From Topography to Text: The Image of Jerusalem in the Writings of Eucherius, Adomnan and Bede (Studia Traditionis Theologiae) (Studia Traditionis ... ikn Early and Medieval Theology, 30) 9782503580753, 2503580750

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STUDIA TRADITIONIS THEOLOGIAE Explorations in Early and Medieval Theology

Theology continually engages with its past: the people, experience, Scriptures, liturgy, learning and customs of Christians. The past is preserved, rejected, modified; but the legacy steadily evolves as Christians are never indifferent to history. Even when engaging the future, theology looks backwards: the next generation’s training includes inheriting a canon of Scripture, doctrine, and controversy; while adapting the past is central in every confrontation with a modernity. This is the dynamic realm of tradition, and this series’ focus. Whether examining people, texts, or periods, its volumes are concerned with how the past evolved in the past, and the interplay of theology, culture, and tradition.

STUDIA TRADITIONIS THEOLOGIAE Explorations in Early and Medieval Theology 30 Series Editor: Thomas O’Loughlin, Professor of Historical Theology in the University of Nottingham

EDITORIAL BOARD

Director Prof. Thomas O’Loughlin Board Members Dr Andreas Andreopoulos, Dr Nicholas Baker-Brian, Dr Augustine Casiday, Dr Mary B. Cunningham, Dr Juliette Day, Dr Johannes Hoff, Dr Paul Middleton, Dr Simon Oliver, Prof. Andrew Prescott, Dr Patricia Rumsey, Dr Jonathan Wooding, Dr Holger Zellentin

FROM TOPOGRAPHY TO TEXT The Image of Jerusalem in the Writings of Eucherius, Adomnán and Bede

Rodney Aist

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© 2018, Brepols Publishers n. v., Turnhout, Belgium All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2018/0095/145 ISBN 978-2-503-58075-3 e-ISBN 978-2-503-58076-0 DOI 10.1484/M.STT-EB.5.115690 ISSN 2294-3617 e-ISSN 2566-0160 Printed on acid-free paper

To Janet

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi Figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XIi Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scholars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Biblical Texts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Primary Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Series and Periodicals. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

xxi xxi xxi xxii xxiii

Chapter 1. Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1. Un élément nouveau. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.2. Jerusalem Topography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.3. The Insular Perspective. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.4. Implications and Limitations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.5. Scholars and Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.6. Contents and Findings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.7. Topographical Nomenclature. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1 1 2 2 4 5 6 8

Chapter 2. The Jerusalem Pilgrim Texts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1. Premises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2. A Topographical Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Four Components of Topographical Descriptions. . Topographical Templates. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Commemorative Credibility. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Religious Imagination. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3. Assessing Textual Images of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4. Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

13 14 16 17 36 37 40 47 48

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Table of Contents

Chapter 3. Eucherius’ Letter to Faustus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1. The Name of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2. Mt Sion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3. The Holy Sepulchre. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.4. The Temple . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.5. The Pool of Bethesda and the Spring of Siloam . . . . . . . . . 3.6. Extramural Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.7. Eucherius’ Image of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.8. Format and Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

53 53 54 58 59 59 60 61 62

Chapter 4. Adomnán’s De locis sanctis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1. Approaches and Premises. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adls as Pilgrim Text. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Internal Witness of Adls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Role of Arculf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adls’ Supplemental Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Three Books of Adls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2. The City of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adls 1.1 as Prologue. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intramural Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Extramural Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3. Maps and Resources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Jerusalem Circuit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Arculf in Jerusalem’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4. Conclusion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adls’ Image of New Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adomnán’s Use of Eucherius. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mapping Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

63 63 63 64 65 67 67 70 70 73 90 102 102 103 105 105 108 110

Chapter 5. Bede’s De locis sanctis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1. Bdls as Epitome. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2. The Purpose of Bdls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3. Scholarship on Bdls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4. Bede and His Sources: Adomnán and Eucherius. . . . . . . . Bede’s Use of Adls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bede’s Use of Eucherius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5. The Jerusalem Material of Bede’s De locis sanctis . . . . . . . . Bdls 1: The Area of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls 2: Intramural Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls 3: The Tree of Judas and Aceldama. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls 4: The Cloth Relics of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

113 113 114 115 116 116 117 118 118 123 133 134

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Bdls 5.1: Leaving Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls 5: The Jehoshaphat Valley. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls 6: The Mt of Olives and its Holy Places. . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6. Summary of Bede’ De locis sanctis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls as Pilgrim Text. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bede’s use of Adls and Eucherius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Structure and Sequence of Bdls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bdls’ Image of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Final Assessment of Bede. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

136 138 141 144 144 147 149 150 152

Chapter 6. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1. The Study’s Emphases. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.2. The Study’s Findings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Christian Topography of Early Islamic Jerusalem. . . Arculf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Eucherius. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adomnán’s De locis sanctis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bede’s De locis sanctis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Line of Transmission. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3. Further Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

155 155 156 156 157 157 158 159 161 162

Appendix 1. Adls and the Post-Byzantine Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Appendix 2. A Review of O’Loughlin and the Arculf Debate. . . A2.1. The Scholarly Context of Adls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.2. Augustine’s De doctrina christiana. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.3. The Need for an Expert Eyewitness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.4. Adls as Exegetical Manual . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.5. Adomnán as Exegete . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.6. Methodology. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.7. The Problems of Arculf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Errors of Arculf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arculf ’s Pilgrim Persona . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discernible Pathways. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arculf ’s Background. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Final Verdict on Arculf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A2.8. Conclusion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . O’Loughlin’s Approach to the Text. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Role of Jerusalem Tradition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Theological Acumen of Adls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

167 167 169 172 176 180 182 184 185 189 193 198 201 204 204 205 207

Appendix 3. Peter of Burgundy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209

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Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 Figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Bibliography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 I. Ancient and Medieval Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 II. Modern Authors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Indices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I. Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a. Biblical References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . b. Ancient Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . c. Modern Authors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . II. People . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a. Biblical Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . b. Historical Names. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III. Places. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a. The Holy Sepulchre. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . b. The City of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . c. The Holy Land. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . d. Other Places . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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251 251 251 252 254 254 254 255 257 257 258 261 262

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figures Fig. 1: Topographic Map of Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 2: Plan of Byzantine Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 3: 1876 Ordnance Map of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 4. The Transmission of Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 5. Bede’s Walkthrough of the Holy Sepulchre. . . . . . . . . . Fig. 6. Eucherius’ Image of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 7. Adomnán’s Image of Intramural Jerusalem with Temple . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 8. Adomnán’s Image of Intramural Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 9. Adomnán’s Image of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 10. Bede’s Image of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fig. 11. Bede’s Circuit of Jerusalem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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215 216 217 218 218 219 219 220 220 221 221

List of Illustrations

Tables Table 1: Adls and the Post-Byzantine Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Table 2: Simple Structure of Texts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224 Table 3: Detailed Structure of Texts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224 Table 4: Prologue and Intramural Material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 Table 5: The Extramural Material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226 Table 6: Structure of Bede following Eucherius. . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 Table 7: The Holy Sepulchre Material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230 Table 8: The Holy Sepulchre Material following Bdls 2.1-3. . . 231 Table 9: On the Temple. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232 Table 10: Various Indices. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233

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FOREWORD

Just as someone who has visited Athens has a better understanding of Greek history … so one who has contemplated Judea and its cities with his own eyes has a clearer grasp of Holy Scripture. So wrote St Jerome around the end of the fourth century in his second preface to the Books of Chronicles.1 It, and the notion that geography aids exegesis, has prompted many down the years to study the landscape of ‘the lands of the bible,’ or ‘the domain of the scared drama,’ or, to use Adomnán’s term, ‘the loca sancta.’ This quest for the biblical landscape we first hear of in the second century,2 and it continues today with a steady stream of guidebooks which engage both the biblical text and curiosity of the visitor / pilgrim / scholar as they move around Jerusalem and its hinterland. Adomnán’s work, the subject of this book by Rodney Aist – my former student and now my friend – takes its place in a long tradition of Christian writing. But it is important to look closely at Jerome’s statement: he not only ascribes value to geographical knowledge as an exegetical tool – an awareness made explicit by Augustine in his De doctrina Christiana3 – but expresses the need to experience the place, the very place, by visiting it. Thus the visitor to Athens appreciates Greek history in a different way in those specific locations, and the visitor to Judea appreciates the narrative in a new way by standing in and moving around the landscape. 1 The text can be found in D. De Bruyne, Prefaces to the Latin Bible (Turnhout 2105), 31. 2 Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica 6,11,2. 3 2,16,23.

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Foreword

Jerome, one of the most bookish of the Latin theologians, is here advocating the unique quality that comes from ‘walking the territory’ and notes in passing that no amount of reading and study can replace the actual sense-perception of experience. Here is that ironic noetic quality of being ‘in the very spot’ of an event that, for all its continuing relevance as an element in someone’s faith, took place long ago. As a modern scriptural scholar once remarked to me: ‘there is no substitute for eye-balling it!’ That said, Jerome was at once confronted with a double-sided problem. On one side we have the conundrum that experience cannot be substituted with a book, but only through books can the vast majority of people have the benefits of experience. Only a handful of those who heard or studied the Scriptures ever got to see the Holy Places. The ‘normal’ experience was that people read about the places, imagined them as best they could, usually with reference to the places near to him, and, perhaps, thought how lucky some were to get to see those places with their eyes as pilgrims. So for the majority the sense of place had to come through the mediation of the book. On the other hand, it was the sense of place, that awareness that distinct events happened in a unique place at a given time, which made the biblical texts more than a book of religious wisdom; it was, as Augustine observed, the recording of contingent history that made a ‘sacred narrative.’4 This book plunges the reader into this cyclical process of experience, leading to books, leading to further experience, leading to yet more reading. When I came to the study of Adomnán’s De locis sanctis in the later 1980s, I emphasised how it belonged to the world of reading and study, and consequently tended to deprecate its being relegated to the curiosity corner as the second-hand reminiscences of a traveller. That quest for Adomnán issued forth in a string of articles, some chapters, and a book.5 Arculf became a figure on the horizon rather than a central focus. This quest in turn stimulated Rodney to examine other pilgrim accounts in Latin and how they related to the actual scene: the places in Jerusalem and its surroundings.6 Then, with his profound knowledge of the places gained while he lived in Jerusalem, he turned to De locis sanctis and noted how my work’s emphasis of the reading end of the equa De doctrina Christiana 2,28,42-44. Adomnán and the Holy Places: The Perceptions of an Insular Monk on the Location of the Biblical Drama (London 2007). 6 Willibald of Eichstätt (700-787CE) and the Christian Topography of Early Islamic Jerusalem (Turnhout 2009). 4 5

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Foreword

tion needed to be balanced and supplemented by new work on what the De locis sanctis says about those places at the end of the seventh century: hence this book. Never have I been so gratified at footnotes pointing out my deficiencies as I have been in reading this book. I hope that my work showed up one part of the value of spending time in the study of Adomnán and what it can tell us of Christians’ scholarship in the seventh century; now it is clear that attention to the detail of Adomnán, as a reporter, has much to tell us of Christian Jerusalem in that period. Scholarship never stands still. And as I see my work as having prompted this work by Rodney Aist, so I hope that our work will prompt yet further investigations. De locis sanctis is still a working goldmine! Thomas O’Loughlin Nottingham Feast of St Jerome, 30 ix 2018

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PREFACE

The following work is the result of a lunch conversation in Jerusalem with Thomas O’Loughlin, my former PhD adviser, during which I shared some topographical insights into Adomnán’s De locis sanctis that had subsequent implications for understanding the writings of Eucherius and Bede, perspectives that challenged his views on the texts. Tom invited me to write up my research for Studia Traditionis Theologiae, knowing that he would be editing a volume that critiqued his own work. I am grateful for Tom’s encouragement as well as the gracefulness with which he has allowed personal friendship and the pursuit of scholarship to co-exist. It is my hope that the book is an appropriate tribute to the formative influence that he has had on my scholarship. Tom has imparted me with a passion for Adomnán’s De locis sanctis, to which we bring different but ultimately complimentary insights – his in medieval exegesis, mine in Jerusalem topography – both of which are needed for a comprehensive understanding of Adomnán’s text. While I defer to Tom’s insights into the Latin scholarship of Adomnán, my work establishes the post-Byzantine milieu of De locis sanctis’ topographical contents, which, in turn, points to Arculf as the central source of the text. I, consequently, view Adomnán’s De locis sanctis primarily as a pilgrim text focused upon contemporary, topographical details and not as an exegetical manual based upon patristic sources. While presenting an original discussion of the texts, the study addresses O’Loughlin’s depiction of Arculf as a ‘literary fiction’. O’Loughlin admits that some details of a traveller’s tale appear in the text; yet, ‘the Arculf that is found in Adls is a composite of many pieces of information from different sources’, a statement that raises more

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Preface

questions than answers.1 O’Loughlin takes a minimalist view of Arculf, and in doing so, he neither addresses the seventh-century contents of De locis sanctis nor credits Arculf (or contemporary Jerusalem) with any substantive contributions to the text. By contrast, the study finds Adomnán’s depiction of Arculf to be highly credible. O’Loughlin’s research has responded to a lack of scholarly recognition regarding the achievements of Adomnan. While O’Loughlin has made invaluable contributions to our understanding of the text, he has swung the pendulum too far in the opposite direction. By focusing on the topographical evidence, the pilgrim text material and the phenomenon of Holy Land pilgrimage, rehabilitating Arculf in the process, I hope the pendulum has not swung yet again. There is space in the middle for the contributions of Arculf and Adomnán to be mutually acknowledged, while engagement between the Jerusalem material and Adomnán’s patristic sources is needed to advance our understanding of De locis sanctis. Perhaps Tom’s biggest influence on my scholarship has been in the area of religious imagination and mental maps. The original discussion offered by this study moves from the topographical building blocks of Jerusalem to the religious minds of three early medieval Latin authors, each writing remotely of a city they have never seen. I hope this study will spur further research into the religious imagination and mental maps of theological texts. My insights into the topography of Jerusalem and the pilgrim text material stem from four years of residence in the Holy City where I have been able to walk the landscapes, visit the sites, search the libraries and dialogue with scholars and pilgrims. The key topographical findings of the study, namely, the recognition that Adomnán’s description of intramural Jerusalem is limited to the complex of the Holy Sepulchre, emerged during my PhD research into the eighth-century pilgrim text of Willibald of Eichstätt (d. 787) while I was an Educational and Cultural Affairs Junior Research Fellow and the George A. Barton Fellow at the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, Jerusalem. I have consequently served as the course director of St George’s College, Jerusalem, where I taught and guided short-term pilgrim courses over the same landscapes. As O’Loughlin acknowledges, ‘if a text is located in a landscape, then one who knows that landscape has a greater appreciation of what he / she hears, can understand movements of people TOL (2007), 63.

1

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Preface

described in that landscape more easily, and can grasp the significance of features and events that simply are missed by someone without the familiarity’.2 This book could not have been written without a familiarity with the Holy City. I am grateful to Tom, the Albright Institute, St George’s College and to the many scholars and pilgrims who have influenced me along the way. Points that I have missed, misrepresented or failed to grasp are errors of my own. Rodney Aist Epiphany 2018 Milan, Italy

TOL (2007), 14.

2

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ABBREVIATIONS

Scholars JMO JW TOL

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor John Wilkinson Thomas O’Loughlin

Biblical Texts Gen Ex Jos 1 Sam 2 Sam 1 Kgs 1 Chr 2 Chr Ps Is Ez 1 Mac Mt

Genesis Exodus Joshua 1 Samuel 2 Samuel 1 Kings 1 Chronicles 2 Chronicles Psalms Isaiah Ezekiel 1 Maccabees Matthew



Abbreviations

Mk Lk Jn Act Rom 1 Cor Heb 1 Pet Apoc

Mark Luke John Acts of the Apostles Romans 1 Corinthians Hebrews 1 Peter Apocalypse, or Revelation, of John

Primary Sources Adls AG Anacr. Bdls Brev. Comm. Ddc DSTS Ep.  Ep. Faust. GL Hag. HE Itin. It. Bern. It. Burg. It. Eg. Lib. Loc. Onom.

De locis sanctis (Adomnán) The Armenian Guide Sophronii Anacreontica (Sophronius) De locis sanctis (Bede) Breviarius de Hierosolyma Commemoratorium de casis Dei De doctrina christiana (Augustine) De Situ Terrae Sanctae (Theodosius) Letter (various authors) Epistula ad Faustum Presbyterum (Eucherius) Georgian Lectionary Hagiopolita (Epiphanius the Monk) Historia ecclesiastica (Bede, Eusebius and Evagrius Scholasticus) Itinerarium (Piacenza Pilgrim) Itinerarium Bernardi (Bernard the Monk) Itinerarium Burdigalense (the Bordeaux Pilgrim) Itinerarium Egeriae (Egeria) Liber Locorum (Jerome) Onomasticon (Eusebius)



Abbreviations

Proto. Q. H. Gen. VW WB

Protoevangelium of James Hebraicae quaestiones in libro Geneseos (Jerome) Vita Willibaldi (Willibald) Wallfahrtsbericht (Daniel the Abbot)

Series and Periodicals BA BAIAS BASOR BAR BCBRL BF BTS CBQ CCSL CMCS CQ CSCO CSEL DOP EHR GCS HTR IEJ IR JbAC JC JECS

Biblical Archaeologist Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the Council for British Research in the Levant Byzantinische Forschungen Bible et Terre Sainte Catholic Biblical Quarterly Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina Cambridge Medieval Celtic Studies Classical Quarterly Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum Dumbarton Oaks Papers English Historical Review Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderte Harvard Theological Review Israel Exploration Journal Innes Review Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum Jerusalem Cathedra Journal of Early Christian Studies



Abbreviations

JEH JML JQR JTS LA MGH MRTS MUSJ NPNF PEFQSt PEQ PG PIBA PL PO POC PPTS RB RBib RBPH RMAL SC SCH SH SP SR STT TTH ZDPV

Journal of Ecclesiastical History Journal of Medieval Latin Jewish Quarterly Review Journal of Theological Studies Liber Annuus Monumenta Germanicae Historiae Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies Mélanges de l’Université St-Joseph Nicene and Post-Nicene Christian Fathers Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement Palestine Exploration Quarterly Patrologia Graeca Proceedings of the Irish Biblical Association Patrologia Latina Patrologia Orientalis Proche-Orient Chrétien Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society Revue Bénédictine. Revue Biblique Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire Revue de Moyen Age Latin Sources Chrétiennes Studies in Church History Subsidia Hagiographica Studia Patristica Sociological Review Studia Traditionis Theologiae Translated Texts for Historians Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins



CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION

lls feront bien, en tout cas, d’enregistrer un doute grave au compte d’Arculfe, jusqu’ à ce qu’un élément nouveau vienne un peu mieux les éclairer.1

1.1. Un élément nouveau The following study responds to the call for a new element in the discussion of Arculf and the two works that he subsequently inspired, the De locis sanctis texts of Adomnán and Bede.2 Questions regarding the authenticity of the seventh-century figure have been raised by scholars for a number of years, a position that has culminated in the work of Thomas O’Loughlin. The study seeks to illuminate and, consequently, to eliminate many of the lingering doubts. The question of Arculf, however, is only a secondary interest of the study. The élément nouveau introduced by the work facilitates an original discussion of the sources. The missing element in the study of Adls has been the lack of a proper topographical approach to the material, including the fact that the Arculf debate has taken place within a context in which the holy sites of Adls have not been accurately or adequately identified.

Chatillon (1967), 138. The abbreviations, Adls and Bdls, will be used respectively for Adomnán’s De locis sanctis and Bede’s De locis sanctis. The use of Adls provides a neutral reference to the text in light of the debate regarding the respective contributions of Arculf and Adomnán. 1 2



Introduction

1.2. Jerusalem Topography The Carta Jerusalem Atlas, which includes maps, images and commentary on various time periods of the city, is an invaluable scholarly repository of the city’s historical topography.3 The atlas, which incorporates a wide range of material and textual sources, provides a good example of how individual pieces of topographical information can be pieced together to form a composite map of the city for a given period in its history. This is a normative process for topographical research: to move from the parts to the whole. If the texts are sources for topographical information on Jerusalem, then the reverse is also true: our understandings of Jerusalem become resources for interpreting the texts. Knowledge of the city’s topography, derived from textual studies and archaeological findings, allows us to better understand the pilgrim sources, and a topographical analysis of a text, noting, for instance, its errors, omissions and distortions, is critical for understanding its images and idiosyncrasies. The present study proceeds from topography to text, which, in the case of the Christian pilgrim texts, is often a move from topography to theology. Throughout the book, the discussion navigates between the real topography of Jerusalem and the images of the Holy City depicted in the texts.

1.3. The Insular Perspective Interest in Jerusalem permeated the imagination of Western Christendom and the Insular world throughout the Early Medieval period. As the setting of the death and resurrection of Jesus, Jerusalem was the city of Christian salvation and was accordingly viewed as the centre of the world. The Holy City, influenced by biblical images of New Jerusalem, informed sacred architecture, art and liturgy in the West. Allusions to the city of God were ubiquitous: every chapel and cathedral threshold gave access to spiritual Jerusalem. The rhythms of the daily office meant that the scriptural imagination of a monk was never more than a couple of hours distant from the Holy Land. Monastic Europe lived in the New Jerusalems of their local landscapes, while casting an eye towards a distant, physical city, which, despite its contempo Bahat and Rubinstein (2011).

3

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Introduction

rary foreignness, was viewed in Christian terms. At once the historical stage of salvation and the setting of eschatological expectation, contemporary Jerusalem was a living witness to the truth of Christian revelation. The reports of returning pilgrims only reinforced such images of Jerusalem. Pilgrims brought back descriptions of how the sacred landscapes, holy sites and religious objects of the Holy Land were ordered, while transmitting the traditions and theologies of the Christian communities resident in the Holy City. The Jerusalem pilgrim at the heart of this study is Arculf, purportedly a bishop from Gaul. Insular Christians compared these reports with information on Jerusalem contained in older, written sources, which were often authored by recognized Christian authorities, such as Jerome and Augustine, and represented Christian scholarship stretching back to the early Church. The ancient source most central to the study is the fifth-century Letter to Faustus by Eucherius.4 Although the specific circumstances elude us, Adomnán (d. 704), the ninth abbot of Iona, was afforded the opportunity to compose a treatise on the holy places that made use of both oral and written sources.5 The balance was tipped in the favour of Arculf, whose report forms the core of Adomnán’s text. Within a few years of its composition, a copy of Adls found its way to Bede (d. 735), who used the opportunity to review the discourse.6 The redactional conversation was no longer between an oral source and a collection of library sources. Bede’s work was exclusively a textual exercise, in which he compared Adomnán’s work to his own collection of writings, including once again the Eucherius text. Bdls is the last of the study’s four interests after Arculf, Eucherius and Adomnán, and the line of transmission is particularly interesting in 4 Also known as the Epistula ad Faustum Presbyterum Faustus (Ep. Faust.) and De situ Hierusolymae. The designation, ‘Eucherius’, will be used throughout the study to denote both the text and the author. 5 The study accepts the dating of TOL (2007), 6: ‘the work was probably written between 679 and 688’. Along with references to the Muslim occupation of the Temple Mount–Noble Sanctuary and the historical figure of Mu’awiya, a late seventh-century dating reflects the topographical contents of the text. 6 On a visit to Northumbria, Adomnán presented a copy of Adls to King Aldfrith; cf. HE 5.15; Woods (2010a) and TOL (2007), 6 and 181-82. Bede made a twofold use of Adls: 1) Bdls and 2) the inclusion of four holy sites from Bdls in HE 5.16-17 (the church of the Nativity, the Holy Sepulchre, the church of the Ascension and the tombs of the Patriarchs).



Introduction

two respects: Adls is both a text and a source, and Adls and Bdls each make independent use of Eucherius. While Bede is aware of Adomnán’s use of Eucherius, he engages the fifth-century text on his own terms.7

1.4. Implications and Limitations Four points set the parameters of the study. First of all, the study is limited to the Jerusalem material of the respective texts.8 Secondly, the work takes a topographical approach to the material; the study is firmly grounded in the real topography of Jerusalem. Yet, thirdly, the study is less interested in what the texts tell us about the Holy Land than what the Holy Land can tell us about the texts. The study’s move from topography to text shifts attention from the real topography of Jerusalem to the images of the Holy City contained within the texts. Fourth, the study focuses upon the texts and does not examine its findings against the theological milieus of the respective authors. The study’s originality lies in its insights into the respective sources, the thoroughness of its methodological approach and its discussions of the interplay between topography and religious image.9 In clarifying the topographical elements of Adls, the book unlocks the theological images contained in the text, while establishing a template with which to analyze Adls’ respective relationships to Arculf, Eucherius and Bede.

See fig. 4. The writings of Eucherius, Adomnán and Bede each have unique characteristics and complexities. None of them are single-sourced accounts of the Holy Land. Eucherius establishes a pattern of supplementing a central source. Adomnán splices written texts into the detailed report of Arculf. Although Bdls is not an independent source on the Holy Land, its focus on commemorative topography is more pronounced and comprehensive than its two principal sources. 8 The Jerusalem material is defined as the material in Eucherius and Bdls that corresponds with Adls Book 1. 9 A scholarly bias has assumed that the pilgrim sources have been adequately proof-texted for their topographical contents, have largely yielded their spoils and have little left to say. While the lack of individual studies on the texts reveals a disinterest in the sources as subjects of their own, the fact that the texts have received little attention is revealed by the ample findings of the study. 7



Introduction

1.5. Scholars and Scholarship The study builds upon the scholarship of John Wilkinson and Thomas O’Loughlin.10 Their influence upon my research has been formative, and the book is an amalgamation of their respective approaches to the material. Wilkinson is the primary scholar of the Jerusalem pilgrim texts and has produced annotated translations of the pre-Crusader and Crusader sources, work that has updated the late nineteenth-century volumes of the Palestine Pilgrim Texts Society.11 While Wilkinson has assembled a significant amount of material, his research warrants a few remarks. First of all, he never makes a systematic study of the texts. Despite his familiarity with the material, his intertextual analyses are often weak and incomplete. He misses a number of common references while incorrectly identifying others. In short, his scholarship lacks a methodological framework.12 Secondly, while Wilkinson approaches the texts from a historical and topographical point of view, his work gives insufficient attention to theological concerns. Wilkinson does not adequately consider the commemorative narratives of the holy places, which is fundamental for understanding and identifying the sites. A third point relates to a general call for newly-annotated editions of Wilkinson’s work.13 In contrast to Wilkinson, O’Loughlin’s work in historical theology, including the concept of mental maps, has significant implications for understanding the Christian meaning of place and the religious imagi-

10 The study also builds upon my previous work on the Christian topography of Early Islamic Jerusalem. See the review of Aist (2009) in JMO (2010). 11 The translations of Wilkinson are used throughout the study. Wilkinson’s research also builds upon the work of previous scholars on pre-Crusader Christian Jerusalem, such as Vincent and Abel (1914). 12 For instance, Wilkinson associates the column of the Miraculous Healing and the Jephonias monument with the North Gate column of the Madaba Map. Cf. Adls 1.11 with JW (2002), 169, map 34 and VW 20 with JW (2002), 242, map 43. Moreover, Wilkinson’s suggestion that Adomnán’s church of Mary could be the Nea church (cf. Adls 1.4 with JW (2002), 365) and his assumption that Epiphanius’ house of Joseph is that of Joseph of Arimathea (cf. Hag. 4 with JW (2002), 208, 365 and 414) reveal the lack of a consistent, methodological approach to the material. The examples are discussed in ch. 4. 13 Wilkinson’s Jerusalem Pilgrims before the Crusades (1977 and 2002) is out of print. The structure of Egeria’s Travels, published in three editions (1971, 1981 and 1999), is fragmented and difficult to follow. Newly-annotated editions updating these works would benefit the Jerusalem scholar.



Introduction

nation of theological texts.14 O’Loughlin introduced me to Adls and the corpus of Jerusalem pilgrim texts, and if this study is successful in any respect, it is a tribute to O’Loughlin, the preeminent scholar on Adls, who equipped me with the resources to critique his work.15 Whereas O’Loughlin’s strength is the exegetical traditions of the Christian West, his work lacks an adequate perspective of Jerusalem. This is not necessarily a hindrance to his search for ‘echoes of patristic exegetical problems’ in Adls.16 His more categorical statements regarding Adls as exegetical manual, Adomnán as the author of a book of books and Arculf as literary fiction, however, demand a topographical comprehension of Adls and the corpus of post-Byzantine pilgrim texts that is critically absent from his work. The study brings together the pilgrim text material of Wilkinson with the theological perspectives offered by O’Loughlin, while providing the topographical analysis missing in their respective work.

1.6. Contents and Findings The principal discourse of the book is an original discussion of the pilgrim texts, concentrating on Eucherius, Adls and Bdls. A second conversation concerns the scholarly debate over Adls. While the debate is addressed within the body of the work, a considered critique of O’Loughlin’s research appears in the appendix.17 Following the introduction (ch. 1), the study begins with a chapter on the Jerusalem pilgrim texts (ch. 2), which argues that the genre is fundamentally defined by its core interest in the details of commemorative topography. The discussion lays out the study’s methodology by identifying the four components of topographical descriptions: commemoration, location, appearance and sequence. After emphasizing the utility of a composite template of Jerusalem for analyzing the texts, two additional criteria – commemorative credibility and religious imagina-

14 Cf. O’Loughlin’s works in the bibliography, including TOL (1996c) and (2007), 143-67. 15 O’Loughlin also encouraged me to explore the liturgical images in Adls as the subject of a MA thesis. 16 Cf. TOL (2007), xiii. 17 See appendix 2, which details the study’s position on Adls. The overlap of the two discourses necessitates some repetition of the material.



Introduction

tion – and the study’s approach to assessing textual images of Jerusalem round out the chapter. Chapter 3 provides a detailed summary of Eucherius’ account of the Holy City, highlighting aspects of the text that feature in the ensuing analyses of Adls and Bdls. Chapter 4, an analysis of Adomnán’s work, identifies Adls as a pilgrim text, espouses a hermeneutic of credibility concerning the text, and affirms Arculf as its central source. Indentifying the holy sites in Book 1, the chapter demonstrates that Adls’ account of the Holy Sepulchre and its description of intramural Jerusalem are one and the same. Adls achieves this by omitting the pool of Bethesda and placing Holy Sion outside the city walls. The Temple is depicted as past prologue. What emerges is a profound eschatological image of the Holy City: a foursquare city without a temple consisting only of the holy places of Christ, a veritable New Jerusalem of Revelation 21.18 Adls’ originality lies in its manipulation of real topography to create a theological representation of the city in which its image of Jerusalem is significantly greater than the sum of its parts. The methodology likewise confirms a post-Byzantine provenance for the commemorative sites described in the text, verifying the authenticity of Arculf as Adls’ contemporary, seventh-century source.19 While Adomnán makes sparing use of Ep. Faust., vestiges of Eucherius have a secondary influence upon Adls’ image of Jerusalem. Chapter 5 is an analysis of Bdls, a text that has received relatively little attention from modern scholars, due, on one hand, to the fact that the text is not an independent source for the Holy Land and, secondly, to the perception that it is an epitome of Adls. The new template of Adls provides a long-needed framework with which to examine Bede’s work. Two central observations emerge from the chapter. By correcting errors and adding omitted material, Bede dismantles Adls’ depiction of intramural Jerusalem as a walled city comprised solely of the holy sites of Christ, and, with it, he abandons Adls’ construct of the Holy City as New Jerusalem.20 While producing a more accurate depiction of the city, Bede’s straightforward approach to sacred topography lacks the theological acumen of Adls. Secondly, Eucherius, not Adls, is the authoritative text in Bdls. Although the overwhelming majority of its contents comes See fig. 8. While the study devotes separate chapters to Eucherius, Adls and Bdls, there is no separate chapter on the Arculf source material, which is addressed throughout the study and at length in appendices 1-2. 20 Cf. figs 8 and 10. 18 19



Introduction

from Adls, Bede cuts and pastes the material into Eucherius’ structure, while giving precedence to the substance, sequence and organizational principles of the fifth-century text. The evidence does not support the view of Bdls as an epitome of Adomnán’s work. While heavily reliant upon the contents of Adls, Bdls is an original text based upon Eucherius.21 The study’s conclusion is followed by three appendices. The first appendix discusses an annotated table listing correlations between Adls and the post-Byzantine sources (table 1), an argument in outline form that establishes the seventh-century provenance of its topographical material. Appendix 2, a critique of O’Loughlin and the Arculf debate, rejects his threefold position of Adls as exegetical manual, Adomnán as the composer of a book of books and Arculf as a figment of the abbot’s literary imagination. Appendix 3 looks briefly at the enigmatic figure of Peter of Burgundy, Arculf ’s guide in the Galilee.

1.7. Topographical Nomenclature It is important to identity a number of the terms and place names that will be used throughout the study.22 The ‘complex of the Holy Sepulchre’, or simply the Holy Sepulchre, denotes the Constantinian structures containing the sites of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, which were significantly destroyed in 1009.23 The term, Holy Sepulchre, is never used as a specific reference to the tomb of Christ. The main components of the Holy Sepulchre from east to west were 1) the basilica of Constantine, or the Martyrium, 2) the church of Calvary, or Golgotha, and 3) the Anastasis, or the Rotunda, respectively associated with the legend of See table 6. See figs 1-3. All dates refer to the common era unless otherwise stated. The primary eras used are the Byzantine (325-614), Inter-conquest (614-638) and Early Islamic periods (638-1099). The terms, post-Byzantine (614-1099) and Early Islamic, are used interchangeably in the study. The main distinction is that the study considers AG to be an Inter-conquest text and speculates that certain developments were made to the Christian topography of Jerusalem during the short period of Byzantine ascendency at the end of the Inter-conquest period. Therefore, the term, post-Byzantine period, is useful in marking the initial end of Byzantine hegemony in 614, while including the sources and topographical developments of the Inter-conquest period. The Hasmonean (167 bce-63 bce), Roman (63 bce-325) and Crusader periods (1099-1187) are occasionally mentioned in the book. 23 The sources do not contain a simple term for the complex. Adls 1.2.2, for instance, uses the phrase, ‘the amazing buildings in the holy place of the Cross and Resurrection’. On defining the Holy Sepulchre, see ch. 4.2, ‘The Complex of the Holy Sepulchre’. 21

22



Introduction

the Holy Cross, the crucifixion and the resurrection. Each pairing is synonymous with respect to space and location, and they are variously used by the sources, even within the same text. The study make free use of the terms. The reference in Adls 1.10 to a church within the Holy Sepulchre that contained a cloth made by Mary will be referred to as the church of Mary’s Weaving. The Marian church of Adls 1.4, located between the Anastasis and Golgotha and likely dedicated to Mary’s presence at the crucifixion, is simply identified as the church of Mary. The Marian church in the Jehoshaphat Valley will be referred to as the church of Mary’s Tomb.24 Contiguous with the site of Mary’s tomb was a natural cave associated with the Gethsemane events of Jesus’ betrayal and arrest.25 According to the pilgrim texts, it was also a place of meals between Jesus and the disciples, and there is evidence of an alternative tradition linking the cave with the Lord’s Supper. The grotto is mentioned in Adls but not in Bdls; it figures, though, in the discussion of both texts. Although Adls does not associate the cave either by name or commemoration with Gethsemane, the study will refer to the site as the grotto of Gethsemane. On the top of the Mt of Olives was a site that commemorated Jesus’ address to his disciples regarding the end of time.26 The study will identify the teachings as the Apocalyptic Discourse and the site as the Eleona, its original Byzantine name, which refers to its location on the Mt of Olives.27 The term, the Eleona, does not appear in the post-Byzantine sources, which variously refer to the site as ‘the spot where it is said the Lord addressed his disciples on the Mt of Olives’, ‘the place of teaching in which Christ taught the apostles’ and ‘the church were Christ taught his disciples’.28 The cumbersome phrases do not lend themselves as simple designations of the site, and the book consequently uses its historic name. The study will refer to the church as the ‘church of Mary’s Tomb’, while the tomb itself will be cited as ‘Mary’s tomb’ or the ‘tomb of Mary’ without a capital T. Capital letters are employed conservatively in the study and are not generally used for the events in the life of Christ, e.g., the annunciation and the crucifixion. They are used in the subjects of proper place names, such as the church of the Ascension and the church of Mary’s Tomb. 25 The traditional location of Jesus’ prayer was associated with the church of Gethsemane, the present-day site of the church of All Nations, which was a long stone’s throw away from the grotto. Cf. JMO (2008), 146-48. The site, mentioned in VW 21, does not figure in the study. 26 Cf. Mk 13; Mt 24-25 and Lk 21. 27 Today, the French Carmelite monastery on the site retains the name, Domaine de l’Eleona, or the sanctuary of the Eleona. 28 Cf.  Adls 1.25.1; Hag. 33 and Comm. 24. 24

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Introduction

Two monuments figure in the study. The first is the column of Adls 1.11, which is associated with two commemorations. While its connection with the centre of the world has garnered more scholarly attention, its primary memory was the second event of the Holy Cross legend, which describes the healing of a person through contact with the True Cross of Christ after its discovery by Helena. The study refers to the event as the Miraculous Healing and to the structure as the column, or the monument, of the Miraculous Healing.29 The other column is also associated with an extra-biblical legend, the dormition of Mary.30 According to legend, as the apostles were carrying the body of Mary from Holy Sion to her tomb in the Jehoshaphat Valley, the funeral procession was interrupted by a group of Jews, or an individual traditionally known as Jephonias, or Athonios, who attempted to seize her body. In doing so, their hands became glued to the funeral bier, while a swordbearing angel appeared, severing their hands. The confrontation ended with the conversion of the Jews and the continuation of the procession towards Mary’s tomb.31 During the post-Byzantine period, a structure commemorating the event stood outside the city’s eastern gate, which the study refers to as the Jephonias monument.

According to the legend of the Holy Cross, Helena (d. c. 330), mother of the emperor Constantine (d. 337), went to Jerusalem to discover the holy places of Christ and learned that the sites of Jesus’ passion were covered by a pagan sanctuary. When she pulled down the Roman temple, she found three wooden crosses, those of Christ and the two thieves crucified with him. While the entire legend is known as the finding, or invention, of the Holy Cross, the discovery of the crosses is the first of two events related to the story. Since the crosses were found with no identifying features, Helena was unable to determine which cross was the cross of Christ. The legend subsequently introduces a second event, the Miraculous Healing, in which Helena physically applied the three crosses to either a dead or mortally-ill person, who is miraculously restored to health when touched by the True Cross of Christ. In the Western version of the legend, the recipient of the healing is a young man; whereas in the East, it is a woman. There are slight variations in the setting of the Miraculous Healing, including a passing funeral procession and a nearby house. In each instance, the event occurs within the general, if not immediate, vicinity of the place where the crosses were originally discovered, that is, the subsequent area of the Holy Sepulchre. On the legend of the Holy Cross, see Borgehammar (1991). 30 Despite the theological doctrine of the dormition, or the ‘falling asleep’ of Mary, the early sources, including the pilgrim texts, speak in terms of her death. On the dormition narratives, see Shoemaker (1999). 31 The incident is frequently depicted in Orthodox icons of the Assumption, which shows the archangel Michael defending the corpse of Mary with a large sword. A single Jew kneels in submission, his severed hands still attached to the bier. 29

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Introduction

Finally, a word about the natural topography of Jerusalem.32 The city consists of three valleys. The Jehoshaphat Valley defines the city to the east. The Hinnom Valley wraps around the western and southern sides of the city, while the Tyropoeon Valley, or Central Valley, runs north to south through the centre of Jerusalem. The valleys define Jerusalem as a city consisting of two mountains that are most easily referred to as the Eastern Hill and the Western Hill. The Eastern Hill, delineated by the Jehoshaphat and Tyropoeon valleys, held the Temple site on its summit and the Old Testament city of David on its lower slopes, which included the spring of Siloam. The Eastern Hill is also identified with Mt Moriah in Jewish thought. The Western Hill is physically superior to the Eastern Hill in size and elevation. Although biblical Sion was originally located on the Eastern Hill, by the Christian period, Mt Sion was associated with the Western Hill, and each of the texts identifies Mt Sion with the summit of the Western Hill, the site of the church of Holy Sion.33 The image of Mt Sion and questions regarding its physical extent feature significantly in the analyses of the texts. Was Mt Sion synonymous with the entire Western Hill? Where was the northern boundary of Mt Sion, and did Mt Sion include the Holy Sepulchre? Did Mt Sion also include the Eastern Hill? Was the Temple on Mt Sion, or were they dislocated from each other? The subsequent analyses trace the topographical conflations, assumptions and ambiguities of the texts regarding the physical confines of Mt Sion.

See figs 1-3. While the term, Mt Sion, designates a mountain, Holy Sion refers to the church located on Jerusalem’s Western Hill. 32 33

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CHAPTER 2 THE JERUSALEM PILGRIM TEXTS

The principal sources for this study are the Jerusalem, or Holy Land, pilgrim texts from the Byzantine and Early Islamic periods.1 As a genre, the texts contain geographically-arranged descriptions of the holy places.2 The texts include short impersonal guides that were used by actual onthe-ground pilgrims, which are generally brief in contents. Since they do not follow the travels of a particular pilgrim, they commonly commence with Jerusalem.3 The corpus also contains biographical accounts and autographical reports highlighting individual pilgrims, such as Willibald and the Piacenza Pilgrim.4 The primary readership for these texts, which take various forms, including letters, treatises and poetry, were 1 The sources appear in various publications. Many of the Latin texts have been published in collections by Tobler (1874), Tobler and Molinier (1879) and Geyer (1898) and in Itineraria et alia Geographica (CCSL 175) from 1965. A thirteen-volume anthology of English translations of the texts covering multiple time periods was produced by the PPTS of London in the 1890s. The set was reprinted by AMS Press of New York in 1971. Many of the texts have been retranslated and annotated by John Wilkinson. Cf. JW (1988), (1999) and (2002). The present study focuses upon the texts and translations in JW (2002). 2 Although the study is specifically interested in the genre of pilgrim texts, information on the holy places appears in various sources, such as gazetteers, or geographical dictionaries (cf. Eusebius’ Onom. and Jerome’s Lib. Loc.), as well as sermons, calendars, lectionaries, letters and biblical commentaries. For a list of Holy Land sources, see JW (2002), 395-406. 3 Cf.  Brev. and AG. A number of Crusader-era impersonal guides appear in JW (1988). 4 The Vita Willibaldi, which records Willibald’s Holy Land experiences from the 720s, approximately four decades after the travels of Arculf, is important to the analysis of Adls. Although the VW was recorded by Hugeburc, who composed an introduction and conclusion to the text, ‘Willibald’ will be used as a reference to both the pilgrim and the text. On Willibald and the VW, see Aist (2009) and (2011).

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people ‘back home’ who did not have a firsthand acquaintance with Jerusalem.5 They are consequently more detailed than impersonal guides. Some texts were written by remote authors who had never set foot in the Holy Land, while a number of writings make use of multiple sources.6

2.1. Premises The study holds that contemporary, commemorative topography is the core interest and defining element of the genre.7 The texts recall events of the biblical past; yet, they describe the holy sites in their contemporary settings, or what was currently on the ground. Natural landscapes are sometimes mentioned; however, the sources are primarily concerned with landscapes of memory, describing how past events of the Christian faith were remembered. Some commemorations expressed eschatological expectations, while others were of cosmological importance, such as the centre of the world, which had theological associations with the death and resurrection of Christ. Pilgrim texts specifically detail the commemoration, location and physical appearance of the sacred places. Particular attention is often given to the commemorative focus of a holy place, the exact location where an event purportedly occurred. The texts identify churches and record the presence of religious objects, while ordering the Holy Land through descriptions of the spatial relationships between the sites and the sequencing of the material. The sources occasionally include infor5 Jerome, Ep. 108 and Eucherius, Ep. Faust. are examples of letters, while Sophronius’ Anacr. takes the form of a poetic first-person journey through the Holy City. 6 Adls and Bdls fall under both categories: remote writings incorporating multiple sources. Adomnán and Bede are likewise regarded as pilgrim writers. 7 A description of the genre also appears in appendix A2.4. Also see ch. 4.1, ‘Adls as Pilgrim Text’. The primary terms used in the study are commemorative topography, natural (or physical) topography, sacred topography and biblical geography. Although commemorative topography refers to all landscapes of memory, whether or not they have been developed as holy sites, the term mostly applies to the artificial development of the sacred places. Natural, or physical, topography refers to natural landscapes, such as hills, valleys, lakes and deserts. Developed holy sites also have an underlying physical topography, such as a cave, rock or mountain top. The study uses the term, sacred topography, to denote both commemorative and natural landscapes, while never excluding the former. Sacred topography is commonly used in the study as a variant phrase of commemorative topography. Biblical geography refers to the study of the biblical past, independent of commemorative topography and the contemporary holy places. The concept is only occasionally mentioned in the book. The complicated development of the Christian idea of the Holy Land is not discussed in the study; cf. Wilkin (1992).

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mation on the pilgrim practices and liturgical activities associated with the sites.8 The personal religious experiences of pilgrims are not commonly expressed. Commemorative topography was precisely what interested Christians most about the Holy Land, and the visitation of the holy places was the essential pilgrim experience. Pilgrims prayed, but they primarily observed, attending to the physical details of the sites. The contemporary features of the holy places likewise captured the imagination of those back home who had never set foot upon the sacred soil of the Holy Land. What readers wanted was a basic blueprint of Christian Jerusalem. The texts allowed Christians to formulate a mental map of the Holy Land while visualizing the individual holy places. Recalling the biblical stories of salvation and conjuring up images of New Jerusalem, the holy places assured Christians of God’s providence and the truth of Christian revelation. As such, the texts are important theological writings.9 Replete with scriptural images and eschatological nuance, the pilgrim texts focus upon the significance of place in the Christian faith.10 As the texts commonly contain secondary interests, the genre can be classified into different, often overlapping subcategories, such as travellogue, pilgrim literature and itinerary. Travellogues have connotations of exotic adventure tales, pilgrim literature is often associated with a pilgrim’s religious experience, and itineraries depict the specific routes

Pilgrim practices, which are distinct from the act of personal prayer and the formality of the corporate liturgy, are behaviors that allow pilgrims to engage in a specific narrative and, more generally, in the physical setting of a commemorative site. Examples include drinking water from Jacob’s Well (Adls 2.21), carrying the water pots of Cana (Itin. 4) and taking measurements of the holy places. 9 In recognizing commemorative topography as the defining characteristic of pilgrim texts, the study addresses a scholarly bias that has largely overlooked the obvious contents of the texts, shunned such particulars as altars, lamps, monuments and relics, and ignored pilgrim attention to measurements, material, size and number. Scholars have frequently viewed the writings as unsophisticated and theologically naïve. 10 Although the study affirms the relationship between Holy Land pilgrimage and Scripture, the texts’ attention to contemporary detail resists a simple identification between sacred topography and exegesis. Christian interest in the holy places went beyond a mere understanding of the biblical text; they were invested in the image of present-day Christian Jerusalem. While discussing the theological imagery of the individual texts, the study makes no attempt at a theology of the sacred places based upon its findings. However, the concept of the holy sites as sacrament, an idea akin to Christian revelation, warrants exploration. 8

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of a journey.11 Pilgrim texts may also contain miracle stories and sociopolitical references.12 The secondary interests of the texts have often captivated the modern reader. Whereas the topographical details come across as prosaic small print, the travel narratives grab the headlines. In the eighth-century VW, the reader is treated to a number of vignettes regarding the precarious adventures of pilgrim travels. Willibald suffered life-threatening hunger on the way to the Holy Land. Upon entering Syria, he was arrested and held prisoner by the Saracen authorities as a suspected spy. While making a circuit south of Jerusalem, he lost his eyesight only to be healed upon his return to the Holy City. During his way through Lebanon, he encountered a ravenous lion on the pathway, and he smuggled balsam out of the region at the risk of death.13 The stories have an element of entertainment as well as a didactic purpose that promotes perseverance as a virtue of the Christian life.14 The descriptions of the holy sites, however, are the ultimate focus of Willibald’s text.15

2.2. A Topographical Methodology The chapter outlines a topographical methodology that applies to the reading of individual texts, the analysis of multiple sources and the investigation of the holy sites.16 The chapter identifies the elements of topographical descriptions, provides a language for discussing the texts and 11 The study makes a distinction between the terms, pilgrim literature and pilgrim texts. Pilgrim literature is used here to specify a subcategory of pilgrim writings often identified with the personal adventures and religious experiences of an individual pilgrim. A classic example is Jerome’s description of Paula’s experience at the tomb of Christ (cf. Ep. 108.9.2). Descriptions of personal religious experience are not common in the pre-Crusader texts. 12 Given the theological nature of the genre, miracle stories may play an important role within the texts. By contrast, socio-political information is generally sparse, incidental and unreliable. 13 Cf.  VW 11; 12; 24-25 and 28. 14 Cf. Aist (2009), 252-55 and (2011), 191-94. While recognizing the didactic intent of the texts, the study defines the genre based upon its contents and not upon its purported purpose or subsequent use. The book accepts that Adls and Bdls were studied for their exegetical contents,among other theological pursuits. The texts themselves are characterized by their core interest in sacred topography. 15 While Willibald is the direct subject of VW, his status is a function of his personal knowledge of the holy sites, which is the ultimate interest of the text. 16 An abbreviated version of the methodology first appears in Aist (2008a) and (2009), esp. 2-5.

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applies the methods to numerous case studies. The discussion will familiarize readers with the contents of the pilgrim writings, what they say as texts and how they work as sources. After detailing the four components of topographical descriptions – commemoration, location, appearance and sequence – the utility of analyzing the sources against a composite template of Jerusalem will be addressed. The chapter discusses the criteria of commemorative credibility and religious imagination before concluding with the study’s approach to assessing textual images of the Holy City.

The Four Components of Topographical Descriptions Commemoration The first question of the methodology concerns the matter of commemoration. What subject – what event, person or theological idea – is being recognized? The most common type of commemoration is the memory of past events, namely biblical stories, Christian legends and historical events. While Old Testaments stories were remembered, the core commemorations were events in the life of Christ.17 Christians commemorated legendary events as well as theological ideas.18 The holy sites beckoned pilgrims into the biblical past, while evoking eschatological expectation. The past, present and future were simultaneously at play, particularly at the tomb of Christ and the place of the Ascension. Since the biblical narratives were shared knowledge, commemorative references are often limited to a single phrase or place name. Sites are commonly introduced by a formulaic phrase that identifies a place with its narrative importance: ‘the place where such-and-such happened’. Adls describes ‘the place where the Lord’s Cross was placed on a dead young man, and he came to life’, the ‘place where, in despair, Judas Iscariot hanged himself and perished’, and the ‘holy, venerable spot at

17 Certain topographical locations were layered with multiple narratives. The Old Testament commemorations of the tomb of Adam and the altar of Abraham, associated in the Christian imagination with Calvary, were located on the same grounds as the crucifixion. The Jordan River was the common setting for the ministries of Elijah and John the Baptist (cf. Itin. 9). 18 Important non-biblical stations included the death of Mary, Helena’s finding of the Holy Cross and Mary the Egyptian’s encounter with the icon of the Theotokos. On Mary the Egyptian, see Sophronius, Vita Sanctae Mariae Aegyptiacae (PL 73), 67190. The centre of the world was a theological idea associated with Jerusalem as the place of Christian salvation. The tomb of Adam commemorated the doctrine of atonement.

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which the Lord was baptized by John’.19 Many holy sites are referred to or named by their commemoration, such as the church of the Nativity and the place of the Ascension. In other cases, the narrative is implied through the use of a biblical place name. Jacob’s Well evokes the story of the Samaritan Woman, while the pool of Bethesda recalls Jesus’ healing of the Paralytic.20 A reference to Golgotha, or Calvary, was sufficient to indicate Christ’s crucifixion. While short references are the norm, texts occasionally elaborate upon the details of the story. After identifying the place ‘where the patriarch Abraham set up the altar’, Adls adds that he ‘arranged a pile of wood on it and took up his drawn sword to sacrifice Isaac his son’.21 The presence of two symbolic columns at the church of the Ascension led Willibald to mention the men in white who appear in the narrative.22 Texts, reflecting on-the-ground traditions, sometimes added details not found in the biblical stories. The unnamed tree of Judas was a fig tree; Jesus was born in a cave.23 Gethsemane was a place of shared meals between Jesus and his disciples.24 Pilgrim tradition tended to expand rather than restrict. Even so, the tradition sought a harmonized landscape, and the texts show little concern for the discrepancies that occur in the commemorative narratives.25 Extra-biblical legends, particularly the end of Mary’s life and the legend of the Holy Cross, were essential components of the sacred landscape. Since the legends were less known than the biblical stories, the narratives are sometimes explained in the sources. Describing a column marking an event that transpired during Mary’s funeral procession, Willibald states that:

Adls 1.11.2; 1.17 and 2.16.1. Cf. Jn 4 and 5. 21 Cf.  Adls 1.6.2 with Gen 22. 22 Cf.  VW 21 with Act 1:11. 23 On the tree of Judas, compare Adls 1.17 with Hag.10. On the cave setting of Jesus’ nativity, cf. Adls 2.1. Also see TOL (2007), 229-33 and TOL (2017), which discusses the second-century tradition of the nativity cave in the Protoevangelium of James. 24 Cf.  DSTS 10; Adls 1.15 and It. Bern.13. 25 Pilgrim tradition had to address certain scriptural discrepancies, such as the location of Rachel’s tomb and the means of Judas’ death. While pilgrim uncertainty regarding place and narrative is generally not expressed in the texts, exceptions do occur. Adls 1.12.3 expresses uncertainly over the mystery of Mary’s assumption. In Bdls 7.4, Bede approaches the question of David’s tomb from the perspective of a biblical exegete. 19

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As the eleven apostles were carrying the body of Saint Mary and taking it down from Jerusalem, the moment they reached the city gate, the Jews wanted to take it away. But any one of them who reached out to take hold of the bier found that his arms were trapped and stuck to the bier as if they had been glued to it. They could not pull them free till, by the grace of God and the prayers of the apostles, they had been released. Then [the Jews] left them alone.26

Epiphanius likewise describes the healing that subsequently followed Helena’s discovery of the True Cross: Helena ‘met the funeral procession of the maiden [who] was placed against the three crosses, and [the maiden] spoke when it was the cross of the Lord’.27 The two legends also reflect the pilgrim tendency to commemorate multiple events of a single narrative, and, consequently, to mark multiple locations upon the landscape. Helena’s initial discovery of the Holy Cross and the subsequent Miraculous Healing were both recognized.28 Three events – and three separate locations – marked the end of Mary’s life: her death, the Jephonias incident and her burial.29 In Bethlehem, the place where Mary gave birth and the manger where the Christ child was subsequently laid were both pointed out.30 Multiple events from Jesus’ passion were likewise remembered as separate pilgrim stations. It is important, therefore, not to confuse distinct commemorations that are sourced from a common narrative. Holy Sion and the Jehoshaphat Valley were not competing sites regarding the death of Mary. They commemorated two separate events of a single narrative: Mary died on Holy Sion and was buried in the Jehoshaphat Valley. The texts, though, can be confused and imprecise. Willibald and Daniel the Abbot each refer to the place of the Miraculous Healing in terms of Helena’s finding of the Holy Cross.31 Although the majority of holy places commemorate events, tombs represent an unique category of commemoration. Tombs recall the heroes and villains of Scripture, while those of certain monastic figures,

Cf.  VW 20 in JW (2002), 243. Hag. 4. 28 Cf.  Brev. A1 and Brev. B1 (the finding of the Holy Cross) with Brev. B2 (the Miraculous Healing). 29 Cf.  VW 20-21. 30 Cf.  Adls 2.2. 31 Cf.  VW 18 and 25; WB 15. 26 27

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namely, Jerome and Sabas, became recognized pilgrim sites.32 Tombs were a physical witness to the person’s entire life, through the specific events relating to a person’s death and burial may be particularly remembered. Tombs, above all, were physical expressions of theological ideas. The tomb of Adam at the base of Calvary commemorated human redemption, while the tombs of Christ and Lazarus proclaimed belief in Christian resurrection.33 Tombs significantly fostered the eschatological dimension of pilgrimage. A site’s commemoration is usually easy to recognize in the texts. Occasionally, though, the identification is not obvious. In his description of the Holy Sepulchre, Epiphanius refers to a certain ‘house of Joseph’. Which Joseph is being referred to, and what exactly did the house of Joseph commemorate? According to Vincent and Abel and followed by Wilkinson, the person was Joseph of Arimathea, who provided his tomb for the burial of Jesus.34 The Joseph in question is actually the husband of Mary, and the house commemorates Christ’s annunciation.35 Epiphanius’ house of Joseph was part of a Marian focus associated with the eastern end of the Holy Sepulchre,36 and the house is the same as the church of Mary’s Weaving mentioned in Adls 1.10. As will be elucidated below, the criteria of commemoration, location and sequence as well as a general knowledge of Jerusalem traditions clarify an otherwise obscure and mistakenly-identified reference in the pilgrim sources. Location The second component of topographical descriptions is location. Where was the commemorative site located? Where was it situated with respect to other holy places? Holy sites are described in terms of their spatial relations to other places through the use of distances, cardinal directions, Cf.  Adls 2.14 (Jerome) and VW 23 (Sabas). On the tomb of Adam at Calvary, see ch. 4.2, ‘Golgotha’. Also see Aist (2009), 116-17. 34 Cf. Vincent and Abel (1914), 226 and JW (2002), 208, 365 and 414. Also see Mk 15:43-46; Lk 23:50-53 and Jn 19:38-42. 35 Cf. Aist (2009), 73-75 and 96-98. A Jerusalem tradition recorded in the secondcentury Protoevangelium, or The Infancy Gospel of James, sets Mary’s early life, including the annunciation, in the city of Jerusalem. Cf. Proto. 7-11 with Lk 1:26-38. 36 Cf.  Itin. 20, which refers to an icon, girdle and headband of Mary in the basilica. The icon of the Theotokos, associated with Mary the Egyptian and located on or near the front façade of the basilica, became a well-known pilgrim station in the Holy Sepulchre. Cf. Hag. 4; WB 15. 32 33

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prepositions of place and direction, and relative directions.37 The discussion also addresses the questions of duplicate sites and commemorative translations. The section concludes with a look at how pilgrim tradition dealt with biblical discrepancies. One way that texts locate holy sites is through the use of distances.38 Bethlehem was six miles from Jerusalem; Hebron was twenty-two miles from Jerusalem, and Jericho was situated eighteen miles from the Holy City.39 Adls states that the Hill of Mamre was one mile from the tombs of the Patriarchs, while Mt Tabor was three miles from the Sea of Galilee.40 According to Willibald, Gilgal was five miles from the place of Jesus’ baptism; Jericho was more than seven miles from the Jordan River.41 Distances are also used to describe sites within the Holy City. According to AG, the Martyrium was twenty ells from the Anastasis, while the Anastasis was ten paces from the church of Golgotha.42 The church of Holy Sion was one stade from the Holy Sepulchre.43 Two hundred and fifty steps led from the Jephonias monument to the tomb of Mary, while another eight hundred steps led up to the place of the Ascension.44 The Piacenza Pilgrim measured eighty paces between the tomb of Christ and Golgotha, while Golgotha was fifty paces from the place of the Holy Cross in the basilica of Constantine.45 Assuming that the unit of measurement is understood, distances describe a precise linear relationship between two places; yet, on their own, they lack two-dimensional orientation. Pilgrim texts occasionally measure journeys by time. It took 37 While individual texts employ multiple types of locational information, they often favour a particular form or forms. AG utilizes a number of left-right directions; it also employs distances. Adls, which consistently favours cardinal directions, contains only six left-right references in its account of Jerusalem. Cf. Adls 1.2.12; 1.4; 1.12.2; 1.14 and 1.16. 38 The difficulty of distances for the modern reader is understanding the accurate measurement of the unit being specified, such as miles, ells, stades and paces, cited below. Even a commonly named unit, such as a mile, has various historical standards. When exact modern equivalences are unclear, comparative distances between sites can be determined if a text cites multiples distances by the same unit. Textual translations, including English versions of the bible, often translate distances from historical units to modern measurements with various degrees of accuracy. 39 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 11-13; repeated in Bdls 7.1; 8.1 and 9.1. 40 Adls 2.11.1 and 2.27.1. 41 VW 17. 42 AG 2-3. 43 AG 4. 44 AG 7. 45 Itin. 19-20.

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Arculf not less than eight days to travel from the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea (Adls 2.20.6), while the journey from Mt Tabor to Damascus took seven days (Adls 29.4). More often, pilgrim texts describe sojourns by time and journeys by distance. A second way that texts locate sites is through cardinal, or absolute, directions. Cardinal directions are common in descriptions of the Holy Sepulchre; the physical design of the complex led pilgrims entering from the east to move towards the tomb of Christ in a westerly direction. Eucherius indicates that Golgotha and the Anastasis were respectively west of the basilica of Constantine.46 Adls, which describes the sites in reverse order, indicates that Calvary was east of the tomb of Christ, while the basilica of Constantine was east of Calvary.47 The entrance of the tomb of Christ faced east, while the interior burial bench was on its northern side.48 Inside the Rotunda housing the tomb, altars were located to the south, the north and the west. The building had eight large doors on its eastern side, four to the north and four to the south. The relative position of most major sites could be identified by their cardinal directions from the Holy Sepulchre, which was located in the middle of the city. Holy Sion was to the south; the pool of Bethesda, the tomb of Mary and the Mt of Olives were to the east. Pilgrim direction was further reinforced by the eastern orientation of Jerusalem’s churches.49 The city walls corresponded to the cardinal points, while the three valleys of Jerusalem follow true directions.50 The use of cardinal directions, which can always refer to small-scale distances, is unrelated to the proximity of the respective objects. The point is relevant to the column of Adls 1.11, which was ‘north of the holy places’. While scholars have erroneously located the column at the city’s North Gate, Adls’ description merely indicates that the column was north of the central east-to-west axis of the Holy Sepulchre that included the tomb of Christ, Calvary and basilica of Constantine, a designation that is more obvious and less technical than it may seem. Third, texts describe sites using prepositions of place and direction. Sites are ‘in’, ‘on’, ‘at’, ‘near’, ‘beside’, ‘between’, ‘above’ and ‘below’ other Cf.  Ep. Faust. 6. Cf.  Adls 1.5.1 and 1.6.1. 48 Cf.  Adls 1.2. 49 The western orientation of the basilica of Constantine, which faced the tomb of Christ, was unique among the churches of Jerusalem. 50 The Jehoshaphat and Tyropoeon valleys run roughly north to south; the Hinnom Valley runs south before making a ninety-degree turn to the east. 46 47

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sites. Eucherius describes the site of the former Temple as ‘in the lower city near the eastern wall’ and ‘beside the east wall of Jerusalem’.51 Adls describes a cave that was ‘above the Church of Saint Mary on the Mt of Olives’, while Epiphanius locates the tomb of Adam ‘beneath the Crucifixion’.52 The intended meaning of prepositions is not always easy to interpret. For instance, ‘above’ and ‘below’ may indicate that something is respectively over or underneath something else, such as the upper and lower levels of the church of Mary’s Tomb in the Jehoshaphat Valley.53 The terms may likewise denote relative elevation along a slope or hillside. The grotto of Gethsemane was not directly over the church of Mary’s Tomb but was slightly uphill from it. Epiphanius describes a structure commemorating the Miraculous Healing as ‘below’ (katōthen) the house of Joseph. Wilkinson, identifying the house of Joseph with an upper gallery in the basilica of Constantine, wrongly presumes that the structure was inside the basilica.54 It was an outdoor monument that was lower than the house of Joseph but not underneath it.55 Whereas distances, cardinal directions and most prepositions of place refer to a static relationship between objects, relative directions, namely, left-right references, describe locations from the perspective of the source and remain effective as long as the text’s orientation, which may change throughout the course of an account, is properly understood. Relative directions are particularly useful with respect to entrances and intersections. According to Willibald, the burial bench of Christ was inside the tomb ‘on the right side as one enters the tomb to pray’.56 Paula ‘passed on her left the tomb of Helena, Queen of Adiabene,’ as she entered Jerusalem.57 Since we know the location of Helena’s tomb, the so-called tomb of the Kings, we can follow Paula’s northerly entry into the city.58 Depending upon the clarity of the text, the degree to which the referenced landmarks are known and the reader’s familiarity with the Ep. Faust. 7 and 9. Adls 1.15.1; Hag.2. 53 Cf.  Adls 1.12. 54 Cf. JW (2002), 365. 55 See chs 2.2, ‘Applying the Four-Fold Methodology’ and 4.2, ‘The Column of the Miraculous Healing’. 56 VW 18. 57 Jerome, Ep. 108: 9.1. 58 Cf. JMO (2008), 158-59. 51

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city’s topography, the use of relative directions provides, at best, a virtual walkthrough of the sites; at worse, they read as a mere list of sites. According to AG, ‘on the right side of the church [of Holy Sion] is the Upper Room … And on the right side of Holy Sion stands the palace of Pilate … and to the left of Holy Sion is the dungeon where they imprisoned Christ’.59 Epiphanius similarly employs an abundance of left-right directions in his description of Mt Sion: On the right of the Tower [of David] is the Pavement, a church were Judas betrayed the Lord. And to the right of the pavement is Holy Sion, the House of God. And at the great door on the left is the place where the Holy Apostles carried the body of the most holy mother of God after her departure. And at the right part of the same door is the venthole of the Gehenna of Fire … to the right side of the altar is the Upper Room … Outside the city on the right [is where] Peter went out and wept bitterly. And to the right of [Holy Sion] is the pool of Siloam … And on the right of it is the Potter’s Field … And on the right of it are the pear trees on which Judas hanged himself.60

While the two accounts can be followed to some degree, they contain a number of unknown and imprecisely-identified locations. The shifting orientations of the texts are easily lost, while the descriptions becomes little more than a litany of sites. Relative directions can be difficult to follow, and, in most instances, cardinal directions are more effective. If the orientation of a description is known, then absolute directions can be calculated from left-right references. The burial bench was on the north, or to the right, as one entered the tomb of Christ.61 Since Epiphanius’ account of the Holy Sepulchre moves in a easterly direction towards the basilica of Constantine, the icon of the Theotokos and the house of Joseph, both ‘on the left side’ of basilica, were to the north.62 Epiphanius’ monument of the Miraculous Healing was also to the left, or north, of the basilica of Constantine, which agrees with Adls’ description of the column as north of the holy places.63 We can usually follow relative descriptions that appears in the context of churches, since, with the exception of the basilica of Constantine, they were oriented to the AG 4-5. Hag. 6-10 in JW (2002), 208-09. 61 Cf.  VW 18. 62 Hag. 2-4. 63 Cf.  Hag. 4 and Adls 1.11. 59

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east. The Upper Room was located on the southern side of Holy Sion as it was on the right as one faced the altar.64 Duplicate and Translated Sites The discussion of location raises the question of duplicate sites. Were commemorations ever recognized in more than one place? Were competing locations and alternative sites a part of the pilgrim landscape? Duplicate commemorations were relatively uncommon during the Early Islamic period,65 and the same holy sites were recognized by the various Christian communities.66 There were exceptions. A Jerusalem-based tradition placed Christ’s annunciation in the Holy City in opposition to the Lucan narrative set in Nazareth.67 The grotto of Gethsemane had associations with the Lord’s Supper despite the well-established tradition locating the event at Holy Sion.68 When two sources refer to different commemorative locations, it can be difficult to determine whether there were two concurrent locations or if the commemoration moved between the dates of the respective texts. In the pre-Crusader period, more than one tree was identified with Judas’ suicide,69 while the portico of Solomon was associated with two different structures.70 The texts make three distinct references to the centre of the world, each located, though, within the Holy Sepulchre.71 There was a slight tendency to translate commemorations beyond Jerusalem to the Holy City, which allowed pilgrims better access Hag. 7. Methodologically, one should begin with the assumption that descriptions of the same commemoration refer to a mutual location and then weigh the evidence for exceptions. It is also important to distinguish between duplicate sites of the same commemoration and distinct commemorations that stem from the same narrative. 66 This is evidenced by the recognition of common sites by both Eastern and Western pilgrim texts; also see ch. 2.2, ‘Sequence’. 67 Cf. Lk 1:26-38. On the Jerusalem-based tradition of Christ’s annunciation, see Proto. 7-11; cf. Adls 1.10 and Hag. 4. 68 Cf.  DSTS 10. Theodosius’ description of the cave refers to Jesus’ washing of the disciples’ feet. The possibility that the grotto was remembered in terms of the footwashing (cf. Jn 13), while Holy Sion was only associated with the meal can be dismissed as Sophronius locates both events at Holy Sion; cf. Anacr. 55-62. Both sites commemorated both the Synoptic Passover meal and the Johannine footwashing. 69 The Piacenza Pilgrim (Itin. 17) refers to a tree trunk outside the East Gate, while Adls 1.17 and Hag. 10 place the tree in the Hinnom Valley. 70 Cf.  Itin. 23 and VW 19. Also see Aist (2009), 156-60. 71 Cf.  Anacr. 20.29-32; Adls 1.11 and It. Bern.11. 64 65

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to certain scriptural memories. While Jerusalem was an alternative setting for Christ’s annunciation, the Mt of Olives assumed connotations of a second Galilee. The Bordeaux Pilgrim associates the Transfiguration with the Mt of Olives,72 and by the Crusader period, the Eleona, which originally commemorated Jesus’ Apocalyptic Discourse, recalled Christ’s teaching of the Lord’s Prayer, an event that took place in the Galilee according to Matthew.73 When places were destroyed (e.g., by earthquake or adversary), did memory persist on the ruins, or were the commemorations relocated? Damage and deterioration occasionally caused a site to move. The church of Holy Wisdom, which commemorated Jesus’ trial before Pilate, was presumably destroyed in the Persian Conquest of 614 and never rebuilt. Post-Byzantine texts locate Pilate’s palace elsewhere on Mt Sion.74 The pool of Bethesda suffered significant siltation until the commemoration was moved at least by the early Crusader period to the nearby pool of Israel.75 On the other hand, the resiliency of place and memory is expressed in the early Crusader text of Daniel the Abbot, which surveys the ruins of the basilica of Constantine, destroyed in 1009. Despite significant destruction to the complex, pilgrim memory remained fixed to the site.76 Overall, the Christian topography of Early Islamic Jerusalem retained a strong continuity with its Byzantine past, while its legacy was largely intact in the early Crusader period. Although alternative traditions and translated sites existed, the correspondence of commemoration is a strong indicator that the sources are referring to the same location. Biblical Descriptions of Location What does the biblical text tell us about the presumed location of a holy site? First of all, most biblical place names, in and of themselves, do not convey actual information regarding their respective locations. To recognize Golgotha as the place of the crucifixion or Gethsemane as the place of Jesus’ arrest is not the same as knowing their locations. Sec Cf.  It. Burg. 595-96. This was due to a conflation of Lk 10:38-11:1-4 with Mk 11:12-25; cf. Mt 6:9-15. Also seeJMO (2008), 143-44. Remembering biblical stories beyond Jerusalem while based in the Holy City was encouraged by the fact that the Dead Sea and the Jordan River Valley could be seen from the summit of the Mt of Olives; cf. Adls 2.20.6. 74 Cf.  AG 5; Hag. 8. 75 Cf. Aist (2009), 148-56. See the twelfth-century Cambrai Map in Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 114. 76 Cf.  WB 15, which is quoted later in the chapter. 72 73

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ondly, Scripture contains locational references that are assumed by the pilgrim texts. Gethsemane was a cultivated place on the Mt of Olives across the Kidron Valley from Jerusalem.77 The tomb of Lazarus, located in Bethany, was two miles from Jerusalem.78 Third, discrepancies in the scriptural accounts forced pilgrim tradition to make physical choices. Scripture states that the place of the Ascension was on the Mt of Olives, but ‘as far as Bethany’ (Luke) is beyond ‘a Sabbath’s day journey away’ (Acts).79 Christian tradition ultimately chose the summit of the Mt of Olives overlooking Jerusalem, which was merely on the way to Bethany. The Scriptures place Rachel’s tomb in two distinct locations, respectively to the north and south of Jerusalem. 1 Sam 10:2 locates the tomb in the territory of Benjamin at Zelzah. According to Gen 35:19-20, Rachel was ‘buried on the way to Ephrath (that is, Bethlehem)’.80 It fell to pilgrim tradition to resolve the dilemma. Would two sites be identified, or would one of the locations become dominant? Pilgrim preference fell squarely with the Bethlehem tradition. Aceldama and the tree of Judas provide a third example of how pilgrim tradition dealt with biblical variance. In Act 1:18-19, the only explicit reference to Aceldama, a field is purchased by Judas, which subsequently becomes the place of his death resulting from a headlong fall. In Mt 27:5-8, the chief priests purchase the field, and Judas dies elsewhere by a different cause – suicide by hanging – though a tree is never mentioned. Matthew, in other words, refers to two places: the field purchased by the chief priests and an unknown location where Judas committed suicide by hanging. It fell to Jerusalem tradition not only to identify the location of Aceldama but to determine the place and means of Judas’ death.81 The Matthean version became commemoratively dominant. Though they differ on the details, the Piacenza Pilgrim, Adls and

Cf. Mt 26:30-36; Lk 22:39; Mk 14:26-32 and Jn 18:1. Jn 11:18. 79 Cf. Lk 24:50 and Act 1:12. Found only in Act 1:12, a Sabbath day’s journey refers to the distance that a Jew could travel on a Sabbath without transgressing Ex 16:29. The rabbinically-determined limit was 2000 cubits from one’s domicile, which was derived from Jos 3:4, a verse that established the requisite space between the Israelite people and the tabernacle during their sojourn in the wilderness. 80 Cf. Gen 48:7. 81 Neither Matthew nor Acts provides any details regarding the location of Aceldama. Pilgrim tradition placed it above the southern escarpment of the Hinnom Valley. Adls 1.19 describes the site as ‘on the southern side of Mt Sion’. Cf. JMO (2008), 136-37. 77 78

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Epiphanius each identify the tree of Judas, while Adls specifically states that Judas committed suicide by the act of hanging.82 Fourth, pilgrim tradition occasionally went against the biblical witness. While some discrepancy between place and Scripture was permitted in order to provide pilgrims with the opportunity to remember certain biblical narratives whose physical settings were less accessible, the alternative tradition of the Lord’s Supper in the grotto of Gethsemane contravened scriptural references to the event taking place inside the city. Thus, for various reasons, certain holy sites were not located where the original event presumably occurred. If the biblical authenticity of the holy places is in doubt, then what use are scriptural references for describing the sites? Do the pilgrim texts rely upon biblical information that does not correspond to the sites they are describing? While the questions are justifiably raised, the issue has, at best, a negligible effect upon the texts.83 How pilgrim tradition dealt with discrepancies in the scriptural narrative is far more relevant than biblical descriptions of place and the ‘inauthenticity’ of certain holy sites. Appearance The third element of topographical descriptions is appearance. The question now moves from what happened (commemoration) and where it was remembered (location) to how the site looked (appearance). In doing so, the time frame moves from the past (commemoration) to the present (appearance).84 The component of appearance comprises the details of the commemorative landscape. What were the physical attributes of the site? Were there natural features, such as a mountain, rock or river? What had been built at the site? Was there a church or a commemorative focal point? What was the size and physical attributes of the structure? Were there columns, crosses, altars or lamps? Did the site possess religious objects, and, if so, were there any distinguishing details? If there was a tomb, how was it decorated? Cf.  Itin. 17; Adls 1.17, 19; Hag. 10. While the Byzantine text places the tree outside the East Gate, the Early Islamic sources locate it in the Hinnom Valley south or southwest of the city. 83 The issue is largely irrelevant to firsthand descriptions of the holy places and relates more to remote authors using Scripture to supplement their accounts. 84 While the pilgrim texts point out places and objects associated with the scriptural narrative, they do not describe a biblical past. Willibald’s description of the pool of Bethesda (VW 19), which depicts the biblical scene of Jn 5:4 in the present tense, provides a rare example of the blurring of the scriptural past with the commemorative present. 82

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Pilgrim texts use simple adjectives to describe the holy places. Adls depicts the Anastasis as a ‘very large church’, while the aedicule housing the tomb of Christ was a ‘small building’.85 The centre of the world was marked by a ‘very tall column’, while more than one church is noted for its ‘remarkable round’ shape.86 Descriptions of the holy sites also include references to colour and material. The rock of the tomb of Christ was a mixture of red and white.87 The relic of Mary’s weaving was red and green.88 The head cloth of Jesus was made of linen; the Lord’s chalice was silver.89 The altar of Abraham was a large wooden table, while the large circular railing at the place of the Ascension was made of bronze.90 The Anastasis was ‘entirely made of stone’ and rested upon twelve columns of ‘remarkable size’.91 The aedicule was covered with marble, while its exterior roof was decorated with gold.92 The texts describe number, sizes and measurements. Willibald speaks of three wooden crosses and fifteen golden lamps in the Holy Sepulchre, while AG notes twelve columns in the upper and lower galleries of the Anastasis.93 The Piacenza Pilgrim describes the pilgrim practice of measuring the holy sites as a form of blessing.94 Arculf measured the tomb of Christ ‘with his hand and found it to be seven feet long’; it was the length of ‘one person lying on his back’.95 The ceiling of the tomb was one and a half feet higher than the height of an average man.96 The step between the floor of the aedicule and the chamber of the tomb was the height of three palms.97 The criterion of appearance also applies to religious objects, such as the Lord’s chalice in the Holy Sepulchre. According to AG, ‘Christ’s cup [was] Adls 1.2.3 and 1.2.6. Adls 1.11.1. On the round churches of Jerusalem, see Adls 1.2.3; 1.12.1 and 1.23.1; cf. TOL (1996a). 87 Adls 1.3.2. 88 Adls 1.10.2. 89 Adls 1.9.2 and 1.7.2. 90 Adls 1.6.2 and 1.23.6. 91 Adls 1.2.3-4. 92 Adls 1.2.7. 93 VW 18; AG 1. 94 Itin. 22-23. 95 Adls 1.2.10-11. 96 Adls 1.2.6. 97 Adls 1.2.8. 85

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covered with gold’.98 Epiphanius states that ‘the cup from which Christ drank … is like a chalice of emerald plainly set’.99 Adls provides the most detail: the chalice ‘is a silver cup; it holds a French quart, and it is designed with a pair of handles, one on each side’.100 Its decorative elegance as well as pilgrim interest in noting its details emphasizes the importance of the relic. Since commemorative topography is the core interest of the pilgrim texts, attention to appearance accompanies most descriptions of the holy sites.101 However, the length and quality of the accounts vary significantly from site to site and from text to text.102 The interpretation of the material can be uncertain, while specific details are often hard to corroborate. When two texts describing mutual commemorations at the same location differ with respect to the physical features of the site, the pertinent question is whether the texts are describing the same site in different and perhaps inaccurate terms or whether the site has undergone a physical alteration.103 Given the subjective nature of the descriptions as well as their often sparse and imprecise details, the assertion of a physical change at a site based merely upon the pilgrim texts can be difficult to sustain. Similarly, one should not assume that a later description containing less details of a holy site indicates that the physical site has been diminished. Historical events and archaeological findings may inform the question. However, general information about Jerusalem has often been applied to the status of an individual holy site without conclusive evidence. Even if the assumptions are correct, they can be hard to verify.

AG 1. Hag. 3; cf. JW (2002), 208, nt. 2. 100 Adls 1.7.2. 101 The physical description of a site is generally longer than the commemorative and locational details. Yet, despite their interest in commemorative topography, pilgrim texts are not overly verbose. Pilgrim texts written for a home community normally provide more details on the holy sites than impersonal pilgrim guides do. 102 Cf. Adls 1.12.1-5 and VW 21. Although Willibald is occasional verbose in his descriptions of the holy sites, he provides no information on the physical features of the church of Mary’s Tomb except that it ‘contains her tomb’. By contrast, Adls describes the church in significant detail. What accounts for the differing approaches? Why do the physical features of the church capture the imagination of Arculf more than Willibald? The unevenness of the material relates to the principle of religious imagination discussed later in the chapter. 103 Destruction to the holy sites were caused by earthquake, fire, riots and foreign adversaries. They were likewise enhanced, restored and renovated, often through imperial patronage. On earthquakes in Palestine during the pre-Crusader period, see Russell (1985), Kallner-Amiran (1950-1) and Willis (1928). 98

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Divergent details do not, in and of themselves, rule out the possibility that the texts are referring to the same entity. How an object is described in one language may differ from how it is rendered in another language, and it is important to understand that the primary task of verifying the pilgrim sources is not to determine what was actually on the ground but to corroborate the textual material. The monument of the Miraculous Healing provides a model example of how divergent descriptions of physical appearance may be reconciled.104 While Adls describes the column of the Miraculous Healing as a ualde summa columna, Epiphanius refers to the monument as a tetrakoinin, or a structure with four columns.105 Although the descriptions are referring to a columned structure, the accounts appear to be irreconcilable. Did the structure have one column or four? Is one of the texts inaccurate or imprecise? Does the more specific description of Epiphanius carry weight, and, if so, how could Arculf describe a four-columned structure as a single column? If the texts are describing the same structure, how can the physical features of the monument be reconciled? In short, the accounts can be reconciled if a second example of a Latin writer using the word, columna, to refer to a structure described by a Greek writer as a tetrakoinin can be found in the sources. The identical pairing occurs in the descriptions of the Jephonias monument by Willibald and Epiphanius. Willibald refers to the monument as a magna columna, while Epiphanius once again uses the word, tetrakoinin, to describe the structure.106 We can consequently reconcile Adls and Epiphanius’ descriptions of the monument using the criterion of appearance without presuming what the structure even looked liked! Sequence The component of sequence is an extremely important factor in the analysis of the texts. Since pilgrim texts order the holy places according to walking itineraries and similar geographical considerations, sites within a given section of a text generally have a spatial relationship. An exemplary use of sequence is the study’s argument that, given the Holy Sepulchre locations of Adls 1.2-8 and Adls 1.11, the cloth relics of Adls 1.9-10 were likewise located within the complex. Inter-textually, the general locations of Adls’ church of Mary’s Weaving and the column 104 Cf. Aist (2008a) 50 and (2009), 95-96 and 325. Also see ch. 2.2, ‘Applying the Fourfold Methodology’. 105 Cf. Adls 1.11 with Hag. 4. 106 Cf. VW 20 with Hag. 24.

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of the Miraculous Healing are secured through the parallel sequences of Epiphanius and Daniel the Abbot.107 In all three texts, the commemoration of the Miraculous Healing concludes the Holy Sepulchre material. Parallel sequences between independent sources are a particularly strong means of verification. While the texts express numerous variations, there are some common patterns in the ordering of the material. The vast majority of texts commence their account of Jerusalem with the Holy Sepulchre. The primacy given to the complex reflects the singular place of honour that the tomb of Christ held for pilgrims. It also reflected standard practice: pilgrims visited the Holy Sepulchre immediately upon arriving into the Holy City. The texts describe the complex in progressive sequence, beginning either with the basilica of Constantine and moving progressively west towards the tomb of Christ or starting at the tomb and moving east towards the basilica. From the Holy Sepulchre, the texts move through intramural Jerusalem to sites beyond the city walls. In other words, the Holy City is described from the inside out. After the Holy Sepulchre, texts most often continue with Holy Sion, and a number of late Byzantine and Early Islamic pilgrim texts describe variations of a common pattern that traces a single, continuous route through the city.108 – The texts begin at the Holy Sepulchre, focusing upon the tomb of Christ, Golgotha and the place of the Holy Cross. Other commemorative features of the complex are variously described. – The second station is the church of Holy Sion with its threefold commemoration of the Lord’s Supper, Pentecost and the death of Mary. Holy Sion contained additional relics that are often mentioned in the sources. – The Byzantine texts then describe the church of Hagia Sophia, or Holy Wisdom, which commemorated Jesus’ trial before Pilate.109 The church was on or near the city’s secondary cardo, which ran Cf. Adls 1.10-11 with Hag. 4 and WB 15. Cf. Aist (2009), 216-28. The Jerusalem circuit for the Byzantine period is discussed in JW (1976). To link the city’s principal holy sites into a single, continuous pathway, pilgrims had to make a fundamental decision regarding the route from Holy Sion to Gethsemane before ascending the Mt of Olives. They could either go around the south-eastern corner of the Temple Mount, visiting the tombs of the Jehoshaphat Valley, or they could take the city’s secondary cardo, stopping at the pool of Bethesda and the place of Mary’s birth before exiting through the East Gate. The latter option became dominant. 109 Cf. Anacr. 20.73-80. Also see JW (2002), 339. 107 108

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in a north-south direction parallel to the western side of the Temple Mount. Holy Sophia was presumably destroyed in the Persian Conquest of 614, and the church is not mentioned in the Early Islamic texts. – The next site is the pool of Bethesda, which was just inside the East Gate. The site also commemorated the nativity of Mary. – Beyond the city walls, attention turns to the sites in the Jehoshaphat Valley, focusing on the tomb of Mary and Gethsemane commemorations. – The sequence concludes on the summit of the Mt of Olives with the Eleona and the church of the Ascension. The sequence almost certainly reflected pilgrim practice. In other words, the circuit charts the primary route by which pilgrims moved through the Holy City, or the standardized walking tour of the city’s holiest sites. Since the template appears in Latin, Greek and Armenian sources, each of the Christian communities participated in the circuit, and we can presume the existence of either multilingual or languagespecific tours led by the city’s resident monks as well as a practice performed by individual pilgrims. The impact of the pilgrim circuit upon the commemorative topography of Jerusalem was twofold. It established a two-tier status of holy sites. Sites not on the circuit, such as the spring of Siloam, assumed a secondary status. Secondly, new commemorations, like the Jephonias monument, were built along the existing route. The Jerusalem circuit provides a useful tool for examining specific pilgrim sources against the sequence of a common template.110 Applying the Fourfold Methodology The initial task in applying the methodology is to identify the four components of a given description. Using Adls 1.11 as a case study, we can dissect the material as follows: Commemoration: Two commemorations are associated with the column. The first commemoration is the Miraculous Healing of the Holy Cross. Corresponding to the Western version of the legend, ‘the Lord’s Cross was placed on a dead young man, and he came back to life’. The second commemoration is the centre of the earth, which the text connects with ‘the holy places of the Passion and Resurrection’. On Adls and the Jerusalem circuit, see ch. 4.3, ‘The Jerusalem Circuit’.

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Location: The column was located ‘in the middle of the city to the north of the holy places’. It could be ‘seen by every passer-by’ in a location where it caught the midday sun. Appearance: The site is described as ‘a very tall column’. Sequence: The description of the column follows the church of Mary’s Weaving, located ‘in Jerusalem’, and precedes the church of Mary’s Tomb in the Jehoshaphat Valley. Once the four components have been identified, an initial assessment of the material can be made. While the preliminary review should consider the material on its own terms, one’s general knowledge of Jerusalem will influence the issues that initially arise. Since the Miraculous Healing is the first of the two commemorations mentioned, it appears to be the column’s primary identity. As the commemorations are extra-biblical legends, Scripture offers no direct clues. Although the Miraculous Healing and the centre of the world are not connected, they are respectively associated with the Holy Sepulchre. Regarding the column’s location, ‘in the middle of the city’ is a recognized designator of the Holy Sepulchre,111 although the qualification, ‘north of the holy places’, remains unclear at this point – i.e., how far north? The fact that the column stood where it was seen by the passing crowds assumes a well-trafficked area of the city, while the reference to a noonday shadow presumes an outdoor location. The site’s appearance as a very large column does not elicit any particular comment except to note that Jerusalem was a city full of columns. The task is not to find just any column in Jerusalem but rather the correct one! Regarding sequence, the ‘in Jerusalem’ location of the church of Mary’s Weaving is particularly vague, while the church of Mary’s Tomb was outside the city walls in the Jehoshaphat Valley. The most logical starting point for analyzing intertextual material is the convergence of commemoration. Since Epiphanius also mentions a structure associated with the Miraculous Healing, we now turn to the description of Hag. 4: Commemoration: Epiphanius cites the Eastern version of the legend. ‘Saint Helena met the funeral procession of the maiden. The maiden was placed against the three crosses, and spoke when it was the Cross of the Lord’. 111 Cf. Melito of Sardis, Paschal Homily 71-72 and 93-94. Also see Brev. 1 (Brev. A1; Brev. B2) and Hag. 2. The Madaba Map locates the Holy Sepulchre in the exact centre of the city; cf. Tsafrir (1998).

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Location: First of all, the site is described as ‘below’ the house of Joseph. Does below mean that the structure was underneath the house of Joseph, or was the structure at a lower elevation than the house, leaving open the possibility that it was outside? Secondly, the structure appears in Epiphanius’ description of the eastern end of the basilica of Constantine: ‘on the left side of Saint Constantine is the icon of the very holy Theotokos … on the left side [of the icon and the basilica] is the house of Joseph’. Since the text is moving in a west-to-east direction, left signifies a northerly direction. Epiphanius’ structure, therefore, was north of the icon of Mary and the house of Joseph near the eastern end of the basilica. Appearance: The site is described as ‘a structure with four columns’. Sequence: The structure is mentioned after the icon of Mary and the house of Joseph and prior to the Sheep pool, or the pool of Bethesda. We are now ready to examine the two descriptions. While citing different versions of the legend (i.e., the question of gender), both texts refer to the Miraculous Healing. Making similar west-to-east surveys, the texts end their respective accounts of the Holy Sepulchre with the monument of the Miraculous Healing at the eastern end of the complex. Their locational descriptions can be reconciled since left of the basilica when facing east is north of the holy places. The monument presumably had direct access to the cardo, Jerusalem’s primary artery, where everyone passing by could see it. We can also conclude that the structure was lower than and not underneath the house of Joseph; it stood outdoors in the open air where it was exposed to the noonday sun.112 Describing a common landscape, Adls and Epiphanius each employ the sequence of a Marian commemoration and the monument of the Miraculous Healing followed by a site associated with the city’s eastern gate.113 The most notable divergence occurs in their descriptions of the site’s physical appearance. Adomnán describes the monument as a ualde summa columna, or ‘a very tall column’, while Epiphanius refers to it as a tetrakoinin, or ‘a structure with four columns’. Yet, this, too, has been reconciled through the parallel example of Epiphanius and Willibald, in which the Jephonias monument is described using the same columna – tetrakoinin 112 I presume the column was located on or near the cardo within the southwest quadrant of the present-day intersection of Souk Khan el-Zeit and the Via Dolorosa. 113 Cf. Adls 1.9-11 with Hag. 4-5. Also see Aist (2008a), 50 and (2009), 327.

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pairing. In sum, Adls and Epiphanius provide corroborating evidence that a commemoration to the Miraculous Healing located north of the eastern end of the basilica of Constantine existed during the Early Islamic period. A description of a holy site can ideally be compared to another equally-descriptive reference, and in this case, there is an abundant of riches.114 However, topographical material can be difficult to corroborate, and the textual pursuit of past topography is an inexact science. The monument was apparently destroyed prior to the Crusader period, and archaeological evidence is unlikely to be found. The case study is a textto-text identification of a past monument whose precise location and exact appearance remain unknown. The methodology likewise reveals that Epiphanius’ house of Josephus and Adls’ church of Mary’s Weaving are one and the same; yet, we have no idea of its size and appearance nor of its exact location within the Holy Sepulchre. While the texts provide locational parameters, the results cannot be pinned to the ground without the help of archaeological evidence, which itself is often wanting.

Topographical Templates Along with the text-to-text comparisons, a pilgrim source should be assessed against a contemporary template of the city’s topography, which requires a familiarity with the pilgrim texts, the material evidence of archaeological research and the city’s natural topography. The strength of the text-to-text methodology is its ability to interrogate specific material; the use of a topographical template is more effective for identifying the distortions, omissions and irregularities of a text. The approach reveals two significant features of Adls’ description of Jerusalem: the anachronistic placement of the city’s southern wall and the omission of the pool of Bethesda. With respect to the southern wall, the methodology may also suggest the source of the ‘error’, while recognizing key omissions is fundamental to the analyses of the texts, though it is often unclear why a given site has been excluded.115 Does the omission of the pool of Bethesda indicate that the site had suffered decline? Was the site 114 The additional sources of Willibald and Daniel the Abbot, the disclaimer of Adls 1.2.1 and Adls 1.2-10 as a sequential block of Holy Sepulchre material further solidify the case. Furthermore, both commemorations had been physically marked in the Holy Sepulchre since the Byzantine period. Brev. B2 locates the Miraculous Healing in an exedra near the place of the crucifixion, while Anacr. 20.29-32 places the centre of the world within the complex of the Holy Sepulchre. 115 Cf. ch. 4.2, ‘The Extramural Status of Holy Sion’.

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no longer favoured by pilgrims, or is the omission specific to Adls? Did Arculf visit the site, and, if so, did he simply forget to mention it, or was the material left out for a particular reason? As discussed in chapter 4, the pool was intentionally omitted from Adls in deference to the Holy Sepulchre and its intramural image of New Jerusalem.

Commemorative Credibility The principle of commemorative credibility states that the location of a holy site should be logically compatible with the physical context of the biblical story, sacred legend or theological idea that it represents. While the criterion does not provide conclusive evidence of a site’s position, it identifies the parameters of credible locations.116 Jesus’ baptism site should be somewhere along the Jordan River, the Sermon on the Mount should be on a hillside near the Sea of Galilee and the Lord’s Supper should be inside the city of Jerusalem. At issue is the credulity of medieval pilgrims. Deeply versed in the details of Scripture, Christian pilgrims expected the holy sites to conform to the particulars of the sacred text. By contrast, when a commemoration was out of place, it caught the attention of pilgrims, who sought an explanation for the discrepancy. The classic conundrum was the intramural location of the holy places of Christ, since Jesus was crucified outside the walls of Jerusalem.117 Pilgrim writers addressed the anomaly, even if they differed on the details. According to Bede, ‘after the sufferings of the Lord, the city was destroyed by Titus the Emperor; it was restored by Aelius Hadrian, the Caesar, from whom it is now called Aelia, and it was made much greater. This is the reason why, although the Lord suffered and was buried outside the city, now the places of his passion and resurrection are to be seen inside its walls’.118 Willibald’s clumsy attempt focuses on Helena: ‘there is now a church [at the place of Calvary]: in earlier times it was outside Jerusalem, but Helena put the place inside Jerusalem when she found the cross’.119 116 Commemorative credibility makes no comment on whether the commemoration in question actually happened; it merely considers the congruence of location and narrative. 117 Cf. Heb 13:12. Approximately a decade after the crucifixion, the area was brought inside the city walls by the northern expansion of Jerusalem under King Agrippa I (reigned 41-44 ce). 118 Bdls 1.1. 119 VW 18.

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While commemorative credibility presumes a location that plausibly corresponds to the commemoration in question, there were exceptions to the rule as previously noted. The establishment of extra-Jerusalem commemorations in the Holy City allowed pilgrims better access to certain scriptural memories.120 A Jerusalem-based tradition of Mary’s early life set Christ’s annunciation in the Holy City.121 The Mt of Olives functioned, to some degree, as a second Galilee for Jerusalem-based pilgrims.122 Within Jerusalem, the Holy Sepulchre was a depository for the city’s sacred stories, and some of its commemorative features, such as the prison of Christ and the Lord’s chalice, had no scriptural connection with the immediate area of the complex.123 Despite these examples, the pilgrim landscape was characterized by its fidelity to the stories, events and ideas that it remembered. The principle of commemorative credibility likewise applies to religious objects.124 It is fair to presume that the burial cloth of Christ mentioned in Adls 1.9 was kept in the Holy Sepulchre, a location that is confirmed by the Commemoratorium.125 However, certain relics were out of place. The chalice of the Lord’s Supper was on display at the Holy Sepulchre instead of Holy Sion, while Holy Sion was the custodian of two objects associated with Jesus’ trial before Pilate – the crown of thorns and a column of scourging – even though Byzantine Christians placed Pilate’s palace at the church of Holy Wisdom.126 A sacred object was sometimes kept in a separate location that was near its original place of association. The commemorative landscape was developed and altered in accordance with pilgrim convenience and safety. 121 Cf. Adls 1.10 and Hag. 4 with Proto. 7-11. 122 Cf. It. Burg. 595-96. By the Crusader period, the Eleona, which originally commemorated Jesus’ teaching of the Apocalyptic Discourse (cf. Mk 13; Mt 24-25 and Lk 21), recalled Christ’s teaching of the Lord’s Prayer, an event which the dominant version of Matthew places in the Galilee (cf. Mt 6:9-13; Lk 11:2-4). The Crusader commemoration expressed the conflation of Lk 10:38-11:4 with Mk 11:12-25. 123 Cf. Hag. 3. 124 The study is not interested in the authenticity of the relics, which were considered to be genuine by the pilgrim community. The duplication of relics, as a response to the theft, damage or translation of a relic, is not addressed. 125 Comm. 1. 126 On the Byzantine commemoration of Pilate’s palace at the church of Holy Wisdom, cf. Brev. 5; DSTS 7; Itin. 23. On Pilate’s palace in the post-Byzantine period, cf. AG 5 and Hag. 8-9. Also see JW (2002), 339. On the column of scourging at Holy Sion throughout the pre-Crusader period, cf. Jerome, Ep. 108.4; Brev. 4; DSTS 7; Itin. 22; Adls 1.18.2 and Hag. 7. While a column is not mentioned in the Scriptures, the scourging of Jesus occurs in Mt. 27:26; Mk 15:15 and Jn 19:1. On the crown of thorns 120

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The Piacenza Pilgrim identifies the tree trunk of Judas outside the East Gate, while noting that ‘an iron chain with which the unhappy Judas hanged himself’ was on display at the nearby pool of Bethesda inside the gate.127 Adls describes a rock of Agony kept at the church of Mary’s Tomb; the related event, Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane, was located a short distance away.128 While religious objects were generally kept in relevant settings, unsurprisingly, there is slightly less convergence of place and narrative with the translatable objects than there is with the sites themselves. One limitation of commemorative credibility is the allowance of multiple possibilities. In other words, an alternative, incorrect or misidentified site may still be commemoratively credible. The pool of Bethesda is a case in point. By the Crusader period, the commemoration of the paralytic healing had moved to the nearby pool of Israel, which was subsequently identified as the pool of Bethesda until the original site was rediscovered in the late nineteenth century.129 Given the topographical information of Jn 5 and the proximity of the two pools, both sites were credible locations.130 Commemorative credibility has been particularly effective in identifying errors in the secondary literature. Once again, we turn to Adls’ column of the Miraculous Healing, which has been previously identified with the North Gate column of the Madaba Map. The North Gate location strains the column’s commemorative identity. Since all versions of the Miraculous Healing take place in the general, if not immediate, proximity of where the crosses were found, either near the tomb of Christ or the place of the crucifixion, we should anticipate that the column was located in or near the Holy Sepulchre. Since the centre of the world, the column’s second commemoration, was connected in pilgrim thought with Golgotha, we should further expect the monument to be in or near the complex.131 While the criterion of commemorative credat Holy Sion throughout the pre-Crusader period, see Brev. 4; Itin. 22; AG 4 and It. Bern.12; cf. Mt 27:29; Mk 15:17 and Jn 19:2-5. 127 Cf. Itin. 17 and 27. 128 Cf. Adls 1.12.4-5; VW 21. JMO (2008), 146-48. 129 Cf. Aist (2009), 148-56; Gibson (2005); Jeremias (1966). 130 The fact that Bethesda was a double pool, hence John’s reference to five porticos, refers to the component of appearance. Commemorative credibility looks specifically as the interplay between commemoration and location, and based upon these criteria, the pool of Israel was a credible location for the Jn 5 narrative. 131 Cf. Bdls 2.6; Ps 74:12. Both commemorations were physically marked in the Holy Sepulchre in the Byzantine period. Brev. B2 places the commemoration of the

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ibility does not confirm the Holy Sepulchre location of the column, it lays the groundwork for a compelling and ultimately convincing argument. The principle has also been used to discredit the identification of the Jephonias monument with the same North Gate column.132 Pilgrim tradition would have presumed that Mary’s funeral procession between Mt Sion and the Jehoshaphat Valley followed a direct, logical pathway and would not have countenanced a circuitous route to the North Gate. The monument, in fact, was located outside the East Gate not far from her tomb.133 When pilgrims cite Luke’s reference to a ‘stone’s throw’ as the distance between the grotto of Gethsemane and the place where Jesus prayed, one presumes that the respective sites were located within a reasonably circumscribed range.134 Although commemorations were occasionally out of place, pilgrims expected the location of holy sites to conform to the biblical stories, sacred legends and theological ideas they represented. The concept of commemorative credibility, which has been particularly useful in assessing the scholarly literature, provides a framework for setting likely parameters for the identification of holy sites and religious objects.

Religious Imagination The concept of religious imagination moves from the raw blocks of topographical detail and the task of verifying contents to questions of meaning and importance. First of all, religious imagination refers to the quantity and quality of the sensory data presented in the descriptions of the holy places. What can one can see, feel, smell, hear and even taste through the words of the text? What word pictures are created by the textual accounts? Religious imagination relates most directly to descriptions of appearance; yet, it factors in the full contents of the material, including pilgrim practices and liturgical references. Secondly, the concept of imagination moves beyond the senses to the realm of significance and meaning. Religious imagination speaks to the symbolism, theologi-

Miraculous Healing in an exedra near the place of the crucifixion, while Anacr. 20.2932 associates the centre of the world with Golgotha. Also see It. Bern. 11. 132 Cf. JW (2002), 242, map 43. 133 Cf. AG 6; Hag. 24 and VW 20. Also see Aist (2009), 162-74. 134 Cf. Aist (2008a), 188-202, esp. 198-200, which refutes the argument that the present-day site of Dominus Flevit served as the location of Jesus’ agony during the Early Islamic period.

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cal resonance and the dimensions of sacred time – past, present and future – that attend descriptions of the holy places. Religious imagination is expressed in the texts in at least four respects. Firstly, it refers to the degree to which a reader can see or imagine the holy site. Secondly, it further speaks to the pilgrim’s experience of the site. What was it like to be there? Third, the concept relates to the ways in which a description of a contemporary site allows a reader to imagine the biblical events and to perceive the eschatological resonance associated with the place. Fourth, religious imagination concerns the meanings and symbolisms expressed in the text, including ways in which the natural topography of the Holy Land may be viewed as religious parable. We can speak of religious imagination in terms of texts, pilgrims and holy places. Our attention focuses initially on the commemorative landscapes. The holy places possessed an imaginative interplay between narrative and architecture. The magnificent round building of the Anastasis, which housed the tomb of Christ, evoked a sense of awe, while the church of the Paralytic Healing at the pool of Bethesda, built on top of the narrow dyke separating the site’s twin pools with its buttresses submerged into the water, profoundly immersed pilgrims into the biblical narrative. Round and roofless, the church of the Ascension left the location of Jesus’ last footprints uncovered, allowing pilgrims to gaze into the heavens of Jesus’ ascension in order to contemplate the biblical past as well as the promised return of Christ. Two columns represented the men in white mentioned in the narrative.135 Together with architecture features, the physical arrangement of a site fostered the religious imagination of a holy place. The commemorative focal point – the exact spot where a sacred event was understood to have occurred – was of particular importance. Pilgrims encountered lamps on the burial bench of Christ and a golden cross on top of the tomb.136 A silver cross rose from the socket of Calvary.137 At the place of Jesus’ baptism, a large wooden cross stood in the Jordan River, and the last footprints of Christ were surrounded by a railing containing an aperture for pilgrims to gather samples of the sacred soil.138 Perpetually-burning lamps at the tomb of Christ, Calvary and the place of the Ascension Cf. Act 1:10-11 with VW 21. Cf. Adls 1.2.7, 12; VW 18. 137 Cf. Adls 1.5.1. 138 Cf. Adls 1.23.8. 135

136

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conveyed themes of vigil, perseverance and eschatological expectation.139 The holy sites contained aesthetic extravagance, evocative images and physically-expressed ideas that conveyed meaning to receptive pilgrims. Holy Land pilgrimage was a shared experience. Its purpose was to express in physical form the unified truth of the Christian faith on the very locations of divine revelation. Pilgrims returned home with a common body of experience that included impressions of the biblical landscapes and images of the holy sites enhanced through sacred architecture, commemorative symbolism, pilgrim practices and liturgical experience capped off by the interpretative stories of the Jerusalem church. Holy Land pilgrimage as common experience accounts for the similarities in the reports of Arculf and Willibald, best exemplified by their evocative accounts of the baptism site and the church of the Ascension.140 The religious imagination of the pilgrim texts was largely effected by the creators and custodians of the holy sites. We can also speak of the religious imagination of individual pilgrims, such as Arculf and Willibald. To begin with, they assimilated their physical encounters with the holy sites. The physicality of the tomb of Christ, the wooden cross in the Jordan River and the roofless church of the Ascension became mutually-received elements of their Holy Land memories, and, to a degree, we cannot distinguish between the religious imaginations the two pilgrims, which underscores the point of the Holy Land as a shared experience. At the same time, they experienced the Cf. Adls 1.2.12; 1.5.1; 1.6.3 and 1.23.10. Willibald’s account of the place of Jesus’ baptism (VW 16) is imbued with a high degree of religious imagination. Willibald notes the local monastic presence, mentions a church raised on stone columns, describes various features of the site, including a wooden cross in the middle of the river and refers to his own entry into the water. Detailing the site’s reputation as an active place of healing, Willibald provides an impressionable description of the feast of the Epiphany with scenes of sick and invalid people lining the banks of the river. The account imaginatively depicts the seventhcentury site, while revealing the religious mind of Willibald, who recalls the events fifty years after the fact. Adls’ description of the site (Adls 2.16) contains a number of direct parallels. Both Willibald and Arculf swam in the water, they were both captivated by the large wooden cross in the middle of the river, and they both mention the monastic presence at the site. They additionally allude to the unique architectural feature of the church: it was built into the water in such a way that baptisms could take place underneath it, although the area under the church was dry at the time of Willibald’svisit. While Adls’ account is slightly longer and architecturally more descriptive, the similarities of the texts raise one of the primary points regarding the principle of religious imagination – it tells us as much about the holy sites as it does about the texts. The mutual witness of Willibald and Arculf affirms the importance of the baptism site as one of the most important Christian holy places outside of Jerusalem during the late seventh and early eighth centuries. 139

140

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Holy Land on their own terms, and their reports reflect certain particularities. The dormition of Mary caught the attention of both pilgrims; however, their treatment of the legend and its three holy sites are significantly different. The church of Mary’s Tomb captured Arculf ’s imagination in ways that were not expressed by Willibald, while Willibald could recall the Jephonias monument fifty years later, though it appears to have been left out of Arculf ’s report. To speak of the religious imaginations of Arculf and Willibald is, in effect, to refer to the imagination of their respective texts, Adls and the VW, which in turn, raises the question of non-autobiographical writings. Regarding the VW, while authorial acknowledgments are due to Hugeburc, who composed the introduction and conclusion of the text, the Holy Land section is a faithful rendering of Willibald’s report which has been placed in the third person. We can assume that Hugeburc assimilated the contents of Willibald’s report; however, to speak of Hugeburc’s religious imagination of the Holy Land has limited utility. The situation is far more complex with respect to Adls. Many of the word pictures of Adls are directly sourced from Arculf ’s report, and, in this respect, the religious imagination of Adomnán and Arculf is one and the same. Yet, Adomnán incorporates an assortment of supplemental sources into the bishop’s account. His interpretation of Arculf ’s report, his integration of sources and the ways in which the Holy Land material was filtered through the theological perspectives of Iona speak to the religious imagination of Adomnán. The imagination of the Holy Land was transmitted from pilgrim to writer to reader, and each party who received the material reshaped the contents accordingly. We can, therefore, speak of the distinct imaginations of Arculf, Eucherius, Adomnán and Bede, the four entities that comprise the study. In one respect, religious imagination is an end in itself. Just as a painting or an icon of Jesus’ baptism is a visible theological expression, the rich word pictures captured by Arculf and Willibald should be similarly appreciated as an artefact of the post-Byzantine site. Their descriptions of the church of the Ascension are vivid testimonies of pilgrim faith, while Adls’ depiction of bright lamps in the otherwise undecorated aedicule constructs a remarkable image of resurrection light in Christ’s empty tomb. Adls’ ‘baptism of Jerusalem’ functions as a narrative icon of the Holy City, while Book 1’s depiction of the Holy City as New Jerusalem is an exceptional religious vision that integrates scriptural imagery and topographical detail. The pilgrim texts should be recognized as theological writings in their own right.

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The concept of religious imagination also has an evaluative component. First of all, a basic task in working with the sources is recognizing the hierarchy of sites within the individual texts. What does the quality and quantity of commemorative description, including symbolic detail, tell us about the relative importance of the various sites within a text? Not only do the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension receive the most attention in Adls Book 1, their status is brilliantly expressed by Adls’ selective references to lamps, which is limited to the tomb of Christ, Golgotha and the place of the Ascension. Secondly, we can assess the religious imagination of a text as a whole. Does a text generally describe the sites in fulsome detail, or are the descriptions generally short and succinct? Adls is the most fulsome pilgrim text of the Early Islamic period, while Bdls, which takes a straightforward approach to sacred topography, has less imagination. Texts based upon the direct experiences of an individual pilgrim, such as Adls and the VW, generally have more religious imagination than impersonal guides like AG. Adls is a richer and more detailed text than the VW, which is not surprising since Arculf dictated his report within a couple of years of his Holy Land visit, while Willibald described the sites five decades after his travels. Third, the hierarchy of sites within a source and the degree of a text’s overall religious imagination are important factors in making intertextual analyses of the holy places. Continuing with the church of the Ascension, assessing the condition of the site is not simply a question of the similarities and differences between Adls and the VW; rather, the overall dynamics of the texts come into play. It is important to note that Willibald’s attention is essentially limited to the commemorative focal points of the site – the place from where Christ ascended (i.e., his footprints) – which was illuminated by a central lamp, the open roof that allowed pilgrims to gaze into the heavens and the commemorative columns of the men in white. Willibald never states that the church was round as its circular shape had no direct bearing upon the commemorative expression of the site. By contrast, Adls includes descriptions of noncommemorative architectural features (e.g., the roundness of the church and its windowed western wall), references to additional lamps, and attention to altars and the Ascension liturgy. Willibald’s account is by no means impoverished; however, it was the commemorative focal points of the church not its surrounding context that was important to him. Keeping these textual dynamics in mind (i.e., Adls as a more fulsome text than the VW, Willibald’s focus on the commemorative features of

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the site, the fifty-year gap between Willibald’s travels and his report, and the fact Adls and the VW both describe the church of the Ascension as the primary holy site after the Holy Sepulchre), the centrepiece surrounding the footsteps of Christ provides an interesting case study for applying the principle of religious imagination. According to Adls, the area was enclosed by ‘a large circular bronze railing’ about the height of a man’s neck that had an opening in its western side in order for pilgrims to take sacred dust from the site.141 Willibald refers to ‘a square brass thing’ in the centre of the church that was beautifully engraved.142 The object(s) seems to have been a railing or a panelled partition of some kind that separated pilgrims from the sacred footprints at the commemorative centre of the church. Keeping in mind that the VW is a slightly less descriptive text, one based upon the long-term memories of an elder churchman, are the texts describing the same structure, or are they separate, distinct objects – i.e., the square brass apparatus of Willibald has replaced the large circular bronze railing of Adls?143 If the latter, was the alteration due to some sort of damage to the church, or did it represent a proactive renovation and, thus, a presumed improvement to the site? Willibald was certainly impressed by what he saw, recalling fifty years later that the object was beautifully engraved; if it was not the same object that Arculf saw, the replacement was of notable quality. The fact that both Arculf and Willibald favourably remembered a metal object at the commemorative centre of the church expresses the constancy of religious imagination that held sway over the site throughout the time period represented by the two texts, a detail that mirrors the larger parallels between the texts that establish the church of the Ascension as the city’s second holiest site after the Holy Sepulchre. In the end, we cannot positively determine whether or not the two texts are referring to the identical structure. However, the argument of religious imagination suggests that it was the same object and that no detectable changes had occurred to the site. Moreover, Willibald’s reference to the two commemorative columns, in no way, implies that they were damaged or ruined columns. They were most likely structural columns, and their locations on the north and south sides of the church give commemorative balance to objects on the eastern (an altar) and western (an altar, windows Adls 1.23.6. VW 21. 143 Despite the obvious difference between a circle and a square, both shapes contain the same property of its exterior outline beginning and ending at the same location. 141

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in the western wall and the special aperture in the railing for collecting holy dust) sides of the church mentioned in Adls. The two texts collectively describe a structure with architectural, liturgical and commemorative balance. While the example of the Ascension church emphasizes the difficulty of reconciling divergent details of physical appearance, the constancy of religious imagination expressed in the texts must be weighed into any argument advocating that the two texts testify to a discontinuity at the site that had taken place in the four decades since Arculf’s visit. Another insight based upon the consideration of religious imagination is the continuity of the pilgrim experience at the Holy Sepulchre between the late Byzantine and the early post-Byzantine periods. To whatever extent the complex was damaged by the Persians and subsequently repaired, pilgrims, such as Arculf and Willibald, essentially detail the same architectural features, commemorative stations, sacred legends and holy relics as the late Byzantine pilgrims. While the constancy of pilgrim imagination speaks to the commemorative resiliency of the Holy Sepulchre, the post-Byzantine complex remained worthy of its status as the holiest site in Christendom. While the criterion of religious imagination provides insights into the texts, sources and holy sites, it can occasionally produce results that are at odds with other methods of inquiry. As previously emphasized, for both Adls and the VW, the church of the Ascension was the primary site after the Holy Sepulchre. The mutual testimony of two independent texts clearly establishes its importance in the first century of the Early Islamic period. Can we unequivocally state that the church was the second holiest site in Jerusalem? If not, what other site would vie for consideration? The evidence of the Commemoratorium, which lists the number of priests serving at the holy sites, suggests an unsurprising contender, the church of Holy Sion. While the ‘Ascension of Christ’ was served by three presbyters and clergy, Holy Sion was served by seventeen.144 The Commemoratorium depicts Holy Sion as a highly functioning church site, while the place of the Ascension required relatively little oversight by the Jerusalem clergy. As the setting of three major commemorations – Pentecost, the Lord’s Supper and the death of Mary – Holy Sion was the apostolic ‘mother of all churches’.145 Holy Sion was also the custodian of key relics of the Christian faith, such as the crown of thorns, the column of scourging and the stones of Stephen, Comm. 2, 23. The church of Mary’s Tomb had equally large numbers. DSTS 7.

144 145

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and served as a frequently-used venue in the Jerusalem liturgy.146 The fact that Adls associates five commemorations with Holy Sion and includes a plan of the church testifies to its importance. Yet, nothing in particular captured Arculf ’s imagination, while the same can be said of Willibald, who, while associating the church exclusively with its Marian commemoration, provides no physical details of the church. The criterion of religious imagination speaks to an element of the pilgrim experience that may differ from the mere sum of a church’s commemorations and relics, its association with the New Testament past or its function as an important station of the Jerusalem liturgy. While the church of the Ascension and Holy Sion were clearly the two most important sites after the Holy Sepulchre, due to a combination of its perch on the Mt of Olives, its integration of scriptural narrative and architectural features, the effect of the church’s illumination on a dark night, its celebration of the Incarnation and its anticipation of Christ’s return, the church of the Ascension made an indelible impression on post-Byzantine pilgrims that was rivalled only by the tomb of Christ. In summary, while religious imagination is expressed through the quantity and quality of a text’s description of a holy site, it moves beyond the senses to matters of theological importance. What do biblical story, physical setting, religious architecture, pilgrim behaviours and liturgical resonance say about the nature and importance of a particular site? What thoughts, ideas and images are conveyed by a textual description of a holy place? What surprises, excites and delights within the pilgrim writings, and which sites did pilgrims most favour? While the theological word pictures of the sacred places are worth contemplating in their own right, religious imagination provides an evaluative measure for the analysis of the pilgrim texts and the holy sites they describe.

2.3. Assessing Textual Images of Jerusalem We now turn to the study’s approach for assessing textual images of Jerusalem. The primary image of the Holy City is a function of the individual holy sites placed upon a template of the city as described or implied by the respective texts. The study also considers the inconsistencies and ambiguities of its principal sources, particularly concerning the construct of 146 For descriptions of Holy Sion, see Itin. 22; AG 5; Hag. 7 and It. Bern. 12. Also see JW (2002), 350-53. On Holy Sion in the Jerusalem liturgy, cf. The Armenian Lectionary in JW (1999), 181-93.

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Mt Sion, the underlying topography of the city and the physical boundaries of its various districts. Is Mt Sion a specific district within the city, or is it equated with Jerusalem itself? Are the Holy Sepulchre and the Temple located on Mt Sion, or do they belong to distinct areas within the city? The historical expansions of Jerusalem also come into play. In discussing the substance and distortions of the topographical content, the study is interested in the transmission of source material and its influence upon the images of the Holy City in the respective texts. One of the challenges of the study is determining when the real topography of Jerusalem informs the discussion and when it actually hinders it. While much of the study, including the identification of specific holy sites, is grounded in the city’s real, historical topography, the book ultimately lets the texts speak on their own regarding their images of the Holy City. How would a reader without a firsthand knowledge of Jerusalem read the texts? The question raises a key feature of the study: all three authors are remote writers. What is the imagination of a Jerusalem text that has been written by an author who never set foot in the Holy Land? These questions are at the heart of the study. Finally, a word is in order regarding the pictorial figures at the end of the book that depict the mental maps of the texts as two-dimensional images.147 While the three-dimensional topography of Jerusalem that is emphasized in the writings complicates the task, at issue is the veracity and authority of graphic representations of a text. In short, the figures are resources for interpreting the texts but should not be read in place of the texts themselves. The figurative maps provides a different means of conceptualizing the material; yet, they introduce their own inaccuracies and distortions. In the end, a textual description of a text’s mental map remains the best and most accurate medium.

2.4. Summary Characterized by their geographical arrangement of the holy places, the corpus of pilgrim texts is fundamentally characterized by its interest in commemorative topography. First of all, it is precisely the details of the sacred places, not other features of the texts, such as travel stories, religious experience and itineraria, that define the genre. The texts inform Scripture and express various theological images, but the details of the 147

Cf. figs 5-11.

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holy sites are the nuts and bolts of the material. Secondly, the topography described in the texts is of a commemorative and contemporary nature. The texts describe the sites of past scriptural events, while the holy places testify to the truth of Christian revelation and resonate with eschatological imagery. Yet, the texts depict what was presently on the ground. This is obviously the case with the impersonal guides that were used by actual pilgrims. It is likewise true for the texts based upon pilgrim testimony that were written for communities back home. Actual travellers and virtual pilgrims were mutually interested in a contemporary blue print of the holy sites. The pilgrim texts are theological works of sacred topography that had direct appeal to its Christian readers. Previous scholarship on the texts has lacked a thorough methodology. The first step in working with the material is recognizing the four components of topographical descriptions – commemoration, location, appearance and sequence. The starting point is commemoration. What event, person or idea is being recognized? While Christian pilgrimage focused upon the life of Christ, Old Testament events and extra-biblical legends were important elements of the sacred landscape. The second component, location, raises questions related to the issue of commemoration. Did duplicate sites exist, and did commemorations ever move? The study holds that the sacred topography of the post-Byzantine period was largely characterized by a constancy of location. Although the commemorative landscape was expansive and had to address various discrepancies in the biblical text, it had unity and coherence. The details of appearance, or the physical features of a site, are generally the most prominent component, particularly in texts written for a readership unfamiliar with the Holy Land. The question that arises with respect to appearance is whether non-convergent information regarding the same commemorative location is a problem of the texts or reflects an alteration to the site. While the component of appearance relates mostly to the physical features of a site, descriptions of holy sites occasionally include references to pilgrim practices and liturgical activities. The final component of a topographical description is sequence. Since pilgrim texts assume a geographical arrangement, sequence is a particularly important criterion for establishing the identification and location of a commemorative station, particularly when a parallel sequence occur in the sources. The shared patterns of other pilgrim texts are instructive for identifying the commonalities and idiosyncrasies of a given source. In making intertextual comparisons, an analytical tendency is to match pairings according to location. This is useful for comparing descriptions

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of established sites, such as the major churches of Jerusalem. However, the most effective way to utilize the methodology is through the initial identification of a common commemoration. If two texts are describing the same commemoration, we should subsequently look for the convergence of location and appearance. Focusing upon a mutual location or the similarity of appearance makes little sense if there is no indication that a common, recognized memory is connected to the site. Yet, this is precisely the process that has led to the scholarly misidentification of the post-Byzantine monuments. Given the prominent North Gate column on the Madaba Map (in a city full of columns, no less), scholars have uniformly identified references to large columns with the North Gate, despite the contradictory evidence.148 With respect to Adls 1.11, scholars presumed a locational match with the North Gate column based upon the descriptor, ‘north of the holy places’, and its reference to the passing crowds. The association of the Jephonias monument with the North Gate is more inexplicable given the clear textual evidence that it was located outside the East Gate. In neither instance have questions of commemoration been considered in identifying the monuments nor is there any evidence that the North Gate column was ever Christianized. Methodologically, the initial matches are the references to the Miraculous Healing in Adls and Epiphanius and those to the Jephonias legend that appear in AG, Epiphanius and the VW. Similarly, the key to recognizing the identicality of the church of Mary’s Weaving and the house of Joseph is their common witness to the Annunciation. In each case, the components of location, appearance and/or sequence subsequently converge to secure the match. While text-to-text analyses largely focus upon corroborative results, it is equally important to establish a source’s idiosyncrasies. A template based upon a composite knowledge of the textual and archaeological evidence is effective for identifying the mistakes, distortions and omissions of a text. The study’s methodology consists of two additional criteria: commemorative credibility and religious imagination. Commemorative credibility establishes credible parameters for the location of a holy site based upon the geographical details of the relevant narrative. The criterion is not conclusive, and occasionally locations contravene their own stories. However, the concept effectively shifts thinking about the texts Scholars have even associated a marble column that the Piacenza Pilgrim (Itin. 25) locates outside the city on the road leading to Diospolis with the North Gate column of the Madaba Map. Cf. Aist (2008a), 45-46 and JMO (2010) with Verdier (1974), Pullan (1998) and Woods (2010b). 148

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in terms of the x’s and o’s of topography to considering the holy sites from a pilgrim’s perspective. In many ways, the Holy Land was as much about stories as it was about places, and pilgrims expected the commemorative topography to be well told. The principle that most directly focuses on the pilgrim mind is religious imagination. What was the interplay between scriptural narrative and the physical features of a holy place? How was the biblical story told at a site, and how was theology expressed physically, symbolically and liturgically? What was the sensory experience at a sacred place, and what was communicated beyond the senses? Although certain word pictures of the pilgrim past are worthy of contemplation in their own right, the concept of religious imagination provides an evaluative criterion for the assessment of the texts and the holy places they describe.

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CHAPTER 3 EUCHERIUS’ LETTER TO FAUSTUS

The Letter to Faustus, containing an account of Jerusalem, is ascribed to Eucherius, the bishop of Lyons from c. 434 to 449.1 The letter has been dated between the earliest known source in the text, Jerome’s Ep. 129, written in 414, and Eucherius’ death in 449. However, the topographical evidence, Eudocia’s restoration of the southern walls of Jerusalem, moves the terminus post quem to at least 438.2

3.1. The Name of Jerusalem Eucherius commences his discussion of the Holy City by establishing Aelia as the contemporary name of Jerusalem. While compressing its history – Titus conquered the city in 70, while Hadrian refounded Jerusalem as a Roman city in the 130s – Eucherius accurately ascribes the name of the city to Aelius Hadrian. Bede will use the Hadrianic reference to incorrectly explain the intramural incorporation of the holy sites.3 1 The study presumes that Eucherius is the author of the text; cf. JW (2002), 4-5; TOL (1995b) and (2007), 214-22. O’Loughlin addresses Geyer’s scholarly discursion, now rejected, that introduced the idea of a Pseudo-Eucherius text that purportedly post-dated Adls. 2 The key factor in the topographical dating of the text is the restoration of the city’s southern walls by the Empress Eudocia, who made two trips to Jerusalem, the first in 638 and the second in 643, staying there until her death in 660; cf. Evagrius Scholasticus, HE 1.20-21. Therefore, the date of Ep. Faust. is between 638 and the death of Eucherius in 449. The narrow window between the restoration of the walls and the death of Eucherius suggests that the Jerusalem material is based upon the report of a recent pilgrim. The study assumes that Eucherius was a remote writer who never visited the Holy City. 3 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 2 with Bdls 1.1.

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3.2. Mt Sion Eucherius then moves from nomenclature to topography. The city was on a natural elevation with the ground rising from every direction. The ascent was gentle; yet, its length was pronounced. The natural site of the city was almost circular in shape, assuming the form of a conical mountain. The city was enclosed by a lengthy wall; however, the outline of the wall is not mentioned. The walls actually formed a slightly elongated quadrilateral; the east and west walls were longer than their northern and southern counterparts.4 Since the text refers to a nondescript wall immediately following its description of the city’s circular shape, the reader is left with the impression that the wall either assumed the outline of the mountain or was incidental to the shape of the city. The image of Jerusalem as a circular mountain city characterizes the text.5 Eucherius then introduces Mt Sion, the city’s topographical centrepiece. Formerly outside the city walls, Mt Sion was now enclosed by them. The statement refers to the complex history of the city’s southern wall and specifically denotes Eudocia’s fifth-century restoration of the wall as it had formerly stood between the Hasmonean and late Roman periods.6 Prior to Eudocia’s restoration, the retracted line of the southern wall crossed the Western Hill north of its summit, leaving it outside the city during the early Byzantine period.7 Eudocia’s project brought the southern end of Jerusalem, including the summit of the Western Hill, identified by Christians as Mt Sion, back inside the city.8 Cf. Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 77. Our interest here is the image expressed by the text not the actual shape of the walls. The study does not presume that Eucherius’ walls were actually circular; rather, the point is that the walls, regardless of their shape, are subsumed by the text’s dominant image of Jerusalem as a circular-shaped city. Eucherius states that the major gates of the city were on the east, west and north sides of the city, and he twice refers to an eastern wall. However, the use of cardinal directions applies to a circular set of walls. The study will consequently depict Eucherius’ outline of Jerusalem as circular, while the west, north and east gates will be respectively placed at three, nine and twelve o’clock on the circle. On Eucherius’ image of Jerusalem, see fig. 6. 6 Cf. Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 39 and 77. 7 Cf. Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 65. 8 Eucherius, who acknowledged the former separation of the two entities, does not seem concerned about reconciling the Mt Sion–Jerusalem relationship with the biblical text. Throughout its history, three separate areas have been identified as Mt Sion. The historical stronghold of Sion captured from the Jebusites in the tenth century bce was originally on the Ophel Hill, half-way down the southern slope of Mt Moriah (the Eastern Hill). It was on this relatively low-lying hill that the original Israelite city 4 5

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The summit of Mt Sion, the highest point within the city, overlooked Jerusalem like a fortress; its likeness as a citadel was indicative of its strength and security. Whereas the walls were mutable, Mt Sion was a perpetual stronghold. The image of an elevated citadel evokes a sense of restricted sacred space, a role fulfilled by the church of Holy Sion, located on the flat peak of Mt Sion. As an apostolic site of Jesus’ resurrection appearances and the place of Pentecost, Holy Sion was regarded as Christianity’s mother church, which is one reason why Eucherius introduces it prior to the Holy Sepulchre.9 Byzantine-era Christians, including Eucherius, firmly believed that the New Testament church had been founded in the heart of Sion. As its dominant topographical feature, Mt Sion functions as the organizational construct governing Eucherius’ description of the Holy City. The other areas of Jerusalem, namely, the ‘greater part of the city’, the Holy Sepulchre, the lower city and the spring of Siloam, are respectively identified in terms of their relationship to Mt Sion. Jerusalem is defined, organized and arranged by the topographical construct of Mt Sion. Eucherius’ description of Mt Sion contains certain distortions, contradictions and uncertainties. While Mt Sion dominates Eucherius’ description of Jerusalem, it is slightly unclear whether Mt Sion is synonymous with the cone-shaped city or whether it is a separate mountain within the city itself. Is the long ascent to Jerusalem merely a description of how to reach the city, or does the cone-shaped mountain describe Mt Sion and the intramural topography of the city itself? While there is reason to believe that Eucherius’ Mt Sion and the mountain city of Jerusalem are one and the same, the image is inconsistent. Notwithstanding of Jerusalem, also known as the city of David, was founded; cf. 2 Sam 5:7; 1 Kgs 8:1; 1 Chr 11:5 and 2 Chr 5:2. As the city expanded, it initially grew to the north, incorporating the upper parts of the Eastern Hill, which included the area of the subsequent temples. The common Old Testament usage of Sion, especially in Psalms and Isaiah, equates the term with the city of Jerusalem, often with Temple connotations. 1 Maccabees (second century bce) directly associates Mt Sion with the Temple; cf. 1 Mac 4:37; 4:60; 5:54 and 7:33. By the Christian period, Mt Sion was identified with the city’s Western Hill. At issue is whether Christians also considered the Eastern Hill and the former Temple as part of Sion. If Mt Sion was identified exclusively with the Western Hill, the Temple was no longer on Sion, straining certain perceptions of Scripture. Despite its association with the early church, Sion never appears in the New Testament as a topographical reference to first-century Jerusalem. The seven references – Mt 21:5; Jn 12:15; Rom 9:33; Rom 11:26; Heb 12:22; 1 Pet 2:6 and Apoc 14:1 – are either Old Testament quotations or references to Sion as a heavenly or eschatological idea. On the history of Sion, see Mare (1999); Aist (2009), 135-39. 9 Cf. Jn 20:19-30; Act 2:1-4.

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its larger identity with the Holy City, Mt Sion is associated with the southern end of the city and functions as a distinct intramural district. Since Eucherius states that Mt Sion has been incorporated into Jerusalem and does not include any extramural sites on Mt Sion, the question is not whether Mt Sion extends beyond the walls but whether it includes the entirety of the intramural city.10 We turn now to the relationship between Mt Sion and the other areas of Jerusalem. Eucherius describes the dominant height of Mt Sion, indicates that the greater part of the city was lower than Mt Sion and refers to a lower city.11 While the lower city, which included the Temple, can also be regarded as its own intramural district, was the lower city part of the lower slopes of Mt Sion, and does Eucherius imply that the Temple was located on Mt Sion? The questions are informed by another key feature of the text. Namely, Eucherius’ construct of Mt Sion appears to conflate the Western and Eastern hills of the city, while neglecting the Tyropoeon Valley. This would certainly be the case if we equate Mt Sion with the mountain city of Jerusalem – as ground rising in all directions – which is how Adomnán reads the text. While the conflation of the Jerusalemite hills is suggested by the cone-shaped image of the city, Eucherius’ description of the spring of Siloam as ‘on the steep rocky side of Mt Sion which faces east, inside the walls at the bottom of the hill’ is more explicit. Eucherius identifies the summit of Mt Sion with the Western Hill; the spring was located at the southern foot of the Eastern Hill, separated from the Western Hill by the narrow Tyropoeon Valley. In other words, Eucherius associates areas of both the Western and the Eastern hills with Mt Sion. Eucherius has either erred in his description of the spring, or he has conflated the two hills; the latter rings more true of the text.12 Ep. Faust. provides no indication of an intramural valley, leaving the impression that the lower city, including the Temple and the Eastern Hill, By contrast, both Adls and Bdls describe extramural sites on Mt Sion. The statement that ‘the greater part of the city lies on the flat top of a hill which is lower than’ Mt Sion probably refers to the extended northern ridge of the Western Hill that included the area of the Holy Sepulchre. 12 The conflation of the Western and Eastern hills raises the question of whether an on-the-ground pilgrim could have perceived the city as a single mountain or if the construct is merely a literary depiction. Since the Eastern Hill was significantly lower than the Western Hill, it is plausible, despite the intervening valley, that a Byzantine pilgrim could have envisioned the descending slopes of the city in terms of a single mountain or mountain unit. What appears as a topographical distortion in Eucherius may reflect a general perception of Byzantine Christians. 10 11

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were on the lower slopes of Mt Sion.13 The association of the Temple with Mt Sion is possibly implied by Eucherius’ treatment of the Holy Sepulchre, which, despite being on the same extended hill as Holy Sion (the Western Hill), is described as ‘outside the area of Mt Sion’. No such distinction is made between Mt Sion and the lower city–Temple area. Eucherius makes a curious topographical distinction between Mt Sion and the Holy Sepulchre that appears to distort the physical topography of the Western Hill: from Mt Sion, the Holy Sepulchre was ‘approached by rising ground stretching north’.14 Although the approach may rise in places, the Holy Sepulchre is recognizably lower than the summit of Mt Sion. The main point, though, is that Eucherius has explicitly separated the two intramural areas: the superior height of Mt Sion overlooks the city from the south, while the Holy Sepulchre ascends to the north ‘outside the area of Mt Sion’.15 Mt Sion does not comprise the whole of intramural Jerusalem. In short, Eucherius seems to be working with a twofold image of Mt Sion: 1) Sion as the entirety of the Jerusalem, a conical mountain that conflates the Western and Eastern hills and 2) Sion as a recently-incorporated, intramural district that is The ambiguity of Eucherius is rectified by Adomnán, who, while omitting the spring of Siloam, clearly conflates the two hills by depicting the underlying topography of intramural Jerusalem as the sloping ground of Mt Sion. Reversing Eucherius’ perspective of Jerusalem as a single mountain approached by rising ground from all directions, Adomnán states that Mt Sion, located south of the city, extended to the western gate, while sloping all the way to the city’s northern and eastern walls. The text, therefore, implies that the Holy Sepulchre and the Temple were respectively located on Mt Sion, even though the primary image of Adls makes a fundamental distinction between the Holy Sepulchre and Mt Sion. The conflation of the Jerusalemite hills is further expressed by Adomnán’s assertion that rainfall on Mt Sion (i.e., the Western Hill area of the Holy Sepulchre) flowed through the city’s eastern gates; cf. Adls 1.1.11-12. Only rainfall on the north-eastern end of the Eastern Hill and the southern side of Bethzatha, or Bethesda, flowed through the eastern gates. Adls 1.1.6 also places the western and eastern ends of the southern wall on Mt Sion. The eastern end of the wall was on the Eastern Hill. 14 The northern end of the Western Hill was the least geographically distinct side of the mountain. Besides the pre-Eudocian southern wall, the minor Transversal Valley, which ran east from the West Gate, could be regarded as the hill’s northern boundary. However, the Western Hill is more generally considered to extend beyond the present-day northern walls. As a point of distinction that holds true today, while Holy Sion and the Holy Sepulchre are both identified with the Western Hill (a juxtaposition is often made between the Western Hill location of the Holy Sepulchre and the Eastern Hill site of the Temple Mount / Noble Sanctuary), the Holy Sepulchre is not generally considered to be a part of Mt Sion. Mt Sion is usually regarded as a distinct part, or the southern end, of the Western Hill. 15 A curious distinction occurs in the two texts: while Eucherius excludes the Holy Sepulchre from Mt Sion, Adls excludes Mt Sion from the Holy Sepulchre. The Holy Sepulchre is the principal focus of Adls, which relegates Mt Sion to an extramural status. 13

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explicitly distinct from the Holy Sepulchre. While Eucherius makes a topographical attempt at distinguishing between the two, adjacent districts, they were more clearly defined by historical and theological considerations – old and new Jerusalem – and physically delineated by the pre-Eudocian southern wall, points arguably embedded in Eucherius that are fundamental to the Holy Sepulchre–Mt Sion divide in Adls.16

3.3. The Holy Sepulchre While the summit of Mt Sion was located at the southern end of the city, in introducing the Holy Sepulchre, the text shifts directions, depicting pilgrims entering the city from the north. The movement from the North Gate follows ‘the layout of the streets’, implying a route along the city’s cardo to the eastern entrance of the Holy Sepulchre. Eucherius then presents a simple east-to-west outline of the Holy Sepulchre.17 People first arrived at the Martyrium, or the basilica of Constantine. Eucherius mentions the magnificence of its Constantinian construction; however, the legend of the Holy Cross, the commemorative focus of the basilica, is not included. To the west of the Martyrium was Golgotha, the place of the Lord’s passion. In his only reference to a physical feature of the complex, Eucherius describes the rock that ‘once bore the Cross to which the Lord was fixed’.18 Further to the west was the Anastasis, the site of the resurrection. Surprisingly, the tomb of Christ is never mentioned. While outlining the three principal sites of the Holy Sepulchre in an east-to-west sequence – the Martyrium, Golgotha and the Anastasis – Eucherius omits the commemorative focus of the Martyrium, fails to mention the tomb of Christ and does not refer to any additional relics, altars or commemorations within the complex. Yet, Eucherius’ 16 As discussed in ch. 4.2, ‘The Extramural Status of Holy Sion’, the pre-Eudocian southern wall separated the districts of Holy Sion and the Holy Sepulchre, which were respectively associated with old and new Jerusalem. The wall likely factors into Eucherius’ description of Holy Sepulchre as ‘outside the area of Mt Sion’. See Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 65. Possibly implied but undeveloped in Eucherius is the distinction between Sion as old, biblical Jerusalem and the Holy Sepulchre area as the New City of Jerusalem. The difficulty in making this dichotomy in Eucherius is that Sion has been recently incorporated into Jerusalem instead of the other way around: the incorporation of the holy sites of Christ into the expanding city of biblical Sion–old Jerusalem. 17 The direction of Eucherius’ description of the Holy Sepulchre is significant to the subsequent analysis of Bdls. See ch. 5.5, ‘Reversing Directions’; fig. 5 and table 7. 18 Ep. Faust. 6.

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outline contains just enough information to convey the significance of the sites. While Adls and Bdls place the complex ‘in the middle of Jerusalem’, Eucherius provides no explicit indication of its location.19 Since it was somewhere between the North Gate and the southern heights of Mt Sion, the Holy Sepulchre assumes the centre of Eucherius’ Jerusalem almost by default. Despite the significance of the Holy Sepulchre, it does not function as a larger point of reference within the text.20

3.4. The Temple Even if Eucherius implies that the Temple was located on the lower slopes of Mt Sion, its location in the lower city was subordinate to the Christian sites on higher ground, namely, Holy Sion and the Holy Sepulchre. The Temple itself lay in ruins with its walls destroyed to their very foundations; Eucherius, though, includes two positive details. First, he acknowledges that the Temple had been magnificently built, a comment retained by Adomnán but omitted by Bede.21 Secondly, a purported pinnacle of the Temple had been miraculously preserved, a claim that reflected Christian interest in the temptation of Christ.22 Neither Adomnán nor Bede permits any surviving remains of the Temple.

3.5. The Pool of Bethesda and the Spring of Siloam Eucherius finishes his account of intramural Jerusalem with references to the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam.23 A few cisterns were in the northern part of the city, while the pool of Bethesda was ‘near the Temple’. The deteriorating condition of the site, distinguished by its twin pools, is described by Eucherius: while one pool held the winter Cf.  Adls 1.11.1 and Bdls 2.6. Eucherius uses Mt Sion and, secondly, the Temple, not the Holy Sepulchre, as reference points within the text. Mt Sion is explicitly mentioned four times, while the Temple is mentioned three times. Adomnán will focus on the Holy Sepulchre, while Bede, following Eucherius, develops his account of Jerusalem around the construct of Mt Sion. 21 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 7 with Adls 1.14 and Bdls 2.3. 22 Cf. Mt 4:5-7; Lk 4:9-12. On pilgrim references to the pinnacle of the Temple, see It. Burg. 590; Brev. 6; DSTS 9. 23 Ep. Faust. 8-9. 19

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rains, the other was filled with dirty red water.24 Returning his attention to Mt Sion, Eucherius places the spring of Siloam at the bottom of its steep eastern slope. Its fluctuating supply of water ran to the south. While Bede includes the two water sources, Adomnan omits both sites.

3.6. Extramural Jerusalem Moving outside the city, beside the city’s eastern wall and doubling as the Temple wall was Gehenna, which was in the Jehoshaphat Valley.25 Of note is Eucherius’ reference to the intermittent status of the Brook Kidron, which ran north to south whenever there was sufficient rain. Adomnán integrates the information into his story of the annual ‘baptism of Jerusalem’.26 Bede mentions the Brook Kidron twice; once in his redaction of Adls’ miraculous rainfall and once, following Eucherius’ description of the Jehoshaphat Valley.27 Before introducing the Mt of Olives as east of the city, Eucherius describes the country around Jerusalem as having ‘a rough hilly character’.28 The reference to the Jerusalem countryside introduces a transition from the preceding material, and the brief phrase gives rise to elaborations in both Adls and Bdls.29 Eucherius then refers to two ‘very famous churches’ on the Mt of Olives.30 One was situated at the place ‘where Jesus addressed his disciples’.31 The other church was on the site of Jesus’ ascen24 Ep. Faust. 8. Cf. It. Burg. 589; Lib. Loc. 59.22-25; Itin.27. The double pools account for the five porticos mentioned in Jn 5:2. 25 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 9; Lib. Loc. 71.3. Various forms of Gehenna, or the Valley of Hinnom, are mentioned thirteen times in the Old Testament, many of which have connotations with child sacrifice. The Gospels likewise refer to Gehenna as a physical counterpart to Jesus’ teaching of the kingdom of Heaven. Although the modern designation of the Valley of Hinnom (Gehenna), followed by this study, refers to the valley west and south of Jerusalem’s Western Hill, the exact location is disputed. 26 Cf.  Adls 1.1.7-13. Elaborating upon clues found in Ep. Faust., Adomnán assumes that the Kidron was formed by rainfall on Mt Sion, a point not explicitly made by Eucherius. See ch. 4.2, ‘Adls 1.1 as Prologue’. 27 Cf.  Bdls 1.3 and 5.2. 28 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 10. 29 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 10 with Adls 1.20 and Bdls 5.1. Also see chs 4.2, ‘The Interval of Adls 1.20’ and 5.5, ‘Bdls 5.1’. 30 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 10 with Adls 1.23, 25 and Bdls 6.1-2. 31 Cf.  Adls 1.25. Adomnán’s description of the Eleona is couched in the language of Eucherius, raising the question whether the site was mentioned in Arculf ’s report. See ch. 4.2, ‘The Mt of Olives’ and appendix A2.7.

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sion. No details of the physical appearance of either church are provided. Eucherius does not mention Bethany or the tomb of Lazarus.32

3.7. Eucherius’ Image of Jerusalem While Ep. Faust. depicts the Holy City as a cone-shaped mountain characterized by its long descending slopes, our interest here is the construction of a two-dimensional map of Eucherius’ description of Jerusalem. The image of a circular city governs the text, which is fundamentally defined by its mountain topography, not by the mutable line of the city walls. We can depict the three principal gates of Jerusalem, located on the west, north and east sides of the city, as corresponding respectively to nine, twelve and three o’clock on a north-oriented circle. The interior of the circle includes three districts, Mt Sion (south), the area of the Holy Sepulchre (centre) and the lower city (east). Their shapes, sizes and spatial relationships are open to interpretation, though we will likewise represent Mt Sion as a circle. In terms of the intramural sites, the apostolic church of Holy Sion can be placed in the centre of Mt Sion. The location of the Holy Sepulchre, containing the Martyrium, Golgotha and the Anastasis, is not explicitly described in the text. However, if one entered the city from the north and followed ‘the layout of the streets’, one would arrive at the complex prior to reaching Mt Sion on the southern end of the city. Since the holy places were somewhere between the North Gate and Mt Sion, the Holy Sepulchre can be placed in the middle of the circle. A corridor connects the North Gate with the eastern side of the Holy Sepulchre. The Temple, in the lower city, was near the city’s eastern wall. Since its relationship with the East Gate is unknown, it is best to represent the Temple and the East Gate on the same east – west axis, even if this is incorrect with respect to the city’s actual topography. The pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam can then be added. The pool of Bethesda was near the Temple. While it is unclear if the reference to water cisterns in the northern part of the city refers to the Bethesda pool, it can be placed north of the Temple, which reflects its actual location. The spring of Siloam was on the lower eastern slope of Mt Sion, which dominated the southern end of the city; thus, the spring can be located in the south-eastern area of the city inside the smaller circle. The Jehoshaphat Cf.  Ep. Faust. 10 with Adls 1.24 and Bdls 6.3.

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Valley and the Mt of Olives are extramural areas respectively to the east of the city. While Gehenna is equated with the valley, no specific holy sites are mentioned. The church of the Ascension and the Eleona are respectively positioned on the Mt of Olives. This is the image of Jerusalem that Adomnán and Bede encountered in their reading of Eucherius, a circular shaped city dominated by Mt Sion.33

3.8. Format and Sources Four final points regarding Ep. Faust. are worth noting. First of all, Eucherius does not follow the travels or descriptions of a specified pilgrim.34 While Bede follows the example of Eucherius, Adls makes explicit use of a pilgrim guide and eyewitness source. Secondly, the Eucherius text begins in Jerusalem,35 a feature that is mirrored by both Adls and Bdls.36 Third, Eucherius uses written texts to supplement his central source, providing a model subsequently employed by Adomnán and Bede. Similar to Adls, Eucherius’ use of additional sources is less pronounced in the Jerusalem material, while a greater reliance upon literary sources characterizes rest of the text.37 Finally, when a text takes material from another source, it assumes the biases and images that are embedded within it. Source material can assume a life of its own, often with unintended or contradictory consequences. The degree to which Adomnán and Bede replicate and embellish Eucherius, the amount of Eucherian imagery expressed in the two texts and the extent to which Bede diverges from Adls in favour of Eucherius will be explored in the following two chapters.

See fig. 6. The only explicit reference to pilgrim movement in the Jerusalem material is ‘people coming into the city from the north’ on their approach to the Holy Sepulchre; cf. Ep. Faust. 6. 35 Many of the characteristics of Eucherius are similar to those of an impersonal guide, such as Brev. or AG. 36 While O’Loughlin makes a convincing argument for a parallel between Adls’ three books and the threefold division of Acts, summarized in Act 1:8 as Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria, and the ends of the earth, Eucherius, whom O’Loughlin also sees as a prototype for Adls, had a more direct influence. Cf. TOL (1998) and (2007), 26 and 155-7. 37 While using a number of sources, Eucherius’ non-Jerusalem material contains multiple references from Jerome, Lib. Loc. and Ep. 129; cf. JW (2007), 95-98. 33

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4.1. Approaches and Premises Adls as Pilgrim Text The study identifies Adls as a pilgrim text, arguing that its primary interests and core contents are the commemorative details of seventhcentury Jerusalem.1 The subcategories of itinerary and pilgrim literature do not apply; Adls does not include actual itineraria, while the religious behaviours and experiences of Arculf are not the subject of the text.2 Arculf ’s ‘experience of faraway places’ gives the text the occasional air of travellogue.3 References to wood-bearing camels, crocodile-infested rivers and fiery volcanoes lend an exotic feel to the text.4 Miraculous narratives dominant the Constantinople material, while the treatise concludes with the evocative description of the thunderous eruptions of Mount Vulcano.5 However, the notion of travellogue – an exotic journey to faraway places – is an inadequate description of Adls given its theological interest in the Holy Land. While the text contains exceptional eschatological imagery and a number of exegetical clarifications, Adls is primarily a geographically-arranged treatise focused on the com The genre of Adls is also discussed in appendix A2.4. Also see ch. 2.1. While functioning as the pilgrim guide for Adls, Arculf is not the subject of the text. Although Adls includes details of Arculf ’s pilgrim practices and religious piety, the text does not describe his personal religious experiences. Cf. appendix A2.7, ‘Arculf ’s Pilgrim Persona’. 3 Adls preface. 4 Cf.  Adls 2.12; 2.30.28-29 and 3.6. 5 Cf.  Adls 3. 1 2

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memorative topography of the Holy Land.6 Adls is first and foremost a pilgrim text, and the chapter will analyze the work according to the topographical approach laid out in chapter 2.

The Internal Witness of Adls The study finds the internal witness of Adls, including key organizational markers, to be highly credible. When Adomnán quotes Arculf stating that the description of intramural Jerusalem will only include ‘the amazing buildings in the holy places of the Cross and Resurrection’, the study presumes that the ensuing account is limited to the complex of the Holy Sepulchre.7 Likewise, the admission that the text will ‘say nothing [of the other buildings] filling the space enclosed by the city wall’ suggests that certain material has been intentionally omitted.8 When Adomnán states that he will ‘leave out things that may be gathered about the disposition of the city from other authors’, the study takes an a priori position that the Jerusalem material is dominated by the oral report of Arculf.9 The comment additionally implies that written sources will be more frequently used in the non-Jerusalem portions of the text. The study also presumes that Adls is generally accurate in describing Arculf ’s movements, observations and behaviours, which, in turn, are internally consistent. In stressing that Arculf frequented the holy places on a daily basis during his nine-month sojourn in the Holy City, the text asserts that he was an expert on Jerusalem.10 By contrast, the text makes the concerted point that Arculf only spent two nights in Nazareth and one night on Mount Tabor.11 While his report on the Galilee retains an eyewitness quality, the text implies that Arculf had less knowledge of the sites beyond Jerusalem. The clues are interrelated. The disclaimer that Book 1 will leave out the writings of other authors is consistent with Arculf ’s portrayal as an expert on the Holy City; Adls’ increased use of supplemental sources in Book 2 reflects the text’s admission that Arculf had more limited experience beyond Jerusalem. 6 The eschatological interests of Adls are discussed throughout the chapter. O’Loughlin’s argument that Adls is an exegetical manual is addressed in appendix 2, esp. A2.4. Cf. TOL (1992b), (1997a), (1997c) and (2007). 7 Adls 1.2.1. 8 Adls 1.2.1. 9 Adls 1.1.1. 10 Adls preface. 11 Cf.  Adls 2.26.5 and 2.27.5.

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The Role of Arculf The study recognizes Arculf as Adls’ principal source and pilgrim expert in the Christian topography of seventh-century Jerusalem and accepts Adomnán’s depiction of Arculf, mentioned eighty-six times in the text, as a ‘trustworthy and reliable’ witness.12 Adls’ repeated references to the dialogical relationship between Adomnán and Arculf are likewise taken at face value. Phrases, such as ‘when I asked Arculf … he replied’ and ‘I questioned Arculf further, and he added’, are characteristic of their interactions.13 The inquisitive relationship between the composer and his source has two important implications. First of all, the bishop had an influence on the contents, structure and images of the text, including the interplay between topographical detail and theological import.14 Adls specifically credits Arculf with shaping – and limiting – the Jerusalem material.15 Secondly, the interactions depict Adomnán as an informed composer. The abbot asked questions of interest and sought clarifications on points that he did not fully understand.16 The two churchmen discussed commemorative topography, scriptural exegesis and eschatological imagery. Along with the diagrams of four churches that appear in the text, Arculf may have sketched additional maps for Adomnán.

12 Adls preface. For a list of the Arculf references, cf. TOL (2007), 253-54. Unlike the extant text of Ep. Faust., the Arculf source material, which is not what appears in Adls but rather what was spoken to Adomnán, cannot be precisely identified. What did Arculf actually say? What were the contents of his report, the style of its presentation and the sequence of the material? What was wrong or inaccurate in his account? Equally important is what Arculf did not say. What was left out of Arculf’s report? What did he forget to tell Adomnán? Adomnán likewise heard things from Arculf that he did not include in the text. The task of defining Arculf is further complicated by Adls’ use of additional sources to supplement the text. Along with Adomnán’s reworking of Arculf’s report, at times, the language of other authors presumably overlies the Arculf material. The Arculf material is not always flagged by Adomnán. See, for instance, Adls 1.11, which is discussed in ch. 4.2, ‘The Column of the Miraculous Healing’ and appendix A2.5. 13 Adls 1.2.1 and 1.6.3. 14 Given that Adomnán was recording notes for a future composition, we can assume that Adomnán and Arculf discussed the project and that Arculf tailored his report accordingly. As a learned churchmen and a Holy Land pilgrim, Arculf understood the theological importance of the holy places, and his report would have included its own interpretations. 15 Cf.  Adls 1.2.1. 16 Despite the interrogative dialogue, certain confusions in the text suggest that Arculf was not present when Adomnán composed the final version of Adls. See the odd sequencing of the Jehoshaphat Valley and the Mt of Olives sections discussed in ch. 4.2, ‘The Jehoshaphat Valley’ and ‘The Mt of Olives’.

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The quality of Adls is, in part, a product of the abbot’s active interrogation of his pilgrim source. In emphasizing the role of Arculf, the study readdresses O’Loughlin’s rejection of the so-called ‘Arculf hypothesis’, which does not ‘pay attention to Adomnán, his background or his context, as he is primarily the amanuensis and publisher of the distinguished episcopal scholar and traveller, Arculf ’.17 O’Loughlin’s position raises the awareness of Adomnán’s compositional achievements; in doing so, he reduces the bishop to a figment of the abbot’s literary imagination. Adls, he argues, was a product of the Iona library. The study counters these views.18 To deny Arculf ’s influence, let alone his existence, ignores the consistent, internal witness of the text, while failing to adequately consider the text’s compositional process.19 The figure of an isolated abbot conjuring up the apparition of a pilgrim traveller not only dismisses the evidence of the text, it ultimately shows little faith in Adomnán. The study argues that Adomnán’s reputation as the erudite composer of Adls is more securely established if the relationship between the two churchmen took place as it is repeatedly portrayed in the text – a scholarly abbot adeptly interrogating a pilgrim bishop about the sacred topography of the Holy Land. The study likewise assumes a hermeneutic of credibility regarding the sparse details of Arculf ’s background: ‘Arculf was a holy bishop, a Gaul by race’.20 All we know from Adls is that a pilgrim by the name of Arculf was a bishop and that he was an ethnic Gaul.21 The text gives no indication why Arculf was in the Northern Isles nor where the two men encountered each other. Bede states that Arculf had been shipwrecked and manipulates Adomnán’s statement by describing Arculf as a bishop of the Gauls (Galliarum episcopus).22 Despite the dearth of details, it is important to consider the Adls material on its own, separate from the contributions of Bede, as we do not know if Bede’s comments are spurious conjecture or independent content.23 The study concedes that TOL (2007), 42. See appendix 2. 19 The position also ignores the topographical evidence; cf. appendix 1. 20 Adls preface: Arculfus sanctus episcopus gente gallus. Also see appendix A2.7, ‘Arculf ’s Background’. 21 Arculf appears to be a Frankish name. 22 Cf.  HE 5.15 and Bdls 7.3. 23 On Bede’s redaction of biographical information, which suggests that he is merely embellishing Adls, see appendix 3 on Peter of Burgundy. Cf. Adls 2.26.5 and 2.27.5 with Bdls 19.4. 17 18

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Adomnán’s reference to Arculf ’s background raises more questions than it answers; however, the biographical and circumstantial details of Arculf warrant limited weight in the larger assessment of the text. Despite scholarly frustration that a historic Arculf has not been discovered, the study accepts Adomnán’s description of Arculf as ‘a holy bishop, a Gaul by race’.24 In light of the overall integrity of Adls, there is little reason to doubt the information that the abbot provides regarding his fellow churchman. In short, the study approaches the internal witness of Adls with a hermeneutic of credibility. Certain markers accurately inform the contents of the text. Arculf is convincingly depicted as a Holy Land pilgrim, and Adls repeatedly describes a collegial relationship between the two churchmen.25 Given the weight of the topographical evidence in establishing the authenticity of Arculf, the simple particulars of the bishop’s background are ultimately of little concern.26

Adls’ Supplemental Sources Adomnán acknowledges that Arculf ’s report has been compared ‘with what others have written’.27 Textual sources dominate portions of Book 2;28 the disclaimer, however, that Book 1 will leave out information from ‘other authors’ accurately describes the minimum use of additional sources in the Jerusalem material.29 Although Adls’ account of the Holy City has been spliced with the works of Eucherius, Jerome and Sulpicius Severus and Juvencus is mentioned by name, the non-Arculf material plays a minor role in Book 1.30

The Three Books of Adls The study holds that the three books of Adls have distinctive characteristics. The interplay between topography and theology makes Book 1 one of the most exceptional pre-Crusader writings on Christian Je While the statement lacks the detail and precision that scholars desire, it hardly implicates the authenticity of Arculf. 25 See appendix A2.7, ‘Arculf ’s Pilgrim Persona’. 26 See appendix 1. 27 Cf.  Adls 1.23.9. 28 Cf. JW (2002), 184-98. 29 Cf.  Adls 1.1.1. 30 Cf. JW (2002), 167-83, which identifies most of the supplemental sources used in Book 1. 24

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rusalem.31 Adls presents the Holy City as the image of New Jerusalem: a foursquare city without a temple consisting only of the holy places of Christ.32 The eschatological image is achieved through the manipulation of topographical material. The Temple is treated as past prologue. The line of the city’s southern wall is anachronistic, and at least one key site, the pool of Bethesda, is left out of the text. As a result, the eschatological whole is greater than the topographical sum of its parts. In contrast to the eschatological imagery of Book 1, Book 2 is a rather straightforward treatise on the sacred topography beyond Jerusalem. No larger image, eschatological or otherwise, is created from the material; there are no discernible distortions or intentional omissions. Book 2 has a different relationship, at least proportionally, with its source material.33 Yet, despite the increased use of supplement sources, Book 2 is based upon Arculf ’s report. The pilgrim’s exposition of earth salt, locust and wood honey establishes his credentials as an expert on the natural phenomena of the Holy Land,34 and his reports on the commemorative topography of the holy sites, including the church of the Nativity, Jesus’ baptism site, Jacob’s Well, Nazareth and Mount Tabor, are vintage pilgrim text material.35 The geographical subjects of Book 3, Constantinople and Mount Vulcano, are beyond the traditional confines of the Holy Land, and the book has a different and, at times, a less sophisticated relationship with the concept of holy places. Much of Book 3, which relies almost exclusively upon Arculf, consists of two lengthy but rather pedestrian miracle stories.36 It also describes the divinely-inspired foundation of Constantinople and contains two of the text’s richest descriptions of religious topography.37 Adls’ account of Hagia Sophia, Constantinople’s ‘most famous church’, which possessed the relic of the True Cross, arguably The pre-Crusader qualification reflects the historical limitations of the study. The exceptionality of Adls should be considered against the entire corpus of Christian writings on Jerusalem. 32 The deduction that Adls perceives intramural Jerusalem as a foursquare city is supported by the text’s use of cardinal directions to describe the walls and gates of the city but is ultimately extracted from the numerous parallels between Adls 1.1-11 and Apoc 21. 33 Adomnán shows less compunction in Book 2 about supplementing Arculf ’s report with the works of ‘other authors’, particularly, Jerome and Hegesippus. 34 Cf.  Adls 2.17 and 2.22. 35 See Adls 2.2; 2.16; 2.21; 2.26 and 2.27. 36 Cf.  Adls 3.4 and 3.5. Bede deletes the material. 37 See Adls 3.2; 3.3 and 3.6. 31

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the most venerated object in Christendom after the tomb of Christ, is comparable in detail and religious imagination to its depictions of the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension.38 Book 3 ends with a remarkable description of Mount Vulcano, the physical manifestation of inferno, also known as the Hell of Theoderic; its eruptions on Fridays and Saturdays, corresponding to Jesus’ descent into hell between his crucifixion and resurrection, were louder than those throughout the week.39 The inferno of Mount Vulcano provides Adls with a pungent counterpoint to its New Jerusalem depiction of the Holy City.40 There is a structural unity between the three books as they trace the movements of Arculf from Jerusalem westwards towards Rome.41 Yet, each book has its own character with respect to topography, theology and its use of sources.42 Book 1 manipulates the material to create an exceptional eschatological image of the Holy City, while Book 2 engages a significant amount of written sources in its account of the sacred topography beyond Jerusalem. Book 3 relies almost exclusively upon Arculf ’s report. Foraying into miracle stories, its setting outside the traditional confines of the Holy Land shapes the material. Book 3 includes a particularly robust account of Hagia Sophia, while its description of Mount Vulcano provides a poignant juxtaposition to the New Jerusalem imagery of Book 1.

Cf.  Adls 3.3 with 1.2-3 and 1.23. The description of a natural feature expressing the rhythms of the weekly liturgy also appears in It. Burg. 592, which describes the spring of Siloam as ceasing to flow on the Sabbath. 40 Cf. TOL (1996b) and (2007), 133-42, which describe the image of Mt Vulcano in the Christian West and point out the juxtaposition between heaven and hell that begins and ends Adls. Also see Gregory the Great, Dialogi, 4.30. Mt Vulcano was a place of pilgrim interest; cf. VW 30, which describes Willibald’s unsuccessful attempt to climb its summit. 41 Cf. TOL (2007), 155-56 and (1996c), 114-16, which discuss Adls’ parallels with the threefold movements of Acts: Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria, and the ends of the earth; cf. Act 1:8. 42 Adls has generally been approached as a uniform text. O’Loughlin, who makes an inadequate summary of Book 1 in TOL (2007), 57-61, connects his argument with discussions of books 2 and 3 found in Delierneux (1997) and (2001) and Woods (2002). The divergent character of Adls’ three books has been recognized by Meehan (1958), 12-14 and Limor (2004), 262. 38 39

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4.2. The City of Jerusalem We now turn to the heart of the chapter, Adls’ description of Jerusalem, which is divided into three sections: Adls 1.1 as prologue, the intramural city of Adls 1.2-11 and Jerusalem beyond the walls (Adls 1.12-25).

Adls 1.1 as Prologue Adls 1.1 functions as a prologue to the ensuing description of the Holy City. The chapter consists of three components: an inventory of the city walls, a description of an annual September rainfall that miraculously cleanses the city and a reference to the site of the former Temple, now a Saracen house of prayer. Adls uses the prologue to establish the divinelyfavoured status of Jerusalem which results from the holy places of Christ that reside within its walls. The book opens with Arculf standing before the city, surveying the splendour of Jerusalem’s magnificent walls, counting its towers and naming its gates.43 The text then introduces a story that testifies to ‘the city’s special privilege in Christ’.44 The vignette, referred to in the study as ‘the baptism of Jerusalem’, provides the date (the twelfth of September) but not the occasion (the dedication festival of the Holy Sepulchre) of an annual market that attracted people ‘from almost every country and many nationalities’.45 The narrative is set within the context of the Encaenia Ecclesiae, a major Jerusalem festival celebrating the dedication of the Holy Sepulchre.46 The original event, which took place on 13 September 335, is described in Eusebius, De vita Constantini, 4.43-47, and Egeria, writing in the 380s, indicates that the occasion had become an annual eight-day festival equal to Epiphany and Easter.47 The second day of the Encaenia, 14 September, commemorated Helena’s discovery of the True Cross and was the only element of the festival to find its way into the Latin liturgy. The Georgian Lectionary, which describes the Jerusalem

Cf.  Adls 1.1.1-6. Cf.  Adls 1.1.7-13. 45 On the eschatological significance of the gathering of the nations, cf. Adls 1.1.8 with Apoc 15:4; Ez 5:5 and 38:12. 46 Cf. Aist (2010), 174-80, along with Black (1954), 79-80; Hunt (1984), 108-10 and Peters (1985), 202; Adls is not describing the Jewish festival of Sukkot as per Janin (2002), 71. 47 It. Eg. 49.1-3; cf. DSTS 31. 43

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liturgy of the eighth century, indicates that the festival was still being held in the post-Byzantine period.48 Returning to the narrative, some days after the start of the market, the ‘revolting dung’ of the livestock made it difficult to walk about, while the smell of the ‘clogging filth’ caused ‘a considerable nuisance to the citizens’. After the international crowds had gone home, God sent a miraculous rainfall to clean the streets. Since the intramural terrain was divinely sloped, the waters drained completely out of the city, taking all of the dung with it and blessing Jerusalem with an annual ‘baptism’.49 In terms of physical topography, the narrative implies a link between the market, the rainfall and the immediate area of the Holy Sepulchre on the city’s Western Hill, while the most poignant aspect of the story is that the ‘baptizing’ rains fell in concert with the annual dedication of the Holy Sepulchre. In other words, the vignette contains an remarkable parallel between the earthly, ecclesial calendar – a feast rededicating the holy sites of Christ – and a heavenly liturgical act that blessed the sites and the city. The festival’s significance, though, is muted in the text, and even Adomnán seems uncertain of the story’s liturgical backdrop. While Western readers would have recognized the market’s proximity to the feast of the Holy Cross, no significance is given for the September date nor for the purpose of the market gathering.50 Although the liturgical setting is not explicitly established, the story has a clear Christological purpose. For all of its eschatological imagery, scriptural overtones, topographical references and miraculous content, the vignette specifically expresses ‘the city’s special privilege in Christ’.51 As a testimony to the ‘outstanding worth [of] this elect and renowned GL 1234-54. One element of Arculf ’s story converges with a detail from Ep. Faust. – a reference to rainfall – causing Adomnán to link Eucherius’ description of Jerusalem’s sloping terrain (Ep. Faust. 2-9) with the catchment of the Brook Kidron (Ep. Faust. 9). Redacting the fifth-century text in light of the Arculf material, Adomnán further conflate the intramural terrain of Jerusalem–Mt Sion. The point is further discussed at the end of the chapter. 50 While Limor (2004), 272 is correct in ascribing the story to Arculf, it is not necessary to assert that the account depicts ‘a traveler marveling at the miracle that presumably took place before his eyes’. Given the fact that the story describes the miracle as an annual event and that it is linked to the dedication festival of the Holy Sepulchre, the material belongs to the realm of Jerusalem tradition, representing the experiences and interpretations of the Jerusalem community. While Arculf may have witnessed a heavy autumnal rainfall, he knew the story. See appendix A2.7, ‘The Errors of Arculf ’ and A2.8, ‘The Role of Jerusalem Tradition’. 51 Adls 1.1.7. 48 49

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city’, the Eternal Father ‘speedily cleanses’ the city ‘in honour of his Only Son, since the holy places of his Holy Cross and Resurrection are contained within the circuit of its walls’.52 While the market narrative does not actually mention Christ, the story concludes by linking the glory of the city with the holy sites of Christ, a point that echoes the purpose of the Encaenia Ecclesiae. As a prelude of themes to come, the baptism of Jerusalem establishes the Christocentric focus of Book 1. The focus on Christ is important for understanding the function of the third and final component of the opening chapter: Adls’ reference to the former Temple. After introducing the ‘famous place’ where ‘once … stood the magnificent temple’, the pericope describes a ‘house of prayer’ purportedly holding up to three thousand people that the Saracens had built ‘over some ruined remains’.53 As the earliest extant source regarding a mosque on the former Temple Mount, Adls’ description is quite significant. The text’s focus, though, is not on the mosque but on the site of the former Temple. Not only was the Temple long-since destroyed, even its ruins were covered by Saracen construction. Moreover, the relevant comparison is not between the former Temple and the mosque; rather, the reference sets up a juxtaposition of time and place between the ruined Temple and the holy sites of Christ. The Temple no longer existed; one could merely indicate ‘where it had once stood’. By contrast, the contemporary splendour of the Holy Sepulchre expressed the permanence of Christian revelation. In terms of location, the Holy Sepulchre was not only in the middle of the city; it was located at the centre of the world. The former Temple site was peripherally located near Jerusalem’s eastern wall in the lower part of the city.54 Adls depicts the site as negative theological space that testifies to the fulfilment of divine prophecy,55 while the ruined Temple is introduced at the beginning of Adls precisely because Adomnán treats it as past prologue.56 Although it was ‘once there’, Jerusalem no longer had a temple; it Adls 1.1.13. The phrase, ‘within the circuit of its walls’, anticipates the importance that Adls gives to the intramural city. 53 Adls 1.1.14. 54 Cf.  Adls 1.11 with 1.1.14. 55 For scriptural prophecies on the destruction of the Temple, see Mt 24:1-2; Mk 13:1-2 and Lk 21:5-6. While Adls depicts the Temple in complete ruins, cf. Ep. Faust.7, which states that a pinnacle of the Temple was still standing ‘by a miracle’, a sentiment that does not appear in Adls. 56 In mapping Adls’ image of Jerusalem, one could indicate the location of the former Temple; more properly, the site is not represented. See figs 7 and 8. 52

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was now the city of ‘the Cross and Resurrection’, the place of Christian salvation.57 Adls 1.1.14 implicitly expresses the Revelator’s vision of New Jerusalem: ‘I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb’.58 The role of the Saracens should likewise be seen in terms of Adls’ replacement theology. Far from representing the continuity of religious space, the Saracen presence on the former Temple Mount marked a further obliteration of the site, affirming the truth of the Christian faith. Consistent with the part that Mu’awiya plays in Adls 1.9 as adjudicator between Christians and Jews, the Saracen presence on the Temple Mount similarly fulfils an anti-Jewish role in the text. For Adls, it is immaterial that the Saracens were not Christians. What mattered is that they were not Jews.59 Somewhat ironically, Adls views the Saracen presence on the Temple Mount ruins as a witness to the fulfilment – and permanence – of Christian prophecy. In sum, Adls 1.1 functions as an imaginatively rich prologue to the topographical material that follows. The prologue introduces poignant images, miraculous word pictures and overarching themes. That Adls 1.2 shifts the text’s focus to the individual holy places of Christian Jerusalem further confirms the introductory nature of the opening chapter.60

Intramural Jerusalem Adls’ description of the Holy City makes a fundamental distinction between intramural and extramural Jerusalem. This is foreshadowed in the opening scene in which Arculf stands expectantly before the city walls.61 The baptism of Jerusalem concerns itself with the removal of animal dung from within the walls, while the vignette ends with an acknowledgement that the holy places of Christ were ‘contained within the circuit of [the city] walls’.62 Adls 1.2.1 likewise dwells upon the ‘space enclosed by the city wall’. Cf.  Adls 1.2.2. Apoc 21:22. 59 The argument in TOL (2007), 168-75 and (2000b) that Adomnán fails to recognize that the Saracens were not Christians misses the point. 60 Adls places a key organizational marker (1.2.1) precisely at the transition between the prologue of Jerusalem (1.1) and the beginning of the intramural material (1.2-11). 61 Cf.  Adls 1.1.1-6. 62 Cf.  Adls 1.1.7-13. 57

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Having established the Temple as past prologue, the intramural section, Adls 1.2-11, begins with the Rotunda over the tomb of Christ and ends with the column of the Miraculous Healing. The ensuing chapter on the church of Mary’s Tomb commences the extramural material. While Adls 1.2-8 clearly pertains to the Holy Sepulchre, the primary topographical task concerns the locations of Adls 1.9-11, two cloth relics and the column of the Miraculous Healing. Once a Holy Sepulchre setting for the column has been established, we will work backwards to confirm that the cloth relics were likewise located within the complex. While Adls 1.2.1 and the sequence of Adls 1.2-11 provides supporting evidence, the respective locations will be verified by independent sources. The discussion will demonstrate that Adls’ account of intramural Jerusalem is limited to the Holy Sepulchre. In order to fully achieve this, Adls omits the pool of Bethesda and places Holy Sion outside the city walls. Entering Jerusalem Literarily speaking, through which of the gates did Arculf enter the city? Adls shows a definite favouritism to David’s Gate on the western side of the city. David’s Gate is the first one listed in Adls 1.1.2-3, which makes a clockwise circuit of the city walls. While the gate is cited three times in the text, none of the other gates listed in Adls 1.1.2-3 are mentioned a second time.63 The baptism waters of Jerusalem flow out unnamed eastern gates, and no gates are specified in Adls’ description of the Jehoshaphat Valley.64 Adls favours the gate of David on the western side of the city, and the text contains a literary presumption that Arculf used it to enter Jerusalem.65 When we next meet Arculf, he is standing before the tomb of Christ at the western end of the Holy Sepulchre. The Complex of the Holy Sepulchre Commencing Adls’ description of the Holy City, Adomnán quotes Arculf as saying: ‘I remember how often I used to see and visit the many buildings in the city, and look at numerous large stone houses filling the Cf.  Adls 1.1.2; 1.1.4 and 1.16. Cf.  Adls 1.1.12 and 1.12-15. 65 The West Gate orientation of the text does not imply the direction of Arculf ’s initial approach to the Holy City. The emphasis on the West Gate, which is relatively close to the Holy Sepulchre, may relate to where he stayed within the city during his nine-month residence. 63

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space enclosed by the city wall … But for the present let us say nothing of any of them, except the amazing buildings in the holy places of the Cross and Resurrection’.66 The quote is worth emphasizing: Adls explicitly tells the reader that the ensuing description of Jerusalem will say nothing of the space within the city walls except for the ‘buildings in the holy places of the Cross and Resurrection’. This is exactly what Adls sets out to do. Before proceeding further, ‘the amazing buildings in the holy places of the Cross and Resurrection’, a reference to the complex of the Holy Sepulchre, needs qualification. How is the complex defined, and what exactly did it consist of? Moving from west to east, the three main components of the complex were the Rotunda, or the Anastasis, housing the tomb of Christ, the place of the crucifixion known as Calvary, or Golgotha, and the basilica of Constantine, or the Martyrium, which commemorated the legend of the True Cross. The complex included various chapels and churches, upper galleries, porticos and atriums, outside areas and a monumental eastern entrance.67 The Holy Sepulchre was located in the heart of Jerusalem and communicated directly with the city’s cardo maximus. It is important to note that Arculf ’s statement does not restrict itself to Golgotha and the tomb of Christ; it includes the entire complex. Along with the two holiest sites in Christendom, the Holy Sepulchre contained additional objects and commemorations, some having no direct association with Jesus’ death and resurrection.68 The supernumerary stations were an integral part of the complex’s commemorative fabric. Although it may seem odd that Adls’ focus on the holy places of Christ includes descriptions of seemingly peripheral items, the Holy Sepulchre was the corporal fulfilment of divine revelation and the repository of Christian holiness. The secondary commemorations collectively enhanced the sacrality of the site, and any commemoration located within the complex assumed a status that set it apart from rest of Jerusalem’s commemorative landscape. Before turning to the details, an additional point is worth raising: Adls provides no explanation for the intramural location of the Adls 1.2.1. For a floor plan of the Holy Sepulchre prior to its destruction in 1009, see Gibson’s plan in Aist (2008a), 48, a modified version of its original publication in Gibson and Taylor (1994). The northern wall of the complex has been removed. 68 The Holy Sepulchre included a secondary focus on Mary; cf. Itin. 20; Adls 1.10 and Hag. 4. 66 67

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Holy Sepulchre, which commemorated biblical events that took place outside the city walls. While Bede addresses the anomaly, Adls is silent on the subject.69 How could the holy sites of Christ be genuine if they were located inside the city walls? If Adomnán was interested in establishing the truths of Scripture, how could he leave the location of Christ’s tomb unexplained? The silence seems rather puzzling for a biblical exegete intent upon resolving scriptural conundrums.70 Yet, Adls seems perfectly at ease with the intramural location of the holy sites – as if they should be inside the walls. The lack of a qualifying explanation is consistent with the text’s theological image of the city, one that is more interested in the eschatological present than it is in the exegetical past. The Anastasis and the Tomb of Christ Adls begins with the Anastasis before describing the tomb of Christ in the centre of the circular church.71 The architectural features of the Anastasis are described in some detail: it was a large, round church made entirely out of stone. It contained three concentric walls, and their corresponding ambulatories were the width of a city street. Special altar niches were in the north, south and west points of the middle wall. The church was supported by twelve columns of remarkable size. In the northeast and southeast corners of the church, the three walls had two sets of four doors opening into an inner courtyard. The details respectively appear in Adls’ diagram of the Holy Sepulchre.72 In the centre of the Anastasis was a small aedicule (tugurium) hewn out of stone with its entrance to the east. The exterior of the structure was covered with fine marble, while its roof was decorated with gold and crowned with a large golden cross. Inside the structure was the burial chamber of Christ. Seeking to clarify the synonymous terms, monumentum and sepulchrum, Adls stipulates that the tomb, or monumentum, was the entire rock aedicule, while the sepulchre was the interior burial shelf, or burial bench, on the right, or to the north, as one Cf.  Bdls 1.1; also see Willibald’s explanation in VW 18. While the intramural location of the holy places relates to the history of Jerusalem, a biblical exegete would presumably want to clarify the quandary. Adomnán’s inattention to the issue runs counter to the argument that Adls was written as an exegetical manual. Cf. appendix 2. 71 Cf.  Adls 1.2. 72 Cf. JW (2002), 371, 379-86. 69 70

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entered the tomb. Adls dispels an apparent misconception that there was a ridge on the rock bench that separated different parts of the body: it was a single shelf without division. While the entire tomb chamber could be described as a cave, the recess of the shelf itself, which, on the north, faced south within the chamber, could likewise be thought of a small cavern with a low roof.73 There was no ornamentation within the tomb, and the chisel marks of the masons could still be seen. The exposed rock was a mixture of red and white. One stepped up to enter the chamber, and common to pilgrim tradition, Arculf measured the dimensions of the tomb. The elevation of the step was the width of three palms. Nine men could stand inside the tomb, while its ceiling was a foot and a half above the height of an average man’s head. The burial bench was seven feet long. Despite the lack of decoration, the tomb chamber contained one notable feature: twelve oil lamps representing the number of apostles. Four were at the foot of the bench, while eight lamps hung over it, producing bright light within the tomb. The tomb’s illumination – light inside an otherwise empty tomb – was a witness to and as a manifestation of Christ’s resurrection. The tomb is the first of three instances in which Adls uses lamps to underscore the special sacrality of a holy site.74 Adls’ account – its interplay with Scripture, its attention to colour, materials, directions and measurements, and the use of lamps as symbolic indicators of the tomb’s sacrality – is one of the richest pre-Crusader descriptions of the tomb of Christ and reflects Arculf ’s detailed observance of the site. Adomnán splices the account with a clarification of biblical nomenclature and a reference from Jerome that interprets Is 33:16-17 as a prophecy of Christ’s burial cave.75 Adls’ plan of the Holy Sepulchre depicts the tomb as round with an opening to the east. A rectangle on the upper, or northern, half of the circle represents the burial shelf.76

Adls is describing an arcosolium tomb. Adls uses the image of lamps to establish the tomb of Christ (1.2.12), Golgotha (1.5.1 and 1.6.3) and the Ascension church (1.23.10) as the three holiest sites in the text. By contrast, Adls makes no reference to lamps at Holy Sion, Mary’s tomb, the grotto of Gethsemane or the tomb of Lazarus, despite the assumption that lamps were used at every site. 75 Cf.  Adls 1.2.13; Jerome, Commentariorum in Matheum 27.64. 76 Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. The twelve lamps, eight up and four down, are depicted in Vindobonensis 458. 73 74

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The Stone of the Tomb The stone in front of the tomb, mentioned in each of the gospel accounts, was a significant commemorative feature of the site.77 Arculf reports that the stone was split into two pieces and that each piece had been shaped into an altar. The smaller stone was immediately in front of the tomb, while the larger one faced the tomb from the eastern wall of the Anastasis. Both stone altars are represented on Adls’ drawing of the Holy Sepulchre.78 The Church of Mary As one progressed east, the rectangular church of Mary, the mother of Jesus, was to the right, or south, of the Anastasis.79 The church correspondingly appears to the southeast of the Anastasis in the manuscripts drawings.80 The Marian church appears to be mentioned by Bernard, who refers to four adjoining churches of special importance surrounding the inner atrium of the Holy Sepulchre, two of which were located on its southern side.81 While one was Calvary, neither the name nor the commemoration of the other church is provided. However, both texts refer to a church west of Calvary, and its proximity to Calvary, together with Adls’ clarification that the church was dedicated to the mother of Jesus, suggests that the church commemorated Mary’s presence at the crucifixion. The qualifier, mother of Jesus, is necessary since the Gospels place three Marys at the scene of the cross.82

77 Cf.  Adls 1.3 with Mt 27:60, 66; Mt 28:2; Mk 15:46; Mk 16:1-4; Lk 24:2 and Jn 20:1. Also see Anacr. 20.11-12; VW 18 and Photius 6. The stone is prominently depicted on the Monza 5 ampulla; cf. JW (1999), 174 and Barag and Wilkinson (1974). 78 Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. 79 Cf.  Adls 1.4. 80 Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. 81 Cf.  It. Bern. 11. The statement in JW (2002), 365 that the church of Mary may possibly describe the Nea Church demonstrates an inattention to textual context, Adls’ plan of the Holy Sepulchre and the evidence of Bernard, exemplifying Wilkinson’s lack of a methodological approach to the material. 82 Cf. Mt 27:61; Mk 16:1; Lk 24:10 and Jn 19:25. The present-day Armenian station of the Holy Women, west of Calvary and marked by a baldachin, recognizes Jesus’ mother and the other women who witnessed the crucifixion, expressing a commemorative continuity with Adls 1.4.

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Golgotha Moving further east, Adls introduces the church of Golgotha, or Calvary, built on the site of Jesus’ crucifixion.83 The place was marked by a great silver cross that was fixed into the socket where the Saviour’s wooden cross had once stood. Hanging from the roof, a large bronze wheel full of lamps illuminated the church, while additional lamps burned continuously day and night in the adjacent courtyard, the second instance in which the theme of illumination indicates the special status of a holy site.84 While the place of the crucifixion was in the upper part of the Golgotha church, a cave cut into the underneath rock contained an altar for the souls of the blessed departed. Their bodies were present, outside the door of the church, when the liturgy was performed. Adls’ description of the lower church fails to mention the long-held exegetical and commemorative association of the foot of Calvary with the tomb of Adam.85 Christ was a second Adam who had come to redeem humankind – ‘for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ’.86 Jesus’ death paid for the sins of Adam, and by placing the tomb of Adam at the foot of the cross, Christians imagined that human atonement had been accomplished through the blood of Christ literally dripping on the bones of Adam. Two seventh-century sources, AG and Epiphanius, confirm that the Golgotha tradition was actively recognized at the time of Arculf.87 While Adls fails to mention Adam’s tomb, its depiction of the lower chapel as a place where mass for the privileged dead was performed in the presence of their physical bodies effectively describes the liturgical reenactment of the doctrine of physical atonement. In a space physically expressing the theological juxtaposition between Christ and Adam, the liturgy of the dead embodied the doctrine commemorated by Adam’s tomb (‘for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ’). Adls depicts the function of the Adamic commemoration without actually naming it. Both the internal and external evidence indicates that Arculf was cognizant of the commemoration, and he presumably told Adomnán Cf.  Adls 1.5. Cf.  Adls 1.5.1 and 1.6.3. Also see Adls 1.2.12 and 1.23.10. 85 Cf. Origen, Commentary on St Matthew 27.33; JW (2002), 309 and 363. 86 1 Cor 15:22. Cf. Rom 5:12 ff. and 1 Cor 15:21 ff. with attention to 1 Cor 15:4583

84

49.

87

Cf.  AG 3; Hag. 2.

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about the chapel’s association with Adam. Its theological imagery should have appealed to the abbot’s exegetical interests. Yet, despite the profound interplay of Scripture, doctrine and topography, Adam’s tomb is omitted from Adls’ description of Golgotha. Instead, Adls places the commemoration among the tombs of the Patriarchs, or the tombs of ‘Arba’ (four), in Hebron, following Jerome’s argument that Adam was the fourth patriarch buried there.88 Jerome made use of a rabbinic tradition, and while Christians believed that four patriarchs were buried in Hebron – the fourth being either Caleb or Joseph – there is no tradition outside of the Jerome–Adomnán–Bede transmission locating Adam’s tomb in Hebron.89 Christian tradition firmly placed it at the foot of Calvary. While Arculf was a source for the Hebron material, Adls’ identification of Adam with the tombs of the Patriarchs is an example in which Adls favours the ancient writings over the pilgrim’s report, and even if the fourth tomb that Arculf saw was identified with Joseph, Adls 2.9.4-5 explicitly associates it with Adam. What Adomnán heard from Arculf was tweaked by what he read in Jerome.90 It is, nonetheless, surprising that Adls dismisses the exegetically rich tradition of Calvary in favour of Hebron. Since Adls presents the Holy Sepulchre as the contemporary manifestation of Revelation 21, could Adomnán’s support of the Hebron tradition be somehow related to the New Jerusalem theme dominating Book 1? Did Adls intentionally exclude Adam’s tomb from its description of the Holy Sepulchre in order to preserve the symbolism of the tomb of Christ as the throne of Christ? Although the point is more easily explained by Adomnán’s adherence to Jerome, the speculation is rather plausible. Just as there is only one site within the city walls, Adls recognizes but a single tomb in the Holy Sepulchre. Adomnán may have felt that admitting Adam’s tomb would have unnecessarily crowded the New Jerusalem imagery focused upon the tomb throne of Christ. Cf. Jerome, Q. H. Gen. 23.2; TOL (1992a). Cf.  Itin. 30, which identifies the fourth person as Joseph. 90 Throughout Book 1, Adomnán follows Arculf over Jerome, omitting, for instance, the pool of Bethesda contained in Lib. Loc. 59.22-25. With respect to the Jerusalem material, the study disputes the position espoused by O’Loughlin and expressed in Limor (2004), 264 that ‘Adomnán considered books to be the more authoritative purveyors of information, whereas Arculf was merely a transient eyewitness who corroborated that information’. As discussed throughout the chapter, the influence of Arculf over the ancient texts, including Eucherius and Jerome, is expressed in the structure, contents and imagery of Book 1. 88

89

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The Martyrium and the Altar of Abraham Moving yet again to the east and adjoining the church of Calvary was the Martyrium, the basilica of great magnificence built by Constantine upon the site where the Lord’s cross ‘was discovered, hidden underground, together with the crosses of the two robbers’.91 Adls makes no mention of Helena’s involvement in the discovery, an omission that also occurs in its reference to the Miraculous Healing.92 The description of the Martyrium is otherwise bare. No details of its appearance or architectural features are provided; the location where the True Cross was found is not specified. The chapter continues by moving slightly backwards.93 Somewhere between Calvary and the Martyrium was the altar of Abraham, linked to the crucifixion event by the idea that the patriarch’s near sacrifice of his son Isaac prefigured God’s redemptive sacrifice of his own son.94 Adls describes the altar as a large wooden table upon which alms for the poor were offered. When Adomnán questioned Arculf further, he mentioned the inner courtyard of the complex, which was adjoined on three sides by the Anastasis, the church of Golgotha and the basilica of Constantine. In the manuscript drawings, the altar of Abraham is placed in the upper right-hand, or northeast, corner of the courtyard.95 Given the altar’s connection with the crucifixion and Adls’ indication that it was between Calvary and the Martyrium, it was likely located slightly lower, or further south, than it appears in the plans. The Chalice and Sponge Adls 1.7 places the chalice of the Lord’s Supper in a chapel that was also located between the church of Golgotha and the Martyrium. As opposed to the altar of Abraham, its placement on the manuscript drawings corresponds more faithfully to the text.96 The cup was silver with

Cf.  Adls 1.6. Cf.  Adls 1.11. Bede adds Helena to his description of Bdls 2.1. 93 The descriptions of the altar of Abraham (1.6) and the Lord’s chalice (1.7), both located in the interior courtyard of the complex, briefly backtrack on Adls’ west-to-east progression through the Holy Sepulchre. The text moves from one main church, Golgotha (1.5), to another, the Martyrium (1.6), before mentioning the commemorations in-between. 94 Cf. Gen 22:1-14. 95 Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. 96 Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. 91

92

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a handle on each side and measured the size of a French quart.97 Inside the cup was the sponge that had been filled with vinegar, placed upon hyssop and put to Jesus’ mouth as he hung upon the cross.98 The commemoration of the chalice is given in some detail: the cup was blessed by Jesus ‘during the supper which he had with the apostles on the day before he suffered’; it was also from this cup that ‘the Lord drank when he ate with the disciples after the resurrection’.99 One narrative detail, in particular, linked the biblical story to the pilgrim experience: Adls’ emphasis that Jesus gave the cup to his disciples ‘with his own hands’. The chalice had been placed inside a reliquary that had a pierced door allowing Arculf to venerate it by likewise ‘touching it with his hand’. The pilgrim experience emphasized physical contact, and Arculf, along with the ‘whole population of the city’, did not simply touch the cup that the Lord had blessed, he touched what Jesus had likewise touched with his own hands. The Soldier’s Lance Adls 1.8 succinctly describes the commemoration, appearance and location of the soldier’s lance. It had been used to pierce the Lord’s side as he was hanging on the cross.100 Divided into two pieces, the venerated object had been set into a wooden cross and was kept in the basilica’s portico.101 The most remarkable thing about the lance is that it does not appear in the manuscript drawings, the first of four Holy Sepulchre chapters not represented on the diagram, raising attention to the fact that the plans do not extend beyond the eastern door of the basilica.102 While the lance’s omission from the plans is consistent with its location in the outer atrium, the point significantly informs Adls 1.9-11, chapters not depicted in the diagram that likewise pertain to the Holy Sepulchre.

97 Cf.  AG 1, which describes ‘Christ’s cup [as] covered with gold’, and Hag. 3, which states that ‘the cup from which Christ drank … is like a chalice of emerald plainly set’. 98 Cf. Jn 19:29. 99 Adls 1.7.1-3; cf. Mt 26:26-29; Mk 14:22-25; Lk 22:14-20 and 1 Cor 11:23-29. 100 Cf. Jn 19:31-37. 101 While the sources uniformly place the lance in the Holy Sepulchre, there are slight discrepancies or imprecisions regarding its exact location. AG 1 places it in the gallery of the Anastasis, while Anacr. 20.43-52 locates the spear in an ‘upper room’ of the basilica. Hag. 3 also mentions the spear in relation to the basilica. 102 Cf. Adls 1.8-11; JW (2002), 379-86.

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The Column of the Miraculous Healing While Adls 1.2-8 is unquestionably Holy Sepulchre material, the locations of Adls 1.9-11 are not as explicit. We will start by establishing the placement of Adls’ giant column before discussing the respective locations of the cloth relics. Influenced by the Madaba Map, scholars have unreflectively identified Adls 1.11 with the prominent column depicted in the semi-circular plaza inside the city’s northern gate. However, since the Miraculous Healing and the centre of the world are explicitly associated with the Holy Sepulchre, the criterion of commemorative credibility suggests that the column was located in or near the complex.103 Three independent texts as well as the internal evidence of Adls confirm the assumption.104 We have previously analyzed the respective descriptions of Adls and Epiphanius, which we will briefly summarize before introducing the additional testimonies of Daniel the Abbot and Willibald.105 Adls’ reference to ‘the middle of the city’ is a recognized designator of the Holy Sepulchre, while the qualifier ‘north of the holy places’ is congruous with Epiphanius’ depiction of a monument, likewise dedicated to the Miraculous Healing, that was left of the eastern end of the Holy Sepulchre as one faced east.106 Since Epiphanius uses the identical description, tetrakoinin, or a structure with four columns, to denote a commemoration outside the city’s East Gate, we can presume that Eucherius’ monument of the Miraculous Healing was similarly outdoors where it could cast a noonday shadow as described in Adls 1.11.107 Adls’ description of a very tall column (ualde summa columna) has been reconciled with Epiphanius’ use of the Greek, tetrakoinin, through the parallel example of the Jephonias monument in which columna and tetrakoinin are respectively used by a Latin and Greek writer to describe the structure.108 Both texts mention the site immediately after a Marian commemora103 Both commemorations had a commemorative history with the site. Brev. B2 places the Miraculous Healing in an exedra near the place of the crucifixion. Anacr. 20.29-32 and It. Bern. 11 mark the centre of the world within the Holy Sepulchre. 104 See Aist (2008a) and (2009), 68-107. 105 Cf. Adls 1.11 and Hag. 4. The monument is discussed throughout ch. 2, esp. ‘Applying the Fourfold Methodology’. 106 On ‘the middle of Jerusalem’ as a descriptor of the Holy Sepulchre, see Melito of Sardis, Paschal Homily 71-72 and 93-94; Brev. 1; Brev. A1; Brev. B2 and Hag. 2. The Madaba Map locates the Holy Sepulchre in the exact centre of the city. 107 Cf. Hag. 24 with Adls 1.11.2-4. 108 Cf. Hag. 24 with VW 20. Also see Aist (2008a), 49-50 and (2009), 95-96.

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tion – Adls’ church of Mary’s Weaving and Epiphanius’ house of Joseph – while the Miraculous Healing ends their accounts of the Holy Sepulchre.109 Exhibiting a common witness to commemoration, location, appearance and sequence, the texts place the structure slightly to the left, or north, of the eastern end of the basilica. The area, which communicated with the cardo, is compatible with a final detail in each of the two texts. According to Epiphanius, the monument was where Helena met a passing funeral procession, while per Adls, it was located ‘where it is seen by every passer-by’.110 The early Crusader account of Daniel the Abbot, who surveyed the ruins of the basilica that was destroyed in 1009, corroborates the collective witness of Adls and Epiphanius. While Daniel cites Helena’s discovery of the True Cross with respect to two distinct locations, the Miraculous Healing, described in terms of the restoration of a dead virgin, is the second of the two references: Here is the place where St Helena found the True Cross near the place of the Lord’s crucifixion … And on that spot a very large square church (dedicated to the Exaltation of the True Cross) was built, but now there is only a small church. Here to the East is the great door to which came St Mary the Egyptian desiring to enter and kiss [the cross], but the power of the Holy Spirit would not admit her to the church. And then she prayed to the Holy Mother of God whose icon was in the porch near the door, and then she was able to enter the church and kiss the True Cross. By this door she went out again into the desert of the Jordan. And near this door is the place where St Helena discovered the true cross of the Lord, instantly restoring a dead virgin to life.111

In agreement with Adls and Epiphanius, Daniel locates the Miraculous Healing near the eastern door of the former church of the True Cross, or the basilica of Constantine. Similar to Epiphanius, the Miraculous Healing is mentioned after a reference to the icon of Mary.112 As Daniel is surveying a ruined landscape, the monument had presumably been destroyed, which accounts for the fact that no details of its physical appearance are provided. Cf. Adls 1.10-12 and Hag. 4-5. Cf. Hag. 4 and Adls 1.11.1. As previously stated, I presume the column was on or near the cardo somewhere between the eastern entrance of the Holy Sepulchre and the present-day intersection of Souk Khan el-Zeit and the Via Dolorosa. 111 WB 15, translated in JW (1988), 131. 112 Cf. WB 15 with Hag. 4. 109 110

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Willibald provides a fourth source for the site. His description of Jerusalem opens with ‘the place where the Lord’s Holy Cross was found. There is now a church on the place called the place of Calvary’.113 The church denotes either the basilica of Constantine or the general complex of the Holy Sepulchre. It is unlikely that it refers to the church of Calvary within the complex. A second reference to the place of the Holy Cross associates the site with Willibald’s recovery from a two-month blindness: ‘as he entered the church where the Holy Cross was discovered, his eyes were opened and he received his sight’.114 Willibald’s allusions to the Holy Cross raise two questions. Why, in the first instance, does he introduce the site before mentioning the church, and, secondly, why does he attribute his healing to the entrance of the church? In short, Willibald’s second reference, which refers to the place of the Holy Cross as he entered the church, is an implicit reference to the commemoration of the Miraculous Healing. That is, prior to entering the basilica of Constantine, Willibald encountered the monument, a location of physical healing, to which he attributed the restoration of his eyesight. Although Willibald does not explicitly mention the Miraculous Healing, Daniel also refers to the site in terms of ‘where the Holy Cross was found’.115 In short, three independent sources – Epiphanius, Daniel the Abbot and Willibald – confirm that the column of Adls 1.11 was located among ‘the amazing buildings in the holy places of the Cross and Resurrection’.116 The Church of Mary’s Weaving While the locational details are decidedly vague, two assumptions inform our search for the cloth relics of Adls 1.9-10. First of all, as per Adls 1.2.1, if the cloth relics were inside the city, then the evidence implies that they were located in the Holy Sepulchre. Secondly, since Adls 1.9-10 is sandwiched between Adls 1.2-8 and 1.11, the context suggests that the relics were likewise in the Holy Sepulchre. Independent sources verify the arguments.

VW 18. VW 25. 115 Cf. Aist (2009), 77-79 and (2008a), 40-42. 116 Additional arguments regarding the location of Adls 1.11 include the statement of Adls 1.2.1, the sequential context of Adls 1.2-11 and the principle of commemorative credibility. 113

114

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As previously discussed, the church of Mary’s Weaving is the same as Epiphanius’ house of Joseph, which we now address in more detail.117 First of all, the sites share a common commemoration. According to Jerusalem tradition, Mary was born in Jerusalem and dedicated to Temple service at the age of three. Just prior to reaching puberty, the Temple priests arranged her marriage by summonsing the eligible widowers. The lot fell to Joseph, who, depicted as significantly older and with his own children, lodged Mary in his home and, subsequently, left the city due to work. There, in Joseph’s house, Mary set herself to weaving linen for the Temple, and while Joseph was still away, the Annunciation – the angel’s announcement to Mary that she was pregnant with the Christ child – took place in the house.118 Secondly, since the Byzantine period, Marian commemorations were associated with the general area of the basilica, which is consistent with Epiphanius’ placement of the icon of Mary and the house of Joseph.119 Third, the church of Mary’s Weaving and the house of Joseph appear immediately prior to the monument of the Miraculous Healing in both texts. The convergence of commemoration, location and sequence confirms that Epiphanius’ house of Joseph and Adls’ church of Mary are one and the same, while the parallel sequence between Epiphanius and Adls 1.10-11 suggests that that the church of Mary’s Weaving and the column of the Miraculous Healing were adjacent sites at the eastern end of the basilica. The Head Cloth of Christ All we know from Adls 1.9 regarding the location of the head cloth, or sudarium, is that it was ‘preserved in a church’. Given the object’s relevance to the death and burial of Christ, the principle of commemorative credibility makes the Holy Sepulchre the most plausible setting, while two additional considerations confirm the point. First of all, its location is corroborated by the early ninth-century Commemoratorium, which states that the head cloth was in the Holy Sepulchre where it was looked after by two priests.120 Secondly, since the column of Adls 1.11 and the Cf. Adls 1.10 with Hag. 4. Cf. Proto. 7-11. Icons of the Annunciation occasionally show Mary in the act of weaving. The anachronistic depiction of the Lord and the apostles can be explained by a gift of prophetic foresight. The theme of Christ does not date the setting of relic to a later stage of Mary’s life. 119 Cf. Itin. 20 with Hag. 4. 120 Comm. 1. 117 118

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church of Adls 1.10 have been securely placed within the precincts of the Holy Sepulchre, continuing the west-to-east walkthrough of the complex begun in Adls 1.2-8, the sequential context of Adls adds further verification that the head cloth of Adls 1.9 was preserved in the complex. Completing the final piece of the puzzle, we have now established that Adls’ description of intramural Jerusalem and its account of the Holy Sepulchre are one and the same. The Omission of the Pool of Bethesda We now turn to the first of two manipulations related to Adls’ depiction of intramural Jerusalem: the omission of the pool of Bethesda, also known as the Probatica, or the Sheep Pool, the setting of Jesus’ healing of the paralytic in Jn 5.121 The omission is foreshadowed in Adls 1.2.1, which implies that material has been left out in order to focus on the buildings of the Holy Sepulchre. Since shortly after the time of Christ when the city was expanded, the twin pools of Bethesda were located just inside the city’s East Gate. Byzantine sources indicate that the southern pool was red with silt, and by the Crusader period, the commemoration was translated to the nearby pool of Israel.122 Nonetheless, the original site, which was a key station of the pilgrim circuit, remained an important holy place during the first half of the Early Islamic period as indicated by Epiphanius and Willibald.123 As a prominent intramural site, the pool of Bethesda was clearly known to Arculf, who presumably mentioned it to Adomnán. In any case, the abbot was aware of the site through his written sources. Along with Jn 5:2, which describes a pool in Jerusalem with five porticos that was super Probatica, Adomnán had Eucherius’ account of the site: ‘near the Temple is the pool of Bethesda, distinguished by its twin pools. One is usually filled by winter rains, but the other is filled with dirty red water.’124 Adomnán similarly possessed Jerome’s description of Bethesda, which described the place as ‘a bathing-pool in Jerusalem which is called Probatica … Formerly it had five porticos, and twin The site also commemorated the nativity of Mary. Cf. Aist (2008a), 147-56. The association of the Bethesda commemoration with the pool of Israel appears on the twelfth-century Cambrai Map; cf. Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 114. 123 Cf. Hag. 5 and VW 19. Also see the early seventh-century description of the site in Anacr. 20.81-90. 124 Ep. Faust. 8. 121

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pools are to be seen there. One of them is filled by the winter rains, the other reddens somewhat remarkably as if the waters were stained with ancient blood and shows works and miracles’.125 Adomnán knew the pool of Bethesda was an active intramural holy site with a reputation for miraculous cures. Yet, despite possessing at least three written sources describing it, Adomnán omits the pool of Bethesda from his account of the Holy City. The pool’s omission underscores a critical dynamic: Adls is not a catalogue of Adomnán’s complete knowledge of the Holy City. Adomnán left out content contained in his written sources, choosing not to follow the lead of his patristic sources.126 The omission of the pool of Bethesda points to the influence of Arculf, who, as quoted in Adls 1.2.1, indicates that intramural material will be consciously left out in order to focus exclusively upon the Holy Sepulchre. The Extramural Status of Holy Sion We now turn to the central distortion of Book 1 – the extramural status of Holy Sion – which is expressed in a consistent, threefold manner. First of all, Adls’ statement that its account of intramural Jerusalem will only include the buildings of the Holy Sepulchre likewise pertains to Holy Sion. Secondly, Adls 1.1.5-6 describes the southern wall as stretching ‘along the northern edge of Mt Sion [per aquilonale montis Sion supercilium] … from the Gate of David as far as the eastern side of the Mount’. Since the southern wall stretched along the northern edge of Mt Sion, Holy Sion, which was located on its summit, was south of the wall and, thus, outside of the city. Third, Holy Sion is placed within the extramural section of Adls 1.16-19, which begins by taking the reader ‘westwards out of the city’ and ‘through David’s Gate’. In relegating Holy Sion, Adomnán fails once again to follow Eucherius, who emphasizes the intramural status of Holy Sion in the opening lines of his text.127 At issue is not the location of the church itself but the course of the city’s southern wall. Adls refers to the pre-Eudocian wall, which served Jerusalem during the late Roman and early Byzantine periods.128 What Lib. Loc. 59.22-25. Adls also omits Eucherius’ reference to the spring of Siloam; cf. Ep. Faust. 9. 127 Cf. Ep. Faust. 3. 128 Cf. Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 39, 65 and 77. An important note should be made regarding Adls’ description of the southern wall. Adls describes the gate of David on Mt Sion as one of its termini. Adls also envisions David’s Gate as a gate within the 125

126

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influenced Adls to delineate the former line of the southern walls, consequently placing the church outside the city?129 Did Adomnán use a textual source that described the southern wall prior to Eudocia’s expansion of the walls, thus, following an earlier Byzantine text over Eucherius? Or, despite conveying a false picture of seventh-century Jerusalem, is Arculf the source of the information, and, therefore, the distortion represents Adomnán’s favouritism of Arculf over Eucherius? The idea that Adomnán used a hypothetical text over the explicit statements of Eucherius and the implicit evidence of Scripture is unconvincing. Our speculation returns to Arculf and his knowledge of Jerusalem. Could Arculf have encountered physical markers within the city, perhaps combined with interpretations of the local Christian community, that caused Adls to source the obsolete line of the southern wall? A topographical clue appears on the Madaba Map, which depicts a gate at the southern end of the cardo, most likely a remnant of the former wall, through which those walking between the Holy Sepulchre and Holy Sion would presumably have passed.130 The gate, reinforced by extant sections of the wall, physically separated the areas of the two churches. What meaning would the division have triggered in the Christian imagination? Holy Sion was indelibly recognized as the apostolic mother church, the threefold setting of the Lord’s Supper, Pentecost and the death of Mary. Holy Sion represented New Testament Jerusalem, while Christians likewise believed that the summit of the Western Hill was biblical Sion and part of ancient Jerusalem. The death and burial of Christ took place outside of the city walls, and Christian pilgrims understood that the area consisting of the Holy Sepulchre was a more recent expansion of the city. Enhanced by the eschatological significance of the tomb of Christ, pilgrims naturally thought in terms of an old and city’s western wall (i.e., the gate was part of an important thoroughfare ‘on the west’; cf. Adls 1.1.4-5) and not as a gate in the south-western corner of the city. In other words, Adls’ wall ran south before turning east. The other terminus was ‘the eastern side of the Mount [Sion]’. Since Adls’ wall actually ran to the eastern side of the Eastern Hill, the reference expresses the conflation of the Jerusalemite hills that characterizes the text. 129 Since the Scriptures place the Holy Sion commemorations of the Lord’s Supper and Pentecost within the city, we can dismiss the possibility that Adomnán thought the shorter circuit of the southern wall reflected the boundary of Jerusalem during the time of Christ; cf. Mt 26:18; Mk 14:12-16; Lk 22:8-12 and Act 2. Adls consciously depicts an image of the city that does not conform to New Testament Jerusalem, demonstrating a greater interest in producing an eschatological image of the Holy City than in recreating a New Testament blueprint. 130 Also see Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 89, which indicates that portions of the former southern wall were extant throughout the Early Islamic period.

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a new city. While Holy Sion was old Jerusalem, the Holy Sepulchre was New Jerusalem in more ways than one. We can ask once again whether Adls’ impetus to relegate Holy Sion came from Adomnán’s written sources or from Arculf ’s report? At issue is a conscious connection between the relegation of Holy Sion and the image of the Holy Sepulchre as New Jerusalem. It was not simply a question of scriptural eschatology; rather, it involved an interplay between eschatological imagery and the complexities of the city’s physical topography. Without personal knowledge of the city, it is unlikely that Adomnán could have forged the template from a still hypothetical source. Arculf, on the other hand, returned from the Holy Land with nuanced understandings of Holy Sion and the Holy Sepulchre, one almost certainly reinforced by the physical remnants of the former southern wall still visible within the city. The fact that Adls 1.2 attributes Arculf with manipulating the contents of intramural Jerusalem likewise suggests that he was the source behind the relegation of Holy Sion.131

Extramural Jerusalem In turning to Adls’ description of extramural Jerusalem, we begin with some initial comments regarding the organizational constructs that accompany the text. First of all, Jerusalem is defined by the contents of Book 1.132 Secondly, Jerusalem is organized into four subsections: intramural Jerusalem, the Jehoshaphat Valley, Mt Sion and the Mt of Olives. The three extramural sections are delineated in Adls 1.22: ‘the Mt of Olives is the same height as Mt Sion … between these two mountains lie the Valley of Jehoshaphat’. Third, the extramural material includes a band of land adjacent to the city walls, consisting of the Jehoshaphat Valley and Mt Sion, and a non-contiguous area, the Mt of Olives, separated from the city by the Jehoshaphat Valley. Each of the text’s subsections relate to the city walls in some way: intramural, East Gate, West Gate, non-adjacent. We now proceed to the Jehoshaphat Valley, which takes us outside the city’s eastern gate.

131 While the relegation of Holy Sion may have been necessary to preserve a working idea, it seems more likely that the Holy Sion–Holy Sepulchre dichotomy was the primary impetus behind Adls’ image of intramural Jerusalem. In either case, the material was intentionally manipulated; the relegation of Holy Sion is not a ‘mistake’ in the text. 132 By contrast, neither Ep. Faust. nor Bdls, which are organized as single books, have a structural break following the Mt of Olives.

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The Jehoshaphat Valley Adls commences its description of the Jehoshaphat Valley with the round church of Mary’s Tomb.133 The upper level contained four altars. The lower church had an altar at its eastern end, and to the right, or to the south, was the empty rock tomb that formerly contained the body of Mary: ‘how or when or by whom her holy body was carried from this tomb or where it awaits resurrection, no one, says Arculf, can be sure’.134 The church also contained the rock of Agony, which had been placed in a wall of the lower church. In its only mention of Gethsemane, Adls states that Jesus knelt on the rock to pray in the ‘field of Gethsemane’ prior to being betrayed by Judas.135 The rock contained the visible marks of Jesus’ knees as ‘if it had been made of soft wax’.136 Adls continues with the tower of Jehoshaphat, containing his tomb, that was in the valley not far from the Marian church.137 The text then moves to the tombs of Simeon and Joseph, the spouse of Mary, located to the right of the tower.138 Although the orientation of the text is not clear, the description presumes that the reader is facing the tower with his or her back to the city walls; the tombs of Simeon and Joseph were south, or to the right, of the Jehoshaphat monument. The unadorned tombs had been cut out from the rock and were separated from the Mt of Olives. The Jehoshaphat Valley section ends with the description of a cave located on the Mt of Olives not far from the church of Mary’s Tomb (Adls 1.15). Although Adls does not link the cave by name or commemoration to any of the Gethsemane events, it is known as the grotto of Gethsemane and has been associated in Christian tradition as the place of Jesus’ betrayal and arrest. Describing the site as a common gathering place where Jesus frequently ate with his disciples, Adls notes that four rock tables used for the meals were still in the cave. According to the Piacenza Pilgrim, the place of Jesus’ betrayal contained three couches Cf. Adls 1.12-15. Adls 1.12.3. 135 Cf. Mt 26:36-57; Mk 14:32-53; Lk 22:39-54 and Jn 18:1-12. 136 Adls 1.12.4. 137 Cf. Adls 1.13. The tower of Jehoshaphat is known today as the tomb of Absalom. See JMO (2008), 133-34. 138 Cf. Adls 1.14. There are various Christian legends regarding the occupants of the tomb, known today as the tomb of Benei Hezir; cf. It. Burg. 595 and DSTS 9. See JMO (2008), 134. 133

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upon which Jesus reclined, while the ninth-century report of Bernard the Monk describes ‘four round tables at which he had supper’.139 In other words, the grotto of Gethsemane contained ‘furniture’: stone apparatuses associated with the cave’s earlier function as an oil press that pilgrim imagination identified as couches and tables used by Jesus and his disciples.140 References to shared meals between Jesus and his disciples have connotations with the Lord’s Supper. While the Holy Sion setting of the Lord’s Supper and the washing of the disciple’s feet was wellestablished, the grotto is linked to both events in the Byzantine text of Theodosius, indicating the existence of an alternative tradition.141 We will return to the point in our discussion on Bdls. Here, it is sufficient to note that Adls mentions two locations in Jerusalem where Jesus ate with his disciples: the Lord’s Supper on Holy Sion and a cave on the Mt of Olives. Finally, almost half of Adls’ description of the cave is devoted to two deep wells. While the wells obviously made an impression upon Arculf, besides providing an enhanced sense of the cave’s setting, their importance is not established. The inclusion of the wells is indicative of an eyewitness report attending to the physical context of a holy site. Regarding the sequence of the material, the placement of the grotto is notably out of order. While the church of Mary’s Tomb (Adls 1.12) and the grotto of Gethsemane (Adls 1.15) had separate identities and distinct commemorations, they formed an intimate, unified site, and the description of the cave should immediately follow the church. Instead, following the Marian site, Adls moves to the other tombs (Adls 1.13-14), some two hundred meters down the Jehoshaphat Valley to the south, before returning to the grotto, and the section ends almost exactly where it begins. While Adls develops the theme of tombs and the physical movements make sense as a down and back visit, the church–grotto separation distorts the spatial relationship between the sites. Although the grotto is ‘out of place’, the sites of Adls 1.12-15 are logically ordered according to the topographical descriptions contained within the text. The church of Mary’s Tomb was ‘in the Valley of Jehoshaphat’, while the tower of Jehoshaphat was ‘in the valley … not far from the church of St Mary’.142 The tombs of Simeon and Joseph were to Cf. Itin.17; It. Bern. 13. Also see Hag. 26. Cf. Taylor (1993), 192-201 and (1995). 141 On the association of both events with Holy Sion, cf. Anacr. 20.55-62. Both locations, Holy Sion and the grotto of Gethsemane, conflated the Synoptic Passover with the Johannine footwashing. 142 Adls 1.12.1 and 1.13. 139

140

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the right of the tower, and since they had been ‘separated from the Mt of Olives’, they, too, were located in the valley.143 By contrast, the grotto was on the Mt of Olives, ‘not far above’ the church, where it faced the Jehoshaphat Valley.144 Whereas the first three sites were in the valley, the grotto was on the Mt of Olives proper, and irrespective of their spatial relationship, the sites are presented in a logical order moving from the valley to the initial slope of the Mt of Olives. In other words, at some point, the text’s perception of topography takes over from the actual relationship of the respective sites. What could explain the combination of a group of sites arranged in a distorted sequence yet one maintaining an internal coherence with respect to their locational descriptions? It is possible, though unlikely, that both conditions apply to the original report of Arculf, who knew the area extremely well, since he visited Mary’s tomb and the grotto of Gethsemane on numerous occasions during his nine-month sojourn in the Holy City.145 Our speculation turns to Adomnán’s redaction of his oral material. Adomnán may have reordered the sites based upon certain clues in Arculf ’s report or due to some confusion over his own notes.146 In any case, Adomnán ensured that the sequence made logical sense regarding its locational detail. Another scenario, which focuses upon Adomnán as biblical scholar, supposes that he knew that the grotto was Gethsemane despite never stating so in the text and that he deduced the Mt of Olives location of the cave through the gospel descriptions of Jesus’ prayer before his arrest. While Mt 26:36 and Mk 14:32 set the event in Gethsemane, Lk 22:39 locates it on the Mt of Olives. Although Adomnán never associates the cave with Gethsemane, the location of Adls 1.15 conforms to Luke’s account.147 The exegetical scenario is not convincing; yet, it represents the redactional role that the study advo Adls 1.14. Adls 1.15.1. The description is misleading but not inaccurate. While the cave, whose mouth was elevated above Mary’s tomb, can accurately be described as ‘on the Mt of Olives’, the Jehoshaphat Valley–Mt of Olives distinction between the tomb of Mary and the grotto presents a distorted impression of the twinned site. 145 See Adls 1.12.1 and 1.15.3. 146 The latter scenario assumes that Adomnán compensated by making sure that his topographical descriptions of the holy sites made logical sense. The sequence of the Mt of Olives section, which incorrectly identifies the Eleona as south of Bethany, also makes sense as a note-taking error. See ch. 4.2, ‘The Mt of Olives’ 147 The scenario, which is somewhat compelling, would expose Adomnán’s failure to properly identify Adls 1.15. Other ambiguities in the text include the liturgical context of Adls 1.1.7-13 and the locational settings of Adls 1.9-10. 143

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cates for Adomnán, one in which the abbot applies biblical and patristic sources to Arculf ’s report. The Jephonias Monument Adls omits the Jephonias monument, a station that appears in AG, Epiphanius and Willibald.148 Located between the East Gate and the tomb of Mary, the monument commemorated a confrontation between the apostles and a group of Jews that occurred during the funeral procession of Mary.149 While commemorations associated with the end of Mary’s life were integral to the Christian topography of post-Byzantine Jerusalem – her death at Holy Sion, the Jephonias monument and her tomb in the Jehoshaphat Valley – the Jephonias monument had an apparent connection with the column of the Miraculous Healing. First of all, the two monuments were similar in appearance as Latin and Greek writers respectively describe the structures using the same terms.150 Secondly, the monuments first appear in the seventh-century texts, and there are reasons to conclude that they were both built during the brief restoration of Byzantine hegemony between the Persian and Arab conquests.151 The column of the Miraculous Healing, associated with the legend of the Holy Cross, may have been connected to Heraclius’ restoration of the Holy Cross in 629. The Jephonias monument possibly represented a Christian retort to Jewish involvement in the Persian Conquest. In the early decades of the Early Islamic period, Christian pilgrims to Jerusalem encountered a commemorative landscape that had decided anti-Jewish overtones. The supercessionist sentiment represented by the Jephonias monument is not unlike the views expressed in Adls’ image of the Temple and, more explicitly, in the anecdote of the sudarium that details a conflict between believing Christians and unbelieving Jews.152 Arculf frequently encountered the Jephonias monument, passing it on his way to Mary’s tomb, the grotto of Gethsemane and the church of the Ascension. Despite its omission from Adls, the monument was well

Cf. AG 6; Hag. 24; VW 20. The legend is described in ch. 1.7. 150 Cf. Hag. 24 and VW 20 with Hag. 4 and Adls 1.11. Also see chs 4.2, ‘The Column of the Miraculous Healing’. and 2.2, ‘Appearance’. 151 Cf. Aist (2009), 172-73, which is accepted in JMO (2010). 152 Cf. Adls 1.1.14 and 1.9. 148 149

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known to Arculf and may have implicitly contributed to the anti-Jewish attitudes present in the text. Mt Sion Whereas the Jehoshaphat Valley material details sites outside the city’s eastern gate, the second extramural section moves outside the West Gate, surveying the sites of Mt Sion and the Hinnom Valley to the west and south of the city.153 From David’s Gate on ‘a gentle slope of Mt Sion’, ‘one goes westward out of the city’,154 and keeping Mt Sion ‘on the left’, the movement of the text turns in a southerly direction, a shift that Adls fails to make clear. The statement, which makes more sense from the perspective of a person walking the landscape, is an indication that Adls is based upon an oral report. Having turned south out of the western gate, the text then refers to a stone bridge running north to south in the valley below. To the west of the bridge’s centre was the fig tree from which Judas hanged himself.155 Adomnán concludes with a quote from Juvencus: ‘From the fig tree’s top he plucked a monstrous death’.156 Adls, at last, turns to Holy Sion, which stood ‘on a flat site on the summit of Mt Sion’.157 The textual description is notably impoverished. Holy Sion was a ‘very large’ and ‘great’ church that was constructed of stone. Otherwise, little information is given regarding the site’s appearance; one must consult Adls’ drawing of Holy Sion to know that it was rectangular in shape.158 The text fails to mention any of its three primary commemorations – the Lord’s Supper, Pentecost and the death of Mary – the seminal events that gave Holy Sion its identity as the mother church of the Christian faith. Holy Sion is referred to as an apostolic church, while the only commemorations mentioned in the text are the 153 Cf. Adls 1.16-19. Since Adls wrongly maintains that the southern wall did not have any gates, the text must access the extramural area south of the city through the western gate. 154 Adls 1.16. 155 It is not clear if the bridge ran parallel to the north-south section of the Hinnom Valley west of Mt Sion or if the bridge crossed the valley south of Sion after the valley’s easterly turn. The speculation of JW (2002), 169, map 24 regarding the location of the tree seems too far north. The tree was presumably below the present-day Sultan’s pool farther down the valley and closer to Aceldama. See Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 89. 156 Adls 2.17. 157 Adls 1.18.1-3. 158 On Adls’ diagram drawing of Holy Sion, see JW (2002), 371-79.

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scourging of Jesus and the stoning of Stephen. In the other two instances in Book 1 in which a diagram accompanies the description of a holy site, the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension, the text is dominant, and the diagram compliments the written account. In the case of Holy Sion, the diagram substitutes as text, and the presentation of Holy Sion pales in comparison to the details that characterize the other two churches.159 By allowing the labelled diagram to carry the content, Adls’ expresses an ambivalence towards Holy Sion that is consistent with its extramural relegation of the church.160 Adls then describes the cemetery of Aceldama ‘on the southern side of Mt Sion’.161 Except for the chapter heading, the description does not explicitly name the site nor its connection with Judas. The text focuses upon its contemporary appearance.162 A stone wall stands out among the disorder of the small burial plot, and Arculf, who visited the site on numerous occasions, noticed a distinction between a large number of well-buried persons and others, carelessly covered with clothes, who had been left to rot on the ground.163 Aceldama’s function as an active burial place for foreigners takes precedent over its association with Judas and the biblical past. Adls’ account of Aceldama is noteworthy for how it perceives eschatological resonance in the conditions of contemporary Jerusalem. The Mt Sion circuit begins at David’s Gate and ends with Aceldama, and except for the church of Holy Sion located on its summit, the section follows the course of the Hinnom Valley to the west and south of Mt Sion. As discussed elsewhere in more detail, the tree of Judas–Holy Sion–Aceldama sequence accounts for a gate in the Eudocian southern wall that corresponds to the stretch between the tree of Judas and Aceldama.164 The side trip up Mt Sion to the church of Holy Sion conforms to 159 Of the five commemorations referenced by Adomnan, two are mentioned in the text and four are presented in the diagram. Only one, the scourging of Christ, appears in both. 160 Although Adls associates five commemorations with the site and includes a plan of the church, Holy Sion did not particularly capture Arculf ’s imagination. The fact that the mother church of Holy Sion pales in comparison with the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension is consistent with Adls’ emphasis of eschatological themes over the events of the New Testament past. 161 Aceldama was located on the southern escarpment of the Hinnom Valley; cf. Lib. Loc. 39.27. See JMO (2008), 136-37. 162 Cf. Mt 27:3-8 with Act 1:18-19. 163 On tombs as a feature of Adls, see TOL (2000c). 164 See appendix A2.7, ‘Discernible Pathways’.

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the physical pathways and topographical barriers of seventh-century Jerusalem, implicitly revealing that the source behind Adls had a firsthand knowledge of the city’s secondary footpaths. The Interval of Adls 1.20 Following the Mt Sion section and immediately before its introduction of the Mt of Olives, Adls inserts a short chapter, Adls 1.20, which elaborates upon Eucherius’ reference to the rough hilly area around Jerusalem.165 In terms of content, Adls 1.20 is an awkward transition as it refers to terrain that extends well beyond the contents of Book 1, contrasting the rocky countryside and thorny valleys towards the district of Thamna to the wide gentle plains and flourishing olive groves that stretch all the way to Caesarea Palaestinae.166 The material, which describes areas to the north and west of Jerusalem, would fit better in Book 2, particularly since it provides a degree of balance to the two extended circuits of the book that respectively depart to the south and the east of the city.167 While Adls 1.20 and Ep. Faust. 10 each denote a transition that occurs immediately prior to the Mt of Olives, the two texts differ regarding the preceding material. In Ep. Faust., the transition follows intramural Jerusalem and the Jehoshaphat Valley, while in Adls, it follows intramural Jerusalem and two extramural sections, the Jehoshaphat Valley and Mt Sion. In other words, Adls has an extramural section on Mt Sion that does not appear in Eucherius. As the preceding material in Adls (the Jehoshaphat Valley–Mt Sion circuits) has covered the ground immediately outside the city walls stretching from the East Gate to the West Gate on the southern half of the city, the transition effectively underscores a component element in Adls’ image of Jerusalem: the band of land adjacent to the city walls. In other words, after describing the intramural sites, the two circuits respectively exiting from the eastern and the western gate cover the area immediately outside the walls. The

Cf. Ep. Faust. 10 with Adls 1.20. The descriptions are compatible with Arculf ’s travels. Since Adls implies that he returned to Jerusalem from Tyre, he knew the landscape between Caesarea Palaestinae and Jerusalem. He likewise knew the land directly west of Jerusalem as Adls 2.30.2 states that he travelled from Jerusalem to Joppa when he departed the Holy Land. The chapter likely builds upon Arculf ’s experience of the land, while place names, such as Aelia and Thamna, are taken from Adomnán’s written sources. 167 Cf. Adls 2.1-12 and 2.13 ff. 165

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transition of Adls 1.20 occurs between the extramural band and the non-contiguous area of the Mt of Olives.168 While Adls 1.20 strengthens the unity of the preceding material, what does it say about the Mt of Olives? The structure of Book 1 clearly defines the Mt of Olives as part of greater Jerusalem. However, the transitional shift of Adls 1.20 establishes the mountain as an area distinct from the Holy City. On one hand, the remarkable illumination of the lamps of the Ascension church is meant to convey the physical and spiritual intimacy of the Mt of Olives and the city of Jerusalem.169 On the other hand, the mountain’s distinctiveness is expressed in the closing lines of Book 1, which refer to ‘the holy city Jerusalem, the Mt of Olives and the Valley of Jehoshaphat’.170 The phrase succinctly captures the threefold divisions of Jerusalem: the intramural city, the Mt of Olives on the city’s outer limit and the extramural buffer of the Jehoshaphat Valley separating the two. The Mt of Olives Adls 1.21-22 formally introduces the Mt of Olives. There are few trees on the mountain except for vines and olives. Corn and barley flourishes there, and the soil bears a good quality of grass and flowers. In comparison to Mt Sion, both mountains are the same height, while the Mt of Olives is longer and wider. The Jehoshaphat Valley, which runs north to south, separates the two mountains. Adls’ circuit of the Mt of Olives begins with the church of the Ascension, one of the most detailed and imaginative accounts of the entire text.171 The church’s identity as one of Jerusalem’s holiest sites is indicated by Adls’ attention to the illumination of lamps, which also occurs in its descriptions of the tomb of Christ and Golgotha. The Ascension lamps appear to set the place on fire; a lamp burns continuously over the footprints of Christ, while eight lamps positioned in the church’s western windows light up the Jehoshaphat Valley all the way to the city walls. On the feast of the Ascension, additional lamps increase the illumination. The account begins by emphasizing the interplay between the site’s architectural design and the Ascension narrative: the round, roofless church allows pilgrims to visualize the story from where Je See fig. 9. Cf. Adls 1.23.12, 20. 170 Adls 1.25.9. 171 Cf. Adls 1.23. 168

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sus last stood on earth to the heavens into which he was taken. Adls then discusses the miraculous nature of Jesus’ footprints, incorporating Sulpicius Severus’ early fifth-century account into Arculf ’s contemporary report.172 Both sources detail the pilgrim practice of taking holy dirt from the site. Arculf also describes a violent wind that miraculously blows through the church on the feast of the Ascension, an annual phenomenon that recalls the divine mandate not to cover the sacred footsteps of Christ.173 The manuscript drawings of the church emphasize its round shape, the circular railing that surrounded the footsteps, the opening in the railing’s western end that allowed pilgrims access to the sacred soil and the eight lamps in the western wall.174 Certain features on the plans are not mentioned in the text. Similar to the Anastasis, the church is depicted as having three concentric walls separated by ambulatories. An eastern altar and a set of southern doors are also included in the diagram. The text then proceeds to Bethany, described as a small clearing surrounded by olive groves.175 There was a great monastery in Bethany as well as a large church that had been built over the tomb of Lazarus. No locational details are given regarding Bethany; however, readers knew from Scripture that it was on the Mt of Olives two miles from Jerusalem.176 The most noteworthy aspect of the chapter is its understated attention to the tomb of Lazarus, which was the reason why pilgrims went to Bethany in the first place. The account reads as if someone is approaching the site from the view point of a walker as the tomb of Lazarus, the point of arrival, is not mentioned until the end. The Bethany material will be adjusted by Bede. Few chapters in Adls have received more attention than Adls 1.25, an account of the Eleona, introduced as ‘another famous church’ built on the spot where Jesus addressed his disciples on the Mt of Olives.177 The chapter sparks a number of questions. The first is topographical. Since the Eleona was damaged in the Persian conquest of 614, scholars have questioned whether there was actually a church on the site at the time of

Cf. Sulpicius Severus, Chronicon, 2.33.6-8. Cf. Adls 1.23.15-17. 174 On Adls’ plan the church of the Ascension, see JW (2002), 371-78. 175 Cf. Adls 1.24. 176 Cf. Mk 11:1; Lk 19:29 and Jn 11:18. 177 Adls 1.25. Cf. Mk 13; Mt 24-25 and Lk 21. 172 173

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Arculf ’s visit.178 Although a church building is not explicitly mentioned, the site is mentioned by both Epiphanius and the Commemoratorium, confirming the continuity of Christian presence at the Eleona during the Early Islamic period.179 The condition of the church at the time of Arculf, whether it remained in ruins or had been restored, is uncertain. The second question relates to the source of the chapter. What role, if any, did Arculf play with respect to the Eleona material? Does Adls 1.25 provide an example of Adomnán working alone without the use of Arculf? Arguments of various merit have been put forth to that effect. First of all, Arculf is not mentioned in the chapter. While O’Loughlin sees a pattern of significance in Adomnán’s use (and non-use) of Arculf, the book has already established that the bishop was the primary source of Adls 1.11, the column of the Miraculous Healing, despite never being mentioned.180 Arculf’s absence from Adls 1.25 is likewise immaterial. Second, and more significantly, the phrase, ‘another famous church’, the chapter’s only reference to the site’s appearance, is taken from Eucherius.181 If Arculf mentioned the site, Adomnán has masked it with the wording of Eucherius. Third, as discussed above, questions remain regarding the physical condition of the site at the time of Arculf. There was some structure at the site in Arculf’s day, whether it was restored or still in ruins, and given an ongoing Christian presence at the site, we can assume that Arculf, who was a constant visitor at the nearby place of the Ascension, visited the Eleona and likely mentioned it to Adomnán. If what Arculf encountered was predominantly the remnants of Persian destruction, it is not too fanciful to suggest that Adomnán inserted Eucherius’ ‘famous church’ as a replacement of Arculf’s reference to a ruined church.182 The speculation underscores a larger point that Adls does not suffer Christian destruction with respect to the Holy City; only the Temple lay in

Cf. JW (2002), 182, nt. 24 states that ‘it seems likely that Arculf himself did not mention this church [the Eleona], because it had been destroyed before his visit by the Persians in 614’. Also see Aist (2009), 190-94 and Taylor (1993), 150-51. 179 Cf. Hag. 33; Comm. 24 lists 3 monks and 1 presbyter at the site. Willibald does not mention the site. 180 Cf. TOL (2007), 118-23 with appendix A2.5. The fact that Adls 1.25 comes at the very end of Book 1 also appeals to the argument that it is an independent addition of Adomnán. 181 Ep. Faust. 10. 182 Adls’ image of the Holy City as the contemporary realization of New Jerusalem would have been somewhat diminished if the location where Jesus gave the Apocalyptic Discourse lay in ruins. 178

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ruins.183 Had Arculf described a damaged church at the site, there are reasons to believe that Adomnán may have redacted the material. Given the continued Christian presence at the site, Arculf’s input into the chapter cannot be so easily dismissed on the grounds of a ruined church. A topographical inaccuracy in the chapter actually argues in favour of Arculf. Adls describes the Eleona as ‘south of Bethany’; in fact, it was approximately a hundred meters south of the church of Ascension. The sequence of the Mt of Olives material is likewise confused. Topographically, Book 1 should end with Bethany; however, the sequence of Adls 1.23-25 reflects the erroneous location of the Eleona. The error may be explained by the report of Arculf, faulty information in a literary source or Adomnán’s misinterpretation of Arculf. It is possible but unlikely that Arculf described the Eleona as south of Bethany or mentioned the sites in the order of Adls. It is also doubtful that Adomnán possessed a literary source containing the error or that he somehow miscalculated the location based upon his study of the biblical texts. The most salient fact is that the Eleona was directly south of the church of the Ascension, and it is logical to conclude that the error was the result of Adomnán’s confusion over Arculf’s report. The similar displacement of the grotto of Gethsemane within the Jehoshaphat Valley section suggests that Adomnán may have been confused by his own notes. Yet, once again, as Adomnán composed the material, he ensured that the locational descriptions were consistent with the order of the sites, and ending Book 1 with Adls 1.25 made sense since the Eleona was ‘south of Bethany’. In the end, it seems likely that Arculf told Adomnán that the Eleona was south of the Ascension, and, consequently, there is reason to believe that Arculf was the initial agent behind Adomnán’s description of the Eleona. That Arculf sourced rest of the Jerusalem sites lends additional weight to the argument that he likewise mentioned the Eleona to Adomnán. The bulk of Adls 1.25 is Adomnán’s analysis of the Synoptic sources, which establishes the who, what and when of Jesus’ address. As O’Loughlin has demonstrated, Adls 1.25 is an ambitious piece of early medieval exegesis, emblematic of the abbot’s aptitude as a scriptural scholar, and no chapter better exemplifies the text’s interest in resolving biblical conundrums.184 The point, though, has been over-extrapolated.185 By contrast, Book 2 refers to the ruins of Hebron and Jericho; cf. Adls 2.8 and

183

2.13.

Cf. TOL (2007), 95. The study affirms the exegetical interests of Adomnán; however, much of the scripturally-related material in Adls, such as the location of Rachel’s tomb in Adls 2.7 184 185

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Commemorative topography and eschatological imagery dominate Book 1, while exegesis is a tertiary interest. As a description of a holy place, Adomnán’s exegesis of the Apocalyptic Discourse is, in effect, an elaboration of the site’s commemoration, a point made apparent by Bede’s redaction of the material.186

4.3. Maps and Resources The chapter concludes with a look at two divergent resources for reading Adls. The first is the pilgrim circuit of Jerusalem, which provides an insightful tool for identifying various features of the text. The second example comes with a caveat: moderns maps of Adls should be viewed with caution. A case study of Wilkinson’s ‘Arculf in Jerusalem’ will provide the discussion.

The Jerusalem Circuit As previously discussed, a number of pilgrim texts order their material around a common template known as the Jerusalem circuit.187 The template, which begins with the Holy Sepulchre and concludes at the place of the Ascension, almost certainly reflects the primary pilgrim route through the city. Arculf would have been extremely familiar with the pathway and the experience it provided.188 Although the Jerusalem circuit offered a recognizable norm around which Arculf, together with Adomnán, could have shaped the material, Adls does not follow the template, even though the text contains some elements common to it, including its commencement with the Holy Sepulchre and its conclusion on the Mt of Olives. Nonetheless, the circuit provides an insightful lens for identifying certain features of the text. Whereas Holy Sion immediately followed the Holy Sepulchre, the circuit exposes Adls’ unusual sequencing of the Sion church. Adls’ omission of the pool is underscored by the fact that and the reference to earth salt in Adls 2.17, is part and parcel of the pilgrim experience and the subsequent descriptions of sacred topography. Adls’ exegetical emphases were developed from Arculf ’s report and are not the creations of Adomnán working alone with his literary texts as per O’Loughlin; cf. appendix A2.5. 186 See ch. 5.5, ‘The Eleona’. 187 See ch. 2.2, ‘Sequence’ and Aist (2009), 216-28. 188 Adls’ depiction of Arculf as a daily visitor of the holy sites is interesting in light of our understanding of the Jerusalem circuit; cf. Adls 1.12.1; 1.15.3 and 1.23.5.

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it was a key station on the route. The Jerusalem circuit also informs us that Adls includes a number of secondary sites. Since the circuit ordered the holy sites according to a single, continuous pathway, choices had to be made, and certain holy places had to be left out. The primary decision concerned which direction to take around the Temple Mount. As a result, sites not located along the circuit’s primary route, such as Aceldama, the pool of Siloam and tombs of the Jehoshaphat Valley, eventually assumed a second-tier status. These sites were still visited by pilgrims but not as frequently. The inclusion of these sites in Adls reflects Arculf ’s comprehensive knowledge of the city. Once the decision was made by Adomnán to include secondary sites, particularly those to the south of the city, the circuit became obsolete as an organizational template. The circuit, which continued up the Mt of Olives from the Jehoshaphat Valley, highlights how Adls’ placement of the Mt Sion material between the Jehoshaphat Valley and Mt of Olives sections denies a similar progression. If Adls’ extramural section would have began with Mt Sion before continuing with a Jehoshaphat Valley – Mt of Olives sequence, the geographical coherence of the text would have been considerably enhanced. While the Jerusalem circuit exposes how Adls differs from other sources, it also reveals that Book 1 is not nearly as disordered as it may initially appear. The pilgrim circuit linked the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension. Beginning at the Holy Sepulchre with the sites of Jesus’ death and resurrection and ending with a breathtaking view of the holiest landscape of Christendom, the place of the Ascension, with its emphasis on the return of Christ, was a particularly apropos climax to the pilgrim circuit. The fact that the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension are the two central sites of Book 1 is no coincidence as the places of the crucifixion, resurrection and ascension were the holiest sites of post-Byzantine Jerusalem. In the end, Adls shares the same emphasis as the Jerusalem circuit, which is not surprising since the text is based upon the experiences of a seventh-century pilgrim.

‘Arculf in Jerusalem’ While the Jerusalem circuit is an effective tool for analyzing Adls, modern scholarship has introduced a number of complications into the reading of the text. Along with the Arculf-as-literary-figure argument, the association of Adls 1.11 with the North Gate column of the Madaba Map has long foiled an accurate interpretation of the material. A third

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obstacle is represented by Wilkinson’s map, ‘Arculf in Jerusalem’, that appears in Jerusalem Pilgrims before the Crusade.189 The map consists of a template of the city’s composite features – its walls, key locations and a central street grid – upon which Wilkinson has superimposed labels purportedly corresponding to the sites mentioned in Adls. The problem of the map is threefold. First of all, the template is significantly misleading. A fundamental difficulty of mapping a pilgrim text is that the template requires sufficient topographical markers to orient the reader; however, maps inevitably depict locations that a text does not describe. Moreover, Wilkinson uses the same template for Adls as he does for other pre-Crusader pilgrim texts,190 and while Adls omits the pool of Bethesda, it still appears on the map.191 The template likewise places Holy Sion inside the city walls, or, more accurately, it uses the elongated line of the southern wall. Wilkinson’s map self-corrects the distortions of Adls. Secondly, not every feature mentioned in the text appears on the map, including most of the Holy Sepulchre material. Wilkinson also omits the Eleona, presumably because he contends that Arculf did not contribute to Adls 1.25.192 Whether Wilkinson is correct or not is irrelevant. At issue is the hermeneutic that governs the map, which, in this case, is Wilkinson’s interpretation of which sites were sourced by Arculf. In order to fully comprehend the map, one must have a working knowledge of Wilkinson’s scholarly positions on the text. Third, Wilkinson’s identification of Adls’ column with the North Gate is incorrect. Maps, like all forms of research, need to be updated. Fourth, Wilkinson’s map, which simply labels the topographical features mentioned in Adls, does not indicate its corresponding movements. As the study demonstrates, the analysis of sequence is vital to the study of pilgrim texts. Fifth and finally, Wilkinson’s map is interested in the Holy City. It is a self-corrected map of Jerusalem; it is not a map that accurately reflects the text. Despite the issues that have been raised, Wilkinson’s map has a legitimate focus on the topography of seventh-century Jerusalem. However, Cf. JW (2002), 169, map 34. The template is the same one used for the Byzantine texts of Theodosius, the Breviarius and Sophronius in JW (2002), 108, 120 and 159. The template used for the Early Islamic texts is also the same, save for a retracted southern wall. See the maps of Epiphanius, Willibald, Comm. and Bernard in JW (2002), 207, 242, 252 and 264. 191 While the pool of Bethesda is not labeled, which is Wilkinson’s method for denoting that a site was part of ‘Arculf in Jerusalem’, the outline of the pool appears on the map. 192 Cf. JW (2002), 169, map 34. 189

190

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by failing to better qualify his map, the reader is led to believe that ‘Arculf in Jerusalem’ corresponds to the contents of Adls, which is not the case. Maps are subjective visual aids that can easily mislead, distort and replace one’s reading of the text.

4.4. Conclusion The discussion of Adls has revealed a remarkable consistency between the external sources and the internal witness of the text. The post-Byzantine texts have been critical in establishing the identities and locations of the holy sites of Adls, while corroborating the seventh-century milieu of its topographical material. The findings are supported by the internal markers and contextual sequence of the text. The evidence substantiates Adomnán’s depiction of Arculf as pilgrim, literary guide and dialogue partner. In concluding the chapter, our focus turns the text’s image of the Holy City, Adomnán’s use of Eucherius and Adls’ map of Jerusalem.

Adls’ Image of New Jerusalem Book 1 is the story of how a seventh-century pilgrim having returned from a nine-month stay under Muslim occupation envisioned the Holy City as New Jerusalem in which the past, present and future were equally claimed as realms of Christian revelation. The originality of Adls lies in its manipulation of real topography to create a theological representation of the city in which its image of Jerusalem is greater than the sum of its parts. One of the most unique works on pre-Crusader Jerusalem, no other pilgrim text builds such a poignant theological image based upon its collective presentation of topographical detail. With a few simple strokes – a known omission here and an odd relegation there – what emerges in Adls is a profoundly eschatological image of the Holy City, achieved through the use of real (and largely accurate) details of the seventh-century city. The construct is only intelligible once the topographical distortions, textual obscurities and scholarly misjudgements have been respectively identified. By reading Adls’ reference to the Temple as past prologue, correctly identifying Adls 1.9-11, and recognizing the extramural relegation of Holy Sion, a profoundly simple image of the Holy City emerges: Jerusalem as a walled city consisting of a single site, the Holy Sepulchre. Everything else is secondary, subordinate and literally extramural.

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By Adls’ own admission, its description of intramural Jerusalem is limited to the buildings containing ‘the holy places of the Cross and Resurrection’. Yet, the Holy Sepulchre included additional, secondary commemorations. A pilgrim with personal experience of the complex, such as Arculf, understood that the additional stations only enhanced the sanctity of the holy sites of Christ. The reader of Adls must do the same, perceiving the complimentary function between the commemorative fabric of the Holy Sepulchre and the complex’s Christological identity. The seemingly extraneous material has caused readers to dismiss or overlook Adls’ stated claim that intramural Jerusalem would only consist of the buildings of the Holy Sepulchre. Adls provides a fulsome account of the seventh-century complex, while implicitly espousing the site as the throne of the Christ. Once the equivalency have been recognized, numerous parallels between Adls and the Revelator’s vision of New Jerusalem are easily detected. New Jerusalem is the walled foursquare city of the throne of Christ, the home of God among mortals, where the Lamb of God reigns without a temple.193 The holy places of Christ are at the centre of the world, where lamps burn night and day, and no shadows are cast on the summer solstice, eliciting the vision of a city that ‘has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb … there will be no night’.194 The presence of people ‘from almost every country and many nationalities’ evokes the gathering of the nations.195 The annual rainfall which purifies the streets realizes the proscription that nothing unclean will enter (or remain in) the city.196 Adls’ Jerusalem is a city of prophetic fulfilment, eschatological realization, continuing miracles and steadfast vigil. Even when Adls is unable to fully produce the details of Revelation 21, parallels exist between the two texts. Both texts survey the city’s walls; while New Jerusalem has twelve gates, Adls counts six.197 Revelation’s emphasis on the numbers twelve and three are reflected in the columns, walls and lamps of the Anastasis and the tomb of Christ.198 While New Jerusalem is a city of precious jewels and solid gold, Adls’ city of stone is 195 196 197 198 193

194

Cf. Apoc 21:3,5 and 22:1,3; Apoc 21:22. Apoc 21:23-25. Cf. Apoc 21:24; Ez 5:5 and 38:12. Cf. Apoc 21:27. Cf. Apoc 21:12-13 with Adls 1.2-5. Cf. Apoc 21:12-14 with Adls 1.2.3-5 and 1.2.12.

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adorned with crosses of gold and silver.199 Just as the angel meticulously measures the city, Arculf measures the tomb.200 Adls describes additional qualities that are complimentary to the image of New Jerusalem. Save for the Temple, Jerusalem was a city without ruins; there is no sense of deterioration to the holy sites. The text depicts an incorruptible and immutable city. At the same time, Jerusalem was a city of ongoing theophanies; miraculous rainfalls and divine winds regularly visited the city. The city’s population was devout and faithful, frequently venerating the holy sites. An eschatological nexus exists between the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the Ascension. Sitting on opposing hills, the sites were places of perpetual vigil, expectantly waiting for the return of Christ and linked together by the divine illumination of the Ascension church. Despite its skilful simplicity, sophisticated nuances and eschatological vision, the main weakness of Adls’ image of Jerusalem is, ironically, an inadequate conveyance of the material. The point is manifest in the ambiguous descriptions of the cloth relics. While their respective locations can be established through the criterion of commemorative credibility, contextual sequence, the disclaimer of Adls 1.2.1 and the corroboration of external sources, the actual details of Adls 1.9-10 are anything but obvious. The casual reader of Adls 1.2-11 is unlikely to understand that they have never left the Holy Sepulchre. The inability of both Bede and modern scholars to recognize the continuity of Adls 1.2-11, the basis of Adls’ New Jerusalem image, is an indication that the construct has remained effectively undeveloped in the readers’ imagination.201 Similarly, although the ‘baptism of Jerusalem’ contains strong eschatological imagery, the narrative does not tease out the rich interplay between the baptizing rains and the dedication feast of the Holy Sepulchre, a remarkably poignant parallel between the earthly and heavenly liturgies. The narrative’s festival setting is regretfully muted. In short, the genius of Book 1 is obscured by a couple of ill-placed ambiguities. The material reads as if the imaginative interplay between topography and theology was understood in the development of the text; yet, a couple of critical dots were left unconnected in the final composition. If the perception of a text is the ultimate measure of its success, then Adls is simply a treatise on sacred topography with a secondary interest in miracles, which Cf. Apoc 21:18-21 with Adls 1.2.7 and 1.5.1. Cf. Apoc 21:15-17 with Adls 1.2.8-10. 201 Bede’s interpretation of Adls is discussed in ch. 5. 199

200

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represents Bede’s view of the text. If the value of a text relates to its internal imagination, Adls is one of the most exceptional Christian texts on pre-Crusader Jerusalem. The aim of the chapter has been to connect the dots.

Adomnán’s Use of Eucherius What is Adomnán’s relationship to Eucherius? How is Eucherius’ description of Jerusalem used by Adomnán? How Adomnán incorporates, elaborates and omits Eucherius is critical to our understanding of Bede’s relationship to his two principal sources and how his use of Eucherius differs from Adomnán’s approach to the fifth-century text. First of all, Adomnán’s use of Ep. Faust. is all but limited to Adls’ prologue to the Holy City. Adomnán incorporates Eucherius’ references to the city walls, the sloping terrain of Mt Sion, the site of the Temple and the catchment of the Brook Kidron.202 Second, Adls contradicts Eucherius’ explicit witness to the intramural status of Mt Sion. Third, Adomnán does not include all of the holy sites found in Eucherius, excluding the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam. Fourth, other than commencing in Jerusalem, the structure of Eucherius has no effective influence on Adls. The texts even describe the Holy Sepulchre from opposite directions. In sum, regarding both contents and structure, Ep. Faust. has a very selective and non-binding influence on Adls, disproving the assumption that Adomnán always adhered to the authority of the ancient writers. Furthermore, Adls’ image of Jerusalem is fundamentally different from the patristic text.203 Eucherius’ city is round, while Adls envisions a foursquare city. Eucherius emphasizes the citadel-like qualities of Mt Sion, around which the material is organized; Adls’ city is arranged according to the city walls. Eucherius highlights the intramural incorporation of Mt Sion; Adomnán places it outside the city. While Eucherius excludes the Holy Sepulchre from Mt Sion, Adls excludes Mt Sion from the Holy Sepulchre, relegating it beyond the city walls. Adomnán’s intramural city is limited to the Holy Sepulchre; Eucherius’ city contains multiple sites. The ruined Temple, now occupied by the Saracens, is past prologue in Adls, while Eucherius depicts the Temple with its miraculously-surviving pinnacle as one of the city’s intramural sites. Eucherius’ 202 Cf. Adls 1.1 and ch.4.2, ‘Adomnán as Exegete’. Also see Adls 1.4 and 1.6.2, where Ep. Faust. 6 appears to be the source for the terms, Anastasis and Martyrium. The abbot’s use of Eucherius in Adls 1.25 has also been discussed. 203 Cf. figs 6, 7, 8 and 9.

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intramural city includes three districts: Mt Sion, the Holy Sepulchre and the Temple–lower city; Adls’ contemporary city contains but one: the Holy Sepulchre. Despite these fundamental differences, vestiges of Eucherius still influence the text. While Adomnán does not emphasize the topographical dominance of Mt Sion, he elaborates upon Eucherius’ conflation of the intramural terrain.204 While, in Ep. Faust., Jerusalem ascended from all directions, Adomnán reverses the perspective, stating that Mt Sion, which overlooked the city from the south and extended to the western gate, sloped all the way to the city’s northern and eastern walls. Intramural Jerusalem was a valley-free, slanted plane, resulting in the city’s runoff flowing into the Kidron Valley via the city’s eastern gates. While Mt Sion was outside the walls, its extended slopes comprised the totality of intramural Jerusalem. While Adls contains a primary image, almost certainly inspired by Arculf, that relates to the city walls, it also incorporates aspects of Eucherius’ topographical construct of Mt Sion. On one hand, Adomnán modifies Eucherius by placing Mt Sion outside the walls and omitting the mountain’s circular shape in deference to his concept of New Jerusalem; on the other hand, the abbot develops the image of Mt Sion by elaborating upon the length and catchment of its slopes in his Arculfsourced vignette of the baptism of Jerusalem. Adomnán’s redactions of Mt Sion show the abbot as a composer at work, shaping his patristic source in deference to the Jerusalem material of his oral source. An Eucherian affinity can also be detected in Adls’ final summary of Jerusalem. The reference in Adls 1.20 to ‘Aelia and Mt Sion’, terms that respectively refer to the new (historical) and old (biblical) parts of the city, is consistent with the Holy Sepulchre (New Jerusalem) – Mt Sion (Old Jerusalem) divide at the heart of the text, a vision of Jerusalem arguably championed by Arculf. However, in his final recap of Book 1, Adomnán refers to ‘the holy city Jerusalem, the Mt of Olives and the valley of Jehoshaphat’.205 Reflecting an Eucherian perspective, Mt Sion has been subsumed by Jerusalem; the holy mountain and the holy city are one and the same.

204 Any doubt regarding Eucherius’ conflation of the Jerusalemite hills is explicitly removed by Adomnán, who embellishes the topographical description of the intramural city in his description of the city’s rainfall. 205 Cf. Adls 1.25.9.

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Mapping Jerusalem We end the chapter by mapping Adls’ primary image of Jerusalem.206 Since the text refers to the city’s walls and gates by cardinal directions, it presumes a quadrilateral, if not equilateral, shape, and in light of the text’s parallels with Revelation 21, there is convincing reason to conclude that Adls casts Jerusalem as a foursquare city.207 Of the eighty-four towers and six gates, there was a major gate in the east, west and north walls of the city; the three gates can be represented in the centre of their respective walls.208 As the column of the Miraculous Healing, located within the Holy Sepulchre, was ‘in the middle of the city’, we can place the complex in the centre of the square. The Temple is past prologue. It could be represented by a faded outline against the city’s eastern wall; it is more accurate to leave it out altogether.209 We can then add the three extramural areas. The Jehoshaphat Valley and Mt Sion are directly adjacent to the city, respectively to the south and to the east. Together, they comprise a contiguous band on the southern half of the city between the eastern and western gates. Although the area north of the city is not mentioned in the text, we can imagine the band encompassing the entire city. Largely consisting of concentric squares, Adls’ image of Jerusalem consists of the tomb of Christ, the Holy Sepulchre, the city walls, a band of land immediately surrounding the city, including the Jehoshaphat Valley and Mt Sion, and the Mt of Olives, introduced by the transitional break of Adls 1.20. The Mt of Olives is east of Jerusalem, separated from the Holy City by the Jehoshaphat Valley. We can plot the extramural sites with various degrees of precision, noting that the extramural sections each contain a single, dominant church – the church of Mary’s Tomb (the Jehoshaphat Valley), Holy Sion (Mt Sion) and the church of the Ascension (the Mt of Olives).210 Representing the three-dimensional imagery, including the secondary influences of Eucherius, is less straightforward. While Eucherius depicts Jerusalem as a cone-shaped mountain, in Adls, Mt Sion, despite its extramural relegation, slants from the southern end of the city all the way to the northern and eastern walls unimpeded by intervening While a diagram of a text’s mental map provides a different medium for perceiving the material, it includes its own distortions, inaccuracies and subjectivity. 207 Cf. Apoc 21:16. 208 There were was no gate in the southern wall as per Adls 1.1.5-6. 209 See figs 7 and 8. 210 See fig. 9. 206

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valleys, implying that both the Holy Sepulchre and the former Temple were located on its lower slopes. The subtle imagery is contradicted by the primary image of the text. The example highlights how the use and elaboration of multiple sources, even in limited amounts, can influence and controvert the working images within a text. While the dilemma of Mt Sion provides an interesting backdrop, the Holy Sepulchre as the singular site of intramural Jerusalem dominates Adls’ image of the Holy City.

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CHAPTER 5 BEDE’S DE LOCIS SANCTIS

Our new understandings of Adls have direct implications for the work that it directly inspired, Bede’s De locis sanctis.1 Indeed, one cannot grasp the inner workings of Bdls without first recognizing the dynamics that govern Adls. How faithfully does Bede follow the contents and structure of Adls? Is Bede’s description of intramural Jerusalem likewise limited to the Holy Sepulchre, or does he deconstruct Adls’ image of the Holy City? Does Bede improve upon Adls, or is Bdls a less satisfying rendition of Adomnán’s work? What, moreover, is Bede’s relationship to Eucherius?

5.1. Bdls as Epitome Modern scholars have commonly regarded Bdls as an epitome of Adls.2 A tradition of medieval scholarship, epitomes shortened and simplified important Christian writings, enabling a wider circulation and greater accessibility to the original texts.3 According to O’Loughlin, in producing Bdls, Bede carried out the basic duty of a student, which was to promote the work of his teacher; Bdls was an homage to Adomnán.4 O’Loughlin’s position counters the assumption that Bede would not An English translation of Bdls appears in JW (2002), 216-30. On scholarly views regarding Bdls, see TOL (2007), 191-97. 3 Cf. TOL (2007), 193: ‘the production of abbreviations, abridgments, florilegia and reworkings of earlier texts is one of the most characteristic features of theological writing in the early middle ages’. 4 On the idea that a discipulus–magister relationship characterizes Bede’s approach to Adls, see TOL (2007), 193-97. 1 2

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have reworked Adls unless he had considered it deficient in some way.5 Even so, the questions remains. Did Bede think that he was improving upon his teacher’s work, and if so, in what respect? Was Bdls intended to replace Adls? The chapter considers these questions by examining the ways in which Bede diverges from Adls. As the chapter demonstrates, the texts differ with respect to contents, structure and theological imagery. Bede applies certain correctives to Adls. He adds details and rearranges the material. In contrast to Adomnán, Bede favours a comprehensive approach to the holy sites, seeking a more accurate depiction of Christian Jerusalem. The result of Bede’s revisions is a dismantling of Adls’ image of Jerusalem as a walled city consisting solely of the Holy Sepulchre, negating much of the eschatological resonance permeating Adomnán’s account. Consequently, Bdls lacks much of the theological acumen that characterizes Adls. Throughout the discussion, our focus will consistently shift to Bede’s use of Eucherius. In the end, the chapter will reassess whether Bdls is actually an epitome of Adls written in homage of Adomnán or if it is better understood as an original composition heavily reliant upon his two principal sources.

5.2. The Purpose of Bdls According to Bede, the purpose of Bdls was to describe ‘the sites of those places’ in Scripture that are ‘specially worth remembering’.6 Even more so than Adls, Bede is focused upon the details of commemorative topography, and his interest in sacred topography is consistently expressed by 5 On the arguments that Bede improved Adls, see the summary in TOL (2007), 191-92. The arguments hold that Adomnán produced ‘a piece of dictation, a travellogue of curious details and amazing stories, which the more scholarly Bede edited to produce a little useful manual’. Adomnán’s work has but ‘one merit: he made himself useful by collecting … first-hand experience in writing. Bede then takes from this what is really of value and makes it usefully accessible’. 6 Bdls preface. By contrast, in the preface of Adls, Adomnán refers to Arculf ’s ‘experience of various faraway places’, summarizing the ensuing contents, if somewhat inaccurately, as ‘all the experiences [that Arculf] carefully rehearsed to me’. Also see Adls 3.6.4, which states that Arculf ‘so generously told us all his experiences’. In focusing more directly upon sacred topography, Bede eschews the use of a pilgrim guide by completely omitting Arculf from the body of the text. Bede’s occasional references to the pilgrim experience are placed in the third person or indirect speech – e.g., people coming into the city, a standing man can touch the ceiling of Christ’s tomb, it is usual to touch and kiss the Lord’s chalice.

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what he retains and by what he omits. Pilgrim writers seldom presumed that they were describing the holy places in biblical time, and Bede’s recognition of the post-biblical conditions of the holy sites is expressed in numerous ways from references to historical events to descriptions of church architecture. The point is also contained in the clumsy phrase, ‘the sites of those places’, which distinguishes between the original biblical places and their subsequent evolution into sacred sites. While Bede consults ancient writers, he sets his account in the recent past, noting, for instance, that Mu’awiya had been ‘alive in our day’.7 In sum, the purpose of Bdls was the description of the contemporary, commemorative landscapes of Jerusalem and the Holy Land.

5.3. Scholarship on Bdls Bdls has received relatively little attention from modern scholars. The first reason is Bdls’ perception as an epitome of Adls. Secondly, the text is not an independent source on Holy Land topography and has limited value for Jerusalem studies. Bdls provides, at best, an interesting case study of how an early medieval scholar without firsthand knowledge of Jerusalem interpreted the topographical evidence of Adls and his other sources. Third, scholarship has lacked a suitable framework with which to interrogate Bdls. Our new understandings of Adls, together with the study’s topographical approach, permit many of the inner workings of Bdls to be perceived for the first time. The approach is facilitated by the idiosyncratic nature of Adls, namely, its manipulated image of intramural Jerusalem, which allows us to discern significant differences between the two texts. Regarding the assumption that Bdls would not have been written unless there was something deficient in Adls, one of the more common criticism has been Adomnán’s ‘sinewy’ Latin style (lacinioso sermone).8 Some scholars have consequently interpreted Bede’s revisions in terms of its improved Latinity. The argument is representative of the scholarship that has been done on the texts. Literary studies have dominated the discourse, while proper topographical analyses of the texts are virtually Bdls 4.2. Cf.  Bdls 19.4. On the scholarly discourse concerning Adomnán’s Latin, including Bede’s statement that he wrote breuirobius strictisque sermonibus, see TOL (2007), 191-93. 7 8

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non-existent.9 As the chapter will demonstrate, Bede’s project was fundamentally driven by his detailed attention to topographical material. While literary studies scratch the surface, understanding Bdls requires a thorough topographical approach.

5.4. Bede and His Sources: Adomnán and Eucherius Bede refers twice to his twofold use of ancient and contemporary texts.10 Without naming specific sources, Bede states in his preface that he has followed ‘the writings of the ancients’ as well as the texts of ‘more recent masters’. Except for a brief reference to Arculf in Bdls 7.3, Bede does not introduce the ‘recent masters’ until the concluding chapter, stating that he has used the ‘reliable accounts [and] … sayings of the Gaulish bishop Arculf, which Adomnán the priest, an expert on the scriptures, has gathered into three books in admirable style’.11 An additional remark reiterates the twofold nature of his source material: ‘from [Adomnán’s beautiful narrative] we have taken some things [and] compared it with the writings of the ancients’.12 While Adls is the only source that Bede explicitly mentions, in each case, Bede demonstrates a degree of deference to ‘the writings of the ancients’. In the first instance, the reference precedes the recent masters. In the second, the ancient writings are the measure to which Adls has been compared. As we shall see, the ‘writings of the ancients’ are given preferential treatment in the body of Bdls as Bede shapes the Adomnán material around the authoritative witness of Eucherius’ ancient text.13

Bede’s Use of Adls It is worth previewing Bede’s use of his two principal sources. Bdls is dependent upon Adls for the vast quantity of its Jerusalem contents, including the diagrams of the Holy Sepulchre, Holy Sion and the church Wilkinson makes cursory analyses of the topographical material. The charts in TOL (2007), 196 and 216-20, while arranged topographically, focus predominantly on language. 10 On Bede’s source material, see JW (2002), 21 and 216-30. 11 Bdls 19.4. Bdls 7.3 cites Arculf as a source on a specific point but not as the pilgrim subject of Adomnán’s work. 12 Bdls 19.5. 13 Bede demonstrates a stronger adherence to patristic authority than Adomnán. 9

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of the Ascension. Secondly, every commemorative site and religious object found in Adls Book 1 is mentioned by Bede except for the grotto of Gethsemane. Third, Bede emends certain errors and omissions contained in Adls. Bede places Holy Sion inside the city walls, while adding the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam. Certain distortions, including the depiction of Mt Sion as a conflation of the Jerusalemite hills, are retained. Fourth, Bede diverges significantly from the sequence of Adls. Bede’s statement that he has ‘taken some things’ from Adomnán’s ‘very beautiful narrative’ accurately reflects his cut-and-paste approach to Adls; the material has been greatly rearranged.14 Finally, Bede effectively dismantles Adls’ primary image of the Holy City as New Jerusalem and, with it, much of the eschatological imagery that permeates the abbot’s account.15

Bede’s Use of Eucherius While Bede’s use of Eucherius has long been recognized, the texts’ topographical connections have not been properly analyzed.16 First of all, Bede incorporates all of the Jerusalem sites found in Eucherius. By including the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, Bede demonstrates his interest in a comprehensive approach to the material. Second, Bede uses Eucherius as a corrective to Adls. Bede places Mt Sion inside the city walls and inserts material that is missing in Adls. Third, Bede consistently favours the order of Eucherius over Adls. When both texts discuss the same subject, Eucherius provides Bede with the working framework into which the redacted contents of Adls have been duly inserted. Moreover, Bdls’ descriptions of the holy sites generally make use of Eucherius before turning to the Adomnán material.17 Fifth, Bede’s adherence to Eucherius’ template of the Holy City effectively dismantles the New Jerusalem imagery of Adls. Following Eucherius, Bede’s Jerusalem is round; Mt Sion, rather than the city walls, orients the material, and Bede retains Eucherius’ Holy Sepulchre–Temple–pool of Bethes-

14 Bdls 19.5. Cf. MacPherson (1895), xvii, which states that Bede ‘has not in any way felt bound to follow the order of the former work, but has at times shown considerable ingenuity in passing from page to page’. 15 Cf. figs 9 and 10. 16 Cf. TOL (2007), 191, 214-22. Also see the annotations of Bdls in JW (2002), 216-30, which note Bede’s use of Eucherius. 17 See table 6.

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da–spring of Siloam sequence filling the city with intramural sites.18 Ep. Faust., not Adls, is the authoritative text behind Bede’s composition, and the extent of Bede’s affinity with Eucherius must be understood in order to appreciate the degree to which Bdls diverges from Adls.

5.5. The Jerusalem Material of Bede’s De locis sanctis We now turn to a chapter-by-chapter analysis of Bede’s description of Jerusalem and its relationship to his two principal sources. How authoritatively did Bede view Adomnán’s text, especially when presented with the Eucherian options? Covering Adomnán’s Jerusalem material in six chapters, Bdls 1 introduces Mt Sion, refers to the city’s historical expansions and explains the intramural location of the Holy Sepulchre. While Adls’ prologue asserts the divine character of Jerusalem, the introductory chapter of Bdls establishes Bede’s interest in the city’s historical topography. Bdls 2 describes the intramural sites of the city. Bede’s third chapter, which takes the reader out the city’s western gate, is a reworking of Adls’ extramural circuit of Mt Sion. Bdls 4 covers the cloth relics of Adls 1.9-10. Bdls 5 discusses the sites of the Jehoshaphat Valley, while Bdls 6 ends the Jerusalem material with the Mt of Olives. Bdls’ outline follows a logical progression through the city from the Holy Sepulchre to the Mt of Olives.19 The main discrepancy appears to be Bdls 4’s discussion of the cloth relics. As material dislodged from Adomnán’s description of intramural Jerusalem, its placement within the text, which follows Bdls’ first extramural chapter, seems to disrupt an otherwise well-organized presentation of the city. As we will see, though, Bdls 4, together with the transitional material of Bdls 5.1, forces a rethink of how Bede’s Jerusalem and its component parts are conceptually defined. What is the organizational principle behind Bede’s arrangement of the material? With respect to these questions, Bede faithfully follows the work of Eucherius.

Bdls 1: The Area of Jerusalem Adls 1.1 commences with Arculf outside the city walls, counting its towers and enumerating its gates. The annual street-cleansing rainfall estab See tables 2-10 and figs 5-10. Bdls traces a coherent and continuous route through the city, an exceptional feat for a remotely-written text integrating multiple sources. See fig. 11. 18 19

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lishes Jerusalem’s special status as the setting of Christ’s holy places, and the tripartite chapter ends with an implicit juxtaposition between the ruined Temple and the contemporary splendour of the Holy Sepulchre. Bdls similarly opens with an overview of the city. However, Bede treats the material in very different ways. He retains the description of the city walls, deletes the vignette of the miraculous rainfall except for the topographical details embedded in the narrative and shifts the Temple reference to his chapter on intramural Jerusalem. Bdls’ opening chapter begins the dismantling of Adls’ image of New Jerusalem. Bdls commences with the use of Eucherius, establishing important historical and topographical points, before turning to Adls. Eschewing Adls’ provocative image of Arculf standing before the walls of Jerusalem, Bede begins with Eucherius’ bird’s eye view of the city: ‘the site of the city Jerusalem appears shaped into almost a circle and enclosed by a lengthy wall’.20 Bede then introduces Eucherius’ focal point, Mt Sion: Jerusalem ‘now includes Mt Sion, which was once its neighbour’.21 The opening comments reveal four points characteristic of Bdls. First of all, Bede’s initial line, which retains Eucherius’ reference to Jerusalem’s circular shape, subverts Adls’ implicit image of a foursquare city. Second, by establishing the intramural status of Mt Sion, Bede emends the central distortion of Adls. Third, Bede assumes Eucherius’ orientative focus on Mt Sion. Fourth, Bede acknowledges a historical expansion of Jerusalem. While Jerusalem and Mt Sion were once separate entities, at some point, they were united into a single city. Having confirmed Mt Sion’s intramural status, Bede establishes its topographical dominance, which, following Eucherius, overlooked Jerusalem like a citadel from the southern part of the city.22 Bede then addresses the intramural dilemma of the Holy Sepulchre, which he does with Eucherius’ opening line on the city: ‘the name Aelia was given to Jerusalem by Aelius Hadrian, for after its destruction by Titus, the city received the name of Aelius its founder’.23 While Eucherius explains the city’s contemporary name, Bede’s interest in Hadrian concerns the city’s incorporation of the holy sites. Although the area was first enclosed by Agrippa I (ruled 41-44) not long after Jesus’ crucifixion, Bede presumes Cf.  Bdls 1.1 with Ep. Faust. 3. Cf.  Bdls 1.1 with Ep. Faust. 3. 22 At this point, Eucherius describes the church of Holy Sion situated on its summit, which Bede moves to Bdls 2, his chapter on the intramural sites of the city. 23 Cf.  Ep. Faust. 2 with Bdls 1.1. 20 21

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that Hadrian, who refounded the city in the 130s, was the responsible agent. Turning to the point at hand, Bdls concludes: ‘this is the reason why, although the Lord suffered and was buried outside the city, now the places of his passion and resurrection are to be seen inside its walls’.24 Why does Bede address the question of the holy places in his opening paragraph instead of incorporating it into his later account of the Holy Sepulchre? In short, the statement continues Bede’s theme on the historical development of the city. Referring to the fifth-century reincorporation of Mt Sion, Eucherius’ sequence is chronologically correct. In other words, Hadrian refounded the city (Ep. Faust. 2) prior to the restoration of the walls (Ep. Faust. 3). Aware of Mt Sion’s intramural status during the biblical period, Bede assumes the material was out of order, reversing the sequence to reflect his understanding of the city’s history: Mt Sion was part of Jerusalem (Ep. Faust. 3) prior to Hadrian’s alleged incorporation of the holy sites (Ep. Faust. 2). Bdls’ attention to the historical development of Jerusalem exposes a distinction between Bede and his sources regarding the city’s expansions: Adls has none, Eucherius includes one, and Bede describes two. Except for the prophesied destruction of the Temple, Adls’ Jerusalem is an immutable, divinely-designed city. The holy sites of Christ reside comfortably in the middle of the city without need for explanation; the city’s historical development is of little interest to Adls. Eucherius describes a single enlargement of the city, the incorporation of Mt Sion. By contrast, Bede describes a twofold expansion. In sum, the historical topography of Jerusalem is the overriding theme of Bdls 1.1. Utilizing the contents of Eucherius, Bede describes the city’s circular shape, establishes Mt Sion as the city’s formidable intramural mountain and provides an historical explanation for the intramural location of the holy sites. For chronological considerations, Bede flips the order of Eucherius. Before Bede incorporates a single detail from Adls, he has diverged from Adomnán in three significant ways: Jerusalem is circular, Mt Sion is inside the city and the dilemma of the holy sites are historically explained. Bede turns to Adomnán for the first time in Bdls 1.2, incorporating, almost en bloc, Adls 1.1.1-6, which surveys the city walls.25 Bede’s most Bdls 1.1. Although the core details presumably come from Arculf, Adls 1.1.2-6 expounds the theme of gates that appears in Ep. Faust. 5. While Bdls 1.2, which follows Adls 1.1.2-6, does not make independent use of Eucherius, it adheres, nonetheless, to the framework of Eucherius, and, to this point, Bdls 1.1-2 corresponds with Ep. Faust. 24 25

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significant redaction of the material concerns the southern wall. According to Adls, the wall stretched along the northern edge of Mt Sion from David’s Gate to the eastern side of Mt Sion. Consequently, the summit of Mt Sion, which was south of the mountain’s northern edge, was outside the city. To remain consistent, Bede, who has already established Mt Sion’s intramural status, must revise the line of Adls’ southern wall. Bede does so by altering the relevant phrase: per aquilonale montis Sion supercilium. Whereas Adomnán refers to ‘the stretch (of the wall) along the northern side of Mt Sion’, Bede separates the preposition per from the phrase and does not use aquilonale montis Sion supercilium as a descriptor of the wall itself. While Bede states that ‘the north side of Mt Sion rises above the city’, he refrains from stating that the wall crossed the northern side of Mt Sion, which would have placed the summit of the mountain outside the city. Instead, the wall is described as running ‘from the gate of David which we have already mentioned to the side of this same Mt Sion, which goes down with a steep rocky surface to the east’.26 Bede’s description inevitably contains some ambiguity; yet, the redaction effectively establishes his intent. Given Bede’s previous assertion that Mt Sion was inside the walls, Bdls 1.2 contains a subtle but significant revision of Adls 1.1.1-6 that keeps the line of the southern wall consistent with rest of the text.27 Bdls’ introductory chapter ends with a significant abridgement of Adls 1.1.7-13, the vignette of the baptism of Jerusalem. While omitting the narrative, Bdls 1.3 retains the topographical details embedded in the story.28 From Mt Sion, at the southern end of the city, the area gradually descended ‘to the lower ground of the northern and eastern walls’. As 2-5 with the exception of Ep. Faust. 4, the description of Holy Sion, which Bede relegates to Bdls 2. When Bede is using material from Adls that has incorporated aspects of Eucherius, we should not overlook the point that Bede is still following the structure of Eucherius; cf. table 6. 26 Bdls 1.2. As previously mentioned, the southern wall of Adls runs south from the gate of David before turning east and crossing Mt Sion (the Western Hill) north of its summit. The wall continues to the eastern side of the Eastern Hill. 27 Bede’s consistency is further expressed by including Holy Sion in his chapter on the intramural sites of Jerusalem; cf. Bdls 2.5-6. 28 The topographical details contained in Adls 1.1.7-13 originally appear in Eucherius – the superior height of Mt Sion (Ep. Faust. 3), the lower area of the intramural city (Ep. Faust. 3) and the catchment of the Jehoshaphat Valley–the Brook Kidron (Ep. Faust. 9; cf. Bdls 5.2). Bede repeats Adls’ topographical assumption that incorrectly presumes that rainfall on Mt Sion flows through the city’s eastern gates and into the Jehoshaphat Valley. As none of the texts account for the Tyropoeon Valley, they depict the landscape of intramural Jerusalem descending from the summit of Mt Sion

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a result, rainfall flowed through the city’s eastern gates. References to rainfall and the cleansing of the city streets are the only elements preserved from the story. Although the details evoke their own questions – e.g., what is the cause of the filth, and is Jerusalem dirtier than other cities? – Bdls merely indicates that the cleanliness of Jerusalem was maintained through a fortuitous combination of meteorological conditions and physical topography. By omitting the narrative, Bdls 1.3 departs from Adls in three ways. First of all, the vignette contains references to the demographic character of the city that Bede leaves out, including the image of Jerusalem as a gathering place for people from almost every country, a point imbued with eschatological resonance.29 Secondly, while Bede affirms the physical advantages of Jerusalem’s urban landscape, Bdls 1.3 contains no hint of the miraculous. In Adls, the September rainfall is an annual marvel that takes place upon a divinely-designed landscape. Bdls 1.3 simply notes the topography. Thirdly, Adls’ story testifies to the city’s special status as the custodian of the holy sites. Bede removes the explicit purpose of the narrative: Jerusalem as the city of Christ. Bdls 1.3 is representative of Bede’s overall approach to Adomnán’s work – Bede eschews anecdotal material, deletes miraculous content and dampens theological exposition. Yet, the most telling point about Bdls 1.3 is precisely what it retains: the details of sacred topography.30 To summarize the discussion of Bdls 1, Adls begins with a tripartite chapter that surveys the city walls, establishes the divine guardianship of the holy sites and ends with a reference to the former Temple. The prologue of Adls lays out the basic outline of its image of Jerusalem: a templeless foursquare city that enjoys a special status in Christ. While the majority of the material in Bdls 1 comes from Adls, Bede’s opening chapter is different in both tone and content. The miraculous is removed, the anecdotal is deleted and extraneous theological commentary is excised. Whereas Adomnán’s prologue establishes an eschatological interest in how place informs theology, Bede’s initial chapter reveals a straightforward approach to sacred topography. Characteristic of its function as prologue, Bdls 1 does not describe any individual holy sites. in all directions (Eucherius) and specifically to the northern and eastern walls of the city (Adls and Bdls). 29 On the gathering of the nations, cf. Adls 1.1.8 with Apoc 15:4 and 21:24; Ez 5:5 and 38:12. 30 Cf. TOL (2007), 197, which claims that ‘the most significant thing about Bede is not what he includes but rather what he leaves out’.

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In order to achieve this, Bede rearranges material from both of his principal sources, moving Adls’ reference to the former Temple and Eucherius’ description of Holy Sion to his chapter on the intramural sites of Jerusalem.

Bdls 2: Intramural Jerusalem Bdls’ description of intramural Jerusalem begins with the Holy Sepulchre, continuing with the former Temple, the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam. The church of Holy Sion is the penultimate subject of the chapter, which concludes with the column of the Miraculous Healing. Entering Jerusalem Adls contains an implied movement from the city’s West Gate to the western end of the Holy Sepulchre. From there, Adomnán details a west-to-east walkthrough of the complex. By contrast, Ep. Faust. explicitly enters the city from the north, arriving at the eastern end of the Holy Sepulchre from where it commences an east-to-west description of the holy sites. Forced to make a choice between the two sources, Bede sides with Eucherius: ‘People therefore coming into the city from the north are taken to their first holy place by the layout of the streets, and go into Constantine’s church which is called Martyrium’.31 In accordance with Eucherius, Bdls enters the city through the North Gate and moves southwards along the city’s cardo before reaching the eastern entrance of the basilica of Constantine. Bede begins his description of the Holy Sepulchre at the opposite end of the complex from Adls. The Complex of the Holy Sepulchre Eucherius’ description of the Holy Sepulchre is relatively sparse, presenting Bede with a simple outline of the complex. While mentioning the three principal sites of the Holy Sepulchre – the Martyrium, Golgotha and the Anastasis – Eucherius omits the commemorative focus of the Martyrium, fails to mention the tomb of Christ and does not refer to any additional commemorations within the complex. Even so, Bede follows Eucherius’ entrance into the city and incorporates his east-towest survey of the Holy Sepulchre. Whereas Adls takes an inside-out approach, starting with the tomb of Christ and moving in an easterly Cf.  Bdls 2.1 with Ep. Faust. 6.

31

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direction towards the front entrance of the complex, Bdls begins with the basilica of Constantine and moves west. To do so, Bede reorganizes Adomnán’s material, pasting Adls’ contents into Eucherius’ basic framework. After exhausting the Eucherius material, Bede integrates the remaining contents of Adls. Bede’s redactions are rather remarkable. In accordance with Eucherius, Bede describes the principal sites of the Holy Sepulchre ‘on the way in’, while, per Adomnán, he mentions the secondary, ‘left-over’ sites ‘on the way out’. Since Bede’s contents are almost exclusively those of Adomnán, he could have simply replicated Adls’ sequence. Instead, Bede makes a complex rearrangement of the material, demonstrating his attention to topographical detail and his fundamental allegiance to Eucherius.32 The Martyrium Bede’s brief description of the Martyrium focuses upon the magnificence of its Constantinian construction and its association with Helena’s finding of the Holy Cross. Whereas the legend is not mentioned by Eucherius, Adomnán includes the commemoration without reference to Helena. Bede shores up the missing detail by giving credit to Helena, the mother of Constantine.33 Golgotha Bede then describes the church of Golgotha, which was beside and ‘to the west’ of the Martyrium. Initially utilizing Eucherius, Bdls states that the church contained ‘the rock which bore the Cross to which the Lord’s body was fixed’.34 The additional details come from Adomnán: the church had a great silver cross and a hanging bronze wheel full of lamps.35 Bede faithfully replicates Adls’ description of the crypt below Golgotha where liturgies for the ‘honoured dead’ were offered in their bodily presence.36

See tables 7 and 8; fig. 5. Cf.  Bdls 2.1 with Adls 1.6.1 and Ep. Faust. 6. Bede knew of Helena’s role in the legend from numerous sources, including Sulpicius Severus, Chronicon, 2.33.2. 34 Cf.  Bdls 2.1 with Ep. Faust. 6. 35 Bede’s attention to lamps is muted in comparison to Adls, which uses them as symbolic indicators of the city’s holiest sites. Cf. Bdls 2.1 with Adls 1.5.1 and 1.6.3. 36 Cf.  Adls 1.5.2. Following Adls 2.9, Bdls 8 places Adam’s tomb with the tombs of the Patriarchs in Hebron. See above in ch. 4.2, ‘Golgotha’. 32 33

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The Anastasis Bede introduces the Anastasis, the place of the Resurrection, as west of Golgotha. Although Eucherius offers no information on the appearance of the site, Adls contained a detailed description of its architecture.37 Trimming the wording of Adls, Bede describes the church’s circular shape, its twelve columns, three walls, three altars and its double set of four doors. While Adls indicates that the doors were on the northeast and southeast sides of the Anastasis, Bede states that they were to the west and the east, a slight revision that is reflected in Bdls’ diagram of the church.38 The Tomb of Christ and the Stone before the Tomb In the centre of the Anastasis and having its entry to the east was the rock-cut tomb of Christ. Bede replicates the essential details of the abbot’s account.39 The tomb’s exterior was covered in marble and surmounted by a golden cross. While Bede omits Adomnán’s explanation of monumentum and sepulchrum, he follows the abbot’s usage of the terms: monumentum refers to the overall aedicule, while sepulchrum denotes the tomb’s interior bench. The bench was located on the northern side of the tomb and was three palms high and seven feet long. Inside the tomb, which was a mixture of red and white rock, a standing man could touch the ceiling.40 Bdls mentions the twelve lamps that burn night and day inside the tomb, but their apostolic symbolism has been omitted. Since Bede does not emphasize the brightness of the lamps nor indicate that the tomb’s interior was undecorated, Adls’ image of resurrection light shining in an empty tomb is undeveloped. Bede’s description of the stone that sealed the tomb, which was split into two pieces and served as altars in front of the aedicule, retains the details of Adls. Reversing Directions: The Minor Sites of the Holy Sepulchre Bede has now followed Eucherius’ east-west approach to the tomb at the western end of the Holy Sepulchre. While the tomb of Christ was Adls’ starting point, for Bede, it was a place of holy arrival. However, Bede is Cf.  Bdls 2.1 with Adls 1.2.3-5 and Ep. Faust. 6. Cf. Wilkinson (2002), 171, nt. 10. 39 Cf.  Bdls 2.1-2 with Adls 1.2.6-1.3.2. 40 Cf.  Adls 1.2.6, which measures a foot and a half between the ceiling and the height of an average man. 37

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not finished with the Holy Sepulchre. He continues with a reference to ‘the rectangular church of the blessed Mother of God’, which, according to Bdls, was ‘to the right side of [the Anastasis]’.41 While the site was skipped on the way to the tomb, Bdls curiously describes the church with the same directional reference found in Adls. Given Bede’s western orientation, ‘right of the Anastasis’ would be to the north; yet, the church of Mary was to the south of the Anastasis as depicted in the manuscript drawings.42 Was this a careless mistake on the part of Bede, or is something else going on in the text? To this point, Bede has meticulously composed – and rearranged – the Holy Sepulchre material, introducing both Golgotha and the Anastasis with an explicit reference to the west.43 Bede also replicates Adls’ diagram of the Holy Sepulchre, which places the Marian church on the south side of the complex. In other words, Bede knew exactly where the church was located, and far from being a careless error, Bede’s reference to the church of Mary reveals a shift in Bdls’ orientation. Having reached the tomb of Christ at the far end of the complex, Bdls is heading back towards the front entrance! The text is no longer facing west; it is oriented to the east, and Bede now attends to the secondary sites in Adls that he passed over on his way to the tomb. The shift in direction becomes increasingly evident as Bede continues his account. After the church of Mary, now on his right, he describes the Lord’s chalice and the altar of Abraham before returning to where he started – at the ‘entry of the Martyrium’ where the soldier’s spear was located. Bede has scrupulously merged the descriptions of Adls and Eucherius, producing his own account of the Holy Sepulchre, which commences on the steps of the basilica of Constantine, takes the reader to the tomb of Christ at the far western end of the complex and returns to where his survey of the complex first began.44 Following Eucherius’ template, Bede describes the principal sites on the way in, while the secondary sites of Adls are discussed on the way out. Although Bede’s account of the Holy Sepulchre relies almost exclusively upon the contents of Adls, Bede significantly rearranges the material in deference to Eucherius. Cf.  Bdls 2.2 with Adls 1.4. Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. 43 Prior to the church of Mary, Bdls 2.1-2 reorders Adls as follows: 1.6; 1.5; 1.2 and 41

42

1.3.

44 While Bede cleverly arranges the material, he fails to provide a clear indication that the orientation of the text has changed. The reader must use his diagram of the Holy Sepulchre to interpret the material.

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Bdls’ Diagram of the Holy Sepulchre While Bede replicates Adls’ diagram of the Holy Sepulchre, they are positioned differently within the texts.45 In Adls, the diagram appears before its account of the complex, prior to its description of the Anastasis.46 Bede introduces the diagram after the altar of Abraham and before the soldier’s lance, placing it at the exact point where the text has finished describing features referenced on it, a tacit recognition that the lance, which was located in the eastern portico of the Martyrium, was not represented on the diagram.47 Bede was aware that Adomnán’s plan of the Holy Sepulchre did not correspond to Adls’ full description of the complex.48 The diagram also answers a minor point regarding Bdls. Why does Bede reverse the order of the altar of Abraham (Adls 1.6) and the Lord’s chalice (Adls 1.7)? They were both located between Golgotha and the Martyrium; however, based upon Adomnán’s diagram, from the church of Mary one would pass the chapel of the chalice before coming to the altar of Abraham, disputing the sequence of the text. Bede’s reordering of Adls 1.6-7 reflects a careful examination of Adls’ diagram of the Holy Sepulchre, providing an eighth-century example of how readers give authority to visual maps over the letter and sequence of a written text.49 The Holy Sepulchre: Summary In terms of content alone, Bdls faithfully captures Adomnán’s account of the Holy Sepulchre from Adls 1.2.2-8. With respect to sequence, however, Bede significantly departs from Adls, showing, instead, a marked preference for Eucherius. Bdls’ account of the Holy Sepulchre not only demonstrates the complexity with which Bede integrates his sources, it reveals the degree of Bede’s attentiveness to spatial orientation, skilfully expressed in his integration of the opposing movements of Ep. Faust. and Adls.

Cf. JW (2002), 379-86. See tables 7 and 8. Cf.  Adls 1.2.2. The plans are also discussed in Adls 1.2.14-15. 47 Bdls 2.2; see fig. 5. 48 It is less clear how this may have influenced Bede’s understandings of the locations of Adls’ cloth relics and the column of the Miraculous Healing, stations likewise within the precincts of the Holy Sepulchre that were similarly omitted from the diagram. 49 See ch. 4.3, ‘Arculf in Jerusalem’. 45

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The Temple Bede’s account continues with a short sequence of sites contained in Eucherius, commencing with the former Temple. While Adomnán’s description of the Temple occurs in the prologue, Bede follows the original sequence of Eucherius, placing the Temple after the Holy Sepulchre. Bede includes Eucherius’ comments that the previously-described holy places, i.e., the Holy Sepulchre, were outside Mt Sion and that the Temple site was in the lower part of the city near the eastern walls. Since Bdls 1.3 describes Mt Sion as descending to the eastern walls of the city, a topographical distortion that ignores the Tyropoeon Valley, Bede implies that the Temple was on the lower slope of Mt Sion. However, his statement that the Temple had been joined to the city by means of a road bridge – a detail contained in neither Eucherius nor Adomnan – establishes a physical separation between the Temple and rest of Jerusalem that implicitly recognizes the valley.50 Bede does not refer to the Temple’s original magnificence, which appears in both of his sources. Whereas Eucherius refers to the miraculous survival of the Temple’s pinnacle, Bede, who omits the statement, is more in line with Adls’ depiction of a temple in complete ruins. Bede finishes with details from Arculf ’s report: the Saracens had built a large house of prayer upon the site. As in Adls, the Saracen presence gave contemporary witness to scriptural prophecy and the permanence of the Temple’s destruction. While their descriptions of the Temple are essentially the same, the primary distinction between Adomnán and Bede is how textual context is used to convey theological significance. Whereas Adls treats the Temple as past prologue, Bede’s ruined Temple remained a feature of the contemporary city.51 The Pool of Bethesda and the Spring of Siloam Proceeding the Temple, Bede describes the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, information taken from Ep. Faust. 8-9 that is absent in

The contradiction is addressed below. Adomnán’s placement of the Temple as prologue is a more emphatic expression of replacement theology than what is found in either Eucherius or Bede. While Bede’s omits the reference to the former magnificence of the Temple, his treatment of the Temple is less negative than Adomnán’s. Comments, such as O’Brien (2015), 181, which speaks of Bede deliberately toning down Adomnán’s admiration of the Temple, fail to recognize Adomnán’s treatment of the Temple as past prologue. 50 51

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Adls.52 Whereas Eucherius introduces the pool of Bethesda as ‘near the Temple’, Bede states that it was ‘in the neighbourhood of the Temple’. Following Eucherius, the pool was ‘distinguished by its twin pools’ – one was filled with winter rains while the other was filled ‘with dirty red water’.53 The site’s commemoration – Jesus’ healing of the paralytic – is identified by its Bethesda place name, which, following Eucherius, is Bede’s only reference to the Jn 5 narrative.54 The second site, the spring of Siloam, which features in the Johannine account of Jesus’ healing of a blind man, is likewise described by Eucherius, ignored by Adomnán and included by Bede.55 Following Eucherius, Bede places the spring of Siloam inside the city walls at the bottom of the steep eastern slope of Mt Sion. As discussed, the spring was actually at the foot of the Eastern Hill directly opposite the Western Hill. Referring to its fluctuating supply of water, Bede adds Jerome’s commentary of Isaiah: the water does not flow gently but rushes out at certain times often with a loud noise.56 The water sources expose the distinctive approaches of Adomnán and Bede. Adls eschews them in deference to its singular focus on the Holy Sepulchre. Bede, who is interested in a fuller presentation of the holy places, includes the material, departing from Adomnán’s restrictive depiction of Jerusalem. While Adomnán deviates from the patristic authority of Eucherius, Bede adheres to the ‘writings of the ancients’. By incorporating Eucherius’ references to the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, Bede fills in the urban space that Adomnán had deliberately left blank. The Church of Holy Sion Bdls introduces Holy Sion by referring to the numerous monastic cells on the flat summit of Mt Sion surrounding the church.57 The information, sourced from Eucherius, explains a question concerning Bede’s Cf.  Bdls 2.4. Cf.  It. Burg. 589; Lib. Loc. 59.22-25 and Itin. 27. 54 Mary’s nativity, which was also commemorated at the site, is not mention in any of the three texts. 55 Cf. Jn 9. 56 Cf. Jerome, Commentariorum in Esaiam 8.5. Also see It. Burg. 592, which states that the spring does not flow on the Sabbath. 57 Bede’s placement of Holy Sion in his chapter on the intramural sites of the city, which differs from both Eucherius and Adomnán, is consistent with his previous depiction of Mt Sion. Cf. Bdls 2.5-6 with Ep. Faust. 4 and Adls 1.18. 52 53

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ordering of the text: why does Holy Sion follow the spring of Siloam as the penultimate intramural site? To this point, Bede has followed the intramural sequence of Ep. Faust. 6-9, choosing not to break up the Holy Sepulchre – Temple – pool of Bethesda – spring of Siloam sequence of his fifth-century source. While Eucherius, having described Holy Sion earlier in the text, proceeds to the Jehoshaphat Valley following the spring of Siloam, Bede has intramural sites still to discuss. Does Holy Sion’s placement reflect any particular consideration, or is Bede simply filling in the leftover material? Mt Sion once again is the key. Whereas the spring of Siloam was ‘on the steep rocky side of Mt Sion which faces east’, Holy Sion was just up the hill ‘at the top of Mt Sion’.58 Bede uses topographical details found in Eucherius to logically place Holy Sion after the spring of Siloam. Bede then turns to the Sion commemorations, beginning with Eucherius’ central image of the church: it was ‘founded by the apostles because there they received the Holy Spirit’.59 Bede is then left with Adls’ impoverished textual description and its more fulsome plan of the church to finish the account.60 Incorporating information from the labelled diagram before concluding with Adomnán’s text, Bede cites the other two events principally identified with Holy Sion: ‘there too Saint Mary died and there too is shown the place of the venerable Lord’s Supper’.61 Then, turning to the only commemoration that is referenced in both the text and the diagram of Adls, Bede includes the marble column of scourging standing in the middle of the church.62 Bede has now exhausted the contents of the diagram, and similar to his account of the Holy Sepulchre, Bede inserts his plan of Holy Sion precisely at the point where text and diagram no longer correspond. He concludes his description of Holy Sion by noting a fifth commemoration associated with the site – the rock on which Stephen was stoned – which is mentioned in the text of Adls but does not appear in its plans of the church. Even though Bede was given very little information on the appearance of Holy Sion, he omits the detail that it was built of stone. Cf.  Ep. Faust. 9 and 4 with Bdls 2.4-5. Cf.  Ep. Faust. 4 with Bdls 2.5. 60 On the manuscript drawings of Holy Sion for Adls and Bdls, see JW (2002), 375-79. 61 Bdls 2.5. 62 While Adls describes a marble column in the diagram, the text refers to a rock. Cf. JW (2002), 179, nt. 35. 58 59

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The Column of the Miraculous Healing Bede finishes Bdls 2 with Adls’ column of the Miraculous Healing, which completes Arculf ’s walkthrough of the Holy Sepulchre as well as Adls’ description of intramural Jerusalem.63 The same question that we asked of Holy Sion applies to the column. Having separated the column from Adls’ Holy Sepulchre material, is Bede merely pasting a final holy site into his account of intramural Jerusalem, or is his placement of the column at the end of the chapter based upon any particular reasons, topographical or otherwise? In short, where did Bede think the column was located, and why does he place it at the end of the chapter? Is there a topographical link between the column and Holy Sion similar to the Mt Sion connection between Holy Sion and the spring of Siloam? While Holy Sion was on the southern end of the city, Adls’ column was ‘in the middle of the city’ and north of the holy places.64 In other words, the column was on the opposite side of the holy places from Holy Sion, and we can dismiss the idea of a spatial connection between the sites. The fact that Bede omits the phrase, ‘north of the holy places’, merely stating that the column was located in the middle of Jerusalem, suggests that he thought the column was proximate to the Holy Sepulchre, and he presumably realized that the column’s commemorations were intrinsically linked to the sites of Jesus’ passion. Bede mentions both events of the legend of the Holy Cross. Having associated the first event, the Finding of the True Cross, with the Martyrium, Bede could assume from the legend that the commemoration of the second event, the Miraculous Healing, was not far away. Bede’s association of the centre of the world with the Holy Sepulchre is more explicit.65 Following Adomnán, Bede cites Ps 74:12, ‘Yet God, our King of old, worked salvation in the midst of the earth’, before adding his own quote from Victorinus of Poitiers: ‘there is a place, which we believe to be the centre of the whole world. The Jews call it in their own language, Golgotha’.66 Bede not only connects the centre of the world directly to Golgotha, the fact that the link is more explicitly expressed in Bdls, suggests that Bede, as a reader of Adls, presumed that the column was relatively close to Golgotha and Cf.  Bdls 2.6 with Adls 1.11. Cf.  Ep. Faust. 3; Adls 1.1.6 and 1.11.1. 65 Cf.  Adls 1.11.2-3. Abridging Adomnán’s description of the phenomenon, Bede does not mention the noonday setting, simply referring to ‘no shadow at the summer solstice’. 66 Cf.  Bdls 2.6 with Adls 1.11.4. 63

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subsequently strengthened its association in the text, which likely accounts for why he deleted ‘to the north of the holy places’.67 The column, in fact, was located in the immediate vicinity from where Bede first began his tour of the Holy Sepulchre, and Bdls 2 describes a circuit of the holy sites that begins and ends at the eastern entrance of the complex. Was this intentional on the part of Bede, or is it an incidental result of his arrangement of the material? Given the fact that the column was in the middle of Jerusalem and had commemorative links with Golgotha, we must presume that Bede, who demonstrates an acute awareness of the topographical landscape, was aware that he had returned to the Holy Sepulchre. By concluding where he started, does Bede perceive his account of intramural Jerusalem to reflect a discernible circuit? Having previously stated that the city was round – thus, the cardinal points were of equidistance – Bdls enters the city from the north heading south to the Holy Sepulchre in the middle of the city. Bdls then describes the Temple, which was located against Jerusalem’s eastern wall. While the pool of Bethesda was somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Temple, the spring of Siloam was on the eastern slope of Mt Sion at the southern end of Jerusalem, or the southeast corner of the city. Bdls then proceeds to the summit of Mt Sion before finishing in the middle of Jerusalem in the immediate area of the Holy Sepulchre. The fact that Bdls 2 ends by describing a column that it ‘passed’ when it originally entered the Holy Sepulchre finds precedent in how Bede handled the Holy Sepulchre material earlier in the chapter.68 Moreover, while Bede’s description of intramural Jerusalem covers the northern, eastern and southern areas of the city, Bdls 3 begins by going out the western gate. The details are too refined to be merely coincidental. Ordering the holy sites based upon a cogent mental map of the city, Bede meticulously integrates two divergent texts while retaining a high degree of spatial orientation and topographical coherence. As a fitting end to his description of intramural Jerusalem, Bede returns to the setting of Christian salvation and the themes of Golgotha and the Holy Cross. While lacking the exceptionality of Adls, Bdls has a sophisticated interest in the theological significance of place. 67 Bede’s redaction of the material provides an example of how one would reasonably interpret the location of the column without the influence of the Madaba Map. 68 Bdls passes the eastern entrance of the Holy Sepulchre three times in its circuit of intramural Jerusalem. See fig. 11.

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Bdls 3: The Tree of Judas and Aceldama Based upon Adls’ circuit of Mt Sion, Bdls 3 describes the tree of Judas and Aceldama.69 Two additional landmarks appear in the chapter, David’s Gate and an unnamed bridge. Commencing Bede’s description of extramural Jerusalem, Bdls 3 opens with the statement: ‘to those going out of the city by David’s Gate’.70 Unlike Adls, which includes the phrases, ‘when one goes westwards out of the city’ and ‘as one keeps Mt Sion on the left’, Bede does not remind his readers that David’s Gate was ‘on the west side of Mt Sion’, which he previously established in Bdls 1.71 Bede presumes the reader’s retention of the details. Having exited the gate, Adls’ direction to keep Mt Sion on the left is intended to orient the reader to the south. The ambiguous phrase, which makes more sense if one is walking the land, is indicative of an oral dialogue between two people and reflects an instance in which Adomnán did not translate the wording of Arculf into clearer language, such as the use of cardinal directions, for a readership unfamiliar with the topography of Jerusalem. Adls then refers to a stone bridge that ran south through the unnamed Hinnom Valley. The bridge was south or southwest of David’s Gate. Bede combines Adls’ movements upon exiting the gate and the location of the bridge into a single statement: from the western gate ‘a bridge can been seen to the south’.72 Bede has made reasonable assumptions of the text and the Jerusalem terrain. While explicitly orienting the reader to the south, which is the effect of keeping Mt Sion on the left, Bede calls attention to a bridge that lay in a southerly direction from the city’s western gate. Unlike Adomnán, Bede does not explicitly state that the bridge itself ran in an southerly direction. Yet, the bridge’s north-south orientation is a redundant detail that can be deduced from Bede’s ensuing statement, taken from Adomnán, that the tree of Judas was ‘west of the centre of this bridge’.73 While the orientation of the bridge is ultimately irrelevant, the example highlights how abridged material can retain the essential 69 The chapter is based upon Adls 1.16-19, save for Adls 1.18, the church of Holy Sion, which was previously discussed in Bdls 2. Eucherius makes no contribution to the chapter. 70 Bdls 3.1. 71 Cf.  Bdls 1.2 with Adls 1.1.2. 72 Bdls 3.1. 73 A reference point to a bridge’s center only makes sense in terms of perpendicular directions. Thus, west of centre implies that the bridge had a north-south alignment. West of centre of a east-west bridge is a nonsensical concept.

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details of a text. Bede does not repeat the location of David’s Gate, which was on the western side of Mt Sion. He conflates two separate points into a single directional statement, replacing a relative direction (left) with a cardinal direction (south), and has left out the bridge’s orientation.74 Yet, in the end, both texts arrive at the same location: a tree west of the middle of a bridge that was south of the city’s western gate. While Adomnán describes a ‘great fig tree’ that was ‘seen there even today’, Bede merely states that the tree was ‘extremely old’! Bede concludes the account by repeating Adls’ quotation of Juvencus: ‘He took an ugly death from the top of a fig-tree’.75 Bdls 3 ends with a description of Aceldama, which takes the reader to the south side of Mt Sion.76 Bede’s slightly condensed version of Adls 1.19, which, following Adomnán, is without biblical references, focuses on the site as an active cemetery for foreigners. While some bodies were covered with earth, others were left ‘unburied and rotting’.77

Bdls 4: The Cloth Relics of Jerusalem Bdls 4 is a compendium of Adls 1.9-10, which covers the head cloth of Christ and the woven cloth of Mary.78 Capturing the gist of Adls’ narrative, Bede’s abridged story of the head cloth focuses on whether Jews or Christians were its rightful owners. After a period of lawsuits in which the Christians tried unsuccessfully to acquire the relic from a Jewish family, the case came before Mu’awiya, the ‘king of the Saracens’, who, Bede notes, ‘was alive in our day’.79 Adjudicating the conflict, Mu’awiya placed the object above an open fire. The cloth rose in the air before settling upon a Christian, indicating by divine miracle that Christians were its true heirs. The anti-Jewish implications of the story and the role of Mu’awiya as an arbitrator of Christian supremacy are retained from Adls. Bede concludes the story by stating that the venerated relic was eighth feet long, omitting Adls’ reference that the cloth was kept in a ‘church casket’. Bdls offers no further details regarding its location. 74 Adls’ physical description of the bridge – it was made of stone and supported by arches – is also omitted by Bede. 75 Cf.  Bdls 3.1 with Adls 1.17. 76 Following Adls’ description of Aceldama, the site was opposite the south end of Mt Sion on the southern escarpment of the Hinnom Valley. Cf. Lib. Loc. 39.27. 77 Cf.  Bdls 3.2 with Adls 1.19. 78 Cf. ch. 4.2, ‘The Church of Mary’s Weaving’ and ‘The Head Cloth of Christ’. 79 Bdls 4.2.

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The second object mentioned in Bdls 4 is the cloth of Mary. Following Adls, the relic, which was bigger than the head cloth, contained an image of the Lord and the twelve apostles; it was red on one side and green on the other side. Adls indicates rather vaguely that the cloth was in a church ‘in the city of Jerusalem’. Omitting the redundant reference to Jerusalem, Bede simply states that the relic was in a church.80 The cloth relics belong to Adls’ account of the Holy Sepulchre and, thus, to Adls’ description of intramural Jerusalem. By contrast, Bede creates a standalone chapter dedicated to the cloth relics. Since the objects are not the only relics described in Adls, why does Bede treat the cloth relics differently? Moreover, instead of following Bede’s description of intramural Jerusalem, the material is placed after Bdls’ first extramural chapter. Why does Bede separate the cloth relics from their Adls context, and what explains the apparent dislocation of Bdls 4 within Bede’s text? To the point, where did Bede think the objects were located? Although the information in Adls is unusually sparse and ambiguous, the sequence – the relics follow the soldier’s spear that was located in the portico of the Martyrium and precede the column of Miraculous Healing in the middle of Jerusalem – implies an intramural location. Bede could have gathered from Adls 1.2.1 that if the relics were inside the walls then they were likewise located in the Holy Sepulchre as he knew from the lance that Adls’ diagram of the complex was not comprehensive. The sudarium’s association with the tomb of Christ is particularly suggestive (Adls 1.9), while Bede was aware that the Holy Sepulchre contained Marian commemorations (Adls 1.10).81 Although Adls’ description of the cloth relics is remiss in detail, Bede could have surmised a connection between the cloth relics and the Holy Sepulchre. At the very least, he knew that the Marian relic was ‘in the city of Jerusalem’, a description that implies an intramural location. Despite these clues, Bede, whose description of intramural Jerusalem has a high degree of topographical clarity, places the cloth relics in a separate chapter almost certainly due to the locational ambiguity of Adls 1.9-10. One problem still remains. Instead of following Bede’s account of the intramural sites (Bdls 2), Bdls 4 oddly appears after the first chapter on extramural Jerusalem (Bdls 3). The apparent displacement of Bdls 4 is resolved once the transitional significance of Bdls 5.1 is understood.

Cf.  Bdls 4.3 with Adls 1.10. Cf.  Adls 1.4.

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Bdls 5.1: Leaving Jerusalem Bdls 5 opens with an elaboration of Adls 1.20, itself an expansion of Ep. Faust. 10: ‘round Jerusalem the country has a rough hill character’. The phrase functions as a brief transition in Eucherius, separating the preceding material of intramural Jerusalem and the Jehoshaphat Valley from the Mt of Olives and more distant destinations. Adls 1.20 retains Eucherius’ placement in the text insomuch as it precedes the Mt of Olives. However, the previous material of Adls, the extramural sections of the Jehoshaphat Valley and Mt Sion, is more complex. Consistent with other clues in the text, Adls 1.20 effectively delineates the swath of land immediately adjacent to the city walls as a component feature of Adls’ depiction of Jerusalem. Bede’s redaction of the texts is twofold: he elaborates upon the contents and he repositions the material. While Adomnán takes a general comment about the rough countryside around Jerusalem and develops it into a statement on the landscapes stretching to the north and west of the country, Bede turns the paragraph into a larger description of the Promised Land from Dan to Beersheba, promoting information found elsewhere in Eucherius.82 Bede has also repositioned the material. Whereas Eucherius and Adomnán place the transition prior to the Mt of Olives, Bede moves it (Bdls 5.1) in front of his description of the Jehoshaphat Valley, where it proceeds the intramural material (Bdls 2), Bede’s first extramural chapter (Bdls 3) and the cloth relics (Bdls 4).83 What does Bdls 5.1 tell us about Bede’s structure of Jerusalem? To the point, Bdls 5.1 marks a transition in Bdls that replicates Eucherius’ division between Jerusalem and places beyond. The Jerusalem material in Ep. Faust. is oriented around the construct of Mt Sion rather than the city walls as it is in Adls. The dynamic is partially muted in Eucherius since the holy sites of Mt Sion, namely, Holy Sion and the spring of Siloam, are inside the city. Having described the intramural sites, Eucherius simply proceeds to the Jehoshaphat Valley. Adls’ manipulation of intramural Jerusalem includes the extramural relegation of Mt Sion. When Bede corrects the distortion, he moves Holy Sion to his chapter on intramural Jerusalem. Yet, for good reason, Bede does not place Aceldama and the fig tree of Judas, sites of death and burial, inside the city walls, which is key to understanding his arrangement of Bdls 2-6. 82 Cf.  Bdls 5.1 with Adls 1.20 and Ep. Faust. 10, 16 and 18. Bdls 5.1 makes independent use of Jerome and Eucherius. 83 See tables 2-5.

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In short, Bede considers the Mt Sion sites (Bdls 3) as proper Jerusalem. The operative distinction in Bdls is not between intramural and nonintramural material or even Jerusalem and non-Jerusalem material. Rather, the organizing principle is between Mt Sion and non-Mt Sion material. Mt Sion as intramural Jerusalem would not present a problem for Bede, except Adomnán leaves him with two additional sites. When Bede investigated the material, he understood Adls 1.16-19 to be a circuit of Mt Sion with Aceldama located on its southern slope. As a result, Bede treats Bdls 3 as an integral part of Jerusalem–Mt Sion, arranging the contents of Adls according to the Mt Sion orientation of Eucherius. Why didn’t Bede consider the Jehoshaphat Valley, which flanked the city walls, to be part of Jerusalem? Precisely for the same reason: Mt Sion is not mentioned by either Eucherius or Adls in their descriptions of the Jehoshaphat Valley. Although Bdls 6 includes a comparison of Mt Sion and the Mount of Olive, Mt of Olives was a separate mountain a mile’s distance from Jerusalem.84 Bdls’ attention to distance is another indicator that Bdls 5.1 initiates the text’s move beyond Jerusalem. While the Jehoshaphat Valley was ‘beside the east wall of Jerusalem’, thus, outside the city, the next several locations are introduced by their increasing distance from Jerusalem. The Mt of Olives was one mile from the Holy City; Bethany was fifteen stades from the city, and Bethlehem was six miles away.85 The fact that consecutive sections – Bdls 4 and Bdls 5.1 – seem respectively out of place challenges our assumptions regarding the constructs shaping Bede’s arrangement of the material. Why do the cloth relics follow the first chapter on extramural Jerusalem rather than the intramural sites of Bdls 2? Why does Bdls 5.1 contain an overview of the entire Promised Land before commencing with its description of the Jehoshaphat Valley? In sum, Bede’s Jerusalem is based upon the construct of Mt Sion and, consequently, consists of the intramural city (Bdls 2) 84 Bdls 6.1. Even Bede’s descriptions of the Ascension lamps reflect a difference in the texts regarding the physical intimacy between the Mt of Olives and Jerusalem. In Adls, the lamps illuminate the Jehoshaphat Valley all the way to the city of Jerusalem, while on the feast of the Ascension, the extra lamps ‘light up the whole area of the city below’. In Bdls, the lamps merely shine towards Jerusalem, while during the feast, the additional illumination only lights up ‘the Mount and its surroundings’. Cf. Adls 1.23.12, 20 with Bdls 6.2. 85 Cf.  Bdls 6.1; 6.3 and 7.1. While greater Jerusalem is defined by the contents of Adls Book 1, Bdls’ eighteen chapters, similar to Eucherius’ single-book format, has no corresponding division. The Bethlehem material that initiates Adls Book 2 and marks Adomnán’s transition beyond Jerusalem simply starts a new chapter in Bede.

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as well as the Mt Sion sights of Aceldama and the fig tree (Bdls 3). The dislodged relics (Bdls 4) do not follow an ‘extramural’ chapter per se; rather, Bede has placed them immediately after the Jerusalem–Mt Sion material. Since the Jehoshaphat Valley was not a part of Jerusalem–Mt Sion, Bede moves Bdls 5.1 forward, where it marks the text’s transition between Jerusalem and points beyond. The Jehoshaphat Valley initiates a new sequence of places unrelated to Mt Sion that are characterized by their increasing distance from Jerusalem.

Bdls 5: The Jehoshaphat Valley Following a well-established pattern, Bdls’ description of the Jehoshaphat Valley makes use of Eucherius and other sources before turning to Adls.86 Beside the city’s east wall, which doubled as the eastern wall of the Temple, was Gehenna, which, following Eucherius, is mentioned without any reference to its biblical associations. The area was also known as the Jehoshaphat Valley; it ran north to south and was filled by the intermittent Brook Kidron.87 A reference from Jerome describes the fertility of the valley and its former associations with the idol Baal.88 Bede’s subsequent redaction of the Adls material is noteworthy in two respects. Bede reorders the sequence, describing the tower of Jehoshaphat (Adls 1.13) and the tombs of Simeon and Joseph (Adls 1.14) prior to the church of Mary’s Tomb (Adls 1.12). Secondly, he omits Adls 1.15, Adomnán’s description of the Gethsemane grotto. The Tower of Jehoshaphat Why does Bede reorder the Adls material, moving the tower of Jehoshaphat to the front of the cue? Although the reason is not obvious, two possible explanations are worth exploring. One possibility is that from Bdls’ last fixed site, Aceldama, on the south side of Mt Sion, the text continues in a counterclockwise movement around the outside of the city bringing it to the tower of Jehoshaphat before reaching the tomb of Mary.89 The idea is suggestive since the sequence of Bdls can be construed as a continuous route; however, it presumes a locational precision 86 Cf.  Bdls 5 with Ep. Faust. 9 and Adls 1.12-15, 20. See chs 3.6 and 4.2, ‘The Jehoshaphat Valley’. 87 Also found in Bdls 1.3, which follows Adls 1.1.12’s use of Ep. Faust. 9. 88 Cf. Jerome, Commentariorum in Matheum, 10.28. 89 See fig. 11.

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not found in Adls 1.12-14, which merely places the tower of Jehoshaphat and the tomb of Mary ‘in the same valley’. Moreover, one would actually pass the nearby tombs of Joseph and Simon before reaching the tower of Jehoshaphat. A more likely possibility is that Bede, having introduced the name of the valley, was attracted by the idea of commencing his description of the valley’s sites with the tomb of its eponymous king: ‘here is the tower of King Jehoshaphat containing his tomb’.90 Bede omits Adls’ description of the tower as ‘not far from the church of St Mary’.91 The Tombs of Simeon and Joseph To the right of the tower and cut out from the Mt of Olives were the tombs of Simeon and Joseph, the spouse of Mary.92 Bede deletes the commemorative references to Simeon as the one ‘who clasped the Lord Jesus as a baby in his arms and uttered a prophecy about him’ and to Joseph as the one ‘who brought up the Lord Jesus’. Bdls likewise omits the detail that the chiselled tombs were undecorated. The Church of Mary’s Tomb In a faithful abridgement of Adls 1.12, Bede devotes a paragraph to Adomnán’s description of the church of Mary’s Tomb. Focusing first on the church’s architecture, Bdls indicates that the round church consisted of two levels that were separated by a stone vault. The upper church had four altars. The lower church had an altar at its eastern end, while on the right, or to the south, was the tomb of Mary. Bede notes the agnosticism over the fate of Mary’s body – ‘it is not known by whom or when she was removed’ – but omits Adls’ eschatological reference – ‘or where it awaits resurrection’.93 Bdls includes the rock of Agony containing the knee prints of Jesus in prayer on the night of his arrest that had been placed in the lower part of the church. Bede’s redaction of the stone relic deletes Adomnán’s only explicit reference to Gethsemane. Consequently, the place name never appears in Bdls. 90 When Bede rearranges the order of Adls, it is generally based upon the influence of Eucherius. The fact that Bede has used Eucherius to introduce the Jehoshaphat Valley lends support to the idea that Bede gave priority to Jehoshaphat’s tomb based upon the eponymous connection. 91 Cf.  Bdls 5.2 with Adls 1.13. 92 Cf.  Bdls 5.2 with Adls 1.14. 93 Cf.  Bdls 5.3 with Adls 12.3.

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The Grotto of Gethsemane Adls 1.15, which concerns the cave associated in pilgrim tradition with the arrest of Jesus, otherwise known as the grotto of Gethsemane, is the only chapter in Adls Book 1 that Bede completely omits. Given Bede’s attention to the details of sacred topography and the mindfulness with which he redacts the material, his omission of Adls 1.15 was not accidental: Adomnán presents Bede with a place that is not mentioned in the Bible. Adls does not link the grotto to Gethsemane, while Scripture does not mention a cave on the Mt of Olives. Although Bede likely deduced that Adls 1.15 was near biblical Gethsemane – Adls places the cave above the church of Mary’s Tomb on the Mt of Olives facing the Jehoshaphat Valley – there was no particular reason for him to have identified the cave with the Gethsemane commemorations, especially since Jesus’ prayer and betrayal were associated in Adls 1.12 with the rock relic located in the church of Mary’s Tomb.94 Not only did it lack scriptural credentials, Adls associates the cave with an extra-biblical tradition: frequent meals between Jesus and the disciples. Other sources refer to the Lord’s Supper, otherwise commemorated at Holy Sion.95 John Rufus, c. 500, refers to a ‘cenacle of the disciples’ on the Mt of Olives, listed in sequence between Gethsemane and the place of the Ascension, while the early sixth-century report of Theodosius explicitly links the cave with the Lord’s Supper and Jesus’ washing of the disciples’ feet.96 Although Adls 1.15 does not link the cave to the Lord’s Supper, the reference to meals likely made Bede’s suspicion of material. The presumption is supported by the attention that Bede pays to the Lord’s Supper in his description of Holy Sion. While the text of Adls never mentions the commemoration, which appears as a label in the top left-hand corner of its drawing of the church, Bede addressed the lacuna by explicitly stating that Holy Sion contained ‘the place of the venerable Lord’s Supper’.97 By shoring up Adls’ account of Holy Sion, Cf. Mt 26:39; Mk 14:32; Lk 22:39 and Jn 18:1. The alternative tradition of the Mt of Olives contradicted the gospel accounts that the Lord’s Supper took place inside the city. Cf. Mt 26:18; Mk 14:12-16 and Lk 22:8-12. 96 Cf. John Rufus, Vita Petri Iberi r99 in JW (2002), 101. Wilkinson’s association of Rufus’ Cenacle of the Disciples with the Eleona (p. 101, map 17) is almost certainly incorrect given the testimony of DSTS 10, which links the commemoration with the grotto. 97 Bdls 2.5. 94 95

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Bede removes any doubt about the venue of the Lord’s Supper, and his omission of Adls 1.15 likely reflects a conscious intention to avoid confusion regarding its location. In the end, Adls’ description of the cave failed to meet Bede’s criterion of a biblical site that was worth remembering.

Bdls 6: The Mt of Olives and its Holy Places Bdls 6, which concludes the corresponding material of Adls Book 1, describes the three Mt of Olives churches in the same sequence in which they appear in Adomnán: the Ascension, the tomb of Lazarus and the Eleona.98 Omitting the tomb of Lazarus, Eucherius mentions the Ascension and the Eleona but in reverse order. Thus, Bdls 6 contains a rare instance in which Bede follows Adls’ order over that of Eucherius. The chapter begins by stating that the Mt of Olives was one mile from Jerusalem and continues with a physical description of the mountain that essentially replicates Adls 1.21-22.99 The Church of the Ascension On the summit of the Mt of Olives, a large, round church commemorated the place of Jesus’ ascension into heaven. Bede’s descriptions and his diagram of the church are faithful to the architectural, commemorative and liturgical details contained in Adls. Although pilgrims constantly removed the earth, the sacred footsteps of Jesus always retained the same appearance;100 the route of Jesus’ bodily ascension could not be blocked or covered, and a great wind blew through the church on the feast of the Ascension.101 Bede refers to the three sets of lamps mentioned in Adls: the great lamp over the footsteps of Christ, the eight lamps in the church’s western wall and the additional lamps used for the feast. However, Bede weakens the intimacy between Jerusalem and the Mt of Olives. According to Adls, the eight lamps illuminate ‘the steps leading all the way up from the Valley of Jehoshaphat to the city of Jerusalem’, while, on the evening of the feast, the supplemental Cf.  Bdls 6 with Adls 1.21-25. The distance between Jerusalem and the Mt of Olives is not mentioned by either Eucherius or Adomnán. 100 Bede’s summary of the footsteps closely follows Sulpicius Severus (Chronicon, 2.33.6-8), suggesting that he may have consulted Severus in his redaction of Adls 1.23. 101 Bede does not link the annual winds to the divine mandate against covering the footsteps of Christ; cf. Adls 1.23.17. 98

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lamps ‘light up the whole area of the city below’. By contrast, the lamps of Bdls shine in the direction of Jerusalem, while the festive illumination merely lights up ‘the Mount and its surroundings’.102 Although Bdls envisions the place of the Ascension as the holiest site after the Holy Sepulchre, the religious imagination of Adls is somewhat diminished.103 The Tomb of Lazarus Bede then turns to Adls 1.24, Adomnán’s description of Bethany and the tomb of Lazarus.104 The dominant feature of Bede’s redactions is his emphasis on the tomb of Lazarus, emending Adls’ discursive approach to the site. Adomnán introduces Bethany as a small clearing surrounded by olives groves before mentioning a monastery and a church, the later built over the cave tomb of Lazarus. Adls 1.24 effectively reads as a short chapter on Bethany in which the ultimate destination of the tomb is introduced after a slightly protracted build-up, similar to how a walker would approach the site. Bede shifts the focus to the tomb of Lazarus, introducing the church without any reference to its relative location before referring to the monastery that was in ‘the region of Bethany’. Bede presumes his reader’s knowledge of Scripture. Whereas Adls refers to the fact that ‘the Lord raised Lazarus when he had been dead for four days’, Bede mentions the ‘tomb of Lazarus’ without further reference to its biblical significance. Denoting Bdls’ progressive movement away from the Holy City, Bede adds that Bethany was fifteen stades from Jerusalem, a detail from Jn 11:18. The Eleona Bede concludes Bdls 6 with a brief reference to the Eleona: ‘there is a third church on this mountain to the south of Bethany, where the Lord before his passion spoke with his disciples about the day of judgment’.105 While the church is briefly mentioned by Eucherius, Adomnán expounds upon the what, when and who of the Synoptic accounts in mak Cf. Bdls 6.2 with Adls 1.23.12, 20. Bede appears to redact what he considers to be exaggerated material. 104 Cf. Bdls 6.3 with Adls 1.24. Neither Bethany nor the tomb of Lazarus are mentioned by Eucherius. 105 Cf. Bdls 6.3 with Adls 1.25; cf. Mk 13; Mt 24-25 and Lk 21. Per Adls, Bede repeats the error that the church was south of Bethany. 102 103

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ing Adls 1.25 the most ambitious piece of exegesis in the text.106 Bede cuts out the exegetical discussion, reducing Adls 1.25 to a single sentence. Yet, Adomnán’s extended attention to the narrative still left its mark on Bede’s brief description of the church ‘where Jesus addressed his disciples’.107 Bede consistently abridges the commemorative references found throughout Adls as he does with the tomb of Lazarus; here, he actually expands upon the formulaic phrase, inserting a slightly more detailed description of the event: ‘the Lord before his passion spoke with his disciples about the day of judgment’.108 Although Bede deletes Adomnán’s exegetical discourse, he supplements ‘Jesus addressed his disciples’ (which was sufficient for ‘who’) by adding the ‘what’ (‘about the day of judgment’) and the ‘when’ (‘before his passion’). In retaining the who, what and when of Adls 1.25, Bdls 6.3 highlights the meticulousness with which Bede comprehended and summarized the material. Bede’s redactions of Adls 1.25 raise a larger question: upon what set of criteria does Bede include or delete material from Adls? Why, for instance, does he omit the body of Adls 1.25, while producing a rich abridgement of the church of the Ascension? As we have seen throughout the chapter, Bede’s redactional tendencies are driven by a commitment to the details of sacred topography, or, in Bede’s terms, the biblical sites worth remembering. Bede deletes material that is not specifically focused upon the holy sites, while retaining the topographical components, if slightly abridged, of commemoration, location and appearance. It is through this lens that we must evaluate Bede’s redaction of Adls 1.25. From the perspective of sacred topography, Adomnán’s exegesis of the Apocalyptic Discourse is little more than an elaborated discussion of the site’s commemoration, and that is exactly how Bede treats it, compressing the exegetical discussion of Adls 1.25 into a singlephrase summary of the site’s biblical significance. Adomnán’s exegetical interests have been reduced to commemorative context. The fact that Bede can create a manual of such singular focus on the holy places by ­abridging Adomnán’s material confirms that a similar interest in commemorative topography forms the core of Adls.

106

103.

Cf. ch. 4.2, ‘The Mt of Olives’ and appendix A2.5. Also see TOL (2007), 94-

The phrasing is derivative of Ep. Faust. 10. Bdls 6.3.

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5.6. Summary of Bede’ De locis sanctis Bdls as Pilgrim Text Bdls sets out to describe ‘the sites of those [biblical] places … specially worth remembering’, and while some attention is given to the physical landscapes of the city and its surrounding areas, the focus of Bede’s description of Jerusalem is the commemorative topography of the holy sites. What Bdls retains and omits from Adls and Eucherius consistently underscores its purpose. The most noteworthy omissions from Adls include the narrative of the baptism of Jerusalem, the exegetical discussion of the Apocalyptic Discourse and the grotto of Gethsemane. In each case, Bede’s redactions follow his stated intent: the topographical details of the baptism narrative are retained, the exegetical discourse is condensed into a single statement concerning the commemoration of the Eleona and the grotto, due to its depiction as an extra-biblical site, is deleted altogether. Similarly, the details that Bede retains from Eucherius, such as the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, demonstrate his comprehensive approach to ‘the sites of biblical places’. One of the curiosities in Bdls is Bede’s formation of a separate chapter for the two cloth relics, reflecting a temporary shift from holy places to sacred objects. Yet, as Bede demonstrates throughout the Jerusalem material, religious objects are part and parcel of the sacred landscape. Bdls abridges Adls, and the details of commemoration, location and appearance are accordingly redacted. References to commemoration lend themselves rather easily to reduction since the readership had a shared knowledge of Scripture, and Bede trims extra words and phrases throughout the material that refer to the sites’ related narratives. At times, a single place name suffices. While some appeal to the reader’s biblical imagination may be lost, little actual information is sacrificed in the process. Yet, when useful, Bede strengthens the commemorative identification of a site. He adds Helena to the legend of the Holy Cross and fills out Adls’ impoverished text of Holy Sion by citing the commemorations labelled in the diagram. He acknowledges the exegetical discussion of Adls 1.25 by providing a slightly expanded reference to the commemorative significance of the Eleona. Bede is attentive to the question of commemoration, editing the extraneous and shoring up the gaps. While Bede consistently trims the language of commemoration, the details of location and appearance are largely retained. One of the most impressive characteristics of Bdls is Bede’s acute attention to spatial ori-

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entation. Bede always knows where he is on his mental map of Jerusalem, a point made evident by his survey of the Holy Sepulchre and his circuit of intramural Jerusalem. Bede reproduces, and at times strengthens, the directional details of his sources. He changes Adls’ ‘as one keeps Mt Sion on the left’ in favour of a cardinal direction. The lack of orientation in Adls 1.13-14, however, forces Bede to retain the description of the tombs of Simeon and Joseph as right of the tower of Jehoshaphat. Bede also adds distances that are not found in either Eucherius or Adomnán. The Mt of Olives was one mile from Jerusalem; Bethany was fifteen stades from Jerusalem. The attention to distance continues throughout Book 2. Bede cuts locational detail in a couple of instances. Having previously established that David’s Gate was ‘on the west side of Mt Sion’, he does not repeat the description in Bdls 3, despite its importance for understanding the location and movement of the text. Bede viewed the statement that the Marian cloth was ‘in the city of Jerusalem’ as an obsolete phrase. Most noteworthy is his deletion of ‘north of the holy places’ in reference to the column of the Miraculous Healing, which was presumably dropped to sharpen the column’s theological connection with Golgotha. As with location, Bede consistently retains the physical descriptions of the holy sites, which are the nuts and bolts of commemorative topography. His attentiveness to the particulars is demonstrated by his occasional reinterpretation of the material. He carefully repositions the line of the southern wall. While Adls describes the tomb of Christ as one and a half feet above the height of an average man, Bede states that a standing man could touch its ceiling. Bede also reckoned that a tree from the time of Judas was extremely old! Other details have been abridged or omitted. Adls’ slightly repetitive description of the Ascension church is consolidated; Adomnán’s depiction of the Aceldama burials is also condensed. While Adls notes that the tombs of Christ, Simeon and Joseph respectively lacked interior decoration, Bede omits the information. The stone-built attribute of the Holy Sion church is likewise deleted. Redactions pertaining to the lamps of Adls create small but noticeable differences between the texts. Adls’ word picture of resurrection light shining in the empty tomb of Christ is less developed, and the intimacy between the Mt of Olives and Jerusalem indicated by the illuminative reach of the Ascension lamps is reduced. Image and meaning sometimes fall victim, even unwittingly, to the economy of the redactor’s pen. Bede is particularly attentive to the manuscript drawings of Adls, inserting his own plans of the three churches precisely at the point at which the diagrams no longer correspond with the text. He is aware that

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the plan of the Holy Sepulchre does not cover Adls’ entire description of the complex. Bede reverses the order of the altar of Abraham and the Lord’s chalice based upon Adls’ diagram, while he uses the plan of Holy Sion to shore up Adls’ account of the church. According to O’Loughlin, ‘the most significant thing about Bede is not what he includes but rather what he leaves out’, adding that ‘many of the more involved theological issues raised by Adomnán are omitted’.109 Yet, Bdls’ identity as a treatise of commemorative topography is consistently expressed in both respects – by what it excludes and by what it retains. Bdls omits some of the most identifiable material of Adls, including the baptism of Jerusalem and the Apocalyptic Discourse, pericopes that are particularly rich in eschatological imagery and exegetical insight, and Bede’s dismantling of Adls’ image of the Holy City as New Jerusalem makes pedestrian work out of exceptional material. In this respect, Bdls is less theological than Adls. Nonetheless, the measure and purpose by which Bede redacted the material must be accurately recognized. O’Loughlin’s idea that Bede produced Bdls as an easier theological treatise for students to master before advancing to the more sophisticated theology of Adomnán fails to grasp the redactional principle driving Bede. It likewise neglects the authoritative influence of Eucherius. Bede did not omit material because he was disinterested in theology nor as an attempt to create a simplified introduction to Adls. His omission of the miraculous, including whole chapters of Book 3, was not a reaction to what he found to be embarrassing or gullible.110 Rather, Bede marshalled the material according to a singular purpose: to describe the sites of the biblical places. The extra-biblical grotto of Gethsemane fell victim no less than the baptism of Jerusalem and the Apocalyptic Discourse.111 In sum, a few points are worth reemphasizing regarding Bdls. First of all, the fact that Bede is a remote writer and that the text is not an independent source on the Holy Land does not disqualify Bdls from being a pilgrim text. Secondly, that Bede’s abridgement of Adls could produce a treatise of such singular focus on the holy places underscores the point that commemorative topography forms the essential core of Adls. Third, unlike Adls, Bdls does not develop secondary interests, such TOL (2007), 197, 195. Cf. TOL (2007), xiv, 197. 111 Cf. TOL (2007), 197, which discusses the omissions of Bede without considering the grotto of Gethsemane. 109 110

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as eschatology or exegesis. While Bdls lacks the religious imagination of Adls, Bede’s work is a sophisticated theological text focused upon the significance of place in the Christian faith.

Bede’s use of Adls and Eucherius Just as Bede’s relationship to Adls emerges once his use of Eucherius is understood, his reliance upon the fifth-century source exposes the breadth of Bdls’ divergence from Adls. Bede and Adls Bede incorporates Adls. Adomnán’s text provides Bede with the vast majority of his Jerusalem material, a point that has obscured a more basic dynamic: little of Adls appears in its original order independent of Eucherius. Bede rearranges Adls. Bede significantly restructures the Adls material. He revises Adls’ sequence of the Holy Sepulchre. He moves the Temple and Holy Sion to his discussion of intramural Jerusalem, and he creates a standalone chapter for the cloth relics. Mt Sion, rather than the Jehoshaphat Valley, immediately follows Bede’s account of intramural Jerusalem. Sites in the Holy Sepulchre and Jehoshaphat Valley sections have been flipped. Bede corrects Adls. Bede restores the intramural status of Holy Sion, resolving the key distortion of Adls. He affirms the city’s circular shape, negating Adomnán’s implicit depiction of Jerusalem as a foursquare city. Bede supplements Adls. Bede adds sites from Eucherius missing from Adomnán’s account, namely, the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, and includes independent details like the Temple bridge. Bede reduces Adls. Bede abridges the material, while making significant cuts to material not directly related to the holy sites. Bede deconstructs Adls. By correcting, supplementing and rearranging the material, Bede deconstructs the central image of Adls: Jerusalem as the templeless city of Christ. Bede diminishes Adls’ juxtaposition between the ruined Temple and the Holy Sepulchre, producing a straightforward topographical text that has less imagination than the work of his Iona counterpart. The fullness of Adls’ eschatological imagery is lost in Bdls.

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Bede and Eucherius While the large majority of Bdls’ material comes from Adls, keys details are derived directly from Eucherius, including the circular shape of the city, the historical reference to Hadrian, the northerly entrance into the city, the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam. In a couple of instances, Bede tweaks the order of Eucherius. Bede flips the opening sequence of Eucherius based upon historical considerations, while moving Holy Sion to his chapter on the intramural sites. Bede brings the transition of Ep. Faust. 10 (Adls 1.20) forward, beginning his move away from Jerusalem with the Jehoshaphat Valley instead of the Mt of Olives. Bede otherwise adheres to the structure of Eucherius.112 Bede’s composition of Jerusalem is characterized by a cut-and-paste approach in which he incorporates material from Adls into the template of Eucherius.113 Bede gives precedence to Eucherius. When Bede has information on a site from both sources, such as Golgotha, Holy Sion and the Jehoshaphat Valley, he holds the entry of Eucherius ‘in place’ before supplementing it with information from the Iona text.114 When Adls is Bede’s only source, he inserts the material into an appropriate place within Eucherius’ framework. Bede uses Eucherius to correct Adls. Bede attends to the intramural status of Mt Sion, emending Adls’ relegation of the holy mountain. Bede adds the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, sites missing in Adomnán’s text. Bede repeats the topographical distortions of Eucherius. Bede conflates the Jerusalemite hills, adopting the image of the Holy City as a single mountain, and replicates Eucherius’ error that locates the spring of Siloam at the bottom of Mt Sion. Bede’s image of Jerusalem adheres closely to that of Eucherius. Bede’s Jerusalem is round. Mt Sion is its dominant physical feature, and the ruined Temple is included among the intramural sites of the city.115 While Adls supplies Bede with the vast bulk of his contents, when we look at structure, sequence and image, we find a different story. Eucherius, rather than Adls, is the authoritative text. The ancient writings of Eucherius held sway over Adomnán’s ‘very beautiful narrative’. See tables 2-10, esp. 6. Cf. TOL (2007), 194, which states regarding Bede’s revision of other texts that he ‘either cuts-and-pastes sentences or paragraphs from previous teachers … or recombines material that had already been cut out of their original contexts’. The practice strongly applies to Bede’s cut-and-paste approach to Adls. 114 See table 6. 115 Cf. figs 6 and 10. 112 113

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The Structure and Sequence of Bdls We turn now to an overview of the Jerusalem material, while continuing to note Bede’s use of his principal sources. Following Eucherius, Bede establishes the topographical dominance of Mt Sion and the historical expansions of the city before ever turning to Adomnán (Bdls 1). Contra Adls, the Holy Sepulchre is approached from the north, and Bdls begins the tour of the Holy Sepulchre from the eastern steps of the Martyrium. Bede remarkably describes the primary sites of the complex as a westward approach to the tomb before reversing his movements and describing the secondary sites of Adls on his way out. He then follows Eucherius’ Temple–pool of Bethesda–spring of Siloam sequence. Bede’s placement of Holy Sion differs from both texts; however, he follows the topographical clues of Eucherius, which place both the spring and the church on Mt Sion. Returning to the Holy Sepulchre, his description of intramural Jerusalem ends with the column of the Miraculous Healing as it does in Adls (Bdls 2). Having surveyed the northern, eastern and southern parts of the city, Bdls, now in the centre of Jerusalem, continues out the West Gate and around the slopes of Mt Sion. While the material has moved beyond the walls of Jerusalem, Bede’s concept of Jerusalem follows Eucherius’ orientation to Mt Sion rather than Adomnán’s focus on the city walls. The tree of Judas and Aceldama belong to the Mt Sion material and finish Bede’s account of the Holy City (Bdls 3), followed by the standalone chapter of the cloth relics (Bdls 4). Marking an important transition in the text, Bdls 5.1 summarizes the expanse of the Promised Land, before commencing its movement beyond Jerusalem with the Jehoshaphat Valley followed by the Mt of Olives (Bdls 5-6). While the content of Bdls is dominated by Adls, Bede has followed the template, sequence and organizing principles of Eucherius. Three sequences within Bdls are especially remarkable: 1) its bidirectional tour of the Holy Sepulchre; 2) its coherent circuit of the intramural city, which begins and ends at the eastern end of the Holy Sepulchre and 3) its entire circuit of Jerusalem, which can be traced as a continuum from its North Gate entry to its conclusion on the Mt of Olives. Bede’s attention to spatial orientation and physical movement is exceptional for a remotely-written pilgrim text that is based exclusively upon written sources.

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Bdls’ Image of Jerusalem Bdls’ primary image of Jerusalem has three distinctive characteristics with respect to Adls. First of all, Bdls’ Jerusalem is a busier city. Whereas Adomnán depicts the walled city as consisting of only one intramural site, Bede fills the space that Adls intentionally left blank. The addition of the Temple site, the pool of Bethesda, the spring of Siloam and the church of Holy Sion creates a significantly fuller image of the Holy City. Even so, Bede’s city, which is arranged as a directionally-coherent circuit, is neither cluttered nor randomly ordered. Secondly, Bdls’ Jerusalem is a dismantled city. While Adls’ Jerusalem is greater than the sum of its topographical parts, Bede effectively disassembles the principle elements that created the effect. The intramural status of Holy Sion is restored, and by placing the Temple with the other intramural sites, Bdls effaces Adls’ typology of the Temple as prologue. Stating that the city is round, Bede reshapes Adls’ implicit depiction of Jerusalem as a foursquare city. Adls’ construct of New Jerusalem has been comprehensively dismantled. Third, just as Bdls is a theological text, Bede’s Jerusalem a theological city. The typological importance of Mt Sion is established, which includes the image of Holy Sion as the apostolic mother church. The text’s twofold reference to Golgotha emphasizes the site as the place of salvation, and fulsome descriptions of the tomb of Christ and the place of the Ascension secure their standing as the text’s two holiest sites. The component parts of Bede’s Jerusalem do not equal Adls’ exceptional image of the Holy City; yet, each place tells part of a narrative. That narrative is the story of salvation, and the places comprise the city of God.  Bede’s Jerusalem stands witness as the Christian city par excellence. While Mt Sion is the organizational principle of Bede’s Jerusalem, his depiction of the sacred mountain contains the variants of his two principal sources. Bede includes the image of Sion as citadel and perches Mt Sion inside the city’s southern walls. He omits Eucherius’ reference to Jerusalem as ascending from all directions in favour of Adomnán’s description of the slopes of Mt Sion as descending all the way to the city’s northern and eastern walls, which conflates the intramural terrain while implying that the Temple and the Holy Sepulchre were respectively located on Sion’s nether slopes. He consequently disputes the assumptions. Following Eucherius, Bede explicitly states that the Holy Sepulchre was outside the area of Holy Sion, a point that agrees with his historical presentation of the city: Mt Sion and the Holy Sepulchre

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were separate districts within the intramural city. With respect to the Temple, Bede adds the independent detail that it had been joined to the city by means of a bridge.116 The statement implicitly recognizes the Tyropoeon Valley, while the ‘city’ to which the bridge is attached was on the Western Hill. While Bede’s Mt Sion did not comprise the entirety of intramural Jerusalem, contra Eucherius, he extends the mountain beyond the southern wall, considering the extramural sites of Aceldama and the tree of Judas as part of Sion. Bede’s depiction of Mt Sion is further confused by his reference to the city’s twofold expansion: original Jerusalem, 1) the incorporation of Mt Sion and 2) Hadrian’s inclusion of the holy sites. It is not exactly clear how Bede understood the historical distinction between Jerusalem and Mt Sion in terms of physical topography.117 However, in light of the historical expansions mentioned in the text, Jerusalem and Mt Sion were not the same, Mt Sion and the Holy Sepulchre were not the same, and the Temple was probably not on Mt Sion.118 We now turn to Bede’s mental map of Jerusalem, which is similar in many ways to that of Eucherius.119 The image of a circular city governs the text. We can likewise depict the three principal gates of Jerusalem, located on the west, north, and east sides of the city. The interior of the circle includes three distinct areas, Mt Sion (south), the lower city (east) and the area of the Holy Sepulchre (in the middle of the circle), which correspond to the three historical districts if we equate pre-Sion Jerusalem with the lower city. Bdls 2.5. It is important to reemphasize that while Eucherius’ incorporation of Mt Sion refers to Eudocia’s fifth-century restoration of the city walls, Bede presumes that it took place prior to the New Testament period and before Hadrian’s expansion of the city. As the commemorations associated with Mt Sion are New Testament sites – Holy Sion, Aceldama and the spring of Siloam (cf. Lk 13:4; Jn 9:7, 11) – there is reason to believe that Bede considered the Temple–lower city as part of pre-Sion Jerusalem. On the other hand, Bede’s threefold division cannot be reconciled scripturally unless he understands the incorporation of Mt Sion to refer to David’s conquest of Jerusalem, or the stronghold of Sion; cf. 2 Sam 5:7 and 1 Chr 11:5. Also see 1 Kgs 8:1 and 2 Chr 5:2. 118 Bede’s elaboration of Jerusalem’s historical development primarily serves as an explication of the intramural position of the Holy Sepulchre. Nonetheless, the three historically-distinct intramural districts (Bede’s elaboration of Eucherius), the depiction of intramural Jerusalem as the reclined slopes of Mt Sion (Adomnán’s elaboration of Eucherius followed by Bede), the explicit exclusion of the Holy Sepulchre from Mt Sion (Bede’s use of Eucherius) and the Temple bridge (Bede’s use of an independent source) are respectively at odds. 119 Cf. figs 6 and 10. The two-dimensional image of Bede’s mental map does not depict the slopes of Mt Sion extending to the northern and eastern walls of the city. 116

117

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In terms of the intramural sites, the Holy Sepulchre, containing the Martyrium, Golgotha and the Anastasis, can be placed in the centre of the circle. A corridor connects the North Gate with the eastern side of the Holy Sepulchre. The Temple, in the lower city, was near the city’s eastern wall. Since its relationship with the East Gate is unknown, it is best to represent the Temple and the East Gate on the same east–west axis. The pool of Bethesda can be placed to the north of the Temple, corresponding to its actual location. The spring of Siloam is in the south-eastern area of Jerusalem–Mt Sion, while Holy Sion is in the centre of Mt Sion. The column of the Miraculous Healing is placed at the northeast end of the Holy Sepulchre near the cardo. The tree of Judas and Aceldama are located in the southern, extramural area of Mt Sion. Separated from the city by the transitional marker of Bdls 5.1, the Jehoshaphat Valley and the Mt of Olives are respectively east of the city. Four tombs, including the tomb of Mary, are in the valley; the church of the Ascension, the tomb of Lazarus (Bethany) and the Eleona are appropriately located on the Mt of Olives.

A Final Assessment of Bede In assessing Bdls, two points warrant particular emphasis. First of all, Bede fundamentally adheres to the ‘writings of the ancients’; he follows Eucherius more than he departs from Adomnán. The claims of O’Loughlin and other scholars regarding patristic authority, which the study challenges with respect to Adomnán, perfectly describe Bede’s approach to the sources. Bede’s devotion to ancient texts (Eucherius) over the recent masters (Adomnán) is unquestioned. Secondly, notwithstanding the complications of Mt Sion, Bede demonstrates a meticulous awareness of topographical details and spatial orientation. Bede’s bidirectional synthesis of the Holy Sepulchre material is superb. He moves the Ep. Faust. 10 transition forward in order to tighten an Eucheriusbased understanding of Mt Sion as proper Jerusalem, while he flips the altar of Abraham–Lord’s chalice sequence based upon his reading of Adomnán’s plan of the Holy Sepulchre. We have yet to fully consider a curious, if speculative, set of questions. To what degree did Bede recognize Adls’ construct of New Jerusalem and the eschatological resonance of the image? Had Bede been conscious of it, would he have considered it something worth keeping? Does Bdls express the unintentional consequences of Bede’s redactions, or was he aware of Adls’ image of New Jerusalem but effaced it either

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in deference to Eucherius – he could not replicate Adls’ image and follow Eucherius’ template at the same time – or due to a commitment to sacred topography, as he could not shore up the distortions of Adls without deconstructing its presentation of intramural Jerusalem? To the point, how could Bede credibly promulgate sacred topography if elements were known to be inaccurate or missing? Bede’s deconstruction of Adls’ New Jerusalem was an inevitable, collateral consequence. Yet, questions remain regarding the clarity of Adls’ construct of New Jerusalem and Bede’s perception of it. We cannot presume that Bede fully comprehended the image, and the fact that aspects of Adls’ account of the Holy City have gone unnoticed by modern scholars provides Bede with a good defence. What are the elements in Adls that may be open to interpretation? Is it clear that Adls treats the Temple as prologue? How puzzled would Bede have been by Adomnán’s deviations from Eucherius, including Adls’ extramural relegation of Mt Sion and its omission of the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam? Although Bede recognized Adomnán as learned in Scripture, he knew that the abbot had been less than deferential to the ancient writings. Bede’s awareness that Adomnán had diverged from Eucherius may have partially motivated Bede to correct Adomnán through the use of the same text. Bede understood that Adls’ column was in the physical proximity of Golgotha, so if he did not fully grasp the Holy Sepulchre-as-New Jerusalem image of Adls, the two cloth relics are once again the likely culprit. Bede presumably thought the relics were inside the city walls, and he must have leaned towards the Holy Sepulchre. If their locations had been clearly known, Bede would have undoubtedly left the relics ‘in place’, incorporating them into Bdls 2. Yet, the ambiguity of Adls ultimately caused Bede to treat the relics as a separate, relegated chapter, and, in the end, the onus is on Adls for its lack of clarity. For all of its brilliance, Adls lets itself down by not connecting the final dots. The image of Jerusalem so imaginatively envisioned by the collaborative efforts of Arculf and Adomnán was not expressed in such a way that the eighth-century churchman could easily perceive it. We return now to the questions raised at the outset of the chapter. Is Bdls an epitome of Adls? Did Bede write Bdls as an homage to Adomnán? The argument rests upon three basic points – 1) the overwhelming majority of Bdls’ contents come from Adls, 2) the material is abridged and 3) Bede’s praise of Adomnán. Bede describes the abbot as ‘an expert on the Scriptures’, who was the author of ‘a very beautiful narrative’ writ-

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ten in ‘admirable style’.120 On the other hand, neither Eucherius nor Ep. Faust. are ever mentioned. Bede appears to champion Bdls as a revision of Adls. Upon closer examination, however, Bede’s tribute to Adomnán is significantly qualified. In the preface, ‘the writings of the ancients’ is listed prior to the ‘parchments of more recent masters’. At the conclusion of Bdls, the ancient texts are held up as the measure to which Adls has been compared. The praise of Adomnán is circumscribed, raising suspicions regarding Bede’s relationship to the Iona material. Two points are determinative in the final assessment of Bdls. First of all, Bdls fails to capture the essence of Adls, its apparent prototype. In terms of image and structure, Adls and Bdls are significantly at odds. More decisively, Eucherius, not Adls, is the authoritative source behind Bdls, and we misread Bede’s dismantling of New Jerusalem if we fail to realize that Bede has been following Eucherius all along. Bdls is less of an epitome of Adls than it is an elaboration of Eucherius. The text is an original composition integrating the contents of Adomnán into the organizational structure and conceptual imagery of Eucherius. The evidence suggests that Bdls was intended as a replacement for both texts. Given how Bede corrects, supplements and rearranges Adls as well as his fundamental deference to Eucherius, there is little doubt that Bdls was meant as a substitute for Adomnán’s text.121 His reworking of Eucherius made the fifth-century text obsolete as well. The Jerusalem material that Eucherius captures in a single page, Adls covers in approximately fourteen. That Bdls consequently devotes the equivalent of seven pages to the Holy City leads to the overlooked point that Bede significantly improves upon Eucherius. Bede’s intention in writing Bdls was to produce an original work that would significantly ameliorate and, subsequently, replace his two principal sources. Does Bdls actually improve upon Adls? Is it possible that, for all of his efforts, Bede produced a work that was less satisfying than the Iona version? Insomuch as Bede composed a trimmer yet more comprehensive description of Jerusalem, he successfully accomplished his task, providing the Latin church with a better textbook on sacred topography. In terms of theological vision, religious imagination and eschatological resonance, Bede’s De locis sanctis is a diminished version of Adomnán’s work. Bdls 19.4, 5. The findings of the study discount O’Loughlin’s depiction of a discipulus– magister relationship between Bede and Adomnán and the contention that Bdls was written as a direct homage to Adomnán. See TOL (2007), 193-97. The study does not extrapolate further on Bede’s views of Adomnán outside of his redactions to Adls. 120 121

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CHAPTER 6 CONCLUSION

6.1. The Study’s Emphases The study has analyzed the Jerusalem material in three related texts respectively composed by Eucherius, Adomnán and Bede.1 In doing so, the book has looked at the genre to which they belong, the Jerusalem pilgrim texts, recognizing their fundamental interest in commemorative topography. The topographical contents of the texts require a topographical approach, and the study has detailed a thorough methodology for working with the sources that has produced four general results. First of all, the methodology has been instrumental in verifying the locations and identities of individual holy sites as we have seen with respect to the column of the Miraculous Healing. Secondly, the approach has identified the irregularities of the texts, such as Adls’ distortion of Holy Sion and its omission of the pool of Bethesda. Third, it has revealed the interplay between topography and theology; recovering Adls’ New Jerusalem imagery required a topographical approach. Fourth, the methodology has informed the provenance of the study’s source material: it has confirmed the seventh-century milieu of Adls’ topographical contents, which, in turn, affirms the role of Arculf as Adomnán’s primary source. Though grounded in the historical topography of Jerusalem, the study has ultimately focused the texts. What did the texts communicate to a reader who had no knowledge Jerusalem, save for a scriptural understanding of the Holy City? One of the challenges of the study has been knowing when the real topography of Jerusalem informs the texts and See tables 1-10; figs 1-11.

1

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Conclusion

when they should be read unencumbered by the topographical facts. In emphasizing a topography-to-text approach, the study has let the texts speak on their own.

6.2. The Study’s Findings The Christian Topography of Early Islamic Jerusalem Although the study has focused more on what the Holy Land tells us about the texts than in what the texts tell us about the Holy Land, a brief summary of the Christian topography of Early Islamic Jerusalem is in order. The Holy Sepulchre was the primary holy site of the city. While its three main areas were the Martyrium (the basilica of Constantine), Golgotha (Calvary) and the Anastasis housing the tomb of Christ, the complex had a number of relics and secondary stations mostly associated with Jesus’ passion, including the altar of Abraham, the tomb of Adam and the centre of the world. The legend of the Holy Cross was expressed by a monument near the eastern entrance of the complex. The Christian topography of post-Byzantine Jerusalem had a secondary emphasis on Mary. The Annunciation, Mary’s presence at the crucifixion and the icon of the Theotokos related to the story of Mary the Egyptian were commemorative elements of the Holy Sepulchre; three locations in the city, Holy Sion, the Jephonias monument and Mary’s tomb, remembered the end of her life. Holy Sion, recognized as the church of the Apostles, was the setting of the Lord’s Supper and Pentecost and possessed the column of Jesus’ scourging, the crown of thorns and the stones of Stephen’s martyrdom. One of the most salient features of post-Byzantine Jerusalem was the church of the Ascension on the Mt of Olives, which culminated the pilgrim circuit of the Holy City. The circuit established the standard course of pilgrim movement through the city and gave primary status to the stations located along its route. The pool of Bethesda remained an important intramural site in the first half of the Early Islamic period despite suffering siltation since the Byzantine period. Likewise, the Eleona, Gethsemane and Jesus’ trial were key elements of the Christian topography throughout the period. Sites off the circuit, such as Aceldama and the tombs of the Jehoshaphat Valley, formed a secondary tier of holy sites.

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Conclusion

Arculf We do not know the actual substance of Arculf ’s report nor the contents of Adomnán’s notes. However, the affirmation of Arculf is much easier than the logical difficulty of disproving his existence, and the study has approached Adls’ presentation of Arculf with a hermeneutic of credibility. The study’s position on Arculf would be unremarkable if not for the scholarly doubts concerning his authenticity. Even so, the corroboration of post-Byzantine sources, along with the internal witness of the text, securely establish Arculf as Adomnán’s primary source, a genuine figure, who functions as pilgrim guide and dialogue partner throughout the text. His report contains a few imperfections and manipulations, but its observational detail is superb, establishing Adls as the most fulsome Christian pilgrim text of the Early Islamic period. Arculf lives, breathes and acts the role of pilgrim. He frequents the holy places, carefully observes their physical surroundings, performs various pilgrim practices and demonstrates an interest in liturgy, scripture and eschatology. As a conduit of Jerusalem tradition, Arculf significantly influenced the contents, structure and imagery of Adls.

Eucherius The study also builds upon Ep. Faust., Eucherius’ fifth-century description of Jerusalem. According to Eucherius, the circular city rises from all directions. By depicting Jerusalem as a single mountain, Eucherius conflates the Western and Eastern hills into a single entity, while ignoring the Tyropoeon Valley, a distortion that is embellished by Adomnán and utilized by Bede. While it is unclear whether Eucherius fully equates the cone-shaped mountain with Mt Sion, Mt Sion functions as the topographical centrepiece and organizational construct for Eucherius’ account of the Holy City. The image of Jerusalem ascending from all directions seems to envision the lower city, including the Temple, as part of the lower eastern slopes of Mt Sion. On the other hand, Eucherius notes a historical expansion of the city that distinguishes between Mt Sion and Jerusalem, while Mt Sion is a district of intramural Jerusalem explicitly distinct from the Holy Sepulchre. The complexities of Mt Sion introduced by Eucherius pertain to Adomnán and Bede as well. Namely, what are the relationships between Mt Sion, Jerusalem and the intramural city in each of the three texts? With respect to the specific holy places in Ep. Faust., Holy Sion, the Holy Sepulchre, the ruined Temple, the pool of Bethesda and the spring

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Conclusion

of Siloam comprise the intramural sites within a circular city, while the extramural areas of the Jehoshaphat Valley and the Mt of Olives round out the text’s account of Jerusalem. Of note is a brief transitional phrase describing the countryside around Jerusalem that precedes the Mt of Olives material. While the study has focused on the very different approaches that Adomnán and Bede take in their use of the fifth-century text, perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Ep. Faust. is the dual role that it plays in Bede as a direct source and as a text partially transmitted to him via Adls.

Adomnán’s De locis sanctis Through the corroboration of post-Byzantine sources, the study has verified the seventh-century milieu of Adls, validating Arculf as Adls’ primary source.2 By contrast, the non-Arculf material plays an minor and inconsequential role in Book 1. Along with a few one-off references, the use of Eucherius in the prologue and Sulpicius Severus’ description of the footprints of Christ are the main interpolations from the abbot’s library. Adomnán’s most original contribution is his exegesis of the Apocalyptic Discourse. The minor role of the non-Arculf material is indicated by the abbot’s statement that ‘the disposition of the city from other authors’ will be largely omitted.3 Adomnán faithfully records, dutifully develops and occasionally supplements Arculf ’s ‘trustworthy and reliable account’ of the Holy City.4 Scholarly confusion over Adls has been due, in part, to the inaccurate and uncertain identifications of its intramural sites. This has resulted from a twofold failure to properly analyze the material with post-Byzantine sources and to attend to the internal clues within the text. Establishing the Holy Sepulchre provenance of Adls 1.2-11 has been the study’s initial task. Once the pieces were in place, Adls’ depiction of the Holy City as New Jerusalem and its rich resonance with Revelation 21 are clearly evident. The Temple is past prologue; Jerusalem is a templeless city, while the Holy Sepulchre is the throne of the Christ, the Lamb of God. Perpetually-burning lamps and the lack of a solstice shadow por2 Also see appendices 1 and 2. The study disputes the position espoused in TOL (2007), 73-74 and likewise expressed in Limor (2004), 264 that Arculf was ‘merely a transient eyewitness who corroborated [the authoritative] information’ of the patristic sources. The study has demonstrated Adomnán’s preference for Arculf over Eucherius. 3 Adls 1.1.1. 4 Adls preface.

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Conclusion

tend the redundancy of the sun and moon. Arculf measures the tomb of Christ à la the angelic messenger. Both texts highlight the numbers three and twelve, while the miraculous rains of Adls forbid anything unclean from remaining in the city. New Jerusalem was a central construct of the Christian imagination, and the ideas fit comfortably with the theological milieu of Iona. However, Adls’ New Jerusalem is not an eschatological vision simply based upon Scripture. Rather, the text exhibits an intricate interplay between eschatological imagery and the seventh-century topography of Jerusalem. While the Iona abbot may have enhanced the image, its impetus almost certainly lay with the Jerusalem pilgrim. The extramural relegation of Holy Sion was presumably based upon the remnant of the late Roman southern wall; its visible ruins continued to partition – both physically and mentally – the apostolic church from the ‘new’ Jerusalem area of the Holy Sepulchre throughout most of the Early Islamic period.5 To acknowledge Arculf as the catalyst behind the Holy Sepulchre-as-New Jerusalem image is to recognize the influence of the city’s contemporary topography and the role of Jerusalem tradition in shaping the text. The execution of the image, which involved omitting the pool of Bethesda and moving the Temple to prologue, was a collaborative effort between Arculf and Adomnán. The final composition of the text was ultimately in the hands of the abbot.

Bede’s De locis sanctis While Adomnán was able to interrogate an eyewitness sources, Bdls is truly a book of books.6 The distinction can be sensed in the texts. Adls Book 1 reads as if Adomnán is essentially going along with his oral source to which occasional interpolations have been added, while Bede is overly attentive to topographical detail and spatial orientation, carefully weighing his sources in terms of substance and structure. Whereas the primary compositional task of Adomnán was to faithfully capture the sites, stories and theological images discussed by Arculf, Bede’s chore was the logical integration and (re)arrangement of textual material, and, in many ways, Bdls is a more considered text. Adls breathes more richly of the pilgrim experience; its relationship to the holy sites 5 The Madaba Map depicts a gate between the two churches, while Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 89 shows the former southern wall with some prominence on its map of Early Islamic Jerusalem. 6 See the study’s main summary of Bdls in ch. 5.6.

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Conclusion

is more direct, while the intimacy of Adls is fostered by Arculf ’s role as pilgrim guide. Bede’s work is a step removed from the Holy Land. Yet, since his principal sources are extant, we have significantly more access to the redactional mind of Bede. Bdls offers a straightforward account of the Holy City, which is pedestrian, in many ways, to the exceptionality of Adls. More concisely, Bdls is a faithful elaboration of Eucherius. Bede’s work begins with an introductory survey of Jerusalem’s historical topography, establishing the physical centrality of Mt Sion and the historical expansions of the city. Bdls 2 turns to the intramural sites of the city, focusing on the Holy Sepulchre before describing the Temple site, the pool of Bethesda, the spring of Siloam, the church of Holy Sion and ending with the column of the Miraculous Healing at the centre of the world, reemphasizing the role of Golgotha as the place of salvation. The chapter is noteworthy for its bidirectional survey of the Holy Sepulchre and the geographical coherence of its intramural circuit, which begins and ends at the eastern entrance of the Holy Sepulchre. Taking clues from Eucherius, Bede structures his account of Jerusalem around the construct of Mt Sion. Following the discussion of the intramural sites in Bdls 2, Bdls 3, the short chapter detailing the extramural sites of Mt Sion, is treated as Jerusalem material. Consequently, Bdls 4, the chapter on the cloth relics, which initially seems out of sequence, has been placed at the end of Bede’s account of ‘proper Jerusalem’. The text initiates its move away from the Holy City by introducing an overview of the Promised Land, Bdls 5.1, which functions as a significant transition in the text. The sites of the Jehoshaphat Valley and the Mt of Olives conclude the material corresponding to Adls Book 1. Adls’ account of the grotto of Gethsemane, which does not contain any scripturally-based material, is deleted by Bede, apparently due to its failure to meet the standard of a ‘biblical site worth remembering’. Bede introduces distances beginning with the Mt of Olives, and Adomnán’s exegesis of the Apocalyptic Discourse is reduced to a single sentence regarding the commemorative significance of the Eleona. Bede’s omission of the grotto of Gethsemane, his redaction of the Eleona and his previous treatment of the baptism of Jerusalem are emblematic of Bede’s consistent focus on commemorative topography. Three additional points characterize Bede’s description of the Holy City. First of all, Bede shows a fundamental preference for Eucherius, which functions as the authoritative text behind Bdls 1-6. Secondly, by providing a more comprehensive account of intramural Jerusalem, Bede

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Conclusion

fundamentally dismantles Adls’ image of the Holy City as New Jerusalem. Bede’s lack of conviction concerning the location of the cloth relics suggests that he did not fully perceive Adls’ image of the city. In any case, Bede’s commitment to sacred topography prohibited him from replicating known errors and omissions. By fixing the line of the southern wall and including the pool of Bethesda and the spring of Siloam, Adls’ image of Jerusalem was effectively negated. Third, commemorative topography was an important expression of medieval theology, and while it lacks the religious imagination and theological acumen of Adls, Bdls is a sophisticated theological text. Given Bede’s adherence to Eucherius and his significant divergence from Adls, the premise of Bdls as an epitome of Adls cannot be sustained. Bdls is best regarded as an original text with a significant debt to the structure of Eucherius and the substance of Adls. As a significant elaboration of the former and a streamlined, though more comprehensive, manual of the latter, Bede’s treatise on the commemorative topography of the Holy Land was written to replace both of his principal sources. Whether Bede actually improved upon Adls depends upon the question.

The Line of Transmission A central feature of the study has been the line of transmission from Arculf and Eucherius to Bede with Adls serving in the middle as both text and source. Bede uses Adls and departs from Adls, while principally following Eucherius. The three texts share details, replicate distortions and convey mutual images. They likewise diverge from their exemplars. With respect to the Holy Sepulchre, we have seen how Eucherius and Adomnán have been meticulously overhauled by Bede, who makes a bidirectional survey of the complex. While all three texts speak of the Temple in ruins, Eucherius, which treats the site as intramural material, refers to its former magnificence and the miraculous survival of its pinnacle. Adomnán moves the material to his prologue, mentions the Temple’s former magnificence and omits the pinnacle. He adds a description of the Saracen mosque. Bede, like Eucherius, treats the Temple as an intramural site, while removing the references to the Temple’s magnificence and its miraculous pinnacle. The mosque remains. Physical description, textual context and the role of the Saracens factor in the texts’ respective images of the Temple. While they each view the ruined Temple in terms of Christian prophecy, Adomnán’s treatment of the Temple as ‘past prologue’ is the most disparaging of the three accounts.

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Conclusion

The extramural transition of Ep. Faust. 10, which introduces the Mt of Olives as Eucherius’ initial move beyond Jerusalem, is elaborated upon by both Adomnán and Bede. Adomnán expands Eucherius’ reference to the countryside beyond Jerusalem to lands north and west of Jerusalem, while Bede extends the scope to include the entire length of the Promised Land. While the transition in Adls effectively underscores the band of land immediately adjacent to the city walls as a component part of its image of Jerusalem, Bede brings the material forward to buttress a Mt Sion-based depiction of the Holy City; the Jehoshaphat Valley follows, commencing Bede’s move beyond Jerusalem. The most complicated theme running through the texts is Mt Sion. The complexities and contradictions include the conflation of the Western and Eastern Hills, the omission of the Tyropoeon Valley, the historical expansions of the city and Mt Sion’s twofold function as an all-butsynonymous term for Jerusalem and as a specific district on the southern end of the city. Did the slopes of Sion include the entire intramural city? Were the Temple and the Holy Sepulchre located on Mt Sion, or did they belong to different districts of the city? While defining Sion is complicated by the contradictory concepts at work in the texts, each text incorporates elements of Mt Sion from its sources while casting an unique image of the sacred mountain. Sion, most significantly, is the primary typological and organizational construct for both Eucherius and Bede, The texts’ primary images of Jerusalem are easier to trace. While Eucherius depicts a circular city, an intramural Mt Sion and a collection of sites within the city walls, Adomnán relegates Sion, squares up the walls and focuses exclusively on the Holy Sepulchre. Bede adopts Eucherius’ image of Jerusalem, incorporates the additional sites of Adls and depicts Mt Sion, unlike Eucherius, as extending slightly south of the southern wall. Eucherius and Bede share a similar template of Jerusalem, while Adls’ image of the Holy City is most distinctive.

6.3. Further Research The study’s findings as well as its limitations suggest directions for future research. To begin with, the study has not examined its findings against the theological milieus of Adomnán and Bede. How do the interests of Adls, including commemorative topography, replacement theology and images of New Jerusalem, fit into the broader theological landscape of the early medieval Irish church? Does Adls’ presentation

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Conclusion

of the Holy City as New Jerusalem express the eschatological perspectives of Iona and the Irish church? Are the anti-Jewish elements of the text and its negative depiction of the Temple indicative of the theology of Iona?7 How does the theology of Iona compare with the theological traditions of Jerusalem? Likewise, the findings of Bdls need to be considered within the larger corpus of Bede’s writings, placing the interests of the text within the overall context of Bede’s work.8 The study should stimulate more research on the Jerusalem pilgrim texts, beginning with a topographical analysis of the non-Jerusalem material in Eucherius, Adomnán and Bede. An annotated edition of Adls that identifies the seventh-century topographical material, its corroborative sources, and the content and language derivative of Adomnán’s written sources is needed for both Insular and Jerusalem scholars.9 Furthering Wilkinson’s legacy, all of the pre-Crusader pilgrim texts need to be updated, laying out our current literary, topographical and archaeological understandings of the texts. The study’s topographical methodology provides a permanent framework for analyzing the pilgrim writings, including the Crusader sources not covered in the book.10 The study will hopefully chart a path for more work on the mental maps of theological texts. While the study explores the theme of religious imagination, it does not develop a theology of the sacred places based upon the pilgrim texts. Interest in the contemporary status of the holy sites captivated the medieval Christian in ways that belie a simple interest in exegesis. The findings suggest that Christians viewed the holy places in sacrament-like terms and that sacred topography functioned as a means of Christian revelation.

7 On New Jerusalem and the image of the Temple in Insular Christianity, see Herren and Brown (2002) and O’Brien (2015). Also see Nibley (1959-69) and the discussions of Temple theology in the works of Margaret Barker. 8 The findings of the study, which show that Bede’s redactions were consistency executed according to his stated interests in sacred topography, are at odds with the claim of TOL (2007), 199 that the four sites included in HE were chosen because ‘they contain information that could be used in the solution of exegetical conundrums’. 9 The challenge of such a work is that the source material of Adls cannot be fully determined on a line-by-line, let alone a word-by-word, basis due to the obscurity of Arculf ’s oral report, the existence of unidentified sources and the layering of literary language upon the wording of Arculf. 10 A number of Crusader texts appear in the bibliography; see JW (1988).

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APPENDIX 1 ADLS AND THE POST-BYZANTINE SOURCES

Table 1 presents in outline form independent, post-Byzantine evidence corroborating the topographical details of Adls Book 1.1 Whereas textual studies have identified sources that Adomnán actually possessed, Table 1 compares Adls with contemporary sources that he did not have. Excluding the gates, which are not considered, all of the holy sites and sacred objects of Book 1 are represented in Table 1 with the exception of the altar of Abraham and the tombs of the Jehoshaphat Valley.2 The extensive corroborations establish the post-Byzantine milieu of Adls’ Jerusalem material, underscoring Adls’ consistent testimony that its descriptions of the holy places are derived from a contemporary pilgrim source, namely, Arculf. In other words, the topographical details of Adls are the same as those seen and recorded by other post-Byzantine pilgrims. What it describes is neither odd nor digressive. Arculf not only saw what others saw; his discernment of the material – what was worthy of memory and what was not – is representative of post-Byzantine pilgrimage. A number of case studies have been examined in the study, including the monument of the Miraculous Healing, the mutual identity of Adls’ church of Mary’s Weaving and Epiphanius’ house of Joseph, and the Commemoratorium’s reference to the sudarium. The table highlights 1 The text of Sophronius (Anacr.), a seventh-century source written at the end of the Byzantine period and describing the Holy City a half century prior to Arculf ’s visit, is included in the table. 2 Though not mentioned in the post-Byzantine sources cited in the table, an Abrahamic commemoration has been associated with the Holy Sepulchre since the Byzantine period (cf. Itin. 19). Today, a large mosaic of Abraham’s binding of Isaac adorns the Franciscan chapel of Calvary, while the Greek Orthodox monastery of St Abraham’s Monastery is a stone’s throw away. On the tombs of the Jehoshaphat Valley, see It. Burg. 595; DSTS 9 and JW (2002), 312-13.

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Appendix 1

the texts’ common witness to the relics of the Holy Sepulchre, the stone before the tomb of Christ, the centre of the world and the importance of the Marian commemorations in the post-Byzantine period. One of the interesting similarities between Adls and Willibald, which is not mentioned elsewhere in the study, is their mutual reference to three cross in the eastern half of the Holy Sepulchre.3 While Willibald refers to three wooden crosses standing outside the basilica of Constantine, Adls’ plan of the Holy Sepulchre depicts three unexplained crosses within the area representing the basilica. Along with the Willibald text, Adls has substantial similarities with the sequence and substance of other sources, namely, Epiphanius. Table 1 does not exhaust the evidence. A number of common features, including the primary churches of Jerusalem, occur in virtually every text, while only a selection of post-Byzantine sources have been considered.4 The table has identified pairings based upon various considerations, citing references that contain common ground even if the details are not always a complete match. Arculf and Willibald respectively refer to a cross on top of the tomb of Christ; Arculf specifically states that it was made of gold. Both pilgrims were impressed by the lamps inside the tomb; Arculf counts twelve, while Willibald records fifteen. With respect to a structure surrounding the footsteps of Christ at the place of the Ascension, Arculf mentions a circular bronze railing, while Willibald describes a square brass object. The examples emphasize the nature of independent sources, which contain material that is often vague, incomplete and difficult to completely reconcile. Whether one sees corroborations in the texts or differences in the on-the-ground realities, contextual considerations (e.g., the VW was written fifty years after Willibald’s travels) and criteria, such as religious imagination, need to be properly weighed.5

Cf.  Adls’ plan of the Holy Sepulchre in JW (2002), 380-81 with VW 18. Cf. JW (2002), 402-04. 5 Adls includes at least one significant inaccuracy (i.e., the line of the southern wall) and two noteworthy omissions, the pool of Bethesda–nativity of Mary (cf. Hag.5 and VW 19; cf. It. Bern.13) and the Jephonias monument (cf. AG 6; Hag.24 and VW 20). A few minor omissions can also be identified. By the Early Islamic period, the spring of Siloam was not a primary site, but it was still visited by pilgrims; see It. Bern.16. Although Adls refers to the stone of Agony, the text does mention the place of Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane; cf. VW 21. The trial of Jesus, which was located on Mt Sion following the destruction of the church of Holy Wisdom, is likewise absent in Adls; cf. AG 5 and Hag. 7-9. 3 4

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APPENDIX 2 A REVIEW OF O’LOUGHLIN AND THE ARCULF DEBATE

The scholarly position doubting the authenticity of Arculf is most fully represented by the work of Thomas O’Loughlin.1 First publishing on Adls in 1992, O’Loughlin’s work has culminated in his 2007 monograph, Adomnán and the Holy Places.2 The ensuing critique addresses three related premises of O’Loughlin’s position: Adls as exegetical manual, Arculf as literary fiction and Adomnán as the start-to-finish composer of a book of books.

A2.1. The Scholarly Context of Adls O’Loughlin locates his research on Adls within the context of two scholarly debates relating respectively to the fields of Celtic studies and the history of Latin theology.3 The first debate concerns the quality of scholarship associated with the early Irish church. Until the mid-twentieth century, there was a consensus among scholars that while the island had produced great mystics, ascetics and missionaries, early Christian Ireland was not defined by the pursuit of theology. In other words, the While the following review specifically focuses on the research of O’Loughlin, it covers the larger debate on Arculf. On the debate preceding or independent of O’Loughlin, see TOL (2007), 42 and 266, nt. 3. For an example of O’Loughlin’s influence on the scholarly discourse, see Nees (2014), while a position critical of O’Loughlin’s silencing of Arculf is expressed in Limor (2004). 2 The following review concentrates on the 2007 study, which incorporates verbatim much of O’Loughlin’s previous research on Adls. A preliminary review of TOL (2007) appears in Aist (2008b). 3 Cf. TOL (2007), 8-12. 1

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Appendix 2

‘island of saints and scholars’ was more saintly than scholarly. Within this debate, ‘Arculf ’s travels’ was not recognized as a work of theology. Against this view, O’Loughlin has argued that Adls is a significant exegetical text of pre-Carolingian Ireland. The second debate is the relationship between pre-Carolingian Ireland and the mainstream Latin church summed up by the idea that ‘Ireland was odd’.4 O’Loughlin argues that Adls could have been written anywhere in the Latin West as evidenced by its subsequent popularity within the Western Church. A further dichotomy frames O’Loughlin’s reading of Adls. On one hand, Adomnán was a product of a Latin theological inheritance. Adomnán consciously wrote within the Western church tradition of Jerome, Augustine, Eucherius and Isidore. His library was full of their texts.5 His scholarship was formed by their ideas and methods, and he was deferential to their authority. Yet, within this tradition, Adomnán was a scholar of significant capacity. Bede considered Adomnán to be a uir bonus et sapiens et scientia scripturarum nobilisse instructus,6 and the abbot was recognized throughout the middle ages as a uir illustris.7 Adomnán was ‘a most competent and searching scriptural scholar, keenly attuned to textual problems, and ingenious in his solutions’.8 Conspicuously absent from O’Loughlin’s discussion of his research is the field of Holy Land studies. For all of his expertise on Western Christianity and the early Irish Church, O’Loughlin’s research pays insufficient attention to the Jerusalem concerns of the text. Despite his discussion of genre, O’Loughlin overlooks the chief interest of Adls and the corpus of pilgrim texts to which it belongs: the details of commemorative topography. Adls is a topographical text requiring a topographical approach; yet, O’Loughlin fails to employ a proper methodology. Most critically, he never compares Adls to other contemporary pilgrim texts, such as AG, Epiphanius and the VW, which confirm the post-Byzantine provenance of Adomnán’s material, expose the key distortions and principal images of Adls, and affirm insights into the authenticity of Arculf and the larger phenomenon of Holy Land pilgrimage. By not recognizing the topographical elements and distortions of the text, O’Loughlin 4 Cf. TOL (2007), 11. O’Loughlin sees this bias in the idea that Bede rescued Adls for posterity by turning Adomnán’s text, written in a ‘curious Irish style’, into something more useful for a wider readership. 5 Cf. TOL (2012); (2007), 246-47 and (1994b). 6 Discussed in TOL (2007), 52. 7 Cf. TOL (1994) and (2007), 198-203. 8 TOL (2007), 51.

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Appendix 2

misses the central image of Book 1: the Holy City as a manifestation of New Jerusalem. More generally, O’Loughlin disregards the role of Jerusalem tradition – the legends, ideas and images that emanated from the Holy Land via the agency of returning pilgrims – while his working knowledge of the city often lets him down. Mirroring Adomnán, O’Loughlin’s research reflects the concerns of a scholar writing remotely from the Holy City. The ‘view from Iona’ offers some unique insights; yet, the perspective is inadequate for making comprehensive claims of the text. Whereas Adomnán’s success was secured by his embrace of Arculf, O’Loughlin’s dismissal of Arculf represents a disregard of Jerusalem-related issues that undermines his research.

A2.2. Augustine’s De doctrina christiana O’Loughlin first examined Adls for ‘echoes of patristic exegetical problems’, a focus that has continued to define his research on the text.9 Scriptures were at the heart of Iona’s monastic life, and Adls is ‘a product of, and a witness to, this central concern’ of Scripture.10 Its specific purpose, according to O’Loughlin, was ‘to supply a much-needed work of reference in scriptural exegesis’.11 To elucidate the point, O’Loughlin establishes how Scripture was viewed in seventh-century Iona. Adomnán lived in an age after Jerome and Augustine in which the Latin Church regarded Scripture as inerrant; it was the ‘bearer of divine truth, and wholly inspired’.12 On one hand, the confusions of the holy text were clearly recognized; on the other hand, there could never be a mistake in God’s revealed Word. If an error was found, then the text was faulty, the translation was incorrect or one’s understanding was deficient. Consequently, it was believed that the perceived problems of Scripture could be reconciled.13 The most important work in setting the intellectual agenda of the era – and the text that O’Loughlin views as the inspiration behind Adls – was Augustine’s De doctrina christiana.14 In placing the biblical text at TOL (2007), xiii. TOL (2007), 65. 11 TOL (2007), 7. 12 TOL (2007), 14. 13 Cf. TOL (2007), 99. 14 Cf. TOL (2007), 28-29. 9

10

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Appendix 2

the heart of Christian education, Augustine identifies the need for reference works to explain matters of Scripture that could only be known from factual experience.15 While some interpretative texts were already available, Augustine hoped that additional works, beginning with an explanation of unfamiliar biblical places, would soon be produced. To interpret Scripture accurately, ‘everything written about the location of places (quaecumque de locorum situ) and the nature of animals, trees, plants, minerals and other bodies’ related to the biblical texts had to be understood.16 A capable writer ‘would render a truly beneficial service to the advantage of the brethren’.17 Although there is no conclusive evidence that Adomnán actually had access to De doctrina christiana, O’Loughlin interprets Adls in light of Augustine’s challenge. While Augustine purportedly provided the inspiration to write an exegetical manual, O’Loughlin identifies one text, Eucherius’ Ep. Faust. (De situ Hierusolymae), and suggests another, Jerome’s Ep. 108, as templates for the treatise. Giving Adomnán a geographically-arranged presentation of Jerusalem and the Holy Land, Eucherius made ‘references to the buildings of Jerusalem, their relationship to one another, the city’s general landscape, and its topographical relationship to other places such as Mt Sion and Golgotha’ from which ‘an outline list of all the important buildings could be compiled, and when used with the other manuals, a list of the related problems that needed to be addressed by an exegete could be produced’.18 Ep. Faust. also made use of multiple sources. Adomnán ‘would have seen what it was possible to do by linking all the details from the various references in the Scriptures to a building or a place, and combining that with what is found in [Eusebius’s] Onomasticon and in other authors such as Jerome and Hegesippus’.19 For O’Loughlin, Ep. Faust. was a direct prototype that ‘probably inspired’ Adomnán’s development of Adls.20

Cf.  Ddc 2.29.45. TOL (2007), 29. 17 TOL (2007), 30; Ddc 2.39.59. 18 TOL (2007), 45. 19 TOL (2007), 47. 20 TOL (2007), 26 and 47. Jerusalem as starting point and the use of supplemental sources are the main similarities between the two texts. The central problem with the argument is that Adls significantly departs from the structure, contents and images of Eucherius. The Eucherius text was an important source; yet, its influence as a prototype was limited. See ch. 4.4, ‘Adomnán’s Use of Eucherius’. 15

16

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O’Loughlin speculates that Adomnán may have had access to Jerome’s Ep. 108, an encomium of Paula written soon after her death in 404. Jerome uses Paula’s movements through the Holy Land ‘to draw attention to the unique role of these places within the whole history of salvation’; the letter ‘showed how a Christology could be written where the junctions between its various elements were places rather than logical steps within an argument’.21 According to O’Loughlin, Ep. 108 and Adls both ‘use the device of a traveller visiting place after place to create a network upon which each author hangs his scriptural concerns. In the process, Adls has no closer exemplar within the tradition of Christian Latin writing than Jerome’s letter’.22 In short, Adomnán, working within the milieu of the seventh-century Latin Church, had a paramount interest in Scripture. Augustine, who had identified the need for exegetical resources, was Adomnán’s inspirational guide, while Eucherius’ Ep. Faust. and, perhaps, Jerome’s Ep. 108 provided templates for the task. Scripture, together with the patristic writings contained in the library of Iona, sourced the contents of Adomnán’s work. While O’Loughlin has created a compelling context, a few points are worth noting. First, O’Loughlin envisions a scenario that is focused upon Adomnán’s literary world. Reading Augustine (a text) rather than encountering Arculf (a traveller) is Adomnán’s starting point.23 While Adls is viewed as a discourse between Adomnán and his literary sources, the role of Arculf is summarily ignored. Secondly, as O’Loughlin concedes, there is no direct evidence that Adomnán actually knew Augustine’s De doctrina christiana. His argument, supported by the presence of other Augustinian works on Iona, is based upon the fit that O’Loughlin sees between Augustine’s call for an exegetical manual and the essential purpose that Adls purportedly fulfils. Given similar uncertainties regarding Adomnán’s access to Jerome’s Ep. 108, O’Loughlin hangs his argument upon rather speculative pegs. Yet, to the point, if De doctrina christiana’s call for an exegetical manual was Adomnán’s principal inspiration, it is unlikely that Adls would have followed the implicit movements of a specified pilgrim or have recorded the details

Cf. TOL (2007), 24-25. TOL (2007), 25. The argument for Adomnán’s access to Ep. 108 is unconvincing as there is no evidence of its influence on the contents or structure of Adls. 23 Cf. TOL (2007), 44: the ‘fundamental cause of [Adls] is not Arculf ’. 21

22

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Appendix 2

of commemorative topography.24 The idea that Adomnán created an exegetical manual fashioned upon the template of a pilgrim text is unconvincing. The reverse, though, is the true: Adls is a pilgrim text expressing certain exegetical concerns.

A2.3. The Need for an Expert Eyewitness O’Loughlin’s appeal to Augustine goes one step further. While some aenigma could be worked out in the scholar’s study, a significant amount of scriptural confusions could only be resolved by direct knowledge of the biblical setting.25 Flagging the need for firsthand information, Augustine argued that geography was dependent upon facts acquired through individual experience.26 Geographical knowledge was the result of sensory perception: ‘one must see, touch, taste, walk around, measure, note colours, shapes and characteristics: without this experience, one does not have the data by which the Scriptures can be fully understood’.27 This knowledge could be as simple as knowing the location of places and the meaning of place names: ‘that a specific place is located here and not there, and it is called by a certain name, are not pieces of information that can be known or understood without factual, experiential knowledge’.28 The location of a biblical tomb could be readily solved by seeing the actual grave. In short, someone writing a manual on exegetical geography ‘must have someone to carry out the fieldwork, someone who actually knows Palestine from the firsthand experience of being there so that they can answer the questions that arise in the exegesis with historica cognito’.29 Precisely ‘a traveller such as Arculf would be in the land of the holy places and there become an expert in that topographical knowledge that would be of benefit to Christians in their quest to understand their Scriptures’.30 24 O’Loughlin’s argument for the influence of Ddc is compelling if applied to Adomnán’s approach to a genuine pilgrim report; it fails, however, to adequately explain the form and contents of Adls if Adomnán was writing ‘from scratch’. 25 Cf. TOL (2007), 29. 26 Cf. TOL (2007), 55. 27 TOL (2007), 56. The statement likewise describes the activity of pilgrimage, which, above all, was a sensuous and observational experience. 28 TOL (2007), 55. 29 TOL (2007), 56. 30 TOL (2007), 18.

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Appendix 2

The purpose of Augustine’s eyewitness expert was to gather unknowable facts and validate empirical information. Yet, according to O’Loughlin, a contemporary source held relatively little influence in Adomnán’s religious world, which contained three levels of authority.31 The supreme authority was Scripture. The second level was the tradition of the patristic writers. Their positions were sometimes confused and contradictory; their teachings were partial and contained errors. Their authority, though, was greater than that of any living person. The third level of authority, ‘the living voice of teachers’, was the domain of contemporary church leaders, such as Adomnán and Arculf, who respected what they found in the works of their predecessors and did not presume to correct them.32 An eyewitness expert must be considered in this context – not in terms of an authority vis-à-vis the tradition but as one possessing valued knowledge of the Holy Land. A person of third-tier authority, such as Arculf, could only confirm and clarify what Adomnán had read in the patristic texts; a living person could neither usurp the authority of Scripture nor impugn the works of the Fathers. O’Loughlin has primed Arculf for the role of Adomnán’s expert eyewitness, one who had returned from time spent in the Holy Land with the firsthand facts necessary to supply an exegetical manual. Yet, it is precisely at this point that O’Loughlin fails to adhere to his own argument. Having augured for Arculf ’s vital contributions, O’Loughlin takes the position that Arculf is a literary fiction, a fragmented set of sources.33 Adls, instead, is a book of books, a product of the Iona library:

Cf. TOL (2007), 61-62. Cf. TOL (2007), 73. 33 See, for instance, TOL (2007), 63. O’Loughlin’s concept of Arculf as literary fiction may be open to interpretation. Yet, the claim is made as part of an argument that consistently undermines the Arculf material, questions the source’s veracity and existential integrity, and creates a dichotomy between Arculf as expert eyewitness and Arculf as literary fiction. O’Loughlin’s position, which champions the cause of the Iona library and the scholarship of Adomnán, ignores the implications of Arculf ’s role as contemporary eyewitness upon the creation of the text. That is, if Adomnán is dependent upon the firsthand information of Arculf in order to compose the treatise, the bishop made significant contributions to Adls. However, O’Loughlin rejects the authenticity of Arculf, who is presented as a fragmented set of sources, while Adomnán’s empirical facts were primarily contained in the Iona library. O’Loughlin’s position ultimately implies that Adomnán created a fictive Arculf to convey to the reader the sense of a contemporary eyewitness. While O’Loughlin’s argument raises far more questions than answers, the study accepts the point that Arculf functions as the text’s expert eyewitness. 31

32

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Appendix 2

‘there is very little material [in Adls] that cannot be located within the sources [Adomnán] had at his disposal on Iona’.34 O’Loughlin argues that Arculf is a literary fiction despite the fact that Adomnán mentions the bishop eighty-six times in the text.35 Why does Adls cite Arculf so frequently, and upon what basis should we dismiss the reading of the text? Why does O’Loughlin interpret Adomnán’s use of Arculf in terms of De doctrina cristiana, which calls for firsthand knowledge of biblical places, only to subterfuge his argument and deny Arculf ’s existence? While the questions remain, O’Loughlin detects a suspicious overuse of Arculf that leads him to conclude that Adls’ consistent witness to Arculf ’s role as pilgrim guide and Holy Land expert actually points to the bishop’s non-existence.36 In sum, instead of establishing Arculf as the fulfilment of Augustine’s call for an authentic eyewitness to supply the empirical facts requisite for exegetical discourse, O’Loughlin argues that the Iona library was robust enough to play the part, and the Arculf figure is a fictional composite that Adomnán created in order to have a expert validate the facts and ‘observations’ drudged up from his literary sources.37 Despite Arculf ’s depiction as an authentic pilgrim, primary source and dialogue partner, what the reader actually encounters is a literary device that provides ‘the appearance of answering factual questions’.38 Arculf is a literary creation to an exegetical end.

34 TOL (2007), 34. By contrast, the study argues that there is relatively little material in Book 1 that is not based upon Arculf ’s report. See appendix 1. 35 Cf. TOL (2007), 253-54. 36 Cf. TOL (2007), 57. Despite relegating Arculf to the role of literary fiction and arguing that Adls was the product of the Iona library, O’Loughlin admits that certain details of the text reflects the memories of a real life traveller(s) and concedes that incidental information of non-exegetical interest finds its way into the text. At the same time, O’Loughlin challenges the existence of Arculf as he is described by Adomnán (i.e., an authentic, individual Holy Land pilgrim) and never adequately addresses the seventh-century contents of Adls. The study does not presume to identify what O’Loughlin may or may not regard as vestiges of ‘Arculf ’; cf. appendix A2.7, ‘The Final Verdict on Arculf ’. The study consequently characterizes O’Loughlin’s view as one that denies the existence of Arculf. 37 O’Loughlin never directly addresses the question of how his depiction of Arculf as a fragmented, composite figure fulfills the role of expert eyewitness nor the point that he is actually advocating for multiple expert eyewitnesses in the text (that it, each of the sources that comprise the composite figure of Arculf). O’Loughlin’s presentation of Arculf raises a number of outstanding questions. 38 TOL (2007), 57.

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Appendix 2

By relegating Arculf to the role of a fictional expert, O’Loughlin rescinds Augustine’s call for a genuine eyewitness and nullifies his point about medieval authority. As a literary figure, Arculf was not a direct source of knowledge. Why exactly is a third-tier authority needed to rubber stamp the higher authorities of Scripture and patristic tradition? The Eucherius text, which purportedly served as a prototype, lacks such a role. Why did Adomnán need his readers to think that a genuine expert was validating the material? Would they have doubted that the Iona library contained the empirical evidence necessary to write the text? The questions raise an important point. Eyewitness information can be documented. That is the whole point of Augustine’s call for exegetical resources: to make firsthand knowledge widely available. At some point, library holdings throughout Western Europe would contain the sought-after details. The urgent need for eyewitness experts would dissipate, and it would fall upon scholars to produce scriptural resources based upon the documented material. While O’Loughlin asserts that the Iona library contained the necessary information with which to write Adls, he does not address the points raised by these questions. After Augustine specifies that the facts could only be acquired through eyewitness experts, how did the Iona library acquire the information over the next two and half centuries? What, again, is the relationship between Augustine’s call for an eyewitness expert and Adomnán’s use of a literary Arculf? Why did Adomnán need a literary figure to guide his exegetical treatise? Moreover, what are the implications of Adomnán’s ruse? Is there a medieval precedent for the use of literary figments, and, if so, how was the practice viewed? Was it dishonourable in any way, or does the intricate creation of Arculf bring credit to the abbot’s literary skills? Since the purported invention went undetected for centuries, should Adomnán receive additional accolades? O’Loughlin goes to great lengths to assert that Adomnán was the mastermind of a literary illusion; yet, he provides no discussion, one way or the other, on how the ruse should impact our assessment of the abbot. To recap the discussion, O’Loughlin establishes Augustine’s call for an exegetical manual as the inspiration behind Adls. However, instead of recognizing the genuine role that an authentic pilgrim plays as Adomnán’s eyewitness expert, O’Loughlin relegates the figure of Arculf to the realm of literary fiction, while locating most of the requisite facts in the Iona library. Lacking real empirical knowledge, a fictional Arculf is used to validate the ‘observations’ of Adomnán’s written sources.

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Appendix 2

A2.4. Adls as Exegetical Manual O’Loughlin devotes significant attention to the question of genre, addressing the issue in two ways.39 Firstly, he dismisses categories such as travellogue, pilgrim literature and itinerarium.40 Secondly, he argues that ‘something else’ is going on in the text, namely, an interest in the enigma of scripture. Adls, he maintains, is an exegetical manual. O’Loughlin correctly points out that the categories of travellogue, pilgrim literature and itinerarium are inadequate descriptions of Adls.41 Noting that Adls has been commonly viewed as the recollections of Arculf ’s travels and, thus, as evidence of pilgrimage at the end of the seventh century, O’Loughlin states that Adls never claims to be a text of pilgrim literature: An important strand in pilgrim literature is the personal element of recording the sense of being closer to a religious ideal of closeness to the divine – we see this in the first person in [Jerome’s Ep. 46] and in the third person in Jerome’s account of Paula’s pilgrimage, but it is wholly lacking in [Adls]: sometimes we are told what Arculf did with regard to relics, but the spiritual effect of this event on Arculf is never mentioned.42

O’Loughlin argues that ‘the amount of information that the work actually provides about the experience of pilgrimage is severely limited’.43 The genre of Adls is also addressed in chs 2.1 and 4.1, ‘Adls as Pilgrim Text’. O’Loughlin (2007), 16-18 also questions the idea that Adls is actually focused on the ‘holy places’ by introducing an irrelevant dichotomy between ‘holy’ and ‘unholy’ sites. While pilgrims did not venerate the ‘unholy’ sites, they routinely visited and/or recognized negative theological places and events, such as Herod’s massacre of the children (AG 9; Anacr. 19.53-56), Gehenna (Ep. Faust. 7; Hag. 6-10), Aceldama (Hag. 10), the fig tree of Judas (Itin. 17; Hag. 10), the Dead Sea (It. Burg. 597; Itin. 10; Ep. Faust. 12) and Mt Vulcano (VW 30). O’Loughlin’s point actually highlights the similarities between Adls and other pilgrim texts. 41 Cf. TOL (2007), 18-19. The travellogue genre conjures up images of distant travel, amusing adventures and exotic observations. Compared to Willibald’s experiences in VW, Adls is largely bereft of the ‘adventures of Arculf ’; however, exotic images such as crocodiles, smoking volcanoes, miraculous rainfalls, supernatural winds and shadow-suspending columns, along with a number of miracle stories, lend a superficial sense of travellogue to the text. 42 TOL (2007), 19. 43 TOL (2007), 18. The study accepts O’Loughlin’s definition of pilgrim literature as a strand of writing focusing upon personal religious experience, which is classically portrayed in Jerome’s description of Paula at the tomb of Christ (Jerome, 39

40

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Appendix 2

Adls ‘cannot be fully appreciated when it is viewed as a collection of exotic lore, a traveller’s tale or a specimen of pilgrims’ literature’.44 O’Loughlin likewise states that Adls is not an itinerary, an account of a journey ‘given in such a manner that another traveller could use it in way-finding’.45 Noting that one can reconstruct the journeys contained in certain texts ‘following the sequence of the narrative with its clear directions in the form “having left X we travelled to Y”’, he is ‘struck by the almost complete absence of such itinerary markers’. Perceiving a lack of discernible routes behind the movements of Adls, O’Loughlin claims that the details are insufficient to chart the actual journeys of a pilgrim, while the text lacks geographical coherence in its description of the Holy City.46 Although Adls has long been grouped with itineraria, O’Loughlin concludes that the classification fails to understand both its form and purpose. Rejecting the aforementioned categories, O’Loughlin argues that Adls ‘was intended from the outset as a work to promote the understanding of Scriptures and not simply a travel account that would per accidens facilitate that endeavour’.47 The purpose of Adls ‘was to supply a muchneeded work of reference in scriptural exegesis’ that would resolve various aenigma in the biblical text.48 Adomnán’s interest in Scripture determined ‘what should be included; the extent to which certain things / places were described; and what questions were put to “Arculf”’.49 O’Loughlin’s argument has focused upon a dozen examples that address such questions as: how does geography explain Scripture and harmonize the Gospels, how do places inform scriptural prophecy, and how

Ep. 108:9.2). However, internal religious experience is not a characteristic of the preCrusader pilgrim texts. While Adls is not pilgrim literature, it is replete with ‘the experience of pilgrimage’, which are more properly defined as the observation of the holy sites, pilgrim practices, liturgical references and Holy Land stories. See A2.4 and A2.7, ‘Arculf ’s Pilgrim Persona’. 44 TOL (2007), 13. 45 TOL (2007), 19-20. The most complete itineraria contain the names of stations sequentially listed by distance. The fourth-century It. Burg. recounts the stations of the so-called Bordeaux Pilgrim to Palestine and back again to Rome, while Theodosius’ sixth-century DSTS lists various excursions beyond the Holy City. 46 The claim that Book 1 lacks geographical coherence is patently incorrect; cf. A2.7, ‘Discernible Pathways’. 47 TOL (2007), 10. 48 TOL (2007), 7. 49 TOL (2007), 7.

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Appendix 2

can the meaning of different nouns by explained?50 Specific examples include: what is the relationship between David’s tomb and Christ’s resurrection, how can the contradiction of Rachel’s tomb be resolved, and what are the qualities of earth salt that inform its scriptural reference?51 Adls’ exegetical interests include the identity of biblical locations, the explanation of geographical features and the interplay between Scriptures and geography. O’Loughlin argues that the collective examples indicate that ‘something else’ besides a pilgrim’s report is going on in Adls, namely, an interest in resolving the exegetical aenigma of the biblical texts. Although O’Loughlin has touched upon the inability of scholars to properly classify Adls, he has overlooked the core substance of Adls and the common denominator that links it with the corpus of pilgrim texts to which it belongs: the details of commemorative topography. Pilgrim texts, such as Adls, are primarily interested in the commemoration, location and physical appearance of the sacred places. The texts describe sacred landscapes, identify churches and record the presence of religious objects, while paying particular attention to the commemorative foci of the sites. Pilgrim texts provide an account of how the Holy Land was ordered by describing the spatial relationships between the sacred places; thus, the sequencing of material is an important consideration. The sources occasionally include information on the pilgrim practices and liturgical activities performed at the sites; personal religious experience and socio-political details are not standard elements of the genre. Adls is principally a pilgrim text. Since the genre is defined by a common subject rather than by literary convention, the texts take various forms, ranging from autobiographical accounts to standardized guides. Some contain secondary interests, and it is not unusual for ‘something else’ to be going on in the texts.52 However, their prime concern is the contemporary conditions of the holy sites, or the details of sacred topography. While the It. Burg. is a classic example of an itinerary, once the text arrives in the Holy City, it focuses upon the commemorative topography of fourth-century Jerusalem. The writings of the Piacenza Pilgrim contain colourful depictions of pilgrim piety. Willibald emphasizes perseverance as a virtue of the Cf.  Adls 1.11; 1.25; 1.2.13; 1.2.9-10. Cf.  Adls 2.4; 2.7; 2:17-18; Mt 5:13. Also see O’Loughlin’s discussion of Adls 2.30 on Alexandria and the text of Nahum; cf. TOL (2007), 104-09. 52 Secondary interests appear in single-sourced and multiple-sourced writings; they occur in autobiographies and in writings by remote authors. 50 51

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Appendix 2

Christian life.53 It is not uncommon for a pilgrim text to have subsidiary concerns, and Adls is no exception. Even so, exegetical concerns neither define nor dominate the text, particularly Book 1. Numerous chapters do not address any scriptural aenigma, while Adls misses more than one opportunity to explicate the biblical text.54 O’Loughlin never makes a comprehensive presentation of his argument, such as a chapter-by-chapter listing of the exegetical issues addressed by the text. Relying upon approximately a dozen examples, O’Loughlin asserts the claim without actually making the case.55 Eschatology, moreover, is the ‘something else’ going on in Book 1. Exegesis is a tertiary interest. O’Loughlin admittedly takes a broad definition of exegesis, arguing that theology needs to be understood as embracing exegesis rather than being distinct from it.56 Even so, Adls’ attention to the contemporary condition of the holy sites resists a simple association between commemorative topography and exegesis.57 O’Loughlin tends to conflate scholarly exegesis with pilgrim-based interpretations of sacred topography. His statement that ‘one must see, touch, taste, walk around, measure, note colours, shapes and characteristics’, made in the context of Augustine’s call for empirical data, deftly articulates how pilgrims, such as Arculf, engaged the Holy Land.58 Adls’ identification of Rachel’s tomb simply reflects a pilgrim’s report; it does not express an exegetical Cf. Aist (2009), 247-55. See A2.5. While certain exegetical interests in Adls are self-evident, they are limited in number, and where they occur, they are saddled upon a foundational core of commemorative topography. While Book 2 contains significantly more supplemental sources than the Jerusalem material, it is still based upon the contemporary report of Arculf. The description of the baptism site (Adls 2.16), for example, is vintage pilgrim text material. There are no scriptural conundrums to be solved and no exegetical problems that need to be worked out. The chapter shows Adomnán at his best as a faithful recorder of Arculf ’s report. 55 By contrast, see the argument outlined in appendix 1. 56 TOL (2007), 9-10. 57 Although sacred topography and scriptural exegesis are complementary areas of theology, mutually interested in Christian revelation, the contemporary accounts of the holy places defy a simple association with exegesis. Interested in the present-day signs of God’s providence, Christians saw a sacramental quality in the Holy Land that revealed certain truths of the Christian faith. 58 TOL (2007), 56. Cf. ch. 2.1 and A2.7, ‘Arculf ’s Pilgrim Persona’. O’Loughlin’s argument has an implicit bias against the sophistication of the Arculf, pilgrim-based material. Medieval pilgrims were pious devotees of the holy places as well as learned students of sacred topography and scriptural theology, returning home with sophisticated understandings of the Holy Land. O’Loughlin perceives the theological, exegeti53

54

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Appendix 2

achievement on the part of Adomnán. Adls 1.11’s description of the centre of the world is likewise based upon Arculf ’s encounter with the holy places. This raises a key point of O’Loughlin’s argument: his advocacy of a start-to-finish role for Adomnán as the author of the text. With Arculf ’s authenticity in doubt, O’Loughlin promulgates the image of the abbot as an isolated scholar working alone with his books.

A2.5. Adomnán as Exegete O’Loughlin does not simply raise the profile of Adomnán as author of Adls; he advocates a specific role for the abbot as exegete and composer of the text.59 The range of authorial functions include the following possibilities: 1) Adomnán as a scribe transposing Arculf ’s dictations, 2) Adomnán as the redactor of Arculf ’s report, 3) Adomnán as exegete developing areas of scriptural interest raised through his discussions with Arculf and 4) Adomnán as exegete working ‘on his own’, identifying and resolving scriptural confusions and linking them to a geographical template without any contributions from Arculf, who is merely a literary fiction. Effectively dismissing the first three models, O’Loughlin champions a start-to-finish role for Adomnán as the author of Adls. The exegetical process was not the result of research prompted by Arculf ’s report, references that would have already been linked to specific locations. Rather, O’Loughlin envisions the entirety of the exegetical process, including the creation of the text’s geographical template, germinating within Adomnán’s study. The project must be appreciated for its breadth and ambition. The inspiration, templates and empirical facts were derived from the Iona library. Scriptural dilemmas and points of exegetical interests were identified from the written sources, while the geographical framework of the text, a complex creation of physical landscapes, geographically-grouped locations and plausible sequences, was conjured up in Adomnán’s study. The discussions of biblical geography and scriptural exegesis were then pinned to specific sites and holy places, and the text was finished with cal and eschatological sophistication of the text solely in terms of Adomnán’s scholarship. 59 TOL (2007), 42 dismisses what he refers to as the ‘Arculf hypothesis’ – the position that does not ‘pay attention to Adomnán, his background, or his context, as he is primarily the amanuensis and publisher of the distinguished episcopal scholar and traveller, Arculf ’.

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the veneer of a pilgrim guide and expert eyewitness. As the author of such an ambitious project, Adomnán would rightly deserve recognition for his scholarly achievement. Yet, this portrayal of the abbot, which ignores the role of Arculf, distorts the achievements of Adomnán as a competent scholar interested in sacred topography, scriptural exegesis and eschatological imagery. From source to composition, Adls is a collaborative work, which, true to Augustine, was dependent upon the oral report of its eyewitness expert. In short, the exegetical interests of the text were prompted by subjects raised in the bishop’s report. Only one chapter in Book 1, Adls 1.25, may arguably reflect a start-to-finish composition on the part of Adomnán. Containing an exegetical discussion of the Apocalyptic Discourse, the chapter expresses Adomnán’s interest in resolving scriptural conundrums. While the evidence for Arculf ’s absence is suggestive, there are reasons to believe that he mentioned the site to Adomnán, and Adls 1.25 is, at best, an outlier among the Jerusalem material.60 Another interesting case study is Adls 1.11, the column of the Miraculous Healing, associated with the centre of the world. The chapter does not mention Arculf, which O’Loughlin takes as evidence that the discussion is the independent creation of Adomnán.61 The monument, most likely constructed during the Inter-conquest period, is corroborated by three postByzantine sources, and at the time of Arculf, pilgrims visiting the city physically encountered a theological connection between the centre of the world and the place of salvation. In other words, Adls 1.11 refers to an actual seventh-century structure. The monument and its theological importance were sourced by Arculf; they were not the creation of Adomnán. Since the column embodied a specific theological truth, there was little to work out in the study of Iona. Adomnán listened to Arculf ’s report of a special column in Jerusalem, recorded the details, and, at most, he may have added Ps 74:12. Adls 1.11 exemplifies the important connection between theology and sacred topography. Its source, however, was the living tradition of Jerusalem not the literary texts of Iona. Similarly, resolving the conundrum of Rachel’s tomb was not the result of the abbot deciding which of the conflicting biblical references was accurate. The Bethlehem location reflected a longstanding pilgrim See ch. 4.2, ‘The Mt of Olives’. It is unclear whether O’Loughlin thinks the idea of a physical column was referenced in a literary source or simply made up by Adomnán; the latter seems to be the case. 60 61

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tradition as reported by Arculf, Epiphanius and others.62 The location of Rachel’s tomb solves a conundrum of Scripture; however, the information, which was widely known, represents Jerusalem-based topography rather than Iona-based exegesis. Adls is not the product of Adomnán working alone in his study, identifying exegetical issues, resolving scriptural conundrums and pinning discussions upon a geographical framework, linked together by the artifice of a literary figure who gives additional form, movement and authority to the work. Adls is a pilgrimbased text of commemorative topography that addresses certain points of exegesis.

A2.6. Methodology While O’Loughlin has misidentified the basic nature of Adls, his research has lacked a proper topographical approach to the text. Adls places Holy Sion outside the city walls and omits the pool of Bethesda, while its entire account of intramural Jerusalem, Adls 1.2-11, is limited to the complex of the Holy Sepulchre. What appears at first to be topographical transgressions are, in fact, the expression of theological intentions – the representation of the Holy City as New Jerusalem – and for all the attention that O’Loughlin gives to exegesis, eschatology dominates Book 1. Herein lies Adls’ originality: the text manipulates real topography to espouse an image of the city in which the theological sum is greater than its topographical parts. A thorough topographical methodology is key to unlocking the theological riches of the text. The methodology likewise affirms a basic characteristic of Adls, one which O’Loughlin never adequately addresses: the presence of seventhcentury material in the text. The analytical starting point is to ascertain whether the topographical details of the text are derived from a contemporary source. A concentrated group of texts from the post-Byzantine period, including The Armenian Guide (c. 625), Epiphanius (bef. 692), Willibald (720s) and the Commemoratorium (c. 808), enables a detailed interrogation of Adls, which overwhelmingly establishes the seventhcentury provenance of the Jerusalem material.63 O’Loughlin never compares Adls against the corpus of post-Byzantine texts. The oversight fatefully undermines his work; yet, it reflects his consistent approach See JW (2002), 340-41. See appendix 1.

62 63

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to Adls, which has focused upon Adomnán’s literary sources. In other words, O’Loughlin’s research has exclusively focused on the texts that Adomnán actually had or ones that he might plausibly have possessed. In terms of Jerusalem studies, O’Loughlin has restricted his research to a conversation with Byzantine-era sources, never considering the possibility that Adls contains descriptions of the city’s seventh-century commemorative landscape. The study’s methodology has asked a very different question. Analyzing commemorative details in texts that Adomnán did not possess, the task is to corroborate information found in independent, contemporary sources. Instead of searching for literary parallels, the approach considers the substance of topographical descriptions, irrespective of language and word choice. What are the texts describing in real, physical terms? What was actually on the ground? Since O’Loughlin is convinced that Adls is the product of literary texts rather than Adomnán’s oral source, he focuses on literary clues rather than topographical contents. Methodologically, O’Loughlin has never properly searched for Arculf, dismissing the bishop without having adequately pursued him.64 In addressing the question of methodology, O’Loughlin offers the following comments in his 2007 monograph, in which he dismisses the need for a thorough topographical approach: Geographical background information was available in the tradition to which Adomnán was heir in such works as Eucherius’ De situ Hiersolymae [Ep. Faust.] and Theodosius’ De situ terrae sanctae. So are we to see Adomnán as simply one more member of this tradition gathering up snippets of information from this library and from other sources, for instance, someone like Arculf, and then arranging it neatly for others? If this were the case then the more effective way of writing about Adomnán would be to produce a sequence of parallels showing what we find in Adls and comparing it with its sources, and Adomnán’s originality would be simply where he differed and distinguished himself from those sources. In that case, despite the fact that there are many such parallel sequences in this book examining Adomnán’s relationship to his sources, this book would not be worth writing, and I would have been better employed in producing a fully source-annotated edition.65 64 O’Loughlin has focused on the details of Arculf ’s background and contemporary socio-political information found in the text instead of the central features of Arculf ’s report. His pursuit of Arculf has been cursory and anecdotal. 65 TOL (2007), 14. O’Loughlin’s point that there are limitations to the presentation of scholarly arguments is well taken. However, the claims that O’Loughlin makes

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O’Loughlin wavers between the claim that he has produced the necessary textual parallels and the argument that a topographical analysis is not actually needed.66 The paragraph expresses a general ambivalence towards a more thorough methodology, while the examples that he cites are Byzantine-era sources. O’Loughlin also underestimates the effectiveness of a more rigorous method, since a text’s originality can only be fully recognized once its similarities and differences from other sources have been properly understood. O’Loughlin’s work has been characterized by certain premises that have effectively stymied the direction of his research. His approach has lacked a proper methodology and an adequate thoroughness in interrogating the material. As a result, he has never obtained a comprehensive picture of Adls, while failing to perceive the full theological richness of the text.

A2.7. The Problems of Arculf Turning to the specific ‘problems of Arculf ’, Adomnán’s depiction of the bishop raises ‘significant suspicions’ for O’Loughlin, who employs four principal arguments against the authenticity of Arculf: 1) perceived errors in Arculf ’s report, 2) the lack of a developed pilgrim persona, that is, the argument that Arculf does not behave like a pilgrim, 3) the lack of discernible routes and pathways indicating that Adls is based upon the movements of an actual traveller and 4) the imprecision of Arculf ’s background. According to O’Loughlin, when the ‘actual contribution of Arculf is considered on a site-by-site basis, this internal criticism begins to reveal some alarming inconsistencies’.67 Three criteria will factor in the assessment of O’Loughlin’s ‘problems of Arculf ’. First of all, are O’Loughlin’s arguments accurate in the first place? Indeed, the claims that Adomnán never develops Arculf ’s pilgrim persona and that Adls lacks a knowledge of real pathways will be rejected require more than representative examples and anecdotal arguments. They necessitate a comprehensive presentation of the argument, even in outline form, on a chapter-bychapter or subject-by-subject basis. O’Loughlin’s comments raise the need for an updated annotated edition of Adls for the benefit of both Insular and Jerusalem scholars that would update our collective understanding of the Arculf material and the Byzantine-era literary sources that comprise the text. 66 The reference to the ‘many such parallel sequences in this book’ suggests a methodological diligence that is not apparent in his work. More significantly, he fails to consider the post-Byzantine sources. 67 TOL (2007), 42.

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out of hand. Secondly, O’Loughlin has a tendency to blame Arculf for the abbot’s redactions. Between Adomnán’s manipulation of his sources and the fact that Arculf ’s oral report is unknown to us, assessing the Arculf source material must be done with a significant degree of caution. While aspects of Arculf ’s report can be positively confirmed, the logic of negative assertions is inherently weak. Yet, O’Loughlin consistently faults Arculf for falling victim to the redactions of Adomnán. Third, even if some of O’Loughlin’s observations are correct, the strength of the argument must still be weighed. What degree of evidence is required in order to renounce the veracity of Arculf? On the other hand, what proof would sufficiently establish the bishop’s integrity? While the authenticity of Arculf finds expression in his pilgrim persona, he is further substantiated through the contemporary details contained in the text. In the spirit of Augustine, we encounter Arculf ’s essence as a function of what he knows. Adomnán provides a faithful depiction of Arculf as the text’s eyewitness source, while the perceived problems of Arculf are ultimately unconvincing and inconsequential.

The Errors of Arculf O’Loughlin perceives problematic observations in the text that raise questions regarding Arculf: ‘Arculf sees what cannot be seen, sees events that are the result of textual errors in the transmission of the Scriptures, and makes many other blunders’.68 As a bishop and an educated cleric, Arculf should not ‘make some of the mistakes he makes’. He ‘is confused on many issues, mistaken or ill-informed on other matters, and, here and there, downright wrong’.69 O’Loughlin describes a rather troubling state of affairs. If the key component of an exegetical manual is personal empirical knowledge, then the project is significantly undermined if the source is unreliable and prone to inaccuracies. O’Loughlin fails to consider that if Arculf is a literary fiction, then these inconsistencies are the mistakes and responsibilities of Adomnán. Dismissing Arculf ultimately undermines Adomnán. Pilgrim texts contain mistakes and ambiguities, and the presence of certain ‘errors’ in Adls, which is actually at the heart of the study, is no surprise. First of all, is a perceived error actually a mistake, or can it be otherwise explained? Is the reader’s interpretation of the material perhaps at fault? Secondly, what is the nature or category of the error? Is TOL (2007), 42. TOL (2007), 63 and 62.

68

69

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it a topographical mistake? Does it relate to socio-political matters? Is the biblical past falsely presented as a present reality? Third, the analysis looks at the possible sources of the error. Was there a miscommunication at any point in the compositional process? Did Arculf convey strange but accurately transmitted information from Jerusalem? Was he wrong or confused in his observation of a site, or was his memory later at fault? Did Adomnán misinterpret Arculf? How detailed and accurate were Adomnán’s notes, and did the abbot err in deciphering them? Was the error derived from a literary source? Was source material altered, for any reason, in the final composition of the text? We begin by examining a couple of misunderstandings regarding Arculf ’s report before turning to points related to Adomnán’s composition of the text. First of all, certain impossibilities ascribed to Arculf are, in fact, the faithful transmission of Jerusalem tradition. Case in point is Adls 1.11, which describes the phenomenon of a shadow-free city on the summer solstice, a physical impossibility that Arculf could not have seen. However, the belief that Jerusalem’s centrality was witnessed by a lack of shadow was not Arculf ’s personal claim. It was not a question of whether Arculf or anyone else saw the impossible; it was a belief of the Jerusalem church.70 Holy Land pilgrimage was not simply about seeing sites; it was about hearing stories, and the legend of the centre of the world, verified by the purported phenomenon of a shadow-free solstice, was exactly the kind of material that pilgrims gathered. To blame Arculf as a conduit of Jerusalem tradition is to shoot the messenger. Pilgrims returned home with stories as well as experiences, and Jerusalem traditions are a central part of Arculf ’s report. There is no need to assume that Arculf was an eyewitness to the miraculous rainfall that annually baptized the city nor that he was the primary interpreter of its significance. He is conveying a local Christian tradition that gave importance to the first autumn rains following the dedication festival of the Holy Sepulchre.71 While Arculf places himself at the Ascension Day mass, the annual storm that he describes falls into the same category.72 The point is more obvious with respect to one-off events that happened in the past, such as the conflict over Jesus’ head cloth, a miracle story 70 Cf. Nikulás of þverá, Extract from Nikulás of þverá, 80-87, trans. in JW (1988), 217. Also discussed in Aist (2009), 89-90. Also see Verdier (1974), 29-31. 71 See ch. 4.2, ‘Adls 1.1 as Prologue’. 72 Cf.  Adls 1.23.15-18.

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that Arculf heard about but did not witness.73 Pilgrims listened to stories and gathered legends, and Arculf aptly fulfils the role of a faithful correspondent, sharing narratives from the centre of the world. Stories from Jerusalem are not problems of Arculf. While Arculf ’s report needs to be read in the broader context of Jerusalem tradition, Adls is a Christian text written about Christian Jerusalem. The historical tendency of a religious traveller to Jerusalem was to view the Holy City in terms of one’s own faith; ‘Jewish sources mention Jews, Christians mention Christians, and Muslims mention Muslims, but “the other” is treated as if he [or she] did not exist’.74 Despite the fact that Jerusalem was under Muslim control during the time of Arculf ’s visit, Adls envisages a Christian city, depicting the ‘whole population’ of Jerusalem in Christian terms.75 The same dynamic plays out in Willibald’s description of eighth-century Jerusalem, which does not contain a single reference to the Muslim presence in the city even though the Dome of the Rock had recently been built. References to the religious topography of the other and socio-political details in general are not common features of the Christian pilgrim texts. When they do appear, they usually occur for a particular reason, such as the anti-Jewish role that the Saracens play in Adls.76 This is not to say that the socio-political references lack information.77 However, descriptions of the religious and political other are commonly sparse and imprecise, while the Latin texts reflect a Western perspective.78 Arculf encountered the Muslim hegemony of the Holy Land; yet, he lived as a Christian in Christian Jerusalem. He was interested in the Christian holy places not in the political context of Palestine, and in this respect, Adls is, by no means, unique. Cf.  Adls 1.9. Cf. JMO (2012), 225; Aist (2009), 245. TOL (2007), 168-75 acknowledges that ‘in a book by a Christian for Christians, it is hardly surprising that the emphasis is on Christians and Christian matters’; however, O’Loughlin misses the full implication of the point stating that ‘the extent of that concentration is surprising’. 75 One exception is Adls 1.9, in which the city’s population is represented as consisting of believing Christians and unbelieving Jews. 76 Cf.  Adls 1.1.14 and 1.9. It is immaterial to Adls that the Saracens were not Christians. What mattered is that they were not Jews. The claim in TOL (2007), 169 that ‘there is no hint that the city had passed out of Christian control’ fails to understand the role that the Saracens play in the text. On the significance of the Saracen references in VW, see Aist (2009), 240-47, 328. 77 Cf. Hoyland and Waidler (2014). 78 Cf.  Adls 1.9.11, which describes Mu’awiya as the king of the Saracens. Also see TOL (2000b). 73 74

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O’Loughlin’s argument that Arculf ‘cannot even be relied upon for information on Palestine in the aftermath of the Arab Conquest’ is exactly what we should expect from the text.79 The absence of reliable information on Palestine is not a problem of Arculf. The discussion raises a related point. Is Adls an accurate and reliable text? What does it mean to say that a text is reliable? Reliability is a general standard that must ultimately return to the details. It also depends upon the scholarly question being asked. Despite certain mistakes and manipulations in the text, Adls is a remarkably reliable witness concerning the commemorative topography of seventh-century Jerusalem. Adls is not an especially reliable text with respect to the political, non-Christian context of Palestine in the post-Conquest period. We now turn to two points regarding the redactions of Adomnán. First of all, there are errors in Adls based upon his use of literary sources. Adomnán incorporates Eucherius’ distortion of Jerusalem as a single mountain, conflating the Western and the Eastern hills while disregarding the Tyropoeon Valley.80 As a result, Adomnán falsely assumes that water falling on Mt Sion flows out the eastern gates of the city.81 Adomnán’s assumption that the city’s southern wall was without gates is another misreading of Eucherius.82 Certain errors in the texts were caused by Adomnán’s use and misapplication of his textual sources; they are not problems are Arculf. A second purported error that actually relates to the redactions of Adomnán is the claim that Arculf sees things that belong to the scriptural past. Does Adls faithfully describe a seventh-century landscape, or does it depict biblical scenes as if they were contemporary realities? O’Loughlin’s argument that Adls is partially set in the biblical past is restricted to a few examples, particularly, the port of Alexandria, where Arculf purportedly sees events that are the result of textual errors in the transmission of Scripture.83 The isolated instances, which occur in the extra-Jerusalem material, concern the redactional touches of Adomnán; they do not undermine the Arculf source material.

Cf. TOL (2007), 14. Ep. Faust. 9. 81 Cf.  Adls 1.1.11-12. See chs 4.2, ‘Adls 1.1 as Prologue’ and 5.4, ‘Bede’s Use of Eucherius’. 82 Cf.  Adls 1.1.2-6 and Ep. Faust. 5. 83 Cf. TOL (2007), 104-09. 79

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Pilgrim texts are not immune to errors, and Adls contains its share. The most pronounced distortion in the text is the line of Jerusalem’s southern wall that places Holy Sion outside the city. How could Arculf, a person who spent nine months in Jerusalem and visited Holy Sion on multiple occasions, have described the wrong wall? How could an expert on Jerusalem fail to note the Tyropoeon Valley, omit the pool of Bethesda, describe the Eleona as south of Bethany and dislocate the grotto of Gethsemane from the tomb of Mary? How could Arculf have seen the impossible? Surely, Arculf should not have made some of the mistakes that he made. While statements that a Holy Land pilgrim would never act in certain ways can bring useful emphasis to an argument, they are slippery lines of reasoning, particularly for non-autobiographical texts that have complex compositional dynamics. Many of the perceived errors, though, are not mistakes at all. Arculf was a faithful conduit of Jerusalem tradition that included a number of miraculous legends. The dearth of reliable socio-political information characterizes pilgrim texts, which are focused upon Christian concerns. Certain topographical mistakes are derived from Adomnán’s literary sources, while, in a couple of instances, Adomnán’s redactions may present the biblical past as a contemporary reality. Above all, the Jerusalem material has been intentionally manipulated.84 Only after these identifiable ‘errors’ have been considered can we explore the additional possibility that Arculf ’s report contained observational confusions and mistakes of memory. Even so, the argument that errors in the text cast doubt upon the existence of Arculf can be laid to rest.

Arculf ’s Pilgrim Persona O’Loughlin’s second ‘problem of Arculf ’ is his lack of a pilgrim persona. Adls never claims ‘that the purpose of [Arculf ’s] residence in Palestine was pilgrimage’; there is ‘no implication that he went there precisely for that purpose as a pilgrim’.85 Arculf ‘is never called a pilgrim (peregrinus) but a “visitor” or a “frequenter”’.86 Arculf ‘has been taken as a “pilgrim” for centuries, but without asking the exact qualities that define that sort of traveller, yet he is not called a pilgrim nor is his behaviour typical of pilgrims before or after him’.87 Arculf describes several Jerusalem 86 87 84 85

See ch. 4.2, ‘The Extramural Status of Holy Sion’. TOL (2007), 18 and 19. TOL (2007), 19. TOL (2007), 62-63.

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churches; yet, he does not describe any rituals that pertain to pilgrims visiting them.88 Moreover, Arculf ’s information about the city’s cult of relics does not describe the activities of pilgrims; rather, it relates to ‘all the people of the city’.89 Arculf ‘is not just an enigma as an individual, but he does not fit any of the categories of traveller that we meet in the east at the time’.90 O’Loughlin’s characterizations expose an impoverished reading of Adls and the corpus of pilgrim texts, while demonstrating an insufficient understanding of the phenomenon of Holy Land pilgrimage. The argument that Adls does not explicitly call Arculf a peregrinus is made redundant in the first paragraph of the text: Arculf ‘stayed for nine months in the city of Jerusalem, and used to go round all the holy places on daily visits’.91 The stated purpose of Arculf ’s sojourn in the Holy City was the daily visitation of the holy sites, and there could hardly be a more succinct description of pilgrimage. The frequenting of holy sites is exactly what pilgrims do. Adls specifically states that Arculf had been to the Lord’s Sepulchre ‘many times’, ‘was tireless’ in visiting the church of Mary’s Tomb, paid the grotto of Gethsemane ‘many visits’ and was ‘a constant’ visitor at the church of the Ascension.92 While the essential task of pilgrimage was the visitation of holy sites, what did pilgrims do once they were there? Perhaps the most overlooked aspect of pilgrimage is that the experience was fundamentally about seeing the holy places, and Arculf ’s detailed observations of the sacred sites form the core of the text. Enumerating the city’s gates and towers, marvelling at the exterior features of the tomb of Christ, providing the gratuitous details of the wells in the Gethsemane grotto and detailing the remarkable scene at the church of the Ascension exemplify the fundamental act of pilgrim observation. Size, design, colour and building material are just some of the details that pilgrims noticed. In short, the pilgrim experience was sensuous. Next to sight, pilgrims engaged in physical touch.93 Arculf venerated the chalice of the Cf. TOL (2007), 18. TOL (2007), 18. 90 TOL (2007), 62-63. 91 Adls preface. 92 Cf.  Adls 1.2.8; 1.12.1; 1.15.3 and 1.23.6. 93 Paulinus of Nola succinctly captures the occupation of Holy Land pilgrimage: ‘No other sentiment draws people to Jerusalem than the desire to see and touch the places where Christ was physically present’ (Ep. 49.14). 88

89

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Lord by ‘touching it with his hand’.94 At the place of the Ascension, an opening in the railing allowed pilgrims to take away handfuls of the holy dust covering the footprints of Christ.95 The rock of Agony, which contained the visible marks of Jesus’ knees that had been pressed into the rock like soft wax, was likely displayed where pilgrim could touch it.96 Arculf tested Dead Sea salt ‘by sight, touch and taste’.97 Pilgrims made measured calculations of what they saw.98 According to Arculf, it would be ‘hard for two of our strong young men today to lift one of [the rocks at Gilgal] from the ground’; the water level of the Jordan River ‘reaches the neck of a very tall man’, while its width would require ‘a strong man using a sling [to] throw a stone from [the near side] to the far bank on the Arabian side’.99 Arculf measured the tomb of Christ with his hands and found it to be seven feet long; the floor of the burial chamber was three palms higher than the surrounding floor of the tomb.100 Arculf knew the length of the sudarium and the depth of Jacob’s Well.101 Adls also contains references to a number of pilgrim practices observed by Arculf. In Bethlehem, he washed his face in the pool of Jesus’ first bath.102 Arculf drank from Jacob’s well,103 and he swam both ways across the Jordan River.104 Pilgrimage was a religious exercise, and Arculf amply plays the part of the devout pilgrim. Arculf ’s piety is indicated by the multiple references to his daily visits to the holy sites of Jerusalem. Arculf venerated the chalice of the Lord and the sudarium of Christ, and he was presumably a part of the ‘city of Jerusalem’ that venerated the woven cloth of Mary.105 Arculf ’s complaint that he was not allowed to visit Nazareth and Adls 1.7.3. Adls 1.23.8. 96 Cf.  Adls 1.12.4. 97 Adls 2.17.5-6. 98 Measurements were understood as pilgrim blessings; cf. Itin. 22, which states that string measurements from the column of scourging at Holy Sion were worn about the necks of pilgrims. Measurements facilitated the replication of the holy throughout the Christian world. 99 Adls 2.14.3 and 2.16.2-3. 100 Cf. Adls 1.2.10 and 1.2.8. 101 Cf. Adls 1.9.16 and 2.21.5. 102 Cf. Adls 2.3.4. 103 Cf. Adls 2.21.5; Jn 4. 104 Cf. Adls 2.16.2; VW 16. 105 Cf. Adls 1.7.3; 1.9.16 and 1.10.1. 94 95

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Mt Tabor longer than it took for a ‘rapid inspection’ of the sites suggests a desire for prayer and reflection.106 He was present for the feast of the Ascension in Jerusalem, and his description of Constantinople’s liturgy of the Holy Cross is vintage pilgrim material.107 Prayer and liturgy are central components of pilgrimage; within the texts, though, these themes take a backseat to the primary interest of commemorative topography. Even so, Adls expresses a consistent interest in religious practice, and even in this respect, Arculf behaves like a pilgrim.108 O’Loughlin’s inexplicable claim that Arculf ‘does not fit any of the categories of traveller that we meet in the east at the time’ is demonstrably untrue,109 while his contention that Arculf ’s behaviour is atypical for ‘pilgrims before or after him’ reveals a lack of familiarity with the pilgrim texts and the general phenomenon of Holy Land pilgrimage.110 O’Loughlin also stresses the curious point that Arculf ’s information about Jerusalem’s cult of relics is not couched in terms of what pilgrims Cf. Adls 2.26.5 and 2.27.5. While there are no descriptions of Arculf engaged in personal prayer, prayer is not a consistent theme of other post-Byzantine texts, including the VW. 107 Cf. Adls 1.23.15-20 and 3.3. 108 Pilgrim texts seldom comment on, let alone record, the contents of Holy Land liturgy, and Egeria’s attention to the Jerusalem liturgy is a significant outlier. Similarly, Western pilgrims rarely mention their encounters with Eastern forms of worship or the theological distinctions between Eastern and Western Christianity. O’Loughlin (2007), 169-71 states that Adls ‘describes the cult in various churches without hint of any religious divides between factions, rites or language’, and although Arculf stayed in Constantinople for nine months, ‘there is no mention of any discrepancy in calendars between there and Iona: surprising since the dating of Easter was a live issue on Iona … The reader of [Adls] is led to imagine that all Christians, from those at the centre of things in Jerusalem, Alexandria, Constantinople and Rome, to those out on the edge of the inhabited world on Iona, have a single faith, form one group, and share one cult and liturgy’. While focusing on Adomnán’s ‘view from Iona’, O’Loughlin concludes that the abbot writes the text with ‘an assumption of “unity in Christ” rather than one of differences in forms of Christianity’. O’Loughlin fails to recognize that the ‘assumption of “unity in Christ”’ is a basic characteristic of the pilgrim texts. Willibald lived two years in Constantinople during one of the seminal periods of the iconoclastic controversy; yet, he never mentions it, describing his experience in terms of a unified Church. Cf. VW 29; Aist (2009), 240-42. If anything, the theme of Christian unity in Adls may point to Adomnán’sadoption of Arculf ’s pilgrim perspective, diminishing O’Loughlin’s argument that the text is characterized by a ‘view from Iona’. 109 TOL (2007), 62-63. 110 Cf. TOL (2007), 19. O’Loughlin has a misplaced emphasis on the expressions of personal experience and religious piety, including liturgy, as the defining characteristics of pilgrimage and its associative writings. There is no essential difference between the persona and behavior of Arculf and the subjects of other pilgrim texts, such as Willibald and Bernard the Monk. 106

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do but relates to ‘all the people of the city’.111 The ‘whole population of the city’ pays the greatest reverence to the Lord’s chalice, the ‘whole city of Jerusalem’ kisses the lance of Christ, and the ‘city of Jerusalem’ venerates the woven cloth of Mary.112 It is a misreading of the text to conclude that the references exclude the participation of Arculf and other pilgrims. As previously discussed, the historical tendency of a religious traveller to Jerusalem was to view the Holy City in terms of one’s own faith.113 Despite the fact that Jerusalem was under Muslim control during the time of Arculf ’s visit, Adls envisages a Christian city, depicting the ‘whole population’ of Jerusalem in Christian terms. Its population consisted of church officials and monastic communities, priests and laity, permanent residents and short-term pilgrims. Christian worship and the visitation of the holy sites was an activity of the entire Christian community. The phrasing is also replete with the eschatological resonance that runs throughout Book 1. Just as Adls’ Holy City is the manifestation of New Jerusalem, the city’s population represents the faithful citizens of New Jerusalem.114 To distinguish between pilgrims and the population shows a misunderstanding of Adls and the workings of Christian Jerusalem. In sum, the argument that Arculf lacks a pilgrim persona is antithetical to the text. Arculf frequented the sites, touched objects, venerated relics and participated in a number of pilgrim practices. A liturgical resonance pervades the text, while O’Loughlin admits that Arculf is interested in material objects and the cultus of religious worship.115 The most basic element of the pilgrim experience, though, was the observation of sacred topography, and, in this respect, Arculf is exceptional. Arculf as pilgrim is one of the most credible elements of the entire text.

Discernible Pathways Arguing that Adls contains no routes of actual roads and pathways, thus, no traces of a real pilgrim’s movements, O’Loughlin is struck by the ‘almost complete absence of … itinerary markers’ in the text.116 Book TOL (2007), 18. Adls 1.7.3; 1.8 and 1.10.1. 113 Cf. Aist (2009), 245 and JMO (2012), 225. 114 Cf. Apoc 21:24-26 and 22:3. 115 Cf. TOL (2007), 58. TOL (2007), 169 admits that the text ‘describes the cult in various churches’. 116 TOL (2007), 20. 111

112

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1, O’Loughlin maintains, has no geographical coherence. The ‘whole of the first book gives information on site after site, but apart from a few references to the cardinal directions, these sites are not related to one another, nor to a tour through the city, nor are any distances given. One has a set of “snap-shots” of the city, but no way can these be related to one another’.117 Similarly, the few details in the second and third books ‘are not enough to allow us to create a net linking the places, and so establish a route travelled or to find a set of ways or to work out distances’.118 Since Adls presumably lacks the discernible pathways of an actual traveller, Arculf ’s identity as a bona fide pilgrim is called into question. O’Loughlin’s argument also relates to Adomnán’s use of Arculf. The latter functions as a ‘literary device to connect the various items examined in [Adls] into a catena’.119 Adls ‘presents us with a seemingly random mixture of curious bits of information whose only apparent connection is the narrative link of Arculf travelling; each nugget of information is hung on a location with little more care than items in a jumble window shop’.120 O’Loughlin grants that the text contains perceived movements; however, they link together a ‘random mixture’ of places: ‘progression is maintained by the sense that Arculf is moving on from place to place and site to site, though this onward movement is more often implied than explicitly expressed’.121 The effect is that ‘the reader is given a clear sense that they are being led through [Adls] by Arculf as he recalls his movement around the territory. Indeed, it is a tribute to Adomnán’s art that most readers of [Adls] just see it as a tourist’s / pilgrim’s account of his travels’.122 While Arculf acts as ‘the link between places textually, we go well beyond the evidence when we think of those places as connected by Arculf ’s travelling from one location to another’.123 Similar to the question of Arculf ’s pilgrim persona, O’Loughlin argues that what TOL (2007), 20. The comments expose an inadequate knowledge of the topography of Jerusalem and the locations of the individual sites described in Book 1. 118 TOL (2007), 20. 119 TOL (2007), 260, nt. 27. 120 TOL (2007), 82. 121 TOL (2007), 49. 122 TOL (2007), 49. O’Loughlin’s argument characterizes his twofold approach to Arculf and Adomnán. On one hand, the presumed lack of discernible pathways is an argument against Arculf, while the fact that hardly anyone has noticed this and that the reader perceives actual movements within the text is a boon for Adomnán. O’Loughlin has raised Adomnán’s depiction of Arculf to the level of art, while the art subject itself has been cast aside. 123 TOL (2007), 21. 117

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the reader has perceived all along is not what it seems. Once again, his position is demonstrably untrue. While the arrangement of the text is geographically coherent, Adls’ source had clearly walked the terrain. O’Loughlin has raised a legitimate question: does Adls contain sufficient evidence of routes and pathways to establish that the text is based upon the travels of a genuine pilgrim? It is not, however, the most relevant line of inquiry. Despite the fact that recognizable pathways are embedded in the text, the more pertinent question is whether the sequence of Adls reflects the order in which a pilgrim would have described his experience. The primary source of Adls is not a map but an oral report. We now turn to the details, beginning with a few comments on Book 2 before examining the Jerusalem material. Although O’Loughlin claims that the details contained in the second book ‘are not enough to … establish a route travelled’, the material has significant geographical coherence.124 The first twelve chapters of Book 2 describe the pilgrim circuit south of Jerusalem, focusing upon the sites in and around Bethlehem and Hebron.125 Within the circuit, certain sites, such as Rachel’s tomb, do not follow the order of a coherent walking route. The sites of Bethlehem and Hebron are both described from the ‘inside out’, suggesting either an order of relative importance, the organization of Arculf ’s memory or the vantage point of a pilgrim travelling out from the two village centres. Adls provides a credible depiction of the southern pilgrim circuit, and whether its sequence represents how one would actually walk these sites is of little consequence. Following the southern circuit, Adls describes the circuit east of Jerusalem, including Jericho, Gilgal and Jordan River baptism site. We once again encounter an arrangement of material common to other pilgrim texts.126 However, the chapters immediately following the baptism site are definitely out of sequence from a walker’s perspective. Adls describes the Dead Sea to the south, moves to the springs of the Jordan at the far north of the country and returns halfway back to the Sea of Galilee.127 The sequence seems further confused by the fact that the specific sites on the Sea of Galilee are not described until later in the book.128 TOL (2007), 20. Adls 2.1-12. Cf. the southern circuits of DSTS 5; Itin. 8-15 and VW 22-24. 126 Cf. the eastern circuits of DSTS 18-20; Itin. 28-30 and VW 16-17. Some texts describe the sites of the Jordan River on their initial approach to Jerusalem. 127 Cf. Adls 2.17-20. 128 Cf. Adls 2.24-25. 124 125

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The sequence though, is perfectly plausible. Having introduced the Jordan River, the text thematically expounds upon the larger Jordan Valley, which includes the springs of the Jordan, the Sea of Galilee, more of the river and the Dead Sea. It is a very logical way of introducing the material, and it is not difficult to imagine the dialogue playing out between Arculf and Adomnán.129 The next site is the church of Jacob’s Well, located in the middle of the Samarian hills near the ancient city of Shechem. Arculf ’s dilemma is still faced by modern-day pilgrims. How does one fit biblical Samaria into the physical movements of a pilgrim itinerary? One can go straight north from Jerusalem; however, if one is continuing to the Galilee, the route leaves out Jericho and the baptism site. Or, after visiting the baptism site, one can go from the Jordan River into the Samarian hills. The latter scenario fits the sequence of Adls.130 After Jacob’s Well, the text returns to the Jordan River, which makes sense either in terms of Arculf ’s movements or his later reflections, and north to the Sea of Galilee. After the lakeside sites, Adls moves to Nazareth and Mt Tabor. One could argue that Nazareth and Mt Tabor, which are southwest of the Sea of Galilee, would be better placed prior to the Sea of Galilee. However, Arculf would not have passed them if he had continued up the Jordan River Valley after Jacob’s Well. It seems more likely that Nazareth and Mt Tabor were part of a mini-circuit that Arculf took from the Sea of Galilee.131 Book 2 plausibly concludes with the sequence of Damascus, Tyre and Alexandria.132 Without even considering possible alterations 129 From personal experience as a Holy Land guide, the introduction of one element of the Jordan River Valley often leads to an explanation of the entire valley. That the section reflects the thematic summary of the Jordan River Valley is further evidenced by the summary of Adls 2.19.4. 130 The discussion is not intended to determine Arculf ’s actual journeys but rather to demonstrate that Book 2 has geographical coherence. 131 See appendix 3. 132 Arculf returns to Jerusalem before departing for Alexandria from the port of Joppa; cf. Adls 2.30.2. The fact that some of Arculf ’s journeys are described in terms of time rather than distance further argues for the authenticity of the Arculf source material. Cf. Adls 2.29.4, which states that Arculf took seven days to travel from Mt Tabor to Damascus. From the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea, it took Arculf not less than eight days (Adls 2.20.6). The slightly expansive time it took to travel approximately one hundred kilometers may have included a diversion to Jacob’s Well. There is a discrepancy in the text, however, as the textual sequence moves north from the Jordan River to the Sea of Galilee, while the text explicitly states that Arculf travelled south from the Sea of Galilee down to the Dead Sea (cf. Adls 2.14-24 with 2.20.6). While Adls provides no information on Arculf ’s initial journey to Jerusalem, the north-to-south route along the Jordan River may refer to his original approach to the Holy City, which

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due to Adomnán’s redactions, there is a geographical integrity to Book 2 that reflects a credible combination of Arculf ’s actual movements and the sequence of his oral report. Moving to Jerusalem, O’Loughlin categorically denies any geographical coherence to Book 1: ‘one has a set of “snap-shots” of the city, but no way can these be related to one another’.133 The focus on geographical coherence and discernible walking paths overlooks a more fundamental question: what is the organizational principal behind the material? Book 1 describes the Holy Sepulchre as the sole intramural site, manipulating the material in order to depict the Holy City as the manifestation of New Jerusalem. Therefore, the question is whether physical pathways and oral-based sequences remain discernible in light of the intentional manipulation of the text. In the end, the point is mute as the footsteps of a real pilgrim can be clearly discerned in the Jerusalem material. Book 1 has a twofold geographical arrangement: intramural Jerusalem and extramural Jerusalem, with the latter grouped into three subsections, the Jehoshaphat Valley, Mt Sion and the Mt of Olives.134 Far from being a collection of random holy places, the intramural material carefully details a west-to-east walkthrough of the Holy Sepulchre ending at the column of the Miraculous Healing near the eastern front entrance of the complex.135 The source of Adls 1.2-11 had clearly walked the site. Adls lacks the common Holy Sepulchre–Holy Sion sequence and diverges from the standardized pilgrim circuit. Nonetheless, Adls’ first two extramural sections follow a logical geographical structure: areas adjacent to the city walls that are arranged according to the eastern and western gates of the city. The Mt Sion circuit is particularly revealing. First of all, the reference to keep ‘Mt Sion on the left’ makes more sense if one is walking the land and reflects an instance in which Adomnán did not translate the wording of Arculf into clearer language, namely, the use of cardinal directions, for those unfamiliar with the topography of Jerusalem.136 Secondly, the tree of Judas and Aceldama were secondary would mirror the inbound route taken by Willibald; cf. VW 13-18. If so, he either made a second trip to the Galilee or the text reverses the sequence in which Arculf visited the sites. 133 TOL (2007), 20. 134 See fig. 9. 135 O’Loughlin is unaware of the locations of Adls 1.9-11. On the likelihood that the column of the Miraculous Healing was a post-Byzantine construction, see Aist (2009), 172-73 and JMO (2010). 136 Adls 1.16.

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sites by the seventh century; their inclusion in Adls reflects the experience of a pilgrim who had time to venture off the city’s primary pilgrim route.137 Third, a deeply embedded detail in the text reveals the extent to which Adomnán’s source had an intimate knowledge of contemporary Jerusalem. Despite stating otherwise, Adls implicitly accounts for a gate in the city’s southern wall. To walk the tree of Judas–Holy Sion–Aceldama sequence of Adls 1.16-19, an eighth-century pilgrim would have left the Hinnom Valley, ascended Mt Sion and descended back down the hill to Aceldama. Although Adls refers to the retracted southern wall and assumes that the southern wall had no gates, the actual wall separated the Hinnom Valley from the summit of Mt Sion. Consequently, a traveller, such as Arculf, would have been impeded in his efforts to ascend Mt Sion – and the sequence would reflect no concern for the actual navigation of the landscape – unless there was a gate in the southern wall somewhere between the fig tree and Aceldama. Not only did the southern wall have such a gate, it was almost certainly the Tekoa Gate previously mentioned in Adls 1.1.3!138 Despite its depiction of the wrong line of a purportedly gateless wall, Adls implicitly reveals the presence of a gate in the actual wall. The deeply-embedded detail demonstrates that a genuine pilgrim with a personal knowledge of the city was the source of Adls. In sum, Adls possesses an intimate knowledge of Jerusalem and the Holy Land. The Holy Sepulchre material details a west-to-east survey of the complex, extramural sections begin at the eastern and western gates of the city, and an ambiguous ‘left-hand’ direction reflects the perspective of a walker. Despite the topographical manipulations and false assumptions of the text, a deeply-embedded detail reveals the text’s familiarity with the city. Secondary walking paths and second-tier holy sites are included in Adls, while Book 1 is arranged by clear geographical groupings. The text is marked with the footprints of a genuine traveller.

Arculf ’s Background A fourth problem of Arculf is the curious imprecision of his biographical information and the circumstantial details concerning his presence in the British Isles.139 According to O’Loughlin, ‘the incidental details we have about him, from his name, to his origins and domicile, to what See ch. 4.3, ‘The Jerusalem Circuit’. See Bahat and Rubinstein (2011), 89. 139 Also see discussion in ch. 4.1, ’The Role of Arculf ’. 137

138

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brought him into contact with Adomnán are curiously indistinct and lacking in credibility’.140 The only information that Adomnán provides is the single statement that describes Arculf as a sanctus episcopus gente gallus (a holy bishop of Gaulish birth).141 The vague phrase does not necessarily imply that Arculf ’s episcopal see was in Gaul. O’Loughlin finds the information ‘surprising in its imprecision: the diocese of which he is bishop is not mentioned, and, although the name sounds Frankish, he is described as gallus’.142 Bede supplies additional details, describing Arculf not as a bishop of Gaulish birth but as a ‘bishop of the lands of the Gauls’ (Galliarum episcopus).143 He also explains Arculf ’s presence in the British Isles: he was returning home (patria) from the Holy Land when his ship was driven by a storm to the western coast of Britain.144 Was Arculf returning to the place of his episcopal see (a location unspecified by Adomnán but linked with Gaul by Bede), or was he returning to the land of his birth (Gaul, according to Adomnán, but unspecified by Bede)? The uncertainly is fuelled by the fact that no bishop by the name of Arculf, in Gaul or elsewhere, appears in the historical records, a lacuna that has created speculation that Arculf was not the bishop’s actual name.145 Moreover, the place of Adomnán’s encounter with Arculf is never mentioned. Neither writer specifically states that Arculf was on Iona, although the location is suggested by the context of HE.146 It is possible that they met in Ireland or elsewhere in Britain. While O’Loughlin states that ‘Bede has far more information on Arculf than he could have gathered from reading Adomnán’, he does not directly address Bede’s source of information.147 Are Bede’s comments based upon his own conclusions, a writer’s need to fill in the blanks, or does Bede have independent information on Arculf? The answer has significant implications for how one interprets Bede’s comments. According to O’Loughlin, Bede perceived that ‘there was something strange about this bishop and the less precision the better’; his problem ‘was TOL (2007), 62. Adls preface. 142 TOL (2007), 51. 143 Bdls 7.3 and HE 5.15. 144 HE 5.15. 145 Cf. Woods (2002). 146 Cf. HE 5.15. 147 TOL (2007), 51. 140 141

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Appendix 2

explaining this contact [between Arculf and Adomnán] with as little straining of credibility as possible’.148 These comments imply that Bede lacked independent information on Arculf. If his descriptions of Arculf are speculative deductions from Adomnán’s text, then his references are suspect to say the least.149 A very different set of implications apply if Bede had independent information on Arculf. Adls’ depiction of Arculf is rarely assessed on its own terms. By considering both sources, the more fulsome report of Bede inevitably dominates. Regarding the location of the encounter, O’Loughlin states that Iona is the ‘obvious conclusion’ from the context of Bede, particularly given his reference to the west coast of Britain (in occidentalia Brittaniae litora).150 However, he notes that ‘Bede does not state that Arculf was on Iona, and again this imprecision does not tie Bede down to explaining precisely how Adomnán met him’.151 Bede is trying to account for how a bishop with ties to Gaul, having recently been to ‘the middle of earth’, could encounter Adomnán on the edge of the world. The story of a shipwrecked pilgrim on his way home from the Holy Land fills the gap; yet, it raises the implausibility of a person returning home to Gaul becoming shipwrecked in the North Atlantic. O’Loughlin sees ‘sufficient problems related to Bede’s account to put the whole matter [of Arculf] in doubt’.152 The details of Arculf ’s background are curious and inexact. While the study makes no attempt at resolving the ambiguities – i.e., Arculf ’s nationality, the location of his bishopric and the circumstances behind his encounter with Adomnán – the problem of Arculf ’s background warrants a threefold response. First of all, the testimony of Bede has been given inordinate weight. Given O’Loughlin’s advocacy of Adomnán as the author of Adls, one would expect the abbot’s testimony to be evaluated on its own terms, independently from Bede, whose access to the ‘facts’ of Arculf deserves more scrutiny. Adomnán’s single reference to Arculf as a sanctus episcopus gente gallus may raise our curiosity; yet, it hardly implicates the existence of Arculf.

TOL (2007), 52. O’Loughlin’s point is that Bede’s apparent confusion speaks to the gaps in Adomnán’s creation of Arculf as literary fiction. 149 See appendix 3. 150 Cf. HE 5.1.5; TOL (2007), 51. 151 TOL (2007), 52. 152 TOL (2007), 52. The doubt is curiously placed on Arculf rather than Bede. 148

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Secondly, Arculf ’s historicity should be assessed along the same lines as similar pilgrim figures. The pilgrim texts contain a number of obscure personalities and non-corroborated sources; yet, they are evaluated according to their contents, not upon the background details of their authors and subjects. Egeria’s persona emerges through the autobiographical nature of her writings, but we know very little about her. We are not even certain if she was from Spain.153 Few scholars would doubt her historicity or question the text based upon her biographical imprecisions; however, all we possess is a single, incomplete manuscript of her travels. Our knowledge of the Bordeaux Pilgrim, the Piacenza Pilgrim and Bernard the Monk are likewise dependent upon a single source; in each case, the pilgrim is recognized as an authentic figure limited in scope to a solitary text. Arculf comes to us as a pilgrim source rather than an autobiographical writer; yet, his observations and behaviours have been well-recorded by Adomnán, and we know as much about Arculf as we do the aforementioned pilgrims. In short, Arculf is an authentic, though limited, historical figure. To demand more of Arculf is to single him out among the pilgrim figures of the Holy Land texts. Third, Arculf ’s background has received an undue amount of attention. The quest for the bishop’s larger historical context has unfortunately been a dead-end pursuit; yet, the curiosities and imprecisions of Arculf ’s background are ultimately of little import. In the end, we discover Arculf not so much through what we know about him; rather, in the spirit of Augustine, we encounter Arculf through what he knows. While the bishop is credibly depicted throughout Adls, Arculf is substantiated through the corroboration of the commemorative details that comprise the text.154

The Final Verdict on Arculf Regarding Adls’ presentation of Arculf, O’Loughlin concludes that ‘the whole thing just does not add up’.155 O’Loughlin admits, however, that dismissing Arculf as a literary fiction raises two inherent problems. Firstly, one cannot prove the non-existence of any entity that could exist. The idea of ‘Arculf the bishop’ is neither fictive nor a real contradiction. Thus, O’Loughlin allows that ‘Adomnán may have known such a 153 On discussions of Egeria’s background, see Sivan (1988a) and (1988b); Weber (1989); Wilkinson (1999) and Hunt (2000) and (2001). 154 See appendix 1. 155 TOL (2007), 62.

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Appendix 2

man, even if we have no other evidence than his word’.156 Secondly, Adls contains ‘items of information … that are not part of the work’s exegetical agenda, such as details of the lamps hanging in the church of the Ascension that appear very much the fruit of a real traveller’s memories’.157 Certain portions of the text, such as Adls 1.4-5, are ‘seemingly ideal material’ for a travellogue.158 Since, noting Adls 1.13-16, ‘there are details about such things as tombs which could not be culled from literary sources’, we ‘must presume a real visitor was the source of information’.159 In the end, these concerns have little influence upon his final verdict: The Arculf that is found in Adls is a composite of many pieces of information from different sources; yet this person is presented as a single individual of suitable status to carry out all these information – bearing tasks, and given a plausible itinerary to justify the acquisition of this variety of bits of information. So, there may have been an individual human called Arculf, but ‘Arculf ’ as that personality emerges from the text is a literary fiction gathering many items together, ever ready to tip the balance in favour of the position believed to be found in the more eminent of the Fathers, and adding a narrative theme giving unity to the diverse topics of the three books. But, most important of all, ‘Arculf ’ gives Adomnán a peritus locorum as an interlocutor, and thereby facilitates Adomnán turning his researches into an exegetical manual.160

In dismissing Adomnán’s depiction of the bishop, O’Loughlin asserts that Arculf is a composite of multiple sources.161 He never explains, though, how seventh-century material made it to Iona in the first place, while offering no support to the problematic assertion of multiple Arculfs other than his fragmented presentation of the text. How exactly was the composite source created? In what form did the multi-sourced contents reach Adomnán? Were they already intact, or did they arrive TOL (2007), 62. TOL (2007), 62. The lamps of Adls are more than the frivolous details of pilgrim piety. Playing a symbolic role in the text, lamps effectively denote the special status of Jerusalem’s three holiest sites, namely, the tomb of Christ, Golgotha and the Ascension, exemplifying a rich interplay between commemorative detail and religious symbolism at work in the text; cf. Adls 1.2.12; 1.5.1; 1.6.3; 1.23.10. 158 TOL (2007), 58. 159 TOL (2007), 59. 160 TOL (2007), 63. 161 The idea of Arculf as a collection of texts is unconvincingly developed in Woods (2002). 156 157

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Appendix 2

as separate bits of information? Moreover, his admission of an ‘Arculf ’ source does not concern the empirical data of the text but the trappings of pilgrim travel, and it remains unclear what, if any, exegetically-related knowledge he actually ascribes to the Arculf material. In other words, O’Loughlin’s composite source did not consist of just any information, it was a trove of incidental details! Relegated to a catalogue of filler material, the bishop has been irreparably fractured, and in the end, it is difficult to square O’Loughlin’s presentation of Arculf as a multiplesourced, literary fiction with the argument that the figure functions as an expert eyewitness. While O’Loughlin presents a sceptical reading of the text, the study’s attention to the seventh-century provenance of Adls’ commemorative details and the pilgrim credentials of the bishop has exposed the idea of Arculf as Adomnán’s literary creation to be a scholarly fiction. In sum, two dynamics characterize O’Loughlin’s approach to Arculf. The first is a disregard for the principle of Occam’s Razor. Over and again, O’Loughlin eschews straightforward explanations for more complicated and less credible scenarios. While Adomnán is upheld as the author of a sophisticated theological treatise, we are cautioned not to trust in a literal reading of the text. Secondly, a significant number of questions are not adequately addressed. How did the empirical facts find their way to the Iona library? How did the seventh-century material reach Iona, and how did Arculf become a ‘composite of many pieces of information from different sources’? A fractured Arculf exemplifies the scholarly overreach that characterizes aspects of O’Loughlin’s research. O’Loughlin’s dismissal of Arculf invites us to reconsider the bishop’s contributions to the text. Arculf was Adomnán’s primary source and dialogue partner on various subjects of Holy Land interest. Adomnán took notes with the obvious intention of creating a formal composition. Therefore, Arculf was aware that he was not simply recounting his adventures; he was sharing information that would eventually be placed on parchment. Along with the contents of the report, the two churchmen almost certainly discussed the composition itself, and Arculf likely made suggestions that subsequently made their way into the text. According to Adomnán, it was Arculf ’s idea to restrict the contents of the intramural city to focus on the Holy Sepulchre, thereby, fashioning an image of New Jerusalem. The point hints at the collaboration that took place in the formative process of the work. That Adomnán checked his authorities, inserted additional written sources and elaborated upon various points of interest is evident. The final composition was in the

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Appendix 2

hands of Adomnán, and what he ultimately put to parchment included a mix of faithful reporting, creative redacting and sophisticated exegesis.162 Recognizing the contributions of Arculf, the abbot’s admiration of the bishop is expressed throughout the text, and despite efforts to the contrary, the integrity of Arculf is alive and well thanks to the scholarship of Adomnán.

A2.8. Conclusion The above critique has refuted O’Loughlin’s threefold argument of Adls as exegetical manual, Adomnán as a work-alone exegete and Arculf as literary fiction. The review concludes by readdressing some of the general issues characterizing his research.163

O’Loughlin’s Approach to the Text Concentrating on the exegetical concerns of Adls, O’Loughlin’s research lacks the necessary breadth to substantiate his comprehensive claims upon the text. While focusing on Adomnán’s literary source material, he does not compare Adls with other post-Byzantine pilgrim texts. In short, O’Loughlin never adequately pursues Arculf, relying upon anecdotal evidence, perceived problems and peripheral questions rather than a thorough topographical methodology. Asserting that there is ‘very little information [in Adls] that cannot be located within the sources [Adomnán] had at his disposal at Iona’, O’Loughlin adds that ‘short of a line-by-line commentary on the text, this claim can only be exemplified’.164 O’Loughlin’s research contains charts and certain parallel sequences; however, an outline of the exegetical concerns and literary sources for each chapter is critically absent. His findings centre upon a

162 It seems likely that Arculf was absent when Adomnán actually wrote the text, a conclusion based upon small errors and confusions in Adls. Arculf does not seem to have proofread the text. 163 The critique has not addressed two additional features of Adls that O’Loughlin likewise fails to consider. What is the source of the manuscript drawings of the four Holy Land churches? Secondly, how does one account for the figure of Peter of Burgundy? Why would Adomnán go to the trouble of creating a fictional guide for a fictional pilgrim? Cf. appendix 3. The manuscript drawings and the enigmatic solitary are part of Arculf ’s accumulative credibility. 164 TOL (2007), 34.

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Appendix 2

dozen exegetical examples that are spread over some sixty chapters of the text. He never presents a comprehensive argument. O’Loughlin’s approach to Adls is characterized by a mistrust of the literal text that fails to take the abbot at his word. He rejects Adomnán’s depiction of the bishop, while arguing that the text’s abundant references to Arculf are suspicious indications of his non-existence. At some point, the question becomes less about the existence of Arculf and more about the credibility of Adomnán. O’Loughlin fails to notice certain literary markers in the text. He overlooks Arculf ’s statement that the description of intramural Jerusalem will be limited to the buildings of the Holy Sepulchre. He likewise ignores Adomnán’s comment that Book 1 will not include the writings of other authors that do not add to Arculf ’s report, which signals a distinction between Jerusalem and rest of the text regarding the proportionality of the source material. For all that O’Loughlin does to champion the abbot, he has little faith that Adomnán meant what he wrote. Finally, O’Loughlin’s approach to Adls is characterized by a zerosum reckoning between the text’s two key figures – Adomnán is championed at the expense of Arculf. While O’Loughlin has raised the profile of Adomnán, his case against Arculf often diminishes the abbot in the process. O’Loughlin blames the source without considering the compositional process, and he champions Adomnán as author void of the responsibilities that come with the role. If there is a problem with Arculf, there is also a problem with Adomnán. If alarming inconsistencies are arguments against the existence of Arculf, these same mistakes become the responsibilities of Adomnán. By contrast, the picture of Adomnán engaged in collegial discussions with a bishop of Holy Land experience elicits an image of the abbot as a competent theologian. The achievements of Adomnán as author and exegete are more securely established by embracing the contributory role of Arculf. Collaborative discourse rather than isolated scholarship was the abbot’s strength, and Adomnán’s status is logically linked with the welfare of Arculf. However Arculf reached the British Isles, he and Adomnán are figuratively in the same boat.

The Role of Jerusalem Tradition O’Loughlin’s research is characterized by a shift from Jerusalem to Iona: ‘Adls reflects a host of complex relationships between its author / audience, their community memory, their religious imagination and

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Appendix 2

the external world’.165 O’Loughlin’s research likewise shifts attention from Arculf to Adomnán: ‘whether or not [Adls] allows us to get a view of seventh-century Palestine, it certainly allows us to enter the mental landscape of a seventh-century Latin theologian’.166 While O’Loughlin’s ‘view from Iona’ has provided some interesting insights into Adls, an adequate Jerusalem perspective is critically missing from his work. Along with the absence of a topographical methodology, his work denies the influence of Jerusalem tradition upon the text. O’Loughlin advocates an exegetical process in which Adomnán’s Holy Land source material was limited to Scripture and the patristic writings. In doing so, he fails to consider the rich body of information that emanated directly from the Holy Land via the medium of returning pilgrims. Not only was Jerusalem the setting of the holy sites, through its local Christian community and its continued influx of pilgrims, the Holy City was a sacred keeper of Christian tradition and a contemporary font of theological activity. Ideas and images emanated from the sacred centre of Christendom. A pilgrim such as Arculf, who sojourned for nine months in the city, became an active participant in the city’s Christian community. The holy sites were interpreted for him by monastic tour guides and various members of the Christian community. Each site told a story and expressed its theology through a combination of its physical setting, spatial arrangement and architectural design. Pilgrims learned the sacred legends and miraculous stories associated with the Holy City, and upon leaving the Holy Land, pilgrims, such as Arculf, had a sharper sense of the details of Scripture while instinctively grasping the interaction of place and theology. As a conduit of Jerusalem tradition, Arculf could talk theology and tell a good story. There was a reason why returning pilgrims had an honorific status within their home communities.

165 TOL (2007), xiv. The study accepts that Adls represents a theological discourse between Adomnán and his readership. However, the core material of Adls is a pilgrim’s account of the Holy Land in the late seventh century, and the concerns, interests and perspectives of Iona expressed in the text are largely those forged from the body of Arculf ’s report. While Adomnán may have been occupied with certain scriptural questions before encountering Arculf, very little of Adls, particularly Book 1, contains points of interests that were not evoked by the pilgrim material. 166 TOL (2007), xiv. As previously discussed, O’Loughlin’s reference to the ‘view of seventh-century Palestine’ implies information on the socio-political conditions of the region, which misjudges the nature of pilgrim texts. Rather, Adls’ ‘view of seventhcentury Palestine’ is the detailed picture that it provides of the Christian holy sites.



Appendix 2

When Adls is depicted in terms of an isolated scholar on the edge of the known world sifting through the parchments of his monastic library, the influence of Jerusalem tradition upon the formation of the text needs to be readdressed. Arculf ’s collaborations with Adomnán involved the transfer of commemorative details, theological interpretations and miracle stories that had come directly from the Holy City, and it is precisely this encounter between the contemporary tradition of Jerusalem and the patristic tradition of the Latin West that characterizes Adomnán’s engagement with the text. The study recognizes Adomnán’s informed dialogue with the fathers of Latin Christianity, one which O’Loughlin has richly presented in his research; however, Adomnán’s encounter with contemporary Jerusalem, albeit through the means of another Latin pilgrim, is considerably more evocative. How Adomnán engaged Arculf ’s report on the Holy City from the perspective of a Latin Christian living on Iona is one of the most intriguing – and still remaining – questions of the text.

The Theological Acumen of Adls While O’Loughlin correctly views Adls as a significant exegetical work of pre-Carolingian Ireland, he does not recognize the text’s full theological richness. Adls, specifically Book 1, is an exceptional eschatological portrait of the city and one of the most unique theological works on pre-Crusader Jerusalem. O’Loughlin partially grasps the text’s eschatological imagery, discussing the importance of eschatology with respect to the annual baptism of the city, Jerusalem’s status as the centre of the earth and the church of the Ascension.167 He does not perceive the bigger picture – that the overall presentation of the intramural city has been manipulated to embody New Jerusalem, a templeless foursquare city in honour of Christ. For all of his work on the exegetical concerns of the text, O’Loughlin understates Adls’ theological sophistication. In sum, O’Loughlin’s research contains numerous insights into Adls, particularly with respect to the religious imagination of Adomnán’s world. His focus upon the ‘echoes of patristic exegetical problems’, however, has limited his perspective on the text. Convinced of certain 167 Cf. TOL (2007), 116-24. Also see TOL (2007), 169, which states that ‘Jerusalem was Christ’s city, is now the foretaste of the heavenly Jerusalem (e.g. the miracle of its annual cleansing) and is the place to which Christ will return as we see in the marvels, based on Act 1:11, surrounding the church of the Ascension. Hence it is Christ’s now in this interim Age, and consequently, the city of his followers’.



Appendix 2

premises, such as the text’s primary interest in exegetical issues and the respective roles of Adomnán and Arculf, many of O’Loughlin’s arguments have overreached the evidence. Adls as a book of books, Arculf as literary fiction and Adomnán as the author of a start-to-finish exegetical manual are obsolete positions. Adls is a sophisticated theological text, which, at its core, records Arculf ’s detailed descriptions of the commemorative topography of Jerusalem and the Holy Land.



APPENDIX 3 PETER OF BURGUNDY

Peter of Burgundy, ‘an expert on the [holy] places and an experienced soldier of Christ’, a monastic solitary who guided Arculf through ‘his journeys in these lands’, curiously appears in both Adls and Bdls.1 While the figure raises questions regarding hermits and the use of pilgrim guides in the Holy Land, the appendix examines the references with respect to the texts themselves and the scholarly debate on Arculf. Two points will be considered regarding Adls. First of all, through which of ‘these lands’ did Peter serve as Arculf ’s guide? We know that the area included the Lower Galilee as Peter is explicitly mentioned in the chapters on Nazareth and Mt Tabor. Did Peter also guide Arculf before and after the Galilee, or did he only accompany Arculf for a partial segment of his Holy Land journeys?2 The other clue in Adls is that ‘after this tour’, Peter ‘returned … to the lonely place where he had been living before’.3 Peter was not a resident of Jerusalem nor would Arculf have needed a permanent guide for his daily visits in the Holy City. It is possible, though, that Peter met Arculf ’s party while he was in Jerusalem for some reason and that he subsequently accompanied them to the Galilee where Peter was living as a hermit. For that matter, they may have met Peter at any holy site or monastery along the way, such as the great monastery of John the Baptist on the Jordan River.4 The one-way scenarios Cf.  Adls 2.27.5 and 2.26.5; Bdls 19.4. Although pilgrims texts do not generally refer to pilgrim guides, pilgrims relied upon the resident monastic communities to guide and interpret the holy sites; cf. JW (1999), 47; It. Eg. 12.3 and 14.2. We can assume that Arculf travelled as part of a group; regarding the example of Willibald, cf. VW 12, 28 and 30. 3 Adls 2.26.5. 4 Cf.  Adls 2.16.8. 1 2

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Appendix 3

place Peter in the role of the incidental point-to-point pilgrim guide. However, the statement that Peter ‘returned … to the lonely place where he had been living before’ more likely indicates that he joined Arculf for a portion of his travels that began and ended in the same location, suggesting a complete circuit for which Peter served as the start-to-finish guide. We can trace two such circuits consisting of Nazareth and Mt Tabor based upon Adls’ outline of Arculf ’s travels.5 The first is the comprehensive Jerusalem-to-Jerusalem itinerary that included Damascus and Tyre. Adls 2.30.2 states that Arculf departed the Holy Land by travelling directly from Jerusalem to Joppa; consequently, Arculf returned to Jerusalem after Tyre. Peter could have guided Arculf on his entire tour of the Holy Land before returning to a lonely place, such as the Judean Wilderness near the Holy City. However, we can dismiss the idea for a number of reasons. Among other things, Arculf stayed several days in Damascus, something that Peter, who rushed Arculf through the Galilean holy sites, would not have suffered.6 The second and more likely possibility is that Peter’s services were limited to a mini-tour of the Lower Galilee, a scenario suggested by the fact that all references to Peter appear in and are limited to the two chapters describing Arculf ’s journey through the region. The sequence of the text is compatible with a circuit that began and ended at the northern end of the Sea of Galilee, an area containing multiple sites related to the ministry of Christ, including Capernaum and the Seven Springs, or Heptapegon, described in Adls 2.24-25. Arculf ’s party quite plausibly met Peter at a monastery in this area from where they began a tour of the Galilean sites.7 Arculf stayed two days and nights as a guest in Nazareth ‘but could not stay longer, because he was urged to move on by a solitary called Peter’.8 On Mt Tabor, the place of the Transfiguration, ‘Holy Arculf spent [only] one night as a guest on top of this holy mountain because Peter of Burgundy, the Christian man who guided his journeys in these lands, never allowed him to spend more time in any place than would suffice for a rapid inspection’.9 From 5 The discussion presumes a convergence between Arculf ’s travels and the sequence of the text. 6 Cf.  Adls 2.28.1 with 2.26.5 and 2.27.5. 7 Although Adls 2.24-25 does not explicitly mention churches and monasteries, VW 14 refers to a large number of churches in the area. 8 Adls 2.26.5. Arculf most likely visited the pilgrim site of Cana, located approximately 10 km from Nazareth, during his circuit of the Lower Galilee; cf. VW 13; Jn 2:1-10. 9 Adls 2.27.5.



Appendix 3

Mt Tabor, Arculf travelled to Damascus. On the way, they would have returned to the northern end of the Sea of Galilee, where the mini-circuit presumably ended with Peter resuming his eremitical lifestyle in the context of Jesus’ Galilean ministry. Peter does not seem to have played a major role in Arculf ’s Holy Land travels; the fact that he is mentioned at all reflects the memorable impression that he made upon the bishop. The second point has been covered in the study but bears repeating. The fact that Peter never allowed Arculf to ‘spend more time in any place than would suffice for a rapid inspection’ underscores the fact that he spent significantly less time at the sites beyond Jerusalem than he did in the Holy City.10 Arculf was an expert on Jerusalem but merely an attentive pilgrim regarding the greater Holy Land. Although his descriptions of the sites beyond Jerusalem retain an eyewitness quality, it is no coincidence that supplemental sources, which are sparingly used in the Jerusalem material, appear with some abundance in Book 2. We turn now to Bede’s reading of Adls and his subsequent depiction of Peter of Burgundy. While Adomnán recaps Arculf’s Holy Land journeys in both the preface and the conclusion of Adls, Peter of Burgundy, who only appears in the Galilee chapters of Adls 2.26-27, is not mentioned in the summary material. Bede, who writes the pilgrim Arculf out of the body of Bdls, does not introduce either Adomnán or Arculf until the penultimate paragraph of the text, which he does before immediately adding that Arculf’s ‘guide and also his interpreter was the experienced monk called Peter’.11 In other words, Bede essentially places Peter on the same footing as Arculf and Adomnán, the source and the composer of Adls, and having been promoted from the margins of Adls, Peter assumes a primary role in Bede’s account of Arculf’s travels. In the space of a single sentence, Bede has distorted the proportionality of Peter’s involvement while embellishing the details. Peter is no longer just Arculf’s guide; he is also his interpreter, a deduction that makes sense on the surface but is never mentioned in Adls. Since Bede provides no additional details, Peteras-interpreter is most plausibly explained as an embellishment. There is no reason to suspect that Bede knew anything about Peter outside of Adls. Peter of Burgundy provides an interesting case study on how Bede characterizes a figure described in Adls, suggesting that he likewise embellished his description of Arculf. Adls’ Peter was ‘an expert on the places and an experienced soldier of Christ’, who ‘guided [Arculf ’s] jour Cf.  Adls 2.26.5 and 2.27.5 with Adls preface. Bdls 19.4. Bdls 7.3 refers to Arculf as a source but not as a pilgrim figure.

10 11



Appendix 3

neys in these lands’. In Bdls, he becomes an experienced monk who was Arculf ’s ‘guide and also his interpreter’. The statement is plausible and perhaps true; yet, the material is elaborated in both substance and context. The only thing that Adls tells us about Arculf ’s background is that he was ‘holy bishop, a Gaul by race’. In Bdls 7.3, he is described as ‘bishop of the Gauls’, while in HE, a shipwreck accounts for Arculf ’s presence in the British isles. Bede’s descriptions of Arculf are plausible and perhaps true; yet, they appear to be elaborations based on Adls. Bede had a proclivity for elaborating the details of his literary figures, and while the provenance of the shipwreck story remains unclear, Bede’s testimony regarding Arculf must be treated with caution.12 Adomnán’s depiction of Peter of Burgundy also has a bearing on the Arculf debate. Peter made a significant enough impression upon Arculf that he mentioned him to Adomnán, who decided to include the figure in his description of the Galilean sites. Peter as pilgrim guide provides an added degree of competency to Arculf ’s subsequent report as he was accompanied by an expert pilgrim guide, who, despite his hurried demeanour, was presumably able to maximize Arculf ’s time at the holy places, to tell him stories along the way and to offer an inspirational example of a Western solitary living in the lonely places of Christianity’s most sacred landscape. While Arculf was an expert on Jerusalem, Peter was the ‘expert on the places’ beyond the Holy City. How does the scholarly position that questions the authenticity of Arculf account for the figure of Peter of Burgundy? If Adomnán created Arculf as a literary foil to give authority to his text, then what should we make of Peter? Was Adomnán’s ruse so complete that he created an experienced guide to mentor his fictional eyewitness expert, further pointing to the genius of the abbot’s literary creativity? Should we view Peter with the same suspicion? To the contrary, the case for Arculf and the reliability of Adls has been made throughout the study, and the figure of Peter of Burgundy is just one more instance in which the details of Adls are credibly aligned. The pilgrim journey is often characterized by its encounters with remarkable people who serve as temporary companions. The solitary fulfilled such a role for Arculf, leading the bishop on a relatively short but memorable journey through the Galilee. The figure of Peter of Burgundy is one of the many, richly-embedded details of the text that authenticates Arculf ’s Holy Land experience.

12

By contrast, Bede seldom embellishes the topographical material. See ch. 5.



ILLUSTRATIONS

Figures Fig. 1: Topographic Map of Jerusalem

Copyright © Leen Ritmeyer.



Figures

Fig. 2: Plan of Byzantine Jerusalem

From E. Stern (ed), The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (New York, 1993), vol. 2, p. 7769. By permission of the Israel Exploration Society.



Figures

Fig. 3: 1876 Ordnance Map of Jerusalem

The map is based upon the 1866 ordnance map by Charles Wilson.

Image courtesy of Simon Gibson.



Figures

Fig. 4. The Transmission of Sources

Fig. 5. Bede’s Walkthrough of the Holy Sepulchre



Figures

Fig. 6. Eucherius’ Image of Jerusalem

Fig. 7. Adomnán’s Image of Intramural Jerusalem with Temple



Figures

Fig. 8. Adomnán’s Image of Intramural Jerusalem

Fig. 9. Adomnán’s Image of Jerusalem



Figures

Fig. 10. Bede’s Image of Jerusalem

Fig. 11. Bede’s Circuit of Jerusalem



Tables Table 1: Adls and the Post-Byzantine Sources

Table 1 compares Adls to the following sources: Sophronius, or Anacr. (c. 614); The Armenian Guide, or AG (c. 625); Epiphanius, or Hag. (bef. 692); Willibald, or VW (724-26); The Commemoratorium, or Comm. (c. 808); Bernard, or It. Bern. (c. 870) and Photius (bef. 895). Adls 1.1 1.2 1.2 1.2 1.2 1.3 1.3 1.4 1.5 Plan 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 1.10 1.11 1.11

Sites, Objects and Commemorations Temple Ruins / Saracen mosque Martyrium: Twelve columns Tomb of Christ: Cross on Tomb Tomb of Christ: Oil lamps Tomb of Christ: Measurements Stone before the Tomb Tomb of Christ: Interior of Tomb Church of Mary Chapel under Calvary Three Crosses Finding of the Holy Cross Chalice and Sponge Lance Head Cloth, or Sudarium Church of Mary’s Weaving Monument of the Miraculous Healing Centre of the World



Seventh-Century / PostByzantine Sources Hag. 5; It. Bern.12 AG 1 VW 18 VW 18; It. Bern.11 Photius 4 Anacr. 20.11-12; VW 18; It. Bern.11; Photius 6 Photius 3 It. Bern. 11 AG 3; Hag. 2 VW 18 AG 2; Hag. 3; It. Bern.11 Anacr. 20.50; AG 1; Hag. 3; Comm.1 Anacr. 20.50; AG 1; Hag. 3 Comm.1 Hag. 4 Hag. 4; VW 18 Anacr. 20.29-32; It. Bern.11

Tables

Adls 1.12 1.15 1.17 1.18 1.18 1.18 1.18 1.18 1.19 1.23 1.23 1.23 1.23 1.24 1.25

Sites, Objects and Commemorations Church of Mary’s Tomb

Seventh-Century / PostByzantine Sources Anacr. 20.95; AG 7; Hag. 25; VW 21; Comm. 10 Gethsemane grotto with four It. Bern.13 tables Tree of Judas Hag.10 Holy Sion: Last Supper Anacr. 20.59-62; Hag .7 Holy Sion: Dormition of Anacr. 20.63-66; Hag. 7; VW Mary 20; It. Bern. 12 Holy Sion: Pentecost Anacr. 20.55-58 Holy Sion: Stoning of It. Bern.12 Stephen Holy Sion: Stone of Hag.7 Scourging Aceldama Hag.10 Ascension Church: Round Hag .28; It. Bern.15 Shape Ascension Church: Open VW 21; It. Bern.15 Roof Ascension Church: Centre VW 21 Railing Ascension Church: Jesus’ Hag. 33 Footprints Tomb of Lazarus Hag. 30; Comm. 29; It. Bern. 16 Eleona Hag. 33; Comm. 24



Tables

Table 2: Simple Structure of Texts

Eucherius Opening Material (Mt Sion) Intramural Sites Jehoshaphat Valley

Adomnán Prologue

Bede Prologue Intramural Sites Mt Sion (Aceldama)

Transition

Intramural Sites Jehoshaphat Valley Mt Sion Transition

Mt of Olives

Mt of Olives

Transition Jehoshaphat Valley Mt of Olives

Table 3: Detailed Structure of Texts

Eucherius Intramural Jerusalem Holy Sion Holy Sepulchre Temple Pool of Bethesda Spring of Siloam

Adomnán Intramural Jerusalem (Temple) Holy Sepulchre

End of Intramural Jerusalem

End of Intramural Jerusalem

End of Jerusalem as Mt Sion Band Adjacent to City Walls



Bede Intramural Jerusalem Holy Sepulchre, pt 1 Temple Pool of Bethesda Spring of Siloam Holy Sion Holy Sepulchre, pt 2 (column) End of Intramural Jerusalem Tree of Judas Aceldama End of Jerusalem as Mt Sion Cloth Relics Transition Beyond Jerusalem

Tables

Eucherius Jehoshaphat Valley

Transition Beyond Jerusalem Mt of Olives

Adomnán Jehoshaphat Valley (East Gate) Mt Sion (West Gate) Transition of Adls 1.20 Mt of Olives

Bede Jehoshaphat Valley

Mt of Olives

Table 4: Prologue and Intramural Material

Eucherius Opening Material Expansion 1 Mt Sion Holy Sion Gates of Jerusalem

Adomnán Prologue Gates and Walls Temple Baptism of Jerusalem

Intramural Jerusalem Holy Sepulchre Temple Pool of Bethesda Spring of Siloam

Intramural Jerusalem Holy Sepulchre

Jehoshaphat Valley Mt of Olives

Jehoshaphat Valley Mt of Olives



Bdls Prologue Expansion 1 Expansion 2 Mt Sion Gates and Walls Baptism of Jerusalem (topography only) Intramural Jerusalem Holy Sepulchre (pt 1) Temple Pool of Bethesda Spring of Siloam Holy Sepulchre (pt 2) Mt Sion Tree of Judas Aceldama The Cloth Relics Head Cloth of Christ Woven Cloth of Mary Jehoshaphat Valley Mt of Olives

Tables

Table 5: The Extramural Material

Eucherius

Adomnán Jehoshaphat Valley Church of Mary’s Tomb Tower of Jehoshaphat Tombs of Simeon/ Joseph Grotto of Gethsemane Mt Sion Tree of Judas Holy Sion Aceldama

Bede

Mt Sion Tree of Judas Aceldama [The Cloth Relics] Head Cloth of Christ Woven Cloth of Mary

Jehoshaphat Valley Gehenna Brook Kidron Transition (Around Jerusalem)

Mt of Olives Church of the Ascension The Eleona

Transition (West/North of Jerusalem)

Mt of Olives Church of the Ascension Bethany/Tomb of Lazarus The Eleona



Transition (Promised Land) Jehoshaphat Valley Eucherius Material Tower of Jehoshaphat Tombs of Simeon/ Joseph Church of Mary’s Tomb Mt of Olives Church of the Ascension Tomb of Lazarus/ Bethany The Eleona

Tables

Table 6: Structure of Bede following Eucherius

Bede Topic Euch Notes 1.1 Mt Sion Topography/ 3 Bede flips Euch 2-3. Expansion 1 1.1 Hadrian/Expansion 2 Bede flips Euch 2-3. 2

1.2

1.3

2.1 2.1

Incorporation of Holy Sepulchre Walls and Gates

5

Bede relegates Holy Sion (Euch 4) to Bdls 2.6. Adls’ topographical elaborations of Euch 2, 9.

Adls’ baptism of Jerusalem (topographical material only) Northerly entrance into the city Martyrium

Theme of Euch 5/Alds prologue, pt 1.

Adls prologue, pt 2. 6 6

Adls implies an entrance through West Gate. From Euch: Constantinian magnificence. From Adls: Holy Cross legend.

2.1

2.1

2.1-2

Golgotha

Anastasis

6

6

Independent material: Helena. From Euch: Rock of Calvary. From Adls: Lamps, crypt under Calvary. From Euch: place of Resurrection. From Adls: Rest of the material. From Adls/Not in Euch.

Tomb of Christ (Exterior/Interior)



Tables

Bede Topic 2.2 Stone before the Tomb 2.2 Church of Mary 2.2 Lord’s Chalice 2.2 Altar of Abraham 2.3 Soldier’s Lance 2.3 Holy Sepulchre Topography 2.3. Temple

Euch Notes From Adls/Not in Euch. From Adls/Not in Euch. From Adls/Not in Euch. From Adls/Not in Euch. From Adls/Not in Euch. Euch: ‘outside Mt Sion’/‘ground rising north’. From Euch: lower city/eastern wall.

6 7

From Adls: Saracen mosque/ Prologue, pt 3.

2.4 2.4

2.5

Pool of Bethesda Spring of Siloam

Holy Sion

Independent material: Temple bridge. From Euch/Not in Adls. From Euch/Not in Adls

8 9

Independent material: Jerome reference. Placement differs from both Euch and Adls.

4

Intramural site on Mt Sion

2.6

From Euch: Monk cells, apostolic site, Pentecost. From Adls: Four commemorations plus diagram. From Adls/Not in Euch.

Column of Miraculous Healing

Bede’s return to Holy Sepulchre. ‘in the middle of city’.



Tables

Bede Topic 3.1-2 Mt Sion circuit

4

5.1

Euch Notes From Adls/Not in Euch.

West Gate/Fig Tree/ Aceldama Sudarium/Mary’s Woven Cloth

Transition

Extramural material as ‘proper Jerusalem’. Dislocated from Adls’ Holy Sepulchre material.

10

(survey of Promised Land)

5

6.1-2

6.3 6.3

Jehoshaphat Valley/ Gehenna

Marks ‘beyond Jerusalem–Mt Sion’. 9

(plus Adls’ sites in the valley) Church of the 10 Ascension

Tomb of Lazarus The Eleona

Placed after Bdls’ account of ‘proper Jerusalem’. Placed prior to Jehoshaphat Valley.

10

Incorporates Adls 1.20. Overview from Euch/sites begin with J’s tower. Concludes with Mary’s tomb (excluding grotto). Bede flips order of Euch with the Eleona. Referenced in Euch/contents from Adls. From Adls/Not in Euch. Bede flips order of Euch with the Ascension. Referenced in Euch/ abridgment based on Adls.



Tables

Table 7: The Holy Sepulchre Material

Eucherius

Martyrium Golgotha Anastasis

Adomnán [Plan of the Holy Sepulchre] Anastasis Tomb of Christ Stone before the Tomb Church of Mary Golgotha Martyrium (introduced) Altar of Abraham Lord’s Chalice Martyrium

Soldier’s Lance (portico) Head Cloth of Christ Mary’s Weaving

Bede

Anastasis Tomb of Christ Stone before the Tomb Church of Mary Golgotha Martyrium (introduced) Lord’s Chalice Altar of Abraham Martyrium [Plan of the Holy Sepulchre] Soldier’s Lance (portico)

Miraculous Healing

[Other Intramural Material] Miraculous Healing

Centre of the World

Centre of the World



Tables

Table 8: The Holy Sepulchre Material following Bdls 2.1-3

Eucherius Eastern End

Bede Eastern End

Bede Eastern End Miraculous Healing

Soldier’s Lance Portico of Martyrium Diagram Martyrium

Martyrium Altar of Abraham Chalice/ Sponge

Golgotha

Golgotha Church of Mary

Anastasis Place of Resurrection

Anastasis Tomb of Christ

Stone before Tomb

Western End

Western End

Western End

* Separated material/placed at the end of Bdls 2 ** Separated material/placed in Bdls 4



Adomnán Eastern End Miraculous Healing* Mary’s Weaving** Head Cloth** Soldier’s Lance Portico of Martyrium Martyrium Chalice/ Sponge Altar of Abraham Golgotha Church of Mary Stone before Tomb Tomb of Christ Anastasis Diagram Western End

Tables

Table 9: On the Temple

Placement in Text Magnificently Built Miraculous Pinnacle Temple on Mt Sion

Eucherius Intramural Sites Yes

Yes

Bede Intramural Sites No

Yes

No

No

Presumed: Mt Sion ascends from all directions. Lower city as slopes of Sion.

Yes: Mt Sion slopes to east wall. No: Mt Sion summit outside the city walls. Not Mentioned Yes

Yes: Mt Sion slopes to east wall. No: Temple Bridge

In Lower City

Yes

Saracen Mosque

No

Adomnan Prologue



Yes Yes

Tables

Table 10: Various Indices

Eucherius Mt Sion

Adomnán Bede The City Walls Mt Sion

Main Organizational Principle of the Jerusalem Material Southern Wall Extended (Eudocian Walls) Entrance into North Gate the City (explicit) Holy Sepulchre East to West Sequence Is the Holy No Sepulchre on Mt Sion? Mt Sion / Holy HS excluded Sepulchre from MS.

Shortened (Pre-Eudocian Line) West Gate (implied) West to East



Yes and No

Extended (Eudocian Walls) North Gate (explicit) East to West to East Yes and No

MS excluded from HS.

HS excluded from MS.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

I. Ancient and Medieval Authors Adomnán. De locis sanctis, ed. L. Bieler (CCSL 175), 183-234, trans. in Meehan (1958) and JW (2002), 167-206. Alexander the Monk. De Inventione sanctae crucis (PG 87.3), 4015-88. Armenian Guide, ed. M. Emin, Movsisi Kalankatuspwoy Patmutiwn Aluanip asxarhi (Moscow, 1860), trans. in JW (2002), 165-66. Armenian Lectionary of Jerusalem (Codex Arm. Jerusalem 121), ed. A. Renoux (PO 35), trans. in JW (1999), 181-92. Augustine. De doctrina christiana, ed. J. Martin (CCSL 32). Bede. De locis sanctis, ed. I. Fraipont (CCSL 175), 244-80, trans. in JW (2002), 216-30. ———. De templo, trans. in S. Connolly (Liverpool, 1995). ———. Historia ecclesiastica, ed. B. Colgrave and R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford, 1969). Bernard the Monk. Itinerarium Bernardi, ed. T. Tobler, Descriptiones Terrae Sanctae ex saeculo VIII, IX, XII, et XV (Leipzig, 1874), 85-99, trans. in JW (2002), 261-69. Bordeaux Pilgrim. Itinerarium Burdigalense, ed. P. Geyer and O. Cuntz (CCSL 175), 1-26, trans. in JW (1999), 26-34. Breviarius de Hierosolyma, ed. R. Weber (CCSL 175), 105-12, trans. in JW (2002), 92-93 and 117-21. Commemoratorium de casis Dei, ed. T. Tobler, Descriptiones Terrae Sanctae ex saeculo VIII, IX, XII, et XV (Leipzig, 1874), 77-84, trans. in JW (2002), 253-57. Daniel the Abbot. Wallfahrtsbericht, ed. K. D. Seeman (Munich, 1970), trans. in JW (1988), 120-71.

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Ousterhout, R. (1990) The Blessings of Pilgrimage, Urbana. Ovadiah, A and C. Gomez de Silva. (1981) ‘Supplementum to the Corpus of the Byzantine Churches in the Holy Land (Part I)’, Levant 13, 200-61. Paczkowski, M. C. (2005) ‘Gerusalemme: “Ombelico de Mondo” nella Tradizione Christiana Antica’, LA 55, 165-202. Peters. F. E. (1985) Jerusalem: The Holy City in the Eyes of Chroniclers, Visitors, Pilgrims, and Prophets from the Days of Abraham to the Beginnings of Modern Times, Princeton. Piccirillo, M. and E. Alliata (eds). (1998) The Madaba Map Centenary, 1897-1997, Jerusalem. Piganiol, A. (1945) ‘L’hemispairion et l’omphalos des lieux saints’, Cahiers archaéologigues 1, 7-14. Pixner, B. (1990) ‘Church of the Apostles on Mt. Zion’, Miskan 13, 27-42. Prawer, J. and H. Ben-Shammai (eds). (1996) The History of Jerusalem: The Early Muslim Period (638-1099). Pullan, W. (1998) ‘The Representation of the Late Antique City in the Madaba Map: the Meaning of the Cardo in the Jerusalem Vignette’, in M. Piccirillo and E. Alliata (eds), The Madaba Map Centenary, 1897-1997, Jerusalem, 165-71. Richardson, E. C. (tr). (1991) Eusebius: Life of Constantine, in P. Schaff and H. Wace, NPNF (repr.), 2nd series, vol. 1, Edinburgh, 481-559. Ritari, K. (2016) Pilgrimage to Heaven: Eschatology and Monastic Spirituality in Early Medieval Ireland (STT 23), Turnhout. Roberts, A. (tr). (1991) Supitius Severus: Sacred History, in P. Schaff and H. Wace, NPNF (repr.), 2nd series, vol. 11, Edinburgh, 71-122. Roll, I. (1995) ‘Roads and Transportation in the Holy Land in the Early Christian and Byzantine Times’, JbAC 20, 1166-70. ———. (1998) ‘The Roads in Roman-Byzantine Palaestina and Arabia’, in M. Piccirillo and E. Alliata (eds), The Madaba Map Centenary, 1897-1997, Jerusalem, 109-13. Runciman, S. (1955) ‘The Pilgrimages to Palestine before 1095’, in K. M. Setton (ed), A History of the Crusades, vol. 1, Philadelphia, 6878. Russell, K. W. (1985) ‘The Earthquake Chronology of Palestine and Northwest Arabia from the 2nd through the mid-8th Century ad’, BASOR 260, 37-59. Safrai, C. (1996) ‘The Centrality of Jerusalem: a Retrospect: Jerusalem – Truly the Navel of the World?’ in M. Poorthius and C. Safrai (eds), The Centrality of Jerusalem: Historical Perspectives, Kampen, 217-28.

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Saller, S. (1950) ‘An Ancient Church at Bethany’, CBQ 12, 400-04. Scarfe Beckett, K. (2003) Anglo-Saxon Perceptions of the Islamic World, Cambridge. Schick, C. (1888) ‘Pool of Bethesda. I. Recent Discoveries in Jerusalem’, PEFQSt, 115-22. ———. (1896) ‘The Church of the Ascension of the Mount of Olives’, PEFQSt, 310-27. ———. (1897a) ‘The Church at the Pool of Shiloah’, PEFQSt, 109-13. ———.(1897b) ‘The Site of the Ascension of our Lord’, PEFQSt, 114-15. ———. (1900) ‘Neue Funde am Bethesdateich in Jerusalem’, Mitteilungen und Nachrichten des Deutschen Palaestina-Vereins 6, 82. ———. (1902) ‘Notes and News’, PEFQSt, 1-9. Schick, R. (1988) ‘Christian Life in Palestine: During the Early Islamic period’, BA 51.4, 218-21 and 239-40. ———.(1995) The Christian Communities of Palestine from Byzantine to Islamic Rule: A Historical and Archaeological Study, Princeton. ———. (1999) ‘Christians in Jerusalem in the Early 7th Century AD’, in T. Hummel, K. Hintlian and U. Cormesund (eds), Patterns of the Past, Prospects for the Future: The Christian Heritage in the Holy Land, London, 219-230. Schneider, A. M. (1940) ‘Das Itinerarium des Epiphanius Hagiopolita’, ZDPV 63, 143-54. Schwartz, J. (1987) ‘The Encaenia of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Temple of Solomon and the Jews’, Theologische Zeitschrift 43, 265-81. Shoemaker, S. J. (2002) Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary’s Dormition and Assumption, Oxford. Sivan, H. (1988a) ‘Who was Egeria? Piety and Pilgrimage in the Age of Gratian’, HTR 81, 57-72. ———. (1988b) ‘Holy Land Pilgrimage and Western Audiences: Some Reflections on Egeria and her Circle’, CQ 38.2, 528-35. Smith, C. D. (1991) ‘Geography or Christianity? Maps of the Holy Land before AD 1000’, JTS, n.s. 42, 143-52. Smith, J. Z. (1987) To Take Place, Chicago. Smyth, M. (1986) ‘The Physical world of Seventh-Century HibernoLatin Texts’, Peritia 5, 201-34. Stemberger, G. (1998) ‘Jerusalem in the Early Seventh Century: Hopes and Aspirations of Christians and Jews’, in L. Levine (ed.), Jerusalem: Its Sanctity and Centrality to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, New York, 260-72.

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Whitby, M. (2000) The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius Scholasticus (TTH 33), Liverpool. Wightman, G. J. (1993) The Walls of Jerusalem: From the Canaanites to the Mamluks, Sydney. Wilken, R. L. (1992) The Land Called Holy, New Haven. Wilkinson, J. (1971) Egeria’s Travels, London. ———. (1972) ‘The Tomb of Christ: An Outline of its Structural History’, Levant 4, 83-97. ———. (1975) ‘The Streets of Jerusalem’, Levant 7, 118-36. ———. (1976) ‘Christian Pilgrims in Jerusalem during the Byzantine Period’, PEQ 108, 75-101. ———. (1977) Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades, Jerusalem. ———. (1978a) Jerusalem as Jesus Knew It: Archaeology as Evidence, London. ———. (1978b) ‘The Pool of Siloam’, Levant 10, 116-25. ———.(1981) Egeria’s Travels To The Holy Land: Newly Translated with Supporting Documents and Notes, 2nd ed., Warminster. ———. (1988) Jerusalem Pilgrimage, 1099-1185, with J. Hill and W. F. Ryan, London. ———. (1999) Egeria’s Travels, 3rd ed., Warminster. ———. (2002) Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades, 2nd ed., Warminster. Willis, B. (1928) ‘Earthquakes in the Holy Land’, Bulletin of the Seismological Society of America 18, 73-103. Wooding, J. (ed) with R. Aist, T. Clancy and T. O’Loughlin. (2010) Adomnán of Iona: Theologian, Lawmaker, Peacemaker, Dublin. Woods, D. (2002) ‘Arculf ’s Luggage: The Sources for Adomnán’s De Locis Sanctis’, Ériu 52, 25-52. ———. (2006-7) ‘Adomnán, Arculf, and the True Cross: Overlooked Evidence for the Visit of the Emperor Heraclius to Jerusalem c. 630?’, ARAM 18-19, 400-12. ———. (2010a) ‘On the Circumstances of Adomnán’s Composition of the De Locis Sanctis’, in J. Wooding (ed) with R. Aist, T. Clancy and T. O’Loughlin, Adomnán: Theologian – Law-Maker – PeaceMaker, Dublin, 193-204. ———.(2010b) ‘The Cross in the Public Square: The Column-Mounted Cross c. AD 450-750’, in Salvation in the Fathers of the Church: The Proceedings of the Sixth Maynooth Patristic Conference, Dublin, 16580.



INDICES

I. Sources a. Biblical References Gen 22:1-14 18, 81 Gen 35:19-20 27 Gen 48:7 27 Ex 16:29 27 Jos 3:4 27 1 Sam 10:2 27 2 Sam 5:7 55, 151 1 Kgs 8:1 55, 151 1 Chr 11:5 55, 151 2 Chr 5:2 55, 151 Ps 74:12 39, 131, 181 Is 33:16-17 77 Ez 5:5 70, 106, 122 Ez 38:12 70, 106, 122 Nahum 178 1 Mac 4:37, 60 55 1 Mac 5:54 55 1 Mac 7:33 55 Mt 4:5-7 59 Mt 5:13 178 Mt 6:9-15 26, 38

Mt 21:5 55 Mt 24-25 9, 38, 99, 142 Mt 24:1-2 72 Mt 26:18 89, 140 Mt 26:26-29 82 Mt 26:30-36 27 Mt 26:36 93 Mt 26:36-57 91 Mt 26:39 140 Mt 27:3-8 27, 96 Mt 27:29 39 Mt 27:60-66 78 Mt 28:2 78 Mk 11:1 99 Mk 11:12-25 26, 38 Mk 13 9, 38, 99, 142 Mk 13:1-2 72 Mk 14:12-16 89, 140 Mk 14:22-25 82 Mk 14:26-32 27 Mk 14:32 93, 140 Mk 14:32-53 91



INDICES

Mk 15:15 38 Mk 15:17 39 Mk 15:43-46 20 Mk 15:46 78 Mk 16:1-4 78

Jn 18:1 27, 140 Jn 18:1-12 91 Jn 19:1 38 Jn 19:2-5 39 Jn 19:25 78 Jn 19:29 82 Jn 19:31-37 82 Jn 19:38-42 20 Jn 20:1 78 Jn 20:19-30 55

Lk 1:26-38 20, 25 Lk 4:9-12 59 Lk 10:38-11:1-4 26, 38 Lk 11:2-4 38 Lk 13:4 151 Lk 19:29 99 Lk 21 9, 38, 99, 142 Lk 21:5-6 72 Lk 22:8-12 89, 140 Lk 22:14-20 82 Lk 22:39 27, 93, 140 Lk 22:39-54 91 Lk 22:41 40 Lk 23:50-53 20 Lk 24:2 78 Lk 24:10 78 Lk 24:50 27

Act 1:8 62, 69 Act 1:10-11 41 Act 1:11 18, 207 Act 1:12 27 Act 1:18-19 27, 96 Act 2 89 Act 2:1-4 55 Rom 5:12 79 Rom 9:33 55 Rom 11:26 55 1 Cor 11:23-29 82 1 Cor 15:21-49 79 1 Cor 15:22 79 Heb 12:22 55 Heb 13:12 37 1 Pet 2:6 55

Jn 2:1-10 210 Jn 4 18, 191 Jn 5 18, 39, 87, 129 Jn 5:2 60, 87 Jn 5:4 28 Jn 9 129 Jn 9:7,11 151 Jn 11:18 27, 99, 142 Jn 12:15 55 Jn 13 25

Apoc 14:1 55 Apoc 15:4 122 Apoc 21 7, 68, 73, 80, 106-7, 110, 122, 158-59, 193 Apoc 22:3 193

b. Ancient Sources Adomnán, De locis sanctis, cited throughout (see table of contents); manuscript drawings 65, 76-77, 81-82, 95-96, 99, 116, 125-27, 130, 135, 141, 144-46, 204, tables 1, 6-8

Armenian Guide 8, 13, 21, 24, 26, 2930, 38, 39, 40, 44, 47, 50, 62, 79, 82, 94, 166, 168, 182, table 1 Armenian Lectionary 47 Augustine, De doctrina christiana xv, xvi, 169-71, 172-75



INDICES

Bede, De locis sanctis, cited throughout (see table of contents); manuscript drawings 116, 126-27, 130, 141, 145-46, fig 5, tables 6-8 Bede, Historia ecclesiastica 3, 66, 199, 200, 211 Bernard the Monk, Itinerarium Bernardi 18, 25, 39, 40, 47, 78, 83, 92, 104, 166, 192, 201, table 1 Bordeaux Pilgrim, Itinerarium Burdigalense 26, 38, 59, 60, 69, 91, 129, 165, 176, 177, 178 Breviarius de Hierosolyma (all recensions) 13, 19, 34, 36, 38, 39, 59, 62, 83, 104 Cambrai Map 26, 87 Commemoratorium 9, 38, 46, 86, 100, 104, 165, 182, table 1 Daniel the Abbott, Wallfahrtsbericht 19, 20, 26, 32, 84 Egeria, Itinerarium Egeriae 5, 70, 192, 201, 209 Epiphanius, Hagiopolita 5, 9, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 28, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38, 40, 47, 75, 79, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 92, 94, 100, 104, 165-66, 168, 176, 182, table 1 Eucherius, Epistula ad Faustum Presbyterum, cited throughout (see table of contents) Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica xv Eusebius, Onomasticon 13, 170 Eusebius, Vita Constantini 70 Evagrius Scholasticus, Historia ecclesiastica 53 Georgian Lectionary 70-71 Gregory the Great, Dialogi 69 Hugeburc, Vita Willibaldi 5, 9, 13, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 28, 29, 30, 31, 35, 36, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 50, 69, 76, 78, 83, 85, 87, 94, 100, 104, 166,

168, 176, 178-79, 182, 187, 191, 192, 195, 197, 209, 210, table 1 Jerome, Commentariorum in Esaiam 129, table 6 Jerome, Commentariorum in Matheum 77, 138 Jerome, Epistula (46) 176 Jerome, Epistula (108) 14, 16, 23, 38, 170, 171, 176-77 Jerome, Epistula (129) 53 Jerome, Hebraicae quaestiones in libro Geneseos 80 Jerome, Liber Locorum 13, 60, 62, 80, 88, 96, 129, 134 Jerome, Second Preface to the Book of Chronicles xv John Rufus, Vita Petri Iberi 140 Madaba Map 5, 34, 39, 50, 83, 89, 103, 132, 159 Melito of Sardis, Paschal Homily 34, 83 Nikulas of Þverá, Extract from Nikulás of þverá 186 Origen, Commentaria in evangelium secundum Matthaeum 79 Paulinus of Nola, Epistulae 190 Photius, Amphilochia 78, table 1 Piacenza Pilgrim, Itinerarium 13, 15, 17, 20, 21, 25, 27-29, 38, 39, 47, 50, 60, 75, 80, 86, 91-92, 129, 165, 176, 178, 191, 195, 201 Protoevangelium of James 18, 20, 25, 38, 86 Sophronius, Sophronii Anacreontica 14, 25, 32, 36, 40, 78, 82, 83, 87, 92, 104, 165, 176, table 1 Sophronius, Vita Sanctae Mariae Aegyptiacae 17 Sozomen. Historia Ecclesiastica 14, 25, 32, 36, 40, 78, 82, 83, 87, 92, 165, 176, table 1 Sulpicius Severus, Chronicon 99, 124, 141



INDICES

Theodosius, De situ terrae sanctae 18, 25, 38, 46, 59, 70, 91, 140, 165, 177, 183, 195

Victorinus of Poitiers, de Pascha 131 Vindobonensis (MS 458) 76

c. Modern Authors1 Aist, R. xv-xvii, 5, 16, 20, 31, 32, 35, 40, 50, 70, 75, 83, 85, 94, 102, 167, 179, 186, 187, 192, 193, 197 Bahat, D. and C. Rubinstein 2, 54, 58, 88, 89, 95, 159, 198 Black, M. 70 Chatillon, F. 1 Delierneux, N. 69 Geyer, P. 53 Gibson, S. and J.E. Taylor 75 Hunt, E.D. 70 Janin, H. 70 Limor, O. 69, 71, 80, 158, 167 MacPherson, J.R. 117 Meehan, D. 69 Murphy-O’Connor, J. 5, 26, 50, 94, 187, 193, 197 Nees, L. 167

O’Brien, C. 128 O’Loughlin, T., cited throughout, including xv-xxi, 1, 3, 5-6, 8, 18, 53, 62, 64, 65, 66, 69, 73, 80, 96, 100-2, 113-5, 116, 117, 122, 143, 146, 148, 152, 154, 158, 163, 167-208 Peters, F.E. 70 Pullan, W. 50 Verdier, P. 50 Vincent, L.-H. and Abel, F.-M. 5, 20 Wilkinson, J. 5-6, 13, 20, 23, 32, 38, 40, 47, 53, 62, 67, 76, 77, 78, 100, 102, 103-4, 116-17, 126, 127, 130, 140, 163, 165, 166 Woods, D. 50, 69, 199, 202

II. People a. Biblical Names Abraham 17, 18, 29, 81, 126-27, 146, 152, 156, 165, tables 6-8 Adam 17, 20, 23, 79-80, 124, 156 Baal 138 Caleb 80 Christ, cited throughout David 11, 18, 24, 55, 74, 88, 95, 96, 121, 133-34, 145, 151, 178

Elijah 17 Herod the Great 176 Isaac 18, 81, 165 Jacob 15, 18, 68, 191, 196 Jebusites 54 Jesus, cited throughout John the Baptist 17-18, 209 Joseph of Arimathea 5, 20

The index of modern authors excludes most biographical references in the notes.

1



INDICES

Joseph, patriarch 80 Joseph, spouse of Mary 5, 20, 23, 24, 35, 36, 50, 84, 86, 91-92, 138-39, 145, 165, table 5 Judas Iscariot 17, 18, 24, 25, 27-28, 39, 91, 95, 96, 133, 136, 145, 149, 151, 152, 176, 197, 198, tables 1, 3-5 Lazarus 20, 27, 61, 77, 99, 141-43, 152, tables 1, 5-6 Mary, mother of Jesus 5, 9, 10, 18-23, 29-36, 38-40, 43, 46, 50, 74-75,

77-78, 84, 86-87, 89, 91-95, 110, 126-27, 129-30, 134-35, 138-40, 152, 156, 165-66, 189-91, 193, tables 1, 4-8 Michael, archangel 10 Peter 24 Pontius Pilate 24, 26, 32, 38 Rachel 18, 27, 101, 178, 179, 181-82, 195 Samaritan Woman 18 Simeon 9, 92, 138-39, 145, table 5

b. Historical Names Adomnán of Iona (abbot and author, d. 704), mentioned throughout Agrippa, Herod I (king of Judea, d. 44) 37, 119 Aldfrith of Northumbria (king, d. 705) 3 Arab, conquest of Jerusalem (636-38) 94, 188 Arculf (bishop and Holy Land pilgrim, fl. 680), mentioned throughout Armenians 33 (see Armenian Guide and Armenian Lectionary) Augustine of Hippo (bishop and scholar, d. 430) xv-xvi, 3, 168-75, 179, 181, 185, 201 Bede (monk and scholar, d. 735), mentioned throughout Bernard the Monk 78, 92, 104, 192, 201, table 1 (see Itinerarium Bernardi) Byzantine period and sources (discussed throughout), specific references 8, 9, 13, 26, 28, 32, 36, 38, 39, 46, 54-55, 56, 86-89, 92, 94, 104, 156, 165, 183-84, fig 2; post-Byzantine period and sources xix, 6, 7, 8, 9-10, 26, 38,

43, 46, 47, 49-50, 71, 94, 103, 105, 156-57, 158, 165-66, 168, 181, 182, 184, 192, 197, 204, table 1 Constantine (emperor, d. 337), including references to the basilica of Constantine 8, 10, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 32, 35, 36, 58, 75, 81, 84, 85, 123-24, 126, 156, 166 Crusader period and sources 5, 8, 13, 26, 36, 38-39, 84, 87, 163; preCrusader period and sources 5, 16, 25, 30, 38-39, 67-68, 77, 104, 105, 108, 163, 177, 207 Early Islamic period and sources (discussed throughout), specific references xiv, 5, 8, 13, 25, 25, 28, 32-33, 36, 40, 44, 46, 87, 89, 94, 100, 104, 156, 157, 159, 166 Egeria (pilgrim, fl. 380) 70, 192, 201 (see Itinerarium Egeriae) Eucherius (bishop and scholar, d. 449), mentioned throughout Eudocia (empress, d. 460) 53, 54, 57, 58, 88-89, 96, 151, table 10 Greek church, culture and language (discussed throughout), specific references xv, 31, 33, 83, 94, 165



INDICES

Gregory the Great (pope and scholar, d. 604) 69 Hadrian (emperor, d. 138) 37, 53, 119-20, 148, 151, table 6 Hegesippus (chronicler, d. 180) 68, 170 Helena (empress, d. ca. 330) 10, 17, 19, 34, 37, 70, 81, 84, 124, 144, table 6 Helena (queen of Adiabene, d. ca. 50) 23 Heraclius (emperor, d. 641) 94 Hugeburc (nun and author of Vita Willibaldi, fl. 780) 13, 43 Insular World (of Britain and Ireland) and Irish Christianity, 2-4, 162-63, 167-68 Isidore of Seville (bishop and scholar, d. 636) 168 Jerome (priest and scholar, d. 420) xv-xvi, 3, 13, 14, 16, 20, 23, 38, 53, 62, 67, 68, 77, 80, 87, 129, 136, 138, 168, 169-71, 176, table 6 Jews 10, 11, 19, 27, 70, 73, 94-95, 131, 134, 163, 187 Juvencus (4th-century priest and poet) 67, 95, 133 Latin church, culture and language (discussed throughout), specific references xvi, xix, xx, 13, 31, 33, 70, 83, 94, 115, 154, 167-69, 171, 187, 206-7

Mary the Egyptian (ascetic, d. 421) 17, 20, 84, 156 Mu‘āwiya b. Abī Sufyān (caliph, d. 680) 3, 73, 115, 134, 187 Muslims 3, 16, 70, 72-73, 105, 108, 128, 134, 161, 187, 193 Paula (companion of Jerome, d. 404) 16, 23, 171, 176 Paulinus of Nola (bishop, d. 431) 190 Persians, including Persian Conquest 26, 33, 46, 94, 99, 100 Peter of Burgundy (monastic figure in Adls, fl 680), 8, 66, 204, 209-12 Piacenza Pilgrim (Holy Land pilgrim, fl. 570)13, 21, 25, 27, 29, 39, 50, 91, 178, 201 (see Itinerarium) Roman culture 10, 53 Sabas (Holy Land monk, d. 532) 20 Saracens (see Muslims) Sophronius (author and patriarch of Jerusalem, d. 638) 14, 17, 25, 32, 36, 40, 78, 82, 83, 87, 92, 104, 165, 176, table 1 Sulpicius Severus (scholar, d. 425) 67, 99, 124, 141, 158 (see Chronicon) Titus (emperor, d. 81) 37, 53, 119 Willibald of Eichstätt (bishop and Holy Land pilgrim, d. 787) xvi, xx, 13, 16, 18-19, 21, 23, 28, 29-31, 35-36, 37, 42-47, 69, 76, 83, 85, 87, 94, 100, 104, 166, 176, 178, 182, 187, 192, 197, 209, table 1 (see Vita Willibaldi)



INDICES

III. Places a. The Holy Sepulchre2 Abraham, altar of 17, 18, 29, 81, 126-27, 146, 152, 156, 165, fig 5, tables 6-8 Abraham, monastery of 165 Adam, tomb of 17, 20, 23, 79-80, 156 Aedicule (see tomb of Christ) Anastasis (including Rotunda) 8, 9, 21, 22, 29, 41, 58, 61, 74, 75, 76, 78, 81, 82, 99, 106, 108, 123, 12526, 127, 152, 156, figs 5, 6, 9-11, tables 6-8 (see tomb of Christ) Annunciation, Jerusalem tradition 9, 20, 25-26, 38, 50, 86, 156 (see Joseph, house of and Mary’s Weaving) Basilica of Constantine (see Martyrium) Calvary (see Golgotha) Centre of the world 2, 10, 14, 17, 25, 29, 34, 36, 40, 72, 83, 106, 131, 156, 160, 166, 180-81, 186-87, figs 7-8, tables 1, 7; marked by the summer solstice 106 Chalice, of the Lord’s Supper 29-30, 38, 81-82, 114, 126, 127, 146, 152, 190, 191, 193, fig 5, tables 1, 6-8 Christ’s head cloth 29, 31, 74, 83, 8587, 94, 107, 118, 127, 134-38, 144, 147, 149, 153, 160, 165, 186, 191, figs 5, 10, tables 1, 3-8 Cross, legend of the Holy (or True), including the relic of the True Cross 8-9, 10, 17, 18-19, 33, 34, 37, 39, 58, 70-71, 75, 81, 84-85, 94, 124, 131, 144, 156, tables 1, 6

(see Martyrium and Miraculous Healing); restoration of the True Cross in 629 by Heraclius 94 Encaenia or dedication festival, including feast of the Holy Cross 70-73, 107, 186 front (eastern) entrance 58, 75, 84, 85, 123-24, 126, 132, 156, 160, 197, figs 5-6, 10-11 (see Martyrium, portico) Golgotha (including Calvary) 8, 9, 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 26, 32, 37, 39, 40, 41, 44, 58, 61, 75, 77, 78-81, 85, 98, 123-7, 131-2, 145, 148, 150, 152, 153, 156, 160, 165, 170, 202; as the place of the Crucifixion 17-18, 23, 26, 36, 39-40, 58, 75, 79, 81, 83, 84, 103, 124, figs 5, 6, 9-11, tables 1, 6-8 Holy Sepulchre, known as the place of ‘the Cross / Crucifixion / Passion and Resurrection’ 6, 8-9, 33, 64, 72, 73, 75, 85, 106, figs 7, 8 inner atrium or courtyard 76, 78, 79, 81, fig 5 Joseph, house of 5, 20, 23, 24, 35, 36, 50, 84, 86, 165 (see Mary’s Weaving) Martyrium 8, 10, 21, 22-24, 26, 32, 35, 36, 58, 61, 75, 81, 84, 85, 108, 123-24, 126, 127, 131, 135, 149, 152, 156, 166, figs 5, 6, 9-11, tables 1, 6-8; as the place of the Holy Cross 21, 32, 37, 58, 68, 75, 84-85, 124, 131, tables 1, 6; portico (also

The Holy Sepulchre is discussed throughout (see table of contents), individual features listed below. 2



INDICES

front, eastern atrium of Holy Sepulchre) 82, 127, 135, fig 5, tables 7, 8 Mary, church of (near Golgotha) 5, 9, 78, 126-27, 156, fig 5, tables 1, 6-8 Mary, girdle of 20 Mary, headband of 20 Mary’s Weaving, church and cloth relic of 9, 20, 29, 31, 34, 36, 50, 74, 83-86, 134-35, 107, 118, 127, 134-38, 144, 145, 147, 149, 153, 160, 165, 191, 193, figs 5, 10, tables 1, 3-8 (see Joseph, house of) Miraculous Healing, place, monument and column of the 5, 10, 19, 23, 24, 31-36, 39-40, 50, 74, 81, 8386, 94, 100, 110, 123, 127, 131-32, 135, 145, 149, 152, 155, 160, 165, 181, 197, figs 5, 9-11, tables 1, 6-8 (see Cross, legend of the Holy) Soldier’s lance 82, 127, 135, 193, fig 5, tables 1, 6-8

sponge, of the crucifixion 81-82, tables 1, 8 Sudarium (see Christ’s head cloth) Theotokos, icon of Mary 17, 20, 24, 35, 84, 86, 156 Tomb of Christ (including aedicule) 8, 16, 17, 21-22, 24, 29, 32, 39, 41-44, 47, 58, 69, 74-78, 80, 89, 98, 106, 110, 114, 123, 125-26, 135, 145, 150, 156, 159, 166, 176, 191, 202, figs 5, 7-11, tables 1, 6-8; as the place of the Resurrection 2, 8-9, 14, 20, 33, 37, 43, 58, 64, 69, 72-73, 75, 77, 85, 103, 105, 12, 125, 145, 178 (see Anastasis); stone before the tomb 78, 125, 166, fig 5, tables 1, 6-8; cross on top of tomb 41, 76, 125, 166, table 1 True Cross (see Cross, legend of the Holy)

b. The City of Jerusalem3 Absalom, tomb of 91 Aceldama (Potter’s Field) 24, 27, 9596, 103, 133-34, 136-38, 145, 149, 151, 152, 156, 176, 197-98, figs 9-11, tables 1-6 Aelia Capitolina, known as 37, 53, 97, 109, 119 Ascension, church or place of 3, 9, 17, 18, 21, 22, 29, 33, 41-47, 62, 69, 77, 94, 96, 98-103, 107, 110, 116-17, 137, 140-42, 143, 145, 150, 152, 156, 166, 186, 190-92, 202, 207, figs 6, 9-11, tables 1, 5, 6; footprints of Christ 41, 44-45, 98-99, 158, 191, table 1

‘baptism’ of Jerusalem 60, 70-74, 107, 109, 121-s2, 144, 146, 160, 207, tables 4, 6 Benei Hezir, tomb of 91 Bethany, 27, 61, 93, 99, 101, 137, 142, 145, 152, 189, table 5; tomb of Lazarus 20, 27, 61, 77, 99, 141-43, 152, figs 9-11, tables 1, 5, 6 Bethesda, pool of (place of the Paralytic Healing) 7, 18, 22, 26, 28, 32, 33, 35, 36, 39, 41, 57, 59-60, 61, 68, 74, 80, 87-88, 104, 108, 117, 123, 128-29, 130, 132, 144, 147-50, 152, 153, 155-57, 159, 160, 161, 166, 182, 189, figs 6, 10,

Jerusalem and the Holy City are discussed throughout, individual features listed below. 3

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INDICES

11, tables 3, 4, 6; known as the Probatica 87, fig 2; known as the Sheep Pool 35, 87; as the nativity of Mary 32, 33, 87, 129, 166, fig 2 cardo maximus 35, 58, 75, 84, 89, 123, 152, fig 6 David, city of 11, 55, fig 2 David’s Gate 74, 88, 95-96, 121, 13334, 145, 178 (see West Gate) David, tower of 24, fig 2 Dome of the Rock 187 Dominus Flevit 60 East Gate (eastern gate) 10, 25, 28, 32-33, 35, 39-40, 50, 54, 57, 61, 74, 83, 87, 90, 94, 95, 97, 109, 110, 121-22, 151-52, 188, 197-98, figs 6, 9-11, table 3 Eastern city walls 23, 54, 57, 60, 61, 72, 109, 110, 121-22, 128, 132, 138, 150-52, table 6 Eastern Hill 11, 54-57, 60, 71, 89, 121, 129, 151, fig 1 (see Moriah, Mount and Temple Mount) Eleona, church of the 9, 26, 33, 38, 60, 62, 93, 99-101, 102, 104, 14044, 152, 156, 160, 189, figs 6, 9-11, tables 1, 5, 6; as setting of the Apocalyptic Discourse 9, 26, 38, 100, 102, 143, 144, 146, 160; as setting of the Lord’s Prayer 26, 38 Extramural Jerusalem, references throughout (see table of contents) Fig tree of Judas 17, 18, 24, 25, 27-28, 39, 95, 96, 133, 136, 145, 149, 151, 152, 176, 197, 198, figs 9-11, tables 1, 3-5 Gehenna 24, 60, 62, 138, 176, figs 6, 10, tables 5, 6 Gethsemane 9, 18, 23, 25, 26-28, 32-33, 39, 40, 77, 91-94, 101, 117, 138, 139, 140-41, 166, 189, 190, tables 1, 5; the church of

Gethsemane 9, fig 2; as the place of Jesus’ prayer or agony 9, 39, 40, 91, 93, 140, 166 (for the rock of Agony, see Mary’s Tomb); grotto of Gethsemane 23, 25, 28, 40, 77, 91-94, 101, 117, 138, 140-41, 144, 146, 160, 189, 190, fig 9, tables 1, 5; as the place of Jesus’ betrayal and arrest 9, 26, 91, 93, 140; as the setting for meals, including the Lord’s Supper 9, 18, 25, 28, 92, 140-41 Gihon Spring fig 1 Hagia (Holy) Sophia (see Wisdom, church of Holy) Helena of Adiabene, tomb of 23; as the so-called tomb of the Kings 23 Hinnom Valley 11, 22, 25, 27, 28, 60, 95-96, 133-34, 198, figs 1, 2 Intramural Jerusalem, referenced throughout (see the table of contents) Israel, pool of 26, 39, 87 Jehoshaphat, tower of 91-93, 138-39, 145, figs 9-11, tables 5, 6 Jehoshaphat Valley 9, 10, 11, 19, 22, 23, 32, 33, 40, 60-61, 65, 74, 9098, 101, 103, 110, 118, 121, 130, 136-40, 141, 147, 148-49, 152, 156, 158, 160, 162, 165, 197, figs 6, 9, 10, tables 2-6 (see Kidron Valley); tombs of the Jehoshaphat Valley 32 (see Joseph, tomb of and Simeon, tomb) Jephonias monument 5, 10, 19, 21, 31, 33, 35, 40, 43, 50, 83, 94, 156, 166 Jerusalem circuit, pilgrim route 3233, 87, 102-3, 156, 197-98 Jerusalem liturgy 44, 47, 70-71, 79, 192 Jesus’ trial before Pilate 26, 32, 38, 156, 166; at the church of Holy

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INDICES

Wisdom 26, 32, 38, 166; at Holy Sion 26, 38, 166; associated relics at Holy Sion 38 (see crown of thorns and column of Scourging) Joseph (spouse of Mary), tomb of 9192, 138-39, 145, figs 9-11, table 5 Khan el-Zeit Street 35, 84 Kidron, valley and stream 27, 60, 71, 108, 109, 121, 138, figs 1, 2, 9, table 5 (see Jehoshaphat Valley) lower city 23, 55-57, 59, 61, 109, 15152, 157, figs 6, 10, tables 6, 9 Mary, birthplace of (see Bethesda) Mary, Dormition of 10, 43, 139, table 1 (see Sion (Holy), the Jephonias monument, Mary’s Tomb and Mary’s funeral procession) Mary, funeral procession of 10, 18-19, 40, 94 (see Jephonias monument) Mary’s Tomb, church of 9, 10, 19, 21-23, 30, 33, 34, 39, 43, 46, 74, 77, 91-94, 110, 138-34, 152-53, 156, 189-90, figs 2, 9-11, tables 1, 5, 6; rock of Agony 39, 91, 139-40, 166, 191 Moriah, Mount 11, fig 1 (see Eastern Hill and Temple Mount) Mosque, Saracen (Noble SanctuaryTemple Mount) 70, 72-73, 128, 161, tables 1, 6, 9 Nea Church 5, 78, fig 2 New Jerusalem 2, 7, 15, 37, 43, 68, 69, 73, 80, 90, 100, 105-9, 117, 119, 146, 150, 152-55, 158-59, 161, 16263, 169, 182, 193, 197, 203, 207 Noble Sanctuary 3, 57 North Gate (northern gate) 5, 22, 39-40, 50, 54, 58, 59, 61, 83, 103-4, 110, 123, 149, 151-52, figs 5, 6, 9-11, table 10; as Damascus Gate fig 2. North Gate column 5, 22, 39-40, 50, 104

Northern city walls 57, 109, 110, 12122, 150-52 Olives, Mt of 9, 22-23, 26-27, 32, 33, 38, 47, 60, 62, 65, 90-93, 97-103, 109, 110, 118, 136-37, 139-43, 145, 148, 149, 152, 156, 158, 160, 162, 181, 197, figs 6, 9-11, tables 2-5 Ophel Hill 54; Ophel Wall fig 2 Pilate, palace of 24, 26, 38 (see church of Holy Wisdom) Portico of Solomon 25 Prison of Christ 24, 38 Siloam, spring, pool or church of 1, 24, 33, 55-57, 59-61, 69, 88, 103, 108, 117-18, 123, 128-32, 136, 144, 147-53, 158, 160-61, 166, figs 2, 6, 10, 11, tables 3, 4, 6 Simeon, tomb of 91-92, 138-39, 145, figs 9-11, table 5 Sion, biblical location of 11, 58, 89 Sion, church of Holy, 7, 10, 11, 19, 21, 22, 24, 25, 32, 36, 38-39, 46-47, 55, 57-58, 59, 61, 74, 77, 88-90, 92, 94, 95-97, 102, 104, 105, 110, 11617, 119, 121, 123, 129-31, 133, 136, 140, 144-52, 155-57, 159, 160, 182, 189, 191, 197-98, figs 2, 6, 9-11, tables 1, 3-6; as apostolic, mother church 46, 55, 60, 89, 95, 96, 150, 159, table 6; Lord’s Supper (Upper Room) 24, 25, 32, 38, 46, 89, 92, 95, 130, 140-41, 156; Pentecost 32, 46, 55, 89, 95, 156, table 1, 6; death (dormition) of Mary 10, 32, 46, 89, 94-95, 130, table 1; scourging, column or stone of 38, 46, 95-96, 130, 156, 191, table 1; crown of thorns, 38-39, 46, 156; the stoning of Stephen 46, 96, 130, 156, table 1 Sion, Mt (as Western Hill) 11, 24, 26, 27, 40, 47-48, 54-62, 71, 88, 90, 95-98, 103, 108-11, 117-22, 128-

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INDICES

34, 136-38, 145, 147-52, 157, 160, 162, 166, 170, 188, 197-98, figs 6, 9, 10, tables 2-6, 9, 10 Southern city gates(s) 95, 96, 110, 188, 198; gate on Madaba Map 89, 159 (see Tekoa Gate) Southern city walls (both late-Roman and Eudocian walls) 36, 53, 54, 57-58, 68, 88-90, 95, 96, 104, 110, 121, 145, 150-51, 159, 161-62, 166, 188-89, 198, table 10. Sultan’s pool 95 Tekoa Gate 198 Temple, Jewish, including Temple Mount 3, 7, 10, 11, 23, 32, 33, 48, 55-58, 60, 61, 68, 70, 72-74, 86, 87, 94, 100, 103, 105-11, 117, 119, 120, 122-23, 128-30, 132, 138, 147-53, 157-63, 207, figs 2, 6, 7, 9, 11, tables 1, 3, 4, 6, 9; bridge to upper city 128, 147, 151, fig 10, tables 6,

9; pinnacle of the Temple 59, 72, 161, table 9 Temple, Roman (at western forum) 10 Transversal Valley 57 Tyropoeon (or Central) Valley 11, 22, 56, 121, 128, 151, 157, 162, 188-89, fig 1 Via Dolorosa 35, 84 West Gate (western gate) 54, 57, 61, 74, 89, 90, 95, 97, 109, 110, 118, 121, 123, 132, 133-34, 145, 149, 151, 197-98, figs 6, 9-11, tables 3, 6, 10 (see David’s Gate) Western city walls 88-89 Western Hill 11, 54-57, 60, 71, 89, 121, 129, 151, fig 1 Wisdom, church of Holy 26, 32-33, 38, 199; Jesus’ trial before Pilate 26, 32, 38, 166,

c. The Holy Land Beersheba 136 Benjamin at Zelzah 27 Bethlehem 19, 21, 27, 137, 191, 195; church of Jesus’ nativity 3, 18, 19, 68, 191; David’s tomb 18; Rachel’s tomb 18, 27, 101, 178, 179, 181-82, 195 Caesarea Palaestinae 97 Cana 15, 210 Capernaum 210 Damascus 22, 196, 210-11 Dan 136 Dead Sea 22, 26, 176, 191, 195-96 Diospolis 50 Ephrath 27 Galilee 8, 26, 38, 64, 196-97, 209-11, 212; the Sea of 21, 22, 37, 195-96, 210-11 Gilgal 21, 191, 195

Hebron 21, 80, 101, 124, 195; tomb of Adam 80, 124; tombs of the Patriarchs 3, 21, 80, 124 Heptapegon (Seven Springs) 210 Jacob’s Well 15, 18, 68, 191, 196 Jericho 21, 101, 195, 196 Jesus’ baptism, site of (Jordan River) 21, 37, 41-43, 68, 179, 195-96 John the Baptist, the monastery of (Jordan River) 209 Joppa 97, 196, 210 Jordan River 17, 21, 37, 41-42, 191, 195-96, 209; river valley 26, 196; desert 84 Judea xv, 62, 69 Judean Wilderness 210 Lebanon 16 Mamre 21

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INDICES

Nazareth 25, 64, 68, 191, 196, 209, 210 Palestine 5, 30, 172, 177, 187-89, 206 Promised Land 136, 137, 149, 160, 162, tables 5, 6 Sabas, monastery of St 20 Samaria 62, 69, 196

Shechem 196 Syria 16 Tabor, Mt 21, 22, 64, 68, 192, 196, 209-10 Thamna 97 Tyre 97, 196, 210

d. Other Places Alexandria 178, 188, 192, 196 Athens xv Bordeaux 26, 77, 201 Britain or British Isles 199-200, 205, 212 Burgundy 8, 66, 204, 209-12 Constantinople 63, 68-69, 192; church of Hagia Sophia 68-69; liturgy and relic of the True Cross 68-69, 192 Europe 2, 175; as the Christian West 6, 69 Gaul 3, 66-67, 116, 199-200, 212 Iona 3, 43, 66, 147-48, 154, 159, 163, 169, 171, 173-75, 180-82, 192, 199-200, 202-7

Ireland 167-68, 198-99, 207 Lyon 53 Monza 78 North Atlantic 200 Northern Isles (British and Irish isles) 66 Northumbria 3 Piacenza 13, 21, 25, 27, 29, 39, 50, 91, 178, 201 Rome 69, 177, 192 Spain 201 Vulcano, island of Mt 63, 68-69, 176; as the Hell of Theodoric 69

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