The Martyrdom of the Three Children Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, as depicted in the manuscript Vatican, BAV gr. 1613 (10th/11th c.), f. 251 (detail), https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ananias,_Azarius_and_Misael_(Menologion_of_Basil_II).jpg . In ancient times, losing one’s head was not an exceptional occurrence. Wars, conflicts of all kinds, and punishments could easily result in death by decapitation. Among those condemned to this type of death, hagiographic texts present the cases of several Christian martyrs. Some of them are said to have benefited from a particular miracle: after their separation, the head and body reunited so perfectly that there was no evidence to suggest that a violent death had occurred.   Heads and bodies miraculously reunited A notable example is the case of the martyr George. According to the oldest text describing his sufferings, written in the 4th or 5th century ( BHG  670a), the saint would have been killed three times by the infidels and then resurrected three times by Christ, before his final death. When George died for the first time, his body would have been cut into ten pieces and thrown into a pit, but Archangel Michael intervened and rebuilt it. Then, Christ restored him to life, just as he had given to Adam.  [1] The legend is preserved in later Coptic tradition, which considers that several martyrs, such as Paphnutius, Lacaron, Anoub, and Philotheus, would have suffered a similar fate. Cut into pieces, they were healed by divine intervention and brought back to life.  [2]   The topic is also present, in another form, in the Martyrdom of the Prophet Daniel and the Three Children Ananias, Azarias, and Misael. The text, probably of Egyptian origin or influence, is attributed to either Athanasius of Alexandria ( BHG 484z-484*) or Cyril of Alexandria ( BHG 487-487a). According to this account, summarized in the Byzantine synaxarion, Daniel and his companions would have been decapitated, but then each head was miraculously reattached to its body.  [3] This time, a resurrection did not take place.   The miracle of the reunification of the head and body after the beheading is found in several geographical areas and at different times. In the Pontus region (Turkey), the Life  of Bishop Basil of Amasea (4th c., April 26, BHG  239) tells how the head and body of the saint were perfectly reunited in the sea, where they had been thrown.  [4] An   identical story is included in the Life of Fabius of Caesarea (Mauretania, 4th c., BHL  2818).  [5] According to the legend of Chrysogonus of Aquileia (province of Udine, Italy, 4th c., BHL  1795), it was a priest named Zoilus who found the remains of the martyr and miraculously reunited them.  [6] As   for Bishop Herculanus of Perugia (6th c.), when the faithful exhumed his relics forty days after his beheading, they discovered the head perfectly welded to the body. According to the testimony of Pope Gregory I, his head was united to the body as if it had never been severed, and indeed there was no apparent trace of severance.   [7] According to a story preserved in several ancient languages, the head of Paul the Apostle would have been discovered by a shepherd, placed near the feet of Paul’s remains, and then miraculously reunited with the rest of the body. The legend is included in the Georgian and Latin versions of the Letter of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite to Timothy ( CANT  197, BHL  6671), translations of a lost Greek source,  [8] as well as in several Syriac texts.  [9] A somewhat different variant is found in the Middle Irish version of Pseudo-Marcellus’s Acts of Peter and Paul ; it   is said that Paul’s head remained in a lake near the site of the beheading for forty years before being discovered.  [10]   A universal myth For medieval man, the success of this legendary tale is easily explained by its attractive and reassuring message: the beheading of saints did not prevent the later reunification of the head with the body and, eventually, their joint resurrection. Moreover, the legend offered the faithful the opportunity to venerate the body in its entirety and, to a certain extent, prevented the fragmentation of relics.   The legend is not limited to the Christian sphere. According to the Pyramid Texts  (ca. 24th-20th c. BC), the Egyptian god Osiris was killed and cut into pieces by his brother Seth, but later was found, recomposed, and resurrected by his sister and wife Isis.  [11] In the Greek pantheon, the god Dionysos suffered the same fate: torn to pieces by the Titans, his remains were first gathered up either by his mother Demeter or by his brother Apollo, and then brought back to life.  [12] According to Hindu myths preserved in the Mahabharata (ca. 3rd c. BC-3rd CE), after her beheading, Renouka, the mother of Parashurama (the sixth avatar of the god Vishnu), was brought back to life. Later legends transformed Renouka into a goddess whose body was accidentally united not with her head, but with that of another person,  [13] a tradition that probably inspired Marguerite Yourcenar in her tale Kali beheaded .  [14] In fact, the legend particularises a universal myth that affirms the superiority of life over death. The Christian tradition, which took up and developed this legend, also included it in the Lives of the cephalophore saints (who are said to have carried their heads in their hands after decapitation).   [1]  K. Krumbacher, Der heilige Georg in der griechischen Überlieferung  (Abhandlungen der königlich bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-philologische und historiche Klasse, 25.3), Munich, 1911, p. 3‑16, at 6. See also Nikolaos Kälviäinen, The Greek Martyrdom of George, The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity ,  http://csla.history.ox.ac.uk/record.php?recid=E06147 ; E. A.   Wallis Budge, The Martyrdom and Miracles of Saint George of Cappadocia , London, 1888, p.   203‑235, at 212‑213 (English translation of the Coptic version). BHG  refers to Bibliotheca Hgiographica Graeca . [2]  J.-M. Sauget, Paphnuzio di Denderah, in Bibliotheca Sanctorum , 10, Rome, 1968, col. 29-35; T. Orlandi, Lacaron, saint, in The   Coptic Encyclopedia , 5, New York, 1991, p. 1423‑1424; Idem, Anub, saint, in The Coptic Encyclopedia , 1, p. 152; A. Rogozhina, “And from his side came blood and milk”: The   Martyrdom of St Philotheus of Antioch in Coptic Egypt and Beyond (Gorgias Eastern Christian Studies, 52), Piscataway (NJ), 2019, p. 355‑356. [3] H. Delehaye, Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae , Acta Sanctorum Propylaeum Novembris , Brussels, 1902, col. 319.23‑24. [4]   Acta Sanctorum April , III, p. xlii‑xlvi, at xlv, Paris, 1866 (§19). [5]  G. Eldarov, Fabio il Vessillifero, in   Bibliotheca Sanctorum , 5, Rome, 1964, col. 430. BHL  refers to Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina . [6] P. F. Moretti, La Passio Anastasiae. Introduzione, testo critico, traduzione , Rome, 2006, p. 120‑123, English trans. M. Lapidge, The Roman Martyrs  (Oxford Early Christian Studies), Oxford, 2018, p. 69‑70 (§9); M. Pignot, The Latin Martyrdom of Anastasia and Companions, The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity , http://csla.history.ox.ac.uk/record.php?recid=E02482 . [7] A. de Vogüé (ed.) - P. Antin (trans.), Grégoire Ier, Dialogues , §3.13 (Sources chrétiennes, 260), Paris, 1979, p. 302‑303. See E. Bozoky, Têtes coupées des saints au Moyen Âge. Martyrs, miracles, reliques, dans Babel. Littératures plurielle , 42 (2020), p. 133‑168, https://journals.openedition.org/babel/11516?lang=fr . [8]  C. Macé, La lettre de Denys l’Aréopagite à Timothée sur la mort des apôtres Pierre et Paul. L’apport de la version géorgienne, in   Apocrypha , 31 (2020), p. 61‑104, at 94‑97; D. L. Eastman, Epistle of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite to Timothy, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/epistle-of-pseudo-dionysius-the-areopagite-to-timothy . CANT  refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . [9] J. A. Doole, The miracle of the Apostle’s re-attaching head, in Apocrypha , 30 (2019), p. 87‑106, at 94‑101. [10]  R. Atkinson, The Passions and the Homilies from Leabhar Breac , Dublin 1887, p. 86‑95, at 93, trans. 329‑339, at 337. [11]  J. P. Allen, The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts , §364, 616a, Atlanta (GE), 2005, p. 80; §606, 1684a-c, trans. p. 226; §670, 1981b-c, trans. p. 267. Cf. B. Mathieu, Mais qui est donc Osiris ? Ou la politique sous le linceul de la religion, in Égypte Nilotique et Méditerranéenne , 3 (2010), p. 77‑107, at 103. See also Plutarque, Œuvres morales , §23, Isis et Osiris , ed. and trans. C. Froidefond, Paris, 1988. [12]  Diodorus of Sicily, The Library of History , §3.62.6, trans. C. H. Oldfather, vol. 2, p. 286-287, https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.279944/page/n295/mode/2up ; Lycophronis,  Alexandra , vol. 2, Scholia, §207, ed. E. Scheer, Berlin, 1908, p. 97. [13] J. Assayag, La colère de la déesse décapitée. Traditions, cultes et pouvoir dans le sud de l’Inde , Paris, 1992; A. Jaganathan, Yellamma Cult and Divine Prostitution: Its Historical and Cultural Background, in International Journal of Scientific and Research Publications , 3.4 (2013), https://www.ijsrp.org/research-paper-0413/ijsrp-p1681.pdf . [14] M. Yourcenar, Kali décapitée, in   Nouvelles orientales , Paris, 1938, http://www.cidmy.be/images/stories/pdf/kali_decapitee.pdf  (first version, 1928), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNCqRJ1Y-2s  (audio).

The synaxarion of Pope Gregory I in the manuscript Sinai Gr. 548 (10th c.), f. 142r, https://www.loc.gov/resource/amedmonastery.00279380745-ms/?sp=145&st=single (Washington, Library of Congress) Pope Gregory I of Rome (590–604) is known in the Christian East primarily for associating his name with the Liturgy of the presanctified gifts. During Lent, this particular liturgy is celebrated on weekdays, from Monday to Friday. Improperly called a liturgy, it actually takes place as an extended ritual of communion with the gifts already consecrated during the liturgy of the previous Sunday. The attribution of this incomplete liturgy to Pope Gregory is one of the curiosities of Eastern tradition. On the one hand, the liturgical ritual specific to the days of the weeks of Lent certainly predates Gregory’s time. On the other hand, the Pope’s knowledge of Greek was limited. Although he lived for several years in Constantinople as a special envoy (apocrisiarius) of Pope Pelagius II (579–590) to the imperial court, nothing in Gregory’s writings shows his integration into the Greek cultural environment. A Latin pope could not have written the text of a Greek liturgy. The synaxarion of Pope Gregory I How, then, can we explain the attribution of the Liturgy of the presanctified to Pope Gregory? The oldest document establishing a particular connection in this regard is a Greek manuscript from the 10th century, now preserved in the Monastery of Saint Catherine at Mount Sinai, [1] which includes short biographies of saints, generally called synaxaria. The synaxarion concerning Pope Gregory is found in another manuscript from the same period (10th/11th century), the so-called typicon-synaxarion of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. [2] Both documents contain the following information: It is said that [Gregory] was the one who ordered the Romans to celebrate the complete liturgy on fast days, as they observe it to this day. The text refers to a tradition that was respected by the Latins in Rome. Indeed, the Latin liturgy of the presanctified gifts was little used, being celebrated only on Good Friday. On the other days of Lent, the Latins always used the same (complete) liturgy they celebrated throughout the year. The synaxarion, therefore, does not mention a Byzantine custom. But this brief note is the source of the confusion and reinterpretations that followed. How did this information appear in the synaxarion? It must be said that the synaxaria were written as summaries of the Lives of the saints, longer and more elaborate texts that already existed. In the case of Gregory’s synaxarion, the biography used as a source was a Life  of the Pope written in Greek in Rome before the middle of the 9th century. The text, preserved only in its Georgian version, [3] is one of the two oldest documents that include the mysterious legend of Emperor Trajan (98–117), used in Byzantium to fabricate the legend of Emperor Theophilos (813–842) and the Sunday of Orthodoxy . In relation to this Life , Gregory’s synaxarion adds, at the end of the text, two pieces of information not mentioned in other documents: one concerning the complete liturgy celebrated on fast days in Rome, an unusual custom for the Byzantines and another concerning the annual pilgrimage that the Anglo-Saxons made to Rome to the tomb of Pope Gregory. These additional notes are either the observations of a Greek visiting Rome or information transmitted to Constantinople by someone familiar with Roman customs. The fact that Gregory’s synaxarion mentions the Latin tradition of celebrating the complete liturgy on fast days does not appear to have interested or scandalized the Byzantines for several centuries. The text was copied unchanged into numerous other manuscripts. However, after a while, the Byzantines realized that this information lent greater authority to a Latin custom they did not follow. Moreover, Gregory’s association with a criticized Latin custom had become less convenient in the context of the antagonism between West and East, which had become more evident since the 11th century. The complete liturgy used by the Latins during fasting appeared on the lists of numerous errors that the Byzantines reproached Westerners for. Therefore, copyists and/or sponsors of synaxaria have attempted to alter the authentic text to suit their own purposes. A 12th-century manuscript, for example, contains a synaxarion of Gregory that includes, in addition to the original, a single word, a negation, which completely changes the meaning of the statement: Pope Gregory would be the one who decided that the Romans should not  celebrate the complete liturgy on fast days. [4] Another manuscript from the same period eliminates the references to the Romans; it states that Gregory ordered the liturgy to be celebrated during Lent without explaining what type of liturgy it was. [5] However, the most successful modification, which was followed by all printed editions of the synaxarion, was the elimination of the word “complete” from the original statement. Indeed, the new text no longer presented any danger since, in liturgical language, the word “complete” differentiates between the ordinary liturgy and the incomplete one of the presanctified gifts. The synaxarion, still in use, only states that Gregory ordered the Romans to celebrate the liturgy on fast days, which has been interpreted as a reference to the liturgy of the presanctified, to which the Byzantines were accustomed. Moreover, because the Byzantines considered themselves Romans as descendants and successors of ancient Rome, it was concluded that the new text did not refer to the Latins, but to the Greeks. The confusion deliberately provoked became a rule for later generations, who considered Gregory the author of the Byzantine liturgy of the presanctified.   A forger in the 13th century Who, and in what context, modified the ancient synaxarion in the interest of the Byzantines? The answer is found in a short treatise commonly titled On the Liturgy of the presanctified gifts , attested in manuscripts as early as the 14th century. [6] The treatise is addressed to the Byzantine Emperor and artificially attributed to a Patriarch Michael. The text is a plea for the antiquity of the Byzantine liturgy of the presanctified, which the author considers to have been written by Patriarch Athanasius of Alexandria (4th century) and popularized by Pope Gregory. Regarding this last point, the author notes: In many of our books, it is said that Saint Gregory the Dialogue ordered this mystagogy to be celebrated among the Romans during the holy and propitiatory days of the quarantine, as is still done in ancient Rome. The striking similarity between this treatise and the modified synaxarion leads to the idea that both texts belong to the same Byzantine group interested in promoting local traditions and combating the errors of the Latins. To a certain extent, the author of the treatise on the liturgy of the presanctified gifts can be identified through several internal and external analysis criteria. On the one hand, the text cannot belong to any of the four Patriarchs Michael before the 14th century since it would have been cited and used in subsequent synodal decisions. On the other hand, the treatise’s author speaks out against the fast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary (August 1–15), which was not definitively accepted in Constantinople and on Mount Athos until the end of the 14th century. Finally, the treatise on the liturgy of the presanctified must be linked to a fictional dialogue between Emperor Manuel Komnenos (1143–1180) and Patriarch Michael III Anchialos (1170–1178), disseminated by anti-unionist circles in the context of the Unionist Council of Lyon (1274) and the anti-Latin agitation it provoked. In this imaginary conversation, entitled Dialogue on the Union of Latins and Greeks , the Patriarch convinces the Emperor of the errors of the Westerners. [7] In turn, the dialogue is closely linked to a Letter  from the monks of Athos to the Synod of Constantinople [8] dated 1275. The author of the letter mentions the dialogue as a model of the attitude a Patriarch should have towards the Emperor.   The treatise on the Liturgy of the presanctified gifts and the amended synaxarion belong to this polemical context of the second half of the 13th century. Because the Eastern liturgical books provided the Latins with helpful information on the celebration of the liturgy on fast days, Byzantine theologians and/or anti-unionist monks from Athos decided to give it a new meaning. Gregory thus transformed himself from the legislator of the complete liturgy in Rome into the author of the Liturgy of the presanctified in Constantinople. Subsequent generations accepted the falsified text of the synaxarion and promoted it as a tradition that was difficult to dispute.  [9]   [1] Sinai Gr. 548 (10th c.), f. 142r–143v, https://pinakes.irht.cnrs.fr/notices/cote/58923/  (no. diktyon 58923), open access: https://www.loc.gov/item/00279380745-ms . [2] Jerusalem, Timiou Stavrou 40 (10th/11th c.), f. 112r–113r, https://pinakes.irht.cnrs.fr/notices/cote/35936/  (no. diktyon 35936), open acces: https://www.loc.gov/item/00279395633-jo . [3] B. Martin-Hisard, L’ange et le pape : le témoin géorgien d’une Vie grecque perdue de Grégoire le Grand, in O. Delouis et al. (ed.), Le saint, le moine et le paysan. Mélanges d’histoire byzantine offerts à Michel Kaplan  (Byzantina Sorbonensia, 29), Paris, 2016, p. 457–502, https://books.openedition.org/psorbonne/37705 . [4] Milan, Ambrosiana Q.40.sup. (12th c.), f. 136v–137r, https://pinakes.irht.cnrs.fr/notices/cote/43150/  (no. diktyon 43150). [5] Berlin, Phillipps 1622 (219) (12th/13th c., no. diktyon 9524), cf. H. Delehaye (ed.), Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, Acta Sanctorum Propylaeum Novembris , Bruxelles, 1902, col. 531–532. [6] The text was published by M. Gedeon, Ἀρχείον Ἐκκλησιαστικής Ἱστορίας , Constantinople, 1911, p. 31–35. [7] The text was published in V. Laurent – J. Darrouzès, Dossier grec de l’Union de Lyon (1273–1277)  (Archives de l’Orient chrétien, 16), Paris, 1976, p. 45–52; 346–375. See also Repertorium Auctorum Polemicorum , no. 4482, https://apps.unive.it/project/rap/visualizza/g4482 . [8] Laurent – Darrouzès, Dossier grec , p. 52–59 ; 404–423. [9] See also S. Alexopoulos, The Presanctified Liturgy in the Byzantine Rite: A Comparative Analysis of Its Origins, Evolution, and Structural Components , Leuven, 2009, p. 47–55; S. Parenti, A Oriente e Occidente di Constantinopoli , Vatican, 2010, p. 75–87; D. Oltean, Le pape Grégoire Ier, l’absolution de l’empereur Théophile et la liturgie byzantine des présanctifiés, in Ostkirchliche Studien , 72.2 (2023), p. 311–338.

The translation of Josaphat’s relics by King Barachiah, as depicted in the manuscript Los Angeles, Getty Museum, Ludwig XV 9 (15th c.), f. 375, https://www.getty.edu/art/collection/object/103SC6 Tales, like proverbs, have always traveled, knowing no borders. It is the case of an ancient Indian legend that, transformed into an edifying tale and then a hagiographic text, enjoyed great success in the Middle Ages. From the 11th century, its hero, the Hindu prince Siddhartha Gautama, entered the Georgian (May 19), Greek (August 26), Latin (November 27), Slavic, and Romanian (November 19) calendars, under the name of Josaphat.   A legend of Oriental origin and   its   transmission to   Byzantium According to legend, Siddhartha Gautama was born as the son of the king of Kapilavastu, in northern India. Raised in luxury and surrounded by pleasures, the prince apparently did not know the sadness of the world until he successively encountered an older man, a cripple, and a dead man. Having become aware of the vicissitudes of the human condition, Siddhartha abandoned his wife and child to lead a life of wandering following a fourth encounter, this time with an ascetic. Having attained the perfect knowledge of all things and surrounded by many disciples attracted by his teachings, the prince is said to have ended his life at the age of eighty. The legend, known in its broad outlines by the 2nd century BC at the latest, is preserved in sacred texts in several Indian languages (Pali, Sanskrit, Prakrit) from the 2nd to 4th centuries AD.  [1]   Later, the text was enriched with numerous parables (such as the parable of the man chased by the unicorn ) and wisdom stories from different cultures. First, either directly or through the languages ​​of Central Asia, the tale was translated into Pahlavi (Middle Persian). In turn, the new version served as a source for Arabic translations, starting in the 8th century. The Arabic text was adapted to the local religious context. The spiritual path of the prince, now known as Budhasaf, became a conversion from idolatry to an ascetic religion not well-defined, but monotheistic. The ascetic briefly encountered by Prince Siddhartha is transformed into a key figure, named Bilawhar, who guides the prince to perfection.  [2]   One of the Arabic versions led to the translation of the text into Georgian in the 9th century, probably in Palestine. Compared to the Arabic version, the Georgian text adds or modifies several elements: the prince’s father becomes a pagan king who persecutes Christians; the monk who gains the prince’s trust teaches him the Christian faith; like the prince, his father also converted to Christianity; upon the latter’s death, the prince leaves the kingdom to his friend Barachiah and joins the monk in the desert, where both end their lives in holiness.  [3]   Finally, the Georgian text was translated into Greek in the late 10th or early 11th century by Euthymios the Athonite, the abbot of the Iviron Monastery. The translator altered the narrative by adding numerous biblical and patristic quotations, as well as an apologetic text written by the philosopher Aristides of Athens (2nd century).  [4] The Greek text served as the source for the first Latin translation, made in Constantinople in the mid-11th century.  [5]   Prince Siddhartha Gautama, better known as Buddha, meaning “the awakened one,” as his disciples called him, thus entered Christian worship. In the original story, the hero is referred to, in Sanskrit and Pali, as Bodhisattva, which means “one who desires/is in the process of achieving enlightenment.” This name later became Budhasf/Budhasaf/Yudasaf in Arabic, Iodasaph in Georgian, Ioasaph in Greek, and Josaphat in Latin. A similar transformation led to the name Barlaam, the spiritual master who is said to have guided Josaphat.  [6]   The relics of   Prince   Siddhartha/Buddha/Saint Josaphat in   Antwerp According to the Georgian, Greek, and Latin versions of the novel, after Josaphat’s death, King Barachiah went into the desert and found his body incorrupt. He took the relics with all the honors and placed them in a golden shrine, with those of Barlaam. The faithful came in large numbers to venerate the relics, and miracles soon began to occur. A church was then built over the tombs of the two saints.  [7]   These indications, apparently accurate, have inspired the false idea that the tale is real, Saint Josaphat protects us from above, and his relics truly exist. Some have even found them! Thus, in 1672, the remains of Josaphat are attested in a group of 36 relics belonging to the Cistercian monastery of Saint-Saviour in Antwerp, led at that time by Abbot François Diericx (1668-1688). According to documents of dubious authenticity, most of the relics belonged to the kings of Portugal and were offered in 1633 to Abbot Christophe Butkens (1631-1650). The gift is said to have been mediated by Dionysius, a monk at Saint-Saviour and son of King Anthony, the last Portuguese sovereign before the Spanish conquest of 1580. In this group of relics, those of Josaphat are said to have been offered by Doge Alvise I Mocenigo (1570-1571) of Venice to King Sebastian I of Portugal (1557-1578) in 1571.  [8] After the closure of the Abbey of Saint-Saviour, the reliquary was transferred to the Church of Saint Andrew in Antwerp, where it is preserved and venerated to this day.   [1] Aśvahghoṣa, The Buddhacarita , ed. and trans. E. H. Johnston, Delhi, 1972. [2] Le Livre de Bilawhar et Būḏāsf selon la version arabe ismaélienne , ed. D. Gimaret, Geneva, 1971. [3] D. M. Lang, The Balavariani (Barlaam and Josaphat): A Tale from the Christian East Translated from the Old Georgian , Los Angeles, 1966 (extended version); D. M. Lang, The Wisdom of Balahvar (A Christian Legend of the Buddha) , London, 1957; A. Mahé – J.-P. Mahé, La   sagesse de Balahvar. Une vie christianisée du Bouddha , Paris, 1993, p. 144 (short version). [4] R. Volk, Die Schriften des Johannes von Damaskos, VI/2: Historia animae utilis de Barlaam et Ioasaph (spuria)  (Patristische Texte und Studien, 60), Berlin, 2006, trans. G. R. Woodward – H. Mattingly, John Damascene, Barlaam and Ioasaph  (Loeb Classical Library, 34), Cambridge (MA), 1967 (1914). See also R. Volk, From the Desert to the Holy Mountain: The Beneficial Story of Barlaam and Ioasaph, in C. Cupane – B. Krönung (ed.), Fictional Storytelling in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean and Beyond (Brill’s Companions to the Byzantine World, 1), Leiden, 2016, p. 401-426. [5] J. Martínez Gázquez, Hystoria Barlae et Iosaphat (Bibl. Nacional de Nápoles VIII.B.10) (Nueva Roma, 5), Madrid, 1997. [6] A similar fate befell the book of fables known as Kalila and Dimna  or The Fables of Bidpai . The fables, originating from texts of Indian origin ( Panchatantra , Mahabharata , etc.), were translated from one language to another almost along the same route and at the same time intervals: into Pahlavi in ​​the 6th century, into Arabic in the 8th century, and finally into Greek in the 11th century (this time under the name Stephanites and Ichnelates ). As for the Book of Sinbad/Syntipas the Philosopher  (known in the West as The Romance of the Seven Sages ), of Indian or Persian origin, it was translated into Greek in the 11th century from a Syriac text, which most likely came from an Arabic source. [7] Georgian extended version, §68, trans. Lang, p. 180, https://archive.org/details/LangBalavariani/page/n173/mode/1up ; Georgian short version, trans. Lang, p. 122, trans. Mahé – Mahé, p. 144; Greek version, §40, ed. Volk, p. 402-404, trans. Woodward – Mattingly, p. 607-609, https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.232211/page/607/mode/1up . [8]   Acta Sanctorum Apr. , I, 74D; 889E, Paris, 1866; Oct. , IV, 260C, Paris, 1866.

R. Magritte, Le château des Pyrénées  (1959), Israel Museum, Jerusalem, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rene_Magritte_-_The_Castle_of_the_Pyrenees.jpg . Throughout history, humankind has sought to understand the world and explore the Earth to its furthest boundaries. In the medieval Christian imagination, this natural curiosity was intertwined with the desire to visit, or at least identify, the Paradise, imagined as a physical space situated at the edge of the world. Consequently, Byzantine hagiography contains unusual tales that, with the charm of folk stories, narrate the adventures and discoveries of monks who supposedly travelled to the ends of the Earth. Even though some of these monks, such as Macarios the Roman, were included in the Byzantine calendar, their travel journals are merely literary fantasies intended to satisfy the religious interests of their time. The authors drew heavily on the Romance  of Alexander the Great, one of the most widely read texts throughout the Mediterranean during the Middle Ages.       Journeys to the ends of the Earth in Byzantine hagiography Makarios the Roman is a relatively little-known saint, celebrated on October 23.  [1]  His Life ( BHG  1104-1005i) is a complex narrative, written around the 5th/6th century. Its first part describes the journey of the monks Theophilus, Sergius, and Hygienos to the end of the world. Setting out from Mesopotamia, they travel eastward, passing successively through the lands of the Androgynes, the Cynocephali (dog-headed men), and the Pygmies. The monks also encounter fabulous creatures such as the unicorn (a legendary animal with a single horn) and the onocentaur (an animal with the head and torso of a man and the body of a donkey). From afar, the travellers gaze first upon the eternal pit for sinners and then the realms of the righteous and the fountain of Immortality. At the end of their journey, at the edge of the Earth, they find Makarios, who lived naked in a cave only 20 miles from Paradise.  [2]   The author of the Life of Makarios drew inspiration from the Alexander Romance , a work that blends historical facts and legends about the emperor Alexander the Great (356-323 BC). The earliest version of the text dates back to at least the 3rd century. According to this account, Alexander also travels beyond the limits of the known world, crossing the lands of the Cynocephali and the Pygmies, and encountering unicorns and centaurs. Like the three monks, Alexander arrives at the source of the water of Life, but he does not recognise it. At the border between the human world and the realm of spirits, the emperor builds an arch on which he inscribes advice on the path to follow.  [3]  This last element is relevant to the later use of the text, since in the Life  of Makarios, the three monks arrive at this arch and read Alexander’s inscription.  [4]     A text comparable to the Life  of Makarios is the Account of the life of the Blessed  by the monk Zosimos ( BHG  1889-1890f, CAVT  166), which may date to the 5th or 6th century. According to this narrative, Zosimos travels to the place where “the Blessed” or “the Rechabites” lived, the descendants of Rechab whom the prophet Jeremiah had praised for their ascetic lives several centuries earlier (Jer. 35:1-19). After a miraculous crossing of a great river, Zosimos encounters the Blessed, who lived naked amidst paradisiacal nature and prayed constantly. The trees provided them with food every day, except during Lent, when they received heavenly manna. Families had only two children, one destined for marriage and the other for virginity. The members of this utopian community lived between 300 and 700 years.  [5]   In this narrative, the motif of the naked man living like in Paradise at the end of the world echoes not only the Life  of Makarios, whose name means “blessed,” but also the Alexander Romance . According to legend, in India, the emperor met the gymnosophists, the naked sages, also known as the Brahmans. They lived for 150 years and had two children, one to replace the father and the other the mother. These Hindu sages are sometimes confused with “the Blessed Ones” and placed on one or more paradisiacal islands at the eastern edge of the world.  [6]  In other instances, the Blessed Ones and the Brahmans formed two distinct categories, as in a 4th-century Account of the Whole World and its Peoples , but their countries remained the two regions of the world closest to Paradise.  [7] In any case, in Zosimos’s narrative, the Rechabites are simply the Christian version of the gymnosophists, a much older literary model.   Byzantine authors thus appear to have been quite familiar with the place of the Blessed. According to the Acts of Matthew in the city of the Blessed  ( CANT  268), the apostle visited this land where the inhabitants breathed the fragrance of Paradise and drank water that flowed from the garden of Eden.  [8]  The exact location of the city has not yet been revealed. However, according to the Syrian monk Agapios, who also described his journey to Paradise ( BHG  2017), the isle of the Blessed was surrounded by walls that reached to the sky. Nearby was the fountain of Immortality, accessible only to the apostles and the righteous. For Agapios, the island thus became a place of eternal rest for humans after their death.  [9]   The myth of Paradise Lost All these Byzantine legends sought, in fact, to maintain readers’ interest in Paradise and lost eternal life. However, this motif is very ancient. Long before Makarios and Alexander, in Sumerian mythology, King Gilgamesh (3rd millennium BCE) also travels to the ends of the Earth in search of a cure for death. After meeting a “blessed” man who lived on an island surrounded by the waters of Death, Gilgamesh manages to collect the plant of Youth, even though he will not be able to keep it for long.  [10]  In a similar Mesopotamian legend, the mythical king Etana, who had no children, ascends to Paradise to obtain the herb of Life.  [11]   According to Taoist tradition, the “immortals” ( xian ) already enjoy paradisiacal life in their abode, located in the Eastern Sea, on the Isles of the Blessed. Envious, the early emperors of the Qin and Han dynasties (3rd-2nd centuries BCE) are said to have organised missions to this distant land, but no one returned with the elixir of youth.  [12]  As for Hindu mythology, it places the Isle of the Blessed, called Svetadvipa, to the north, in the region of the sacred mountain Meru. According to the Mahabharata  (Shantiparvan, §337) (c. 3rd century BCE-3rd century CE), the island would be a paradisiacal space where people live in great happiness longer than ordinary mortals and dedicate their existence to God alone.  [13]   In Greek mythology, Heracles journeys to a divine garden at the edge of the world to obtain the golden apples guarded by a hundred-headed dragon. Later, this garden of the Hesperides was believed to be located at the westernmost edge of the known world, in the Atlantic Ocean.  [14]  The Isles of the Blessed were not far away. According to Pindar (6th-5th century BC) and later authors, followed by the monk Agapios, their role was not to house utopian communities, but to receive heroes, sages, and virtuous souls after their death.  [15]   The geography of Paradise and the Isles of the Blessed remains, therefore, fluid. Throughout history, the location of the earthly Paradise has shifted several times, reflecting the religious and social functions that different ethnic groups wished to assign to it. For the Byzantines, Paradise lay to the east, but Christopher Columbus, upon reaching the Orinoco estuary, was convinced he had discovered one of the four rivers that flow from Paradise. This cultural diversity, however, never prevented false prophets from believing that one day, Paradise on Earth can and must be visited by all.  [16]   [1]  H. Delehaye, Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, Acta Sanctorum Propylaeum Novembris , Bruxelles, 1902, col. 160.37. See also Vatican, BAV gr. 1613 (10 e /11 e  s.), p. 334, cf.  PG , 117, col. 268 (January 19). [2] S. Papaioannou (ed. et trad.), Life of Makarios the Roman, in Saints at the Limits: Seven Byzantine Popular Legends  (Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library, 78), Cambridge (MA), 2023, p. 78‑127 (§7-8, land of the Androgynes; §9, land of the Cynocephali; §10, unicorn and unocentaur; §14-17, places of the sinners; §19, places of the blessed; §20, Pygmies).  BHG  refers to Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca .  [3] The Greek Alexander Romance , trans. R. Stoneman, London, 1991, p. 146 (§3.28, land of the Cynocephali); 125 (§2.44, land of the Pygmies); 184 (§3.17, unicorns); 124 (§2.41, centaurs); 121 (§2.39, water of Life); 122 (§2.41, ark of Alexander). [4] Papaioannou, Life of Makarios the Roman, p. 88-89 (§12). [5] J. H. Charlesworth (ed. and trans.), The History of the Rechabites, I: The   Greek Recension , Chico (CA), 1982.  CAVT  refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Veteris Testamenti .  [6]   The Greek Alexander Romance , p. 121 (§2.40) ; 131-133 (§3.5-6) ; 179 (§2.35) ; Pseudo-Palladius, On the Life of the Brahmans, trans. R. Stoneman, Legends of Alexander the Great , London, 2012, p. 35-38 (§1.4-14). See C. Jouanno, Des Gymnosophistes aux Réchabites : une utopie antique et sa christianisation, in L’antiquité classique , 79 (2010), p. 53-76, https://www.persee.fr/doc/antiq_0770-2817_2010_num_79_1_3982 . [7]   Expositio totius mundi et gentium , ed. and trans. J. Rougé (Sources chrétiennes, 124), Paris, 1966, p. 142-149 (§4-8); 350-351; 356. [8] J.-N. Pérès (trans.), Actes de Matthieu dans la ville de Kahnat, in P. Geoltrain – J.‑D. Kaestli (ed.), Écrits apocryphes chrétiens , vol. 2, Paris, 2005, p. 910-913. CANT refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . [9]  R. Pope (ed. and trans.), The Greek Text of “The Narration of Our Pious Father Agapios the Syrian”, in  Cyrillomethodianum , 8-9 (1984-1985), p. 233-260. See C. Cupane, The Heavenly City: Religious and Secular Visions of the Other World in Byzantine Literature, in C. Angelidi – G.   T.   Calofonos (ed.), Dreaming in Byzantium and Beyond , London, 2014, p. 53-68; D. Penskaya, Hagiography and Fairytale. Paradise and the Land of the Blessed in Byzantium, in A. Rigo et al. (ed.), Byzantine Hagiography: Texts, Themes & Projects  (Byzantioς. Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 13), Turnhout, 2018, p. 141-155. [10]  A. R. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic , Oxford, 2003, vol. 1, p. 686-725 (§10-11). [11] J. V. Kinnier Wilson (ed. and trans.), The Legend of Etana: A New Edition , Warminster, 1985, p. 118-123. [12]  D. Holzman, Immortality-Seeking in Early Chinese Poetry, in W. J. Peterson et al (ed.), The Power of Culture: Studies in Chinese Cultural History , Hong Kong, 1994, p. 103-118; Z. Kirkova, Roaming into the Beyond: Representations of Xian  Immortality in Early Medieval Chinese Verse  (Sinica Leidensia, 129), Leiden, 2016, p. 14-42; 160-202. [13]  K. Rönnow, Some Remarks on Śvetadvīpa, in Bulletin of the School of Oriental Studies , 5.2 (1929), p. 253-284. [14] Pliny, Natural History , §19.22.2, ed. and trans. H. Rackham et al. (Loeb Classical Library), vol. 5, Cambridge (MA), 1961, p. 460-461. [15] The Geography of Strabo , §3.2.13, ed. and trans. H. L. Jones (Loeb Classical Library), vol. 2, Cambridge (MA), 1949, p. 52-57.  [16] M. Eliade, Traité d’histoire des religions , Paris, 1949, p. 169-170; 246-252; 316-324; 361-363; U. Eco, The Book of Legendary Lands , trans. A. McEwen, London, 2013, p. 145-181.

The capture of a unicorn, miniature in the manuscript Oxford, Bodl. 533  (13th c.), f. 3r, © Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, CC BY-NC 4.0, https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/objects/36652b63-d9b1-4480-a88b-769d558bf238/surfaces/6b403dae-4c5f-481c-9fd6-7089e4684a16 . Human imagination builds its most beautiful sandcastles on realities it cannot verify. This is the case with the legend of the unicorn, which centers on a fabulous animal everyone has imagined in their own way. Over time, the unicorn transformed from a rhinoceros-like creature into a diaphanous horse with an enormous horn on its head. The Byzantines never doubted the existence of this being. The repeated mention of the unicorn in the Greek version of the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms, reinforced this conviction. They considered the unicorn either a terrifying creature that, like death, constantly threatens human life, or a very powerful and pure animal, comparable to Christ, which only the intercession of a virgin can capture. Several Byzantine artists drew inspiration from this multifaceted legend to decorate the religious books of their time.   The evil power of the unicorn The unicorn first appears in Greek texts with Ctesias (5th-4th c. BC), physician at the court of the Persian king Artaxerxes II (404-358 BC). In his description of India, Ctesias likely confuses the unicorn with the rhinoceros and considers it a kind of wild ass with a beautiful horn on its head. According to him, the unicorn is not easily caught, but fights to the death; its horn possesses thaumaturgical properties.: Ctesias says that in India, there are wild asses as large as horses and even larger; they have white bodies, purple heads, and dark blue eyes. This animal has a horn in the middle of its forehead; it measures a cubit. […] Those who have drunk from these horns (for they are used as drinking vessels) are said to be immune to convulsions and the high sickness, and even poisons cannot harm them.   [1] The confusion between the unicorn and the rhinoceros or some other very powerful animal persisted throughout Antiquity. Furthermore, the unicorn’s appearance became even more imprecise due to its repeated mention in the Greek translation of the Old Testament. In the Septuagint, the term monokeros  (μονόκερως), meaning “one-horned animal,” replaced the Hebrew word re’em , which normally meant “wild ox” or “buffalo.” Thus artificially introduced into everyday Christian language, the unicorn was imagined in various, often contradictory, ways.     The oldest representation of the unicorn closely resembles the wild nature of the rhinoceros. Because of its power, the unicorn is compared to the lion, with which it is paralleled in Psalm 21, 22: Save me from the mouth of the lion, deliver my humility from the horns of the unicorns  (σῶσόν με ἐκ στόματος λέοντος καὶ ἀπὸ κεράτων μονοκερώτων  τὴν ταπείνωσίν μου). According to the Alexander Romance , a work that blends historical facts and fantastical tales about the emperor Alexander the Great (356-323 BC), the unicorn is larger than an elephant and capable of killing twenty-six men with a single blow. According to a hagiographic text dedicated to Makarios the Roman, a saint celebrated on October 23 ( BHG  1104-1005i), three monks on a journey to the terrestrial Paradise encounter unicorns and other fantastic animals at the ends of the earth.  [2]   The destructive power of this ferocious animal led Christian commentators to consider the unicorn a symbol of evil. According to Eusebius of Caesarea, unicorns are adversaries of God, since they oppose the righteous. According to Augustine, unicorns symbolize the darkness of this world and the pride that leads humankind to make bad choices. For Euthymios Zigabenos (11th-12th c.), unicorns represent the Jews, the adversaries of Christians. According to a short protective prayer attributed to Christ on the cross, included in a 6th/7th-century Coptic manuscript ( London, British Library Or. 6796(4) + 6796 ), the unicorn even became the guardian of the afterlife. Surprised to find itself powerless before the crucified Christ, the unicorn learns His true nature and flees, defeated, from Him.  [3]   The parable of   the   man pursued by   the   unicorn   This negative interpretation of the unicorn reached its peak in an apologue that enjoyed great popularity in the Byzantine world from the 10th/11th century onward: the parable of the man pursued by the unicorn. According to the Life  of Barlaam and Josaphat ( BHG  224), a hagiographic text that includes the biography of Prince Siddhartha Gautama, better known as the Buddha , the unicorn is a symbol of death that constantly threatens human life. Pursued by the furious unicorn, the man falls into a pit, a symbol of the world, at the bottom of which lies a dragon, a symbol of hell. The man manages to cling to a tree, a symbol of life, but its roots are continually gnawed by two mice, one white and the other black, symbols of day and night. Four snakes, representing the four elements of nature, also torment the unfortunate man. Despite this desperate situation, the man is content with the few drops of honey that drip from the tree branches, symbols of worldly delights that seduce him and lead him to neglect his salvation.  [4]     The fable originated in the East, where it has long been known. An almost identical story is found in the Mahabharata  (III, §5-6) (c. 3rd c. BCE-3rd c. CE), but it is a terrifying six-faced, twelve-footed elephant that threatens the man, not a unicorn. The replacement of the elephant with the unicorn occurred in the 10th/11th century on Mount Athos, during the translation of the Life  of Barlaam and Josaphat from Georgian into Greek.  [5]     This Eastern origin of the fable did not prevent Byzantine artists from depicting it in numerous manuscripts. It even found its place in luxury Psalters produced in Constantinople, such as the Theodore Psalter ( London, BL Add. 19352 , AD 1066) and the Barberini Psalter ( Vatican, BAV   Barb.   Gr. 372 , 11th c.). The parable was chosen to illustrate the verse “Man is like vanity; his days are like a passing shadow” (Ps. 143:4).  [6]     The unicorn and   the   virgin In contrast to this image of a frightening, evil being, the unicorn has also become a symbol of absolute power, thereby symbolizing the power of God. Indeed, according to the book of Numbers (Num. 23:22), “it was God who brought them out of Egypt; his glory is like that of the unicorn” (Θεὸς ὁ ἐξαγαγὼν αὐτοὺς ἐξ Αἰγύπτου· ὡς δόξα μονοκέρωτος  αὐτῷ). According to Origen and Basil the Great, the unicorn’s single horn would therefore indicate the one God, while the unicorn’s strength would symbolize the power of Christ, given to the chosen people. For Eusebius of Caesarea, the verses “The Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon, he makes them jump like the young bull of Lebanon and the beloved son of unicorns” (Ps. 28:5-6, συντρίψει Κύριος τὰς κέδρους τοῦ Λιβάνου καὶ λεπτυνεῖ αὐτὰς ὡς τὸν μόσχον τὸν Λίβανον καὶ ὁ ἠγαπημένος ὡς υἱὸς μονοκερώτων ) can only speak of Jerusalem (the young bull) and the beloved Son (the son of unicorns). Other authors, such as Justin Martyr, Tertullian, and John Chrysostom, interpreted the unicorn as a symbol of the cross of Christ, since the cross’s arms are comparable to the horns of the unicorns. Finally, according to Athanasius of Alexandria, Cyril of Alexandria, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus, the unicorn symbolizes the holy patriarchs, the prophets, the apostles, and even the entire Christian people.  [7]   The favorable interpretation of biblical texts and the parallel drawn between Christ and the unicorn led to another literary borrowing. Around the 3rd/4th century, in a work entitled Physiologos , i.e., “he who studies nature,” an anonymous author added to this symbolism the legend of the virgin who alone could capture the unicorn. The virgin thus foreshadows the Virgin Mary, since the unicorn prefigures Christ himself: A hunter cannot get near it because the unicorn is very strong and it has one horn in the middle of its head. How is it hunted? They place a pure virgin before it, and it goes to her bosom, and the virgin suckles the animal and takes it to the palace, to the king. […] The   animal refers to the person of the Savior. “He raised a horn in the house of David” (Luke 1:69), our father, and he became a horn of salvation for us. Angels and powers were not able to hold him, but he tabernacled in the womb of the true, pure virgin Mary.  [8]  The legend of the virgin used as bait and the beast brought to the royal palace originates, once again, in the East. It has undergone several transformations, as initially it was a courtesan, not a virgin, who could capture the unicorn. The oldest version of the story is found in Sumerian mythology and tells of Enkidu, who, before becoming the friend of King Gilgamesh (3rd millennium BC), lived in the wild and ate like an animal. He was said to have been born to a gazelle and a wild ass. To bring Enkidu to his court, Gilgamesh sent a courtesan who seduced him with her charms.  [9]       This first version of the legend serves as a source for the texts of the Ramayana  (ca. 5th c. BC-3rd c. CE) and the Mahabharata , where a doe or antelope, impregnated by the semen of a holy ascetic, gives birth to a human being with a horn on his head. The child is thus named Rishyasringa, meaning “the doe-horned sage.” Upon reaching maturity, Rishyasringa is tricked by a courtesan into bringing him from the forest to the royal court, where he marries the king’s daughter. In one of the Buddhist versions of the text, included in the Mahavastu  (2nd-4th c.), the young man is called Ekasringa, meaning “the one-horned sage,” and is captured not by a courtesan, but by a virgin, Nalini, the king’s daughter.  [10]   Through the Physiologos , this oriental story entered the Byzantine imaginary. It is depicted in the same two luxury Psalters, in a scene where a unicorn approaches a virgin and places its foot on her knees. It serves as an illustration of the verse: “My horn shall be lifted up like that of the unicorn” (Ps. 91:11: ὑψωθήσεται ὡς μονοκέρωτος τὸ κέρας μου). On the other hand, in the manuscript Mount Athos, Pantocrator 61  (9th c.), the image is related to Psalm 77:69: “And he built his sanctuary like that of the unicorns on the earth which he founded forever” (καὶ ᾠκοδόμησεν ὡς μονοκέρωτος τὸ ἁγίασμα αὐτοῦ, ἐν τῇ γῇ ἐθεμελίωσεν αὐτὴν εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα).  [11]     Ultimately, what remains somewhat puzzling is the Byzantines’ common perception of the unicorn. Did it symbolize death, as in the parable of the man driven out by the unicorn, or Christ, as in the legend of the virgin who captures the unicorn? The simultaneous presence of both scenes in the same Psalters suggests a freedom of choice reserved for the readers. On the other hand, one notices how easily Eastern legends found their place in the Byzantine imaginary; it seems that theology was defeated by legend, to borrow an expression from Jacques Le Goff.  [12]  Indeed, various symbols and allegories are easy to construct when they are based on inconsistent realities. This is the case with the unicorn, an imaginary symbol that never existed in reality.   [1]  Photios, Bibliothèque , §72 (Ctésias), ed. and trans. R. Henry, vol. 1, Paris, 1959, p. 143-144. [2] The Greek Alexander Romance , trans. R. Stoneman, London, 1991, p. 184 (§3.17); S. Papaioannou (ed. and trans.), Life of Makarios the Roman, in Saints at the Limits: Seven Byzantine Popular Legends  (Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library, 78), Cambridge (MA), 2023, p. 86‑87 (§10). [3]  See M.-T. Canivet – P. Canivet, La licorne dans les mosaïques de Huarte d’Apamène (Syrie), IV e ‑V e  s., in Byzantion , 49 (1979), p. 57-87; J. Beal, The Unicorn as a Symbol for Christ in the Middle Ages, in Eadem (ed.), Illuminating Jesus in the Middle Ages (Commentaria, 12), Leiden, 2019, p. 154-188; J. E. Sanzo, The Innovative Use of Biblical Traditions for Ritual Power: The Crucifixion of Jesus on a Coptic Exorcistic Spell (Brit. Lib. Or. 6796[4], 6796) as a Test Case, in Archiv für Religionsgeschichte , 16 (2014), p. 67–98; R. Bélanger Sarrazin, Prayer of Christ From the Cross, e‑Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/prayer-of-christ-from-the-cross . [4] John Damascene, Barlaam and Ioasaph , trans. G. R. Woodward – H. Mattingly (Loeb Classical Library, 34), Cambridge (MA), 1967 (1914), p. 187-191 (§12). The parable is also included in Eugene of Sicily’s (12th c.) version of the work Stephanites and Ichnelates , a Greek translation from Arabic of Kalila and Dimna  or The Fables of Bidpai  (8th c.), containing fables of Indian origin. ( Panchatantra , Mahabharata , etc.), see M. D. Lauxtermann, Unicorn or No Unicorn: Stephanites and Ichnelates , Prol. 3.10, in L. Silvano et al. (ed.), Virtute vir tutus: Studi di letteratura greca, bizantina e umanistica offerti a Enrico V. Maltese , Ghent, 2023, p. 409-428. [5] See A. Mahé – J.-P. Mahé (trans.), La sagesse de Balahvar. Une vie christianisée du Bouddha , Paris, 1993, p. 76-77 (Georgian short version); M. Toumpouri, L’homme chassé par la licorne : de l’Inde au Mont-Athos, in G. Ducœur (ed.), Autour de Bāmiyān. De la Bactriane hellénisée à l’Inde bouddhique, Paris, 2012, p. 425-444. The parable included in Stephanites and Ichnelates  also mentions a unicorne, even though it is an elephant in Kalila and Dimna . [6] Theodore Psalter, f. 182v; Barberini Psalter, f. 237v. See C. J. Hilsdale, Worldliness in Byzantium and Beyond: Reassessing the Visual Networks of Barlaam and Ioasaph, in C. Normore – C. Symes (ed.), Reassessing the Global Turn in Medieval Art History , Amsterdam, 2018, p. 57-96; https://digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Barb.gr.372 . [7] Canivet – Canivet, La licorne, p. 81-87; J. Beal, The Unicorn, p. 156-163. [8]   Physiologos , §22, trans. R. M. Grant, Early Christians and Animals , London, 1999, p. 62. [9]  A. R. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic , Oxford, 2003, vol. 1, p. 544-562; 650 -6 51 (§1‑2; 8). [10]  Ramayana , I, 8-10; Mahabharata , III, §110-113; The   Mahavastu , trans. J. J. Jones, London, 1956, vol. 3, p. 138-147, https://archive.org/details/sacredbooksofbud19londuoft/sacredbooksofbud19londuoft/page/138 . See T. Abusch, The Tale of the Wild Man and the Courtesan in India and Mesopotamia: The Seductions of Rśyaśrnga in the Mahābhārata and Enkidu in the Epic of Gilgamesh, in M. J. Geller (ed.), Melammu: The   Ancient World in an Age of Globalization (Melammu Symposia, 6), Berlin, 2014, p. 69-109; M. Wiedemann, La femme et la licorne, in M.‑L. Paoli (ed.), L’Imaginaire au féminin : du liminal à l’animal… , Bordeaux, 2018, p. 271‑308, https://books.openedition.org/pub/13276 . [11] Theodore Psalter, f. 124v; Barberini Psalter, f. 160r; Mont Athos, Pantocrator 61 , f. 109v. See also Chludov Psalter, Moscow, State Historical Museum Gr. 129-d (9th c.), f. 93v (Ps. 91:11); C. Stephen-Kaissis, ‘Well Speaks the Physiologus’: The Image of the Virgin and Unicorn in the Ninth-Century Byzantine Marginal Psalters and Their Relation to the Smyrna Physiologus (preprint), https://archiv.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/propylaeumdok/volltexte/2023/5698 . [12] J. Le Goff, Héros et merveilles du Moyen Âge , Paris, 2005, p. 159.

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, The   Marriage Feast at Cana  (1672, detail), © The Henry Barber Trust, The Barber Institute of Fine Arts, University of Birmingham, https://barber.org.uk/bartolome-esteban-murillo-1617-1682 . The transformation of water into wine is a miracle attributed to both Christ in the Gospel of John and the god Dionysos in Greek mythology. Since the legends that credit Dionysos with the invention of wine are much older, the miracle at Cana in Galilee has often been interpreted as a Christian response to a pagan cult widespread at that time.  [1]  This parallel is supported by a similar celebration of the miracle. Among Christians, in the 4th century, the wedding at Cana was celebrated on January 6th, a date associated with the birth and baptism of Christ, as well as with the New Year. However, on the same day, non-Christians had long celebrated either Dionysos and the miracle of water turned into wine, or the birth of the god Aion, the symbol of eternal time, who in Egypt amalgamated with Osiris and Dionysos, the gods of death and resurrection.   The Miracle at Cana According to Epiphanios of Salamis (4th c.), the birth of Christ and the miracle at Cana occurred on the same day, January 6th, with an interval of thirty years between them. Their shared feast, called the Epiphany (i.e., manifestation, appearance), was accompanied by miracles similar to that of Cana, “as streams and rivers in many localities testify by being changed to wine.” Epiphanios of Salamis gives two examples of such rivers: those near Cibyra in Caria (southwest Anatolia) and Gerasa in Jordan; he and his companions are said to have drunk from these springs, whose water turned into wine.  [2]   In Egypt, the miracle at Cana was celebrated with the baptism of Christ on January 6th, a date that coincided with the New Year.  [3] The wedding at Cana and the baptism were also celebrated together in several regions in the West, as mentioned by Paulinus of Nola (4th-5th c.), Peter Chrysologus (5th c.), Maximus of Turin (5th c.), and the calendar of Polemius Sylvius (448-449), among others. The Luxeuil lectionary and the Bobbio missal, which date from the 7th/8th century, include the miracle at Cana (John 2,1-11) among the readings for the liturgy of January 6th.  [4]   In the Byzantine tradition, the commemoration of the miracle at Cana was transferred to January 8th, two days after the Epiphany. This date is mentioned in some ancient manuscripts, either in the synaxarion ,  [5]  or in the calendar ( menologion ) included at the end of the apostolos .  [6]  Among the Byzantines, this custom subsequently disappeared, but the Coptic tradition preserves it to this day.    According to several ancient texts, the miracle at Cana was copied by many saints. It seems that Epiphanios of Salamis not only drank from springs miraculously transformed into wine, but he also performed a reverse miracle, changing the wine into water.  [7] In Palestine, Sabas the Sanctified is said to have turned vinegar into wine; for three days, this wine did not run out, so that the monks could drink it freely.  [8]  In Paris, on the day of Epiphany, Marcel, who later became a bishop (4th-5th c.), is said to have taken water from the Seine, but it turned into wine for the Eucharist.  [9]  According to the Life  of Columba of Iona (6th c.), the saint changed water into wine,  [10] while Vedast of Arras (5th-6th c.) is said to have miraculously filled an empty barrel with wine.  [11]  As for Brigid of Kildare in Ireland (4th-5th c.), it is said that she performed a similar miracle, but this time she turned water into beer.  [12]   The cult of Dionysos These Christian legends about changing water into wine have very ancient origins. In Greco-Roman mythology, similar miracles are associated with Dionysos/Bacchus, the god of wine, theatre, fertility, mysteries, and resurrection. In the early centuries of Christianity, his cult was widespread throughout the Mediterranean region, including Galilee.    According to Diodorus Siculus (1st c. BC), the inhabitants of the town of Teos, in Ionia (a country in western Anatolia, near Caria mentioned by Epiphanios), believed that Dionysos was born in that land, since a spring of wine with a delightful fragrance gushed forth there on a fixed date.  [13] According to Pliny the Elder (1st c.), it was said that at Andros, in the Cyclades, at the sanctuary of Dionysos, the water from a spring turned into wine once a year. The miracle occurred during the seven days dedicated to this god, which began at the Nones of January (January 5th); however, the wine reverted to water if it was taken far from the temple.  [14] As for Pausanias (2nd c.), he mentions the inhabitants of the city of Elis, in the northwest Peloponnese, who believed that Dionysos participated each year in the festival they dedicated to him; during the night, the god miraculously filled with wine three empty vessels prepared inside the temple.  [15]     This festival on January 5th/6th, dedicated to Dionysos and the miracle of water turned into wine, appears to have been integrated into the celebrations of the winter solstice (traditionally set on December 25th) and the New Year. According to the same Epiphanios, in Alexandria, non-Christians gathered on January 6th, New Year’s Day, to celebrate “Kore—that is, the Virgin—[who] gave birth to Aion.”  [16]  In Egypt, Aion was the god of eternal time, assimilated with both Osiris and Dionysos. The same festival was observed in Elusa (Palestine), as well as in Petra (Jordan), the ancient capital of the Nabataeans, who celebrated the birth of the local god Dushara, often amalgamated with Zeus and Dionysos of the Greek pantheon.  [17]   The feast of the Epiphany appears to have been built upon these pre-Christian customs. The commemoration of the miracle at Cana was thus intended to replace the festival of Dionysos; the nativity and baptism of Christ paralleled the symbolism of a new solar cycle and countered the god of time and life, who manifested himself in the world. However, after several centuries, when Christians forgotten Dionysos, the feast of the miracle at Cana lost its raison d’être in the Byzantine calendar.   [1]  R. Seaford, Dionysos , London, 2006, p. 122-126; W. Eisele, Jesus und Dionysos: Göttliche Konkurrenz bei der Hochzeit zu Kana (Joh 2,1-11), in Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche , 100.1 (2009), p. 1-28; E. Kobel, Dining with John: CommunalMeals and Identity Formation in the Fourth Gospel and its Historical and Cultural Context  (Biblical Interpretation Series, 109), Leiden, 2011, p. 221-246. [2]   The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis , Book I (Sects 1-46) , trans. F. Williams, Leiden, 1987, p. 62 (§51.30.1-2). [3] W. Riedel – W. E. Crum, The   Canons of Athanasius of Alexandria , London, 1904, p. 27 (§16). [4] On the feast of Epiphany and the miracle at Cana, see B. Botte, Les   origines de Noël et de l’Épiphanie , Louvain, 1932; H. Auf der Maur, Feiern im rhythmus der Zeit (Gottesdienst der Kirche. Handbuch der Liturgiewissenschaft, 5), vol. 1, Regensburg, 1983, p. 154-176; T. J. Talley, The Origins of the Liturgical Year , New York, 1986, p. 85-147.  [5]  H. Delehaye (ed.), Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, Acta Sanctorum Propylaeum Novembris , Bruxelles, 1902, col. 380.3-4 (manuscripts H, S, et Sa); J. Mateos, Le Typicon de la Grande Église. Ms. Sainte Croix n° 40, X e  siècle  (Orientalia Christiana Analecta, 165), Rome, 1962-1963, vol. 1, p. 190-191. See also Sinai Gr. 548 , 10th/11th c. (Hs, Diktyon 58923), f. 95r.  [6] Mount Athos, St. Panteleimon 86 , 11th/12th c. (GA ℓ 1279, Diktyon 22223), f. 238v: σύναξις τοῦ ἐν Κανᾷ τῆς Γαλιλαίας γάμου, cf. G. Andreou, Il Praxapostolos bizantino. Edizione del codice Mosca GIM Vlad. 21 (Savva 4)  (Jerusalemer Theologisches Forum, 46), Münster, 2023, p. 370-371. [7]   Patrologia Graeca , 41, col. 33-36 ( BHG  596, §10). [8] Cyril of Scythopolis, Lives of the Monks of Palestine , trans. R. Price – J. Binns (Cistercian Studies Series, 114), Kalamazoo (MI), 1991, p. 146 ( BHG  1608, §46). [9] Vita sancti Marcelli ( BHL  5248), §20, in Venanti Honori Clementiani Fortunati presbyteri Italici opera pedestria , ed. B. Krusch (Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores antiquissimi, 4.2), Berlin, 1885, p. 51. [10] Adomnán of Iona, Life of St Columba , §1.1; 2.1, trans. R. Sharpe, London, 1991, p. 110; 154 ( BHL  1886). [11] Jonas of Bobbio, Life of Columbanus, Life of John of Réomé, and Life of Vedast , trans. A. O’Hara – I. Wood (Translated Texts for Historians, 64), Liverpool, 2017, p. 270 ( BHL  8501, §4). [12] L. De Paor (trans.), Cogitosus’ Life of St. Brigid the Virgin, in St. Patrick’s World: The Christian Church of Ireland’s Apostolic Age , Dublin, 1993, p. 211. [13] Diodorus of Sicily, The Library of History , §3.66, ed. and trans. C. H. Oldfather (Loeb Classical Library), vol. 2, Cambridge (MA), 1939, p. 14-15. [14] Pliny, Natural History , §2.106.11, ed. and trans. H. Rackham et al. (Loeb Classical Library), vol. 1, Cambridge (MA), 1949, p. 356-359: Andro in insula, templo Liberi patris, fontem nonis Ianuariis semper vini sapore fluere ; §31.13, vol. 8, Cambridge (MA), 1963, p. 388-389: Andri e fonte Liberi patris statis diebus septenis eius dei vinum fluere . See also Pausanias, Description of Greece , §6.26.2, ed. and trans. W. H. S. Jones, vol. 3 (Loeb Classical Library), Cambridge (MA), 1961, p. 156-159. [15] Pausanias, Description of Greece , §6.26.1-2, p. 156-159. See A. I. Jiménez San Cristóbal, The Epiphany of Dionysus in Elis and the Miracle of the Wine (Plutarch, Quaestiones Graecae 299 B), in R. Hirsch-Luipold – L. Roig Lanzillotta (ed.), Plutarch’s Religious Landscapes  (Brill’s Plutarch Studies, 6), Leiden, 2020, p. 311-331. [16] The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis , p. 51-52 (§51.22.9-10). [17] Ibidem , p. 52 (§51.22.11). On Aion – Osiris – Dionysos and Dushara – Zeus – Dionysos, see J. Fossum, The Myth of the Eternal Rebirth: Critical Notes on G. W. Bowersock, Hellenism in Late Antiquity, in Vigiliae Christianae , 53.3 (1999), p. 305-315; S. G. Schmid, Un roi nabatéen à Délos ?, in Annual of the Depatment of Antiquities of Jordan , 43 (1999), p. 279-298.

The sarcophagus of Empress Helena (4th c.), Musei Vaticani, Rome, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:011-_Sarcofago_di_Sant%27Elena,_310-320_d.C._-FG.jpg , CC BY-SA 4.0 BY Fabrizio Garrisi. Empress Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine I (306-337), died around 329 after a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. According to the historian Eusebius of Caesarea (4th c.), Helena was buried “in the imperial city,” that is, in Rome. However, later Eastern writers transformed this “imperial city” into “New Rome,” that is, the city of Constantinople, to increase the prestige of the new capital. As a result of this change, several churches still consider themselves to be guardians of the empress’s relics, even though there is no evidence to support their pious claims.   Helena in Rome In the Life of Constantine  ( CPG  3496), Eusebius of Caesarea states that Helena was buried “in the imperial city” (ἐπὶ τὴν βασιλεύουσαν πόλιν), in the “imperial tombs” (ἠρίοις βασιλικοῖς).  [1]  Since Constantinople was inaugurated only in 330, the city mentioned by Eusebius is Rome, the capital of the Empire, where Helena had also lived for several years. The burial place was the mausoleum located on the Via Labicana (today Via Casilina), near the catacomb of Marcellinus and Peter, as attested by a notice in the Book of Pontiffs  ( Liber Pontificalis ) in the 6th century and several pilgrimage guides from the 7th century.  [2]     According to a tradition of uncertain authenticity, later, in the 9th century, some of Helena’s relics were stolen and transported from Rome to Hautvillers, France (diocese of Reims).  [3]  The bones are now in the church of Saint-Leu-Saint-Gilles in Paris. In the 12th century, in Rome, Pope Innocent II (1130-1143) transferred what remained of Helena’s relics from her mausoleum to the church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli, on the Capitoline Hill. The porphyry sarcophagus that had probably held the saint’s body was used to deposit, for a specific period, the remains of Pope Anastasius IV (1153-1154).  [4]   Helena in Constantinople In contradiction to this Western tradition, several Eastern historians have considered that Helena’s tomb would have been in the Byzantine capital. The first of them was Socrates of Constantinople (5th c.). In his Ecclesiastical History , he used Eusebius’s text on this subject. Still, he changed “the imperial city” to “New Rome,”  [5]  since in his time, Constantinople was the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire. Mistake or conscious alteration? Impossible to say.  [6]     Several later writers continued this clumsy alteration. They added that Helena was buried in the Church of the Holy Apostles,  [7]  even though Constantine had built it to house only his tomb, surrounded by those of the apostles. Since no grave in this church was known to belong to the empress, they also thought that the remains of Constantine and Helena would have been deposited in the same sarcophagus.  [8]  Later, to reconcile the contradictory claims of Eusebius and Socrates, other authors imagined that Helena’s relics were transferred from Rome to Constantinople two years after Constantine’s death.  [9]  All these confusions and changes of opinion have fuelled doubts on this subject, as confirmed by the writer Nicholas Mesarites (ca. 1160-1216) towards the end of the 12th century .  [10]   Empress Helena or Helena of Athyra? Although the confusion created by the historian Socrates is evident, religious men who came from the West after the Latin conquest of Constantinople in 1204 supported the idea that Helena’s relics were in the city at the time of their arrival. After the Byzantines, it was the Crusaders’ turn to boast of possessing the remains of the empress. In this context, Helena’s relics would have been transferred both to Venice, in 1212, to the monastery (now the church) of Sant’Elena, and Troyes, a town only 100 km south of Hautvillers, in 1220.  [11]  An ecclesiastical competition between these three cities on this subject is easy to imagine.   Nevertheless, the authenticity of the relics sent to the West in the 13th century remains uncertain. Most likely, the body shared on this occasion had not belonged to Empress Helena, but to a virgin Helena, whose veneration is attested in Athyra (today Büyükçekmece, ca. 50 km west of Istanbul), at the end of the 12th century.  [12] The confusion was premeditated, to give more importance to the relics transferred to the West and to increase the prestige of the places where they were kept.  [13]  It seems that Helena of Athyra, an almost unknown saint, took the place of Empress Helena, whose relics, in any case, had arrived in Constantinople according only to the local religious imagination or propaganda.   [1]  Eusèbe de Césarée, Vie de Constantin , §3.47, trans. M.‑J. Rondeau (Sources chrétiennes, 559), Paris, 20 13, p. 410 ‑ 411.   CPG  refers to Clavis Patrum Graecorum . [2]   Liber Pontificalis , §34.26, trans. R. Davies, The Book of Pontiffs (Liber Pontificalis): The Ancient Biographies of the First Ninety Roman Bishops to AD 715  (Translated Texts for Historians, 6), Liverpool, 2010, p. 22; Notitia ecclesiarum urbis Romae , ed. R. Valentini – G. Zucchetti, Codice topografico della città di Roma , 2 (Fonti per la storia d’Italia, 88), Rome, 1942, p. 83; De locis sanctis martyrum , ed. Valentini – Zucchetti, Codice topografico , p. 113: ecclesia sanctae Elenae ubi ipsa corpore iacet . Likely, the monument was originally intended for Emperor Constantine himself; see M. J. Johnson, The Roman Imperial Mausoleum in Late Antiquity , Cambridge, 2009, p. 110‑118; J. W. Drijvers, Helena Augusta and the City of Rome, in M. Verhoeven et al. (ed.), Monuments & Memory: Christian Cult Buildings and Constructions of the Past: Essays in Honour of Sible de Blaauw , Turnhout, 2016, p. 147-153. [3]   Acta Sanctorum Aug. , III, p. 601‑603 ( Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina  3773). See C. Ménager, Doute sur les reliques et enquête d’authentification : l’exemple d’Hélène, in  Questes , 23 (2012), p. 22‑31, https://journals.openedition.org/questes/917#quotation ; M. P. Ritsema van Eck, Helena on the Move: The Makings of a Medieval Saint, in J. Barr – B. Zimbalist (ed.), Writing Holiness: Genre and Reception across Medieval Hagiography , Turnhout, 2023, p. 35-64. [4]   Acta Sanctorum Aug. , III, p. 606 (§30). [5]  Socrate de Constantinople, Histoire ecclésiastique , §1.17, trans. P. Périchon – P. Maraval (Sources chrétiennes, 477), Paris, 20 04, p. 180-181. [6] G. Dagron, Emperor and Priest: The Imperial Office in Byzantium , Cambridge, 2003, p. 145, n. 64. [7]  Alexander of Cyprus (the Monk), Discourse on the Invention of the Holy Cross  ( CPG  7398), Patrologia Graeca , 87/3, 4016-4076, here 4068C; C. Mango – R. Scott (trans.), The Chronicle of Theophanes Confessor , Oxford, 1997, p. 42-43 (AM 5817). [8]  Constantin VII Porph yrogénète, Le livre des cérémonies , §2.42, ed. G. Dagron et al., Paris, 2020, vol. 3, p. 238-239 and n. 4.  See G. Downey, The Tombs of the Byzantine Emperors at the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, in The Journal of Hellenic Studies , 79 (1959), p. 27-51. Likely, it was a confusion between Helena and Fausta, the wife of Constantine I. [9]  Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos , Ecclesiastical History , §8.31, Patrologia Graeca , 146, col. 117-120. [10]  A. Heisenberg, Grabeskirche und Apostelkirche, zwei Basiliken Konstantins, 2, Die Apostelkirche in Konstantinopel , Leipzig, 1908, p. 82.9-10 (§39): “It is said that Helena ... is buried with her son” (λόγος δὲ καὶ Ἑλένην … τῷ ταύτης συντεθάφθαι υἱῷ), trans. G. Downey: Nikolaos Mesarites. Description of the Church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople, in Transactions of the American Philosophical Society , 47.6 (1957) (n.s.), p. 855-924, here 891. See M. J. Johnson, Where were Constantius I and Helena Buried?, in  Latomus , 51 (1992), p. 145‑150. [11]  Antoine de Novgorod, Le livre de pèlerin , trans. B. de Khitrowo, Itinéraires russes en Orient , 1.1, Geneva, 1889, p. 110. See R. Janin, La géographie ecclésiastique de l’Empire byzantin , 1.3, Les églises et les monastères , Paris, 1969, p. 110. [12]  X. Lequeux, Saints oubliés de Byzance (2). Hélène d’Athyra, in  Analecta Bollandiana , 130 (2012), p. 351-353. [13]  P. J. Geary,  Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages , Ithaca (NY), 1994, p. 221-242; A. E. Lester, Translation and Appropriation: Greek Relics in the Latin West in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade, dans S. Ditchfield et al. (ed.), Translating Christianity  (Studies in Church History, 53), Cambridge, 2017, p. 88‑117.

The acheiropoieton of Gethsemane as depicted in the manuscript Madrid, Biblioteca del Monasterio de El Escorial, T.I.1  (ca. 1280-1284), f. 44r, https://rbme.patrimonionacional.es/s/rbme/item/11337#?c=&m=&s=&cv=95&xywh=-4400%2C-263%2C12014%2C5244 . Legends surrounding the so-called images “not made by human hands” ( acheiropoieta ) emerged around the 6th century, with the aim of popularising the miracles attributed to them, promoting their veneration, and increasing the number of pilgrimage sites. In a period where the Decalogue ’s commandment against depicting the divine was still observed, these legends ascribed the initiative to paint icons to God himself. The new trend thus became difficult to challenge. The miraculous creation of these images made them akin to relics, attracting crowds and enhancing the prestige of the churches that housed them.   The oldest images “not made by human hands” It is often forgotten that Christians started to venerate icons because they believed the images, like relics, had miraculous powers. First of those icons were the images regarded as “not made by human hands.” The best known and probably the oldest of them is the image of Edessa , whose feast is inscribed in the calendar on August 16. According to the earliest version of the legend, written in the 5th or 6th centuries to support the idea of ​​the city’s apostolic origins, a painter depicted Christ on a canvas before the Passion. Since the legend was deemed implausible, the text was revised, and according to the new version, Christ himself imprinted his face on a cloth. The legend became very popular from the 6th century onward and served as a model for other similar local traditions.  [1]   At that time, it was said that in the Cappadocia region, at Kamouliana, a pagan woman named Hypatia had discovered another acheiropoieton  of Christ on a cloth in the water. The image, which had the power to multiply, was brought to Constantinople as early as the 6th century. It became a veritable palladion , protecting the city, like other objects that “fell from heaven” venerated by Christians. During the reign of Emperor Justinian (527-565), one of the copies of this icon was carried in procession for six years through the Pontus region (Asia Minor) to raise money for the restoration of a church. [2]   In Egypt, a church in Memphis preserved another cloth, on which Christ was said to have imprinted his face during his childhood. According to local tradition, the image changed its appearance when viewed carefully. [3]  As for Jerusalem, the city was said to have preserved the column of the Flagellation of Christ, on which pilgrims could see the imprint of the face, chin, nose, and eyes, imprinted in the stone as if in wax.  [4]   From Christ, the fashion for these miraculous images passed to the Virgin Mary. According to a list of images “not made by human hands” preserved in the manuscript Venice, BNM gr. 573  (9th century), such an image was venerated in the church located at the presumed tomb of the Virgin in Gethsemane.  [5]  In Lydda (Diospolis), Palestine, in a church built, according to legend, by the apostles Peter and John, there was said to be another acheiropoieton of the Virgin, miraculously imprinted on the wall or on a column. [6]   The acheiropoieta  in Rome The fashion for icons “not made by human hands” enjoyed great success in Rome from the mid-6th century onward, when the Byzantines occupied the city. By the 9th century, no fewer than four such images were venerated in Rome’s most important churches: both the Lateran and the Vatican claimed to possess an acheiropoieton of Christ, while the churches of Santa Maria Maggiore and Santa Maria in Trastevere considered their icons of the Virgin also to have a divine origin. It seems there was competition among these churches, each seeking to promote its treasures and increase its ecclesiastical power by any means.   The earliest reference to a Roman icon “not made by human hands” concerns an image of the Virgin Mary kept at Santa Maria in Trastevere. A text that may date from the 7th or 8th century, attached to a pilgrimage guide entitled De locis sanctis martyrum , mentions in this church an icon “that made itself” ( imago sanctae Mariae quae per se facta est ).  [7]  In response, in the 8th century, the church of St. John Lateran, which at that time served as the seat of the pope, also acquired an acheiropoieton of Christ. On the Feast of the Dormition of the Virgin, the Lateran icon was carried in procession to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore,  [8] which also claimed to possess another similar miraculous image.  [9]   In the 9th century, it was said that there was in Rome, likely in St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, an  acheiropoieton of Christ on a veil that had belonged to Berenike/Veronica, the woman who suffered a 12-year haemorrhage.  [10]  According to the oldest version of this legend, preserved in two apocryphal texts, Cura sanitatis Tiberii  ( CANT  69) and Vindicta Salvatoris  ( CANT  70), Veronica painted this image of Christ.  [11]  But as in the case of the image of Edessa, the legend was later transformed. According to the new version, it was Christ who imprinted his face on a cloth, this time on the road to Calvary.  [12]   In the 8th and 9th centuries, when Roman images “not made by human hands” had already become numerous, other churches began to claim that their icons had been painted by the Apostle Luke. Even though the initiative to paint these icons was attributed to an apostle and not to Christ, they enjoyed a popularity similar to that of the acheiropoieta . Over time, the two categories of images merged, with the icons in the Lateran and Santa Maria Maggiore being considered both “not made by human hands” and painted by the Apostle Luke.   [1]  A. Desreumaux et al. (trans.), Histoire du roi Abgar et de Jésus  (Apocryphes, 1), Turnhout, 1993, p. 59 (§6); C. Jullien – F. Jullien (trans.), Les Actes de Mar-Mari. L’apôtre de la Mésopotamie  (Apocryphes, 11), Turnhout, 2001, p. 67 (§3); Evagrius Scholasticus, The   Ecclesiastical History , §4.27, trans. M. Whitby (Translated Texts for Historians, 33), Liverpool, 2000, p. 226. [2]   The Chronicle of Pseudo-Zachariah Rhetor: Religion and War in Late Antiquity , trans. G. Greatrex et al. (Translated Texts for Historians, 55), Liverpool, 2011, p. 425-427 (§12.4.a-b). According to this work, the image of Kamouliana was known in three identical versions, created from the same original. See also H. Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art , Chicago, 1994, p. 53-56. [3]  The Piacenza Pilgrim, Travels , §44, trans. J. Wilkinson, Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades , Jerusalem, 1977, p. 88. [4] Theodosius, The Topography of the Holy Land , §7b, trans. Wilkinson, Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades , p. 66.   [5] A. Alexakis, Codex Parisinus Graecus 1115 and Its Archetype  (Dumbarton Oaks Studies, 34), Washington (DC), 1996, p. 349.36-37. [6] Ibidem , p. 349.22-36. On this image, see E. von Dobschütz, Christusbilder: Untersuchungen zur christlichen Legende , Leipzig, 1899, p. 79-83 et 146*-147*. [7]  R. Valentini – G. Zucchetti (ed.), Codice topografico della città di Roma , 2 (Fonti per la storia d’Italia, 88), Rome, 1942, p. 122. This is the icon Madonna della Clemenza. See J. Osborne, Rome in the Eighth Century: A History in Art , Cambridge, 2020, p. 63-65. [8] Liber Pontificalis , §94.11, ed. L. Duchesne, vol. 1, Paris, 1886, p. 443, trans. R. Davis, The Lives of Eighth-Century Popes (Translated Texts for Historians, 13), Liverpool, 2007, p. 56. The image is now located in the Sancta Sanctorum chapel.  See Belting, Likeness and Presence , p. 311-313; K. Noreen, Re-Covering Christ in Late Medieval Rome: The Icon of Christ in the Sancta Sanctorum, in Gesta , 49.2 (2010), p. 117-135. [9] Alexakis, Codex Parisinus Graecus 1115 , p. 349.44-48. This is the icon Salus Populi Romani (Protector of the Roman people). See G. Wolf, Icon and Sites: Cult Images of the Virgin in Mediaeval Rome, in M. Vassilaki (ed.), Images of the Mother of God: Perceptions of the Theotokos in Byzantium , Aldershot, 2005, p. 23-49, at 31-37.  [10] Alexakis, Codex Parisinus Graecus 1115 , p. 349.8-12. [11] Z. Izydorczyk, Healing of Tiberius, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/healing-of-tiberius ; S.C.E. Hopkins, Vengeance of the Savior, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/vengeance-of-the-savior . CANT  refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . [12] J.-M. Sansterre, Variations d’une légende et genèse d’un culte entre la Jérusalem des origines, Rome et l’Occident. Quelques jalons de l’histoire de Véronique et de la Veronica jusqu’à la fin du XIII e  siècle, in J. Ducos – P. Henriet (ed.), Passages. Déplacements des hommes, circulation des textes et identités dans l’Occident médiéval , Toulouse, 2013, p. 217-231, https://books.openedition.org/pumi/38233?lang=en .

Prophet Ezekiel as depicted in the manuscript   Paris, Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève 21  (14 e  s.), f. 77r, https://initiale.irht.cnrs.fr/decor/52768 , CC BY-NC 3.0. According to popular piety, a mysterious letter fell directly from the sky to draw attention to Sunday observance. After remaining suspended in the air for three days, the letter descended among the faithful. It contained harsh words for those who did not attend church on Sundays. Although rightly contested by ecclesiastical authorities, this bizarre letter was read in Byzantium on the second Sunday of Lent, in a liturgical or monastic context.   A divine message The text called Sunday Letter or Letter from Heaven ( CANT  311)  [1]  enjoyed great popularity in the Christian world. The earliest mention of this writing belongs to Bishop Licianus of Cartagena (Spain) in the 6th century, according to whom the letter descended from heaven to Rome, to the church of St. Peter.  [2]  The same information is present in several ancient Greek manuscripts, which provide details of this miraculous apparition: This letter was hung up in the midst of the temple, in the sanctuary. And Peter, the great apostle of the Lord, appeared to the bishop of Rome in a dream and said to him, “Rise, bishop, and see the immaculate letter of our Lord Jesus Christ.”   [3] Seeing the letter suspended in the air, the bishop summoned the faithful for a common prayer. After three days of worship, the letter descended into his hands, and the bishop read it to everyone. It contained clear instructions on Sunday observance, which repeated similar Jewish precepts regarding the Sabbath. In the Latin version of the text, the author also reminded the faithful of the obligation to pay tithes.  [4]   According to the manuscript Vatican, BAV Barb. Gr. 284  (14th c.), the letter had to be read to the faithful on the second Sunday of Lent. [5] In another manuscript, t he text begins with the formula “Bless, master!”, which testifies to  a liturgical or monastic context.  [6]  The letter was therefore accepted by ecclesiastical communities. The letter’s dual nature explains its success: it contains curses for those who do not trust it, do not read it aloud, or do not listen to it wholeheartedly, but also blessings for those who copy it “for another city and other countries.” This malicious mixture of heavenly threats and blessings had emotional effects on the faithful, who acted accordingly.   Divine letters and celestial objects At the time this text was composed, the idea that divine messages could reach humans in written form was not new. In the Old Testament, Moses is said to have received the commandments on two tablets of stone, “written with the finger of God.”  [7] When the prophet Ezekiel was called to his mission, a heavenly hand bearing a scroll appeared to him, and a voice instructed him to eat it.  [8]   As for Christian tradition, the letter that fell from the sky has several points in common with the legend of King Abgar V and the image of Edessa (present-day Şanlıurfa, Turkey). According to a pious tradition that developed over several centuries, Christ sent this king of Edessa an autograph letter, as well as the image of his face, printed on a cloth. Around the 6th century, both became objects of public veneration: the letter was inscribed on the gates of the city of Edessa to protect it, while the image was honoured as the most famous icon “not made by human hands” (acheiropoietos). [9]  In other contexts, divine signs could arrive at humans in various material forms, as   evidenced by the legends of the   holy dust at the tomb of the apostle John in Ephesus and the heavenly fire on Easter Day in Jerusalem.   The belief that holy objects can fall from the sky is a widespread superstition in the ancient world. According to a Greek legend, before being stolen by Odysseus, a   statue ( palladion ) representing the goddess Pallas protected the city of Troy; it was supposedly thrown to earth by Zeus.  [10]  In Rome, the   shield of the god Mars, discovered by the mythical king Numa Pompilius (7th c. BC), was considered to have divine origin.  [11] At Ephesus, the people venerated a   statue that “fell from the sky,” representing the goddess Artemis. [12]  Towards the end of the 5th century, at Emesa (present-day Homs, Syria), the cult of a solar deity included the veneration of a stone (betyl) that was said to have fallen from the sky.  [13]  As for pre-Islamic and Islamic Arabia, the black stone of Mecca was said to have been brought by Adam when he descended from Paradise to earth.  [14]   [1] M. A. Calogero, Epistle of Christ from Heaven, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/epistle-of-christ-from-heaven ; J. E. Spittler, Apocryphal Epistles: The Curious Case of the Letter of Jesus Christ That Fell from Heaven , in D. Moessner et al. (ed.), Paul, Christian Textuality, and the Hermeneutics of Late Antiquity: Essays in Honor of Margaret M. Mitchell  (Novum Testamentum, Supplements, 190), Leiden, 2023, p. 302-347; E. Timotin, Legenda Duminicii , Bucharest, 2005. C ANT refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . [2]   Patrologia Latina , 72, col. 699-700. [3] I. Backus, Lettre de Jésus-Christ sur le dimanche, in P. Geoltrain – J.‑D. Kaestli (ed.), Écrits apocryphes chrétiens , vol. 2, Paris, 2005, p. 1101-1119, here 1109. For the Greek versions of the letter, see Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca   812i-812s. Some of the manuscripts place the event not in Rome, but in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, or Constantinople. [4]   Ibidem , p. 1118-1119 (§20)  [5]  M. Bittner, Der vom Himmel gefallene Brief in seinen morgenländischen Versionen und Rezensionen, in Denkschriften der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften: Philosophisch-historische Klasse , 51.1 (1906), p. 11 (version α) ; https://digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Barb.gr.284 , f. 55r. [6]   Bittner, Der vom Himmel gefallene Brief, p. 16 (version α 1 ); Paris, BNF gr. 947 , f. 21v, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10721847c/f29.item . [7]  Ex 31,18 ; 32,15-16.  [8]  Ez 2,8-3,3. [9]  Procopius of Caesarea, The   Persian War , §2.12, ed. J. Haury – G. Wirth, Procopii Caesariensis Opera omnia , 1, De Bellis Libri I-IV , Leipzig, 1962, p. 206-207; Evagrius Scholasticus, The Ecclesiastical History , §4.27, trans. M. Whitby (Translated Texts for Historians, 33), Liverpool, 2000, p. 226.   [10]  J.-Cl. Carrière – B. Massonie (trans.), La Bibliothèque d’Apollodore , Paris,1991, §3.12.3, p. 107-108 ; Épitomé , §5.10, p. 136, https://www.persee.fr/doc/ista_0000-0000_1991_edc_443_1 . [11]  Dionysius of Halicarnassus, The   Roman Antiquities , §2.71, ed. and trans. E. Spelman – E. Cary (Loeb Classical Library, 319), vol. 1, Cambridge (MA), 1937, p. 518-519.  [12]  Acts 19,35. [13]  Photios, Bibliothèque , §242 (Damascius, Vie d’Isidore ), 203, ed. R. Henry, vol. 6, Paris, 1971, p. 43. [14]   The History of al-Ṭabarī , trans. F. Rosenthal, vol. 1, New York, 1989, p. 297, 303, and 362. On the myth of stones “falling from the sky”, see M. Eliade, Traité d’histoire des religions , Paris, 1964, p. 195-203.

The image of Edessa in the manuscript Paris, BNF Lat. 2688 (13th c.), f. 75r, https://mandragore.bnf.fr/mirador/ark:/12148/btv1b8101682k/f61 . In the Byzantine world, the icon of Edessa was arguably the most famous image “not made by human hands” (acheiropoieton). According to legend, before his death, Christ imprinted the image of his face on a cloth, which he sent to King Abgar V of Edessa with a letter. This story is not credible, especially since, unlike other Christian legends whose origins are unknown, we can understand the formation of this story to a greater extent. Indeed, according to the oldest version of the legend, it was not Christ who created the icon, but an artist sent to Jerusalem by King Abgar.   The origins of the legend The oldest text that mentions a special connection between Christ and the city of Edessa (present-day Urfa/Şanlıurfa, Turkey) is the Ecclesiastical History  by Eusebius of Caesarea (4th c.). The writer cites a tradition developed in the region of Edessa, according to which King Abgar sent a messenger to Jerusalem to request Jesus’ help in delivering him from his bodily sufferings. On this occasion, Christ wrote him a letter, but nothing is said about an image of Christ that would have been sent to the king.  [1]   This story without historical basis was likely intended to fill a gap in information about the beginnings of Christianity in Edessa and promote the myth of its apostolic origins. Over time, the tradition developed, and the letter sent to Abgar became a talisman, like other objects and letters that “fell from the sky” and were venerated by Christians. According to Egeria, a pilgrim from the West who visited Edessa around 384, whenever enemies came to attack the city, the public reading of the letter would quickly disperse them. But the legend of the miraculous image still remained unknown at that time.  [2]   The earliest text that mentions an icon of Christ in Edessa is the Doctrine of Addai  ( CANT  89), preserved in the Syriac language. The oldest manuscript of this work dates from the late 5th or early 6th century. In addition to Christ’s letter, the author adds the story of an image that arrived in Edessa. However, the text does not speak of a miraculous icon, but of an image made two days before the Passion of Christ by the messenger sent to Jerusalem, called Hannan/Ananias: While Jesus was speaking to him, the archivist Hannan, who was the painter of the king, painted the image of Jesus with chosen pigments and brought it to his master. When  King Abgar saw it, he received it with great joy and placed it with great honour in one of the rooms of his palace.  [3]   The transformation of   the   legend The next stage in the development of the legend is recorded in the Acts of Mar Mari , a work generally dated to the end of the 6th or the beginning of the 7th century. According to this text, Abgar’s messengers arrived in Jerusalem two days before the Passion of Christ, when the exchange of letters took place. After their return to Edessa, Abgar decided to send some painters to Jerusalem to paint a portrait of Jesus. Puzzlingly, despite the distance between the two cities (ca. 900 km), they arrived before Jesus’ death! And since they were unable to paint Christ, he intervened and printed his image on a cloth: After seeing the painters struggling to obtain an image that conformed to reality, the Life-Giver of the world took a cloth, printed it on its face, and it conformed to reality. The cloth was taken as a source of help and deposited in the church of Edessa to this day.  [4] Thus artificially rewritten, the legend quickly gained widespread recognition. Evagrius Scholasticus (6th c.) mentions an image “divinely created, which human hands had not made, the one that Christ the God sent to Abgar when he yearned to see Him.” The icon protected the city of Edessa during the Persian siege in 544.  [5]  However, the historian Procopius of Caesarea (6th c.), who had already described the same event before Evagrius, does not seem to have heard of a miraculous icon in Edessa.  [6]  This fact places the creation of the second version of the legend in the second half of the 6th century.   The image of Edessa became very popular in the Byzantine world, as evidenced by the Acts of Thaddeus  (7th c., CANT  299, BHG  1702-1703) and the Story of the Image of Edessa  (10th c., CANT  931, BHG  794-796).  [7]  The second text attests to the existence of other stages in the development of the legend. It seems that there was not just one acheiropoietos icon in Edessa, but three! Moreover, on his way back from Jerusalem to Edessa, Ananias is said to have stopped at Hierapolis/Mabbug (today Manbij, in Syria), where the face of Christ was also imprinted on a brick (keramion). A similar miracle and the appearance of another “holy brick” are also said to have taken place in Edessa.  [8]     In 944, the image of Edessa (also known as the Mandylion; Latin: mantile ) was purchased by Emperor Romanos I (919-944) and solemnly transported to Constantinople. At that time, the face of Christ was almost effaced, an occasion to say that only the righteous persons could see it, not the wicked ones.  [9]  A few decades later, probably in the time of Nicephoros II Phokas (963-969), the keramion of Hierapolis was also transferred to the capital. In the Byzantine calendar, the commemoration of these two events takes place on August 16.   After the Latin conquest of Constantinople in 1204, there are few remaining traces of these miraculous objects. However, their memory has been preserved in other legends, such as those of the Veil of Veronica in the Vatican, of the Mandylion in the Church of S. Bartolomeo degli Armeni in Genoa, and of the Mandylion in the Church of San Silvestro in Capite in Rome.   The acheiropoietos image and Iconoclasm Why did an image painted by King Abgar’s messenger become an image “not made by human hands”? In the 6th century, the idea that humans could paint the divine was still little accepted. One of the commandments of the Decalogue prohibited the creation of images and the representation of divine things (Ex 20,4-5). In these conditions, the first version of the legend, which promoted a human-made image of Christ, and therefore an iconophile thesis, had little chance of gaining acceptance at that time. On the other hand, the second version, in which Christ himself is the creator of the image, was practically incontestable. However, these hesitations regarding the creation of the image of Edessa suggest that the appearance of the first icons was not driven by theological or artistic considerations, but rather by the desire to multiply miraculous objects that attracted crowds and generated material benefits.   Moreover, the legend’s new version had a clear iconoclastic tendency. For, indeed, if Ananias failed to paint the face of Christ, how could others succeed? A paradox remains thus hidden behind the miracle. Even after the end of the disputes over the images, the absolution of the last iconoclastic emperor, and the establishment of Orthodox Sunday in the 9th century, the iconoclastic theses of this legend were still preserved. At the end of the 12th century, in a didascalia by Constantine Stilbes (future Metropolitan of Cyzicus, in Turkey) on the image of Edessa, we still read arguments that would have produced great pleasure among the iconoclasts a few centuries earlier:   Indeed, the divine form [i.e., the face of Christ]  is elusive to the eyes, even if the artist continually sends upon this form the spiritual rays of vision, as one touches with the hands; as he [probably, a reference to Gregory of Nazianzen] who spoke of His nature says, it is elusive and unlimited, and the grace which makes the face shine comes to stop the painter [from painting] .   [10]   [1]  Eusèbe de Césarée, Histoire ecclésiastique , §1.13, trans. G. Bardy (SC, 31), Paris, 1986, p. 40-45. SC refers to the collection Sources chrétiennes. [2]  Égérie, Journal de voyage (Itinéraire) , §19, ed. et trans. P. Maraval (SC, 296, Paris, 1982, p. 202-213. [3]  A. Desreumaux et al. (trans.),  Histoire du roi Abgar et de Jésus  (Apocryphes, 1), Turnhout, 1993, p. 59 (§6). CANT refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . See J. A. Lollar, Doctrine of Addai, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/doctrine-of-addai . [4] C. Jullien – F. Jullien, (trans.),  Les   Actes de Mar-Mari. L’apôtre de la Mésopotamie (Apocryphes, 11), Turnhout, 2001, p. 67 (§3). See J. A. Lollar, Acts of Mar Mari, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/acts-of-mar-mari . [5]  Evagrius Scholasticus, The   Ecclesiastical History , §4.27, trans. M. Whitby (Translated Texts for Historians, 33), Liverpool, 2000, p. 226.   [6]   Procopius of Caesarea, The   Persian War , §2.26-27, ed. J. Haury – G. Wirth, Procopii Caesariensis Opera omnia , 1, De   Bellis Libri I-IV , Leipzig, 1962, p. 268-282. See A. Cameron, The History of the Image of Edessa: The Telling of a Story, dans Harvard Ukrainian Studies , 7 (1984) = Okeanos: Essays Presented to Ihor Ševčenko on His Sixtieth Birthday , ed. C. Mango – O. Pritsak, Cambridge (MA), p. 80-94. [7]  N. J. Hardy, Acts of Thaddaeus, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha ,  https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/acts-of-thaddaeus ; N. J. Hardy, Story of the Image of Edessa, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/story-of-the-image-of-edessa . Thaddeus is the Greek name for Addai. BHG refers to Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca . The second text exists in three versions, contained in the synaxaria (acronym A), pre-metaphrastic menologia (acronym B1), and metaphrastic menologia (acronym B2); see B. Flusin, L’image d’Édesse, Romain et Constantin, in A. Monaci Castagno (ed.), Sacre impronte e oggetti «non fatti da mano d’uomo» nelle religioni , Allesandria, 2011, p. 253-278. [8]  M. Guscin, The Image of Edessa (The Medieval Mediterranean, 82), Leiden, 2009, p. 42-45 (first copy); 46-47 (second copy); 20-25 (brick of Hierapolis); 32-39 (brick of Edessa) (§20; 23; 8-9; 15-17). [9]   Theophanes Continuatus , ed. I. Bekker, Bonn, 1838, p. 750 (Chronicle of Pseudo-Symeon Magistros, §52). [10]  B. Flusin (ed. and trans.), Didascalie de Constantin Stilbès sur le Mandylion et la sainte Tuile (BHG 796m), in Revue des études byzantines , 55 (1997), p. 53-79, ici 73 (§6), https://www.persee.fr/doc/rebyz_0766-5598_1997_num_55_1_1936 .

Giotto, Ascension of Saint John the Evangelist , Peruzzi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence (14th c.), https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Giotto_di_Bondone_-_Scenes_from_the_Life_of_St_John_the_Evangelist_-_3._Ascension_of_the_Evangelist_-_WGA09300.jpg . After the death of the Apostle and Evangelist John (late 1st century), his tomb did not become a place venerated by Christians, and later generations forgot its exact location. The oldest biography of the apostle only mentions that John himself lay down in a grave prepared for him by his disciples and gave up his spirit. However, later writers added their opinions on the matter: either John was still alive and sleeping underground in Ephesus, or John’s body disappeared, leaving only his sandals behind, or the apostle was taken up to heaven while still alive, or he was resurrected. Since there were no relics, they were replaced with a thaumaturgical dust called manna; according to a local legend, this manna flowed in abundance from the apostle’s tomb.   An unknown death Nothing is known with certainty about the place and date of the Evangelist John’s death. However, from the 2nd century, the city of Ephesus (present-day Selçuk, Turkey) began to claim John as its apostle. It seems that he was intentionally confused with another John, a   local priest. According to the historian Eusebius of Caesarea (4th c.) and other authors, this priest John had his tomb in Ephesus, and it was he, not the Apostle John, who wrote the Book of Revelation :   These words confirm the truth of the opinion of those who have said that there were two of the same name [i.e., John] in Asia, and that there are two tombs at Ephesus, both still called John’s. This calls for attention: for it is probable that the second (unless anyone prefers the former) saw the revelation that passes under the name of John.   [1]   Once the Apostle John had been integrated into the local tradition of Ephesus, an unknown author described his death in the Acts  of John ( CANT  215), the first biography of the saint (second half of the 2nd century). According to this account, after a long preparation and several prayers, John “lay down in the pit where he had spread his garments [and] gave up his spirit in joy.”  [2]  Following the ecclesiastical tradition of his time, the author was unaware of a privileged destiny of the Apostle John in the afterlife.  [3]   With few exceptions, all subsequent texts that recount the end of the apostle use the Acts  of John. However, they all amend the Acts , adding various miraculous events, according to the pleasure of their authors. According to an early version of the legend, commented on by Augustine of Hippo (4th-5th c.), John did not die, but slept in his tomb underground. His breathing caused the earth to rise slightly at the site of the burial and dust to rise to the surface.  [4]  This version most likely influenced the emergence of another legend, that of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, who slept for nearly two centuries before being resurrected.   However, leaving the Apostle John to sleep underground meant depriving him of heavenly glory. For this reason, a second tradition later emerged. According to the new legend, John’s body disappeared, and the disciples found nothing in the tomb but the apostle’s sandals.  [5]      The apotheosis of John These first two versions of the legend were intended to explain the absence of John’s relics and their replacement with the miraculous manna. However, from the 6th century onward, other writers developed these traditions further. On the one hand, the unknown author of a text falsely attributed to John Chrysostom, followed in the 10th century by Symeon the Metaphrast, considered that the living body of the Apostle John had been taken up to heaven, where he would rejoice in the company of the Prophet Elijah.  [6]  According to this author, during the annual feast of John (May 8), manna gushed forth from the tomb like a spring. It   never ceased to flow and always remained in sufficient quantity to fulfil the needs of the faithful: Just as it is impossible for the sea to empty itself when parts are taken from it, so it is impossible for this dust to be exhausted when it is distributed to the multitude.   [7] On the other hand, the idea of ​​a transfer to heaven was contradicted by writers like Niketas David the Paphlagonian (9th-10th c.) and Nikephoros Callistos Xanthopoulos (13th-14th c.), who thought that the Apostle John first died and then was resurrected, thus following the model of Christ.  [8]   All these speculations and legends had as their starting point a passage from the fourth Gospel, in which Jesus addresses Peter with these words: “If I want him [John] to remain until I come, what is that to you?" (John 21,22) In order not to encourage speculation about John’s final fate, the author still adds: “However, Jesus had not told Peter that he [John] would not die.” (John 21,23) These confused passages, interpreted in different ways, have led readers either to the idea of ​​the apostle’s bodily assumption into heaven or to the hypothesis of his resurrection.   The controversies between the partisans of the two opinions mirror an evolution in Christian thought on the death of the righteous. If the bodily ascension to heaven (as in the cases of Moses and Elijah) was sufficient proof of holiness for the early Christians, their followers sought to attribute to some chosen saints a death and resurrection similar to those of Christ. The case of the Apostle John is thus parallel to that of the posthumous fate of the Virgin Mary, about whom the first Christians did not know exactly where and how she died, nor whether she had been taken alive to heaven or resurrected by Christ.   In this mixture of opinions and legends, at Ephesus, the miraculous manna remained the only common point. Described as a fine, white dust, like either sand or flour, the manna was offered to pilgrims, who sometimes consumed it diluted in water or wine. According to a local tradition, it had a therapeutic role and cured the sick. This bizarre practice seems to have become for the faithful a new “ ordeal of the bitter water .” Likely, the dust of Ephesus had to compensate for the absence of relics. Paradoxically, the unknown tomb of John thus had the chance to become known thanks to this stratagem.   [1]  Eusèbe de Césarée, His toire ecclésiastique , §3.39.6, ed. and trans. G. Bardy (Sources chrétiennes, 31), Paris, 1986, p. 155-156.   [2]   Acta Iohannis , §115, ed. et trans. É. Junod – J.‑D. Kaestli (Corpus Christianorum Series Apocryphorum, 1-2), Turnhout, 1983, p. 314-315. See J. E. Spittler, Acts of John, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha ,  https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/acts-of-john . CANT  refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . [3]   J.‑D. Kaestli, Le rôle des textes bibliques dans la genèse et le développement des légendes apocryphes. Le cas du sort final de l’apôtre Jean, in Augustinianum , 23 (1983), p. 319‑336, here 323‑324 and n. 18. [4]  Augustine, Homilies on the Gospel of John , §124.2, ed. R. Willems, In Iohannis evangelium tractatus CXXIV  (Corpus Christianorum Series Latina, 36), Turnhout, 1954, p. 681-682, trans. M.‑F. Berrouard (Bibliothèque Augustinienne, 75), Turnhout, 2003, p. 433-435.   [5]   Acts of John by Pseudo-Prochorus ( CANT  218) , ed. T. Zahn, Acta Joannis , Erlangen, 1880, p. 164.12-165.4. See J. E. Spittler, Acts of John by Prochorus, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha ,  https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/acts-of-john-by-prochorus . [6]  Pseudo-John Chrysostom, Encomium on John the Theologian  ( CANT  224, CPG  4936), §3, ed.  Junod – Kaestli, Acta Iohannis , p. 414.8-14. See T. Burke, Encomium on John the Theologian by Pseudo-John Chrysostom, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/e-clavis-christian-apocrypha/encomium-on-john-the-theologian-by-pseudo-john-chrysostom ; Symeon the Metaphrast, Commentary on Saint John ( BHG  919), Patrologia Graeca (hereafter PG ), 116, col. 703. CPG refers to Clavis Patrum Graecorum ,  BHG to Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca . [7]  Pseudo-John Chrysostom, Encomium on John the Theologian , §4, p. 415.9-12, trans. p. 408, n. 2. [8]   Niketas David the Paphlagonian , Encomium on John the Theologian  ( BHG  930) , PG , 105, col. 124-125; Nikephoros Callistos Xanthopoulos , Ecclesiastical History , §2.42, PG , 145, col. 872-873. See M. Jugie, La mort et l’assomption de la Sainte Vierge  (Studi et Testi, 114), Vatican, 1944, p. 710-726; M. Detoraki, Livres censurés: Le cas de l’hagiographie byzantine, in Bulgaria Mediaevalis , 3 (2012), p. 45-58, here 53-55.

The Virgin Mary and the ordeal of the bitter water, wall painting in the church of Santa Maria foris portas in Castelseprio, Italy (ca. 9th c.), https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Maestro_di_castelseprio,_storie_dell%27infanzia_di_cristo,_datazione_incerta_tra_l%27830_e_il_950_dc_ca.,_12_prova_delle_acque_1.jpg#mw-jump-to-license , CC 3.0 BY Saliko. According to Jewish tradition, the husband who suspected his wife of adultery brought her to the Temple in Jerusalem, where she had to endure the ordeal of the bitter water. The test consisted of drinking a mixture of water and dust that was supposed to cause obvious signs of pain in the guilty woman and have no effect on the innocent. In contrast, the Christian tradition held a different belief; the same mixture of water and dust collected from holy places could heal those who consumed it.   The Jewish custom According to the Book of Numbers , the woman presumed to be guilty but not yet proven had to drink water mixed with dust collected from the tabernacle, after listening to the maledictions uttered by the priest. The effects of this water were immediate, and the woman received the verdict accordingly: If she has defiled herself and has been unfaithful to her husband, the water that brings the curse shall enter into her and cause bitter pain […], and the woman shall become an execration among her people. But if the woman has not defiled herself and is clean, then she will be cleared of guilt .   [1] More precise explanations of the drinking potion are found in the rabbinic commentaries included in the Mishnah  (ca. 3rd c.): the mixture contained either half a log (0.15 l) or a quarter of a log (0.075 l) of water and enough dust to be seen floating on the water.  [2]  Even with these explanations, the proportions of water and dust seemed to remain at the discretion of the rabbi, because the authors of the Jerusalem Talmud  (4th/5th c.), who develop the commentaries of the Mishnah , wonder again about this subject. According to them, the water had to maintain its transparent appearance and acquire, at the same time, the appearance of ink,  [3] which does not help much in clarifying the matter. In any case, the mixture had a concentration high enough to cause visible effects. In the case of guilt, the woman’s face became livid, her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head, and her veins swelled. The assistants shouted to take her away, “so that she would not defile the court” of the Temple, [4] a sign that a miscarriage or even death could take place.   According to the apocryphal Gospel of James  ( CANT  50), when the Virgin Mary’s pregnancy became public, she was taken to the Temple with Joseph. Accused of having violated the Law and consummated the marriage, Mary submitted to the ordeal of the bitter water, but the test proved her innocence. Unusually, Joseph had to undergo the same trial; therefore, in this context, he does not play the role of the accusing husband, but that of the potential culprit.  [5] The image of the Virgin Mary’s ordeal is depicted, among others, on the ivory chair of Maximian, Bishop of Ravenna (543-553) under Byzantine rule  [6] and on several ivory plaques and gospel covers dating from the same period.  [7]   A miraculous treatment While Jewish tradition indirectly suggested that mixtures of water and dust were generally dangerous to health, Christians developed a different custom. Dust collected from holy places was not only kept as a talisman, but also recommended as a drug. Without doubt, the idea that consuming dust diluted in water or wine could have therapeutic effects originally belonged to the pilgrimage centers themselves.     Several hagiographic texts attest to this bizarre custom in both the East and the West. According to the Life  of Simeon Stylites the Elder, the saint ordered the father of a sick child to give him water to drink with dust collected from around the stylite’s column.  [8] In the Life  of Simeon Stylites the Younger, a man was cured after dipping both the saint’s hair and dust from his monastery into water and then drinking it.  [9] According to Gregory of Tours, dust from the tomb of Saint Martin of Tours, diluted in water or wine, also produced cures.  [10]   The most impressive miracle, it was said, took place at Ephesus, at the tomb of the Apostle John, where a fine, white dust, described as resembling either sand or flour, was offered as a remedy to pilgrims. According to a local tradition, during the annual feast of John (May 8), this “manna” gushed forth like a spring.  [11] According to a 14th-century Catalan chronicler, the dust from Ephesus had precise prescriptions; anyone with a fever should drink the manna with water and he “will never have fever again,” while a woman who cannot give birth should drink it with wine and she “will be delivered at once.”  [12] In fact, the miracle of the manna was to compensate for the absence of the relics of John, of whom it was not known exactly whether he was asleep, taken up to heaven, or resurrected.   The miraculous appearance of the manna was celebrated on May 8, not on September 26, the calendar day dedicated to the death of the Apostle John. According to the Byzantine Synaxarion, the former date celebrated “the ceremony of the rosalia  and the harvest of the manna” (ὁ ροδισμὸς καὶ ἡ τρύγησις τοῦ μάννα).  [13] The rosalia  were ancient religious festivals, usually celebrated in May, which consisted of offerings of roses on the tombs of ancestors. It appears that in Ephesus, the Christians replaced the pagan festival of roses with the festival of the miraculous manna. Tastes and colors are not to be discussed, but this change made them forget the scent of roses, which could have somewhat softened the bitter taste of the dust.   [1]  Num. 5,27-28. [2]  Mishna, Sotah, §2.2, in Le Talmud de Jérusalem , vol. 6, trans. M. Schwab, Paris, 1883, p. 245, https://archive.org/details/letalmuddejrus6v7schw/page/245/mode/1up?view=theater . [3]   Talmud de Jérusalem , Sotah, §2.2, p. 247. According to the late commentaries of Moses Maimonides (1138-1204), mugwort was also added, so that the water became bitter (Moshe ben Maimon, Mishneh Torah ,  Sotah , §3.10, trans. E. Touger, https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/960640/jewish/Sotah-Chapter-Three.htm ). [4] Mishna, Sotah, §2.2, in Talmud de Jérusalem , p. 259. [5]   Gospel of James , §15-16, trans. A. Frey, in F. Bovon – P. Geoltrain (ed.), Écrits apocryphes chrétiens , vol. 1, Paris, 1997, p. 95-97. The episode is also included in the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew ( CANT  51), §12, trans. J. Gijsel, in Bovon – Geoltrain (ed.), Écrits apocryphes chrétiens , vol. 1, p. 130-132. CANT  refers to Clavis Apocryphorum Novi Testamenti . [6] See D. R. Cartlidge – J. K. Elliott, Art and the Christian Apocrypha , London, 2001, p. 85-87; M. Belch, Chair of Maximinianus, e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/materiae-apocryphorum/chair-of-maximianus . [7] Ivory plaque preserved in Paris, Musée du Louvre (6th c., Stroganoff collection),  https://collections.louvre.fr/en/ark:/53355/cl010112504 ; ivory gospel covers preserved in Erevan, Matenadaran (6th c., Gospel of Etchmiadzin), https://www.nasscal.com/materiae-apocryphorum/echmiadzin-gospels-covers .  [8] Syriac Life of Simeon Stylite the Elder , §91, in R. Doran (trans.), The   Lives of Simeon Stylites (Cistercian Studies Series, 112), Kalamazoo (MI), 1992, p. 169. See also H. Lietzmann (ed.), Das   Leben des Heiligen Symeon Stylites  (Texte und Untersuchungen, 32.4), Leipzig, 1908, p. 99 (§37, trans. H. Hilgenfeld). [9] P. Van Den Ven (ed. and trans.), Vie de Syméon Stylite le Jeune  ( BHG  1689), §232 (Subsidia Hagiographica, 32), Brussells, 1962-1970, vol. 2, p. 234.  [10] Grégoire de Tours, Les miracles de saint Martin , §2.1, trans. L. Pietri (Sources chrétiennes, 635), Paris, 2023, p. 188-189; §2.51-52, p. 266-269. [11] Pseudo-John Chrysostomos, Encomium of John the Theologian ( CANT  224), §4, in É. Junod – J. - D. Kaestli (e d.), Acta Iohannis  (Corpus Christianorum Series Apocryphorum, 1-2), Turnhout, 1983 , p. 415.9-12, trans. p. 408, n. 2. [12]   The Chronicle of Muntaner , §206, trans. A. K. Goodenough, London, 1920-1921, vol. 2, p. 500. See A. Papaconstantinou, La manne de saint Jean. À propos d’un ensemble de cuillers inscrites, in Revue des études byzantines , 59 (2001), p. 239-246, here 245, https://www.persee.fr/doc/rebyz_0766-5598_2001_num_59_1_2246 ; A. Halushak, Ampullae from Shrine of John,   e-Clavis: Christian Apocrypha , https://www.nasscal.com/materiae-apocryphorum/ampullae-from-shrine-of-john . [13] H. Delehaye (ed.), Synaxarium Ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae , Acta Sanctorum Propylaeum Novembris , Brussells, 1902, col. 663.10-11.