Echoes of a Forgotten Presence Reconstructing the History of the Church of the East in Central Asia

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Mark Dickens

Echoes of a Forgotten Presence Reconstructing the History of the Church of the East in Central Asia

orientalia – patristica - oecumenica vol. 15

LIT

Mark Dickens

Echoes of a Forgotten Presence

orientalia – patristica – oecumenica herausgegeben von/edited by

Dietmar W. Winkler (Universität Salzburg)

Vol. 15

LIT

Mark Dickens

Echoes of a Forgotten Presence Reconstructing the History of the Church of the East in Central Asia

LIT

In memory of Mar Yahbalaha III (d. 1317) For Ruth, Yaqub & Talitha Cover image: Archivio Segreto Vaticano, A.A.Arm. I-XVIII, 1800.1 Printed with the support of the Assyrian Church of the East, Commission on Inter-Church Relations and Educational Development

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. ISBN 978-3-643-91103-2 (pb) ISBN 978-3-643-96103-7 (PDF)

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents i Forward ii Introduction and Acknowledgements iv NESTORIUS, THE MISUNDERSTOOD “HERETIC” 1 SYRIAC GRAVESTONES IN THE TASHKENT HISTORY MUSEUM 25 PATRIARCH TIMOTHY IAND THE METROPOLITAN OF THE TURKS 65 MULTILINGUAL CHRISTIAN MANUSCRIPTS FROM TURFAN 96 CHRISTIAN CALENDRICAL FRAGMENTS FROM TURFAN 120 THE IMPORTANCE OF THE PSALTER AT TURFAN 149 SYRO-UIGURICA II: SYRIAC PASSAGES IN U 338 FROM TURFAN 173 SCRIBAL PRACTICES IN THE TURFAN CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY 189 BIBLICAL FRAGMENTS FROM THE CHRISTIAN LIBRARY OF TURFAN, AN EASTERN OUTPOST OF THE ANTIOCHIAN TRADITION 216 MORE GRAVESTONES IN SYRIAC SCRIPT FROM TASHKENT, PANJIKENT AND ASHGABAT 246 YAHBALAHA THE TURK: AN INNER ASIAN PATRIARCH OF THE EASTERN CHRISTIANS 272 Addenda et Corrigenda 293 Index 299 Comprehensive Bibliography 323 Images 363

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Forward Mar Awa ROYEL

The present volume, Echoes of a Forgotten Presence, is an anthology of articles concerning the missionary activities of the Assyrian Church of the East in Central Asia, beginning from the late eighth century onward. The au thor, Dr. Mark Dickens of St. Joseph’s College, University of Alberta, is one of the premier experts in this particular field of research. He has written ex tensively on the subject, and remains one of the principal researchers of the missionary activities of the Church of the East (often times referred to as the ‘East Syriac’ or ‘Persian’ Church) in the evangelized parts of Central Asia. The idea for this collection of research articles and essays was born around the Church’s desire to observe the 700th death anniversary of one of her most well-known catholicos-patriarchs, Mar Yahbalaha III (d. 1317). Be ing a Turco-Mongol of the Ongüt (or Uyghur) tribe, Mar Yahbalaha epito mizes a synthesis of the Syriac and Mongol aspects and elements of the Church prevalent at the time. His reign coincided with a period for the Church of the East that was marked by both liberty and oppression, as often was the case in her two-millennium history. With the conquest of the Abbas id caliphate by Hülagu Khan in 1258, a long-awaited ‘sigh of relief’ and era of reprieve was earnestly received by the Church of the East in the Middle East. In order to solidy the prestige and favored status of the Church by the Mongols, the fathers of the Church elected in 1281 an inconspicuous metro politan of China—Mar Marqos—to the highest office of the Church of the East. It was hoped that by electing Marqos as catholicos-patriarch, the ruling Mongol khans would favor the Church and grant freedom to the eastern Christians. Alas! That was only a short-lived aspiration. Yahbalaha’s reign was positively marked by a mix of pilgrimage, ambas sadorship, Christian ecumenical exchange and theological flourishing on the part of the Church of the East. However, it was towards the latter part of the patriarch’s reign that the political situation took a sour turn, and his patriar chate ended in despair for his ancient Christian community, to the point that ii

he himself was tortured. Sadly, on July 4th, 1310 he could not prevent the massacre of the Assyrian Christians living in the citadel at Erbil at the hands of the Ilkhan Oldjaïtu, empowered by the local Muslim community. Yahbalaha died on the 13th of November in 1317, in Maragha, and was bur ied at the monastery of St. John the Baptist which he had built at Maragha sixteen years previous. This volume, therefore, commemorates the personage of Patriarch Mar Yahbalaha III, seven centuries after his death. The work of the Church in the missionary outposts of Central Asia gradually declined after Yahbalaha’s death, and reached a definitive end in 1399-1400 with the military campaigns of Taïmur ‘the Lame’—who decimated the Christian population of the east, reducing it to the scanty numbers which have survived to this very day. Nonetheless, the glory of the Church of the East’s missions of yesteryear are memorialized in relics, fragments and potsherds—such as those at the famous site of Turfan in Xinjiang. The work of scholars on an international level brings to our present day the golden age of the past. The present volume is one such shining example of erudite scholarship that objectively studies the most famous among the Christian missions of yesteryear. The Assyrian Church of the East’s ecumenical and educational arm— CIRED—is happy to sponsor the publication of this present volume by LIT Verlag, Münster. Not only is the Church’s most famous missionary enterprise presented by a premier scholar in the field, but the present (and future) gener ations of the Church of the East are challenged to study the history of their Church and her evangelization of Asia in centuries past. May this volume be received with due appreciation and welcome by scholar and student alike. ♱ Mar Awa Royel Assyrian Church of the East Diocese of California November 2019

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Introduction and Acknowledgements Mark DICKENS This anthology contains ten of my articles which were previously pub lished in academic journals or edited volumes, with the addition of one new article on “Yahbalaha the Turk.” With a couple of exceptions, the articles oc cur in this volume in the order of publication. This project was proposed by my friend and colleague Mar Awa Royel, bishop of California for the Assyri an Church of the East, back in 2016. The original plan was to have it pub lished in 2017, the 700th anniversary of the death of Yahbalaha III, the only Turkic patriarch of the Church of the East (r. 1281-1317). Due to various per sonal and work-related matters, not to mention good old procrastination on my part, that auspicious date was unfortunately missed. If the good patriarch (who experienced challenges far greater than I ever have or will) were with us today, I like to think that he would be understanding of the delay. I am very grateful to Mar Awa for sponsoring this book and obtaining the funding that has enabled it to be published and to Dietmar Winkler, who agreed to include this anthology in the Orientalia-Patristica-Oecumenica se ries that he edits. I would also like to express my thanks for permission to reproduce the articles included in this volume to those who published them in their original form: Nestorius, the Misunderstood “Heretic” originally appeared as “Nesto rius did not intend to argue that Christ had a dual nature, but that view be came labeled Nestorianism” in Popular Controversies in World History: In vestigating History’s Intriguing Questions by Steve Danver, Editor, pp. 145 161. Copyright © 2010 by Steve Danver. All rights reserved. Reproduced with permission of ABC-CLIO, LLC, Santa Barbara, CA. Syriac Gravestones in the Tashkent History Museum originally ap peared in Hidden Treasures and Intercultural Encounters: Studies on East Syriac Christianity in China and Central Asia (Orientalia-Patristica Oecumenica, Vol. 1), ed. Dietmar W. Winkler & Li Tang (Wien: LIT Verlag, 2009), pp. 13-49. Patriarch Timothy I and the Metropolitan of the Turks originally ap peared in Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Vol. 20, Issue 2 (2010), pp. 117-139.

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Multilingual Christian Manuscripts from Turfan originally appeared in Journal of the Canadian Society for Syriac Studies, Vol. 9 (2009), pp. 22 42. Christian Calendrical Fragments from Turfan originally appeared in Living the Lunar Calendar, ed. J. Ben-Dov, W. Horowitz, and J. M. Steele (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2012), pp. 269-296. The Importance of the Psalter at Turfan originally appeared in From the Oxus River to the Chinese Shores: Studies on East Syriac Christianity in Central Asia and China (Orientalia-Patristica-Oecumenica, Vol. 5), ed. Li Tang and Dietmar W. Winkler (Wien: LITVerlag, 2013), pp. 357-380. Syro-Uigurica II: Syriac Passages in U 338 from Turfan originally ap peared in Hugoye: Journal of Syriac Studies, Vol. 16, Issue 2 (2013), pp. 301-324. Scribal Practices in the Turfan Christian Community originally ap peared in Journal of the Canadian Society for Syriac Studies, Vol. 13 (2013), pp. 32-52. Biblical Fragments from the Christian Library of Turfan, an Eastern Outpost of the Antiochian Tradition originally appeared in The School of Antioch: Biblical Theology and the Church in Syria (The Bible in the Chris tian Orthodox Tradition, Vol. 6), ed. Vahan Hovhanessian (Bern: Peter Lang, 2016), pp. 19-40, 87-97. More Gravestones in Syriac script from Tashkent, Panjikent and Ashgabat originally appeared in Winds of Jingjiao: Studies on Syriac Chris tianity in China and Central Asia (Orientalia-Patristica-Oecumenica, Vol. 9), ed. Li Tang and Dietmar W. Winkler (Wien: LITVerlag, 2016), pp. 105-129. The volume begins with an exploration of the story of Nestorius, whose influence permeates much of the later history of the Church of the East in Central Asia. I have subtitled this introductory article “The Misunderstood ‘Heretic’”; I believe that this is an accurate description of that hapless patri arch of Constantinople, as well as those in the Church of the East who were branded as “Nestorians” (and hence heretics) as a result of their association with Nestorius. For anyone who takes the time to examine texts (whether manuscript fragments or inscriptions) left behind by these “Nestorians,” it is plain that there is no more heresy to be found there than in the writings of other branches of Christianity. The anthology ends with a newly-written article that examines another important personage in the history of the Church of the East (particularly in relation to that history in Central Asia, the main focus of my academic re search): Mar Yahbalaha III. Although he is not well-known outside of those v

who specialize in Syriac Christianity, his is a story which deserves retelling, especially in light of his strong connections to the Mongol-Turkic world in the 13th and 14th centuries. In between these two bookends the reader will find nine other articles that consider various aspects of the history of Syriac Christianity in Central Asia. Most of these look at either inscriptions or manuscript fragments. All of them serve to reinforce the title of this volume – Echoes of a Forgotten Presence and to underline the challenges involved in Reconstructing the History of the Church of the East in Central Asia. A note about the format of these republished articles is also in order. In essence, they appear as they did in their earlier iterations. However, there are a few places where fonts (particularly Syriac and transliteration fonts) have been changed to ensure both uniformity and intelligibility, headings have been slightly adjusted to provide more clarity, images have been moved to the end of the volume or occasionally wording has been slightly changed to improve grammar, style or general readability. Additionally, there are some places where the formatting of references and bibliographical entries is slightly different from that found in the original publications. Every effort has been made to maintain stylistic consistency within each article, but the refer encing and bibliographic styles are not uniform throughout the volume. It should also be noted that the original pagination of the articles has not been preserved. None of these minor editorial changes affects the content of the articles in question. Of all the articles, only Nestorius, the Misunderstood “Heretic” required minimal re-writing in order to separate it from its previous title, which was not relevant to this volume. Where I wish to address errors or omissions in the original articles, I have done so in the Addenda et Corri genda section at the end of the volume. In particular, this section includes references to the current status of articles (whether written by myself or oth ers) that were forthcoming at the time of writing. I wish to express my profound thanks to the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin Preussischer Kulturbesitz and the Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften for access to and permission to reproduce images of the rele vant fragments from the Berlin Turfan Collection. All these images are copyright Depositum der BERLIN-BRANDENBURGISCHEN AKADEMIE DER WISSENSCHAFTEN in der STAATSBIBLIOTHEK ZU BERLIN Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Orientabteilung. Similarly, I am indebted to my friend and colleague Alexei Savchenko for the use of images he took of vari ous gravestones housed in Tashkent and other locations in the former Soviet Union. I am particularly thankful to my colleagues who were part of The vi

Christian Library at Turfan project to catalogue all known Christian frag ments that are part of the Turfan Collection in Berlin – Erica C.D. Hunter, Nicholas Sims-Williams and Peter Zieme – who are referenced frequently in the articles dealing with the Turfan materials. Finally, I am grateful to the fol lowing, who have provided assistance and valuable information in the pro cess of writing these articles: Christopher Atwood, Michal Biran, Pier Gior gio Borbone, Sebastian Brock, Thomas Carlson, J.F. Coakley, François de Blois, Desmond Durkin-Meisterernst, Amina Elbendary, Peter B. Golden, Amir Harrak, Wassilios Klein, Jonathan Loopstra, Rastin Mehri, Sergey Mi nov, Aleksandr Naymark, Andrew Palmer, Simone Raschmann, Salam Rassi, Christiane Reck, Steven Ring, Mar Awa Royel, Alexei Savchenko, Aho Shemunkasho, Sacha Stern, Werner Sundermann and David Taylor. The image on the cover is the seal of Yahballaha III, the Catholicos of the Church of the East, currently located in the Vatican Secret Archives (item A.A.Arm. I-XVIII, 1800.1). It goes without saying that any errors or omissions that have not been acknowledged and addressed in the Addenda et Corrigenda are solely my responsibility. Finally, I dedicate this book to my dear family: my wife Ruth and our two children Yaqub and Talitha. I am eternally grateful that you three are in my life. Thanks for your patience with my many foibles.

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1 NESTORIUS, THE MISUNDERSTOOD “HERETIC” Mark DICKENS SOAS, University of London Original publication information: “Nestorius did not intend to argue that Christ had a dual nature, but that view became labeled Nestorianism (PRO),” in Popular Controversies in World History: Investigating History’s Intri guing Questions, ed. Steven L. Danver (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2010), pp. 145-162. Introduction History is rarely kind to heretics, even less so to heresiarchs, those who devise systems of belief which lead the faithful astray. Their stories are usu ally told not by themselves, but by their opponents. In the process, they are condemned for questioning the religious status quo or offering innovative solutions to theological problems. Their beliefs are minutely scrutinized to discredit their views and they are often accused of immoral behavior, as fur ther evidence of their heretical thinking. Since those who triumph over the heretics often destroy most or all of their works, one can only evaluate them through the lens of their opponents. A list of heresiarchs from early Christianity would likely include Mar cion, Valentinus, Sabellius, Arius, Apollinarius of Laodicea and Nestorius. Undeniably, some of these men taught things diametrically opposed to the Bible, often involving alien systems of thought like Gnosticism. Much of what the Bible states about God, Christ, humanity and salvation requires that apparently opposite truths are held in dynamic tension with each other. Any attempt to legitimately define the Scriptural position on a subject frequently involves embracing paradox (for example, affirming that God knows all things and yet allows humans genuine free will). In addressing such paradox es, heresiarchs have often devised explanations which emphasize one side of the biblical perspective to the exclusion of the other side, resulting in theo logical imbalance. Most of those in the list above are universally regarded by scholars as clearly opposed to the basics of the Christian faith as outlined in the Bible and interpreted by the Church since apostolic times. However, about Nestori 1

us there is significantly less consensus; for the past century theologians have held widely divergent views on his teachings. Was he truly a heretic or was he rather a victim of church politics whose views have been subsequently misinterpreted, in part due to the exalted status of his opponent, Cyril of Al exandria? This article proposes the latter view; Nestorius does not deserve to be labeled a heretic, because he did not teach what he is accused of, namely that there were two persons in Christ. Historical and Theological Background After three centuries of surviving as an illegal religious sect within the Roman Empire, Christianity experienced a dramatic turn-around when Con stantine I (306-337) issued the Edict of Milan (313), signaling the end of official state opposition to the faith. The Christianization of the Empire pro ceeded apace over the next several decades, resulting in the proclamation of Christianity as the official state religion in 380 by Theodosius I (378-395). The reprieve from persecution and subsequent state sponsorship of Chris tianity meant church leaders could turn their attention to unresolved theologi cal issues which had been brewing for decades. There were both religious and political reasons for doing so. Church and State were increasingly inter connected and most Emperors viewed the ecclesiastical unity of the Empire as inextricably linked to its political unity; solving theological problems had serious implications for governing the Empire. Hence, beginning with Con stantine I at the Council of Nicaea (325), Emperors periodically convened ecumenical councils at which the gathered bishops debated issues vital to the doctrinal unity of the Church. The chief concerns at the first several ecumenical councils centered on two Christological issues: the relationship between the Son and the Father in the Trinity and the relationship between divinity and humanity in Christ. The first concern was at the heart of the Arian controversy, which was addressed at the Ecumenical Councils of Nicaea (325) and Constantinople (381). The second issue was the core of the Nestorian and Monophysite controversies, dealt with at the Ecumenical Councils of Ephesus (431) and Chalcedon (451). The essential problem is that the New Testament affirms both the divinity of Christ (John 1:1; 14:9-10; Rom. 9:5; Phil. 2:6; Col. 2:9) and his humanity (Matt. 4:2; Luke 2:40; John 4:6; 11:35; Heb. 2:14-15), but does not clearly explain how the two interact with or relate to each other. Various biblical statements on this relationship can be interpreted in several different ways, notably John 1:14 – “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth” and Phil. 2:5-11 – “Christ Jesus, who, be 2

ing in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.” Two contrasting views on the divine-human interaction in Christ were developed in the theological “schools” of Antioch (Syria) and Alexandria (Egypt). The Antiochians followed a literal and historical approach to biblical exegesis, while the Alexandrians favored an allegorical and philosophical approach. The emphasis that Antioch placed on the historical facts of Jesus’ life resulted in a strong focus on his humanity, whereas the more metaphysi cal approach of Alexandria produced a greater emphasis on his divinity. Im portant representatives of the Antiochian tradition include Paul of Samosata, Diodore of Tarsus, Theodore of Mopsuestia, John Chrysostom and Nestorius. The Alexandrian School produced Origen, Athanasius, Apollinarius of Laod icea, Cyril of Alexandria and Eutyches (both lists contain “saints” and “here tics”). A corollary of these different theological emphases was their approach to the role of the Logos, the pre-existent Word of God that became incarnate in Jesus Christ. Antiochians generally spoke of the Logos dwelling alongside the human in Jesus, resulting in two logical subjects in Christ (called Logos anthropos or “Word-man” theology). His humanity and divinity were distin guished from each other, joined in a moral union in which there was room for genuine development in Christ, including the exercise of his human will. In their biblical exegesis, the Antiochians usually differentiated between Chris tological statements in the Bible applicable to the divine Word, those appli cable to the human Christ and those applicable to the two together. In contrast, Alexandrians described the Word taking on flesh to such an extent that it became the sole logical subject of the person of Christ, with the practical result that his divinity often eclipsed his humanity in their thinking (called Logos-sarx or “Word-flesh” theology). The union was one of essence or substance, in which the human will was eclipsed by the divine will. All Christological statements in the Bible, including those about his birth, suffer ing and death, were ultimately ascribed to the divine Logos become flesh (and therefore to God). Not surprisingly, Alexandrians accused Antiochians of preaching two Sons or a divided Christ, while Antioch viewed the Alexan drian reduction of Christ to essentially one divine nature as unbiblical and therefore heretical. These two positions eventually crystallized into the Dyophysite view (from Greek dyophysitai, “two natures,” referring to the di vine and human natures of Christ) championed by Nestorius and the Miaphy site perspective (from Greek mia physis, “one nature”) inherited from Cyril.

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Taken to their logical extremes, both viewpoints could end up in heretical thinking. The Antiochian Paul of Samosata (d. 275), taught that Jesus was merely a man in whom the Holy Spirit dwelt, whereas the Alexandrian Apol linarius of Laodicea (d. ca. 390) argued that the human mind in Christ had been replaced by the divine mind of the Logos. Apollinarius also coined the phrase “one incarnate nature of the God Logos,” later used by Cyril, who thought it came from Athanasius, the great champion of Nicene Christianity. The teachings of both Paul and Apollinarius were subsequently condemned by church councils. On the same basis, many scholars would also include as examples of the heretical potential in the two competing theological systems the names of Nestorius and Eutyches (representing Antioch and Alexandria, respectively), both condemned by the Council of Chalcedon (451). Another key factor was the increasing rivalry between the apostolic sees (or patriarchates) of Antioch, Alexandria and Constantinople. Initially, there had been near equality between Rome, Antioch and Alexandria, with Rome being accorded the status of “first among equals.” However, Canon 3 of the Council of Constantinople (381) moved the new capital Constantinople into second place after Rome (a position strengthened by Canon 28 of the later Council of Chalcedon). This move particularly irked the patriarchs of Alex andria, who looked back to the evangelist Mark as their apostolic founder and had called themselves “popes” since the patriarchate of Heraclas (232-248). By contrast, any claim by Constantinople to apostolic foundation had to be fabricated (and was, in the person of the apostle Andrew). Four Key Terms It is easy for those accustomed to the formula “Christ is one person in two natures” to wonder how Christians could conceive of any other way of ex pressing the biblical claim that divinity and humanity dwell together in Jesus of Nazareth. However, such formulas do not arrive pre-packaged overnight, but result from decades of proposing, challenging and reformulating ideas. Furthermore, concepts expressing human psychological make-up can differ radically between languages and cultures and can change significantly over time, especially concerning the idea of “personhood.” This is particularly true of four Greek terms at the center of the Nestorian controversy: ousia, physis, prosopon and hypostasis. Ousia (pl. ousiai) is usually translated as “substance, essence.” It can also mean the “true nature” of something. Physis (pl. physeis) refers to “nature,” as in “the natural world” and “the natural form or constitution” of a person or thing. Prosopon (pl. prosopa) literally means “face, countenance, mask, role” and by extension “person” (Latin persona); it usually refers to the outward 4

appearance of a person, rather than the inner ego. Hypostasis (pl. hypostaseis) refers to “that which stands under” and by extension, “foundation, substra tum, support.” Originally a scientific term, it was used in philosophy to refer to “substance, real nature, essence” (Latin substantia, essentia). In early Christian thought, hypostasis was considered a synonym of both ousia and physis, resulting in considerable confusion until it was differentiated from ousia by Basil of Caesarea (d. 379) and from physis by the Council of Chal cedon (451). Although Basil introduced the idea that hypostasis could be un derstood to mean “person,” this was not universally accepted until after it was used as such in the Definition of Chalcedon. Not surprisingly, the use of these terms with multiple and changeable meanings resulted in significant misunderstanding, especially between the representatives of Antiochian Christology and Alexandrian Christology. Sa bellius (fl. ca. 215) had referred to one hypostasis manifested under three dif ferent prosopa to express his modalistic view of the Trinity (denounced by Tertullian and Hippolytus), in which the Father, Son and Holy Spirit were viewed as three different modes or aspects of one God (rather than three dis tinct persons within the Godhead). Tainted by this association with Sabellian ism, prosopon was considered by Basil to be an inherently weak term for de scribing the three persons in the Trinity (Turcescu 1997, 386, 388, 390-1). This had implications for the Nestorian controversy, since Nestorius used prosopon to designate where the union between divinity and humanity oc curred in Christ. The interchangeability of ousia, physis, and hypostasis caused even more problems. The original version of the Nicene Creed adopted in 325 quite clearly anathematized “those who pretend that the Son of God is ‘of other hypostasis or substance’ [ousia]” from the Father (Stevenson and Frend 1987, 345). The intention was to guard against the Arian idea that Christ was of one substance (created), the Father of another (uncreated). However, the equation of hypostasis and ousia made it initially impossible to locate the un ion in the hypostasis of Christ (which Nicaea clearly stated was shared by the Father and Son). Since the union was not common to the whole Trinity, but only to the Son, it had to take place in a part of Christ that was not shared with the Father. This problem was only overcome when Basil of Caesarea, displaying genuine theological creativity, disregarded the anathema attached to the Ni cene Creed (the “gold standard” of orthodoxy) and differentiated the two terms, affirming three separate hypostaseis in one ousia of the Godhead (Turcescu 1997, 377-8, 383-5, 388, 393). However, although this distinction was accepted in relation to the Trinity, “there is not any clear evidence that… 5

a similar differentiation between ousia and hypostasis, had been extended in the time of Cyril to the Christological problem” (Loofs 1914, 71). Meanwhile, the difference between physis and hypostasis was only made clear at Chalcedon (and then only to those who accepted its Definition, which acknowledged Christ in two physeis and one hypostasis). For many, the Chalcedonian Definition was illogical, because “if one is to speak of two na tures, this implies two hypostaseis, and if one speaks of one hypostasis, this implies one nature” (Brock 1996, 24). Thus, since Cyril often equated the two terms, his statements about “one hypostasis in Christ” could be (and were) interpreted as references to “one nature in Christ.” Conversely, Antio chians (like Nestorius) who asserted two natures (physeis) in Christ were often understood by the Alexandrians to be promoting the idea of two persons (hypostaseis) in Christ. Not surprisingly, many Miaphysites have historically viewed the Dyophysite (“two-nature”) Christology of Chalcedon as just a “reworking of Nestorianism.” The Rise and Fall of Nestorius When Sisinnius I, Patriarch of Constantinople, died in December 427, Emperor Theodosius II (408-450) chose Nestorius, a Syrian monk and disci ple of Theodore of Mopsuestia, to replace him. Nestorius was consecrated as Bishop of Constantinople in April 428. The church historian Socrates Scho lasticus describes him as “distinguished for his excellent voice and fluency of speech,” but his subsequent actions revealed the “violent and vainglorious temperament,” of one who “continually disturbed the public tranquility” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 287-8). Whether or not Nestorius was as arrogant as Socrates claims, his actions reveal why the people of the capital nicknamed him the “incendiary” bishop. In his inaugural sermon he asked the emperor’s assistance in purging the realm of heretics. When he attempted to impose his authority over the Arians in Constantinople, a fire and riot ensued in the city. Demonstrating both reli gious zeal and political naivety, Nestorius proceeded to attack immorality in public entertainment, to bring the city’s monks under his ecclesiastical juris diction, to restrict the involvement of aristocratic women in ecclesiastical af fairs, and to challenge the role of the Augusta (Empress) Pulcheria, the pow erful sister of Theodosius II. In so doing, he alienated the general population, the monks, the aristocracy and the Empress. This was to haunt him during the subsequent theological controversy; while his opponent Cyril of Alexandria (412-444) “had an immensely strong personal power-base in his own church… Nestorius had set almost everyone against him on the home front” (McGuckin 1996, 20). 6

Although these actions played a role in Nestorius’ eventual downfall, the main complaints about him concerned his Antiochian Christological views and particularly his rejection of the term Theotokos, “Bearer/Mother of God,” to describe the Virgin Mary. When the presbyter Anastasius preached against the use of Theotokos, saying “It is impossible that God should be born of a human being,” Nestorius backed him up and began to also preach against the term, urging instead the use of Christotokos, “Bearer/Mother of Christ,” since it avoided the implication that divinity had its source in humanity. However, as Socrates notes, he “acquired the reputation among the masses of asserting that the Lord was a mere man.” Although Socrates concluded this was not what Nestorius actually taught, he critiqued him for not paying adequate at tention to earlier theologians’ use of Theotokos (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 288-9). Nestorius’ rejection of the term was seen by the general populace, who increasingly venerated Mary, as an assault on their religious devotional life and Pulcheria (a consecrated virgin with a reputation for prayer and good works) probably interpreted Nestorius’ opposition to Theotokos as a personal attack (Russell 2000, 32-3). Meanwhile, to Cyril of Alexandria, Nestorius’ position amounted to questioning the divinity of Christ. Cyril had succeeded his uncle Theophilus (responsible for the deposition and exile of John Chrysostom in 403) as Patriarch of Alexandria in 412. He was a brilliant and articulate theologian, but also a power-hungry and unscru pulous man who has been blamed for the death of the Alexandrian philoso pher Hypatia (d. 415). Against the backdrop of strained relations between Al exandria and Constantinople, Nestorius’ indiscretions provided Cyril with an “opportunity to deal a deadly blow to the authority and prestige of the church in the capital” (Frend 1972, 17). Hearing of Nestorius’ rejection of Theoto kos, he began in early 429 to investigate further and to strengthen his allianc es with the monks of both Egypt and Constantinople, who were to prove key allies in the evolving Nestorian controversy (Frend 1972, 136-42). “Defining the theological dispute in its starkest terms, Cyril declared that if Mary is not Theotokos… then Christ is not God” (Wessel 2004, 77). In June, Cyril wrote his first letter to Nestorius, urging him to restore peace in the Church by agreeing to the use of Theotokos. Nestorius replied in peaceable terms, but did not abandon his position. Cyril’s second letter to Nestorius, written in early 430, asserted that “Scripture does not say that the Word united to himself the person of a man, but that he became flesh… This is the doctrine which strict orthodoxy every where prescribes… So did they [the Church Fathers] make bold to call the holy Virgin Theotokos” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 297). As the rhetorical temperature rose, Nestorius replied in a more aggressive tone, asserting that 7

Christ should be spoken of as “Christ, the common title… of the natures… impassible [incapable of suffering pain] in godhead, passible in his bodily nature” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 298-9). At the same time, Cyril wrote to his agents in Constantinople concerning reports that Nestorius had met with Egyptian clerics opposed to Cyril. The vitriolic nature of his campaign against Nestorius can be heard clearly in the letter: “For supporting my ene mies he shall give answer to God… that wretched man shall not hope that he can be my judge. I will withstand him, if I come hither, and it is he who shall answer for error” (Loofs 1914, 33-4; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 100-2). Cyril also wrote letters against Nestorius to the Emperor Theodosius, his sister Pulcheria, his wife Eudocia, and Pope Celestine I of Rome (422-432). His cogent arguments, eloquent rhetorical style and attention to protocol helped win most of the recipients over to his position, although Theodosius persisted in supporting Nestorius until shortly after the Council of Ephesus. Nestorius also wrote to Celestine, but due to various factors, the Pope had already decided in Cyril’s favor (Loofs 1914, 41-5; Frend 1972, 17) and Nes torius was condemned at a church synod held in Rome in August 430, after which Celestine wrote to Cyril delegating to him “the authority of our see” to ensure that if Nestorius did not “condemn in writing this wicked preaching of his… he is in every way removed from our body” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 300). Despite theological differences between Rome and Alexandria, both were wary of the rising influence of Constantinople as the imperial see, contributing to a natural alliance between the two against Nestorius. Seemingly oblivious to the trouble brewing, Nestorius wrote a third time to Celestine in November, saying he was not opposed to the use of Theoto kos, “unless it should advance to the confusion of natures in the manner of the madness of Apollinaris or Arius. Nonetheless, I have no doubt that the term Theotokos is inferior to the term Christotokos” (DelCogliano 2005). It is clear from this and other comments of Nestorius that he was not entirely op posed to the use of Theotokos, but “he refuses to use it by itself, as Cyril con stantly did, without adequate qualification” (Anastos 1962, 122). Meanwhile, Theodosius II summoned an Ecumenical Council to meet at Ephesus at Pen tecost 431. Although Nestorius welcomed this as an opportunity to confront Cyril, the Council was to prove his undoing, given the way his teaching and actions as Patriarch had alienated so many. Cyril then wrote a third letter to Nestorius, an unequivocal ultimatum. In it, he accused Nestorius of “[having] given offence to the universal Church, and [having] cast the leaven of a novel and strange heresy amongst the laity.” Referring to the synod in Rome which had condemned him, Cyril called on Nestorius “to abstain from these mischievous and perverse doctrines,” reas 8

serting Celestine’s words that failure to do so within a specified time limit would result in Nestorius having neither “place nor rank among the priests and bishops of God” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 301-2). Cyril went on to outline again his Christological position, centered on a “personal union of the Word with the flesh” a union similar to that of soul and body in man, rather than the “conjunction” of the two natures that Nestorius preached (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 302-3). Challenging the traditional Antiochian position, he affirmed that “we do not distribute the Words of our Saviour in the Gospels to two several subsist ences or Persons. For the one and sole Christ is not twofold… to one Person, therefore, must be attributed all the expressions… the one incarnate hyposta sis of the Word” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 305). Cyril’s “hypostatic un ion” – locating the joining of Christ’s divinity and humanity in the hypostasis – contrasted with Nestorius’ “prosopic union,” which placed the union in the prosopon. The picture is complicated still further by Cyril’s use of physis and hypostasis as synonyms, so that “one hypostasis” could also mean “one na ture,” as noted above (Frend 1972, 121-2). After a final defense of the term Theotokos, Cyril attached twelve anath emas to his letter (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 307-8). To avoid excommuni cation, Nestorius had to agree to all twelve. In issuing the anathemas, Cyril had clearly overstepped the authority delegated to him by Celestine. They presented a strong Alexandrian position that no Antiochian could agree with. Moreover, the dispute between Cyril and Nestorius had become so personal that the latter was probably beyond agreeing to anything the former proposed, even where there were grounds for genuine theological agreement. Several of the anathemas were highly problematic for Nestorius and his Antiochian al lies (not to mention later proponents of Chalcedonian theology), particularly anathemas 3 and 4, which condemned anyone who “divides the personalities, i.e. the human and the divine, after the union” or “distributes to two Persons or Subsistences (hypostaseis) the expressions used both in the Gospels and in the Epistles… attributing some to a man… [and others] to the Word” (Ste venson and Frend 1989, 307; Uthemann 2007, 483). Undoubtedly, theological issues were at the heart of the conflict between Cyril and Nestorius. “The issue was… about the nature of salvation… Cyril and Nestorius approached it from different starting-points, Cyril… asking how does the Word become human without ceasing to be divine, Nestorius… asking how is the man Jesus Christ divine without compromising his humani ty” (Russell 2000, 40). At the same time, the conflict became “not primarily theological… but largely personal, ecclesiastico-political, and terminologi cal” (Anastos 1962, 120). Nestorius received Cyril’s letter and Celestine’s 9

sentence of excommunication in December 430. He responded to Cyril by sending him counter-anathemas and then quoted Cyril’s anathemas to John of Antioch (429-441) in order to ensure his support at the impending ecumeni cal council. John subsequently enlisted the aid of the Antiochian theologian and historian Theodoret of Cyrrhus. Meanwhile, Marius Mercator, a Latin writer living in Constantinople, began to write against Nestorius and Cyril wrote to “the Orientals” (the Antiochians), particularly Theodoret, defending his ideas. The battle lines were being drawn. The Council of Ephesus and its Aftermath In early June 431, approximately 200 bishops gathered in Ephesus. Apart from ten accompanying Nestorius, most were Cyril’s allies, since John of Antioch and his delegation of forty-three bishops had been delayed. Despite receiving a letter from John announcing their imminent arrival, the council began without them, under Cyril’s leadership. Ignoring protests from the Emperor’s representatives and gathering in the Great Church of St. Mary the Theotokos in Ephesus, the council proceeded to depose and excommunicate Nestorius on June 22. Although summoned to appear, Nestorius refused, rightly understanding that he would not get a fair trial. He later wrote of the council, that Cyril “was everything – accuser and Emperor and judge… Who is judge? Cyril. And who the accuser? Cyril. Who the bishop of Rome? Cyril. Cyril was everything… If then these things are so… where was the need of a synod?” (Bethune-Baker 1908, 38-9; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 132). When John and the Antiochian bishops arrived on June 26, they convened an alternate council and immediately deposed Cyril and Memnon, bishop of Ephesus and Cyril’s ally, as well as excommunicating their supporters who refused to “anathematize the heretical propositions of Cyril” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 309). When the Pope’s legates reached Ephesus on July 10, they supported Cyril, giving papal assent to Nestorius’ deposition. Meanwhile, the Antiochian party refused to have anything to do with the “Cyrillians,” to which the main council under Cyril responded by excommunicating any bishop who “has joined himself to the assembly of revolt” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 310). Theodosius was still backing Nestorius at this point, but his support was wavering. On July 17, he ordered that Cyril and Memnon be deposed along with Nestorius. All three were arrested in August, after which both sides wrote letters to the Emperor, appealing their case. Finally, on September 11, 431, Theodosius dissolved the council, sending Nestorius back to his monas tery in Antioch, while Cyril returned in victory to Alexandria, having over come the imperial judgment against him by the distribution of extensive 10

bribes to the court in Constantinople, a practice he repeated later on to main tain his position of favor with the imperial family and to ensure that the Anti ochians would agree to the Formula of Reunion in 433 (Bethune-Baker 1908, 10-1; Loofs 1914, 55-6; Driver and Hodgson 1925, 279-82, 349-51). Although Alexandria hailed him as a conquering hero, one of the Egyp tian monks, Isidore of Pelusium (d. ca. 449), compared him unfavorably with his reviled uncle Theophilus, accusing him of being “a man bent on pursuing his private animosities, not… one who seeks in correct belief the things of Jesus Christ” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 319), a view echoed by many modern commentators: “Cyril was incapable of writing an uncontroversial work… His abiding passion was the destruction of Antiochene teaching” (Frend 1972, 135). All this casts into serious question the validity and hence authority of the Council of Ephesus. Over the next two years, the Emperor and the two sides in the conflict conducted negotiations aimed at reconciliation. Cyril was especially motivat ed to see this happen, for the Council of Ephesus could not be considered as binding unless there was unanimous agreement to its decision. Without the support of Antioch, the ecclesiastical legitimacy of Nestorius’ deposition was questionable and Cyril’s position was vulnerable. Finally, in April 433, in response to an Antiochian proposal, Cyril wrote a letter to John of Antioch “to make peace between the Churches” and agreed to the Formula of Reun ion, probably drawn up by Theodoret of Cyrrhus. The Formula was a compromise theological statement which favored the Antiochian “two-nature” position over the Alexandrian “one-nature” position and made no mention of Cyril’s contentious anathemas, but confessed Mary as Theotokos (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 314-5). As Loofs points out, Cyril “could have come to an agreement with him [Nestorius] as easily as with the Antiochians afterwards in 433, if he had not had… an interest in discrediting him” (Loofs 1914, 41). As it was, to secure the peace, the Antiochians had to accept the decisions of Ephesus as binding, including the deposition of Nes torius. Thus, in exchange for a theological agreement which he would have whole-heartedly agreed with, Nestorius was sacrificed and thereafter consid ered a “heretic.” That Cyril had not abandoned his essentially “one-nature” approach is ev ident from a letter he wrote to fellow Alexandrians to defend his acceptance of the Formula of Reunion, in which he stated unequivocally “after the union [the Incarnation] we do not divide the natures from each other… but say ‘one Son’ and, as the fathers have put it, ‘one incarnate nature of the Word’.” This final phrase was a quote from the heretical Apollinarius which Cyril believed to be from Athanasius (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 318). Although the Antio 11

chian bishops agreed to acknowledge Cyril as orthodox, many initially re fused to accept the deposition of Nestorius. However, by 437, all had finally agreed to this, many albeit reluctantly. Nestorius had become expendable and denouncing him was the price of theological peace: “John of Antioch… and Pope Celestine of Rome ended up taking the side of Cyril against Nestorius, not for theological reasons, but for church-political reasons… there is no evi dence that they held a different viewpoint from Nestorius. Actually, all the evidence indicates that they held precisely the same view” (Braaten 1963, 252). Meanwhile, in 435, Theodosius had officially banned “the impious books of the said lawless and blasphemous Nestorius” and forbidden his followers “all right of assembly,” an edict which was re-issued in modified form in 448, during the height of Theodosius’ subsequent support for Eutyches (Mil lar 2006, 176-7, 186-7). Nestorius himself was banished to Arabia in 436, eventually ending up in the Egyptian desert. The deaths of John of Antioch (440) and Cyril (444) ended this chapter in church history. It was followed by the Monophysite controversy, a theological antithesis to the Nestorian con troversy. Once again trouble brewed when Eutyches, an archimandrite (sen ior abbot) in Constantinople, adopted an extreme Monophysite position, claiming that Christ was not “consubstantial with us,” but was rather “after the union, one nature,” essentially denying his humanity (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 335-6). Eutyches was condemned at a local synod in Constanti nople in 448 by Patriarch Flavian (446-449), but managed to secure the sup port of his godson Chrysaphius (the Emperor’s Grand Chamberlain) and Cyr il’s successor Dioscorus (444-451), who together convinced Theodosius to convene the Second Council of Ephesus in August 449. Shortly before this Council, Pope Leo I (440-461) wrote his famous Tome to Flavian, which denounced Eutyches in the strongest terms. The Tome had many affinities with Antiochian Christology, employing numerous phrases reminiscent of the teaching of Theodore of Mopsuestia and Nestorius, alt hough this theological debt was not acknowledged (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 336-44). However, at the 449 Council (known to history as the Latrocinium or “Robber’s Council”), Dioscorus prevented Leo’s Tome from being read out, reversed the earlier condemnation of Eutyches, deposed Fla vian (who died shortly afterwards from mistreatment at the hands of Eu tyches’ supporters) and ratified Cyril’s twelve anathemas (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 345-9). It was another, albeit temporary, victory for Alexandria. The actions of the 449 Council were reversed by the decisions of the Council of Chalcedon in 451, convened in order to deliver “a Christological statement… that would end all uncertainty and dispute, uniting the church 12

and empire” (Gray 2005, 221). In the end, the Council deposed Dioscorus, condemned Nestorius (again) and Eutyches, and adopted a Definition of Faith which acknowledged Christ “in two natures [physeis]… one Person [prosopon] and one subsistence [hypostasis]” (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 353). In an attempt to harmonize two increasingly different theological posi tions, the Definition of Chalcedon accepted both “the synodical letters of the blessed Cyril… to Nestorius” (but not Letter III with the twelve anathemas) and the Tome of Leo. Whether or not this attempt was successful is still an open question (Uthemann 2007, 488-90). As Loofs notes, “there is no real harmony between these different standards of faith”; there is a basic “dishar mony between the Cyrillian tradition and that of the western church repre sented by Leo” (Loofs 1914, 96). Thus, somewhat illogically, although Chalcedon virtually eulogized “the blessed Cyril” in its Definition, it anathematized “those who feign that the Lord had two natures before the union, but… one after the union,” a perfect description of Cyril’s position (Stevenson and Frend 1989, 352). Nonethe less, for the sake of ecclesiastical unity, the rallying cry was “Cyril and Leo taught alike” (Frend 1972, 48) and Nestorius continued to be the scapegoat, even though the language of the Definition of Faith, “apart from the word ‘hypostasis’… was exactly that used… by the West and by Nestorius” (Gray 2005, 222). Indeed, paradoxically, “the essence of Nestorius’ beliefs, without his name attached to them, came to be affirmed at the Council of Chalcedon under a Cyrillian guise” (Bevan 2007, 40). Again, although the Western posi tion coincided theologically more with the Antiochian position, “tactically and emotionally Rome was the ally of Alexandria” (Frend 1972, 131-4) and in the end tactics trumped theological consistency. By this time, Cyril’s status as the champion of orthodoxy had become vir tually unassailable; “at Chalcedon and for the century after each party [Chal cedonian or Miaphysite] was able to claim Cyril for their own and set one quotation from his works against another” (Frend 1972, 23). This universally favorable view of Cyril after Ephesus has traditionally been interpreted as evidence of the superiority of his theological views over those of Nestorius, but some have suggested that it equally reflects his polished rhetorical skills: “Nestorius’ homiletic discourse was pedantic and recondite in style, while Cyril’s was lively” (Wessel 2004, 9). Although some in Constantinople were concerned over Cyril’s references to “one incarnate nature” in Christ, espe cially in light of his equation of hypostasis with physis (so that his “one hy postasis in Christ” could easily be interpreted as “one nature in Christ”), these objections were overcome by “Cyril’s mastery of rhetorical argumenta tion” (Wessel 2004, 298, 301). Throughout this time, up to his death some 13

time after 450, Nestorius remained in exile in Egypt, well-informed of eccle siastical developments, as we learn from his extant memoirs, to which we now turn. Accusations against Nestorius and the Bazaar of Heracleides The standard accusations against Nestorius can be summed up as follows: 1. By rejecting the term Theotokos, he ignored the importance of the communicatio idiomatum (the idea that all the attributes of divini ty in Christ can be attributed to his humanity and vice versa) and challenged (or even denied) the divinity of Christ, presenting him rather as a “mere man.” 2. By calling the union of divinity and humanity in Christ a “con junction” of the two natures and promoting a “prosopic union” ra ther than Cyril’s “hypostatic union,” he devalued the idea that “the Word became flesh.” 3. By differentiating between Christ’s humanity and divinity, he promoted “two persons,” “two Sons” and “two Christs,” rather than a unified person. Did Nestorius actually teach any of these things? In order to determine this, his extant writings need to be analyzed. Until the late nineteenth century, this task was particularly difficult, since only a few of his works remained, nearly all in carefully-selected fragments preserved in the Acts of the Council of Ephesus or the writings of Cyril and others or disguised as sermons of John Chrysostom (Bethune-Baker 1908, 23-5; Loofs 1905; Nau 1910, 335 58; Driver and Hodgson 1925, 382-98). However, the discovery in 1889 of the Bazaar of Heracleides, a Syriac translation of Nestorius’ defense of his life and doctrine, gave scholars new insights into the teachings of the con demned “heretic.” The work, originally composed in Greek under the pseu donym Heracleides (so as not to attract the attention of those intent on burn ing Nestorius’ writings), was probably finished sometime between late 450 and late 451, around the time of the Council of Chalcedon (Driver and Hodg son 1925, x; Bevan 2007, 42). Although there are no references to Chalcedon in the book, it has been proposed that Nestorius was actually summoned to the Council, but died en route (Bevan 2007, 42-51). As Driver and Hodgson (the English translators of the work) note, Nesto rius’ aim was to show that “his own condemnation at Ephesus was unjust” and “the vindication of Flavian [after the 449 Council]… was the vindication of all that he [Nestorius] had stood for.” Over and over again he makes the point that his doctrines are consistent with the Bible, the Nicene Creed and 14

the Church Fathers (Driver and Hodgson 1925, xxix-xxxi). Some have ques tioned how much the Bazaar accurately expresses his position 20 years earli er during the height of the controversy. However, as Anastos has noted, “it remains legitimate to allow him to be judged by his own latest and most ma ture efforts” (Anastos 1962, 121). All commentators on the Bazaar agree that there are significant problems in understanding the text. A major objection concerns the unity of the book, which can be divided into two parts: a Dialogue between Nestorius and Sophronius (Driver and Hodgson 1925, 7-86) and an Apology by Nestorius (Driver and Hodgson 1925, 87-380). Some have maintained that, whereas the Apology is unquestionably by Nestorius, the Dialogue is the work of a later author, Pseudo-Nestorius (Turner 1975, 306-8), but this idea has been disput ed by others (Chesnut 1978, 392-8). Most scholars note the serious stylistic challenges the work presents, challenges which in part explain why Nestori us’ ideas were never broadly accepted: “It is not possible… to gather together a series of quotations from the Bazaar which, without explanation of linkage, will give a coherent and connected account of the Incarnation” (Vine 1948, 188). Even Anastos, who regards him as “indubitably orthodox” and the “most brilliant theologian of the fifth century” describes the repetition in the Bazaar as “frustrating, wearisome, and painful” and concludes that his major defects were “the obscurity and prolixity of his style” (Anastos 1962, 123, 140). Nonetheless, careful consideration of both the Bazaar and the other ex tant fragments of Nestorius’ writings can greatly help in dispelling some of the misunderstandings about his teaching that persist to this day. Although scholars continue to disagree over exactly what he taught, the work clearly shows that he denied 1) an essential union of the divine and human natures in Christ (i.e. a union of the essence or substance of each nature); 2) any trans formation from Godhead to manhood or vice versa in the Incarnation; 3) the idea that Christ was just another “inspired man”; 4) the notion that either of the two natures in Christ was not real; 5) the suffering of the divine Logos during the Incarnation; and 6) the idea of “two Sons” in Christ (Driver and Hodgson 1925, xxxii). Let us now analyze the key accusations against Nesto rius with reference to his defense in the Bazaar. Nestorius’ Rejection of Theotokos As noted above, Nestorius’ rejection of Theotokos is seen by many as ig noring the importance of the communicatio idiomatum (the sharing of attrib utes between the divinity and humanity of Christ) and thus challenging the divinity of Christ. However, these accusations ignore several facts. First, 15

Nestorius’ objection to Theotokos, politically-unwise as it was, was based on biblical statements which speak of Mary as the mother of “Jesus,” “Christ” or “the Son of God,” but not “God” (e.g. Matt. 1:16, 18-25; Luke 1:31, 35; 2:11; John 2:1-5; 19:25; Acts 1:14; Gal. 4:4). In contrast to those who viewed Mary “as in some kind of way divine, like God,” Nestorius claimed to be fol lowing both “the holy fathers of Nicaea” and “the Scriptures” in his opposi tion to Theotokos (Bethune-Baker 1908, 17); indeed, he was on much more solid exegetical ground than Cyril and others who championed the term. Second, although he preferred Christotokos to Theotokos, Nestorius did not completely exclude the use of the latter, as long as it was clarified. As he stated in a sermon, “If any of you or any one else be simple and has a prefer ence for the term Theotokos, then I have nothing to say against it – only do not make a Goddess of the virgin” (Loofs 1914, 32; cf. Sellers 1940, 172-3). The subsequent growth of the cult of Mary in many parts of the Christian world, in which the “Mother of God” is referred to as the “Queen of Heaven” and treated virtually as a goddess, can be seen as a realization of Nestorius’ fears. In particular, the later role of the Theotokos as “the special protectress of Constantinople” who “fought alongside them [the inhabitants] in the bat tle” during the Avar-Persian siege of the city in 626 (Cameron 1978, 78-9) would have made Nestorius turn in his grave. Third, Nestorius’ formula “the divinity makes use of the prosopon of the humanity and the humanity of that of the divinity” essentially serves the same function as the communicatio idiomatum (Anastos 1962, 136; cf. Sellers 1940, 167-71), so that “the Logos shows himself in the form of a servant and the man in the form of God” (Loofs 1914, 83; cf. Bethune-Baker 1908, 95; Driver and Hodgson 1925, 190, 241). As Anastos notes, the difference be tween Cyril and Nestorius on this point concerned “their disagreement con cerning the subject of the God-man’s career and experience. Cyril… [follow ing the Alexandrian Christology] preferred to begin with the divine Logos… Nestorius… associates all these activities [suffering, dying, rising from the dead] with ‘the prosopon of the union’ (the Jesus Christ of the Gospels)” (Anastos 1962, 138; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 141-8). Finally, the equation of Nestorius’ position on Theotokos with the hereti cal ideas of Paul of Samosata and Photinus (d. 376), both of whom denied the divinity of Christ, ignores the fact that Nestorius’ motivation in opposing Theotokos was to protect the Godhead from being diminished, for “if the Godhead of the Son had its origin in the womb of the Virgin Mary, it was not Godhead as the Father’s” and therefore was akin to Arianism (Bethune-Baker 1908, 19). In fact, Nestorius sought to avoid two erroneous ideas, that the Godhead had its origin in a human being (Mary) and that the manhood of 16

Christ was somehow less real than that of humanity in general (Bethune Baker 1908, 62). A related charge that was made against Nestorius must also be mentioned here. He was accused in the Acts of the Council of Ephesus of having said, “I could not give the name of God to one who was two or three months old,” referring to the Christ Child. This was accepted without further inquiry by Cyril as evidence of Nestorius’ rejection of the divinity of Christ. However, based on Nestorius’ own account in the Bazaar, it seems that his probable words were that “he could not bring himself to call God a babe… He refused to predicate infancy of God, rather than Godhead of an infant,” a crucial dif ference (Bethune-Baker 1908, 77; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 136-41). Nestorius’ “Prosopic Union” Although Nestorius’ rejection of Theotokos was the flashpoint for the controversy (due largely to the popularity of the term), Cyril equally critiqued him over his notion of a prosopic union. Herein lies a key problem over which scholars continue to disagree: the nature of Nestorius’ metaphysical system and its relation to the “orthodox” Chalcedonian view of two natures in one person (the latter represented by one prosopon and one hypostasis in the Chalcedonian Definition). This is difficult to unravel, given the different ways that Nestorius, Cyril and others in the fifth century used the relevant Greek terms. Following the differentiation between hypostasis and ousia in troduced by Basil of Caesarea 50 years earlier, Cyril located the “person” of Christ in the hypostasis. Thus for him, the union of divine and human was a “hypostatic union.” In contrast, Nestorius generally used hypostasis in the older sense, as a synonym for ousia. For him, both the divine and the human in Christ each had not only their own nature, but also their own hypostasis /ousia. Since the Nicene Creed had declared the Son to be homoousios (of one ousia) with the Father, Nestorius was unwilling to distinguish the hypostasis (equal to the ousia in his mind) of the Son from that of the Father, a necessary requirement for a hypostatic union to take place (since it only took place in the Son, not the Father or the Spirit). Because the ousiai of Godhead (which Christ shared with the Father and the Spirit) and manhood (which he shared with all hu manity) were completely different essences, they could not be combined with each other; “To Nestorius Godhead and manhood… were much too real to be able to lose themselves in one another; the unity must be found in something other than the ‘substances’ themselves” (Bethune-Baker 1908, 53). Rejecting Cyril’s “hypostatic union” (which in Cyril’s terminology also implied a union of natures), Nestorius opted instead for a “prosopic union,” 17

different in kind from both the unity of ousia (substance) shared by the mem bers of the Trinity and the involuntary natural unity of body and soul in hu mans which was used by Cyril as a metaphor for the divine-human union in Christ (Driver and Hodgson 1925, 412-3; Anastos 1962, 126-7). “Nestorius rejected the idea of a substantial union [because] such a union would result in a confusion of God and man” (Braaten 1963, 260) in which “each loses its own identity and ceases to function as a self-contained unit” (Chesnut 1978, 403). His starting place was quite different from Cyril’s, as he notes in the Bazaar: “It is not the Logos who has become twofold; it is the one Lord Jesus Christ who is twofold in his natures. In him are seen all the characteristics of the God-Logos… and also all those of the manhood” (Loofs 1914, 79-80; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 145). Nestorius’ theory of the prosopic union suggests that “in the person of Christ, a union of two persons took place so that they exchanged what is each other’s… the union takes place in the interchange of roles, the one making use of the prosopon of the other” (Braaten 1963, 261). Thus, “the Logos ‘takes’ the prosopon of the manhood… as his prosopon, and ‘gives’ His di vine prosopon to the manhood” (Sellers 1940, 147; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 69-70). Or again, “Christ is the union of the eternal Logos and the Son of Mary, the principle of the union being that the prosopon of each has been taken by the other, so that there is one prosopon of the two in the union.” In contrast, Nestorius terms Cyril’s hypostatic union as “unscriptural, unortho dox, destructive of true religion, and unintelligible” (Driver and Hodgson 1925, xxxii-xxxiii), realizing that, if “the divine Logos… took in his hyposta sis a human body, soul and intellect… so that his human nature had, there fore, no hypostasis,” the practical result was “a suppression of the manhood of Christ” (Loofs 1914, 72-3). Although his critics, including Cyril, have typically rejected Nestorius’ use of “conjunction” (Greek synapheia) as too weak to describe the relation ship between the divine and human in Christ, Bethune-Baker notes that the word can also have the stronger meaning “contact” or “cohesion” and that Nestorius uses “united” and “union” more frequently in the Bazaar than “conjoined” or “conjunction.” Throughout, Nestorius’ main concern was to avoid “words like ‘mixture’, ‘commingling’, ‘blending together’, ‘confusion’ and… all ideas which would merge the two substances and natures of God head and manhood in one” (Bethune-Baker 1908, 91), resulting in either “an Arian doctrine… which makes of the Logos a creature [or] an Apollinarian doctrine… which renders the humanity incomplete” (Braaten 1963, 260). Thus, for Nestorius, “God the Word does not become in his very nature

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something that he was not before… [and] the man remains genuinely man within the incarnation” (Chesnut 1978, 407). But what exactly did Nestorius mean by prosopon? Biblical and patristic writers before him had used it to convey the whole range of meaning noted above (face, mask, role, outward appearance, person) and three (Athanasius, Epiphanius, and Theodore of Mopsuestia) had used it to describe the Incarna tion in ways that anticipated Nestorius’ later use of the term (Driver and Hodgson 1925, 402-10). However, given this range of meaning and the fact that none of the terms Nestorius uses are exactly equivalent to our word “per son” and the modern psychological framework it represents (Driver and Hodgson 1925, 412), it is misleading to automatically interpret prosopon in his works as “person.” By doing so, we are in danger of evaluating him from our modern point of view, modified by nearly 1600 years of theological, philosophical and psychological development since his time (Braaten 1963, 261). Loofs suggests rather that “the main thing in his notion of prosopon… was the external undivided appearance” and specifically “the undivided ap pearance of the historic Jesus Christ” (Loofs 1914, 76, 79), an idea expanded by Hodgson, who proposes that “Nestorius analysed everything that exists into… essence [ousia], nature [physis]… and appearance [prosopon],” the latter being “a real element in the being of a thing.” As such, the prosopic un ion was not merely a “moral union” but a “real metaphysical unity,” although Hodgson suggests it was “not strong enough to bear the strain it was designed to meet,” to explain the oneness of Godhead and manhood in Christ (Driver and Hodgson 1925, 414-7, 419). Chesnut further observes that “to be the prosopon of God means to Nesto rius to be the Image of God, and to be the Image of God is first and foremost to will what God wills, to have the will and purpose of God” (Chesnut 1978, 399; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 59; Sellers 1940, 134). This aspect of prosopon reminds us of the Antiochian emphasis on the union being volun tary, requiring the active participation of Christ’s human nature. As Turner notes, “the problem is vital for Nestorius but purely marginal for Cyril” (Turner 1975, 311). However, the presence of a human will in Christ does not jeopardize the will of God, for as Nestorius explains, “he [Christ] acquired nothing else than to wish and to will whatever God willed in him. For this reason God became in him whatever he was in himself” (Chesnut 1978, 400; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 251). Again, “he in nothing deviated from the purpose of God… his will was bound to the will of God” (Chesnut 1978, 401; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 63-4; Sellers 1940, 138-40).

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Nestorius and “Two Persons” in Christ The contrast between Alexandrian and Antiochian thought outlined above was essentially a difference in emphasis, between the unity of the person of Christ (Alexandria) and the duality of his divine and human natures (Anti och). Both “schools” tended to accuse the other of overstating their respective emphasis. That Nestorius and other Antiochians were accused of preaching “two persons” in Christ is therefore not surprising; this misinterpretation typ ically occurs when “the context and characteristics of the Christological lan guage of the Antiochian tradition are ignored” (Uthemann 2007, 477). One of the main problems seems to have been Alexandria’s inability to accept the symmetrical Christology of Antioch, where divinity and humanity both played key roles, united in the person of Christ. By contrast, Cyril and other Alexandrians insisted on the subject of their Christology being the divine Logos, with the result that Christ’s humanity became less important. Any at tempt by Nestorius or other Antiochians to present a balanced picture was interpreted as “preaching two persons.” However, Nestorius expressly denies any belief in two Sons or two Christs, ascribing this view to the followers of Paul of Samosata (“They speak of a double son and a double Christ”). In an exposition of the introduc tion to John’s gospel, which refers to the divine Word of God indwelling Christ, he says, “How then can we understand this to be one Son, and Christ to be another Son, and one that is man only?” Elsewhere, he remarks, “God the Word and the man in whom He came to be are not numerically two” and “He is a single (person), but… He is different in the natures of manhood and Godhead” and “I call Christ perfect God and perfect man, not natures which are commingled, but which are united” (Bethune-Baker 1908, 82-5; cf. Driv er and Hodgson 1925, 45-6, 50). Thus, judged by his own words, Nestorius comes across not as a “here tic,” but as orthodox, in agreement with the theology articulated at Chalce don. Indeed, he was in complete accord with the Tome of Leo, commenting when he read it, “I gave thanks to God that the Church of Rome was rightly and blamelessly making confessions, even though they happened to be against me personally” (Bethune-Baker 1908, 191-2; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 340). A letter of Nestorius to the inhabitants of Constantinople, proba bly from 449, further states: “It is my doctrine which Leo and Flavian are up holding... Believe as our holy comrades in the faith, Leo and Flavian!” (Loofs 1914, 25). Nonetheless, Nestorius’ use of prosopon is sometimes confusing and un doubtedly supported his enemies’ accusations. Besides describing the union occurring in one prosopon, he also refers in places to two prosopa in Christ, 20

although the former use is much more common than the latter (Loofs 1914, 79). Anastos concludes that he used prosopon in two distinct senses: A) “the exterior aspect or appearance of a thing” (as Loofs observed) and B) “an ap proximate equivalent of our word ‘person’.” The first relates to the two na tures of Christ, indicating that “each had a substantive reality… which re mained undiminished after the union” while the second relates to Jesus Christ as “the common prosopon of the two natures.” Nestorius is then able to speak of the “two prosopa (sense A)… in the one prosopon (sense B) of Jesus Christ” (Anastos 1962, 129-30; cf. Chesnut 1978, 402; Uthemann 2007, 478). Put another way, “Nestorius’ theory was that the two distinctly existing persons combine to make a new person, who is called Jesus. Hence, Jesus is one person made up of two persons” (Braaten 1963, 258). Admittedly, this dual sense of the word, never clearly explained by Nestorius, is confusing and opens him up to criticism, but given the general fluidity in the terminolo gy of “personhood” mentioned above, it is not surprising and should not be grounds for accusing Nestorius of heresy, especially when he openly said “I separate the natures; but unite the worship” (Sellers 1940, 196). Based on this distinction in the use of prosopon, Anastos summarizes Nestorius’ actual Christology as follows: Jesus Christ was the divine Logos incarnate, the Son of God in the flesh, the Lord whom his disciples knew as a man but recognized to be God. The unity of his “personality” was further guaranteed by the fact that it was the Logos who both “gave” his prosopon (sense A) to the human nature and “took” that of the human for his own. Moreover, the human will of Christ was always obedient to the di vine, so that there never was any conflict or division between the two (Anastos 1962, 132). Anastos further comments that “Nestorius’ Christology is not character ized by preoccupation with either one of the two natures to the exclusion or detriment of the other, but rather by uncompromising insistence upon the un ion of both of them in Christ, in their full totality, and unimpaired” (Anastos 1962, 140). Conclusion In conclusion, a comment is necessary about the scholarly approach to Nestorius, especially in the twentieth century. Several scholars have conclud ed that Nestorius was either entirely or nearly orthodox in his beliefs, includ ing Bethune-Baker (1908), Loofs (1914), Sellers (1940), Vine (1948) and Anastos (1962). Indeed, after reading the Bazaar, it is clear that he was not guilty of the heresy he was accused of, namely preaching two persons in 21

Christ. Again, note the almost Chalcedonian ring of his confession of “one Christ, one Son, one Lord,” and “in one Christ two natures without confu sion. By one nature… of the divinity, he was born of God the Father; by the other… of the humanity, [he was born] of the holy virgin” (Anastos 1962, 128; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 295-6). Both Loofs and Anastos conclude that, being in full agreement with the Tome of Leo, Nestorius would have wholeheartedly approved of the Chalcedonian Confession (Loofs 1914, 99 100; Anastos 1962, 138; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 388-9). However, the a priori conviction of other scholars that Nestorius was a heretic no matter what he actually taught has made it impossible for them to revise their views; “The old notion that church councils cannot err seems to exercise a powerful influence on some scholars” (Braaten 1963, 254). For those who believe that all church councils have the same divine inspiration and authority as the first Council of Jerusalem described in the New Testa ment (Acts 15:28), the idea that the Church Fathers may have got it wrong is a threatening concept. Such scholars dismiss statements by Nestorius that are in fact orthodox as “an emergency invention forced upon him by his adversaries” or as evidence that he “used orthodox phraseology to confound his readers, or he used the orthodox terms in an ambiguous sense, meaning something else by them” (Braaten 1963, 255). They tend to judge Nestorius “in terms of “orthodox christological categories which were made precise at a later date,” one even suggesting that if the orthodox Catholic position on Nestorius is questioned, then “even the doctrine of the infallibility of the Pope is at stake” (Braaten 1963, 260). Such a subjective approach is intellectually dishonest and patent ly unfair to Nestorius. In contrast, Nestorius’ words in the Bazaar provide a fitting conclusion to this tragic chapter in church history: “The goal of my earnest wish, then, is that God may be blessed on earth as in heaven. But as for Nestorius, let him be anathema… And would to God that all men by anathematizing me might attain to a reconciliation with God; for to me there is nothing greater or more precious than this” (Bethune-Baker 1908, 190, 198; cf. Driver and Hodgson 1925, 372) Bibliography Anastos, Milton V. “Nestorius Was Orthodox.” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 16 (1962): 117-40. Bethune-Baker, J. F. Nestorius and His Teaching: A Fresh Examination of the Evidence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1908. 22

Bevan, George A. “The Last Days of Nestorius in the Syriac Sources.” Jour nal of the Canadian Society for Syriac Studies 7 (2007): 39-54. Braaten, Carl E. “Modern Interpretations of Nestorius.” Church History 32 (1963): 251-67. Brock, Sebastian P. “The ‘Nestorian’ Church: A Lamentable Misnomer.” Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library 78, No. 3 (1996): 23 35. Cameron, Averil. “The Theotokos in Sixth-Century Constantinople.” Journal of Theological Studies 29 (N.S.) (1978): 79-108. Chesnut, Roberta C. “The Two Prosopa in Nestorius' Bazaar of Heracleides.” Journal of Theological Studies 29 (N.S.) (1978): 392-409. DelCogliano, Mark, trans., “Nestorius, 2nd and 3rd Letters to Pope Celes tine,” http://www.tertullian.org/fathers/nestorius_two_letters_01.htm (translated 2005, cited April 5, 2009). Driver, G. R., and Leonard Hodgson, trans. Nestorius: The Bazaar of Hera cleides. Oxford: Clarendon, 1925. Frend, W. H. C. The Rise of the Monophysite Movement: Chapters in the History of the Church in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972. Gray, Patrick T. R. “The Legacy of Chalcedon: Christological Problems and Their Significance.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Jus tinian, edited by Michael Maas, 215-38. Cambridge: Cambridge Uni versity Press, 2005. Loofs, Friedrich, ed. Nestoriana: Die Fragmente Des Nestorius. Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1905. Loofs, Friedrich. Nestorius and His Place in the History of Christian Doc trine. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1914. Reprint, New York: Burt Franklin Reprints, 1975. McGuckin, J. A. “Nestorius and the Political Factions of Fifth-Century By zantium: Factors in His Personal Downfall.” Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library 78, No. 3 (1996): 7-21. Millar, Fergus. A Greek Roman Empire: Power and Belief under Theodosius II (408-450). Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006. Nau, François, trans. Nestorius: Le Livre d’Héraclide de Damas. Paris: Le touzey et Ané, 1910. Russell, Norman. Cyril of Alexandria. London & New York: Routledge, 2000. Sellers, R. V. Two Ancient Christologies. London: SPCK, 1940. 23

Stevenson, J., and W. H. C. Frend, eds. A New Eusebius: Documents Illus trating the History of the Church to AD 337. 2nd ed. London: SPCK, 1987. Stevenson, J., and W. H. C. Frend, eds. Creeds, Councils and Controversies: Documents Illustrating the History of the Church AD 337-461. 2nd ed. London: SPCK, 1989. Turcescu, Lucian. “Prosōpon and Hypostasis in Basil of Caesarea’s ‘Against Eunomius’ and the Epistles.” Vigiliae Christianae 51, No. 4 (1997): 374-95. Turner, H. E. W. “Nestorius Reconsidered.” In Studia Patristica XIII (Texte und Untersuchungen 116), 306-21. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1975. Uthemann, Karl Heinz. “History of Christology to the Seventh Century.” In The Cambridge History of Christianity, Vol. 2: Constantine to c. 600, edited by Augustine Casiday and Frederick W. Norris, 460-500. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Vine, Aubrey R. An Approach to Christology. London: Independent Press, 1948. Wessel, Susan. Cyril of Alexandria and the Nestorian Controversy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.

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2 SYRIAC GRAVESTONES IN THE TASHKENT HISTORY MUSEUM Mark DICKENS University of Cambridge, England Original publication information: “Syriac Gravestones in the Tashkent Histo ry Museum,” in Hidden Treasures and Intercultural Encounters: Studies on East Syriac Christianity in China and Central Asia (Orientalia-Patristica Oecumenica, Vol. 1), ed. Dietmar W. Winkler & Li Tang (Wien: LIT Verlag, 2009), pp. 13-49. Our knowledge of the history of Syriac Christianity in Central Asia is generally dependent on data from the following corpora: 1) the literature of the Church of the East and the Syrian Orthodox Church, in both Syriac and Arabic; 2) the works of Muslim geographers and historians; 3) the reports of travellers (both Christians and Muslims) who had contact with Christians in Central Asia; 4) Christian texts in Syriac, Sogdian and Old Uighur that have been discovered in Chinese Turkestan; 5) non-textual archaeological finds; and 6) various inscriptions left by Central Asian Christians.1 The vast majority of Christian inscriptions from Central Asia have been found on gravestones.2 This corpus of gravestone inscriptions gives us lim 1I

am indebted to Dr. Wassilios Klein (University of Bonn) and Dr. Alexei Savchenko (So ciety for the Exploration of Eurasia) for many helpful suggestions and answers to questions. My supervisor, Dr. Erica C.D. Hunter (University of Cambridge), read through the prelimi nary draft and provided valuable feedback. Thanks also to Dr. Savchenko for permission to use his images of the gravestones and to Prof. Niu Ruji (Xinjiang University) for a copy of his modified Serto font incorporating the letter ‫ݎ‬. Finally, I am grateful for questions an swered and information supplied by Prof. Michal Biran (Hebrew University of Jerusalem), Prof. Peter B. Golden (Rutgers University), Prof. Aleksandr Naymark (Hofstra University), Mr. John O’Farrell (Tashkent, Uzbekistan), Dr. Christine van Ruymbeke (University of Cambridge), Prof. Nicholas Sims-Williams (SOAS) and Prof. Peter Zieme (Berlin Brandenburg Academy of Sciences). 2 The few inscriptions (including those in black ink) not connected with gravestones include those found on 1) a rock wall located near Urgut (МЕЩЕРСКАЯ & ПАЙКОВА, 1981; SAVCHENKO, 1996; TARDIEU, 1999); 2) an ostracon found in Panjikent (PAYKOVA, 1979); 3) fragments of vases found at Taraz and Saryg (LALA COMNENO, 1997, 41; БАЙПАКОВ, 1994, 98); 4) a jug and a cross imprint found in Aq-Beshim (medieval Suyab) (KLEIN, 2004a, 27); and 5) the rims of large stone jars found in and near Krasnaya Rečka (medieval Navekath) (ГОРЯЧЕВА & ПЕРЕГУДОВА, 1994, 93; БАЙПАКОВ, 1994, 99-100). 25

ited, but nonetheless fascinating insights into the life of Central Asian Chris tians towards the end of the millennium that the Church of the East had a presence in the area. In so doing, they help us in the difficult task of deter mining how these Christians lived their lives on a daily basis and interacted with the society around them. The corpus of Christian gravestones written in the Syriac script (as op posed to those written in Chinese characters) can be further subdivided into four groups: those found in 1) the Chu Valley, in modern-day Kyrgyzstan,3 2) Almaliq, in Chinese Turkestan,4 3) Inner Mongolia5 and 4) other parts of China, principally in and around the city of Quanzhou (ancient Zaytun).6 This paper will concentrate on gravestones from the Chu Valley that are cur rently held in the National Historical Museum of Uzbekistan in Tashkent. Christian Gravestones from the Chu Valley Discovery and Deciphering of the Gravestones Beginning in 1885, Russian settlers in the province of Semirechye (called Zheti Su or Yettisu in Turkic),7 recently added to the Russian Empire and located adjacent to Chinese Turkestan, began to unearth stones marked with crosses and inscriptions from two sites in the Chu Valley: Karajigach, near Pishpek (now Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan) and Burana (medieval Bal asaghun), just south of Tokmak. Although they were identifiable as Christian

See footnotes below dealing with this group of gravestones, the focus of this paper. Alexei Savchenko informs me that there are also “two gravestones at the Ashkhabad Museum, pos sibly brought from Urgut” (personal communication, 27 August, 2006, citing МАССОН, 1978) [see Chapter 10 in this volume]. 4 See DŽUMAGULOV, 1968; NIU, DESREUMAUX & MARSONE, 2004, 145-46. Other articles dealing with this corpus are mentioned below. 5 See MARTIN, 1938; GROENBECH, 1940; MURAYAMA, 1963; ENOKI, 1964; MURAYAMA, 1964a; NIU, DESREUMAUX & MARSONE, 2004, 146-49; HALBERTSMA & WEI, 2005; HAL BERTSMA, 2006. 6 See FOSTER, 1954; ENOKI, 1964; MURAYAMA, 1964a, MURAYAMA, 1964b; HAMILTON & NIU, 1994; GENG, KLIMKEIT & LAUT, 1996; LIEU, 2002; NIU, 2004; NIU, DESREUMAUX & MARSONE, 2004, 149-51; NIU, 2005; FRANZMANN & LIEU, 2006; LIEU, 2006; NIU, 2006; BORBONE, 2006; FRANZMANN, 2007. Although this is obviously outside the geographical area of Central Asia, the fact that these inscriptions belong to Turkic Christians justifies their inclusion in this corpus. 7 Both names mean “Seven Rivers,” referring to various rivers that flow northward into Lake Balkhash. Although the Chu River is in this region, after flowing out of Lake Issyq Köl, it empties into the arid steppeland southwest of Lake Balkhash. 26

3

gravestones and the sites they came from were obviously cemeteries,8 it was not until photographs and handmade rubbings from the stones were sent to the eminent Semitist Prof. Daniel Chwolson in St. Petersburg that the lan guage on them was determined to be Syriac, written in the Estrangelo script.9 Over the next several years, as more gravestones were unearthed, Chwol son published an initial report in German10 and Russian11 and then two lengthy monographs in German covering a total of 568 stones (including those from the initial report).12 Most of the stones were dated according to the Seleucid Era (SE) used by Syriac Christians,13 the twelve-year animal cycle used by the Turkic peoples,14 or both. The stones with dates were dated from 1200/01 (or possibly 1185/86, based on uncertain readings of two stones) to 1344/45 CE.15

Approximately 3000 graves were found, although there were only about 600 gravestones with inscriptions (CHWOLSON, 1890, 2). Thus, the gravestones give us information about only 20% of the Christian community that was buried in the two cemeteries. 9 On the discovery and subsequent deciphering of the stones, see CHWOLSON, 1886, 1-6; CHWOLSON, 1890, 1-5. Good overviews of the history of these stones, including those that have ended up in other countries, can be found in THACKER, 1967 and DŽUMAGULOV, 1968. Chwolson actually described the script as a “transition from Estrangelo to the modern Nesto rian script” (KLEIN, 2002, [23], quoting CHWOLSON, 1890, 119). 10CHWOLSON, 1886, which dealt with 22 stones. 11 ХВОЛЬСОН, 1887a, which dealt with the same 22 stones; ХВОЛЬСОН, 1887b, which dealt with an additional six stones, & ХВОЛЬСОН, 1887c. 12 CHWOLSON, 1890, which dealt with 231 stones, and CHWOLSON, 1897, which dealt with 337 stones. In between the two, he also published ХВОЛЬСОН, 1895 (in Russian), which dealt with 12 stones found between his 1890 and 1897 publications. Of the 22 stones in CHWOL SON, 1886, only one, No. II, was not republished in CHWOLSON, 1890, since it was judged to be too indistinct (CHWOLSON, 1890, i). 13 The Seleucid era began on 1 October, 312 BCE. 14 Each year in the Turkic animal-cycle began between 14 January and 14 February during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (BAZIN, 1991, 414, 417). The twelve animals in the cycle are: 1) mouse/rat; 2) ox/cow; 3) tiger/leopard; 4) hare/rabbit; 5) dragon; 6) snake; 7) horse; 8) sheep; 9) monkey; 10) rooster/hen; 11) dog; and 12) pig. The seminal work on the animal-cycle calendar is BAZIN, 1991. 15 The first gravestone in Chwolson’s 1886 report was initially dated to 858; he later cor rected this to 1258 (CHWOLSON, 1886, No. I; CHWOLSON, 1890, No. 69), but the literature continues to refer to the incorrect date, giving the impression that the stones are much earlier than they are (e.g. MINGANA, 1925, 334; DAUVILLIER, 1948, 290). As noted above, a second stone, originally dated 911, was later discarded by Chwolson as too indistinct (CHWOLSON, 1886, No. II; CHWOLSON, 1890, i). Leaving these two erroneous readings aside, the date ranges in 1) CHWOLSON, 1886, 2) CHWOLSON, 1890 and 3) CHWOLSON, 1897 are, respec tively: 1) 1569 SE (1257/58 CE) to 1648 SE (1336/37 CE); 2) 1560SE (1248/49 CE) or pos sibly 1543 SE (1231/32) to 1656 SE (1344/45 CE); 3) 1512 SE (1200/01 CE) or possibly 1497 SE (1185/86 CE) to 1653 SE (1341/42 CE). However, Aleksandr Naymark notes that “finds of re-used tombstones of 789 and 909 C.E. in the foundations of [a] building [from] 27 8

Although all of the inscriptions except one were exclusively in the Syriac script,16 not all were in the Syriac language; approximately 30 of the inscrip tions in Chwolson’s corpus were wholly or partially in the Turkic language spoken in the region at that time.17 Furthermore, the paleography seemed to reflect the influence of the Uighur script still in use in parts of Central Asia at that time, since the Syriac characters were written vertically as well as hori zontally. As a result of analyzing the gravestone inscriptions, it became clear that the deceased had been “Nestorian” Christians, members of the Church of the East,18 most of whom were ethnic Turks who died in the thirteenth and four teenth centuries. Furthermore, many of the deceased were clergy; Chwolson calculated that 120 of the 300 males referred to on the gravestones held some position in the church.19 Subsequent Research on the Gravestone Corpus Chwolson’s work aroused a great deal of interest, amongst both his fel low Russian scholars and those in other parts of Europe. There were several

the end of the 10th-early 11th century in the city of Navekath pose the question whether all of more than eight hundred Syriac-Turkic tombstones of Semirech’e belong to the 13th-14th cen turies” (NAYMARK, 2004, 3). The exception is the gravestone of an Armenian bishop, partially in Syriac and partially in Armenian (МАРР, 1894). 17Not including the many references to the animal-year that are in Turkic. The linguistic status of Turkic will be dealt with below. On Turkic Christian gravestones in the Greek script, see PROKOSCH, 1992. 18 I am aware of the theological inadequacy of the term “Nestorian” to describe members of the Church of the East, but in the absence of a more convenient adjective, it is used sparingly in this article. Usage of the term does not imply any association with connotations of heresy. Of interest is the fact that the name Nestorius is found on at least two stones in the corpus (e.g. CHWOLSON, 1890, No. 49 & XXVIII). 19 The hierarchy in the Church of the East at the time consisted of nine ranks (further divid ed into three triads): 1) Catholicos-Patriarch, 2) metropolitan, 3) bishop, 4) archdeacon, 5) chorepiscopus (= periodeutes = visitor), 6) priest (presbyter), 7) deacon, 8) subdeacon, and 9) reader (VOSTÉ, 1931, 229). There also seems to have been a lower order of exorcists oper ating amongst Christians who had come from a shamanistic environment (CHWOLSON, 1890, 161; NÖLDEKE, 1890, 522; GILLMAN & KLIMKEIT, 1999, 238-39). Chwolson counted 9 archdeacons, 23 church visitors, 46 scholastics, 3 exegetes, 2 preachers, 8 readers/doctors, 15 others who held various church offices and a great number of priests (CHWOLSON, 1897, 54; cf. NAU, 1914, 334-35). Wassilios Klein counted 88 priests (bringing the actual total to 194) and suggested that the large number in this office, including many who are described as “youths,” could be a reflection of the Nestorian tendency to “have all the male children, even those in the cradle, ordained as priests,” as William of Rubruck noted (KLEIN, 2004b, 133 34; JACKSON, 1990, 163). 28 16

important reviews and critiques of his publications20 and further articles were published dealing with the way in which the gravestones fit into the overall picture of Syriac Christianity in Central Asia21 and the personal names that appeared on the stones.22 At the same time, beginning in 1902, more gravestones were discovered in another cemetery, located just over the border in Chinese Turkestan, near the medieval city of Almaliq. These were sent to Prof. Pavel Kokovtsov in St. Petersburg, who published them, along with other stones that had been un earthed in the Chu Valley, over the next several years.23 However, the active excavation of the cemeteries ceased soon afterwards and any subsequent finds have been largely by happenstance. Although many of the gravestones ended up in the Hermitage in St. Pe tersburg or scattered throughout the Russian Empire (and then the Soviet Un ion) in various museums and universities, a number of them found their way to museums or private collections in England, Finland and France.24 Unfor tunately, of the approximately 610 gravestones found in the Chu Valley, nearly 500 of them were destroyed in a fire in the museum where they were being kept in Almaty in 1939.25 Although there was little interest in the gravestone inscriptions for several decades after the initial flurry of publications in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, there has been a steady stream of articles since the late fifties, either dealing with one aspect of the inscriptions (e.g. the Turkic lan guage, personal names or dating systems used)26 or the corpus as a whole, including the publication of newly discovered stones and the republication of those already known from the work of Chwolson and Kokovtsov. Much of this work has been done by Chetin Jumagulov and Wassilios Klein.27

СЛУЦКИЙ, 1889; КОРШ, 1889; NÖLDEKE, 1890; HALÉVY, 1890; СЛУЦКИЙ, 1891. Of these, Nöldeke’s was the most influential and Chwolson incorporated a number of his sug gestions into his 1897 publication. 21 BARTHOLD, 1901. 22 CHABOT, 1906. 23 КОКОВЦОВ, 1906; КОКОВЦОВ, 1907; КОКОВЦОВ, 1909. 24 THACKER, 1967; HEALEY, 1983; HJELT, 1909; TALLGREN, 1940; AALTO, 1981, 5, 7; CHAFFANJON, 1899, 63-64, 99-100; NAU, 1913; NAU, 1914, 301-46; DESREUMAUX, 2000. 25 KLEIN, 2000, 156-57. 26 МАЛОВ, 1959, 77-86; MANSUROĞLU, 1959, 108-12; RÁSONYI, 1962, 232-39; HAGE, 1978; BAZIN, 1991, 413-29; RYBATZKI, 2004. The stones are also referred to in SAEKI, 1951, 408-15. 27 ДЖУМАГУЛОВ, 1963, 1982 & 1987; ДЖУМАГУЛОВ, 1971; KLEIN, 1994; KLEIN, 1998; KLEIN, 2000; KLEIN, 2001; KLEIN, 2002; KLEIN, 2004b; KLEIN & ROTT, 2006. 29 20

Placing the Gravestones in their Context The Geographical and Historical Context The Chu River, flowing out of Lake Issyq-Köl and into the arid steppe land to the north, was strategically located on the northern route of the Silk Road, which was the favoured route during the Pax Mongolica.28 This north ern route ran from Samarkand through Tashkent (known at different times as Čač, Šaš and Binkent) and Talas, north of the Talas-Alatau Mountains to the Chu Valley. From there, it continued on north of the mountains through Almaliq and Besh-baliq to either Turfan or Qamil (Hami), where other routes connected it with the central route of the Silk Road. At the same time, there were also minor routes that connected Lake Is syq-Köl with Samarkand via the Ferghana Valley29 and with Kashghar through various passes in the Talas-Alatau Mountains. Other routes also ran eastward from the Chu Valley, along both the southern and the northern shores of Lake Issyq-Köl, converging eventually in the Ili Valley around Almaliq, where they joined the northern branch of the Silk Road. Important cities in the Chu Valley included Navekath (Krasnaya Rečka), Suyab (Aq-Beshim) and Balasaghun (Burana) to the west of Lake Issyq-Köl, along with Qayaliq, about 450 km by road north of the lake, and Almaliq, about 650 km by road northeast of the lake. On the other side of the Tien Shan Mountains, located on (or just to the north of) the middle route of the Silk Road, were the cities of Kashghar, Aqsu, Bai, Kucha, Bügür (Lun-t’ai), Qarashahr, Besh-baliq, Turfan, Qocho, Qamil, and Bars-köl (Barkul).30 The time period covered by the gravestones corresponds roughly to the period of Mongol dominance in Central Asia. The earliest gravestone can be confidently dated to 1200/01, shortly before Chingiz Khan became khan of the Mongols (1206). In the next two decades, before his death, the Mongols conquered the Kirghiz, the Uighurs, the Qarakhitai and the Khwarazmshahs. The Qarakhitai had held Semirechye-Zheti Su and the Tarim Basin since c. 1130-1140, although they were ruled by the Naiman prince Küchlüg between 1211 and 1218, when the Mongols defeated them, killing Küchlüg in the process.

28 For an excellent overview of the Silk Road, see FRANCK & BROWNSTONE, 1986, especial ly the map on p. 6 and the description of the various routes on pp. 9-26. As Baipakov notes, the northern route was “used from the seventh to the fourteenth century by the majority of ambassadorial and mercantile caravans” (BAIPAKOV, 2000, 222). 29 A detailed description of the route, requiring comparison with a modern map of Central Asia, can be found in BURYAKOV, 1999, 84, 98, 99. 30 For an excellent map, cf. http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/features/silkroad/pdf/silkroadmap.pdf. 30

When Chingiz Khan died in 1227, his empire was divided amongst his heirs and his son Chaghatay received the Chaghatayid ulus (a division of the Mongol Empire, usually called a khanate), encompassing Mawara’un-nahr (Transoxiana), the Tarim Basin, and Semirechye-Zheti Su. Whereas the Qa rakhitai (and Küchlüg) had made Balasaghun their capital, the Chaghatayid seat of power was Almaliq.31 After the death of Chaghatay in 1244, the khanate became less and less stable, splitting into two halves in the early fourteenth century: Transoxiana in the west and Moghulistan in the east. Three of the four Mongol khanates eventually became Muslim.32 Alt hough in each case the actual process was gradual, the official conversion of the Il-Khanids in Iran is associated with the reign of Ghazan Khan (1295 1304) and that of the Golden Horde on the northern steppe with Özbeg Khan (1313-1341). The first Chaghatayid khan to convert to Islam whose subse quent policies reflected that conversion was Tarmashirin Khan (1331-1334), after whom Islamization increased in the khanate.33 Less than twenty years after the latest stone in the corpus, dated to 1344/45, Timur (Tamerlane) overthrew the last independent Chaghatayid khan Tughluq Timur (1363) and began his program of military conquest that proved so disastrous for the Church of the East. The Ethnic, Linguistic and Religious Context Since the Semirechye-Zheti Su area was the centre of the Qarakhitai state and an important part of the Chaghatayid ulus, the population was probably a mixture of various Turkic tribes, including Uighurs and Qarakhanid Turks.34 William of Rubruck specifically mentions Christian Uighurs living in this area (see below; the other ethnic groups he identified as Christian – the Naiman, Kerait and Merkit – all lived further to the north) and one grave stone in the corpus is that of ‫( ܒܢܘܣ ܩܫܐ ܐܘܓܘܪ‬Banus, the Uighur priest).35 It seems reasonable to assume therefore that many of those buried in the Chu Valley cemeteries were ethnic Uighurs, although we cannot be sure. Linguistically, Semirechye-Zheti Su in the thirteenth and fourteenth cen turies was in a state of transition from Old Turkic to Middle Turkic. Old Ui As RYAN, 1998, 362 notes, rather than a real capital, it was “a major rallying point for the bands of nomadic warriors who ruled Chaghatai, and served as a kind of administrative cen ter.” 32 The exception was, of course, the Mongol Yüan Dynasty of China, ruled over initially by Qubilai Khan. 33 Several other Chaghatayid khans had converted previously, but there had been little if any effect on the political structure of the khanate prior to Tarmashirin, on whom see BIRAN, 2002. 34 Michal Biran, personal communication, 29 May, 2007. 35 CHWOLSON, 1897, No. 97. 31 31

ghur, which had dominated the area since the eighth century and had then been adopted as the language of officialdom in the Mongol Empire, gradually decreased in importance.36 So too did Qarakhanid (also called Xakani), the first Islamic Turkic literary language, which had developed in the eleventh century under the Qarakhanid dynasty. By the time of Timur, shortly after the last inscription in the gravestone corpus, these two languages would begin to be replaced by the Middle Turkic language, Chaghatay.37 In the opinion of Peter B. Golden, the language of the inscriptions is best termed Middle Southeastern Turkic.38 Its major char acteristics have been documented by Mansuroğlu.39 The linguistic status of Syriac will be dealt with below. Semirechye-Zheti Su at the time was a religious intertidal zone. Muslims dominated to the south in Mawara’un-nahr, Buddhists to the east in China, and followers of traditional Central Asian animism-shamanism to the north. All of these, along with Christians, mixed together in Semirechye-Zheti Su. There had been Christians in the area since at least the eighth century, as evi denced by two churches excavated in Aq-Beshim (medieval Suyab), not far from the Burana cemetery.40 Based on the evidence of archaeological finds from the area, Aleksandr Naymark concludes that, while Christianity went into decline in Mawara’un-nahr during the ninth and tenth centuries (as a result of the Muslim conquest of Central Asia), it continued to flourish in Semirechye-Zheti Su under the Qarakhanids and in fact, spread south from there back into Mawara’un-nahr later on.41 When the shamanist and Buddhist Qarakhitai captured Semirechye-Zheti Su and the Tarim Basin from the Muslim Qarakhanids (c. 1130-1140), both Buddhism and Nestorian Christianity experienced a revival in the area. The two religions were further strengthened after the Qarakhitai khan Yelü Zhilu gu was overthrown in 1211 by Küchlüg, who had been born into a Nestorian family and later converted to Buddhism. When Küchlüg was in turn defeated by the armies of Chingiz Khan in 1218, Christians in the area continued to be

Nevertheless, commenting on the Uighur language and alphabet, William of Rubruck not ed that “almost every Nestorian is familiar with their script” (JACKSON, 1990, 157). 37 See JOHANSON, 1998, 85-86. 38 Personal communication, 23 May, 2006. 39 MANSUROĞLU, 1959, 108-12. 40 See KLEIN, 2001, 86-89; KLEIN, 2004a. It is debatable whether there was 1) a continual Christian presence from the eighth century or 2) a hiatus between an earlier Christian pres ence, probably dominated by Sogdian-speakers, and a later one, primarily made up of Tur kic-speakers (KLEIN, 2004b, 130-31). 41 NAYMARK, 2004, 3-5. 32 36

treated well, due to the generally-favourable view that the Mongols held of Christianity. The Status of Syriac Christianity in the Chu Valley The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy of the Church of the East in Central Asia Thanks to the two cemeteries and their contents, we have a significant amount of information about the Christian community near Lake Issyq-Köl. The cemetery in Burana (medieval Balasaghun), just south of Tokmak, is the smaller of the two, since Balasaghun at the time had a largely Muslim popu lation, but the cemetery in Karajigach, near Bishkek, was much larger, re flecting the fact that it was located next to a Christian town called Tarsak ent.42 Since the only bishop mentioned is an Armenian one43 and the highest Nestorian church office mentioned on the inscriptions is an archdeacon, we must assume that the area was overseen by the latter, rather than a bishop.44 The Christians in the area undoubtedly used Syriac as their primary litur gical language, as has been the case throughout the history of the Church of the East, but the degree to which those in the community used it outside of the liturgy is unclear. The poor quality of Syriac on the gravestones shows that those who prepared the inscriptions were not well-versed in the lan guage, but it is difficult to know from this how literate either the clergy or laity were in Syriac.45 At the same time, as Wassilios Klein notes, if there had not been a signif icant degree of literacy in Syriac amongst the community, there would have been no need to produce the gravestones with inscriptions in the first place.46 Furthermore, “If Syriac dominates the tombstone inscriptions, then it follows that it must have played a substantial role as a liturgical language… As can be seen from the details relating to occupations contained on the tombstone inscriptions, there were schools both for elementary education and for eccle siastical training... The level of competence in Syriac reflected in these in scriptions is reminiscent of a knowledge of foreign languages that has been

Meaning, literally, “City of the Christians,” on which see KLEIN, 2000, 132-36; KLEIN, 2001, 86. 43 МАРР, 1894. 44 The archdeacon’s residence was probably in Tarsakent (KLEIN, 2004b, 134). See also KLEIN, 2000, 240-41 on archdeacons in general. 45 Various grammatical inconsistencies are dealt with below. On the poor quality of the or thography, see KLEIN, 2002, [24]-[28]. 46 KLEIN, 2004b, 136. 33 42

acquired at school without any exposure to the country where the language is spoken.”47 Given the number of Turkic inscriptions in Syriac script on the grave stones, perhaps Old Uighur was also used in an ecclesiastical context. This was certainly the case in Eastern Turkistan several centuries earlier, based on the Christian texts found in Turfan,48 and there are a higher percentage of Turkic inscriptions on the gravestones found in Almaliq. William of Rubruck says that the area around Qayaliq “used to be known as Organum and to have its own language and script… Its script and language were habitually used by the Nestorians of these parts for their services and for writing their books,” perhaps a reference to the earlier use of either Sogdian or Old Uighur.49 Since neither bishops nor metropolitans are encountered in the gravestone inscriptions, we do not know which ecclesiastical diocese or even province these Christians belonged to. We have a rough idea of how the provinces of the Church of the East in Central Asia might have been organized at the time, thanks to various medieval Syriac and Christian Arabic sources which list the metropolitan see cities of the church (see below). However, we do not know how the dioceses were organized, since there are no references to bishops in Central Asia at this time, unless one considers that ‫“ يوحنا اسقف كمل‬John, bishop of Kamul,” who (according to ʿAmr ibn Mattai) was present at the consecration of Patriarch Denḥa I in 1265,50 refers to Qamil (Hami) in Chi nese Turkestan.51 Interestingly, none of the Europeans who travelled through

47 KLEIN, 2001, 91. The situation was probably analogous to that of modern-day Syriac Christians in the Middle East, most of whom only use Syriac in the liturgy, whereas Arabic is their lingua franca for the rest of life, including social interaction with other Christians. On the educational situation that is revealed from the gravestones, see KLEIN, 2004b, 136. 48 See BANG, 1926 and ZIEME, 1974. 49 JACKSON, 1990, 148. Early scholars erroneously associated “Organum” with Orghina Khatun, regent of the Chaghatayid ulus (1251-1260) (PELLIOT, 1973, 114). In contrast, François Nau argued that the word was a latinization of ärkägün, the Mongol term for “Christian” (NAU, 1913, 8-9). The current scholarly consensus is that the term is “a corrup tion of Ürgench, the capital of Khwārazm, the name of the chief city being applied to the country as a whole” (JACKSON, 1990, 148, following PELLIOT, 1973, 113-18). My thanks to Michal Biran for clarifying my thinking on this matter (personal communication, 29 May, 2007). 50 GISMONDI, 1896-1897, ١٢١/70. On the basis of an average of three bishops per metropol itan in 1265, Bonin suggested that the metropolitan of Kashghar oversaw three bishoprics, namely Tokmak, Jan-baliq and Yarkand (BONIN, 1900, 585, 587), but this is pure specula tion, not backed up by any solid evidence. 51 MINGANA, 1925, 328-29. 34

the area mention meeting a bishop or metropolitan,52 prompting some to ponder whether or not some of these positions were purely titular.53 Lists of metropolitanates in the Church of the East can be found in the works of Elias Jauhari of Damascus (c. 893), Ibn aṭ-Ṭayyib (d. 1043), ʿAbdišo bar Berikha (1316) and ʿAmr ibn Mattai (c. 1350).54 All of the writ ers mention Samarkand. In addition, ʿAbdišo lists a metropolitan of the Turks, ʿAmr one of Turkestan, probably both referring to the same location. Various suggestions have been given for the location of this metropolitanate – initially created during the patriarchate of Timothy I (780-823) – including Kashghar and Otrar on the Syr Darya, but due to the uncertainty over its loca tion, it will not be considered below.55 ʿAmr also lists Khan-baliq and Al Faliq (to be dealt with below) and Kashghar and Navekath. Unfortunately, we do not have precise start or end dates for any of these metropolitanates.56 Samarkand was the oldest and most stable of the Central Asian metro politanates, but since it was also about 900 km by road southwest of Lake Issyq-Köl, its ecclesiastical authority likely extended only as far as the Fer ghana Valley.57 Nevertheless, although we have no evidence of this from the gravestone corpus, there were presumably contacts between Christians in Samarkand and the Chu Valley as a result of travel along the Silk Road. The city was still an important centre for the Church of the East at this time. Marco Polo described a “a big church [built] in the city to the honour of St

PELLIOT, 1973, 5. For a discussion of the church hierarchy in Central Asia, see KLEIN, 2000, 240-49. At the same time, we know that the Turkic monk Marqos was consecrated as Metropolitan of Katay (Cathay) and Ong (i.e. Öng, the singular of Öngüt) and that only warfare in Central Asia prohibited him from returning to China to take up his position (MONTGOMERY, 1927, 41). 54 A good summary of the relevant lists of metropolitanates can be found in SACHAU, 1919, 21-22. 55 On the possible location of this metropolitanate, see NAU, 1914, 247-48; DAUVILLIER, 1948, 285-86; PELLIOT, 1973, 6-7; HUNTER, 1989/1991, 158-59. In contrast to these sugges tions, Alexei Savchenko suggests that it was located at Čač (Tashkent), where coins with Christian crosses were minted (personal communication, 14 September, 2007). 56 For a discussion of these metropolitanates, see KLEIN, 2000, 250-55. On the relationship between the “metropolitans of the exterior” and the patriarch, see DAUVILLIER, 1948, 263 66; HAGE, 1997, 22-25. For a map of the Church of the East in Central Asia with the various bishoprics and metropolitanates marked, see HAGE, 1970, 27. 57 Dating the establishment of the metropolitanate of Samarkand is very difficult, since it is attributed to all of the following Patriarchs by different authorities: Ahai (410-414), Shila (503-523), Isho‘yahb – either Isho‘yahb I (582-596), Isho‘yahb II (628-646), or Isho‘yahb III (650-658) – and Saliba-Zakha (714-728). It is most likely that it took place in the seventh or eighth century. On the history of the ecclesiastical province of Samarkand, see COLLESS, 1986; DAUVILLIER, 1948, 283-86; BARTHOLD, 1968, 485-87. 35 52 53

John the Baptist,”58 as well as a certain Mar Sergius, a “Nestorian” Christian (who we know was from Samarkand) that was appointed governor of the city of Zhenjiang (Chen-chiang) in eastern China by Kublai Khan.59 The Syriac History of Mar Yahballaha also mentions that Mar Jacob, the Metropolitan of Samarkand, was amongst those who consecrated the Turkic monk Marqos as Patriarch Yahballaha III in 1281.60 Kashghar, located over the Tien Shan Mountains, about 500 km by road south of Lake Issyq-Köl, received a metropolitan much later than Samarkand. According to ʿAmr ibn Mattai, writing c. 1350, this took place under Patri arch Eliya III (1176-1190), who consecrated two consecutive metropolitans for the city, John (‫ )يوانيس‬and Sabhrišo (‫)سربيشوع‬.61 However, a century later (c. 1280), when the monks Rabban Ṣauma and Marqos passed through the city, they found it in a state of war and desolation.62 ʿAmr’s list of metropoli tanates also includes a joint metropolitanate of Kashghar and Navekath (‫كاشغر‬

‫)ونواكث‬.63 This seems to indicate that the historically-significant metropoli LATHAM, 1958, 81-82. According to Polo, the construction of the church was linked to the conversion of Chaghatay himself. A later khan, Eljigidei (1327-1330) was also reported to have built a church in Samarkand dedicated to John the Baptist, a coincidence that seems somewhat suspicious, as RYAN, 1998, 366 points out. In fact, Marco Polo could never have seen the church himself, since the head of a Sufi khanaqah in Samarkand reported in 1259 that it had been destroyed (BARTHOLD, 1968, 486). Since most of the Christians buried in the Chu Valley lived after this time, the church would have been no more than a painful remind er of the fragility of their faith in the predominantly Muslim culture around them. Three and a half centuries earlier, c. 900, the Muslim writer Ibn al-Faqih described the church at Sa markand as a well-known site, one of “le plus dignes de demeurer sur la face du temps et le plus éloignés d’être effaces” (MASSÉ, 1973, 296-97). 59 See PELLIOT, 1963, 774-76; MOULE, 1930, 145-57, 160. It is thought that, since Marco Polo could not have seen the church himself, he must have heard about it from Mar Sergius. This seems to be confirmed by a Chinese document called The History of Chên-chiang of the Chih-shun period, which speaks of Mar Sergius coming from Samarkand, “a land where the yeh-li-k’o-wên [Chinese for ärkägün, i.e. Christians] practice their religion” and refers to a “chapel” with one pillar “hanging in the air more than a foot [from the floor]” (MOULE, 1930, 146), a fact which Polo relates in his description of the church. 60MONTGOMERY, 1927,46. 61 GISMONDI, 1896-1897, ١١١/64. However, François Nau suggested that the elevation of Kashghar to metropolitan status is to be equated with Patriarch Timothy’s appointment of a metropolitan for the Turks in the late eighth century (NAU, 1914, 247-48). See also DAU VILLIER, 1948, 286-88. 62 MONTGOMERY, 1927, 35. 63 GISMONDI, 1896-1897, ١٢٦/73. See also the version of this list by Ṣaliba ibn Yuḥannā 58

(GISMONDI, 1896-1897,

١٣٢/74). 36

tanate of Kashghar had been revived, but in conjunction with Navekath in the Chu Valley, which was much closer to the Chaghatayid capital of Almaliq.64 If so, then the Christians buried in the Chu Valley would presumably have belonged to this ecclesiastical province, located between the provinces of Samarkand to the southwest and Almaliq to the northeast. However, we have no other evidence that this city in the Chu Valley, so close to the cemeteries, had a metropolitan and no gravestone for even a Nestorian bishop, let alone a metropolitan.65 The final metropolitanate to consider is Almaliq itself, the capital of the Chaghatayid ulus, located about 650 km by road northeast of Lake Issyq Köl.66 This is somewhat less sure, based on an interpretation of Khan-baliq and Al-Faliq (‫ )خان ابلق والفالق‬in ʿAmr’s list of metropolitans.67 Rather than understanding ‫ خان ابلق‬Khan-baliq in its usual sense (referring to Peking), Eduard Sachau suggested that it should be read as ‫ جان ابلق‬Jan-baliq, the equivalent of Besh-baliq (near modern-day Urumchi), and that ‫ الفالق‬Al-Faliq should be read as ‫ البالق‬Ili-baliq, another name for Almaliq.68 The discovery of the Almaliq gravestones, along with the possibility that one of its rulers may have had a Christian name,69 confirms that it was an important Christian centre, but we have no solid evidence of the city’s status as a metropolitanate. Based on the gravestone inscriptions, however, we do know that several Christians from Almaliq, along with at least one from Kashghar,70 were bur ied in the Chu Valley cemeteries, implying that there was a certain degree of 64 As Erica C.D. Hunter has noted, there may be a parallel situation in the equation of Ni shapur with the metropolitanate of Merv in the list of ʿAbdišo bar Berikha (1316): “Nišapur was never a metropolitanate, but its reputation may have bolstered the declining fortunes of Merv. Conversely, Merv may have been retained in the title on account of its renown, if the seat moved to Nišapur” (HUNTER, 1996, 137). 65 On the status of Navekath, see DAUVILLIER, 1948, 288-91; KLEIN, 2000, 136-39. Several Christian artifacts, including five pectoral crosses and a Sogdian inscription on a ceramic vessel, have been discovered in modern Krasnaya Rečka, the site of medieval Navekath (KLEIN, 2000, 112-13). For its location, see BREGEL, 2003, 5. See also the discussion in MI NORSKY, 1970, 289-90. 66 On which, see DAUVILLIER, 1948, 305-08. Nau rather confusingly asserts that the capital of the (ecclesiastical or Chaghatayid?) province was Almaliq, but that the metropolitanate responsible for those buried in the cemeteries was “sans doubte” Kashghar (NAU, 1913, 18 and NAU, 1914, 335). 67 GISMONDI, 1896-1897, ١٢٦/73. 68 69 70

SACHAU, 1919, 22. See also DAUVILLIER, 1948, 305-06. Prince ’Ozar in 1211 (DAUVILLIER, 1948, 305). CHWOLSON, 1890, No. 98,3,3, 11,1; CHWOLSON, 1897, No. 261,211. 37

interaction between Christians in these cities. In the end, we cannot know for sure which metropolitanate those buried in the Chu Valley cemeteries came under. Medieval Travel Accounts In addition to the above information derived from Syriac and Christian Arabic literature, we are also fortunate to have more travel accounts related to Central Asia from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries than from any other time prior to the modern era. Although some of them give us significant information about the general status of Christianity in Central Asia and China at that time, there is less data on the state of the Nestorian Christians in Semi rechye-Zheti Su than we would like. The earliest account is that of Ch’ang Ch’un, a Taoist monk and alche mist who travelled through Central Asia in 1219 en route to see Chingiz Khan at his orda in Afghanistan. He mentions that, when passing the city of Lun-t’ai (also known as Bügür, located on the northern rim of the Tarim Ba sin), “the head of the Tarsa [as Christians were known in Central Asia71] came to meet us.”72 In contrast, the Franciscan monk John of Plano Carpini, travelling through the area in 1246, makes no mention of Christians at all in “the land of the Black Kitayans.”73 Similarly, his fellow-traveller Benedict the Pole says of the “land which is called Kara Kitai” that “the inhabitants are pagans.”74 More promising is the account of William of Rubruck, who passed through Central Asia en route to see Khan Möngke in Khan-baliq (Peking) in 1253. His comments on the Christians of Qayaliq have been noted above. Of the Uighurs, he said, “All their cities contain Nestorians and Saracens inter mingled… I encountered a man who had on his hand a little cross in black ink [i.e. a tattoo], which led me to believe he was a Christian, since he an swered like a Christian all the questions I put to him.”75 At one point, Rubruck speaks of entering a church in a settlement that was entirely Nesto rian near the town of Qayaliq and breaking into a chant “as we had not seen a church for a long time.”76 Marco Polo, who journeyed through Central Asia

In Pahlavi, a Christian was called tarsāg, in New Persian ‫ ترسا‬tarsā, from the verb ‫ترسيدن‬, tarsidān, “to fear.” On the possible origin of this term, see PINES, 1968. 72 WALEY, 1931, 82. See also MOULE, 1930, 216-18. 73 DAWSON, 1955, 59. 74DAWSON, 1955, 81. Andrew of Longjumeau’s account of his passage through Central Asia in 1249-1250 is even briefer, mentioning only some German slaves in Talas (DE RACHEWILTZ, 1971, 123). 75 JACKSON, 1990, 150. 76 JACKSON, 1990, 165. 38 71

in 1275, mentions Christians in Samarkand, Kashghar, Yarkand, Qara Khoja (near Turfan), and Ghinghintalas, which is generally identified with Barkul (= Bars-köl, to the north of Qamil).77 However, since he did not take the northern route of the Silk Road (as William of Rubruck had), he does not mention any in Semirechye-Zheti Su. Travelling in the opposite direction, the Turkic monks Rabban Ṣauma and Marqos78 passed through Central Asia en route to Jerusalem shortly after Marco Polo, c. 1280. They also took the southern route of the Silk Road, but no mention is made of Christians in Kashghar.79 Fifty years later, the Fran ciscan Odoric of Pordenone, returning to Europe from Khan-baliq c. 1328, did not even mention the Christians of Tangut that Rabban Ṣauma and Marqos had praised for their ardent belief, let alone Christians anywhere else on his route.80 By this time, the Catholics had established a presence in the area.81 Almaliq was probably made a bishopric in the 1320s. Thomas of Mancasola was appointed bishop of Samarkand in 1329. A third bishopric was set up in Urgench, in Khwarazm, sometime before 1340. Responsible in part for this openness to Christianity was the Chaghatayid ruler Eljigidei (1327-1330). However, the conversion to Islam (probably around the same time) and sub sequent accession to the throne of his brother Tarmashirin in 1331 ultimately resulted in a decline in the fortunes of Christians in the khanate, whether “Nestorian” or Catholic.82 The Muslim traveller Ibn Baṭṭuta, who passed through Central Asia in 1332-1333, spent nearly two months at the court of Tarmashirin near Nakhshab (modern-day Qarshi, Uzbekistan), but he does not mention any Christians in the area.83 Not long afterwards, the plague swept through the LATHAM, 1958, 80-82, 88-89. On the identification of Ghinghintalas with Barkul/Bars köl, see MOULE, 1930, 131. 78 Although Bar Hebraeus calls them Uighurs (ABBELOOS & LAMY, 1877, col. 451-54; BUDGE, 1932, 492), they were actually Öngüt Turks (BORBONE, 2005, 11-12). 79 MONTGOMERY, 1927, 35. Another important Catholic traveller to the East, John of Monte Corvino, travelled to China via India (1291-1294) and so did not pass through Central Asia. 80 DE RACHEWILTZ, 1971, 184-85. 81 An excellent overview can be found in RYAN, 1998. See HAGE, 1970, 63 for a map of Catholic missions in Central Asia. 82 Although, as RYAN, 1998, 367-68 notes, there was also openness towards, or at least tol erance of, Christianity under his successors Buzan (1334-1335) and Changshi (1335-1337). 83 GIBB, 1929, 172-74. Of course, Ibn Baṭṭuta did not travel through Semirechye-Zheti Su. Also, since he was meeting the newly converted khan of the Chaghatay ulus and his primary motive was to describe the spread of Islam throughout the known world, it is not surprising that he does not mention Christians in the area. He does, however, mention Christian Qip chaqs further west in the Muslim Qipchaq Khanate (ibid, 142). 39 77

area, a fact borne out by the large number of gravestones from the years 1338-1339.84 In the same year, 1339, seven residents of the Catholic friary at Almaliq were martyred, including the bishop, Richard of Burgundy. A year later, John of Marignolli stopped in Almaliq while en route to Khan-baliq. After learning of the martyrdoms the previous year, he “built a church, bought a piece of ground, dug wells, sung masses and baptized several; preaching freely and openly.”85 Despite the optimism of this account, how ever, the indigenous Christian community, after a presence of at least six cen turies in the area, was on the verge of dying out.86 Christian Gravestones in Tashkent The National Historical Museum of Uzbekistan in Tashkent is the current name of the former Lenin Museum, originally opened in 1970 on the anni versary of the revolutionary’s birth. After Uzbekistan gained its independ ence in 1991, the museum’s contents were supplemented by archaeological material from the former Aybek Museum, founded in 1876, and the whole museum was subsequently closed for several years in order to update the tired old Soviet-style exhibits to a presentation more in keeping with modern museology. The renovated museum opened on 31 March, 2003. At the time, I was living and working in Uzbekistan and so I took advantage of the oppor tunity to see the new exhibits. Prominently displayed on the second floor in their own display case are four Christian gravestones in Syriac script.87 In April 2003, I obtained per mission to photograph the four gravestones on display, which I will now pro

84 CHWOLSON, 1890, 85-91; CHWOLSON, 1897, 33-38. This was the same plague which rav aged Europe shortly after, from 1347 to 1351. 85 YULE & CORDIER, 1914, 212. See also MOULE, 1930, 255-56; STANDAERT, 2001, 75-76. 86 Yet the memory of these Christians was not entirely lost, as we learn from the Portuguese Jesuit Benedict Goës. Passing through the Tarim Basin 250 years later, in 1603, he was told by the prince of Cialis, which Cordier equates with Qarashahr, located midway between Kucha and Turfan on the middle route of the Silk Road, that “Christians were really Miser mans [musulmans = Muslims?], or True Believers, adding that his own ancestors had been professors of their faith” (YULE & CORDIER, 1916, 233-34). 87 МИНАСЯНЦ, 1992, 17-18 details how originally 17 gravestones were acquired by the Tur kestan National Museum in 1918, of which only 13 are still extant. In addition to the four on display, another seven gravestones are kept in the attic of the museum and one in the History Faculty of the National University of Uzbekistan named after Mirza Ulugbeg, formerly known as TashGU (I do not know where the thirteenth stone is). See also МУСАКАЕВА, 1994, 46. My thanks to Alexei Savchenko for clarifying various questions about these stones and supplying me with the article by Mr. Minasiants (see next footnote also), as well as im ages he took of the stones to compare with my own photographs. 40

ceed to describe.88 As with most of the gravestones from the Chu Valley, the workmanship on these stones is somewhat crude and the inscriptions, in Syri ac Estrangelo script, are difficult to decipher in places. Each of the stones ap pears to be the work of a separate engraver. Although I did not verify their geological makeup, Thacker has noted that most of the stones are of diorite, with some of bluish granite and a few of grey sandstone.89 Gravestone No. 1 The first gravestone [Fig. 2-1] is dated to 1573 SE (1261/62 CE). It is No. 5 in CHWOLSON, 1897.90 The inscription is engraved on three sides of what is often referred to as a “Nestorian cross,” or a “pearl cross.”91 In addition, the cross is placed on a raised stand. Syriac Text and Transliteration:92

‫ܗܝܩܒܪܗ‬ ‫ܐܬܩܥܓ‬ ‫ܦܗܛܣܝܣ؟‬ ‫ܗܕܐ‬ ‫ܫܢܬ‬ ‫ ܣܐ‬šant 1000 + 400 + 100 + 70+ 393 hādāy qabrāh PHṬSYS-?94 sā ‫ ݎܘܫܛܐܢܨ‬qušṭānṣ I am grateful to Dr. Margarita Filanovich (ret’d.), Dr. Edvard Rtveladze (Scientific Re search Institute of the Academy of Arts of Uzbekistan) and Dr. Timur Shirinov (Samarkand Institute of Archaeology) for references & letters of introduction to the museum; to the mu seum director, Dr. Jannat Ismailova, for permission to take photos and to the curator, Mr. Vazgen Minasiants, for taking the stones out of their display case so I could photograph them. 89 THACKER, 1967, 95. 90 Cat. 908/8 in the Tashkent museum, 28.5 cm high x 20.5 cm wide. My thanks to Alexei Savchenko for supplying me with the catalogue numbers and dimensions of the four stones. A photograph with translation can also be found in BAUMER, 2006, 210. 91 On these and other crosses used in Central Asia, see DAUVILLIER, 1956; PARRY, 1996, 145-47; KLEIN & RECK, 2004; ROTT, 2006. On the general iconography of the gravestones, see EGAMI, 1966. On the use of the cross in Central Asia across the religious spectrum, see KLIMKEIT, 1979. 92 Since we do not know exactly how Syriac was pronounced by the community that pro duced these gravestones, I have chosen to follow the pronunciation of classical Syriac. Spi rantized sounds are underlined. Non-Syriac names are transcribed according to RÁSONYI & BASKI, 2007. 93 It looks like there might be a final ‫ ܣ‬after the ‫ ܓ‬in the date, but this makes no sense and Chwolson has not included it, so I have not taken it into account in my reading. 94 Capital letters indicate uncertainty over the vocalization of this name. 41 88

‫ ܐܡܗ ܕܐܝܣܦܗܣܐܠܪ‬emeh d-ispah-salār Translation: The year 1573 [1261/62 CE]. This is the grave of PHṬSYS-sā qušṭānṣ (the teacher), the mother of the commander-in-chief. Commentary: This gravestone is a good example of the wealth of information, both lin guistic and non-linguistic, that we can gain from this corpus. Linguistically, we may note the following:95 1. Whereas grammatically it would be more correct to have the prefix ‫( ܒ‬b, “in”) before the word ‫( ܫܢܬ‬šant, “year”), as is the case in the next three inscriptions,96 it is missing here and in many inscriptions in the corpus. 2. The demonstrative pronoun “this” in the phrase “this is the grave” should always be in the masculine, since it refers to the masculine noun ‫ܩܒܪ‬ (qabr, “grave”). On the gravestones, however, when the person named is a female, as with this example, the demonstrative pronoun “this” is changed from the masculine ‫( ܗܢܘ‬hānaw) to the feminine ‫ܗܕܐ ܗܝ‬ (hādāy). 3. In order to express the phrase “the grave of [name],” the prefix ‫( ܕ‬d, “of”) should be added to the name, but here it is missing (although it has been correctly used in the expression emeh d-ispah-salār “mother of the commander-in-chief”). These minor details, along with many other mis takes in the inscriptions, show that the stone-carvers were certainly not native speakers of Syriac and may not have been literate in any lan guage.97 The word ‫( ݎܘܫܛܐܢܨ‬qušṭānṣ) is interesting on several accounts. It be gins with a special letter ‫ ݎ‬that is borrowed from the Christian Sogdian al phabet, which in turn was a modified version of the Syriac alphabet. Alt hough ‫ ݎ‬in Christian Sogdian is used to represent phonetic /x/,98 in Chris tian Turkic texts (primarily the gravestones), it generally represents phonetic

For more on the following grammatical and orthographic points, see KLEIN, 2002, [11] [18]. 96 Tashkent gravestones No. 2-4 all have the more grammatically correct bašnat (“in the year”).97 As KLEIN, 2002, [22] notes, “the orthography of the Turkic parts of these inscriptions is no better… The stonemasons were here as elsewhere illiterate, uneducated people.” 98 SIMS-WILLIAMS, 1989, 178; SIMS-WILLIAMS & EVERSON, 2002. 42

95

/q/, especially in Turkic words and personal names,” but it can also repre sent phonetic /k/ in Turkic words." By comparison, the Syriac letter & can

represent both 1) its usual value of phonetic /k/ in Syriac words and names

and 2) phonetic /q/ in Turkic words and names," showing that there was no direct correlation between these two letters and the sounds /k/ and /q/. Until recently, scholars dealing with the gravestones understood quštåns to be a corrupted form of Constance (or Constantia)," the feminine form of the Late Latin name Constantius, which was itself derived from Constans,

meaning “constant, steadfast.” It occurs frequently in the gravestone corpus, along with its variant = \,zaas (qunstans), = \,z^3 (quštans) and ºxas

(quštas)." In almost every case, it occurs after a female name (e.g. a.e., Maryam; reaei, Rafiqa; rº, saiae, Febronia).

However, Werner Sundermann has pointed out that this word is actually *xuštånö, a loan-word from Sogdian. Although unattested in Sogdian, it would be the feminine form of xušte, xuāt, which is found in the gravestone corpus in the form \,zas (qusti)." The original meaning is “elder, eldest,” but in Christian Sogdian texts it usually means “teacher.” Thus, the pronunci ation of the word should be amended to quštånö, since the Syriac letter e is consistently used to render the Turkic sound /č/ on the gravestones. Whether those with this title taught in schools overseen by the church or were possibly

in charge of educating the daughters of the ruling class is unclear." ” e.g. as (qoy) “sheep” and *ašava real-o resco rºox=> = {acas, e&u. A 3-rº oxa Syrian monk who was instrumental in organising Monophysites in opposition to the official Chalcedonian Christology of the Byzantine Empire. 170 T.imothy (Bidawid), vi-vii. The Maronites re-united with Rome in the thirteenth century, the first eastern Christians to do so.

" Braun, 1901a, 150. "* For a discussion of these letters, see G. Uray, “Tibet’s Connections with Nestorianism and Manicheism in the 8th-10th centuries”, Contributions on Tibetan Language, History and Culture (Vienna, 1983), 400–404.

" Timothy (Bidawid), av117 = Jerome Labourt, De Timotheo I Nestorianorum Patriarcha (728-823) et Christianorum Orientalium condicione sub Chaliphis Abbasidis (Paris, 1904a), 45.

" The Syriac word A.- (Beth) has a broad range of meaning, including house, room, fam ily, nation, race, people’, and can refer to both a place name and those associated with that place (Payne Smith, 1903, 43). When combined with an ethnonym, as in re.siev A.- (Beth Turkāyā), I leave it unglossed, since it is often unclear from the context whether an ethnic group or its territory is meant. Similarly, Syriac ethnonyms for Turkic groups with the gen tilic ending -āyé (e.g. Turkāyā, Qumanāye) are also left unglossed.

cn"rº r^n rºua-3\s- tºo *-av\ :*acas,

an=x

e&u=

canºsorº

aco rºax-ox rºaº crºss rºax=~i= ,&u=&\rº tex **a*,\,cota)

ae+\,--on rºa-rº coèas&a= easo Arezo ca" was ºw.rº AA ºnes area

rºcný was

the co erºs sco .co&a=\-on rºxsor-A => *

"-i-A taxº, -re -a-A elius e-ºe-aasrºss rºis-A /2/ For behold, even in our days – prior to these ten years that I have been entrusted with the service of the administration of the church,

for even now I have been thirteen" years more or less in this service – the king of the Turkāyé, with more or less all of his territory, has left the godless error from antiquity, for he has become acquainted with Christianity by the operation of the great power of the Messiah, that by which all are subject to him. And he has asked us in his writ ings ſabout/ how he might appoint a Metropolitan for the territory of his kingdom. This also we have done through ſi.e. with the help of] God. And also the letter that we wrote to him we will send to you if it is pleasing to our Lord. Letter XLVII

arºo rºaia, Au-A * ~\,-\aavº e Aco rºad- rºot *.x=n "rºadè, Au-A raverº sax-ass eu-A The Spirit has anointed in these days a Metropolitan for Beth Turkāye and we are also preparing to anoint another one for Beth Tuptăyé.

Background on the Letters

Letter XLI is Timothy’s attempt to convince the Maronites to join them

selves doctrinally and ecclesiastically to the Church of the East.” In light of this (and the controversy over his election during the first two years of his

patriarchate),” it is understandable that he asserts his patriarchal authority in such clear terms in the letter. Although he couches it in terms of servant hood and ministry, he is uncompromising in declaring his right to sit on the ''' Timothy (Bidawid), as 124 = Labourt, 1904a, 43 = Alphonse Mingana, “The Early Spread of Christianity in Central Asia and the Far East: A New Document,” in Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Vol. 9, No. 2 (1925), 306. "" As T.imothy (Bidawid), 124 noted, Labourt, 1904a, 43 translated this as duodecim, rather than tredecim.

" Timothy (Braun I), 308/309-311 = Labourt, 1904a, 43,45. " It is, in the words of Cardinal Tisserant, un exposé de la foi nestorienne rédigé avec une intention missionnaire’ (Timothy (Bidawid), vi).

" Timothy (Bidawid), 3-4, Wright, 1894, 191-193. 67

patriarchal throne of Seleucia-Ctesiphon, recently relocated to Baghdad." However, his motivations seem to have been as much missional as political; he undoubtedly saw himself as a key figure in the proclamation of “this hy

postasis"... who was crucified on our behalf... in different and diverse lands and races and languages.” Although he lived his whole life in the heartland of the Arab Caliphate and thus never visited most of the extensive territory under his patriarchal authority, Timothy was very conscious of ruling over a jurisdiction much larger than any other on earth, whether civil or ecclesiastical. Not only was he a trusted figure at the caliphal court, the head of the largest dhimmi under Muslim rule (those living in “Babel,” Persia and Assyria); there were also far-off and exotic territories beyond the pale of Islam that were “under this

patriarchal throne,” including the lands of the Indians (Beth Hinduwäyē), Chinese (Beth Sinăyé), Tibetans (Beth Tuptăyé) and Turks (Beth Turkāyā). This undoubtedly gave him considerable prestige and influence in the eyes of the Abbasid caliphs. The initial mission of the Church of the East to China took place in 635, inaugurating several centuries of Syriac Christian presence in the Middle

Kingdom,” and the famous Xi'an Stele was erected in 781,” during Tim othy’s patriarchate. Reflecting on the presence of Christianity in both China and India, he wrote in Letter XIII (795-798, also to Sergius) that reºsco

rº-º-o rºya”- ºr-ass &u=\o re-oxico &u=A re-asa, evas re-tº sa, A= “Many monks” have crossed the seas to Beth Hinduwäyé and Beth Sinăyé with only a staff and a bag”;” in the same letter, he referred to the death of rºss &u=x rºy-Maaty so “the Metropolitan of Beth Sinaya.” According to Thomas of Marga's Book of Governors (ca. 850), “the letters of Mar Timothy” also mention the election of *** *** ****** ** “David, " This took place in 775, 25 years after the Abbasids established their capital in Baghdad. ” Syr. rºase can be translated as either ‘hypostasis or simply person’ (Payne Smith, 1903, 509-510). Here, Timothy undoubtedly means the former, designating the second per son of the Trinity, equivalent to Gk. Öſtgatóolç.

* See Ian Gillman & Hans-Joachim Klimkeit. Christians in Asia before 1500 (Ann Arbor, 1999), 265-305. I pass over here the history of the Church of the East in India, summarized in Gillman & Klimkeit, 1999, 155–202.

* See P. Y. Saeki, The Nestorian Documents and Relics in China (2nd ed.) (Tokyo, 1951), 11-112. The writer of the stele had presumably not heard of the death of Henanisho II (775 780) the year before, since he records that it was erected in the time of rea,\ax\o slax, as ca,ai. Aya, Henanisho, Catholicos, Patriarch.”

" *.*.*... can also mean ‘solitary, hermit, anchorite (Payne Smith, 1903, 191). * Timothy (Braun II), 107/70. * Timothy (Braun II), 109/72. 68

Metropolitan to Beth Ṣināyē,” presumably the successor to the deceased Met ropolitan.187 Both letters connect the Tibetans (‫ )ܒܝܬ ܬܘܦܬܝܐ‬with the Turks ( ‫ܒܝܬ‬ ‫)ܛܘ̈ܪܟܝܐ‬. During the eighth and ninth centuries, the Tibetan Empire was a major power in both Central Asia and China.188 Timothy’s enigmatic refer ence to the imminent appointment of a Metropolitan for Beth Tuptāyē in Let ter XLVII gives a tantalizing insight into the ephemeral presence of Christi anity in that empire.189 Although Jean Dauvillier concluded that it was al ready in existence before Timothy’s patriarchate,190 we know nothing more about this mysterious metropolitanate and the remaining evidence for Chris tianity in Tibet at this time is scanty at best.191 Turkic Conversions to Christianity The date of the Turkic conversion mentioned by Timothy is unclear, part ly due to the awkward grammar of the sentence, which mentions “in our days,” “ten years [ago]” and “thirteen years [ago].” Jerome Labourt, who first translated this text, understood the conversion to have happened in 792, ap proximately when the letter was written.192 Most others, including Raphaël Bidawid (who established the dates of all of Timothy’s letters) have dated it ten years earlier, in 782/83.193 The grammar seems to indicate that the con version occurred sometime between ten and thirteen years prior to the time of writing. “Thirteen years” presumably refers to Timothy’s enthronement in 780, “ten years” perhaps to the consolidation of his authority that occurred Governors, IV.20 (238/448). This letter does not seem to have survived. On which, see Christopher I. Beckwith, The Tibetan Empire in Central Asia (Princeton, 1987). 189 On which, see articles II-V in Jean Dauvillier, ed. Histoire et institutions des Eglises orientales au Moyen Age (London, 1983) and Uray, 1983. 190Jean Dauvillier, “Les Provinces Chaldéennes ‘de l’Extérieur’ au Moyen Age,” in Mé langes offerts au R. P. Ferdinand Cavallera (Toulouse, 1948), 292. 191 Although a Sogdian inscription found adjacent to several ‘Nestorian’ crosses inscribed on a boulder in Ladakh (northern India) was previously thought to be the work of a Christian en route from Samarkand to the qaghan of Tibet in the mid-ninth century, Nicholas Sims Williams has since shown that it was probably written by a Buddhist, although the crosses and one or two other inscriptions in the area indicate that Christians, probably Sogdian trad ers, did pass through this area (Nicholas Sims-Williams, “The Sogdian Inscriptions of Ladakh,” in Antiquities of Northern Pakistan: Reports and Studies (Rock Carvings and In scriptions along the Karakorum Highway, Vol. 2), ed. by Karl Jettmar (Mainz, 1993), 151 163). 192 Jerome Labourt, Le Christianisme dans l’Empire Perse sous la Dynastie Sassanide (224 632) (2nd ed.) (Paris, 1904b), 14. 193 Timothy (Bidawid), 80. See the discussion in Uray, 1983,402. 69

187 188

after all the bishops acknowledged him as the legitimate Patriarch at a synod held in 781/82. Thus, the conversion “in our days” could have occurred any time between 780 and 783. Writing in 1214, Mari ibn Sulaymān claimed that Timothy himself led in to faith “the Khāqān, king of the Turks” (‫)خاقان ملك الرتك‬.194 However, Timo thy’s letter does not say that he personally converted the king, but merely that the latter had “become acquainted with Christianity by the operation of the great power of the Messiah.” In truth, it is difficult to see how Timothy could have led him into faith, since there is no indication that the two met, unless it took place through the correspondence between them. Two other similar events described in Syriac and Christian Arabic literature suggest that the conversion may have been facilitated either by someone in the church hierar chy located closer to the Turkic heartland in Central Asia or by members of the mercantile community that traded along the Silk Road. The conversion of the Turks to Christianity mentioned by Timothy is the second of three such events.195 The first conversion is mentioned in the Khuzistan Chronicle (ca. 660-680), also known as the Guidi Chronicle (after Ignazio Guidi who first published the Syriac text)196 or the Anonymous East Syrian Chronicle. In it, the anonymous writer tells how “Elia, Metropolitan of Merv, made disciples of many people from the Ṭurkāyē and from other peoples.” Although no date is given, scholars usually date it to 644.197 The extract, which occurs at the end of the Khuzistan Chronicle, de scribes in detail how, while travelling somewhere “in the outer border areas beyond (Merv),” Elia “encountered a minor ruler198 there who was going out to make war against another king.” The ruler demanded that Elia “demon strate a sign for me like the priests of my gods.” When the Turkic “priests” 194

Majdal I,

٧٣/64.

195 All three conversions are explored in Erica C. D. Hunter, “The Conversion of the Kerait to Christianity in A.D. 1007,” in Zentralasiatische Studien, Vol. 22 (1989/1991), 142-163. 196 Ignazio Guidi, “Un nuovo testo siriaco sulla storia degli ultimi Sassanidi,” in Actes de Huitième Congrès International des Orientalistes, tenu en 1889 à Stockholm et à Christia nia, Section I: Semitique, Sous-section B (Leiden, 1893), 3-36. 197 Based on the fact that the narrative is preceded by a reference to Patriarch Mar Ama (646-650) and followed by mention of the Muslim general Khālid ibn al-Walid (d. 642). However, Mihály Kmoskó has noted that ‘we cannot state positively whether the missionary activity of Elias of Marw preceded or followed the Arab conquest… Thus, the exact date of the event cannot be fixed’ (Ka oly Czeglédy, “Monographs on Syriac and Muhammadan Sources in the Literary Remains of M. Kmoskó,” in Acta Orientalia Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae, Vol. 4 (1954), 58, based on Mihály Kmoskó & Felföldi Szabolcs, Szír írók a steppe népeiről (Budapest, 2004), 143-144). 198 Syr. ‫ ܡܠܟܘܢܐ‬can also be translated as ‘princeling’ or ‘kinglet.’ 70

subsequently engaged in weather magic, so that “the air became thick with clouds and wind, and thunder and lightning set in… then that Elia shook with divine power and he made the sign of the heavenly cross and restrained that phantasm which the rebellious demons had fabricated. And it completely vanished all at once. Then when the minor ruler saw this thing that the blessed one Elia had done, he fell down and worshipped before him. And he believed, and his entire cohort. And he (Elia) sent them down to a river and baptised all of them and appointed for them priests and deacons and returned to his region.”199 The third conversion is recounted by the Christian Arabic writer Mari ibn Sulaymān in his Kitāb al Majdal (Book of the Tower) (1214)200 and Bar ʿEbroyo’s Chronicon Ecclesiasticum (1286),201 both of whom attribute the report to another Metropolitan of Merv, ʿAbdisho.202 Bar ʿEbroyo gives the following summary in his Chronicon Syriacum (1286), dated to AH 398 (1007/08 CE): “And in that year, the members of a certain tribe from the tribes of the inner [or remote] Turkāyē in the east, who are called Kerait, be lieved in Messiah. And they became disciples and were baptised through a miracle which happened with their king.”203 Bar ʿEbroyo’s more extensive account in the Chronicon Ecclesiasticum specifically mentions how, after getting lost in the mountains while hunting and then being directed back to his camp by a saint who appeared to him in a vision, “when he [the king] re turned in safety to his tents, he called the Christian merchants who were pre sent there and he discussed with them about faith.”204 Thus, the king in Timothy’s account was most likely converted through contact with Syriac Christians in Central Asia, perhaps a bishop or metropoli tan or, even more likely, Christian merchants. However, unlike the earlier Khuzistan, 34-35/28-29 = Theodor Nöldeke, tr., Die von Guidi herausgegebene syrische Chronik (Wien, 1893), 39-40 = Mingana, 1925, 305-306. 200 Following the date given in Wright, 1894, 255. Scholars now consider the authorship and dating of this work to be more complex than originally thought (Bénédicte Landron, Chré tiens et Musulmans en Irak: Attitudes Nestoriennes vis-à-vis de l’Islam (Paris, 1994), 99 108). 201 Following current academic conventions, I use Bar ʿEbroyo rather than Bar Hebraeus. 202 Chron. Eccl. II, 279-281/280-282 = B.O. II, 444-445 = Mingana, 1925, 308-311; Majdal I, ١١٢-١١٣/99-100. Note that Section II of Chron. Eccl. is sometimes referred to as Volume 199

III. Chron. Syr., 204/184. As Hunter, 1989/1991 notes, there is some question as to whether the group which converted were indeed the Kerait or this was a subsequent gloss added by Bar ʿEbroyo. 204 Chron. Eccl. II, 279/280 = Mingana, 1925, 309. See Erica C. D. Hunter, “The Church of the East in Central Asia,” in Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library, Vol. 78, No. 3 (1996), 140. 71 203

conversion of the Turkic minor ruler and the later Kerait conversion, it is un likely that the Metropolitan of Merv was involved in this conversion, espe cially if it took place in 782/83, since Timothy’s election as Patriarch had been actively opposed by the incumbent in that office, Joseph. Although Timothy deposed and replaced him, his successor, Gregory was likely more concerned with bringing peace to the metropolitanate than with any mission ary activity. However, there was already a metropolitanate of Samarkand, from which Christian missionaries or merchants could have made contact with these Turks. It was created either during the patriarchate of Ishoʿyahb, according to Ibn aṭ-Ṭayyib (d. 1043) – referring to either Ishoʿyahb I (582-596), Ishoʿyahb II (628-646) or Ishoʿyahb III (650-658) – or during the patriarchate of Ṣaliba Zakha (714-728), according to ʿAbdisho bar Berikha’s Nomocanon (1290). ʿAbdisho also mentions that others ascribe its creation to the Patriarchs Ahai (410-414) or Silas (503-523).205 The existence of a Metropolitan in Samar kand in the fifth or sixth centuries is highly unlikely, since the much-closer Hephthalites did not even receive a bishop until ca. 550, but a seventh or eighth century date is indeed plausible.206 Identifying the Turks in Timothy’s Letters The conversion described by Timothy was on a much larger scale than that which Elia of Merv had facilitated 150 years earlier. The ruler involved was a ‫“ ܡܠܟܐ‬king,” as opposed to a ‫“ ܡܠܟܘܢܐ‬kinglet,” and “more or less all of his territory” followed his example, rather than just his army. The iden tity of the Turkic tribe referred to by Timothy has been the subject of conjec ture for nearly a century. François Nau asserted that this was the origin of the metropolitanates of Kashghar and Almaliq.207 However, this is highly specu 205 Ibn aṭ-Ṭayyib VI.16 (II, 123); ʿAbdisho, Nom., 304/141-142 = B.O. III.2, 426. Both au thorities say that the Metropolitanates of Herat and China were established at the same time as Samarkand. 206 It was certainly well-established by the time of Catholicos Theodosius I (Athanasius) (853-858), who refers to it in a list of metropolitanates, as recorded in ʿAbdisho, Nom., 308/146. On Patriarch Mar Aba’s appointment of a bishop for the Hephthalites (‫)ܗܦܬܪܝܐ‬, see Histoire, 266-269 = Oskar Braun, tr., Ausgewählte Akten persischer Märtyrer (Kempten & München, 1915a), 217-218 = Mingana, 1925, 304-305. Mingana gives the date as 549, but according to Paul Peeters, “Observations sur la vie syriaque de Mar Aba, Catholicos de l’église perse (540-552),” in Miscellanea Giovanni Mercati, Vol. V (1946), 106-108 it took place in 551. 207 François Nau, “L’expansion nestorienne en Asie,” in Annales du Musée Guimet, Biblio thèque de vulgarisation, Vol. 40 (1914), 247-248. Nau’s argument was based largely on the conclusion that a religious dignitary in the famous Inscription of Karabalghasun was a ‘Nes 72

lative, since the first reference we have to a Metropolitan of Kashghar is four centuries later under Patriarch Elia III (1176-1190), according to ʿAmr ibn Mattai (ca. 1350), who also included it in his list of metropolitanates under the name ‫( كاشغر ونواكث‬Kashghar and Navekath).208 Almaliq, based on an interpretation of the Metropolitan of Khan-baliq and al-Faliq (‫والفالق‬

‫)خان ابلق‬

in the same list of ʿAmr, is even more problematic.209 It is more likely that the Metropolitan of Turkistan (‫)تركستان‬, found in ʿAmr’s list and discussed below, can be equated with the metropolitanate established by Timothy. In contrast, Paul Pelliot suggested that the Metropolitan of the Turks did not have a fixed see like that of Samarkand. Rather, being attached to a no madic people, it was peripatetic, with its “centre de gravité” at Otrar, a city on the Syr Darya located about 250 km north-east of Chach (Tashkent).210 Although this is possible and may have a precedent in the earlier bishopric created for the Hephthalites, Pelliot gave no specific reasons for choosing Otrar and we have no textual or archaeological evidence of Christianity in that place. Finally, Annemarie von Gabain suggested that the ruler in ques tion was an Uighur qaghan, discussed below.211 Whether it happened in 782/83 or 792/93, the conversion occurred sever al decades after a coalition of Uighur, Qarluq and Basmil forces overthrew the Second Türk Empire in 742, to be replaced in 744 by the Uighur Empire, also centred in Mongolia. To the south, the short-lived Türgesh domination of the Ili River Basin and Sogdiana (716-740) had already disintegrated. By torian’ Christian, even though Edouard Chavannes, “Le Nestorianisme et l’Inscription de Kara-Balgassoun,” in Journal Asiatique, Ser. IX, Tom. IX (1897), 85 had earlier concluded that it was impossible to determine the religion mentioned in the inscription. 208 Majdal II, ١١١/64, ١٢٦/73. Elia consecrated two consecutive metropolitans for the city, John (‫ )يوانيس‬and Sabrisho (‫)سربيشوع‬. 209

Majdal II,

١٢٦/73. See the discussion in Eduard Sachau, Zur Ausbreitung des

Christentums in Asien (Berlin, 1919), 22; Dauvillier, 1948, 305-306. 210 Paul Pelliot, Recherches sur les chrétiens d’Asie centrale et d’Extrême-Orient, Vol. I (Paris, 1973), 6-7, followed by Dauvillier, 1948, 285-286 and Hunter, 1989/1991, 158-159. The latter posits that ‘the Oghuz appear to have been the subjects of the conversions of A.D. 644 [Elia] and 781/2 [Timothy],’ but in light of the evidence presented here, this seems un likely.211 The title qaghan, meaning ‘supreme ruler,’ was used first by the Juan-Juan before it was borrowed into Old Turkic (O.T. NGq). It was the functional equivalent of the titles Βασιλεύς and Son of Heaven used by the Greeks and Chinese, respectively. In the Turkic world, it came to be used only by dynasties that were linked to the royal Ashina clan, such as the rul ers of the First and Second Türk Empires, the Khazars, the Uighurs, and the Qarluqs. 73

766, the remnants of the Türgesh had submitted to the Qarluq Turks, who now ruled over much of the former Western Türk territory, especially the Yeti Su or Semirechye (Seven Rivers) area.212 However, reflecting their ini tial relationship between 742 and 744, the Uighur ruler was called qaghan, while the Qarluq ruler used the lower title yabghu (O.T. uGBY).213 Perhaps significantly, two other Turkic polities converted to major world religions during this period. In late 762 or early 763, while in China helping to put down the An-lu-shan rebellion, the Uighur ruler Bögü Qaghan (759 779) converted to Manichaeism after encountering some Sogdian devotees of that faith. Upon returning to his capital, Karabalghasun, he proclaimed it the official religion of his empire.214 Shortly afterwards, according to several Arabic sources, the king of the Khazars converted to Judaism during the cali phate of Harun al-Rashid (786-809).215 The conversion to Manichaeism necessarily rules out the Uighurs as can didates for Timothy’s Ṭurkāyē, despite von Gabain’s thesis that the ruler in question was Alp Qutlugh Bilgä Qaghan (Tun bagha, 779-789).216 Although he murdered his cousin Bögü Qaghan, took over power and inaugurated a period of anti-Sogdian and anti-Manichaean policy, this probably meant no more than “a return to the natural cults of the Turkic peoples.”217 Muslim geographical and historical accounts are uniform in asserting that Manichae ism was the primary faith of the Uighurs (referred to as the Toquz Oghuz in Arab accounts) at this time.218 Although there is abundant evidence of Chris 212 The Tibetan capture of Beshbaliq (near modern-day Urumchi, China) in 790 resulted in the Uighurs losing control of the southern and western parts of their empire, thus enabling the Qarluqs to strengthen their power base there. 213 Ibn Khurd., 12. As Gerard Clauson, An Etymological Dictionary of Pre-Thirteenth Cen tury Turkish (Oxford, 1972), 873 notes, this ancient title was ‘conferred by the xağan on close relatives and normally carried with it the duty of administering part of the xağan’s do minions.’ See EI, s.v. ‘Yabghu.’ With the collapse of the Uighur Empire in 840, it seems that the Qarluq leader inherited the title of qaghan (Peter B. Golden, “The Karakhanids and early Islam,” in The Cambridge History of Early Inner Asia, ed. by Denis Sinor (Cambridge: 1990), 349-351). 214 Colin Mackerras, “The Uighurs,” in The Cambridge History of Early Inner Asia, ed. by Denis Sinor (Cambridge, 1990), 329-335. 215 Omeljan Pritsak, “The Khazar Kingdom’s Conversion to Judaism,” in Harvard Ukraini an Studies, Vol. 2 (1978), 276-278. 216 Uray, 1983,403. 217 Colin Mackerras, The Uighur Empire according to the T’ang Dynastic Histories: a study in Sino-Uighur relations, 744-840 (2nd ed.) (Canberra, 1972), 10. See also Mackerras, 1990, 333. 218 These accounts are all based on the report of Tamim ibn Baḥr’s journey to the Uighurs in 821, shortly after the conversion mentioned by Timothy took place. This is discussed in Vla dimir Minorsky, “Tamīm ibn Baḥr’s Journey to the Uyghurs,” in Bulletin of the School of 74

tianity in the subsequent Uighur Kingdom of Qocho (ca. 860-1284),219 we have no record of an Uighur ruler converting to Christianity in either the Ui ghur Empire or the Uighur Kingdom. Gardizi (ca. 1050) specifically notes, “The Toğuz Oğuz Xāqān traditionally belongs to the Manichaean sect. There are, however, within his metropolis and dominions Christians (tarsā).”220 Other Central Asian Turkic tribes mentioned in Old Turkic inscriptions and by Muslim writers in the eighth and ninth centuries include the Basmil, Khalaj, Kimek, Kirghiz, Oghuz, Pecheneg, Qarluq, Qipchaq and Türgesh.221 Of these, we know nothing of Christianity amongst the Basmil, Kimek, Pecheneg222 or Türgesh, but there are either definite or possible Christian connections with the Oghuz, Kirghiz, Qipchaq, Khalaj and Qarluq. Tracing the early history of the Oghuz is very difficult; although the eth nonym occurs in the eighth-century Orkhon Turkic and Uighur inscriptions (O.T. ZGO), the referent is not always clear, since the word itself essentially means “tribe, tribal union.”223 The earliest reference to the group that is later known as the Oghuz (Ar. ‫غز‬, Ghuzz) occurs in Baladhuri (d. 892) and refers to events during the caliphate of al-Muʿtaṣim (833-842), after the time of Timothy,224 but there are no references to Christianity amongst them at this point, already too late for the conversion in question.

Oriental and African Studies, Vol. 12 (1948), 275-305. See also Ibn Khurd., 22; Ibn al Faqih, 388; Qudāma, 203. 219 On which, see Tang Li, “A History of Uighur Religious Conversions (5th - 16th Centu ries),” in Asia Research Institute, Working Paper Series, No. 44 (2005), 39-41. 220 Gardizi, 134. This Persian term for Christians – M.P. nkaIQrt (tarsāg); N.P. ‫( ترسا‬tarsā), from the verb

‫ترسيدن‬, tarsidān, ‘to fear’ – is discussed in Shlomo Pines, “The Iranian name

for Christians and the ‘God-Fearers’,” in Proceedings of the Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities II (Jerusalem, 1968), 143-152. 221 Ibn Khurd., 22-23; Yaʿqubi, 113; Ibn al-Faqih, 388= Minorsky, 1948, 283-284. The ear liest Muslim source of information on Central Asian Turkic tribes is Ibn Khurdādhbih (ca. 885), who may not necessarily reflect the situation a century earlier, at the time of the con version in question. Due to the geographical location in Central Asia, the Bulghars and Khazars are not considered here. The Bashkir, Burdas, Chigil, Sarir, and Yaghma are also discounted, since they are only mentioned in later sources. So too are the Tatars, mentioned in the Old Turkic runic Orkhon inscriptions (720-735) and the Uighur runic Šine-Usu in scription (759), since it is unclear if they were Turkic or Mongolic at this time. 222 The origins of the Pechenegs are very obscure (EI, s.v. ‘Pečenegs,’ 289), so it is unclear if they were even present in Central Asia at the time of the conversion. 223 Talat Tekin, A Grammar of Orkhon Turkic (Bloomington, 1968), 234/267, 235/268, 237/271; G. J. Ramstedt, “Zwei Uigurische Runeninschriften in der Nord-Mongolei,” in Journal de la Societé Finno-Ougrienne, Vol. 30, No. 3 (1913), 12-13, 16-17. 224 Baladhuri II, 205-206. 75

Daniel Chwolson, followed by Wilhelm Barthold,225 made much of the fact that two of the sons of the Oghuz leader Seljük (d. 1009) had biblical by Bar names, “Michael, as recorded Yabghu (orʿEbroyo Payghu?), (1286) Moses – and Arslan” 226 –but this suggests the influence of the Jewish Khazar qaghan under whom Seljük and his Oghuz warriors served, rather than any Christian connection. More con cretely, as Barthold noted, the Persian writer Qazwini (d. 1283/84) says of the Oghuz that “they are Christians who were allied to the Saljuq sultans until the time of Sanjar ibn Malikshah [1118-1157].” Following a report of Biruni (ca. 1000), Qazwini describes a spring in the land of the Kimek at which is “a rock with the imprint of a human being’s foot and the imprint of his palms with their fingers, and the imprint of his knees, as if he were kneeling, and the imprints of a boy’s feet, and the imprint of the hoofs of a donkey. And the Ghuzz Turks kneel before it when they see it because they are Christians and attribute it to Jesus.”227 Although relevant to the history of Christianity amongst the steppe peoples, this is long after the conversion in question and seems to reflect the incorporation of oral traditions about Christianity into Turkic shamanistic practices, rather than the more structured version of the faith, involving a clearly-defined ecclesiastical hierarchy, that is reflected in Timothy’s correspondence. Based on rather scarce data, Anatoly Khazanov suggests that “there was a penetration of Christianity to the Qirghiz, although a part of the Qirghiz aris tocracy converted to Manichaeism.”228 However, the use of O.T. Rm to rep resent the Syriac word ‫( ܡܪ‬mar), “lord, master” in an Old Uighur inscrip tion erected by an ethnic Kirghiz almost certainly refers to a Manichaean teacher, not a Christian one.229 There are certainly references to the tarsā, a

Daniel Chwolson, “Syrisch-Nestorianische Grabinschriften aus Semirjetschie,” in Mé moires de l’Académie impériale des sciences de St.-Pétersbourg, Ser. VII, Tom. XXXVII (1890), 107; Wilhelm Barthold, Zur Geschichte des Christentums in Mittel-Asien bis zur mongolischen Eroberung (Turnhout & Leipzig, 1901), 42. 226 Chron. Syr., 218/196. 227 My thanks to Amina Elbendary for her translation from the Arabic of Qazwini II, ٣٩۴225

۳۹۵. Biruni’s original report does not equate the Ghuzz worshipping the imprints with Chris tianity (Biruni, 255). The report is also repeated in Qazwini I, 397 and Vladimir Minorsky, “The Khazars and Turks in the Ākām al-Marjān,” in Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, Vol. 9 (1937), 147, neither of which make the link to Christianity either. 228 Anatoly M. Khazanov, “The Spread of World Religions in Medieval Nomadic Societies of the Eurasian Steppes,” in Nomadic Diplomacy, Destruction and Religion from the Pacific to the Atlantic, ed. by Michael Gervers & Wayne Schlepp (Toronto, 1994), 20. 229 Ramstedt, 1913, 4-9. 76

Persian term for Christians,230 in the Kirghiz oral epic Manas, but these have yet to be analysed and it is unclear how far back they can be traced, given the way that oral epics evolve over time.231 Since the Kirghiz were subject to the Uighurs in the late eighth century, they cannot be the Turks described by Timothy. If indeed “Nestorianism became widespread among the Qyrghyz,” as Sergey Klyashtorny maintains, this did not happen until the mid-ninth cen tury, after they had ousted the Uighurs from power.232 Christianity amongst the Qipchaq Turks (known in western sources as the Cumans) is attested by various later authorities, including Marvazi (ca. 1120) and Michael the Syrian (1195). Marvazi relates that “the Qūn [part of the Qipchaq tribal confederation]… came from the land of Qitāy [China]… they [were] Nestorian Christians, and had migrated from their habitat, being pressed for pastures.”233 Similarly, after describing how they moved from the Central Asian heartland to somewhere north of “the border of the king dom of the Greeks,” Michael notes of the Qumanāyē that “they adhere much to the nation of Christians that are found in the land now, although their cus toms are confused.”234 However, although there are clear references to Qip chaq rulers converting in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries to Orthodox or Catholic Christianity (in Georgia, Russia and Hungary), there is no infor mation on when they adopted “Nestorian” Christianity and certainly no refer ences to rulers converting in the eighth century.235 There has been speculation that the

‫مطران حليح‬

‘Metropolitan of Ḥaliḥ’ in

ʿAmr ibn Mattai’s list of metropolitanates, which is rendered as

‫خلج‬

‘Khalaj’ in one manuscript, refers to the Khalaj Turks, who lived in western See the footnote above, in the discussion of Christianity amongst the Uighurs. 231 Manas III, 60, 61, 147, 185, 263. The use of this Persian term, applied to ‘Nestorian’ Christians throughout Central Asia in several different literatures, suggests that this refers to Syriac Christians encountered earlier in the history of the Kirghiz, rather than the Russian Orthodox Christians that the Kirghiz came into contact with in the nineteenth century. 232 С. Г. Кляшторный, “Историко-культурное значение суджинской надписи,” in Проблемы Востоковедения, No. 5 (1959), 169. 233 Marvazi, IX.3 (29, 98). 234 Michael XIV.4 (570-571/III, 155). 235 The ethnic origin of the Qūn, before they merged with the Qipchaqs, is unclear (Peter B. Golden, “Religion among the Qıpčaqs of Medieval Eurasia,” in Central Asiatic Journal, Vol. 42 (1998), 185). As with the Pechenegs, we know little about the Qipchaqs or their ancestors at the time of the conversion that Timothy describes (see EI, s.v. ‘Kipčak’). Omeljan Pritsak, “Two Migratory Movements in the Eurasian Steppe in the 9th-11th Centuries,” in Proceed ings of the 26th International Congress of Orientalists, New Delhi 1964, Vol. 2 (New Delhi, 1968), 160 suggested that the migration in question took place ca. 900. On Christianity amongst the Qipchaqs, see Golden, 1998, 217-222. 77 230

Turkistan and Afghanistan.236 If so, this is another example of a Metropoli tan attached to a nomadic tribe, but there are no other references to this en igmatic metropolitanate and the concurrent mention of a Metropolitan of Turkistan in ʿAmr’s list suggests that the Turks that Timothy referred to are distinct from the Ḥaliḥ/Khalaj. Furthermore, ʿAbdisho bar Berikha (1315/16) includes in his list of metropolitanates ‫“ ܚܠܚ ܕܗܝ ܗܝ ܚܠܘܐܢ ܘܐܗܡܕܐܢ‬Ḥaliḥ, that is Ḥalwan and Hamadan,” suggesting that the reading in ʿAmr should indeed be ‫( حليح‬Ḥaliḥ), not ‫( خلج‬Khalaj).237 Equating this metropolitanate with Ḥalwan and Hamadan in western Iran clearly negates any connection with the Khalaj in western Turkistan and Afghanistan. The Qarluqs However, a good case can be made for identifying the Ṭurkāyē in Timo thy’s letter with the Qarluq Turks, also mentioned in the Orkhon Turkic and Uighur inscriptions (O.T. œLRq).238 The most convincing evidence is found in Narshakhi’s History of Bukhara (943/44), where we read that, in Muḥarram, AH 280 (March/April, 893 CE) the Samanid Amir Ismaʿil “went to fight Ṭarāz, where he experienced great difficulty. Finally the amīr of Ṭarāz came out with many dihqāns [landed gentry] and accepted Islam. Ṭarāz was thus subjugated. A large church was transformed into a grand mosque, and the

236

Majdal II,

١٢٦/73; M. Siouffi, “Notice sur un patriarche nestorien,” in Journal Asi

atique, Ser. VII, Tom. XVII (1881), 95. 237 Syn. Or., 619 = Jacques-Marie Vosté, tr., Ordo Iudiciorum Ecclesiasticorum, collectus, dispositus, ordinatus et compositus a Mar ‘Abdišo‘ Metropolita Nisibis et Armeniae (Città del Vaticano, 1940), 56. 238 Tekin, 1968,236/270; Ramstedt, 1913, 16-17, 24-25. I am not the first to make this equa tion. It was also made by the Russian scholar Sergey Klyashtorniy, followed by A. B. Ni kitin, a fact I became aware of only after independently coming to the same conclusion (Кляшторный, 1959, 168; А. Б. Никитин, “Христианство в Центральной Азии,” in Восточный Туркестан и Средняя Азия: история, культура, связи, ed. by Борис Литвинский (Москва, 1984), 127). Unfortunately, since their publications are in Russian, they have been overlooked by non-Russian scholars dealing with this issue. It is also sug gested in several unconnected statements found in Gillman & Klimkeit, 1999, 214, 218, 222, but these are not linked together by the authors and the theme is not developed any further. See also similar statements in Hans-Joachim Klimkeit, “Christian Art on the Silk Road,” in Künstlerischer Austausch. Artistic Exchange: Akten des XXVIII. Internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte, Berlin, 15.-20. Juli 1992, ed. by Thomas W. Gaehtgens (Berlin, 1993), 481-482. 78

khuṭba [sermon] was read in the name of the Commander of the Faithful Muʿtadid biʾllāh.”239 Ṭabari (d. 923) speaks of Ismaʿil raiding “the land of the Turks,” con quering their capital and capturing “their king and his wife Khātūn.”240 This is further corroborated by Masʿudi (d. 956), who tells us that the Turks were the Kharlukhiyya, the Arabic term for Qarluq.241 Bar ʿEbroyo also mentions this event, in an extract dependent on Ṭabari. Since the latter does not men tion the Christian status of the Turks involved, neither does Bar ʿEbroyo.242 Taraz (also known at various times as Talas), located 300 km north-east of Chach (Tashkent) was the Qarluq winter capital243 and the fact that the church was large enough to be transformed into a “grand mosque” suggests that it was probably a cathedral, the residence of at least a bishop, if not a metropolitan. Although Dauvillier mentioned the conversion of the Ta las/Taraz church into a mosque and suggested that the churches there and in Bukhara were attached to the putative metropolitanate centred on Otrar, he gave no evidence for this.244 It seems much more likely that the metropoli tanate was located in Talas/Taraz itself. As for Bukhara, where we also hear of a church being converted into a mosque,245 it probably came under the Metropolitan of Samarkand, since both cities lay within Samanid territory.246 The Qarakhanid dynasty, which was established in Kashghar ca. 943 and whose ruler Satuq Bughra Khan converted to Islam ca. 955, is now generally believed to have originated from the Qarluqs. 247 The report of Ibn Miskawayh (d. 1030) and later Ibn al-Athir (d. 1233) that “200,000 Turkish Narshakhi, 86-87. The Samanids were a Persian Muslim dynasty based in Bukhara, loyal allies of the Arab Caliphate. The practice of turning Christian churches into mosques can be traced back at least as far as the conversion of the church of St. John into the Grand Mosque of Damascus under Caliph ʿAbd al-Malik ibn Marwān (685-705), as recorded in Baladhuri I, 191-192. 240 A Turkic word (borrowed from Sogdian) originally meaning ‘lady’ or ‘wife,’ this title was used for the qaghan’s wife (Clauson, 1972, 602-603). 241 Ṭabari XXXVIII, 11; Masʿudi §3284 (V, 1319). See also the discussion in Omeljan Prit sak,“Von den Karluk zu den Karachaniden,” in Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, Vol. 101 (1951), 288-290; István Zimonyi, The Origins of the Volga Bulghars (Szeged, 1990), 169-172 and Narshakhi, 150. 242 Chron. Syr., 166/151. We may be sure that if Bar ʿEbroyo had known about the church in Taraz, he would have mentioned this fact. 243 Ibn Khurd., 21. 244 Dauvillier, 1948, 285. 245 Narshakhi, 53. 246 Not long after, Ibn al-Faqih (ca. 902) described the church at Samarkand as a well-known site, one of “le plus dignes de demeurer sur la face du temps et le plus éloignés d’être ef faces.” (Ibn al-Faqih, 296-297). 247 Pritsak, 1951; Golden, 1990, 354-357. 79 239

tents adopted Islam” in AH 349 (960/61 CE)248 – probably referring to the Qarluqs – seems to have completed the process. It is a curious mirror image of the 200,000 Kerait that Bar ʿEbroyo describes converting to Christianity in 1007/08 CE249 and seemingly involved the same process noted in Timothy’s letter, whereby the ruler was followed by “more or less all of his territory.” If Timothy’s Ṭurkāyē were the Qarluqs, who then ruled a Christian polity for over a century (until Ismaʿil ibn Aḥmad defeated them), this may help explain the later establishment of a metropolitanate in Kashghar during the period 1176-1190, mentioned above. Indeed, the link between the former Christian dynasty and the future Muslim Qarakhanid state may have been quite direct, as Peter B. Golden suggests: “Ismāʿīl Sāmānī’s [Qarluq] oppo nent at Ṭarāz may have been Oghulchak Kadïr Khan, son of Bilge Kül Kadïr Khan… This defeat (893) was perhaps responsible for his withdrawal to the Kashgar region… it was here that a Karakhanid prince, Satuk (perhaps his son or nephew) converted to Islam.”250 Since Kashghar was an important centre for the Eastern Qarakhanid Qaghanate (which formally split from the Western Qaghanate in 1041/42), perhaps the memory of the Christian past of the ruling dynasty provided an environment favourable for the Church of the East to establish a metropolitanate there. Textual and Archaeological Support This process of conversion to Islam, in many instances from Christianity, is perhaps also reflected in legends that circulated in the Sufi tariqah founded in Central Asia by Khoja Aḥmad Yassavi (d. 1166). These legends describe the holy war waged by the descendents of Caliph ʿAli in order to bring Islam to Central Asia, in which they fought with the ‫( ترسالر‬tarsālar), ‘Christians’ in Uzgand (Uzgen, Kyrgyzstan), Ferghana, Chach (Tashkent), Isfijab (Say ram, Kazakhstan), Kashghar and several other cities. Of particular interest are references to the ruler of Kashghar, “who was a Christian; he is called Müngüzliq Aq Qarakhān, but his Christian name is given as Yuhannān [a common name amongst Syriac Christians]” and the conversion of “Magians and Christians to Islam” at Qarghalïq, a fortress near Talas/Taraz. Although, as Devin DeWeese notes, the historicity of the ac

248 249 250

Ibn Misk. V, 196; Golden, 1990, 354. Chron. Eccl. II, 281/282 = Mingana, 1925, 309. Golden, 1990, 357, following Pritsak, 1951, 288-291. 80

count is highly suspect, the frequent mention of Christians in this text surely reflects some degree of historical reality.251 There is also significant archaeological evidence for the presence of Christianity in the Yeti Su area (modern day northern Kyrgyzstan and south ern Kazakhstan), the heartland of the Qarluq realm, during the eighth and ninth centuries. In Taraz itself, various Christian artefacts have been discov ered, including a Syriac inscription mentioning Peter and Gabriel,252 ossuar ies with crosses on them,253 a clay vessel fragment with a cross on it,254 and a building which has been identified as a church, although this has been dis puted.255 Other artefacts have been unearthed at Krasnaya Rechka (mediaeval Navekath), Aq-Beshim (mediaeval Suyab) and various other places in north ern Kyrgyzstan that were formerly under Qarluq rule.256 In particular, two churches have been partially excavated in Aq-Beshim. At least one (and pos sibly both) can be dated to the eighth century.257 Finally, in nearby Tokmak and Burana, hundreds of Christian gravestones, dating from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, were found in the 1880’s.258 Perhaps the earlier pres Devin DeWeese, “Yasavian Legends on the Islamization of Turkistan,” in Aspects of Altaic Civilization III: Proceedings of the Thirtieth Meeting of the Permanent International Altaistic Conference, ed. by Denis Sinor (Bloomington, 1990), 8-12. 252 А. Н. Бернштам, Памятники Старины ТаласскойДолины (Алма-ата, 1941), 21-22. 253 Л. И. Ремпель, “Некрополь Древнего Тараза,” in Краткие Сообщения Института Истории Материальной Культуры, Vol. 69 (1957), 110.; Frantz Grenet, Les pratiques funéraires dans l’Asie centrale sédentaire de la conquête grecque à l’islamisation (Paris, 1984), 180. 254 К. М. Байпаков, “Христианство Казахстана в Средние Века,” in Из Истории Древних Культов Средней Азии: Христианство, ed. by Г. А. Пугаченкова & Ю. Ф. Буряков (Ташкент, 1994), 99. 255 Maria Adelaide Lala Comneno, “Nestorianism in Central Asia during the First Millenni um: Archaeological Evidence,” in Journal of Assyrian Academic Studies, Vol. 11, No. 1 (1997), 41. 256 Much of this evidence is summarized in В. Д. Горячева & С. Я. Перегудова, “Памятники Христианства на Территории Кыргызстана,” in Из Истории Древних Культов Средней Азии: Христианство, ed. by Г. А. Пугаченкова & Ю. Ф. Буряков (Ташкент, 1994), 84-95; Байпаков, 1994; Grigori L. Semenov, Studien zur sogdischen Kultur an der Seidenstraße (Wiesbaden, 1996), 62-68; Lala Comneno, 1997, 40-45; Wassilios Klein, Das nestorianische Christentum an den Handelswegen durch Kyrgyzstan bis zum 14. Jh (Turnhout, 2000), 101-125. 257 Wassilios Klein, “A Newly Excavated Church of Syriac Christianity along the Silk Road in Kyrghyzstan,” in Journal of Eastern Christian Studies, Vol. 56 (2004), 25-47. 258 Chwolson, 1890; Daniel Chwolson, Syrisch-Nestorianische Grabinschriften aus Semirjetschie. Neue Folge (St. Petersburg, 1897). The first gravestone in Chwolson’s initial 1886 report was originally dated to 858. He later corrected this to 1258 (Daniel Chwolson, “Syrisch Grabinschriften aus Semirjetschie,” in Mémoires de l’Académie impériale des sci 81 251

ence of Christianity in the area enabled the faith to flourish again when Mon gol rule introduced a greater degree of religious tolerance. Motivations and Factors in the Conversion Religious conversion is a complex phenomenon, especially when rulers are involved.259 Thus, the political dimension of the conversion that Timothy reports should not be under-estimated. Although there were undoubtedly per sonal, even spiritual, reasons that the king of the Turks adopted Christianity, strategic factors were probably also involved. As Khazanov has noted, the rulers and aristocracy of nomadic societies understood well “the changes tak ing place in the political situation and the new possibilities, or even the ne cessity, of adjustment and readjustment.”260 The Qarluq yabghu would have been very aware that Manichaeism was the state religion of the Uighurs to the north. He was probably also apprised of the growing status of Judaism amongst the Khazars to the west. Although, as qaghans, the other two Turkic rulers had more status than he did, he may well have considered that adopting a world religion would increase his prestige in the nomadic world. Khazanov argues that the Khazar conversion to Judaism was “a declara tion of political and ideological independence… from the two major rival and partner states: the Muslim Caliphate and Christian Byzantium.” By adopting Judaism, the Khazars made a strong political statement about not being as similated or conquered by either of the empires to the south, as well as open ing their state up to Jewish merchants, scholars and craftsmen.261 Similarly, the Uighur conversion to Manichaeism constituted a “proclamation of ideo logical independence,” along with a “demonstration of political force,” mani fest in the Uighur demand that the Chinese prohibition on Manichaeism be ences de St.-Pétersbourg, Ser. VII, Tom. XXXIV, No. 4 (1886) 7-8; Chwolson, 1890, 15), but the literature continues to refer to the incorrect date, giving the impression that the earli est stones are from the ninth century (e.g. Mingana, 1925, 334; Dauvillier, 1948, 290; Lala Comneno, 1997, 40). A second stone, originally dated 911, was later discarded by Chwolson as too indistinct (Chwolson, 1886, 8; Chwolson, 1890, i). Thus, the earliest gravestone in Chwolson’s corpus can only be dated to 1201 or possibly 1186 (Chwolson, 1897, 5-6). An other gravestone not included in Chwolson’s corpus has been dated to either 789 or 909, but Wassilios Klein has shown that the date should rather be read as 1114/15 (Klein, 2000, 163 165). Since there are only two possible gravestones from the twelfth century (both with prob lematic readings) and the vast majority of the corpus dates from the mid-thirteenth to the mid-fourteenth centuries, they cannot be used as direct evidence of Christianity amongst the Qarluqs.259 For an excellent discussion of conversion to world religions in the Eurasian steppe, see Khazanov, 1994. 260 Khazanov, 1994, 15. 261 Khazanov, 1994, 16, 18. 82

removed.262 Again, a Manichaean state undoubtedly appealed to Sogdian Manichaean merchants, scholars and craftsmen, whose subsequent presence played a major role in the cultural elevation of the Uighurs.263 The Qarluq yabghu may well have been influenced by similar motives in his conversion to Christianity. Having already allied with the Arabs against the Chinese and Uighurs in the Battle of Talas (751), it was natural that the Qarluqs should seek ties with a religion represented in the Caliphate. The ra ther brutal history of jihad in Central Asia probably ruled out the idea of adopting Islam. Christianity, however, posed no such military (or taxation) threat to the Qarluqs. Though Timothy does not say what was communicated in his correspondence with the ruler, the latter surely became aware of the Patriarch’s status in the ʿAbbasid court and the extent of his jurisdiction. For his part, Timothy probably took every opportunity to impress these things upon the Turkic king. Additionally, parallel to the Khazars and Uighurs, con version to Christianity would have induced more Sogdian Christian mer chants, scholars and craftsmen to visit and even move to Qarluq territory. Fi nally, we may note the Qarluq-Tibetan alliance against the Uighurs and Chi nese in the late eighth and early ninth centuries, precisely when Timothy was appointing these metropolitans. Perhaps their mutual relationship with the “patriarchal throne” of Timothy played a role in the development of their po litical ties (or conversely, the latter may even have facilitated the former). Following the example of the Hephthalite ruler ca. 550, the king of the Turks requested a Metropolitan for his people. It is unclear how much time elapsed between the conversion and the request for (or indeed the appoint ment of) the first Metropolitan. Timothy’s reference to “his writings” (‫ )ܟܬܝܒܬܗ‬suggests that a certain amount of correspondence had been ex changed between the two, presumably translated between Syriac and Old Turkic (or Sogdian) along the way.264 Of special interest is the king’s request regarding “how he might appoint a Metropolitan for the territory of his kingdom.” The statement is in the third person, suggesting that the king wanted to appoint his own Metropolitan, ra ther than leave it in Timothy’s hands. Perhaps, if significant time had elapsed since first requesting a Metropolitan, he was growing impatient and wished to do the job himself. Furthermore, he presumably did not want to be put under the authority of the metropolitan of Samarkand, due to its location in Muslim Samanid territory. It was imperative that he have his own metropolitan, lo cated in his territory. The Samanid conquest of the Qarluqs a century later 262 263 264

Khazanov, 1994, 19. Later on, the Uighurs fulfilled the same function for the Mongols. Regrettably, this correspondence has not survived. 83

clearly demonstrated the need for the latter to remain independent from the former at the time of the conversion.265 This desire for independence can also be seen in Ṭabari’s reference to the following comment of al-Maʾmun, governor of Khorasan and future caliph, in the year AH 195 (810/11 CE): “Jabghūyah has abandoned obedience; Khāqān, the ruler of Tibet, is acting up… and I have no strength for even one of these matters.”266 Barthold rightly identifies the “Jabghūyah” as the yabg hu of the Qarluqs.267 It is perhaps no coincidence that both rulers who had recently acquired ‘Nestorian’ metropolitans were now causing trouble for the Caliphate. Based on Timothy’s statement in Letter XLI that “this also we have done”, the first Metropolitan was probably chosen sometime around 792/93. Timothy’s statement in Letter XLVII that “the Spirit has anointed in these days a Metropolitan for Beth Ṭurkāyē” almost certainly refers to the same event, rather than to a subsequent Metropolitan.268 Had clergy from the Church of the East previously been amongst his people or would this be their first contact with the church hierarchy? We have no way of knowing if the priests and deacons appointed for the minor ruler by Elia of Merv 150 years previously had inaugurated a presence amongst the Central Asian Turks that continued down to Timothy’s time. More likely, any previous contact with clergy was probably with representatives of the Samarkand metropolitanate, as suggested above. Postscript we What evidence do have that the metropolitanate which Timothy estab lished for the Turks lasted beyond the Samanid conquest in 893? Lists of metropolitanates in the Church of the East can be found in the works of Elia Jauhari of Damascus, Ibn aṭ-Ṭayyib, ʿAbdisho bar Berikha and ʿAmr ibn Mattai.269 Elia’s list, co-incidentally compiled in 893, the same year that Ta las/Taraz was conquered by the Muslims, mentions only ‫ هوفركيا قند‬the Prov

A parallel can perhaps be seen in the example of Boris I of Bulgaria, under whom the Christianisation of the Bulgarians proceeded apace. Although he was wooed by the Catholic Church after being baptised in 865, the pope’s refusal to grant him an independent national Patriarch ultimately convinced Boris to side with the Orthodox Church. 266 Ṭabari XXXI, 71. 267 Wilhelm Barthold, Turkestan down to the Mongol Invasion (London, 1968), 202. 268 A reasonable assumption, given the letter was written between 795 and 798. See the dis cussion on this in Uray, 1983, 403, n. 415. 269 Sachau, 1919, 21-22 contains a good summary of the relevant lists of metropolitanates. 84 265

ince of (Samar)Oand,” as does Ibn at-Tayyib (d. 1043).” However, ‘Abdisho's Order of Ecclesiastical Judgements (1315/16)” includes the fol lowing text: &|Mºoso,

|131so

coie,

|Sºae:S-so |! |\Soexº~! |Soao;

|->=5 & $oas-Jºo oso, LA-S-1 &lso. 2...aroo

ps -io/so

too co-o;9, |L51

& also. 29, Lo-Soº LA-N-a -oº-ow ~5. I

| 7 | 8

* My best reading at this point is: line 1: (S) = e^z., “Hear [illegible word; looks like Aaavaal"; line 2: *A*. “we ruled”; line 3: \;=s, “he beat down.” Nicholas Sims-Williams suggests that some of these words may be misspellings, with *A*. a scribal error for - 3\\rºx., “our petition” and \;=\; a scribal error for A=on, “you gave.” If his suggestion is correct, it renders a more intelligible reading: “Hear... our petition... you gave” (personal communication, June 11, 2009). These misspellings are entirely logical if the writer was in deed an Uyghur with minimal knowledge of written Syriac, since neither Sogdian nor Old Uyghur distinguish between /h/ and /h/, /s/ and /s/ or /t/ and /t/. Thus, as is often used for

phonetic /h/ and \, for phonetic /t/ in Christian Sogdian and Uyghur texts. Furthermore, the omission of rº in - 3\\rºx. makes perfect sense if the writer was not proficient in spoken Syriac.

* Again, my thanks to Amir Harrak for identifying and commenting on the Syriac text. 106

‫]ܦܪܨܝ ܣܗܕܐ‬ ‫ܙܥܪܛ‬321 ‫ܦܪܨܝ‬ ‫]ܢܝ ܛ‬ ‫]ܐ‬

[9 [ 11 10

‫ [ ]ܒܐ ܝ ܦܝܪܢܡܣܐܪ‬12 7. […] to the Jordan 8. […] from (Sog. čn) their blessings322 9. […] afterwards (Sog. prčy) the martyrs (Syr.) 10. […] afterwards (Sog. prčy) 11. […] quickly (Sog. žγrt) 12. […] before (Sog. pyrnms’r) These Syriac liturgical texts with Sogdian instructions give interesting in sights into the role of the two languages in the lives of priests and others who celebrated the liturgy. The texts themselves are in Syriac, indicating that they were memorized in that language by those who trained for the priesthood. The instructions, however, are in Sogdian, again demonstrating the lingua franca that was spoken by most in the Turfan Christian community, at least initially. It is also interesting to note that Syriac, not Sogdian, is generally used for standard Christian terms, such as “oil,” “altar,” “cross,” and “mar tyrs.” Syriac Texts with Multilingual Marginalia and Overwriting Nine fragments have so far been discovered containing Syriac texts fea turing marginalia or overwriting in either Sogdian script or Uyghur script.323 SyrHT 48 and 49 (T II B 11 No. 11) is a double folio from a Syriac New Testament lectionary, featuring readings from the Book of Romans: Rom. 1:24-2:6 for the First Monday and First Tuesday of the Great Fast (Lent), and Rom. 5:12-21; 7:1-7 for the Second Sunday and Second Friday of the Great Fast. In the lower margin of SyrHT 49, side 1 Nicholas Sims-Williams reads the following words written in Sogdian script, in outline form: ’yny pwsty, “This book...” This folio is the last in the sequence, so presumably this sen tence continued onto the next (lost) folio, perhaps originally reading, “This book belongs to [name]”? The first letter is the adapted letter for Sogdian /ž/, currently not included in any Syriac fonts. 322 As Nicholas Sims-Williams notes, “a particularly interesting grammatical point is the use of Syr. twbyhwn [their blessings] as a loanword with Sogd. obl. ending –y” (personal com munication, May 7, 2009). 323 All to be published in the VOHD catalogue compiled by Hunter & Dickens. 107

321

The Uyghur overwriting on side 2 of SyrHT 83 and SyrHT 84 (dis cussed in the section above) has been described and translated by Simone Raschmann as a text which was “probably a draft for an Old Turkish letter… the two fragments SyrHT 83 and 84 must have been directly stitched togeth er, when the scribe wrote the Old Turkish letter on the one side and the cur sive Syriac scribbling on the other side… the Syriac text must have been al ready damaged by abrasion when the secondary text was written down. An affiliation to the Christian community may be seen in the use of this Syriac manuscript for this Turkish letter and in the Syriac scribbling. The colour of the ink and to a certain extent the characteristics of the script may suggest that the scribe of the lines [i.e. the overwriting in broad brush strokes] on both sides might have been one and the same person.”324 Raschmann translates the text as follows: To Tängrikän Kün Tugmıš (or Togrıl) Tegin Tüm(?). Let us send as many words (as there are) in this letter. Tämür Saŋun. I, Irsik (?), wrote (it). It is eternal. I, Yu // Tomačak. If the overwriting in both Syriac and Uyghur was indeed written by the same per son (which it appears to be), then he was undoubtedly a Christian. Further more, Raschmann notes that the name Tomačak at the end of the text could be interpreted as the Christian name Toma (Syr. ‫ܬܐܘܡܐ‬, Thomas) with the Turkic diminutive suffix -čak, yielding “Little Thomas.”325 Why the Uyghur writer chose to “deface” the underlying Syriac text is unclear, but perhaps it occurred at a later time in the life of the monastery, when Syriac was less well-known by the monks. SyrHT 122 (T II B 58 No. 1a) is a fragment from the Ḥudra, the primary liturgical text of the Church of the East. Side 1 seems to be the first page326 from a Ḥudra designated as Ḥudra “H” in the hand-list of the Turfan Syriac fragments. Side 2 (which does not contain text from the Ḥudra) has writing in at least three hands; the last of which is Sogdian in Syriac script, as shown in the extract below (it is unclear if line 12 is in same hand as lines 6-11):

‫ ܒܐܘܪܚܐ ܕܢܘܗܪܐ ܘܕܒܚ ܢܘܗܪܐ ܪܕܐ‬6 ‫ ܒܪ ܢܘܗܪܐ ܐܒܘܢ ܙܗܝܐ ̈ܪܘܡܐ‬7 ‫ ܕܒܪܐ ܒܪܝܟ ܕܘܟܪܢܟ܀ ܒܪܝܟ‬8 From an article to appear soon in a Festschrift. 325 To my query about whether the partial name preserved as Yu might represent Yuḥannan (John), Simone Raschmann replied: “The problem with YW is that nothing seems to follow just these two letters. The name Yohanan (in different writings) is attested in the Old Turkish texts. But, as far as I know, not in this abbreviated form. On the other hand, /m(ä)n/ ‘I’ at the beginning is a signal for a personal name, which has to follow” (personal communication, October 1, 2009). 326 Or possibly the first page of a quire. 108

324

X....vºaos

9

rºom-o rºcorº ...rºus aco -aē, 10 &\rº ll

=ueaux -a {x.&u=l

*-ae - -ſize= |

[ -\||

1

=l

2

[All

3

Syrh.T 67–70 are glassed together.

* The letter immediately following s is partially torn off. Since it almost certainly refers to one of the seasons in the liturgical year, there are only a few options for the missing word. Based on the visible remnants of the letter and the reference to Latter Teshri in the next line,

the most logical option is rººt-aco.

” This is the most likely reconstruction, given what is visible of the bottoms of the missing letters, along with the final nun. ” The last word in this cell has been altered from ,üsrº, “Latter” to x1,xo, “Former”, leav ing the unexplained re. Based on the final —, visible at the beginning of this cell and that 128

] ‫ܒܬܫܪܝ ܐܚ[ܪܝ‬

‫[ܒܬܫܪ]ܝـ ܩܕܝܡ‬

391‫ܟܙ‬

]‫[ܠ‬

1

[3]

[in Latter Teshri]

[1]

[in Former Kanu]n

2

[2]

[in Latter Teshri]

30

in Latter Teshri

3

[31]

[in] Former [Teshri]

28

in Latter Teshri

4

[30]

[in] Former [Teshri]

27

in Latter Teshri

4

This table looks at first sight similar to those above, but the numbers in the second column do not refer to the number of days in either Former or Lat ter Teshri, which have 31 and 30 days respectively. Rather, they are from a table giving the seven possible dates for the beginning of ‫ܩܘܕܫ ܥܕܬܐ‬, Quddāsh ʿEdtā, “Hallowing of the Church” and ‫ܣܘܒܪܐ‬, Subbārā, “Annun ciation” (roughly equivalent to Advent), the last and first seasons in the Syri an liturgical year respectively. The date of the former can range from the 30th day in Former Teshri (October) to the 5th day in Latter Teshri (November) and that of the latter from the 27th day in Latter Teshri to the 3rd day in For mer Kanun (December). It follows that the numbers in the second visible column (27, 28 and 30, from the bottom up) must belong with the months in the third column and refer to the beginning of Subbārā. By counting back four weeks, the length of Quddāsh ʿEdtā, we can then reconstruct the numbers which would have been in the column immediately preceding the first column, to find the beginning of that liturgical season. The reconstruction of the figures 30 and 31 in rows 4 and 3 is confirmed by the fact that these are the only possible dates for Quddāsh ʿEdtā which are within the month of Former Teshri named in the adjacent column. The difference of 2 between rows 2 and 3 indicates the position of the leap year and thus ena bles us to reconstruct the missing numbers and month-names in rows 1 and 2. The scribal alteration of ‫ܐܚܪܝ‬, “Latter” to ‫ܩܕܝܡ‬, “Former” in the first visible column of row 3 can also be explained by the fact that this is where the month changes from Latter Teshri to Former Teshri.

immediately below, the first word must be in both cells. 391 This number has a line over it.

‫ܬܫܪܝ‬, thus indicating the month of Former Teshri

129

verso = 4 lines in Sogdian script” [Fig. 5-6b) /1/

/2/ /3/ /4/

(Éwyy?c)[” myššwyſyc (Z)-y(mt)[yc” xwſšmyc

Büy(i)éſ (9" month in the Sogdian calendar) misſiyſ(i)é” (10" month) Zimtſ(i)é (11" month) xuſ mić” (12" month)

The names of four months of the traditional Sogdian calendar (Büyić, miššūyić, Žimtić and xušmić) suggest that there may be a connection between the text on the verso and the calendrical table on the recto side.

Sogdian calendrical texts in Syriac script Text 7: n295 (T II B 46), recto and verso: 10.5 x 6.5 cm; 10 lines on recto +

1 line on verso [Fig. 5-7] This is a page of a codex in very small format. Amongst the Christian Sogdian manuscripts, such a size is characteristic of liturgical booklets in tended, presumably, for individual use.” The present text, which seems to contain an account of work carried out on various days of the month, or per haps rather predictions regarding the advisability of working on various days of the month, may have been written on a blank page at the end of such a booklet.

R1

(~~~~)

R2

(m)[y](0y).” [...]n [ (n)[...](r)[“. I(r)a (qt)[’ “](w.......)

R3 R4

R6

stm (p)tnym (x)n: s’rtyny (xw')[ ]

R7

frnxſw]nty (w)[b't!”

R5

|

* Lower right corner of page, rounded and darkened; side margin = 1.4–1.6 cm; lower margin = 1.0 cm.

* The reading of this word is very uncertain. ” This is the form used in the Manichaean texts. The texts from Mt. Mugh call this month tymych, as discussed in Panaino (1990), p. 665.

* * ” *

There is probably a diacritic dot under z. Presumably with metathesis for xSwmyc. cf. Sims-Williams (1995), p. 258a. Bold type in Sogdian texts indicates rubrics. 130

R8

dtsy r(w)c(y m)[yöy]

R9 R10

(yc’’)r(q)| ny [•](“ ”)[ rwcy (m)yöy.

V1

| |

rest blank

“On the day [...-rööl: ... un-(?)... work(?), "so that(?) ... he might(?) bring a coarse(?) implement(?) to the khan(?) (who) ... He/it(?) ... [will be](?) fortunate.

"On the day dhatsi-röö. No work(?) ... "On the day ...-röð; (here the text breaks off unfinished).”

R3. The restoration of [](r)a “work” is supported by the occurrence of this Word in R9.

R5. On stn see the note to Text 9 (n354), line 5. The following (p)tnym is unfortunately obscure. One or more words so spelled are attested (in the plural form ptnymt) as a translation of Syriac ºrº-o in the sense “gear,

implements” and as the second element of two Manichaean Sogdian compounds: jn-ptnym “advisor" and tryyy-ptnym, an epithet of “hands” with a negative connotation.” Finally, (x)n could represent

trappings,

the Turkish title khan, but the reading is quite uncertain. R6–7. If tyny in R6 is 3 sg. imperfect “introduced, brought” the obvious res

toration in R7 will be frnxſw]nty (w)ſm't] “[he/it was] fortunate”. But it seems equally possible to interprettyny as 3 sg. optative (for *tynyy) and

to restore a 3 sg. subjunctive frnxſw]nty (w)[b't], giving the sense “[he/it will be] fortunate” or “[may he/it be] fortunate”. R8. For rwc “day”, cf. Text 10 (SyrhT 67), line 6. The day specified here is

dhatsi rôé, the 8", 15" and 23" day of the month in the traditional Sog dian calendar. Two other days of the month were presumably named in R1 and R10, but they are unfortunately illegible.

” Or (w)[m't]?

" Sims-Williams (1985), p. 179. " Gershevitch (1985), pp. 33–39. “Sharply-inclined” according to Gershevitch (1985), pp. 35–36, “swiftly-grabbing” ac cording to Sundermann (1992), p. 134.

402

131

Text 8: n288 (T II B 62 + C93 = T III B 61), recto: 13.5 x 8.5 cm; 11 lines; verso blank [Fig. 5-8] This text is written on one side of a sheet made by gluing together two, in parts even three, layers of paper. The other side is blank. Although poorly preserved, it has proved crucial to the understanding of the calendrical tables which follow (Texts 9–13), since it contains instructions for consulting such tables. The key to the reconstruction and understanding of this text is the se quence of numerals mentioned in it: 28, 12 and 19. Lines 1–4 contain instruc tions for calculating the position of the year within the 28-year solar cycle. The procedure described is as follows: Start with the number of the Seleucid year, divide by 28, and take the remainder. Lines 5–8 contain instructions for calculating the position of the year in the 19-year lunar cycle. In this case, the procedure is to add 12 to the number of the Seleucid year,403 to divide by 19, and to take the remainder. Exactly the same procedure is described by Elias of Nisibis, in the text accompanying his table for calculating the beginning of Lent: Subtract the years of Alexander 28 (by) 28, and what remains, enter with it the line of 28 ... Then add 12 years to the years of Alexander and subtract the total 19 (by) 19, and what remains, enter with it the line of 19 ... Then proceed with the remainder of the 19 as far as the remainder of the 28, and the number which you find opposite both numbers, if it is in black ink, then the Monday of the Fast falls in Shebaṭ, and if it is in red, then the Monday of the Fast (falls) in Adar.404

The same calculations are described in the Introduction to the printed text of the Ḥudra, the primary liturgical text of the Church of the East;405 there, however, the resulting figures are used to consult two separate tables rather than a single table of 28 x 19 (= 532) cells, such as the table of Elias. Our Sogdian text states that one should place a “line” (Sogdian wytq) first on the axis of 28 and then on the axis of 19. Evidently the point of intersection indi cates the required date. The implication that the text describes the procedure for consulting a 28 x 19 matrix receives strong support from the associated fragments of calendrical tables (Texts 9–13 below), most of which can now be seen to belong to tables of exactly this type.

“The purpose of adding 12 is to reconcile the Seleucid year count with the Alexandrian cycle” (SS). 404 Chabot (1909), p. 124; Chabot (1910), p. 139. 405 Darmo (1960), pp. 13–14, especially p. 13, r. col., bottom 12ll; p. 14, r. col., ll. 1–11. 132 403

1O

[q](m)y qtyrb(y)| qd'm-zyy sty. 'I 'stwystd(y) 'Śtwyst(q)[y bys' we cf.........| p(rxst)x't Wyta wdy [wst nw(ts “)dy Wyta-'y pyd'[r pcm'ry cwpr()dw’ts p(c)[m'r....... nwt.sqy nwt.sqy bys ()w'c clf.................. prxst x’t] (w)yta wdy 'wst. "I m(yw)" srdy(0)šryq(dym)[m'x (pc)m'rm't [

“[If you desire to know [the ...], in which position it is, [take the number of the year, subtract] 28 (and again) 28 (as many times as possible). [However many

... "may be left (over), put] the line there. Concerning the line of 19 ...: To (lit. over) the number [of the year add the] nuſmber] 12 ... subtract [19] (and again) 19 (as many times as possible). How

ever many [... may be left over] ..."put the line there. “[The month] Former Teshri of the tiger year ... the number (of the year of the Greeks) was ... [Our] Lord ...”

Line 1. The verbs are probably 2 sg. optative: “[if you des]ire that you may know”. Virtually identical phrases are used to introduce the explanations of the calendrical tables in the text translated by Dean, as well as in the

Syriac “Book of Medicines”.” Line 2. The compound qd'm-zyy probably consists of qā’m “which? what?” and zy “earth, ground”, plus the suffix -y which turns the compound into an adjective, literally: “having what ground? in which position?” Line 3. Sogdian has two ways of expressing a distributive sense: by repeti

tion, as in nym nym “half-and-half”,” or by use of the suffix -ky, as in zrkyy “by the thousands”." Here in stwystay stwystay “28 (and again) 28” the two methods are combined. The same construction is probably

attested in lines 6–7: Inwtsqyl nwt.sqy “19 (and again) 19°. Since both ex * The rest of the line left blank? Hardly ms. Cited above at the end of the Introduction.

* Gershevitch (1954), $1633. "" Gershevitch (1985), pp. 27–29. 133

amples are followed at a distance of one line by the words wytq wdy, it does not seem too fanciful to assume that the two passages are parallel, hence the restorations [bysʾ wʾc cʾf] in line 3, ʾ[wst] in line 4 and [prxsʾt xʾt] in line 7. The literal meaning of bysʾ wʾc (2 sg. imperative) is “send away, let out”. In a mathematical context this must mean “take away, subtract”. The Sogdian text thus expresses division as a process of repeated sub traction, as does Elias, who uses the Syriac verb ‫ܢܦܩ‬, lit. “go out”, hence “cast out, subtract” with repeated numerals: “28 (by) 28”, “19 (by) 19”. Line 4. Forms such as prxsʾt xʾt (subjunctive + conditional particle xʾt) have recently been discussed by Yoshida,411 who points out that they are re stricted to late Sogdian texts whose syntax shows the influence of Uy ghur Turkish. The Syriac equivalent in the text of Elias is ‫ܦܐܫ‬, “re mains”. The word wytq, which also occurs in lines 5 (with oblique case ending -ʾy) and 8, is otherwise unknown. Etymologically, it may be un derstood as a diminutive of wītē “cord, rope” (in Sogdian script wytʾk, Yaghnobi wīta),412 hence a “string” or “line”. It seems to apply both to a row or a column of figures (“line of 19 ...”), in which sense it corre sponds to Elias’ use of the Syriac term ‫ܣܘܪܛܐ‬, “line”, and to the hori zontal and vertical lines or markers whose point of intersection deter mines the required date. Lines 9–11. The reference to a “tiger year” (the third year in every cycle of twelve years according to the Chinese and Central Asian animal cycle) suggests that this part of the text applies the method of calculation de scribed to a specific year. Calendrical tables with Sogdian on the reverse Five fragments from Turfan have remnants of calendrical tables in Syriac script on one side and (with one exception, where the reverse is blank) Sog dian texts in either Sogdian or Syriac script on the other side.413

Yoshida (2009), pp. 281–282. See Livšic (1962), p. 156. 413 For convenience, the calendrical tables will be considered the recto side of each frag ment. Translations of each table with Arabic numerals are given in left-to-right format, as are the Easter and Lenten tables at the end of the article, in contrast to the Syriac text, where the original right-to-left format is obviously maintained. 134 411 412

Text 9: n354 (T II B 66 No. 48a): 14.5 x 12.3 cm recto = 9 rows x 8 columns; cells drawn free-hand in red and black; one in

distinct line in Manichaean script in the lower margin" [Fig. 5-9a) l

Cº a

"Al re-all" | A | Ivel "an

[...] |

a|

1|

[x,]

2

-\e

\º.

[A2] | [a]

--->

C\ ^

cro

4

[a]→ | -\

->

Nº.

-\

5

3

-->

-Sea |

=

C\s

-Sea

-->

C\s

6

rº

Jºna |

r
]

~ || ||-rº’s |

—" |

cm a

** |

[a]→ | < |

y

Jº-e

-\

\-e

=|

a |

cna |

l

3.

* |

\,

a |

Nº.

=|

2

rº's

-\

=|

→

al-A] | 3

\ | [-sel

4

* Sundermann (1997), p. 105, line 4, where 'stm occurs in a context parallel to 'stmp in Yo shida (2000), p. 13, line 110. The proposal in Yoshida (2008), p. 59 to read rxn’m in place of 'stm is hardly justified.

* Gershevitch (1954), $157; Yoshida (2000), pp. 13 (line 110), 83. On the late Sogdian development of [mb] to [m] see Gershevitch (1954), $453.

* See Sims-Williams (1985), pp. 106–107, with n. 67. 137

[a]

-Se

a

**

ve

6

[on] | \|->| | [a]—a

| 27?

| 202

ſ18/ | 11

25 24

/20/ || 13/

/5/

/20/

/25/

ſ4/

ſ11/

7

ſo/

ſo)

27?

| 13

18

4

25

II

|| || 7

|| 3

24

|| 1 ()

16

|| 2

23

| 16.2

242

| 1()

5.

17

| I ()

232

9

2

16

| 9

|| 2

29

22

|| 8

|| 29

|| 152 | 8?

/20/ || 13/ ||27/ | 20

| 6

|| 27

| 13

| 6?

||27/ || 13/

| 192

| 5?

||26/ | | 12/

/22/ | 152

/19/ | | 12/ | [5/

| | 19/

ſj/

26?

222 || 15/

Again, this fragment can be located in the Lenten table in the Appendix (columns 8–17, rows 11–17). As noted below, SyrhT 273 may come from the same original table. verso = 8 lines of Sogdian in Syriac script [Fig. 5-10b) On the other side of the calendrical table is a Sogdian text which appears to be concerned with a calendrical calculation, though its purpose is not clear. Two occurrences of a verb meaning “(it was) written” and (probably) one of the word for “scribe” suggest that it may be a colophon, in which the dates when the scribe began and finished writing the manuscript might have been mentioned.

|(ºwy)st(* n)'watſ | b]?'wt dwy(s)t'St(c)| | plcm'ry prw (s)'q q(wn)'ſ | p](c)r(w d)pyd(* xw) : npxšt(y) qty’ſ |(tn)dſ"]n'(y’n)wwyst(s)Yt(y’sw)ryq

* Quite uncertain. Not dwyst. * Or (r)pyd. Wrongly pointed for dpyr? 138

|

6

|(tw: )d(yny) rvc(y) & (m')t lºst & npxšt(y) py](d)'r

“... twenty-...(?) ... increases, two hundred and eighteen ... "with the reckoning he(?) put(?) the number ... he is the scribe(?) instead of ... It was written ... on

the 29" day of the month (by) the Syrian "ſcalendar] ... (The day) dhéné-röö. There was ... [It was] written ... because of...”

Line 1. The first word may be a compound ending in -wyst “20,” i.e. a num ber between 21 and 29. It does not seem likely that it can be read dwyst

“200.” The following (n) watſ appears to be the beginning of an otherwise unknown word.

Line 2. The spelling 'Śtc “18° stands for [aštats], cf. pnce [pājats] “15”. Other attested spellings in Syriac script are Štts [Štats] (in U 7252, side A, col.

1, line 20),” and Šts [štas].” Line 3. The noun pcm'r or ptám'r—cf. also Text 8 (n.288), lines 6 and 10– derives from the verb pcmr-, ptámr- “to consider, reckon” and can gener ally be translated as “reckoning” or “number”. In the Sogdian version of the Parable of the Minas (Luke 19:12-27), pcm'r translates Syriac mny as a unit of currency, no doubt as a calque based on the meaning of the un derlying root mn “to count”. As for sq, this too can usually be translated as “number” and is virtually synonymous with pcm'r, as is clear for in stance from the dyadic expression pww.sk pww ptsm'r “countless, innu

merable”.” However, it is possible that one or both of these words may have a more specific sense in a mathematical context such as this. Finally, qwn may be either 2 sg. imperative “make, put” or 3 sg. imperfect “(he) made, put”. Line 4. Since dpyd or rpyd is unknown, it seems likely that it is a mispointed form for dpyr “scribe”.

Line 5. The phrase (n)wwyst (s)Ytty sw)ryq ... “on the 29" day of the month (by) the Syrian ſcalendar]” suggests that the preceding [...](tn)aſºln (y) might be a contrasting ethnic adjective with the Syriac suffix -āyā (spelled -y in Sogdian fashion rather than -y as in Syriac). However, it is difficult to find a plausible restoration. * An unpublished fragment discussed by Dickens (2009), pp. 30–32. * Thus correctly read in Müller (1913), p. 41, line 3, contra Sundermann (1974), p. 231. * Gershevitch (1954), $1164. 139

Line 6. In Sogdian the word rwo “day” is exclusively used with the traditional names of the 30 days of the month, to which it is suffixed. There is virtu ally no doubt that the preceding word here should be read dyny, the name

of the 24" day, since no other day-name is compatible with the traces. However, it is not clear whether the text indicates a synchronism between the 24" day (of a Sogdian month) and the previously-mentioned 29th day (of a Syrian month).

Text 11: SyrhT 68 (T II B 22 No. 2): 4.1 x 3.1 cm

recto = 4 rows x 2 columns; cells drawn free-hand in red [Fig. 5-11a) l

\-e

3).” In contrast, the deceased commemorated by Gravestone 2 was more than just " CHWOLSON, 1890, No 11,”; No 19,'; No 21,'; No 28; No 34,”; No 48,”; CHWOLSON, 1897, No 46,'; No 74; No.243; KOKOBIOB, 1909, No 1; No 2; DZUMAGULOV, 1968,477–478. * KOKOBLIOB, 1906, No 11. * NIU, 2006, 220-222. *" GENG, 2006, 248-250; LIEUETAL, 2012, B19, B20, B21.

* See references to Christ as the cornerstone rejected by the builders in Matt. 21:42; Mark 12:10; Luke 20:17; Acts 4:11; I Pet. 4:2-8.

* CHWOLSON, 1897, 19.

* e.g. CHWOLSON, 1890, No 89. * JDKyMATyſIOB, 1971, 98. By contrast, SAUVAGET, 1950, 35 and RASONYI, 1953, 341 both suggest that the -täy element in names represents the Turkic word for “a one- or two year-old foal” (CLAUSON, 1972, 566), but this seems unlikely in this case and that of Grave stone 5 below.

* The name Mangu is spelled variously in the corpus (a Sena-o, as Sena-o, a Senso,

as sº-o): CHWOLSON, 1890, No 17; Nº. 49; Nº. 56,"; No 69; Nº. 84; No 89; Nº. 111; Nº. VIII; CHWOLSON, 1897, No 22: No 117; No 122; No 146; No 163; No 258; No 280; KLEIN, 2000, No

17. The name Tāś is invariably spelled +-A. CHWOLSON, 1890, No 49; No 49,'; No V; CHWOLSON, 1897, No 22; No 122; No 146; No 163; No 243; No 248; No 263 (the occurrence of x-rºw in CHWOLSON, 1890, No VIII may be a misreading). See also RYBATZKI, 2004, 279 280, 283-284.

* CHWOLSON, 1890, No 27. *" CHWOLSON, 1897, No 159. 252

a “musician,” as Radloff translated the Turkic word qobuzchi. He was specif ically the player of a qobuz, a two-stringed fiddle (or more properly, bowed lute) played with a horsehair bow, traditionally popular amongst the more nomadic Kirghiz, Kazakh and Karakalpak peoples of Central Asia and asso ciated with the recitation of oral epics and shamanic rituals. Interestingly, the qobuz is mentioned in another Turkic Christian text, an Uyghur wedding blessing from Turfan written in Syriac script and published by Peter Zieme,818 where we find the following passage, speaking of the bride and groom: “As extraordinarily good friends and excellent comrades, fitting together like glue and wood, may they constantly help each other. As the qobuz [fiddle] and the gičak [spike fiddle] play together, as the čïmquq [cymbals?] and the čïngïrčaq [handbells?] sound together, may their relatives by marriage work together, and may there be eating, drinking and rejoicing!” When I spoke on this text at a conference several years ago in the United Kingdom, I was informed by Saida Daukeyeva, at that time an ethnomusicol ogy doctoral student from Kazakhstan, that a qobuz and a gičak would not normally be played together, which led me to question the wisdom of the au thor of the wedding blessing.819 However, when I mentioned this another time that I was speaking about Christian texts from Central Asia, someone commented that this was in fact a perfect description of marriage (and even more so in-law relationships, as the text discusses), if two instruments that were not normally played together had to learn how to harmonize with each other! There is a strong spiritual dimension to qobuz playing, noted frequently in 19th and 20th century accounts of shamanic rituals involving the instrument; “Belief in the magic powers of the qobyz as offering protection from evil and misfortune, as a means of maintaining equilibrium in the universe, and as a medium between the human and spiritual worlds permeated the original con text of its performance.”820 We have no idea whether the qobuzchi men tioned on our gravestone used his talents in a Christian context, whether play ing in some sort of capacity in gatherings of the Christian community or keeping busy as a performer at weddings (still the main source of income for Central Asian musicians), but he was obviously well known enough as a mu sician to be commemorated as such on his gravestone.

ZIEME, 1981. For an excellent introductory article on the qobuz, see DAUKEYEVA, 2012, available at https://soas.academia.edu/SaidaDaukeyeva.820 DAUKEYEVA, 2012, 189. 253 818 819

Gravestone 3 [Fig. 10-3]

Location: Formerly in the Tajikistan National Museum, Dushanbe, Tajiki stan: Item BP-201/5. Now in the Museum of Ancient Panjikent (Panjikent, Tajikistan), where it was brought for safe-keeping as a result of the Dushanbe Museum being ransacked for valuables during the Tajikistan Civil War

(1992-97).” Dimensions: 29 x 23 cm (thickness measurement not available) Publication: Chwolson, 1897, No 77 Text and Translation:

*~~&A- ºr= |

rºaco rºw evea-2 &\rºarºia), rºamirº èux. 3 823 . crow - D CU) cro -º-V 4 rºus x -º ºn 5 rºx axe coast=o cova 6

In the year one thousand six hundred twenty six / 1314/15 CE/. It was the year of the Hare, in Turkic “tavişghan. ” This is the grave of Denha, the head of the church, the son of Marqos the priest. Commentary. Like Gravestone 2, the cross on Gravestone 3 has three “pearls” on each

end-piece. There are at least three spelling errors in the date formula. The ini tial word, missing the nun (3), should be corrected to &ux=, “in the year”;

&\rºarºoy should be corrected to Aurºaia.A., “in Turkic” and -rºxa-\, is usually spelled - rºax=-\, Turkic for “hare,” on the gravestones. Also of note is the use of the masculine form of Syriac numbers, where the feminine form would be correct, here (~&\x., “six”) and on Gravestones 4 (as, “one” and 6 (~x.è, “nine”); this error is explained by the fact that Turkic lan

guages do not have grammatical gender.” The date 1626 SE corresponds to * Alexei Savchenko, personal correspondence, June 6, 2013.

* See the discussion under Gravestone 4 below regarding the typical misspelling of the word “hundred” as reco, rather than the correct rºrºco.

* Here and on Gravestones 4-8, the phrase aniae anon, “this is the grave of does not fol low standard Syriac grammar, since the name that follows is not preceded by the particle a in order to correctly indicate possession. For a more general description of ways in which these inscriptions depart from expected Syriac orthography, see KLEIN, 2002.

* The numbers must agree with the feminine noun Aux, “year.” Regarding errors on the gravestones related to grammatical gender, see KLEIN, 2002. 254

1314/15 CE. “The year of the Hare” is given in both Syriac (~-lii~) and

Turkic (-rºx *-A), as on a number of the gravestones in this corpus. As be fore, we can narrow down the date to sometime between 31 January, 1315 (beginning of the year of the Hare) and 30 September, 1315 (end of SE 1626).

The Syriac name ºx, Denha (“manifestation, Epiphany”) is very

common in the corpus, while coaska, Marqos is somewhat less so.” Whereas his father Marqos was a priest, Denha is described as Rºxas x,y, “the head of the church,” a term that is found on another inscription in the Semirechye corpus (where it designates both the deceased and his father as rºus r.),” as well as Syriac memorial inscriptions dating from the 8th

12" centuries in the ruins of the Syrian Orthodox Church of Mar Addai in the village of Hesterek in the Tur ‘Abdin region (modern-day Mardin province,

Turkey).” Andrew Palmer has interpreted this word as equivalent to the English term “rector,” representing here “the senior member of a college of

three or four priests.” Perhaps this position in the Central Asian Christian community can be contrasted with that of rº-assy %, “the head of charity,”

found on another gravestone in the Tashkent Museum,” indicating a divi sion of labour between clerics responsible for leadership of local congrega tions and those who administered alms to the poor and needy. Gravestone 4 [Fig. 10–4]

Location: Tashkent Museum: Inventory No 312\3. Dimensions: 30 x 21.5 x 10 cm

Publication: Klein, 2000, No 41 (Pl. 71)

* Denha: CHWOLSON, 1890, No 3: No 75,”; CHWOLSON, 1897, No 15: No 45; No. 61; No 74; No 123, No 160; No 283; No 290; No 305; No 308; KLEIN, 2000, No 12; Marqos: CHWOLSON, 1897, No 221; No 236; No. 318.

* JDKYMATYIOB, 1987, 44-45: ca, Nias covae also re-air reach -ière Aux= rºws -- ~~\ºrº cove rºtaxi, “In the year 1602, it was (the year of) the Hare. This is the grave of Giwargis (George), the head of the church, son of Anton, the head of the church.”

*' POGNON, 1907, 192-197 (No 96, 1.3; No 97, Il. 2, 8; No 99, Il. 2, 7; Nº. 100, l. 3; No. 101, 1. 3, 5; No 102, l. 2; No 103, 1.4; No 106, l. 5; No 107, I. 6). These inscriptions are dated 1083 SE (771/72 CE) 1414 SE (1102/03 CE), 1287 SE (975/76 CE), 1477 SE (1165/66 CE), 1308 SE (996/97 CE), 1353 SE (1041/42 CE), 1307 SE (995/96 CE), 1385 SE (1073/74 CE) and 1224 SE (912/13 CE). See also PALMER, 1987, 64.

* PALMER, 1990, 220-221. My thanks to Andrew Palmer for alerting me to the existence of these inscriptions (personal correspondence, June 2, 2014).

* DICKENS, 2009, 38-40. 255

Text and Translation:

)‫ܒܫܢܬ ܐܠܦ ܫܬܡܐ(ܐ‬ ‫ܘܬܠܬܝܢ ܚܕ ܗܘܐ ܫܢܬ‬ ‫ܩܘܦܐ ܗܢܐ‬ ‫ܩܒܪܗ‬ ‫ܐܪܣܠܐܢ‬ ‫ܡܗܝܡܢܐ‬

1 2 3 4 5 6

In the year one thousand six hundred and thirty one [1319/20 CE]. It was the year of the Monkey. This is the grave of Arslan the believer. Commentary: In his survey of the gravestones currently in the Tashkent Museum, Mi nasyants notes that two gravestones with Syriac inscriptions were uncovered at the beginning of the 20th century in Tashkent, in the courtyard of Colonel S. D. Asfendiarova on Starogospitalnoy Street. Since these would not have been included in the publications of either Chwolson or Kokovtsov, one of them may be this stone (although there are four other candidates: Grave stones 8-10 below and Gravestone No. 3 from my earlier publication830). The upper and two side arms of the cross have “Maltese” cross ends, while the lower arm has the three “pearls” seen on many of the crosses in the corpus. The date 1631 SE corresponds to 1319/20 CE. Combining this with the reference to the year of the Monkey allows us to place the date of death sometime between 31 January, 1320 (beginning of the year of the Monkey) and 30 September, 1320 (end of 1631 SE). Klein reads the number 600 as the correctly spelled ‫ܫܬܡܐܐ‬, but it might also be the orthographic variant ‫ ܫܬܡܐ‬frequently found on these stones (e.g. Gravestones 3 and 5); for yet another variant spelling, see Gravestone 6 below. The name, ‫ܐܪܣܠܐܢ‬, Arslan (Turkic for “lion”) is an exceedingly popular name in the gravestone corpus.831 On this stone, the standard description of non-cleric males is used: ‫ܡܗܝܡܢܐ‬, “believer” (see also gravestones 5 and 6 below).

DICKENS, 2009, 36-38. CHWOLSON, 1890, № 8; № 9; № 11,4; № 34; №36; 42,3; № 48,4; № 75; CHWOLSON, 1897, № 22; № 45; № 58; № 87; № 93; № 107; № 132; № 166; № 232; KLEIN, 2000, № 14. Arslan is often compounded with other names. See also KLEIN & TABALDIEV, 2009, 88; RYBATZKI, 2004, 275. 256 830

831

Gravestone 5 [Fig. 10–5] Location: Tashkent Museum: Inventory No 312\4. Dimensions: 27.5 x 22.5 x 7 cm

Publication: XBoIEcoH, 1895, No 9; Chwolson, 1897, No 105 (image in Tao. II) Text and Translation:

*Are Aux– 1 rº-oëw. 2 * A*A* 3

A.(*) **saia, 4 * ~acn cove. 5 covar, alon 6

rº-º-on-o Saiarº 7 [lege coèt-o] covévao 8

- \lav 9 AA, x** 10 * Il. 3, 5 are inscribed upside down on the lower part of the stone In the year one thousand six hundred, 1638 / 1326/27 CE/, it was the Turkic year of the Tiger.” This is the grave of Urug the believer and his daughter

Tuz-tāy the compassionate. Commentary.

As Chwolson noted in his original reading of this stone, the order of the lines is not immediately clear, due to two lines being written upside down on the lower part of the stone. Thus, l. 1 is above the very simple cross; 1. 2 is to

the far left of the cross (above 1.4); l. 3 is the fifth line below the cross (up side-down); l. 4 is immediately to the left of the cross (below l. 2); l. 5 is the fourth line below the cross (upside-down); l. 6 is immediately to the right of the cross (above 1. 7); l. 7 is on the far left of the cross (below 1. 6); 1.8 is the first line below the cross; 1.9 is the second line below the cross; and 1. 10 is the third line below the cross.

The inscription begins with the words one thousand six hundred spelled out (note the non-standard “phonetic” spelling of the word A.Arº). For some reason, the scribe then switched to the system of using letters to represent

* Or possibly rºss-ic A, * Underlined text is in Turkic. 257

numbers,” 1638 SE corresponds to 1326/27 CE. Unlike Gravestones 3 and 6, which give the Turkic animal-name using Syriac phrases – A rºarºoy -rºxa-A, “in Turkic tavišghan” or coirºa &urºaia.A, rºom “this is bars in Turkic” – Gravestone 5 uses a Turkic phrase cova A.(re) ****ay

turkéa

yil bars, ending in the Syriac past tense copula reacp, yielding “it was the Turkic year of the Leopard.” Chwolson’s reading of \,(~), “year” differs from the usual way of spelling this common Turkic word in Syriac script (cf. \,, on Gravestone 2), but it is hard to tell from the image if indeed there is an initial aleph. As Chwolson notes, the dual dating system of 1638 SE and the “year of the Tiger” allows us to narrow the date down to between 1 Octo ber, 1326 (beginning of 1638 SE) and 30 January 1327 (end of the year of the Tiger). This gravestone seems to commemorate a father and his daughter; the name of the former, Saiarº, Urug, is Turkic for “seed” (and by extension “progeny”). Chwolson rightly notes that the word cniève, “after him” is an error, correcting it to coète, “his daughter”; this word is preceded by the let ter a, “and,” although the loop seems to double as part of the final cn on 1.

6.” Chwolson was unsure whether to read the second name on 1.9 as

r^\ay or ~\,\ay; I would suggest -Avvav, Tuz-täy, Turkic for “like Salt.” The ending -täy, “like” is commonly used in Turkic names (as seen in Grave stone 2 above) and “like salt” would be an appropriate name for a Christian, calling to mind the phrase from the Sermon on the Mount, “You are the salt

of the earth.” Curiously, although not common in the gravestone corpus, Urug seems to

be a name used by both males and females.” Thus, this stone uses rºsa.cn-o, the male term for “believer,” but the female equivalent

~&u=n,n-, is used on the only other example in Chwolson's works.” The third example from the corpus, found in Kokovtsov's works, is probably

male, as the double name *o-or-A

Saiarº suggests; *a-or-A, Temur,

* See also CHWOLSON, 1897, Nº. 36, No 48.

* Chwolson suggests that these lines should be translated as “the believers Urug and his daughter Tuzta” but the word rºy-a,cn-o, “believer” is lacking the plural Seyame marker. * Matt. 5:13. * RASONYI & BASKI, 2007, 821-822 does not add any information on gender of the name, beyond the gravestone data discussed here. My thanks for this information to Peter Zieme, who suggests that the name should indeed be male (personal correspondence, June 9, 2014). * CHWOLSON, 1890, No 50: -ēusa.cn-n -S ovarº. An image of the stone can be found in JDKyMATyJIOB, 1987, 119. 258

“iron” is typically a masculine name.” Tuz is slightly more common than Urug in the corpus." Chwolson considered the final line as incomprehensi ble, but I propose to read it as a modifier, describing Tuz-täy as \,\, xist,

which I understand to be a transliteration of Persian Jº, rahm-dil." “compassionate” (still used as an adjective in various modern languages, in cluding Urdu and Uzbek, particularly in translating the attribute of God found

in the phrase -), ar-rahim, “the Merciful” from the Muslim Bismillah for mula). This would not be unusual for the gravestone corpus, which has other Persian loan-words in it, a reflection of the inroads that Persian had made in

Central Asia in the previous centuries.” Gravestone 6 [Fig. 10–6]

Location: Tashkent State University, Faculty of History, Department of Ar chaeology. Dimensions: 26 cm x 20 cm (thickness measurement not available) Publication: Klein, 2000, No 11 (Pl. 41) Text and Translation:

**[-o]&\x. Arº èux = 1

rºoco r^x & eºs =ºrº 2 rºop rºsa, Aux. 3

coirºa Aurºaia.A., 4 oxa-co covar, alon 5 rºm-ason-o 6

In the year one thousand six hundred forty-nine / 1337/38 CE). It was the year of the Tiger; this is “bars” in Turkic. This is the grave of Hindu the be liever.

839

KOKOBLIOB, 1906, No 10: there are no other words on this stone other than

Saiare

*o-or-\,.

* CHWOLSON, 1890, No 80,'; CHWOLSON, 1897, No 86; Nº. 94; No 177; Nº. 239. The gender of this name is indicated by its typical combination with female names and/or titles like >\,\,: sa\,-a- and rºx.rº. However, the gender of some instances of the name is unclear,

due to its combination with typically male names like rºsya. * In this compound word, the first element ~ is of course Arabic.

* A good example can be found on one of the gravestones published in DICKENS, 2009, 28 32: *rºcocne carº (ispah-salār), representing Persian Su-3-, “military leader” or “com mander-in-chief.”

259

Commentary: As Minasyants notes, this gravestone was originally found in 1919 at the village of Bir-bulak (roughly 30 km south of Bishkek), which explains why it was not published by either Chwolson or Kokovtsov.843 The ends of all four arms of the cross are Maltese-style. Klein reads the last number in the date as ‫“ ܫܬ‬six” but it is clearly ‫ܬܫܥܐ‬, “nine”; 1649 SE corresponds to 1337/38 CE. Factoring in the reference to the year of the Tiger gives a date between 31 January, 1338 (the beginning of the year of the Tiger) and 30 September, 1338 (the end of 1649 SE). Again, the animal-cycle year is given in both Syr iac and Turkic.844 The name ‫ܗܝܢܕܘ‬, Hindu deserves special comment. It is found (along with the more common spelling ‫ )ܗܢܕܘ‬on several gravestones from Yeti Su845 and occurs in Chinese on a gravestone from Yangzhou of “Elizabeth the wife of Xindu from Dadu (Peking).”846 Syriac ‫ܗܢܕܘ‬, from Sanskrit सिन्ध, refers to the Indus River and, by extension, the country of India.847 It is not a common name in Syriac; apart from the gravestone corpus, most of its few occurrences seem to date from after the withdrawal of the Church of the East into northern Mesopotamia in the wake of Timur’s invasion of Iraq in the late 14th century. Thus, two deacons of the Church of the East named “Hendi” or “Hindi” are recorded ca. 1572 and ca. 1787.848 More significantly, two patri archs of the short-lived Diyarbakir Line (or Amid Patriarchate) of the Uniate Chaldean Church were named Lazar Hindi (Joseph IV, 1757-96) and Augus tine Hindi (Joseph V, 1802-27).849 Indeed, the family name Hindi is still found in the Middle East, especially amongst Muslims, usually indicating ancestors who either came from India or were involved in trade there. As a personal name in Arabic, Hind (‫ )هند‬is female, but the Syriac name seems to be always used for males. The name apparently has a long history in the Middle East, occurring on “seven incantation bowls [which] all name the

МИНАСЯНЦ, 2013, 622, citing МАССОН, 1978, 53. Note the variation in spelling Turkic bars, “leopard” between ‫ ܦܪܣ‬on Gravestone 3 and ‫ ܦܐܪܣ‬on this stone. 845 CHWOLSON, 1890, № 50,9; № II; CHWOLSON, 1897, № 114; № 120; № 145; № 146; № 192. 846 GENG, 2006, 255; LIEUETAL, 2012, 171-174. 847 PAYNESMITH, 1879-1901, Vol. I, col. 1026. 848 WILMSHURST, 2000, 70, 159. 849 WILMSHURST, 2011, 332-333. 260 843 844

same male client, one Mahperoz son of Hindo,” (mpyrwz br hyndw); the Per sian name Mahperoz suggests a date during the Sassanid era (224-651).850 The Central Asian occurrences of this name are not restricted to the gravestone corpus however; a bilingual Sino-Mongolian inscription dating from 1362, during the reign of the last Yuan emperor, Toghan-Temür (1333 1370), is dedicated to “His Excellency Hsin-tu (Hindu)” (忻都). In recogni tion of his son Oron’s service to the Mongols, Hindu was posthumously granted the title of “prince.” It is clear from both the Chinese and Mongolian text that Hindu’s family were not Mongols, but rather ethnic Uighurs who served in the Mongol administration after having previously served the Ïduq Qut, the ruler of the Uighur Kingdom of Qocho, based in Turfan, one of the locations where we have abundant evidence of a strong Christian presence.851 Geng also suggests that the Hindu mentioned in the Yangzhou stone could possibly be identified with Xindu (Pinyin equivalent to Wade-Giles Hsin-tu) the son of Dashiman (d. 1317), a Qarluq Turk who served as a high official under four successive Mongol emperors, beginning with Kublai Khan (1260 1294). Dashiman’s son Xindu served as general commandant of Shangdu un der the emperor Ayurparibhadra (1311-1320).852 The Qarluqs were almost certainly the Turks who converted to Christianity in the late 8th century and received a metropolitan bishop from Patriarch Timothy I (780-823),853 so it is not unreasonable to conjecture that Dashiman and his son Xindu/Hindu were Turkic Christians.854 How can we connect all this onomastic data? Contra Mingana, who sug gested that ‫ ܣܐܙܝܟ ܗܝܢܕܘ‬found on two gravestones855 was a reference to “Sāzīk the Indian” and evidence of “constant intercourse between the differ ent Christian peoples of Central Asia and the Far East,”856 it seems likely that the name ‫ ܗܝܢܕܘ‬originated at the latest in Sassanian times as an indica

HUNTER, 2002, 259, 261, 271, 273. I am grateful to the following members of the Hugoye discussion group for information I have incorporated into this discussion: Thomas Carlson, Sergey Minov and Salam Rassi (personal correspondence, August 19-21, Sept. 3, 2013). 851 CLEAVES, 1949, 16-20, 24-27, 30-38, 83-94. 852 GENG, 2006, 253-254. 853 See DICKENS, 2010 [See Chapter 3 in this volume]. 854 This Dashiman appears to be different from the Christian Dašman mentioned in EN DICOTT-WEST, 1989, 135-138, who is described as a Kereyid (Kerait) Mongol who died in 1304. 855 CHWOLSON, 1897, № 145 & 146. 856 MINGANA, 1925, 335. In contrast to Mingana’s assertions that the gravestones give evi dence of a multi-ethnic cosmopolitanism, it is clear from the names on the stones that the vast majority of the Christian community were Turkic. 261

850

tion of some form of connection with India, presumably through trade and commerce. The name was probably brought by the Persian-speaking Church of the East to Central Asia at some point. Whether or not the few who bear

that name in the gravestone corpus had connections themselves with India is impossible to determine, but they were clearly not of Indian ethnicity (if they

were, the ethnonym *-axaco or ~3-axaco would have been used).” Pre sumably the name spread to the Uighur Christians, resulting in its occurrence amongst a number of Uighur elites during the Mongol Yuan dynasty. Gravestone 7 [Fig. 10-7]

Location: Ashgabat National Museum of History, Archaeology Department: Item N-310. Whereas there were originally two gravestones in the Ashgabat Museum, one of them vanished during the regime of former Turkmen Presi dent Saparmurat Niyazov (1991-2006). Thanks for the survival of Gravestone 7 are due to Nurgozel Beshimova, Head of the Archaeology Department of the Ashgabat Museum. The image reproduced in this article was taken by

Vladimir Artemyev.” Dimensions: 27.5 x 18.5 x 0.6 cm

Publication: Chwolson, 1897, No 262; Maccoh, 1978 Text and Translation:

covar, anon l

*A, -a-àue 2 This is the grave of Pethion, the young boy. Commentary.

This stone and the other stone from Ashgabat, now missing, were dis cussed by M.A. Masson in his 1978 article. The missing stone, deciphered by

* Examples of genuine ethnonyms in the corpus include 1) st-s=-\, ºxe easas, “Yuhannan the Tavgach priest” (CHWOLSON, 1890, Nº. 3,'), where Tavgach could mean “Chinese,” “Uighur” or “Turk” (CLAUSON, 1972, 438); 2) rºux-sº >{\,, “Terim the Chi nese (woman)” (CHWOLSON, 1897, No 24); 3) as are r el less eo- --> Le e os -os-e sº-cals (sea-Šes |-sº |=e-o se L-a- less S-so ou as |=& oč. |=s | Liaco li ecos

*e

&l=>e e -a

And when Mar Denha” was alive, two Uighur monks came from China by command of the great Qubilai Khan to go worship in Jeru salem. And when they reached these countries, they were unable to find a way and the country was prohibited to pilgrimage. (They stayed) * See Zieme, Peter, 2015. Altuigurische Texte der Kirche des Ostens aus Zentralasien (Gorgias Eastern Christian Studies 41). Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press.

* Text: Wilmshurst, David, ed. & tr., 2016. Bar Hebraeus: The Ecclesiastical Chronicle (Gorgias Eastern Christian Studies 40). Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, p. 463 / translation: Wilmshurst, 2016, p. 462. See also Abbeloos, Jean-Baptiste & Thomas Joseph Lamy, ed. & tr., 1877. Gregorii Barhebraei Chronicon Ecclesiasticum, Sect. 2 = Vol. III. Louvain & Par is: E. Peeters & Maisonneuve, col. 451–454.

* The Catholicos-Patriarch of the Church of the East, about whom, see below. 275

with Mar Denḥa and that Mar Denḥa – so that his enemy Bar Qaligh might not go to China – consecrated one of these two Uighur, that is to say Turkish, monks metropolitan for China and Yahbalaha was his name. And when they were preparing to return to their country, Mar Denḥa departed.895 Then the Amir Eshmut, who was a son of their race, spoke about Yahbalaha to the King of Kings,896 saying “The Christians desire that he would be their Catholicos”. Indeed, also all of the Baghdadites preferred him, as one by whom, through his affini ty to the Mongols in race and language, they might be helped. And on account of this, a royal decree came out that he should be made Ca tholicos. And he gathered 24 bishops and they went down to Seleucia Ctesiphon and consecrated him Catholicos. But this Mar Yahbalaha, although weak in Syriac learning and writing, was a good-natured man and the fear of God was found in him and he showed great love to us and to the people with us. A number of facts are made clear in this passage. Yahbalaha and his companion Rabban Bar Ṣawma (curiously not named in the Chronicon Ec clesiasticum, unlike in the aforementioned Chronicon Syriacum) are Uighur, i.e. Turkish, monks. By Turkish we do not mean inhabitants of Turkey, but rather those of Turkic ethnicity, in this case hailing from the Central Asian heartland of the Turkic peoples. Again, whether or not they were Uighurs will be examined below, but Bar ʿEbroyo obviously considered that they were from that Turkic group. Moreover, when the text mentions the two monks coming from China, we must not think of that merely in terms of the land traditionally inhabited by the Chinese people, but rather as referring to the whole territory ruled by the Great Khan in Beijing, including the Mongolian homeland and parts of Sibe ria to the north. Indeed, according to Bar ʿEbroyo, it was the Great Khan Qubilai himself who had sent the monks westward on their pilgrimage to Je rusalem, a pilgrimage that circumstances barred them from successfully ful filling. But destiny had other plans for them. As a result of their arrival short ly before the death of Patriarch Denḥa I (r. 1265-1281) and the fact that they shared ethnic and linguistic roots with the ruling Mongols, the two monks were unwittingly in the right place at the right time. Although, as we will see below, Rabban Bar Ṣawma was the senior of the two monks, it was his disciple who was destined for the highest office in the Church of the East. Initially appointed metropolitan bishop for China by Mar Denḥa – in reaction to the pride of Simon Bar Qaligh, whom Denḥa had pre 895 896

A euphemism for “died.” A title of the Mongol Il-khan. 276

viously consecrated to that position – Mar Yahbalaha was subsequently ele vated, after Denha’s death, to the throne of Catholicos Patriarch. And Bar

‘Ebroyo tells us in his text that this appointment was the result of the wishes of all the people of Baghdad – not just the Christians – as well as the decree of the Il-khan Abaqa (r. 1265–1282). Regarding the latter aspect, it is interesting to see the role that the Amir Eshmut played in advocating for Yahbalaha to Abaqa. This individual, the meaning of whose Turkic name is unclear, 897 was, according to Bar ‘Ebroyo’s Civil Chronicle, :*šak 2 aa\, tºo lim-oo laš od 15-A, ... lºw-l ãºol? -Avosox, oci claiaºso logo ... log 235

so-5-33 -āolao' “an ambassador...

(who) was a great and honorable man from the race of the Uighurs and he travelled on the monastic way... and Eshmut was the governor of the

Amir.” also referred to as Lāoš I.i.2 25.0. Vasazz, “Amir Eshmut the Ui

ghur monk.” Also significant is the contrast of Yahbalaha’s strength in the knowledge of the Mongol ethos with his weakness in matters relating to the Syriac speaking world, the world of the church which he now led. However, as the

passage notes, the former trumped the latter in considering what sort of per son should lead the Church of the East at this critical time when Mongol power was going from strength to strength. And as Bar Ebroyo brings this short narrative to an end, he notes approvingly that, despite any deficiencies in knowledge that he may have had, Mar Yahbalaha was strong in the things

that matter: goodness, the fear of God and love. Further evidence of the generally positive relationship between these two men representing branches of Syriac Christianity which had not always been friendly towards each other can be found in the description of Mar Yahbalaha’s actions after the death of Bar Ebroyo in July 1286 in the city of Maragha, as described by the brother of the latter, who continued his ecclesi astical chronicle:

•seas se Le Sée Joe SN- L-a-> lases—e less eo- --> \\es •eo an allo L-ae too

...|s;

aero J.Lat. --N-a le! Loas a

Le-e: |sses •lsº Lºca- less So

5-a-

cae,

|),

t-ce

|Ni-->

lies: |NS-S be

” Ras nyi, Lászl & Imre Baski, 2007. Onomasticon Turcicum: Turkic Personal Names (2 vols) (Indiana University Uralic and Altaic Series, Vol. 172/I & II). Bloomington: Indiana University, p. 270.

* Text: Bedjan, 1890, p. 535/ translation: Budge, 1932, p. 456. ” Text: Bedjan, 1890, p. 554/translation: Budge, 1932, p. 472. 277

•-se -seaağ Los +] &= loo

e-º-º:

•es-so

Golę.

|oo rº-iao r^*\to are

rºvºo

rºta corºo

***** ver- ca) asso Mar Yahbalaha, praiseworthy Patriarch of the East, glorious Cathol

icos, steward of the treasury of the Spirit; he, however, whom the Eternal Being brought (from) the Turkish country and set upon this throne by a miracle of wondrous provision and clothed (with) the ephod of honour and the stole of praise and glory and made dignified and loving, good and excellent above all. And kings have brought him gifts and queens offerings and amirs and princes have bowed down to him like those in subjection. Like all panegyrics, this passage is full of effusive hyperbole, but what is striking is that, sandwiched between proclaiming the titles of the Patriarch * Text: Vosté, Jacques-Marie, 1929. “Memra en l’honneur de Iahballaha III,” in Le Mu séon, Vol. 42, p. 172 / translation: Vosté, 1929, p. 174. 279

and extolling his character, we encounter the conviction that a miracle has brought him to the place where he now sits on the throne. God himself has brought him from the land of the Turk (‫ )ܛܘܪܟܝܐ‬in order to raise him up to this place of glory and honour, a place where monarchs befriend him and, even more, do obeisance to him, presumably a reference (albeit inflated) to the close relations that Mar Yahbalaha had with several Mongol rulers. In addition to these Syriac texts, Yahbalaha’s ethnicity is also mentioned in a couple of Christian Arabic texts. Thus, an unidentified scribe who con tinued a list of patriarchs of the Church of the East initially assembled by Eli ya Jawharī, the metropolitan of Damascus (writing sometime after 903)903 has as the second last entry ‫ایابالها الرتکی‬, “Yābālāhā the Turk.” As with the list in the Book of the Bee, his is the only one of the 76 names that is clarified with an ethnonym.904 More significant is an entry in the Christian Arabic Kitāb al-Majdal, “Book of the Tower,” a work that is frequently referred to in the literature under the name(s) of ʿAmr ibn Mattai, Mari ibn Sulaymān and/or Ṣalibā ibn Yuḥannā. The Kitāb al-Majdal was probably originally written in the 11th century, with a subsequent shorter continuation completed in the early 14th century905 – it is in the latter that we find the section on Mar Yahbalaha, which begins as follows:

‫۞ ایابالها الثالث ۞ هذا االب کان شااب مليع الصورۃ خمنجر اللحیۃ مث عمر فی الکرسیحتی‬ ‫صار شينحا هيواب وهو من الرتک من ابلد اخلطا ورد من بلده فی خدمة القان املعظم وکان سبب‬ 906‫املقدس‬

‫جميه الی هذه االرضالجل زایرة بيت‬

903 Fiaccadori, Gianfranco, 1984. “On the Dating of Īliyā al-Ğawharī’s Collectio canonica,” in Oriens Christianus, Vol. 68, pp. 213-214; Fiaccadori, Gianfranco, 1986. “Īliyā al Ğawharī, Īliyā of Damascus,” in Oriens Christianus, Vol. 70, pp. 192-193. 904 Text and translation: Assemani, 1721, p. 392. 905 On this work, see the following excellent overview: Holmberg, Bo, 1993. “A reconsider ation of the Kitāb al-Mağdal,” in Parole de l’Orient, Vol. XVIII, pp. 255-273. 906 Gismondi, 1896-1897, pp. ١٢٢-١٢٣ (text) / 71 (translation). The Arabic text with a dif ferent Latin translation can be found in Hilgenfeld, R., ed. & tr., 1896. Jabalahae III, Catholici Nestoriani, vita, ex Slivae Mossulani libro, qui inscribitur 'Turris', desumpta. Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, pp. 10 (text) / 11 (translation). Compare also the French transla tion (without accompanying Arabic text) in Siouffi, M., 1881. “Notice sur un patriarche nes torien,” in Journal Asiatique, Vol. VII (Ser.), No. XVII (Tom.), p. 90 and the English trans lation in Montgomery, James A., tr., 1927. The History of Yaballaha III, Nestorian Patri arch, and of his Vicar Bar Sauma. New York: Columbia University Press, pp. 20-21. 280

Yābālāhā the Third. This father was a young man, full in appearance, with a beard shaped like a dagger; his throne flourished until he be came old and revered. He was a Turk from the land of Khitai907 and he came from his own country in the service of the Great Khan. And this was the reason that he came to this land: to visit the Holy House.908 The text proceeds to describe the life of Yahbalaha, from the time that he and his aforementioned companion Rabban Bar Ṣawma arrived in the Middle East on their pilgrimage from China up to the patriarch’s death on 13 No vember, in the year 1629 “of the Greeks” (i.e. the Seleucid era), correspond ing to 1317 CE. Along the way, details are given of Yahbalaha and Rabban Bar Ṣawma’s interactions with the aforementioned Il-khan Abaqa and patri arch Mar Denḥa, as well as Yahbalaha’s elevation in the church hierarchy, when he was consecrated as the metropolitan of Tangut, a reference to the territory of the Tangut people, formerly the Xi Xia or Tangut Empire (1038 1227), located in the modern Chinese provinces of Gansu, Ningxia, Shanxi and Shaanxi. After Mar Denḥa died, Yahbalaha was greeted with cries of “Behold, our Catholicos and our patriarch!” More than 20 bishops and metropolitans consecrated the new patriarch, who went on to outlast seven rulers of the Mongol Il-khanate (which had conquered the former ʿAbbasid Caliphate in 1258): Abaqa/Abagha Khan (r. 1265-1282), Sultan Aḥmad (r. 1282-1284), Arghun Khan (r. 1284-1291), Geikhatu Khan (r. 1291-1295), Baidu Khan (r. 1295), Ghazan Khan (r. 1295 1304) and Sultan Öljeitü (r. 1304-1316). Yahbalaha died early in the reign of Sultan Abu Saʿid (r. 1316-1335).909 This section of the Kitāb al-Majdal on Yahbalaha III (the last patriarch discussed in the text)910 ends by noting that he was the 72nd patriarch of the Church of the East – not including seven pa triarchs whose names were struck from the list due to having assumed patri archal power “by fraud and force” – after which the author gives us a list of

Stemming from the Khitan people who formed the Liao dynasty (907-1125), Khitai (English “Cathay”) is usually understood to refer to the northern parts of China. 908 Here, a reference to Jerusalem. 909 Spelling of names and date ranges for reigns are taken from Atwood, Christopher P., 2004. Encyclopedia of Mongolia and the Mongol Empire. New York: Facts on File Publica tions, p. 625. 910 His patriarchal name was used by two previous leaders of the Church of the East: Yahbalaha I (415-420) and Yahbalaha II (1190-1222). 281 907

27 metropolitans in the Church of the East, presumably at the time of writing, during the early 14th century.911

The History of Mar Yahbalaha We come now to the most important text for the history of Yahbalaha the Turk, The History of Mar Yahbalaha, Catholicos of the East, and of Rabban Ṣawma, Visitor-General. On first appearance, it seems to have been written after the death of the patriarch in 1317, but Jean Maurice Fiey has argued convincingly that it was actually composed in 1312.912 Much has been writ ten about this book, but only a fraction of it can be discussed in this article. For more detailed information, the reader is referred to the various transla tions and studies made from the Syriac text discovered by Paul Bedjan in 1887.913 Before recounting the basic elements of the story, we might note a rather significant statement made by the Syriac translator – the text was trans lated from a now-lost Persian original – contained in the dedicatory statement which begins the work:

For the Arabic text, see Gismondi, 1896-1897, pp. ١٢٢-١٢٧; Hilgenfeld, 1896, pp. 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20. For Latin and French translations, see Gismondi, 1896-1897, pp. 71-73; Hilgenfeld, 1896, pp. 11, 13, 15, 17, 19; Siouffi, 1881, pp. 90-96. 912 Fiey, Jean-Maurice, 1988. “Le Grand Catholicos turco-mongol Yahwalaha III (1281 1317),” in Proche-Orient Chrétien, Vol. 38, pp. 209-210. 913 Bedjan’s text was published twice: 1) Bedjan, Paul, ed., 1888. Histoire de Mar Jab alaha, Patriarche et de Raban Sauma (1st ed.). Paris: Maisonneuve; 2) Bedjan, Paul, ed., 1895. Histoire de Mar-Jabalaha, de trois autres patriarches, d’un prêtre et de deux laïques, nestoriens (2nd ed.). Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz. The most important translations and studies are 3) Chabot, Jean-Baptiste, tr., 1895. Histoire de Mar Jabalaha III, Patriarche des Nesto riens (1281-1317) et du moine Rabban Çauma. Paris: Ernest Leroux; 4) Montgomery, James A., tr., 1927. The History of Yaballaha III, Nestorian Patriarch, and of his Vicar Bar Sauma. New York: Columbia University Press; 5) Budge, Ernest A. Wallis, tr., 1928. The Monks of Kûblâi Khân, Emperor of China. London: Religious Tract Society; 6) Pelliot, Paul, 1973. Recherches sur les chrétiens d’Asie centrale et d’Extrême-Orient [Vol. 1] (Oeuvres Pos thumes de Paul Pelliot). Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, pp. 239-288; 7) Fiey, Jean-Maurice, 1988. “Le Grand Catholicos turco-mongol Yahwalaha III (1281-1317),” in Proche-Orient Chrétien, Vol. 38, pp. 209-220; 8) Borbone, Pier Giorgio, 2000. Storia di Mar Yahballaha e di Rabban Sauma: Un orientale in Occidente ai tempi di Marco Polo. Torino: Silvio Zamo rani editore. The latter work was translated into French as 9) Borbone, Pier Giorgio & Alex andre Egly, tr., 2008. Un ambassadeur du Khan Argun en Occident: Histoire de Mar Yah ballaha III et de Rabban Sauma (1281-1317). Paris: L’Harmattan. A second Italian edition, which includes the entire Syriac text, has also been published: 10) Borbone, Pier Giorgio, ed. & tr., 2009. Storia di Mar Yahballaha e di Rabban Sauma. Cronaca siriaca del XIV secolo. Moncalieri: Lulu Press. A handy summary of the text can be found in Moule, A. C., 1930. Christians in China before the year 1550. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, pp. 94-126. 282 911

By the power of our Lord Jesus the Messiah, I begin to write “The History of the Father of Fathers and the Master and Chief of Pastors, Mar Yahbalaha, Catholicos-Patriarch of the East and of Rabban Ṣawma, the Visitor-General of the Eastern Turks.” Our Lord, assist me and lead me to the completion (of the work), in your mercy. Amen. Thus, even here in the title, at the very beginning of the work, the Turkic context of its protagonists is acknowledged, a point that is further expanded on in the translator’s preface:

Today the Turks have bound their necks to the yoke of divine lordship and have trusted and firmly believed the word of the Lord with their whole heart. The story is thus told within the broader framework of devout Christian Turks. The actual narrative begins with the parents of Ṣawma:

There was a certain freeborn believer who feared God… whose name was Sheban917 the Visitor. He lived in the city called Khan Baliq, that is to say the royal city that is in the land of the East. Although Sheban – whose Turkic name is also found amongst the Oghuz and Turkmen during the 13th century918 – and his wife Qyamtha were initial ly unable to have children, they eventually had a son, whom they named Ṣawma. He grew up as a zealous and knowledgeable Christian who took mo nastic vows around the age of twenty and went to live in the mountains about a day’s journey from Khan Baliq (Beijing), the capital of the Yuan dynasty in

Text: Bedjan, 1895, p. 1 / translation: Budge, 1928, p. 120. Text: Bedjan, 1895, p. 2/translation: Budge, 1928, p. 123. 916 Text: Bedjan, 1895, pp. 3-4/translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 27; Budge, 1928, p. 124. 917 This name is vocalized as ‫ܫܐܒܢ‬, Shēbān in Bedjan’s text. 918 Ras nyi & Baski, 2007, p. 688. See the discussion on this name in Pelliot, 1973, pp. 247 249. 283

914

915

China, where he had grown up. The story then switches to the origins of the future patriarch:

There was in the city of Koshang, in the country of the East, a believ ing and righteous man, pure and without fault, who served God con tinually in his church and conducted himself properly in his (God’s) laws, by the name of Bayan-el the Archdeacon. And he had four sons, the youngest of which was called Marqos. Like Ṣawma, our second protagonist was born920 into a Turkic family, to a father is unclear, with but a decidedly if it is Bayan-el non-Syriac as I name. propose, Theitpronunciation would be Turkic of Syr. in origin, meaning “rich folk, rich people, rich country.”921 Marqos turned out to be a zealous young man who also desired to be a monk and so made the fifteen day journey to where Ṣawma lived an ascetic lifestyle in a mountain cave. Sometime after Marqos received the monastic tonsure from the local metro politan, the two monks set their hearts on making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They departed from Khan Baliq, heading east by way of Marqos’s hometown of Koshang ( ). This is generally considered to have been somewhere in the territory of the Önggüt (or Önggüd) Turks, who lived in what is now In ner Mongolia and who had converted to Christianity at some point.922 More

Text: Bedjan, 1895, pp. 9-10 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 30; Budge, 1928, p. 130. 920 Based on a later statement that Marqos/Yahbalaha was in his 37th year of age when he

919

became patriarch in 1281 (text: Bedjan, 1895, p. 38 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 46; Budge, 1928, p. 156), it is assumed that he was born ca. 1245. 921 Although the proposed composite name is not found in Ras nyi & Baski, 2007, the two elements are: “Bayan” on p. 105 and “El” on pp. 252-253. See also the discussion in Pelliot, 1973, p. 251. 922 For more on the Önggüd/Önggüt, see Atwood, 2004, pp. 424-425. On their conversion, see Atwood, Christopher P., 2014. “Historiography and transformation of ethnic identity in the Mongol Empire: the Öng’üt case,” in Asian Ethnicity, Vol. 15, No. 4, pp. 514-534. On their Christianity, see Borbone, Pier Giorgio, 2008. “Syroturcica 1. The Önggüds and the Syriac Language,” in Malphono w-Rabo d-Malphone: Studies in Honor of Sebastian P. Brock, ed. by George A. Kiraz. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, pp. 1-17. 284

specifically, it was likely either Olon Süme923 or “the southern political cen ter of the Önggüts”924. Interestingly, the, “the two monks sons-in-law attracted of the theKing attention of Kings, of the Khan: Kun buqa and Ay-buqa.”925 These two Önggüt princes have classical Turkic names, meaning “sun-bull” and “moon-bull” respectively.926 We may note in passing that the reference to Koshang only establishes the Önggüt origins of Marqos. The text is unclear regarding the exact Turkic group that Ṣawma be longed to. Although it has been suggested that he was probably also an Önggüt,927 we cannot rule out the possibility that he was indeed an Uighur, as Bar ʿEbroyo obviously believed. As Paul Pelliot notes, Ṣawma’s father Sheban shares his name with individuals in the Chinese dynastic History of Yuan (Yuanshi) who are identified as either Uighur or Önggüt; Pelliot goes so far as to suggest that “the name is in all likelihood Uighur in origin.”928 From Koshang, the two travelling companions made their way westward via various locations along the Silk Road network, in a journey that likely took place ca. 1277-1279: the aforementioned Tangut ( ); Khotan ( sic) and Kashgar ( ) along the southern route of the Silk Road; Talas ( ) on the western side of the Tien Shan mountain range; Khorasan ( ) in eastern Iran and finally Maragha ( ) in north-western Iran, where they met Mar Denḥa, Catholicos-Patriarch of the Church of the

Borbone, Pier Giorgio, 2015. “Les «provinces de l’extérieur» vues par l’Église-mère,” in Le christianisme syriaque en Asie Centrale et en Chine (Études syriaques 12), ed. by Pier Giorgio Borbone & Pierre Marsone. Paris: Geuthner, p. 138. On Christian gravestones and other artifacts discovered in the area, see Halbertsma, Tjalling, 2015. Early Christian Re mains of Inner Mongolia: Discovery, Reconstruction and Appropriation, 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill. 924 Paolillo, Maurizio, 2006. “A Nestorian Tale of Many Cities,” in Jingjiao: The Church of the East in China and Central Asia (Collectanea Serica), ed. by Roman Malek & Peter Hofrichter. Sankt Augustin: Institut Monumenta Serica, p. 373. For an extensive discussion of the name, including possible Chinese reconstructions, see Pelliot, 1973, pp. 251-255, 259 261. 925 Text: Bedjan, 1895, p. 15 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 33; Budge, 1928, p. 135. 926 Ras nyi & Baski, 2007, pp. 392, 171-172, 14. See discussions in Moule, 1930, p. 99, n. 8; Pelliot, 1973, p. 261 (with a more extensive discussion of the family tree of the various Önggüt princes on pp. 261ff). An earlier discussion of “Kün-buqa and Aï-buqa” and their broader family can be found in Pelliot, Paul, 1914. “Chrétiens d’asie centrale et d’extrême orient,” in T’oung Pao, Vol. 15, pp. 629-635. 927 Borbone, 2009, p. 135. 928 Pelliot, 1973, pp. 247-248. See also Moule, 1930, p. 94, n. 2. 285 923

East.929 Shortly after arriving, ca. 1280, Marqos received his appointment from the patriarch as a metropolitan bishop, but unlike The Book of the Tower, it is not to the province of Tangut, but rather “to the flock of Khitai and Öng” (referring to Northern China and Önggüt territory, in fact very close to the Tangut region).930 As discussed above, when Denḥa died in 1281, the Önggüt monk turned metropolitan Yahbalaha was elected the first and only Turkic patriarch of the Church of the East, an office he would hold until 1317.931 Of specific interest to our theme is a point made very clearly by the au thor of The History of Mar Yahbalaha, echoing what we have already seen Bar ʿEbroyo say in his Chronicon Ecclesiasticum about Marqos/Yahbalaha being “weak in Syriac learning and writing.” Indeed, the History states very plainly:

The rationale for his election was that the kings who possessed the oars of administration of the whole inhabitable world were the Mon gols and there was none at all who was expert in their way of life and their manner of life and their language, apart from him. And when they said these things to him, he excused himself from their discourse and alleged, “I am lacking instruction and ecclesiastical teaching. And the member of my tongue is disabled; how can I become this? For I do not even know your Syriac language, that which is a univer sal necessity.”

929 Text: Bedjan, 1895, pp. 14-20 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, pp. 33-36; Budge, 1928, pp. 135-140. 930 Text: Bedjan, 1895, pp. 28-29 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 41; Budge, 1928, p. 148; see also Dauvillier, Jean, 1948. “Les Provinces Chaldéennes ‘de l’Extérieur’ au Moyen Age,” in Mélanges offerts au R. P. Ferdinand Cavallera. Toulouse: Bibliothèque de l’Institut Catholique, pp. 302-304; Moule, 1930, p. 103, n. 16. 931 Text: Bedjan, 1895, pp. 32-38 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, pp. 43-46; Budge, 1928, pp. 151-156. 932 Text: Bedjan, 1895, p. 34 / translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 44; Budge, 1928, p. 152 153. 286

There is no avoiding the fact that Yahbalaha’s knowledge of all things Mongol is viewed by those responsible for electing him to the patriarchal throne as an undeniable benefit. Where normally ignorance of Syriac would almost certainly disqualify a candidate from leading the Church of the East, in this case, it is seen as a negotiable item which can be dispensed with in light of the strengths of his knowledge of the Inner Asian culture and lan guage of the new masters of so much of the known world. When Marqos was made a metropolitan by Denḥa I, Rabban Ṣawma was appointed visitor-general. Although not specifically mentioned in the text, the fact that the two monks were appointed to these positions concurrently and that Marqos’ new seat was in China strongly suggests that Rabban Ṣawma was also meant to carry out his position back in the land of his birth; hence, the reference to him in the dedicatory statement as “Visitor-General of the Eastern Turks.” However, after Yahbalaha became patriarch, he and Arghun Khan sent Rabban Ṣawma on a diplomatic mission to Europe (1287-1288).933 Amongst his many adventures was an interrogation by cardinals in Rome, during which the following exchange took place:

They said, “It is a marvel that you are a Christian and a deacon of the patriarchal throne of the East and you come in the embassy of the king of the Mongols.” He said, “Know, O fathers, that many of our fathers have gone to the lands of the Mongols, Turks and Chinese and have taught them, and today there are many Mongol Christians.”

933 On which, see Richard, Jean, 1957. “La mission en Europe de Rabban Çauma et l’union des églises,” in Oriente ed Occidente nel medio evo: Convegno di scienze morali storiche e filologiche, 27 maggio - 1 giugno 1956. Milan: Fondazione Alessandro Volta, pp. 162-167; Laurent, Marie-Hyacinthe, 1958. “Rabban Ṣaumā, ambassadeur de l’Il-Khan Argoun, et la cathédrale de Veroli (1288),” in Mélanges d’Archéologie et d’Histoire, Vol. 70, pp. 331-365; Brock, Sebastian P., 1969. “Rabban Ṣauma à Constantinople (1287),” in Mémorial Mgr Gabriel Khouri-Sarkis (1898–1968), ed. by François Graffin. Louvain: Imprimerie orientaliste, pp. 245-253; Klein, Wassilios, 1995. “Rabban Sauma in der Kirche der Hll. Apostel zu Konstantinopel (1287),” in Syrisches Christentum weltweit: Studien zur syrischen Kirchengeschichte. Festschrift für Wolfgang Hage, ed. by Martin Tamcke, Wolfgang Schwaigert & Egbert Schlarb. Münster: LITVerlag, pp. 220-233. 934 Text: Bedjan, 1895, p. 57/translation: Montgomery, 1927, p. 56; Budge, 1928, p. 174. 287

Here we find an interesting juxtaposition between the incredulous cardi nals who cannot fathom how a Christian can be in the service of the Mongols and the visitor from China who informs them that the Christians of the East have been busy making disciples of Mongols, Turks and Chinese. Once again, we see the inescapable Mongol-Turkic context in which Rabban Ṣaw ma and Yahbalaha operated. Western Sources Before concluding this essay, we might consider how Mar Yahbalaha was portrayed by those outside the Syriac-speaking community. Two examples will suffice. The first is from the Armenian History of the Province of Syunik by Stephen Orbelian (1297). In Chapter 71, he describes how, after having been consecrated a metropolitan bishop in the Armenian Apostolic Church in 1286, he and his party went to meet Arghun Khan, who “ordered us to stay with him, to consecrate a church in his palace, which the great pope of Rome had sent to him. There we found the Catholicos Nestor, with 12 bishops. To gether with them we consecrated the church with great pomp.”935 As the translator Brosset notes, “It should be translated as ‘Nestorian,’ even though the adjective form is missing here.”936 Thus, for Orbelian, Yahbalaha is the Nestorian Catholicos and no more. The second example comes from the Itinerarium of Riccoldo da Monte di Croce, a Dominican missionary who visited Baghdad in 1290/91, preaching against “Nestorianism” in one of the churches there. He mentions only “their patriarch,” being far more concerned with recording the fact that “we demon strated before all our Catholic faith and their error.”937 The Dominican is even less concerned with who the patriarch is, obsessed as he is with winning the theological battle that he came to fight with “these miscreants [who] pre fer the glory of people and the world than that of God.”938 The Seal of Mar Yahbalaha We finish this study on Mar Yahbalaha with a look at the document that adorns the cover of this book [Fig. 11-1], a letter containing the great seal of the patriarch. The Vatican archives contain two such letters: this one, sent by

935 French original in Brosset, M., tr., 1864. Histoire de la Siounie par Stéphannos Orbélian, Vol. I. Saint-Petersburg: Eggers et Cie, p. 266. 936 Brosset, 1864, p. 266, n. 1. 937 French original in de Backer, Louis, tr., 1877. L’Extrême-Orient au moyen âge. Paris: Ernest Leroux, pp. 323-324. 938 de Backer, 1877, p. 324. 288

Yahbalaha III to Pope Boniface VIII in 1302” and a second, longer one sent to Pope Benedict XI in 1304.” In these letters, the patriarch made vari ous “professions of Catholic faith” which should be understood not as a

genuine desire for union with Rome but rather as a plea for help addressed to potential Christian allies during a time when the Church of the East facing

increased hostility and persecution in the Mongol Il-khanid realm.” The letter begins with the following text in Syriac (which may well be in the patriarch’s own hand, although there is no evidence for or against this supposition): :rºx.xcunx rºssovo rºtao rº-rº X,x=&

coa-asian rºom"rºacne rººcaar

casi-ºva rºa,Mačva rear-on →o, “Our Lord (is) with all of us, Amen.” All in all, the brief Syriac portions of the letter tell us little about the writer; despite using fairly typical expressions of devotion and hu mility, as befits a cleric in the Syriac tradition, they give us little insight into the type of man he was.

” Signature A.A. Arm. I-XVIII 1800 (1) in the Vatican Secret Archives. * For a description of both letters, including the Arabic text and an Italian translation of each, see Bottini, Laura, 1992. “Due lettere inedite del patriarca Mār Yahbhallāhā III (1281 1317),” in Rivista degli Studi Orientali, Vol. 66, No. 3-4, pp. 239-256. Latin translations of the 1304 letter can also be found in Chabot, 1895, pp. 249-56; Giamil, Samuel, 1902. Genu inae Relationes inter Sedem Apostolicam et Assyriorum Orientalium seu Chaldaeorum Ec clesiam. Rome: Ermanno Loescher & Co., pp. 4-8. Landron, Bénédicte, 1994. Chrétiens et Musulmans en Irak: Attitudes Nestoriennes vis-à-vis de l'Islam. Paris: Cariscript, pp. 298– 299 contains a partial French translation. 941 See, for example, the comments in Moule, 1930, pp.123-124.

* Syriac rºaro-rº could also be translated as “stranger, foreigner, guest, visitor.” 289

Somewhat more interesting is the Syro-Turkic patriarchal seal imprinted .943

over the bottom of the letter, which can be rendered as follows: Turkic transcription

Syriac script

** s-as-is-A, as a 1 was .\\, \rºr-3 rºassº, 2 ~ a s—or saue 3 -a, -arºu rºianz 4

1 maingii tängri kiicintá 2 momká qayan yarliyimiz 3 biznit) iićün 4 Šāhra tapinib

Saiarº A, 3 x, x\rº 5

5 alqis qilib uruy 6 uruyumizqa buyan