor who recognized the opportunity to accomplish both religious and political objectives through the sponsorship of temples in prominent locations in the city of Rome, while further enhancing his own image as a divinely appointed ruler.60 In the centuries leading up to the time of Constantine, patronage for the construction of temples continued to be practiced among wealthy Romans.61 The lack of dedicated physical structures did little to hinder the expansion of the Christian movement in the early centuries. In this period, Christians thought little about buildings or temples, but used what spaces were available to them under the circumstances. This fit within their theological framework which understood the church (ekklesia) not as a physical structure, but as the community of believers.62 It was several centuries before churches would come to be identified as physical places of worship.

Temples in Eastern Civic Life: Greek and Hellenistic Periods Temples were an intricate part of Hellenic society from its earliest history. Shrines dedicated to the gods date back to the Late Bronze Age Greece (1550-1100 BCE).63 Later temples were built throughout the Aegean reflecting the role of the gods in the daily lives of

A. R. Hands, Charities and Social Aid in Greece and Rome (London: Thames and Hudson, 1968), 13, 24, 26, indicates that civic benefaction, which was often manifested in physical structures, was expected of the wealthy as an important factor in maintaining social relations. 60 John Carter, Civic and Other Buildings in Roman Public Buildings, in Roman Public Buildings, ed. Ian Barton (Exeter, Great Britain: University of Exeter, 1995), 76, notes that Augustus claims have restored 83 temples of the gods (templa deum) in his Res Gestae. 61 Richard P. Saller, Personal Patronage Under the Early Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982). 5. The dependence of subordinates on the generosity of the wealthy patron that developed in the republican period remained a central factor in benefaction in the imperial period. 62 See below for discussion of New Testament references. 63 John Pedley. Sanctuaries and the Sacred in the Ancient Greek World (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 23. Cf. E. Yamauchi, Homer and Archaeology, in The Future of Biblical Archaeology, eds. J. K. Hoffmeier, A. Millard (Grand Rapids; Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2004), 79, notes that archaeological discoveries have confirmed that temples were not Homeric anachronisms, but existed well before the Greek Dark Ages.

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Greeks.64 For the Greeks, every aspect of society was infused with religious meaning, including politics and civic activity. At the center of traditional Roman religion was the worship and veneration of the gods, in part to avert or minimize disaster which might occur either from their anger or their neglect.65 The temple spaces were thought to have progressive levels of sacrality from the temple precinct (temenos), the temple (naos) to the gods seat (hedos).66 Although the presence of a temple was not essential for the performance of sacrificial rituals, which normally took place outdoors, it was thought to be the dwelling place of the patron gods.67 The temple was the earthly abode of the gods, housing a physical image of the deity, usually a statue of bronze or marble, along with valuable gifts and donations made to the god. As an offering itself, the temple was a costly addition to the temenos and a matter of pride and status for the polis.68 Temples varied in shape and size, but generally shared certain features, such as the propylaion, the gateway that marked the transition point from the profane to the sacred, and the altar located in the eastern end.69 Another distinctive feature of Greek temples were the columns which represented a permeable boundary between sacred and profane space.70 Ritual purification was usually required for entrance into the sanctuary. At Delphi, a processional path, or Sacred Way, led from the sanctuary up to the temple that was lined with monuments as spoils of battle dedicated to the god Pythian Apollo.71 While certain rituals took place in the open-air precinct of the temenos, others were held within the temple itself, including consultations with the oracle and the offering of certain sacrifices. Temple complexes in Hellenic society were thought to have special significance as the places where the spiritual world intersected with physical world. They offered worshipers the opportunity to benefit from divine interaction to help with everything from public business and political matters to the private issues, such as sexual and reproductive problems. Certain temples

Richard A. Tomlinson, Greek and Roman Architecture (London: British Museum Press, 1995), 13. Robin L. Fox, Pagans and Christians (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1986), 33. 66 Walter Burkert, The Meaning of Function of the Temple in Classical Greece, in Temple in Society, ed. Michael V. Fox, 27-48 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1988), 35. 67 Ibid., 36. The main rituals, which included prayer (euchai), sacrifice (thysiai), and the setting up of votives (anathemata), did not require the temple to be performed. 68 Ibid., 21. 69 Pedley, 58-62. 70 Burkert, 35, notes that what columns in fact do is to provide permeable boundaries: you are invited, even attracted to pass through the interstice, but there is an unmistakable distinction between outside and inside. 71 Hugh Bowden, Classical Athens and the Delphic Oracle (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 19.65

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were associated with supernatural healing. Individuals suffering from a variety of ailments would make pilgrimages to temples to seek divine aid. The sick, or their close-ones, could visit the shrine of Asclepius, the god of healing, at Epidauros and on the island of Kos, to seek divine aid.72 After performing certain rituals and sacrifices, the person would then sleep within the temple in hope of receiving a divine message in the form of a dream. Temples offered hope of the gods direct intervention into human affairs to meet various needs, such as the protection of life, advice with problems, the promise of military victory, productive marriages and crops, and for worshippers to give thanks for blessings received. The oracle at the temple of Delphi was famous for its divine messages, delivered by the Pythia, a priestess or prophetess.73 Gifts were often offered as thank offerings to the gods for answered prayers.74 Ephesus.75 Central to the life of the polis, temples were often located in or near the city.76 As houses of the gods, temples were not designed to facilitate the assembly of worshipers, but associated rooms, however, were used for various gatherings and festivals. 77 Special banquet halls (leschai) were added to major sanctuaries, providing an opportunity for members of the community to fellowship with each other and the gods.78 Sacral activities included divination, sacrifice, and the offering of prayers and hymns of praise. Temples were sometimes built over places believed to have some magical potency, usually by association with some supernatural event or an epiphany, as in the case of the Erechtheion on the Acropolis in Athens, which was placed over a gash in the earth created by Poseidons trident.79 Many were located in the agora, or at a high place that overlooked the city, such as the acropolis. An elevated location would beAn key treatment of the cult of Asclepius is Emma J. and Ludwig Edelstein, Asclepius: A Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies (Baltimore: The John Hopkins Press, 1945). More recently the study of the cult was addressed by a medical professional. Gerald D. Hart, Asclepius the God of Medicine, ed. M. Forrest (London: The Royal Society of Medicine, 1999), 196, notes the popularity of the cult persisted well into the third century, so that churches were positioned over former Asclepieia as a means of Christianizing the sites. 73 Bowden, 15-21. 74 Ibid., 10. 75 Tony Spawforth, The Complete Greek Temples (London: Thames and Hudson, 2006), 20. 76 Burkert, 42, notes the three favorite sites for temples included the height (akra), the center (agora), and the marginal zones near the city. 77 Vincent Scully, The Earth, the Temple, and the Gods: Greek Sacred Architecture (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 1962), 1, 2. He notes that the local landscape was an essential component of the temples design and meaning. 78 Burket, 37. 79 Pedley, 49.72

The sanctity of temples was

enhanced by the display of donated objects and sacred images as in the case of the temple at

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favored because it provided a religious focal point for the community, it was more secure for housing costly goods, but most significantly, it was closer to the heavens, as the gods were thought to prefer higher locales for their dwellings.80 The location was made sacred through the presence of the temple, so that successive shrines would often be erected in the same spot, as in the case of the Parthenon which in its present state is thought to be the third one built at that location.81 For Greeks who recognized the activity of the gods in every aspect of life, the temple complex was a place where the religious, political, and social worlds came together.82 The inviolable sacrality of its interior spaces were used for asylum for those seeking refuge or protection, especially involving political matters.83 Due to the prominent role of the temple in the life of Greek community, its sponsorship and care was a matter of civic pride not only for the polis, but also for those who provided the resources for its construction and upkeep. Temples were closely tied to the very structure of the polis being constructed under the supervision of local authorities, as was the Parthenon and related structures in Athens.84 Individuals, such as tyrants, were involved with temple sponsorship as a means of identifying with the city-state.85 In Classical Greece, the sponsorship of public needs, such as choruses for the theater, naval ships, and various public structures, was not only the responsibility of wealthy citizens or families, but also an opportunity for them to acquire status and political advantages.86 This tradition based on the Greek concept of euergeia involved competition between wealthy families in showing good for their community.87 Temple benefaction was a way for the affluent to demonstrate their position and piety. This practice fostered the confluence of religious, political, and social meaning within the temple complex, which became a persistent feature that was passed along to Roman society. The expansion of Greek cultural influence in the East, especially with the campaign of Alexander the Great, manifested itself in various aspects of eastern society including physical

Ibid., 48-49. Ibid., 50. 82 Ibid., 11. 83 Burket, 35. 84 Ibid., 40. 85 Ibid. 86 Burkert, 42, notes that, while temples were political in nature, for the classical city-state their presence actually reflected a rejection of monarchy as they superceded the significance of any other structure including palaces and monumental tombs. 87 Peter Brown, The World of Late Antiquity: From Marcus Aurelius to Muhammad (London: Thames and Hudson, 1971), 43-4.81

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structures, like temples.88

The Macedonians campaigns established contact and trade between

the Mediterranean and the rich lands of the East, which was aided by the spread of a common form of Greek language (koine). Certain eastern cities were influenced with an influx of Hellenized populations during this period.89 Antioch in Syria and Alexandria in Egypt became important cosmopolitan centers acquiring considerable wealth and status through their advantageous positions on the major trade networks that spanned the region. They were able to build and expand their civic structures patterned on the Greek polis. Gymnasia, baths, agorai, theaters, and temples, became common features at larger cities of the East. At Miletos in Asia Minor the agora became the focal point of the city with structures like temples being built up around them.90 The construction of temples, along with other civic structures, was a way for the eastern city to lay claim to Greek identity. Temple precincts were distinctive Hellenic features of these cities that embodied religious and social significance for these cities, although they played different roles than in classical Greek city-states.91 Colonnaded