Monks, dinars and date palms: hagiographicalproduction and the expansion of monasticinstitutions in the early Islamic Persian Gulf

Der Weg in die Wüste war der radikalste dichterischeAkt…

Peter Sloterdijk, Weltfremdheit

In the History of Mar Yonan, a hagiographical workcomposed in the late seventh or early eighth century, theleader of a monastery in the Persian Gulf related a fantasticjourney (Bedjan 1890: 466–525; Guidi 1892: 750–756).While conversing with the anchorite Mar Yonan, ‘as washis custom’, the holy man and the abbot were inspired tovisit another solitary, Rabban Philon, who dwelt on anearby island (Bedjan 1890: 502). The abbot preparedfoodstuffs for the ten-day journey, but the holy manadvised him to leave the supplies in the monastery. As theyset out, they began to recite the psalter. Within moments,the disoriented abbot realised that, thanks to Mar Yonan’sintervention, they were among mountains some 10farsakhs (about 50 km) away and were travelling at asupernatural speed. They soon caught sight of ‘theradiance (nuhra) of the soul of Rabban Philon, whoserays gleamed’ across the sea (1890: 503–504). When theyreached the shore, a vehicle emerged from the sea toconvey them to Rabban Philon’s island:

‘Something came out of the sea that resembled alarge house, but it was a crab. It seized us in thehands and raised the two of us upon it. Then itentered the sea and brought us to a certain islandwhere Aba Philon met us... [Rabban Philon] sat withus upon the crab until it brought us to his cave... Thecrab stood in its place without moving until RabbanPhilon commanded it, “Go to your feeding ground.”’(1890: 504)

Such tales of journeys among wonder-working monkswho had achieved harmony with the wilderness wereubiquitous in late antiquity (Dietz 2005). The History ofMar Yonan sought to embed the landscape surrounding hismonastery, on an island in the Persian Gulf, within ahistory of ascetic triumph and thaumaturgy no lessdistinguished than that of the Egyptian tradition so wellknown both to the author and to historians of asceticism inlate antiquity. Mar Yonan performed the roles of a lateantique holy man in the distinctive environment of thePersian Gulf. He healed men who had fallen from datepalms (Bedjan 1890: 497–498). He was delivered grapesby a raven in a land where such fruits were unknown(1890: 488). He resuscitated the son of a pearl merchant

Recent archaeological studies have documented an expansion of monastic institutionsin the Persian Gulf after the Islamic conquest, between the middle of the seventh andthe end of the eighth centuries. Although the literary sources have often been invokedto support an earlier dating for the diffusion of coenobitic monasticism in the region,our principal source for the phenomenon — the History of Mar Yonan, hithertomisdated to the fourth century — confirms recent archaeologically informedinterpretations. The narrative, moreover, provides an insight into the social andeconomic structures of monasticism in the seventh- and eighth-century Persian Gulf aswell as the ideological conflicts that attended the emergence of those structures.

Keywords: Christianity, monasticism, trade, Persian Gulf, late antiquity, earlyIslam, Syriac

Richard PayneResearch Fellow, Trinity College,University of Cambridge,Cambridge, CB2 1TQ, UKAssistant Professor, Departmentof History, Mount HolyokeCollege, 50 College Street, SouthHadley, MA 01075, USA

e-mail: rep48@cam.ac.uk, rpayne@mtholyoke.edu

Arab. arch. epig. 2011: 22: 97–111 (2011)Printed in Singapore. All rights reserved

97

(1890: 494–495). He island-hopped on the back of a crab.The History of Mar Yonan reveals the adaptation of theliterary model of the Mediterranean holy man to theexigencies of monastic life in the early Islamic PersianGulf.

Among the remarkable advances in the archaeology ofthe late antique Near East in recent decades has been theunveiling of a monastic world only dimly known fromliterary sources. In 1960, Ghirshman first published a tersereport of the French excavations of the island of Kharg, inthe north-eastern corner of the Persian Gulf off the coast ofFars, but it was not until 2003 that Steve published adetailed discussion of the site (Ghirshman 1960; Steve2003). The monastery excavated at Kharg was a surpris-ingly capacious coenobitic institution consisting ofseventy cells around a courtyard and church, as well assatellite settlements, which will be discussed below. Thechurch was richly decorated with stucco reliefs akin tothose known from churches in Seleucia-Ctesiphon, south-ern Mesopotamia, and elsewhere in the Persian Gulf(Hauser 2007; Cassis 2002). To the south, off the coast ofthe modern United Arab Emirates, King has published areport on the partial excavation of a monastery on theisland of Sīr Banī Yās (King 1997; Elders 2001).Somewhat more modest than the coenobium at Kharg,the excavated north-eastern quadrant of the structure hasyielded eight cells, suggesting a total of approximatelythirty–forty (King 1997: 224–225). Like the monastery ofKharg, Sīr Banī Yās was accompanied by satellitesettlements unambiguously associated with the coenobiumand a monastic church similarly adorned with stucco. Themonastic institutions of the Persian Gulf are the bestdocumented archaeologically in the late antique Iranianworld, the finest physical examples of a coenobiticmovement that originated in northern Mesopotamia andinspired imitators as far afield as the Tarim Basin. Inaddition to these two coenobitic institutions, archaeolo-gists have uncovered churches at Failaka in Kuwait aswell as Christian monuments at Thaj, Jabal Berri andother sites in eastern Arabia (Finster 1996: 303–313;Calvet 1998; Langfeldt 1994; Potts 1994). These sites donot necessarily imply the ongoing expansion of Chris-tianity in the Persian Gulf region, but they do indicate thededication of economic resources to the construction ofecclesiastical institutions, whether churches or monas-teries. The impressive ruins of Kharg and Sīr Banī Yās,in particular, testify to a substantial investment ofeconomic and cultural capital in monastic institutions inthe early Islamic period, a phenomenon that merits the

attention and cooperation of both archaeologists andsocial historians.

Dating these sites has proven somewhat controversialand has attracted the efforts of several archaeologists.Steve proposed a late Sasanian foundation for Kharg andtraced its continued occupation until the tenth century,while King suggested Sīr Banī Yās flourished between thefourth and eighth centuries. Carter, however, has under-taken a refined analysis of the evidence on the basis of anew pottery sequence for the late antique and early IslamicGulf (Carter 2008; Kennet 2004). His conclusions are asfollows: 1) the monastic institutions of both Sīr Banī Yāsand Kharg could have been constructed no earlier than thelate seventh century; 2) the monasteries flourishedbetween the late seventh century and the middle of theeighth century; and 3) if the monastery at Sīr Banī Yās wasabandoned at some point in the middle of the eighthcentury, Kharg apparently lasted until the ninth. Carter hasthus provided historians with a fairly precise framework inwhich to place the diffusion and decline of coenobiticinstitutions in the Persian Gulf. On the basis of existingtextual studies, the archaeologists have been struck by theapparent dissonance of the literary and archaeologicalevidence. The present contribution seeks to demonstratethat the literary evidence strongly supports the proposi-tions of Carter and, in turn, that the archaeology of rapidlyexpanding coenobitic institutions in the late seventh-century Persian Gulf well informs the production of ourprincipal literary source for the phenomenon: the Historyof Mar Yonan, a text that has hitherto been misdated to thefourth century.

There were monastic communities in the Persian Gulfprior to the development of large-scale coenobiticinstitutions, perhaps as early as the fourth century. Thebishops of Beit Qatraye, Revardashir, on the coast of Fars,and Oman represented Christian communities at EastSyrian synods from the early fifth century (Fiey 1969;Beaucamp & Robin 1983; Potts 1990: 241–247, 330–334;Bin Seray 1996), and given the centrality of asceticism toearly Syriac-speaking Christianity they were likelyaccompanied by ascetics, whether monks (dayraye ori�hidaye) or bnai/bnat qyama. The Chronicle of Seert haspreserved an account of the monastic foundationsof ʿAbdisho in the middle of the fourth century, whichincluded a monastery in Beit Qatraye (Scher 1911: 311–312). Nevertheless, if monks were present in the PersianGulf before the emergence of the Egyptianising coenobit-ism that transformed monasticism in the Iranian worldfrom the middle of the sixth century onwards, they will

RICHARD PAYNE

98

have inhabited modest institutions within, or very near,population centres like the other ascetic communitiesknown from fourth-, fifth- and early sixth-century Iran,which would be indistinguishable from other types ofdwelling in the archaeological record (Vööbus 1958: 229–234). It is only in the course of the seventh century thatsubstantial monastic communities involved in the stormyrelations between the bishops, catholicoi and lay consti-tuencies appear in the letters of the catholicos Ishoyahb III(Tamcke 2007; Healey 2000). Within decades of thefoundation of Abraham of Kashkar’s famed monastery innorthern Mesopotamia, adherents of the new coenobitismwere active in the islands of the Persian Gulf. Theexcavated monasteries of Sīr Banī Yās and Kharg and theHistory of Mar Yonan attest not to the origins of Christianasceticism in the Persian Gulf, but rather to the emergenceof the institutions of reform, coenobitic monasticism onislands whose topography invited a re-imagination of thedeserts of Egypt.

An expansion of monastic institutions in the Umayyadperiod, followed by a precipitous decline in monasticfortunes under the early Abbasids, is a pattern familiarfrom Egypt and other regions of the Near East (Pahlitzsch2009; Key Fowden 2004; Delattre 2004: 55; Kahle 1954:42; Godlewski 1986: 76–77). Early Muslims recognisedthe spiritual authority and accomplishments of monks,especially solitaries, which only the practitioners of jihād— sometimes itself conceptualised as a monasticism(rahbāniyya) — surpassed (Campbell 2009: 64–112; KeyFowden 2007). The Islamic conquests do not appear tohave disrupted the rhythms of social life in the PersianGulf. In Oman, for instance, the Arab dynasty oncecultivated by the late Sasanian kings — the Julanda —

retained their dominance (Wilkinson 1975; King 2001).The rise of the Kharijites from the late seventh centuryonwards, so irksome to the caliphs, will not have disturbedthe Christian population. Kennet has recently argued thatthe seventh and eighth centuries experienced a revival ofeconomic activity — both regional and long-distance trade— that would characterise the region into the Middle Ages(2007). This may help to explain the flurry of culturalproduction that took place in the latter half of the seventhcentury, when numerous translators, theologians andascetic authors made Beit Qatraye into a major centrefor East Syrian intellectual culture (Brock 1999–2000;Contini 2003). Despite an isolated report of coercedconversion in Oman (Potts 1990: 346–347), the firstIslamic century was in both economic and cultural terms ahigh point for the Christians of the Persian Gulf

(Beaucamp & Robin 1983). Both the excavations ofmonasteries, churches and stelae, and the History of MarYonan itself testify to an upturn in Christian fortunes afterthe Islamic conquest. Discussions of Christian, Jewishand Zoroastrian communities in early Islamic societycontinue to be beleaguered by blanket descriptions of‘dhimmitude,’ a paradigm whose displacement willrequire chronologically and geographically nuanced stu-dies of the social history of non-Muslims in an emergentIslamic society (Papaconstantinou 2008). The archaeolo-gical and textual evidence for monasticism in the seventh-and eighth-century Persian Gulf provides a case study ofthe transformation of Christian institutions in the post-conquest Near East in a particular region.

The History of Mar YonanAs an account of a holy man mediating between an abbot,coenobites and anchorites, the History of Mar Yonan is aunique witness to monastic life in the early Islamic PersianGulf. Although composed, as we shall argue in moredetail, in the late seventh or early eighth century, the holyman was purported to have dwelled at the monastery in thefourth century. An abbot of the monastery, a certain Zadoi,claimed to have known the holy man personally andprovided a first-person account of both the saint’s life andthe relationship between abbot and holy man (Bedjan1890: 467). A descendant of the family of Constantine atRome, Mar Yonan was reared on the island of Cypruswhere he was trained in medicine and philosophy andwhere the bishop Epiphanius foresaw his ascetic leader-ship as a ‘father of the solitaries’ (aba d-i

�hidaye) (1890:

472–473). When sent to study medicinal herbs in themountains, he fled to the wilderness and encountered MarAwgen, a purportedly fourth-century monk whose legendwas propagated from the late sixth century onwards(Bedjan 1892: 376–480). He accompanied the renownedascetic to Egypt and returned with him to the kingdom ofthe Persians to establish new monasteries. Mar Yonan thenfounded a community of monks in the wilderness near thecity of Perōz-Šāpūr (Anbar) (Bedjan 1890: 483), amonastery known from the tenth-century Book ofMonasteries of al-Shābushtī (ʿAwwād 1966: 258–264).To escape the pressures of the communal life, the holyman abandoned his foundation to pursue the solitary life inthe Persian Gulf, where the monks suspected him of beinga bishop fleeing his flock (Bedjan 1890: 486–487). At theMonastery of Mar Thomas, Mar Yonan practised solitude,performed miracles and secured the attentions of lay

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

99

patrons. He departed as suddenly as he had arrived toreturn to northern Mesopotamia, where his ongoingillustrious exploits included the conversion of a marzbān(1890: 514). The Monastery of Mar Thomas resembled inevery respect the excavated site of Sīr Banī Yās: a black,mountainous island along the coast of Mazun, with acoenobitic institution accompanied by individual cellsseparate from the coenobium. Mazun designated the entiresouth-eastern corner of the Arabian Peninsula in lateantiquity, encompassing both the United Arab Emiratesand Oman (de Blois 1989: 164–166). If the preciseidentification of Sīr Banī Yās with the Monastery of MarThomas cannot at this stage be either confirmed ordismissed definitively, the hagiographer of the History ofMar Yonan described a monastic world closely conform-ing with both the archaeological and literary evidence formonasticism in the seventh- and eighth-century PersianGulf. The hagiographer represented a fourth-century holyman in the monastic landscape known to him. He did sowith a view to expressing a particular vision of monasticcommunity by means of an ascetic avatar of grand lineage.

The History of Mar Yonan has not attracted sustainedscholarly attention since Mingana’s cursory discussion ofthe text at the beginning of the twentieth century. Hisdescription of a fourth-century account of the foundationof a monastery has misled subsequent discussions of theliterary evidence for monasticism in the Persian Gulf(Mingana 1926: 450–451). A recent discussion of thediffusion of monasticism in the region has perpetuatedMingana’s misdating (Jullien & Jullien 2003: 160), whilean overview of Syriac sources for the late antique PersianGulf omitted the text entirely from its purview (Bin Seray1997). Firstly, although Mar Yonan’s activities in thePersian Gulf are a major concern of the text, the History ofMar Yonan recounted the foundation of a monastery innorthern Mesopotamia, the monastery of Mar Yonan, not anew foundation in the Persian Gulf. Secondly, thenarrative associated Mar Yonan with two saints whosehistories were propagated only in the late sixth andseventh centuries: Mar Awgen and Mar Qardagh. TheHistory of Mar Qardagh, aspects of which were adaptedby the hagiographer (Bedjan 1890: 515), was produced inthe early seventh century (Walker 2006). More conse-quentially, the History of Mar Yonan constituted anelaboration of the narratives of Mar Awgen that emergedwithin the east Syrian monastic communities in the latesixth and seventh centuries. It is precisely because ofYonan’s association with Awgen that scholars of Syriacliterature have refrained from discussing the text. In good

Bollandist fashion, Peeters described the History of MarAwgen as a ‘contrefaçon d’un faux et plagiat au seconddegré’, and even Fiey’s sympathetic reading of the textcould only derive a proverbial kernel of truth from itsnarrative of a fourth-century monastic (Peeters 1920: 339–342; Fiey 1962). However, as early as 1922, Dyakonovmoved beyond such narrowly positivistic discussions ofMar Awgen’s supposed historicity to reconstruct thedevelopment of the narrative on the basis of themanuscripts then available (Dyakonov 1922). Dyakonovdemonstrated that an early version of the History of MarAwgen was in circulation in the seventh century, andprobably as early as the middle of the sixth century. Hethen traced the steady expansion of the narrative, and theamplification of the number of Awgen’s disciples into theeleventh century. His argument has been strikinglyconfirmed by the discovery and recent publication ofnew manuscripts. A fragmentary Sogdian version of theHistory of Mar Awgen discovered at the site of an EastSyrian monastic community in the Turfan Oasis in westernChina demonstrates the circulation of the text in theseventh and eighth centuries, while Syriac fragments of theascetic writings of Dadishoʿ Qatraya now show that thismonk was aware of an account of Mar Awgen in the lateseventh-century Persian Gulf (Sundermann 2002; Sims-Williams 1994: 44–45). The narrative of the supposedlyfourth-century Mar Awgen, his foundation and hisdisciples, was developed and promoted in the late sixthand/or seventh centuries.

If the holy man’s association with Mar Awgen and MarQardagh points conclusively to the seventh century as aterminus post quem, Ishoʿdnah of Basra’s composition of apoetic version of the History of Mar Yonan in the mid-ninth century serves as a clear terminus ante quem (Guidi1892: 756–758; Fiey 1966). The narrative, as we shall see,addressed the challenges posed to ascetic ideology by theexpansion of coenobitic institutions, which the archae-ology shows to have taken place in the late seventh andearly eighth centuries. The History of Mar Yonan wascomposed simultaneously with the rise of coenobitism inthe Persian Gulf, just as narratives of storied monasticfounders — most notably Awgen, Abraham and theirdisciples — were advanced throughout the Iranian world.This was an era of remarkable literary productivity amongthe ascetics of the Persian Gulf, such as Dadishoʿ Qatrayaand Isaac of Nineveh, who produced works that carefullyweighed the demands of coenobitism and the life ofsolitude (i

�hidayuta). The production of the narrative

invites consideration of the relationship between

RICHARD PAYNE

100

hagiographical production and the expansion of thecoenobitic structures that often sat uneasily with discoursesof ascetic perfection prevalent among Syriac-speakingmonks. Historians of late antique monastic hagiographyincreasingly highlight the constructive work accomplishedby hagiographical texts in defining the legitimate range ofrelationships between ascetics, the surrounding society andthe material environment in communities where a diversityof ascetic ideologies rivalled or complemented one another.Hagiographies were not crafted to document ascetichistories. Rather, they served themselves to constitutemonasticism as a historical phenomenon (Krueger 2004:194–195). TheHistory ofMar Yonanwill provide importantevidence for the structures of monastic communitiescorresponding with archaeological findings, but the inclu-sion of such information within the account was alwayssubordinate to the ideological functions of the text, theprimary object of our attention.

Yonan, Awgen and EgyptianisationDuring the late sixth and seventh centuries, a new form ofcoenobitic monasticism displaced or complemented tradi-tional forms of the ascetic life among the Christians of theIranian world. Although our knowledge of asceticism infourth- and fifth-century Iran is constrained by a paucity ofsources, scattered references to monks and bnai or bnatqyama imply the prevalence of modest groups of asceticsclosely linked with, or embedded within, broader Christiancommunities (Griffith 2002). In the sixth century, how-ever, coenobitic institutions came firmly to segregate, inideological terms (Goehring 2003), monks from the world,to place them in the wilderness. Associated above all withthe reform of Abraham of Kashkar, these monks adheredto one of several coenobitic rules produced in the lateSasanian period that strictly defined the monastic habitusand distinguished them from rival ascetics by means of atonsure (Camplani 2007; Jullien F 2008b; Chialà 2008).Monastic walls and properties imparted, and symbolised,the illusion of autonomy from the world. The rise ofcoenobitism was attended by a process of Egyptianisationthat obscured indigenous narratives of ascetic triumph(Brock 1998). Mar Abraham was believed to havemastered his asceticism in Egypt, and the coenobiticmonks of Iran viewed themselves as the successors ofAnthony and Pachomius as well as of Abraham andAwgen. In the middle of the seventh century, ʿAnanishoproduced a Syriac compilation of tales of Egyptian monks,the Paradise of the Fathers, which in addition to existing

versions of the Life of Antony and the Lausiac Historyenabled East Syrian monks to read their way to Egypt(Budge 1904; Brock 2008: 189–196; Meshcherskaya1987). But palpable genealogical links with Egypt wereno less important than such imaginative encounters withthe desert of the fathers. A concern with lists andgenealogies thus pervaded the hagiographies emergingfrom the East Syrian coenobitic movement. Narratives ofAbraham’s reform enumerated the disciples who couldclaim Abraham, and his Egyptian genealogy, as theirmaster. In the course of the late sixth and seventhcenturies, Abrahamic foundations were establishedthroughout northern Mesopotamia and in Khuzistan(Jullien F 2006). At the same time, however, anotherfigure emerged in monastic hagiographies endowing linkswith Egypt: Awgen.

Monks who could not claim Mar Abraham as theirmaster could turn to Mar Awgen, a figure from areassuringly distant past. Jullien has demonstrated theextent to which the narratives of Abraham and Awgen —

both trainees of Egyptian masters, founders of monasterieson Mount Izala, and fathers of many disciples —

paralleled one another (Jullien F 2008a). If we place theemergence of the Awgen narrative within the context of asixth- and seventh-century expansion, in which associationwith an Abrahamic genealogy legitimated new founda-tions but was available only to a limited number ofdisciples, the appeal of a highly flexible account endowingmonasteries with an Egyptian genealogy and a thauma-turgic tradition becomes plain. By the eleventh century,seventy-two monasteries claimed to have been founded bya disciple of Awgen (Dyakonov 1922: 111). The narrativesof Abraham and Awgen — a historical personage wholived within living memory of the first generation ofreformed coenobites, and a figure from an obscure,mythical past — complemented, rather than competedwith, one another. Ishoʿdnah’s Book of Chastity, our bestsource for the interaction of the two traditions before themiddle of the ninth century, recorded fusions of the twonarratives: Rabban Ukama, for instance, a disciple ofAbraham, constructed a church to house the relics of MarYohannes, a disciple of Awgen, and rebuilt his ruinedmonastery (Chabot 1896: 4/6). Both narratives flourishedalongside one another, and conferred the legitimacy thatcould only have been won at Scete. If Ishoʿdnah of Basra,Thomas of Marga, and subsequent hagiographers permitus to trace the overall success and diffusion of the Awgenand Abraham narratives among the monasteries of theIranian world over the course of three centuries, the

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

101

History of Mar Yonan remains the only text to reveal thecircumstances in which, and the mechanics through which,particular monasteries emplotted themselves within eithernarrative in the seventh and eighth centuries.

The author of the History of Mar Yonan was both aninnovative hagiographer in his own right, and animaginative adapter of an early recension of the Historyof Mar Awgen, as well as other seventh-century hagio-graphical texts, a reminder of the high level of asceticliterary production characteristic of the Persian Gulfmonasteries. The literary structure of the text, whichwould merit further study, is unparalleled in East Syrianhagiography: in the form of a first-person narrative, anabbot of the monastery recounted his personal relationshipwith the holy man as well as the testimonials of otherinformants familiar with him, Rabban Philon, the fellowanchorite, and Papa, Mar Yonan’s disciple. The anomalousadaptation of a first-person narrative both endowed the textwith the authority of its narrator and simultaneouslybolstered the selfsame narrator’s spiritual authority. Anearly abbot of the monastery was the purported narrator,and his seventh- and eighth-century successors will havenarrated the account in his place. As we shall see, theauthority of the monastic leadership was a primaryconcern of the History of Mar Yonan. But if the first-person account facilitated the reinvention of the monas-tery’s history, the narrative interwove the account of MarYonan with existing, alternative visions of the monasticpast. The primary purpose of Mar Yonan’s journey to thePersian Gulf was to meet and embrace a fellow anchorite,Rabban Philon, an otherwise unknown figure central to themonastery’s history. As the abbot-narrator cited RabbanPhilon as a reliable source, the indigenous anchoritepreceded Mar Yonan in the monastery’s historicalconsciousness (Bedjan 1890: 485).

The abbot-narrator witnessed the exchange of relics thatmaterially effected and symbolised the melding of localand universal monastic histories. During their sojourn toRabban Philon’s island, the abbot overheard the twoanchorites conversing about the foundations of MarAwgen and Mar Yonan’s impending return to themonastery he had established in northern Mesopotamia.Rabban Philon then petitioned Mar Yonan for ‘a blessingfrom paradise’:

‘“Give to me the belt upon your waist that belonged toMar Awgen” The holy Mar Yonan removed the beltfrom his waist and gave it to him… [Rabban Philon]also took a small staff out of his cave, broke it in half,

and gave it to the blessed Mar Yonan, saying, “Burythis in the wilderness in which you dwell or in the wallof your temple.”’ (Bedjan 1890: 506)

The exchange of gifts between the two holy men endowedthe literary model of ascetic intimacy with materialevidence. The Monastery of Mar Thomas’s possession ofthe belt of Mar Awgen physically connected its monkswith the Egyptian tradition mediated by Mar Yonan andRabban Philon. The History of Mar Yonan offered a fusionof the two anchoritic pasts which together forged a linkwith Egypt, while preserving the memory of native ascetictraditions.

The saints, however, did not merely endow themonastery with a genealogy deriving from Egypt vianorthern Mesopotamia, but also made present the Egyptianthaumaturgical tradition on these distant islands. While theascetic exemplars conversed, Mar Yonan expressedwonder at the obedience of Rabban Philon’s crab whohad carried the monks across the sea: ‘“This animal obeysyou well.” Mar Philon said to him, “You, too, AbbaYonan, the raven obeyed you well in the wilderness ofPerōz Šāpūr for thirty years, and even came with you tothe monastery of Rabban Thomas”’ (1890: 504–505).Indeed, a raven had accompanied the saint and deliveredhis nourishment, allowing him to abstain from humancommerce. As the abbot-narrator witnessed, ‘a raven camesuddenly carrying a loaf of bread in its beak’ (1890: 488).The raven’s miraculous provisioning of the holy man wasplainly an adaptation of a paradigmatic account of theascetic life, itself modelled on Elijah’s raven: Jerome’s Lifeof Paul, which was incorporated into the East SyrianParadise of the Fathers (Budge 1904: 247/306). MarYonan acquired his sustenance from a raven, just as thefirst monk had. But the hagiographer was not contentmerely to represent the holy man re-enacting amiraculous episode from the Egyptian desert. Rather,he dressed the Egyptian miracle in local colours. Inaddition to bread, the raven brought dates, symbols of theMonastery of Mar Thomas’s wealth that suffused theHistory of Mar Yonan. The abbot was further astonishedwhen the raven delivered grapes: ‘I have never seen avineyard, nor do I know grapes, although I have heardabout them, because in our land there are only datepalms’ (Bedjan 1890: 489). As in the cases of theresuscitation of a pearl merchant’s son or the healing of aman who fell from a date palm, we have a miracleknown from the Paradise of the Fathers represented indecidedly local terms.

RICHARD PAYNE

102

The process of Egyptianisation transformed, but did noteclipse, traditional forms of Syriac asceticism. Already thelate fourth- or early fifth-century translator of the Life ofAnthony from Greek into Syriac announced a convergenceof Syriac and Egyptian idioms by retaining the traditionalform for solitary, i

�hidaya, rather than monachos (Takeda

1998: 189). Vehement contestations of ascetic ideologiesattended the rise of coenobitism in the Iranian world.Where traditional Syro-Mesopotamian asceticism placedpoverty at the centre of its practice, institutions of thecommon life depended on the accumulation of wealth(Escolan 1999: 183–225). The adaptation of a Romanheresiological discourse of Messalianism served tomarginalise forms of asceticism disrespectful of emergentcoenobitic hierarchies and ideologies. Solitaries whoundertook the most exacting practices associated withperfection in Syriac asceticism — absolute poverty,homelessness, the state of being a stranger, sleeplessness,ceaseless prayer — risked classification and condemnationas Messalians (Caner 2002; Tamcke 1988: 23–24).Thomas of Marga, for instance, related the fate of solitariesin northern Iraq, who were accused of Messalianism byrival ascetics before the catholicos Henanishoʿ on accountof their ‘strict and ascetic manner of life’ (Budge 1893: 53/95). Nevertheless, East Syrian coenobitism reserved aplace for, and insisted on the merits of, the individual featsof ascetic rigor characteristic of traditional Syro-Mesopo-tamian asceticism. The incorporation of the perfect life ofsolitaries, whether immured within a monastery’s walls orperched upon a stylite’s column in the courtyard as in theWest Syrian monasteries of Tur ʿAbdin, was equallytypical of the East Syrian institutions beyond the frontier(Palmer 1990: 81–112). Coenobites and solitaries were toexercise complementary roles within reformed East Syrianmonasticism, an ideological challenge for the engineers ofmonastic community.

Solitaries and coenobitesBoth the archaeological reports and the History of MarYonan indicate the importance of, and the tensionsprovoked by, the coexistence of solitaries and coenobitesin the monasteries of the Persian Gulf. The monastery(ʿumra) of Mar Thomas was a coenobitic institutionorganised according to the principles envisioned by therules of Abraham, Babai and others. The History of MarYonan claimed 200 monks resided within its walls, a figureunworthy of our confidence but suggestive of a substantialcoenobium such as those at Sīr Banī Yās or Kharg

(Wipszycka 2005). In addition to the inhabitants of thecentral coenobium, the text refers to ascetics, not least theanchorite himself, dwelling at some remove from the otherbrothers, either in the immediate surroundings or furtherafield on a neighbouring island. When Mar Yonan initiallyappeared at the monastery, he absconded to ‘a great cell(qelayta) that was called Bokta, for it was a little far fromthe monastery’, which possessed a ‘courtyard’ (darta)(Bedjan 1890: 487–488.). The description of the cellcorresponds precisely with the structures excavated out-side the monasteries at Kharg and Sīr Banī Yās. Six‘courtyard houses’ have so far emerged to the north of theSīr Banī Yās monastery; these are substantial, finelyplastered structures surrounded by a courtyard, some ofwhich contain multiple rooms (King 1997: 229–233).Ghirshman suggested that similar structures at Kharghoused clerics, who administered the liturgies of themonastery, together with their families (1960: 14). Thereference to ‘great’ cells with courtyards a modest distancefrom the monastery shows that these buildings were in factmonastic cells for the use of ascetically more advancedmonks, as Elders suggested (2001: 53). One cell — abishop’s retreat — was reported to have cost 50 dinars, butunfortunately neither the size nor the location of thehabitation were noted (Bedjan 1890: 508). The compara-tive opulence of the cells should not surprise. AsWipszycka has shown, on the basis of much richerarchaeological and textual evidence, the solitaries of Egypttended to inhabit spacious hermitages requiring substantialfinancial outlays (1986; 1995; 1996). Solitaries, after all,did not typically dwell alone. Dadishoʿ Qatraya presumedthat solitaries were attended by servants (mshamshane),likely novices within the community, who would cohabitwith them in their cells (Mingana 1934: 207/85, 209/88,210/89). The boundary between servant and disciple wasnotoriously slippery (Wipszycka 1986: 75). Not unlike thefar more expansive settlement of hermitages in the hillsbehind the coenobium at Naqlun, the monasteries of thePersian Gulf appear to have maintained two distinctsettlement patterns for solitaries and coenobites.

The evidence thus closely corresponds with the modelof monastic community propagated by a seventh-centurymonk from the Persian Gulf region of Beit Qatraye.Dadishoʿ Qatraya offered the most sustained and influentialexpositions of the role of solitaries within East Syrianmonasticism. The survival of fragments of his writings inSogdian attests to their remarkable diffusion among EastSyrian monks from the Persian Gulf to the Turfan Oasis(Sims-Williams 1985: 78–86). Dadishoʿ enjoined monks to

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

103

engage in the solitary and silent life in order to attainperfection in On the Silence of the Seven Days. To supporthis promotion and interpretation of the i

�hidaye, he drew

upon a wide range of translated literature, especially theAsceticon of Abba Isaiah, on which he produced a lengthycommentary (Draguet 1972). His work testifies to theintellectual processes through which the inheritance ofEgypt could be employed to reaffirm and advance theposition of the traditional solitary life within coenobiticcommunities. Dadishoʿ, not unlike the fourth-centuryauthor of the Book of Steps, conceived of the Christiancommunity as a sliding scale, with the righteous worldlyon the one end and the anchorites on the other. Each wouldreceive his reward and delight in heaven in proportionwith his ‘labor of [Christ’s] commandments’ (Mingana1934: 202/77). The solitaries were clearly distinguishedfrom the coenobitic monks, who cultivated fields andreceived travellers, by a larger tonsure (supara), but therewas also a hierarchy of solitaries:

‘The way of life (dubara) of the novice solitaries whoreside in monasteries, in coenobia is one thing, and theway of life of the cell solitaries (i

�hidaye qelaye) who

reside in the small silence for week-long periods isanother. Different, too, is the way of life of the solitarieswho keep the fixed weeks, I mean, the fast of our Lord,the fast of the apostles, and the fast of the prophets. Theway of life and rule (qanon) of the solitaries who dwellalone, outside of communities (knushye), in wildernessand desolation is one thing, and the way of life and law(namosa) of those who are called wanderers isanother... The exalted, laborious, and perfected way oflife of the solitary anchorites is [yet] another.’ (Mingana1934: 202/78)

The extent to which monks could achieve solitude andsilence determined their place within the ascetic ranks. Wehave here an outline of the ascetic hierarchies discerniblein the archaeological record and in the History of MarYonan. Solitaries of varying degrees of accomplishmentadjoined communities of coenobitic monks, and thehierarchy of solitaries culminated in the anchorites, towhose ranks Mar Yonan himself belonged.

As Dadishoʿ Qatraya’s writings suggest, ascetic stratifi-cation appears to have been more fundamental to thestructure and functioning of monastic communities in thePersian Gulf than in Egypt. Whereas a monastery wasraised at the foot of the already flourishing hermitages ofNaqlun, the coenobium and cells of Sīr Banī Yās were

constructed simultaneously in complementary styles, vividtestimony of the symbiosis of solitaries and coenobitespresupposed and propagated by Dadishoʿ. Mar Yonanadhered closely to the guidelines enjoined by the treatiseOn the Silence of the Seven Days. He first manifestedhimself to the monks at the monastery of Mar Thomas on aSunday and hastily departed from the gathering, as wouldbefit a solitary observing the silence (Bedjan 1890: 495).When he had taken up residence in a cell, he providedspecific directives to the abbot regarding his relations withthe brothers: ‘I beg you to warn the brothers that they arenot to knock on my door, and no one is to come to meexcept for you alone’ (1890: 490, 500). The injunctionmatches Dadishoʿ’s provision that a solitary communicateonly with his appointed ‘guide’ (hadaya) (Mingana 1934:207/85). And as an anchorite the holy man achieved thehighest state of ascetic perfection on Dadishoʿ’s scale,together with Rabban Philon who dwelled in isolation ona neighbouring island. The centrality of these twoanchorites to a narrative endowing the monastery withhistorical legitimacy bears witness to the importance ofsuch unseen, perfected solitaries to the self-conception ofthe coenobites, some of whom may themselveshave temporarily undertaken the silence of the sevendays, or less extended periods of solitude, as Dadishoʿrecommended.

Mar Yonan’s demand for isolation from the community,with the mediation of the abbot, underscored thedifficulties of maintaining boundaries between the differ-ent gradations of asceticism. In recounting a history of ananchorite and his relationship with the community, theabbot-narrator set out a normative paradigm governinginteractions between coenobites and solitaries. Thebrothers were admonished to maintain the distancerequired for the solitary life, a challenge all the morepressing for the proximity of the solitaries’ cells. WhenMar Yonan’s disciple from his northern Mesopotamianfoundation, Papa, reached the black island, he related anadmonitory tale of boundaries unintentionally trans-gressed:

‘We were ten solitaries there, and everyone of us wastwo miles distant from his companion. The blessedbrothers convened and said, “It is right for us to buildcells in proximity to one another because of themultitude of people around us…” The brotherspersuaded [Mar Yonan] and said, “You, too, our father,build for yourself a cell with us.”’ (Bedjan 1890: 509–510)

RICHARD PAYNE

104

The holy man demanded to be left alone in prayer, andabsconded to the Persian Gulf that very evening. Loss ofan ascetic master was the recompense for the pestering of asolitary.

Such an account invited recognition of the boundarythat required ongoing policing if the relations betweencoenobites and solitaries were to proceed symbiotically.The History of Mar Yonan promoted the abbot as theadministrator of this boundary, as Mar Yonan’s designa-tion of the abbot as his mediator with the communityimplied. The abbot, moreover, resided in one of the cellsapart from the coenobium, the very ‘great cell’ to whichMar Yonan initially took refuge. The abbot thus occupieda liminal space between the coenobites and the solitaries,in a manner reminiscent of Shenoute, mediating betweenthe different strata of ascetics within the community.Leaders of the monasteries of the Persian Gulf, responsiblefor the most worldly tasks of administration, positionedthemselves among the most unworldly practitioners of theangelic life. This practice accounts for the presence ofindividual courtyard cells (the so-called houses) substan-tially larger than the other cells at both Sīr Banī Yās andKharg. The peculiar position of monastic leadershippermitted the abbot-narrator of the History of Mar Yonanto give an account of the lives of anchorites and, in sodoing, to place the origins of the monastery’s wealthamong the activities of the most perfect and thus bestequipped to effect disinterested transactions, ‘blessings’.

Dinars and date palmsMonasteries tended and depended upon both landedwealth and a steady stream of gifts. As Villagomez hasshown for northern Mesopotamia, the expansion ofcoenobitic institutions in late Sasanian and early IslamicIran depended on the patronage and capital of lay elites(1998). In northern Mesopotamia, these were chieflylanded aristocrats. The Christian elites of the Persian Gulf,however, derived their surplus wealth principally fromtrade. Growth in trade during the seventh century isevident from increasing monetisation (Banaji 2006), evenif the distribution and dating of Sasanian coin finds in theregion remain inconclusive (Kennet 2008). The activitiesof East Syrian traders in the Indian Ocean are well knownthanks both to the captivating account of CosmasIndicopleustes (Mundell Mango 1996) and extensiveevidence for connections between the inhabitants of Farsand the Gulf with India, such as the Pahlavi inscriptionsfrom Chennai now dated to the ninth century (Gropp 1991;

Cereti 2009). However, the myth of the ‘Nestorian trader’is belied by these inscriptions, which reveal howprofoundly interwoven Christian, Zoroastrian and Jewishtrading communities were. Pearling provided the elites ofthe region a commodity to exchange at distant ports(Bedjan 1890: 511; Colless 1970). The father of Job ofRevardashir, for instance, was reputed to have been a‘trader of pearls and fine stones’ in the city of Revardashiralong the Persian Gulf, who dispatched his son to theRoman Empire to sell pearls (Chabot 1896: 27/24). But inaddition to long-distance trade in luxury goods, theHistory of Mar Yonan described the more humble, butperhaps more pervasive and more lucrative importation ofwine from Fars (Bedjan 1890: 498). There is ampleevidence for the importance of wine production to theeconomy of Fars, and the hagiographer’s reference to tradein wine indicates that the conveyance of bulk goods acrossthe Persian Gulf was as banal as elsewhere in the lateantique Near East (Gignoux 1999; Decker 2009: 228–257). Larsen has highlighted a comparative decline inagricultural exploitation in the region in late antiquity,which may have resulted from a dependence on Fars andMesopotamia (1983: 84–86). Whether transporting pearls,grain or wine, merchants and their ships were the primarysources of wealth in the seventh- and eighth-centuryPersian Gulf. The History of Mar Yonan recorded the giftsof two such Christian merchants, both from otherwiseunknown ‘cities’ in the monastery’s foreland. In recount-ing these acts of euergetism, the text revealed not only theconnections between merchants and monks, but also theculturally specific mechanisms that rendered such transfersof wealth legitimate within monastic ideology.

The first of these lay patrons was Nuʿaym ‘the steadfastbeliever’ (mhaymna sharira) in the city of Marun (or,more likely, Mazun), in whose house one of the monkslodged while visiting the city, evidence of a network ofalliances sustaining the community (Bedjan 1890: 491).When the sojourning monk noticed the sickness ofNuʿaym’s son, he encouraged him to journey to the holyman to seek healing, six days’ sailing from the city (1890:492). The child perished en route, and the family laid thecorpse before the cell of Mar Yonan, ‘wailing, mourning,and rending their clothes’, practices the saint condemnedas pagan. Nuʿaym adopted a position of supreme humility:‘He seized the feet of the holy one while saying, “Havemercy upon me, servant of the living God, as this is myonly son and I do not have an heir aside from him”’ (1890:493). Mar Yonan took the child into his cell, and the boyemerged whole, with a parsnip in his hand. Attracted by

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

105

reports of the holy man’s wonder-working, the secondpatron, ‘Zarqon from the city of Milon where they bringpearls from the sea’, also brought his son, possessed by ademon, to the monastery, and prostrated himself beforeMar Yonan (1890: 494–495). The solitary advised him,‘Drive out the concubine from your house and your sonwill be healed, because you are a Christian and it is notright for you to trample the divine commandments and toact like the godless pagans’ (1890: 495). His son wasaccordingly healed.

Both of these descriptions of lay patrons includedreformist critiques of lay practices, lamentation andconcubinage, advanced at the Synod of George in 676on the Persian Gulf island of Dayrin (Chabot 1902: 215–226, 480–490). The novel Christian ‘laws’ sought toinstantiate a new relationship between lay persons, theecclesiastical hierarchy, and the monasteries in the post-conquest period, when social hierarchies were in flux(Payne 2009). The inclusion of these redefinitions ofChristian identity in the History of Mar Yonan suggeststhat the Persian Gulf monasteries were engaged in thepromotion of these new laws and the vision of Christiancommunity they implied. And, if literary sources describeendemic conflict between Christian lay and ecclesiasticalelites in the seventh and eighth centuries, the materialremains of the East Syrian monasteries speak eloquently ofthe attentions lay elites dedicated to monastic institutions,the expansion of which depended on lay patronage.Encounters between lay persons and ascetics wereprivileged moments for the communication of the ‘labourand commandments’ of Christianity, adherence to whichsecured salvation — even for worldly believers — onDadishoʿ’s sliding soteriological scale. But by threateningthe distance from the world necessary for the labour ofperfection, such encounters required cautious negotiation.

For lay elites brought their wealth with them. Themonastery of Mar Thomas owed its movable andimmovable wealth to the gifts proffered by Nuʿaym,Zarqon and perhaps other lay patrons, or rather, moreprecisely, to the thaumaturgy of Mar Yonan which inspireddonations. Acts of healing did not go uncompensated(Déroche 2006). Nuʿaym’s ‘blessing’ (burkta), a termwhose significance will be discussed below, was describedwith uncharacteristic precision: ‘Because of [the healing ofhis son] Nuʿaym gave to the monastery a ship that hadrecently reached him from China (

�sin). He purchased it

[from us], and we sold it for one thousand three-hundreddinars’ (Bedjan 1890: 494). Neither the reference to Chinanor the heady sum should inspire our confidence.

Although maritime trade with China was of increasingsignificance in the eighth century (Silverstein 2007),

�sin

may well refer to any territory beyond India, and literarysources are notoriously poor records of figures (Scheidel1996). Nevertheless, the passage well indicates theprocesses through which merchant elites endowedthe monastery with its property, namely by donating theprofits of a trading enterprise. The monastery then investedthe capital in landed property and the adornment of thechurch. When the abbot learned of the holy man’simpending departure, he reminded his auditors of thebenefits Mar Yonan had brought to the brothers:

‘Our monastery has had much assistance from him. Forbecause of him Nuʿaym the believer gave us a ship andpurchased it, and we sold it for one thousand and threehundred dinars. And with these we purchased land anddate palms for the monastery. We also provided for therestoration of our church with the rest of them.’ (Bedjan1890: 505–506)

If the donations of the faithful were a principal source ofwealth, date-palm orchards, worked by labourers whofrequently fell from their heights, provided the monks witha more immediate source of nutrition and perhaps rawmaterials. Despite its lands, the monastery cannot havebeen autarchic. Its monks travelled to cities and lodgedwith familiar laymen, evidence of a network of alliancessustaining the community. The monastery of Kharg,moreover, was located a mere 45 km from the city ofRevardashir, whose emporium will have underpinned itscomparative magnitude (Gaube 1973: 32–38). Thedeserted appearance of these windswept islands shouldnot be permitted to obscure these monasteries’ integrationinto the networks of a Christian merchant elite. PersianGulf monasticism was equally a ‘monachisme péri-urbain’(Wipszycka 1986: 356).

Dinars and date palms were as basic to the monastic lifeas distance from those selfsame objects. In late antiquity,Christian religious professionals who derived their author-ity from the renunciation of worldly goods and powerworked out linguistic and literary mechanisms permittingthem to place themselves within the flow of economicactivity while asserting their distance from the lucre ofaccumulated wealth. One of these was the discourse ofblessings encountered above. Caner has shown how theterm ‘blessing’, designating non-reciprocal, pure gifts,contributed to the constitution of a Christian economy ofthe miraculous in which parties to an exchange were

RICHARD PAYNE

106

unperturbed by the raw, potentially explosive powerinhering in wealth. Given not by the donor but directlyby God, such blessings did not merely obliterate thepersonal qualities of the gift, but contained an additional‘value [which] came from the selfless spirit of other-worldly benevolence that was believed to motivate andflow through it’ (Caner 2006: 357). Although thediscourse of blessings pervaded the History of Mar Yonan,the association of the blessings with particular patronsprevented such language from subsuming the individualdonors into the impersonal — because divine —

miraculous economy, the economy that provided MarYonan with bread in the wilderness. In addition toharnessing the transformative power divine blessingsexercised upon wealth, the abbot-narrator placed themonastery’s acquisition of lands and gold in the historyof a holy man whose perfect disinterest and refusal torecognise the person of the giver imparted upon the giftthe requisite purity and impersonality, even as the name ofthe donor was recorded and remembered. Commemorationof the donor was standard practice in the monasteries ofthe Iranian world, many of which were indeed named aftertheir lay patrons (e.g. Mingana 1908: 191/239). If suchpatrons were unwilling to render their offerings asimpersonal ‘blessings’ and insisted on their recognition,narratives of holy mediators of the gift economy couldaccomplish the ablution from the side of the recipients. Bymeans of Mar Yonan’s mediation of these gifts, theybecame blessings.

The holy man thus miraculously multiplied the datepalms, and wine, in which the monastery invested itsdinars. Immediately following upon the narration of theblessings of Nuʿaym and Zarqon, the History of Mar Yonanrecounted two miracles that communicated the holy man’scapacity for transforming wealth. Nuʿaym brought to thesaint a ‘great vessel of glass filled with choice wine’ thathe had imported from the province of Fars (Bedjan 1890:498). One of the monks from the mainland could not resisthis desire to taste wine he had not experienced sincedeparting from his homeland. As he could not find asmaller container, he arrived at Mar Yonan’s cell with avessel as large as the original gift. The holy man willinglyfulfilled the monk’s wish, and he departed with the vesseloverflowing with wine. Yet the sacristan arrived shortlythereafter seeking wine for the performance of the liturgy,and Mar Yonan offered him the vessel sent by Nuʿaym, ‘for[all of] you’, distributing a gift granted directly to the holyman to the whole community. The sacristan found theglass vase (shisha) outside Mar Yonan’s cell still replete,

undiminished by the monk’s filling of his own, equallylarge vessel. The miraculous multiplication of wine wasrepeated when the sacristan once again lacked wine for theliturgy. Mar Yonan summoned him and provided him witha pitcher (quqa) of wine. Aware of the shortage, the abbotand the ‘head of the community’ (rish knushya), MarMoshe — apparently in charge of procuring themonastery’s wine — were astonished at the presence ofwine in the liturgy and demanded to know its source.When they learned Mar Yonan was the supplier, MarMoshe declared, ‘In truth this wine is not from thebranches of the land, but rather from water that wastransformed, like the wine at Cana’ (Bedjan 1890: 500).The holy man exercised similar power over the mon-astery’s dates. A monk drew his attention to a date palmthat, despite being ‘fine and thick in its branches’, did notbear fruit. Mar Yonan struck the date palm with the staffthat was in his hand while saying, ‘Give fruit to thisbrother’. In the morning, the monk entered his courtyard(darta) to find seven clusters of fruit. He summoned thebrothers and said, ‘These are fruits of the prayer of theelder, and they should be distributed to the community ofthe brothers’. The palm continued to supply the brotherswith its wondrous blessings: ‘Every year this date palmbears seven branches to the present day, and its dates arecollected and given to the brothers by allotment becausethey are the blessing of Mar Yonan’ (1890: 496).

The endowment of the monastery’s property hadoccurred in a distant past, at some remove from themonastic auditors of the History of Mar Yonan, safelyeffected through the hands of Mar Yonan. But the ongoingconsumption of the food that sustained the monks’ bodiesand the performance of a liturgy that sustained their soulsimplicated them in processes of economic exchangepotentially no less corrosive than the management ofgold. If dates required the administration of agriculturallabour and defence of the property against intruders, winecould only be procured through trade in the monasteries ofthe Persian Gulf, unlike their counterparts in Mesopota-mia, Syria and Egypt that themselves produced wine forconsumption and commerce (Schachner 2005). Thesewere the commodities essential for monastic life mostredolent of the world’s infectious avarice. Precise regula-tions for food consumption from late antique Egypthighlight the circumspection with which monks ap-proached their meals (Layton 2002: 46–52). The miraclesof multiplication adduced a symbolics of consumption thattraced individual acts of ingestion back to the dates andwine Mar Yonan had generated. The narrative equipped

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

107

monks to interpret the dates hanging upon their palmsand the stocks of wine tended by their sacristan asdivine blessings. When consuming a date or imbibingwine, monks partook of the holy man’s blessings. MarYonan did not so much endow the monastery withproperty as much as initiate a flow of blessings thatstretched from his own wonder-working to individualmonks’ humble acts of consumption, now tinged withthe miraculous. Such an understanding of commoditiesdid not merely neutralise, for both monastic subjects andlay patrons, the contradictions inherent in the lives ofmonks, but also rendered consumption, within the strictbounds of monastic ideology, a perfecting, ascetic act oftapping into undercurrents of holy power reaching backto the most perfect exemplar of the monastic life of thePersian Gulf. Through such miracle accounts, theHistory of Mar Yonan sought primarily to redefine theterms of the exchanges in which the monks participatedand upon which the expansion of monastic institutionsdepended.

ConclusionA monk thus produced a hagiographical work to addressthe growth of coenobitic institutions in the early IslamicPersian Gulf, the structures of which have been disclosedby archaeologists. The capital required both to establishand to maintain these impressive ‘arguments in stone,’ inthe phrase of Peter Brown, challenged ascetic communities

that defined themselves through the rejection of worldlyriches to account for the place of dinars and date palms inascetic labour. The walls of the coenobia, moreover,threatened to sever monks from the traditions of the silentsolitary life (i

�hidayuta), ideologically represented as a

liberation from the worldly wax and wane of fortunes onwhich coenobitic institutions were predicated. To accom-modate coenobitism to a Syro-Mesopotamian asceticmilieu, the hagiographer placed the community of MarThomas within an Egyptian genealogical tradition, that ofMar Awgen, which complemented indigenous ascetictraditions, and appropriated an Egyptian thaumaturgicaltradition in a local idiom. At the same time, the authorpromoted and redefined the role of the solitary life withincoenobitic monasticism. The monks of the early IslamicPersian Gulf imagined themselves as participants in auniversal monasticism pioneered by Anthony, withoutobscuring local idioms and narratives. As the History ofMar Yonan endeavoured to accomplish an ideologicalreorientation of the community’s wealth and walls, theauthor revealed much of the economic and socialstructures of his monastery: the donations of Christianmerchants from the monastery’s foreland, the managementof date-palm orchards and the division between the centralcoenobium and outlying cells, all of which contribute tothe contextualisation of the archaeological discoveries thathave emerged from the Persian Gulf region in recentdecades.

References

ʿAwwād, K. 1966. al-Diyārāt li-Abī al-HasancAli ibn Muhammad al-mcarūf bi-al-Shā-bushtī. Baghdad: Maktabat al-Muthannā.

Banaji, J. 2006. Precious Metal Coinages andMonetary Expansion in Late Antiquity.Pages 265–303 in De Romanis, F. & Sorda,S. (eds), Dal denarius al dinar: L’Oriente ela moneta romana (Rome, Istituto Italianodi Numismatica).

Beaucamp, J. & Robin, C. 1983. L’évêchénestorien de Mâšmâhîg dans l’archipeld’al-Bahrain (Ve-Ixe siècle). Pages 171–196 in Potts, D.T. (ed.), Dilmun: NewStudies in the Archaeology and EarlyHistory of Bahrain (Berlin, Dietrich Re-imer Verlag).

Bedjan, P. (ed.), 1890. Acta martyrum etsanctorum v. I. Paris and Leipzig: OttoHarrassowitz.

Bedjan, P. (ed.), 1892. Acta martyrum etsanctorum v. III. Paris and Leipzig: OttoHarrassowitz.

Bin Seray, H. 1996. Christianity in East Arabia.ARAM 8: 315–332.

Bin Seray, H. 1997. The Arabian Gulf in SyriacSources. Pages 205–232 in Smith, G.R.,Smart, J.R. & Pridham, B.R. (eds), NewArabian Studies 4 (Exeter, University ofExeter).

Blois, F. de. 1989. Maka and Mazūn. StudiaIranica 18: 157–164.

Brock, S. 1998. Le monachisme syriaque:Histoire et spiritualité. Pages 21–31 in Lemonachisme syriaque aux premiers sièclesde l’Eglise v. 1 (Antélias, Editions duCERP).

Brock, S. 1999-2000. Syriac writers from BethQatraye. ARAM 11–12: 85–96.

Brock, S. 2008. Saints in Syriac: A Little-Tapped Resource. Journal of Early Chris-tian Studies 16: 181–196.

Budge, E.A.W. (ed. and trans.), 1893. The Bookof Governors: The Historia Monastica ofThomas Bishop of Marga A.D. 840 v. I–II.London: K. Paul/Trench/Trübner & Co.

Budge, E.A.W. (ed. and trans.), 1904. The Bookof Paradise: Being the Histories andSayings of the Monks and Ascetics of theEgyptian Desert by Palladius, Hieronymusand Others v. I–II. Leipzig: W. Drugulin.

Calvet, Y. 1998. Monuments paléo-chrétiens àKoweit et dans la région du Golfe. Pages671–685 in Lavenant, R. (ed.), SymposiumSyriacum VII (Rome, Pontificio IstitutoOrientale).

Campbell, E. 2009. A Heaven of Wine: Muslim-Christian Encounters at Monasteries in the

RICHARD PAYNE

108

Early Islamic Middle East. PhD thesis.Seattle: University of Washington.

Camplani, A. 2007. The Revival of PersianMonasticism (Sixth to Seventh Centuries):Church Structures, Theological Academy,and Reformed Monks. Pages 277–295 inCamplani, A. & Filoramo, G. (eds),Foundations of Power and Conflicts ofAuthority in Late Antique Monasticism(Louvain, Peeters).

Caner, D. 2002. Wandering, Begging Monks:Spiritual Authority and the Promotion ofMonasticism in Late Antiquity. Berkeley:University of California.

Caner, D. 2006. Towards a Miraculous Econ-omy: Christian Gifts and Material ‘Bles-sings’ in Late Antiquity. Journal of EarlyChristian Studies 14: 329–277.

Carter, R.A. 2008. Christianity in the Gulfduring the first centuries of Islam. Arabianarchaeology and epigraphy 19: 71–108.

Cassis, M. 2002. Kokhe, Cradle of the Churchof the East: An Archaeological and Com-parative Study. Journal of the CanadianSociety for Syriac Studies 2: 62–78.

Cereti, C. 2009. The Pahlavi Signatures on theQuilon Copper Plates (Tabula Quilonensis).Pages 31–50 in Sundermann, W., Hintze,A. & Blois, F. de (eds), Exegisti Monu-menta: Festschrift in Honour of NicholasSims-Williams (Wiesbaden, HarrassowitzVerlag).

Chabot, J.B. (ed. and trans.), 1896. Le livre dela chasteté, composé par Jésusdenahévêque de Baçrah. Rome: L’École françaisede Rome.

Chabot, J.B. (ed. and trans.), 1902. SynodiconOrientale, ou recueil de synodes nestoriens.Paris: Imprimerie nationale.

Chialà, S. 2008. Abraham de Kashkar et sesrègles monastiques. Proche-Orient Chré-tien 58: 248–262.

Colless, B.C. 1970. The Traders of the Pearl.Abr Nahrain 9: 17–42.

Contini, R. 2003. La lingua del Bēt Qatrāyē.Pages 173–181 in Lentin, J. & Lonnet, A.(eds), Mélanges David Cohen: Études surle langage, les langues, les dialectes, leslittératures offertes par ses élèves, sescollègues, ses amis présentés à l’occasionde son quatre-vingtième anniversaire(Paris, Maisonneuve & Larose).

Decker, M. 2009. Tilling the Hateful Earth:Agricultural Production and Trade in theLate Antique Near East. Oxford: OxfordUniversity.

Delattre, A. 2004. Papyrus coptes et grecs dumonastère d’apa Apollô de Baouît con-

servés aux Musées Royaux d’Art et d’His-toire de Bruxelles. Brussels: Académieroyale de Belgique.

Déroche, V. 2006. Vraiment anargyres? Don etcontredon dans les recueils de miraclesprotobyzantins. Pages 153–158 in Caseau,B., Cheynet, J.C. & Déroche, V. (eds),Pèlerinages et lieux saints dans l’antiquitéet le moyen âge: Mélanges offerts à PierreMaraval (Paris, Association des Amis duCentre d’Histoire et Civilisation deByzance).

Dietz, M. 2005. Wandering Monks, Virgins,and Pilgrims: Ascetic Travel in theMediterranean World, A.D. 300–800.University Park: Pennsylvania StateUniversity.

Draguet, R. (ed. and trans.), 1972. Commen-taire du livre d’abba Isaïe (logoi I–XV) parDadišo Qatraya (VII s.) v. 1–2. Louvain:Secrétariat du Corpus SCO.

Dyakonov, A. 1922. K Istorii SiriiskagoSkazaniya o Sv. Mar-Evgene. KhristianskiiVostok 6: 107–174.

Elders, J. 2001. The lost churches of theArabian Gulf: Recent discoveries on theislands of Sir Bani Yas and Marawah, AbuDhabi Emirate, United Arab Emirates.Proceedings of the Seminar for ArabianStudies 31: 47–58.

Escolan, P. 1999. Monachisme et église: Lemonachisme syrien du IVe au VIIe siècle.Paris: Beauchesne.

Fiey, J.M. 1962. Aonès, Awun, et Awgen(Eugène): Aux origines du monachismemésopotamien. Analecta Bollandiana 80:52–81.

Fiey, J.M. 1966. Îchô‘denah, métropolite deBasra, et son oeuvre. L’Orient Syrien 11:431–450.

Fiey, J.M. 1969. Diocèses syriens orientaux duGolfe Persique. Pages 177–219 in Mémor-ial Mgr. Gabriel Khouri-Sarkis (Louvain,Imprimerie Orientaliste).

Finster, B. 1996. Arabien in der Spätantike: EinÜberblick über die kulturelle Situation derHalbinsel in der Zeit von Muhammad.Archäologischer Anzeiger: 287–319.

Gaube, H. 1973. Die südpersische ProvinzArraĝān/Kūh-Gīlūyeh von der arabischenEroberung bis zur Safavidenzeit. Vienna:Österreichische Akademie derWissenschaften.

Ghirshman, R. 1960. Ile de Kharg. Tehran:Iranian Oil Operating Companies.

Gignoux, P. 1999. Matériaux pour une histoiredu vin dans l’Iran ancien. Pages 35–50 inGyselen, R. & Szuppe, M. (ed.), Matériaux

pour l’histoire économique du mondeiranien (Paris, A.A.E.I.).

Godlewski, W. 1986. Le monastère de StPhoibammon. Warsaw: PWN.

Goehring, J. 2003. The Dark Side of Land-scape: Ideology and Power in the ChristianMyth of the Desert. Journal of Medievaland Early Modern Studies 33: 437–451.

Griffith, S. 2002. Asceticism in the Church ofSyria: A Hermeneutics of Early SyrianMonasticism. Pages 220–245 in Wimbush,V. & Valantasis, R. (eds), Asceticism(Oxford, Oxford University).

Gropp, G. 1991. Christian Maritime Trade ofthe Sasanian Age in the Persian Gulf. Pages83–88 in Schippmann, K., Herling, A. &Salles, J.F. (ed.), Golf-Archäologie: Meso-potamien, Iran, Kuweit, Bahrain, Verei-nigte Arabische Emirate und Oman (Bucham Erlbach, Marie L. Leidorf).

Guidi, I. 1892. Bemerkungen zum ersten Bandeder syrischen Acta Martyrum et Sanctorum.Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenländischenGesellschaft 46: 744–758.

Hauser, S. 2007. Christliche Archäologie imSasanidenreich: Grundlagen der Interpreta-tion und Bestandsaufnahme der Evidenz.Pages 93–136 in Mustafa, A., Tubach, J. &Vashalomidze, G.S. (eds), Inkulturation desChristentums im Sasanidenreich (Wiesba-den, Reichert Verlag).

Healey, J.F. 2000. The Christians of Qatar inthe 7th Century A.D. Pages 222–237 inNetton, I.R. (ed.), Studies in Honour ofClifford Edmund Bosworth v. I (Leiden,Brill).

Jullien, F. 2006. Rabban-Šāpūr, un monastèreau rayonnement exceptionnel: La réformed’Abraham de Kaškar dans le Bēth-Hū-zāyē. Orientalia Christiana Periodica 72:333–348.

Jullien, F. 2008a. Aux sources du monachismeoriental: Abraham de Kashkar et le déve-loppement de la légende de Mar Awgin.Revue de l’histoire des religions 225: 37–52.

Jullien, F. 2008b. Le monachisme en Perse: Laréforme d’Abraham le Grand, père desmoines de l’Orient. Louvain: Peeters.

Jullien, C. & Jullien, F. 2003. Le monachismedans leGolfe Persique: Six siècles d’histoire.Pages 155–183 in Steve, M.J. (ed.), L’île deKharg: Une page de l’histoire du golfePersique et du monachisme oriental (Neu-châtel, Civilisations du Proche-Orient).

Kahle, P.E. 1954. Bala’izah: Coptic texts fromDeir el-Bala’izah in upper Egypt v. 1.London: Griffith Institute.

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

109

Kennet, D. 2004. Sasanian and Islamic Potteryfrom Ras al-Khaimah: Classification,Chronology, and Analysis of Trade in theWestern Indian Ocean. Oxford: Archaeo-press.

Kennet, D. 2007. The decline of eastern Arabiain the Sasanian period. Arabian archaeol-ogy and epigraphy 18: 86–122.

Kennet, D. 2008. Sasanian Coins from cUmānand Bahrain. Pages 55–63 in Kennet, D. &Luft, P. (eds), Current Research in Sasa-nian Archaeology, Art and History (Ox-ford, Archaeopress).

Key Fowden, E. 2004. Monks, Monasteries,and Early Islam. Pages 149–174 in Fow-den, G. & Key Fowden, E. (eds), Studieson Hellenism, Christianity, and theUmayyads (Athens, National Hellenic Re-search Foundation).

Key Fowden, E. 2007. The Lamp and theWine Flask: Early Muslim Interest inChristian Monasticism. Pages 1–28 inMontgomery, J., Akasoy, A. & Porman,P. (eds), Islamic Crosspollinations: Inter-actions in the Medieval Middle East(Oxford, E.J.W. Gibb Memorial Trust).

King, G.R.D. 1997. A Nestorian monasticsettlement on the island of Sir Bani Yas,Abu Dhabi: a preliminary report. Bulletinof the School of Oriental and AfricanStudies 60: 221–235.

King, G.R.D. 2001. The coming of Islam andthe Islamic period in the UAE. Pages 70–97 in Al-Abed, I. & Hellyer, P. (eds), TheUnited Arab Emirates: A new perspective(London, Trident Press).

Krueger D. 2004. Writing and Holiness: ThePractice of Authorship in the Early Chris-tian East. Philadelphia: University ofPennsylvania.

Langfeldt, J. 1994. Recently Discovered EarlyChristian Monuments in North-EasternArabia. Arabian archaeology and epigra-phy 5: 32–60.

Larsen, C.E. 1983. Life and Land Use on theBahrain Islands: The Geoarchaeology ofan Ancient Society. Chicago: University ofChicago.

Layton, B. 2002. Social Structure and FoodConsumption in an Early Christian Mon-astery: The Evidence of Shenoute’s Canonand the White Monastery Foundation. LeMuséon 115: 25–55.

Meshcherskaya, E.N. 1987. ‘Pateriki’ v Sir-iiskoi Pis’mennosti. Palestinskii Sbornik29: 22–27.

Mingana, A. 1908. Sources syriaques. Leipzig:Harrassowitz.

Mingana, A. 1926. Early Spread of Christianityin India. Bulletin of the John RylandsUniversity Library 10: 435–514.

Mingana A. (ed. and trans.), 1934. Wood-brooke Studies v. VII: Early ChristianMystics. Cambridge: W. Heffer & SonsLimited.

Mundell Mango, M. 1996. Byzantine MaritimeTrade with the East, (4th–7th Centuries).ARAM 8: 139–163.

Pahlitzsch, J. 2009. Christliche Stiftungen inSyrien und Irak im 7. und 8. Jahrhundert n.Chr. als ein Element der Kontinuitätzwischen Spätantike und Frühislam. Pages39–53 in Meier, A., Pahlitzsch, J. &Reinfandt, L. (eds), Islamische Stiftungenzwischen juristischer Norm und sozialerPraxis (Berlin, Akademie Verlag).

Palmer, A. 1990. Monk and Mason on theTigris Frontier: The Early History of TurcAbdin. Cambridge: University ofCambridge Press.

Papaconstantinou, A. 2008. Between Ummaand Dhimma: The Christians of the MiddleEast under the Umayyads. Annales isla-mologiques 42: 127–156.

Payne, R. 2009. Persecuting Heresy in EarlyIslamic Iraq: The Catholicos Ishoyahb IIIand the Elites of Nisibis. Pages 397–409 inLenski, N. & Cain, A. (eds), The Power ofReligion in Late Antiquity (Aldershot,Ashgate).

Peeters, P. 1920. La légende de saint Jacques deNisibe. Analecta Bollandiana 38: 285–283.

Potts, D.T. 1990. The Arabian Gulf in Antiquity,v. II: From Alexander the Great to theComing of Islam. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Potts, D.T. 1994. Nestorian Crosses from JabalBerri. Arabian archaeology and epigraphy5: 61–65.

Schachner, L.A. 2005. ‘I Greet you and ThyBrethren. Here are Fifteen Šentaese ofWine’: Wine-Production in the EarlyMonasteries of Egypt and the Levant.ARAM 17: 157–184.

Scheidel, W. 1996. Finances, figures andfiction. Classical Quarterly 46: 222–238.

Scher, A. 1911. Histoire nestorienne (Chro-nique de Séert), première partie II. Pages219–344 in Patrologia Orientalis 5 (Paris,Firmin-Didot).

Silverstein, A. 2007. From Markets to Marvels:Jews on the Maritime Route to China ca.850–ca. 950 CE. Journal of Jewish Studies58: 91–104.

Sims-Williams, N. 1985. The Christian Sog-dian Manuscript C2. Berlin: AkademieVerlag.

Sims-Williams, N. 1994. Dādišo‘ Qatrāyā’sCommentary on the Paradise of theFathers. Analecta Bollandiana 112: 33–64.

Steve, M.J. 2003. L’île de Kharg: Une page del’histoire du golfe Persique et du mon-achisme oriental. Neuchâtel: Civilisationsdu Proche-Orient.

Sundermann, W. 2002. Ein sogdisches Frag-ment der Mār-Eugen — Legende. Pages309–311 in Ölmez, M. & Raschmann, S.C.(eds), Splitter aus der Gegend Turfan:Festschrift für Peter Zieme anläßlich seines60. Geburtstags (Istanbul, Şafak Matbaa-cılık).

Takeda, F. 1998. The Syriac Version of the Lifeof Antony: A Meeting Point of EgyptianMonasticism with Syriac Native Asceti-cism. Pages 185–194 in Lavenant, R. (ed.),Symposium Syriacum VII (Rome, PontificioIstituto Orientale).

Tamcke, M. 1988. Der Katholikos-PatriarchSabrīšō’ I. (596–604) und das Mönchtum.Frankfurt: Peter Lang.

Tamcke, M. 2007. Der Patriarch und seinearabische Christen: Die nestorianischenKatholikoi-Patriarchen in ihren Anweisun-gen für Kirchenglieder auf der ArabischenHalbinsel in frühomajadischer Zeit. Pages105–120 in Kreikenbohm, D., Muth, F.C.& Thielmann, J. (eds), Arabische Christen— Christen in Arabien (Frankfurt, PeterLang).

Villagomez, C. 1998. The Fields, Flocks, andFinances of Monks: Economic Life atNestorian Monasteries, 500–850. Unpub-lished PhD thesis. Los Angeles: Universityof Los Angeles.

Vööbus, A. 1958. History of Asceticism in theSyrian Orient: A Contribution to theHistory of Culture in the Near East, v. I:The Origin of Asceticism, Early Monasti-cism in Persia. Louvain: Peeters.

Walker, J. 2006. The Legend of Mar Qardagh:Narrative and Christian Heroism in LateAntique Iraq. Berkeley: University ofCalifornia Press.

Wilkinson, J.C. 1975. The Julanda of Oman.Journal of Oman Studies 1: 97–108.

Wipszycka, E. 1986. Les aspects économiquesde la vie de la communauté des Kellia.Pages 117–144 in Bridel, P. (ed.), Le sitemonastique des Kellia: Sources historiqueset explorations archéologiques (Geneva,Mission suisse de l’archéologie copte).

Wipszycka, E. 1995. Apports de l’archéologie àl’histoire du monachisme égyptien. Pages63–78 in Starowieyski, M. (ed.), TheSpirituality of Ancient Monasticism: Acts of

RICHARD PAYNE

110

the International Colloquium Held inCracow-Tyniec (Krakow, WydawnictwoBenedyktynów).

Wipszycka, E. 1996. Les rapports entre lesmonastères et les laures à la lumière des

fouilles de Naqlun (Fayoum). Pages 373–393 in Wipszycka, E., Études sur lechristianisme dans l’Égypte de l’antiquitétardive (Rome, Institutum PatristicumAugustinianum).

Wipszycka, E. 2005. Le nombre des moinesdans les communautés monastiques d’É-gypte. Journal of Juristic Papyrology 35:265–309.

MONKS, DINARS AND DATE PALMS

111