Religious Associations in the Post-Classical Polis 9783515106467, 9783515108690, 3515106464

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Julietta Steinhauer

Religious Associations in the Post-Classical Polis

Alte Geschichte Franz Steiner Verlag

Potsdamer Altertumswissenschaftliche Beiträge 50

Julietta Steinhauer Religious Associations in the Post-Classical Polis

POTSDAMER ALTERTUMSWISSENSCHAFTLICHE BEITRÄGE (PAWB) Herausgegeben von Pedro Barceló (Potsdam), Peter Riemer (Saarbrücken), Jörg Rüpke (Erfurt) und John Scheid (Paris) Band 50

Julietta Steinhauer

Religious Associations in the Post-Classical Polis

Franz Steiner Verlag

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. Dieses Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. © Franz Steiner Verlag, Stuttgart 2014 Zugleich Dissertation an der University of St Andrews und dem „Max-Weber-Kolleg für kultur- und sozialwissenschaftliche Studien der Universität Erfurt“ Druck: Offsetdruck Bokor, Bad Tölz Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Printed in Germany. ISBN 978-3-515-10646-7 (Print) ISBN 978-3-515-10869-0 (E-Book)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank the School of Classics, University of St Andrews for awarding me a maintenance grant for two years to write the PhD-thesis on which this book is based. I would also like to thank the AHRC for granting me a fees-only award for the duration of the PhD. The Graduiertenschule Religion at the Universität Erfurt generously supported my nine-month stay at the Max-Weber-Kolleg in Erfurt. The Kolleg-Forschergruppe ‘Religiöse Individualisierung’ not only hosted me and provided me with a working space, but its interdisciplinary approach provided considerable inspiration to me. I would like to thank everyone who has inspired or supported me during this process: Marlis Arnold, Jon Coulston, Alice Koenig, Ioanna Patera, Rebecca Sweetman, Katharina Waldner and Wolfgang Spickermann all read chapters at different stages and their advice has been of great benefit. The generous audiences at the Max-Weber-Kolleg have helped much to improve the outcome of this book. Holger Schwarzer kindly provided me with images of the ‘Podiensaal’ in Pergamum and Janine Sempf with drawings of the Iobakkheion in Athens. Margaret Hogg was kind enough to read and comment on the whole at a final stage. Dan Hogg commented critically on the book’s contents throughout the whole process of writing. Furthermore I would like to thank John North, who, in his role as external examiner, encouraged me and gave me invaluable advice about writing this book. I owe a great debt of gratitude to Jörg Rüpke, who supervised me both during my stay at Erfurt and beyond with constructive criticism and intellectual generosity. Without the supervision of Greg Woolf, with his unmatched ability to spot weaknesses in argumentation, as well as his patience and encouragement over many years, this book would never have been possible. I cannot thank him enough for both his intellectual and mental support, his wit and kindness towards me. Richard Gordon read through the draft in minute detail, saving me from many a mistake when turning the thesis into a book. He not only helped enormously to improve my English but he also improved the quality of the contents. I can, however, lay claim to all errors that remain. Above all, I would like to thank my family. My brother and sister have been very supportive over the whole period of writing. My parents, although they did not live to see publication, always believed in me and this project and helped me in every possible way. Their memory continues to be a source of immense strength. The birth of my daughter and my son were a huge inspiration when completing this book. I owe them the ability to concentrate and to see things more clearly. Finally, I want to thank Dan again, who in times of massive doubt encouraged me to follow my ideas over and over again.

Für Hilde und Rainer

CONTENTS Acknowledgements .............................................................................................. 5 Contents................................................................................................................ 9 Abbreviations ..................................................................................................... 11 1. 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4

Introduction ............................................................................................ 15 Terminology ............................................................................................. 16 History of scholarship ............................................................................... 19 Materials, methods, structure .................................................................... 23 Leading ideas............................................................................................ 25

2. 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7

Athens – a case study .............................................................................. 27 Early evidence .......................................................................................... 29 The fourth century BCE, a century of orgeones associations .................... 30 Peak-time for religious associatons in Athens? ......................................... 36 Orgeones in Piraeus – The case of the dionysiastai .................................. 43 Decrease in evidence ................................................................................ 46 Early Roman Athens: new activities in the centre of the city .................... 47 Conclusion Athens .................................................................................... 48

3. 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7

Delos, a case study .................................................................................. 51 Religious associations worshipping the Egyptian gods ............................. 52 Religious associations worshipping at the ‘Sanctuary of the Syrian gods’.................................................................................... 57 The sanctuaries of the ‘Oriental deities’ and the Kyntheion ...................... 58 Religious associations to be linked with the ‘Synagogue’ ........................ 61 Other associations – the example of the poseidoniastai of Berytos .......... 65 The institutionalisation of the Delian sanctuaries ..................................... 66 Conclusion Delos...................................................................................... 68

4. 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4

The people: personnel and participants ................................................ 71 The Egyptian deities: a case sui generis ....................................................73 Groups worshipping other ‘new’ gods ...................................................... 92 Metic initiators, participants and office-holders ........................................ 99 Conclusion People, personnel, and participants ...................................... 107

5. 5.1 5.2 5.3

Architecture and archaeology .............................................................. 110 Epigraphic evidence of architectural structures ...................................... 110 Funerary sites ......................................................................................... 113 Religious associations in temples and sanctuaries .................................. 118

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5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7

Dining halls attached to temples ............................................................. 121 Free-standing assembly-rooms ............................................................... 127 Religious associations and public space ................................................. 136 Conclusion: architecture and archaeology .............................................. 138

6. 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4

Religious associations and civic institutions........................................ 141 Athens .................................................................................................... 142 Delos ...................................................................................................... 148 Rhodes .................................................................................................... 151 Conclusion Religious associations and civic institutions ........................ 158

7.

Conclusion ............................................................................................. 160

8.

Bibliography.......................................................................................... 166

Appendix I ........................................................................................................ 175 Appendix II ...................................................................................................... 184 The Jews in the Diaspora .................................................................................. 184 The Septuagint .................................................................................................. 185 General Index ................................................................................................... 186

ABBREVIATIONS Journals are cited according to the list of abbreviations published by L’Année Philologique, see: http://www.annee-philologique.com/aph/files/sigles_fr.pdf. All Greek inscriptions cited in the footnotes are taken from the PHI database of Greek inscriptions (http://epigraphy.packhum.org/inscriptions/). ABBREVIATIONS OF SERIES, JOURNALS AND LEXICA NOT FOUND IN L’ANNÉE PHILOLOGIQUE AAR = Journal of the American Academy of Religion GD 2005 = Philippe Bruneau/ Jean Ducat (edd.), Guide de Délos. Sites et monuments (4th ed.), Paris 2005 HO = Handbook of Oriental Studies RGRW = Religions in the Graeco-Roman world SHAW.PH = Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch–historische Klasse STAC = Studien zu Antike und Christentum ThesCRA = Thesaurus Cultuum et Rituum Antiquorum WUNT = Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament EDITIONS OF INSCRIPTIONS Ag. 16 = Woodhead, A. Geoffrey. Inscriptions. The Decrees. The Athenian Agora, 16. Princeton 1997 IApameia = Corsten, Thomas (ed.) Die Inschriften von Apameia (Bithynien) und Pylai, Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien vol. 32, Bonn 1987 IEph = Die Inschriften von Ephesos. 8 vols. in 9 parts, with a Supplement. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien, 11,1–17,4. Bonn 1979–1984. Vol. II, nos. 101–599, Christoph Börker and Reinhold Merkelbach (edd.) 1980; vol. IV, nos. 1001–1445, Helmut Engelmann/ Dieter Knibbe/ Reinhold Merkelbach (edd.) Bonn 1980; vol. V, nos. 1446–2000, Christoph Börker/ Reinhold Merkelbach (edd.) Bonn 1980; vol. VII,1, nos. 3001–3500, and VII,2, nos. 3501–5115, Recep Meriç/ Reinhold Merkelbach/ Johannes Nollé/ Sencer Şahin (edd.) Bonn 1981 IG I³ = David Lewis/Lilian Jeffery (edd.) Inscriptiones Graecae I. Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno anteriores. 3rd edn. Berlin 1981,1994. Fasc. 2, ed. Dedica-

12

Abbreviations

tiones. Catalogi. Termini. Tituli sepulcrales. Varia. Tituli Attici extra Atticam reperti. Addenda Berlin 1994 IG II² = Kirchner, Johannes (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae II et III. Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno posteriores, 2nd edn., Parts I-III, Berlin 1913–1940 IG X 2 1 = Edson, Charles (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae, X. Inscriptiones Epiri, Macedoniae, Thraciae, Scythiae. Pars II, fasc. 1: Inscriptiones Thessalonicae et viciniae, Berlin 1972 IG XI 4 = Roussel, Pierre (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae XI. Inscriptiones Deli, fasc. 4, Berlin 1914 IG XII 1,2,3 = Gaertringen, Friedrich Hiller von (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae, XII. Inscriptiones insularum maris Aegaei praeter Delum, 3. Inscriptiones Symes, Teutlussae, Teli, Nisyri, Astypalaeae, Anaphes, Therae et Therasiae, Pholegandri, Meli, Cimoli, Berlin 1898. Inscriptiones Graecae XII,3. Supplementum, Berlin 1904 IG XII 5 = Gaertringen, Friedrich Hiller von (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae XII,5. Inscriptiones Cycladum, 2 vols. Ios, Sikinos, Naxos, Paros, Oliaros, Siphnos, Seriphos, Kythnos, Keos, Gyaros, Syros, Andros and Tenos, Berlin 1903–1909 IG XII 9 = Ziebarth, Erich (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae XII,9. Inscriptiones Euboeae insulae, Berlin 1915 IGBulg IV= Mihailov, Georgi (ed.) Inscriptiones graecae in Bulgaria repertae, 5 vols. Sofia 1958–1970, 1997. Vol. 4. Inscriptiones in territorio Serdicensi et in vallibus Strymonis Nestique repertae, Sofia 1966 IGUR= Moretti, Luigi (ed.) Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae. 4 vols. in 5 parts, Rome 1968–1990 IMagn = Kern, Otto (ed.) Die Inschriften von Magnesia am Mäander, Berlin 1900 IKos = Segre, Mario (ed.) Iscrizioni di Cos. Monografie della Scuola Archeologica di Atene e delle Missioni Italiane in Oriente (6 and 6,2) Rome 1993 (6), 2007 (6, 2) ISmyrna = Petzl, Georg (ed.) Die Inschriften von Smyrna. 2 vols. in 3 parts. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien, 23 and 24,1–2, Bonn 1982, 1987 & 1990 IvP II = Fränkel, Max (ed.) Die Inschriften von Pergamon. 2 vols., Altertümer von Pergamon, 8, 1–2, Vol. 2, nos. 251–1334, Römische Zeit, Berlin 1890–1895

Abbreviations

13

IvP III = Habicht, Christian (ed.) Die Inschriften des Asklepieions. Mit einem Beitrag von Michael Wörrle, Altertümer von Pergamon, 8, 3 Berlin 1969 Kontorini 1983 = Kontorini, Vassa (ed.) Inscriptions inédites relatives à l’histoire et aux cultes de Rhodes au 2me et au 1èr s. av. J.-C., Louvain 1983 LSAM 1962 = Sokolowski, Franciszek (ed.) Lois sacrées des cités grecques. Supplément, Paris 1962 Maiuri NSER = Maiuri, Amedeo (ed.) Nuova silloge epigrafica di Rodi e Cos, Florence, 1925 RICIS = Bricault, Laurent (ed.) Recueil des inscriptions concernant les cultes isiaques (Mémoires de lʼAcadémie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 31) 2 vols., Paris 2005 SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. Hondius, Jacob E. (ed.) Vols. 1–11, Leiden 1923–1954; Woodhead, Arthur G. (ed.) vols. 12–25, Leiden 1955–1971; Henry W. Pleket/ Ronald S. Stroud (edd.) vols. 26–41, Amsterdam 1979–1994; Henry W. Pleket/ Ronald S. Stroud/ Johan H.M. Strubbe (edd.) vols. 42–44, Amsterdam 1995–1997; Henry W. Pleket/ Ronald S. Stroud/ Angelos Chaniotis/ Johan H.M. Strubbe (edd.) vols. 45–50, Amsterdam 1998–2000; Angelos Chaniotis/ Thomas Corsten/ Ronald S. Stroud/ Ralf A. Tybout (edd.) vols. 51–58 Amsterdam 2001–2008; Angelos Chaniotis/ Thomas Corsten/ Nikolaos Papazarkados/ Ralf A. Tybout (edd.) vol. 59, Amsterdam 2009

1. INTRODUCTION This book investigates a novel religious form that appeared in the Aegean world in Hellenistic and Roman times. The phenomenon was characterised by groups of people who met regularly and were primarily united by common rituals and the worship of a common deity. These groups differed from pre-existing forms in that they were neither based on pre-existing social entities such as families, nor on political and ethnic ones such as specific settlements or tribes, but primarily on shared ritual practice. Scholars have approached this topic from several directions. The oldest approach investigates the groups’ institutional novelty from a juridical-cum-legalistic perspective. In doing so, scholars encountered the difficulty of putting a name to the phenomenon, since ancient terms such as collegium and koinon were rather unspecific, and were applied to associations of various kinds: these terms were applied not only to groups of a primarily religious nature, but to others too, such as professional associations.1 Members of groups of all kinds occasionally took part in shared cult activity, a fact which makes it even more complicated to distinguish between them. Yet groups who met for purposes other than religious ones are, although similar in appearance, not the subject of this book. A series of modern terms have been devised by scholars with the intention of overcoming these terminological obstacles: new descriptions include ‘voluntary associations’ or ‘elective cults’, since membership in these groups appears to have been a matter of choice. Yet no agreed terminology exists. The term ‘cult’ to describe the groups as opposed to, say, ‘religion’ offers an unsatisfactory solution owing to its rather pejorative modern connotations and its lack of precision. A rough translation of the word collegium was introduced in the form of the German word Verein, which is used to describe the groups in a way that is just as vague as the ancient terminology. A second approach deals with the topic from a different angle. Instead of merely analysing the institutional form and the accompanying problems of terminology, scholars taking this line have focussed instead on the new forms of rituals observed by the members of these groups, and the ‘new’ deities worshipped by some of them.2 But there is no consensus over which of these various subjects should be regarded as the defining feature of the phenomenon. These subjects are firstly ‘new’ gods, such as Bendis, Isis and Mithras, secondly new ritual forms such as mysteria, and thirdly the emergence of apparently new institutions at the same time. These three aspects play a key role when it comes to religious associations. Yet they appear to be intertwined and inseparable and do not follow any fixed pattern, as is 1 2

The professional groups could be actors, craftsmen and traders; other groups which used the same terminology were groups of magistrates and priests. Some of the groups worshipped ‘traditional’ deities in a new way, with new ritual practices.

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1. Introduction

sometimes suggested.3 Some groups were devoted to the worship of the supposedly more ancient deities, such as Dionysus, occasionally including mysteria. Mysteria, however, originated in Greek religion and were adopted by worshippers of Dionysus as well as worshippers of the ‘new deities’ such as Kybele and Isis only at a later stage, if at all. And while some ancient gods like Dionysus were treated as new arrivals, some new arrivals like Isis had their antiquity stressed. In the end, many of the ‘new gods’ quickly became part of local panthea. Permission to build temples or sanctuaries was sometimes granted by the governing institutions, and the ‘new’ gods even obtained a place in the festive calendar. In this book I will attempt to build upon the work of both scholarly traditions, the institutional or juridical-cum-legalistic and the social-religious one. I will, however, contribute to the debate in three ways. First I aim to offer a new perspective on the subject based on the material remains that can be connected to the phenomenon. Second, the focus of this book is neither the introduction and worship of new deities, nor the appearance of new rituals and initiatory rites, but rather the emergence and nature of the communities of worshippers which shaped the phenomenon. In contrast to the juridical-cum-legalistic view, the subject of this investigation is to identify and analyse the groups as social entities which create a specific form of material cult that was shaped by both new ideas and older traditions from within the Mediterranean and beyond. The third innovative aspect of my approach is the synchronic comparative perspective of a group of cults, an aspect that to the best of my knowledge has been largely neglected by scholarship. The main focus of this study is on the social realities that lie behind the phenomenon rather than theological claims and rituals. 1.1 TERMINOLOGY Religioeser Verein, Cult-association, Voluntary association, Communauté religieuse are all used to describe a broadly similar phenomenon: groups of people who voluntarily gathered regularly, at a specific place to worship a common choice of deity. The foundation of such groups was not initiated by any civic authority but mostly by individual people. To be part of such a group sometimes required certain criteria. Depending on each formation, those criteria could be fulfilled by kinship, some groups automatically included wives and children; by gender, as in the case of Mithraists who appear to have only consisted of male members; to social status, excluding those who could not match the financial contributions necessary to be part of some groups. The minimum requirement, however, that all groups have in common, is the mutual worship of a specific but not necessarily exclusive deity. The variety of groups and their differing character is reflected in the large number of terms in use, both nowadays and in antiquity. Owing to its novelty in the ancient world, we cannot identify a clear terminology and categorisation, at least for the Hellenistic period, simply because it did not exist. For Hellenistic Greece no 3

See under 1.3 in this chapter, History of scholarship.

1.1 Terminology

17

evidence suggests that people thought of the groups that worshipped Isis, Dionysus and Jahveh as examples of the same phenomenon at all. Only much later, namely in the second century CE, one finds the awareness of such a phenomenon reflected in literary sources, for example in texts such as Apuleius’ Metamorphoses and Lucian’s Peregrinus. However, in order to set the limits of this study, some criteria must be defined in accordance with the epigraphic and literary remains. Like the Roman collegia that are referred to by about fifty different terms,4 members of religious associations in Greece and the East chose various names to represent themselves in inscriptions. Certain groups could appear in the epigraphic evidence for instance as koinon, thiasos, speira or synodos or, most ancient and almost exclusively in Attica,5 as orgeones. These names perhaps indicated different kinds of groups that were formed around a deity, although the actual differences represented by each term are not entirely clear to the modern observer. For further specification the terms could be supplemented with the name of a deity. In later times the term thiasos was sometimes combined with other descriptions and then mostly used by professional associations.6 Other groups that centred around a deity created their names by simply forming an agent noun referring to the main deity worshipped, as for example in the case of the dionysiastai, but lacking a group term such as thiasos, synodos or koinon. Yet other names describe an activity linked to a main deity. For instance the term deka, ten, becomes dekadistai meaning those who met on the tenth day in order to honour a particular deity.7 In the case of the dekadistai, information about the identity of the deity in whose honour the group met is provided further down in the inscription.8 These names however, avoided any further specification of professional, local, or ethnic origin. Adding such information is a habit found most often among professional associations such as the Dionysiac technitai or the poseidoniastai of Berytos which use a theonym but add a link to their place of origin.9 The so called eranistai are traditionally de4

5 6 7

8 9

All collected in: Waltzing, Jean-Pierre 1895–1900. Étude historique sur les corporations professionelles chez les Romains, Louvain, vol. I p. 339ff., vol. II p.139ff., p. 160ff., vol. IV pp. 236–242. Ausbüttel, Frank M. 1984. Untersuchungen zu den Vereinen im Westen des Römischen Reiches (Frankfurter Althistorische Studien 11) Regensburg, adds four further terms and explains: “Römische Juristen benutzten keine eindeutige Bezeichnung für Vereine, meist aber wurde der Begriff collegium oder corpus verwendet” p. 16 and specifically on the religious associations: “Religiöse Gruppen galten auch als collegia, entsprachen dem Vereinsverständnis der Römer” p. 17. Arnaoutoglou, Ilias 2003. Thusias heneka kai sunousias. Private Religious Associations in Hellenistic Athens, Athens, p. 31. However, these defining terms of mostly professional associations appear with the Roman rule over Greece, Van Nijf, Onno 1997. The Civic World of Professional Associations in the Roman East, Amsterdam, p, 8. Other interpretations of the name include, according to Bricault, an association meeting every nine or every ten days, or an association whose members offered a ninth of their income to the deity in question. Bricault, Laurent 2013. Les cultes isiaques dans le monde Gréco-Romain, Paris, p. 293. See also Chapters 3 and 4. However, using a theonym as part of the nomenclature among the professional associations is a rare occurrence which can be found almost exclusively on Delos. See also Arnaoutoglou, Ilias

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1. Introduction

scribed as having both cultic and social reasons to get together. They might mark a point of intersection between all ‘private’ groups.10 Finally, some groups were known to others by simply using the name of the founder of each formation, such as the Zoroastrians, Christians, Manicheans and Buddhists. However, even these were not fixed names at the beginning but developed over the course of time. One must conclude that in most cases the names do not help much in understanding either the legal position of the groups11 or their ritualistic content.12 Having looked at the ancient nomenclature and the modern approaches, it seems very difficult to agree upon only one term to describe a phenomenon as diverse as this. It appears as if no single term covers all aspects. If one speaks for example of Vereine one immediately implies a legal notion.13 Using other modern terms such as association or community again often implies modern legal and Christian connotations. Specifications such as cult-association or cult-community are perhaps more sensible but still do not do the phenomenon justice, but are rather uneasy compromises. No modern term is perfect therefore, but for practical purposes one needs a regular term, while acknowledging its limitations. The term ‘religious association’ appears to be the most appropriate one for this study and will be used throughout. Another term also needs to be introduced at this point. This is a term which will be used to describe deities that were worshipped for a longer period of time at various places but that were brought to Greece and Asia Minor, mostly in the Classical and Hellenistic periods, by new settlers. In the course of time most of these gods were accepted and worshipped in Greece. Because these gods, compared to more traditional deities, were a creation novel to their environment and often novel in their appearance, as they had been modified and engineered into fit their new surroundings, they were often referred to as ‘foreign’ or ‘new’. In point of fact the gods themselves are neither foreign nor new. On the one hand it is the representation that changed and on the other hand, and more importantly, the rites and ritual practices which changed and made those deities appear to differ from more traditional gods. Nevertheless, I will refer to these newly-introduced deities as ‘new’ gods, in order to distinguish them from more ‘traditional’ Greek deities.

10

11 12 13

forthcoming. Cult and craft. Variations on a (neglected) theme, in: Annelies Cazemier/Stella Skaltsa (edd.) Associations in context: rethinking associations and religion in the post-classical polis (International symposium, Copenhagen Associations Project, 11–13 October 2012). Arnaoutoglou 2003 analyses the history and terminology of eranos/eranistai for Athens in detail and shows that the diverse ways in which the terms are used is significant, but that a development of the term from a mostly economic meaning to associations connected to a religious pretext can be clearly observed from the 3rd c. BCE onwards, p. 75. He includes the eranistai in his study as cult-associations, p. 29 and pp. 70–87. Arnaoutoglou 2003, concludes that “the naming pattern did not follow one pre-determined model but complied with different needs in different contexts.” p. 33. In many cases and especially among the inscriptions from Athens the identity of the deity that is subject to worship is not provided, either by the inscription itself or by the location where it was found. This makes it impossible to decide what kind of group is represented. The modern word Verein normally describes a club or association that is legally registered and functions as a legal person – a concept that was unknown in ancient Greece.

1.2 History of scholarship

19

1.2 HISTORY OF SCHOLARSHIP Much has been written about the institutional and legal side of religious associations, mostly focusing on the Roman collegia, starting with Theodor Mommsen,14 whose research interest was followed soon after by Jean-Pierre Waltzing and others.15 In addition to a general interest among both theologians16 and historians, the newly established systematic corpora of inscriptions17 enabled scholars in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries to deal more easily with the amount of material that was already available. The appropriateness of the word ‘Vereine’ for Roman collegia remains a much discussed topic above all among German scholars and most recently stimulated a doctoral thesis that traces the development of historical thinking about ‘Vereine’ in the scholarship of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.18 Until now, much of the scholarly work on the Roman collegia has been focussed upon questions concerning the legal19 or socio-economic situation of Roman collegia.20 At the same time, only a few scholars have been interested in the Greek version of the collegia.21 More recent publications analyse the epigraphic remains of Greek 14 15

16

17 18 19

20 21

Mommsen, Theodor 1843. De collegiis et sodaliciis Romanorum, Kiel. Waltzing 1895–1900 published a monumental corpus, collecting all the evidence he could find at the time. Mommsen’s dissertation about the Roman collegia in Latin was followed by the 1873 Habilitation of Max Cohn, another legal historian, with his dissertation Zum römischen Vereinsrecht, Abhandlungen aus der Rechtsgeschichte and a German book by Liebenam, Wilhelm 1890. Zur Geschichte und Organisation des römischen Vereinswesens, drei Untersuchungen, Leipzig, which focussed more on the historic-economic situation of the associations. For the theological approach see Schmeller, Thomas 2006. Zum exegetischen Interesse an antiken Vereinen im 19. und 20. Jh., in: Vereine Synagogen und Gemeinden im kaiserzeitlichen Kleinasien, Andreas Gutsfeld/Dietrich-Alex Koch (edd.) Tübingen, pp. 1–19 and in the same publication: Dietrich-Alex Koch and Dirk Schinkel, Die Frage nach den Vereinen in der Geistes- und Theologiegeschichte des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts, pp. 129–148. Namely Mommsen’s Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum and Böckh’s Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum soon followed by the Inscriptiones Graecae. Dissen, Margret 2009. Römische Kollegien und deutsche Geschichtswissenschaft im 19. und 20. Jh., Stuttgart. “Für die europäische Religionsgeschichte spielt seit der Antike das Vereinsrecht eine besondere Rolle. Das Konzept des collegium (…) hat für die Formierung religiöser Organisation im Einflussbereich römischen Rechts eine kaum zu unterschätzende Bedeutung gehabt” Rüpke, Jörg 2007. Historische Religionswissenschaft. Eine Einführung, Stuttgart, p. 121. See also: Cotter, Wendy 1996. The Collegia and Roman law: State restrictions on voluntary associations, 64 BCE-200 CE, in: John S. Kloppenborg/Stephen G. Wilson (edd.) Voluntary Associations in the Graeco-Roman world, pp. 74–89; Boudewijn Sirks, Adriaan. J. 2006. Die Vereine in der kaiserlichen Gesetzgebung, in: Andreas Gutsfeld/Dietrich-Alex Koch (edd.) Vereine, Synagogen und Gemeinden im kaiserzeitlichen Kleinasien (STAC 25) Tübingen, pp. 21–40, and most recently Bendlin, Andreas 2011. Associations, Funerals, Sociality, and Roman law: The Collegium of Diana and Antinous in Lanuvium (CIL 14.2112) reconsidered, in: Markus Öhler (ed.) Aposteldekret und das antike Vereinswesen (WUNT I 280) Tübingen, pp. 207–296. Patterson, John R. 1994. The collegia and the transformation of the towns of Italy in the 2nd c. AD, in: L’Italie d’Auguste à Dioclétien, Actes du colloque international organisé par l’École française de Rome (Rome, 25–28 mars 1992) Rome 1994, pp. 227–238 and Van Nijf 1997. The most important work on Greek ‘collegiaʼ has been published by Poland, Franz 1909.

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1. Introduction

associations in more detail but focus exclusively on one specific polis and mostly on Athens. Most recently two scholars presented doctoral dissertations on religious associations in Athens. One thesis focussed on the legal status of religious associations in Athens: this was the main motivation for Ilias Arnaoutoglou who dealt exclusively with “private religious associations in Hellenistic Athens”. By contrast Paulin Ismard adopted a historical approach to understanding and analysing the social system of the various groups in Athens from the fourth until the first centuries BCE.22 Both scholars provide a very thorough but rather specific study of associations in Athens, but do not take their results beyond the border of the polis.23 At the beginning of the twentieth century Franz Cumont began an important trend in the study of the religious history of the ancient world, and of religious associations as a part of it, with his lectures on Les religions orientales dans le paganisme romain. Even though Cumont was not the first to introduce the concept of the ‘Oriental religions’, he surely was responsible for much of our basic understanding and misunderstanding of the cults he collected under this term. His main claim was, to put it briefly, that the ‘Oriental religions’ were imported to Greece and Rome as a set of ‘religions’ which offered a new kind of spirituality and mysticism.24 However, in order to create the category of ‘Oriental religions’, he claimed that one common feature of all cults gathered under this label was the performance of mysteries. Although Cumont achieved a breakthrough in the way scholars approached the history of religions in his time,25 he also inspired some research over the course

22 23

24

25

Geschichte des griechischen Vereinswesens, Leipzig. Poland, however, was the first one to try to investigate the Greek religious associations. His approach is an overarching one in terms of time, place, and kind in which he collects various socio-historical phenomena under the rather modern term ʻVereineʼ that had been established from the Latin word collegia. It was recognised in the 1980s, however, that “die griechischen Vereine auf eine längere und andersartige Entwicklung zurückblicken” and that one could have worked with the “umfangreiche und teilweise ungenügend edierte Quellenmaterial über die Vereine der östlichen Reichshälfte” that was apparently available, but decided not to, Ausbüttel 1984, p. 14. Arnaoutoglou 2003, Ismard, Paulin 2010, La cité des résaux: Athènes et ses associations, VIeIer siècle av. J.-C., Paris. The most frequently discussed aspects of ancient assocations are their legal status and their internal regulations. Most recently, a conference with the title ‘A world of well-ordered societies? The Rules and Regulations of Ancient Associations’ was held this year (2014) as part of the Copenhagen Associations Project. Cumont, Franz 2006. Les religions orientales dans le paganisme romain, Corinne Bonnet/ Françoise Van Haeperen (edd.) Turin. Against the predominant attitude of his contemporaries, who merely saw the destructive power of these new cults, he described them as positive imports. His positive attitude and his attempt to draw the religious history of the ancient world from a pagan point of view led to the early ending of his career, Bonnet, Corinne 2008. Les ‘religions orientales’ au laboratoire de l’Hellénisme: Franz Cumont, in: ARG 8, pp. 181–205 esp. 184. The most recent discussion about his achievements and legacy celebrating a centenary of his publication is presented in a collection: Les religions orientales dans le monde grec et romain : cent ans après Cumont (1906–2006): bilan historique et historiographique, Colloque de Rome, 16–18 Novembre 2006, Brussels/Rome. From now on the cults belonging to his definition of ‘Oriental gods’ were thoroughly analysed in terms of their literary, archaeological and epigraphic evidence. This becomes most apparent when looking at Vermaseren’s enormous EPRO-series.

1.2 History of scholarship

21

of the last century which raised doubts about his initial conclusions. Already by the 1930s scholars such as Schneider and Wilamowitz had formulated their doubts about his concept. They argued that the combination of the terms ‘Oriental religions’ and ‘mysteries’ was not a sensible one.26 Indeed, they were able to show that a concept such as mysteries did not exist in the ‘new’ introduced cults before they arrived in Greece. If anything, they argued, mysteries became an additional feature of these cults after they had contact with Greek mysteries – a statement that later represented the main claim of Walter Burkert’s research.27 A rather different idea about ‘Oriental religions’ and specifically the accompanying mysteries was formulated by Ugo Bianchi. Bianchi’s ideas have been perpetuated and developed further by Giulia Sfameni Gasparro.28 An important contribution to the discussion of ʻOriental godsʼ, ʻsectsʼ and other appearances outside the frame of ʻcivic religionʼ in the Roman Empire has been presented by John North’s research into religious pluralism in the Roman world.29 This led to a wholly new understanding of the main developments in the history of religions. Since then, scholars from various fields have been building on these new approaches. John Kloppenborg investigated the phenomenon from a theologian’s or religious studies perspective, whereas Jörg Rüpke inspired classicists of all areas to contribute to the discussion.30 Other new publications that analysed similar phenomena from a different perspective, such as Onno van Nijf’s work on the professional collegia in the Roman East, utilised socio-economic approaches. Van Nijf focuses on the activities and participation of the private associations of a (more or less overtly) professional character in order to trace individuals at lower levels beneath the elite that otherwise would have remained invisible.31 The most recent summary of the status quaestionis is provided in the form of a collection of essays edited by John North and Simon Price.32 The aim of this publi26

27 28

29 30 31 32

Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, Ulrich von 1931. Der Glaube der Hellenen (2. Bde.) Berlin, p. 852 Schneider, Carl 1939. Die griechischen Grundlagen der hellenistischen Religionsgeschichte, in: ARW 36, pp. 300–347 esp. 300–301. However, Schneider’s politcal motivation to show ʻunvermischten Hellenismusʼ (p. 346) is very obvious and probably led to his stark criticism of Cumont’s positive attitude towards the Oriental countries. Burkert, Walter 1987. Antike Mysterien: Funktionen und Gehalt, München, p. 16. Sfameni Gasparro, Giulia 2011. Mysteries and Oriental Cults: A problem in the History of religions, in: John A. North/Simon R. F. Price (edd.) The Religious History of the Roman Empire. Pagans, Jews and Christians, Oxford pp. 276–324, published earlier as: Sfameni-Gasparro, Giulia 2006. Misteri e culti orientali: un problema storico-religioso, in: Corinne Bonnet/Jörg Rüpke/Paolo Scarpi (edd.) Religions orientales – culti misterici. Neue Perspektiven – nouvelles perspectives – prospettive nuove (PawB 16) Stuttgart pp. 181–210. North, John A. 1992. The development of religious pluralism, in: Tessa Rajak/John A. North (edd.) The Jews among the Pagans and Christians in the Roman Empire, pp. 174–193. Kloppenborg, John S./Wilson, Stephen G. (edd.) Voluntary Associations in the Graeco-Roman world, London/New York 1996; Rüpke, Jörg (ed.) Gruppenreligionen im römischen Reich (STAC 43) Tübingen 2007. Van Nijf 1997, p. 5. North, John A./Price, Simon R. F. (edd.) The Religious History of the Roman Empire. Pagans, Jews and Christians, Oxford 2011.

22

1. Introduction

cation is to gather together the latest ideas about the changes in religious history that occurred, according to the editors, in the Graeco-Roman world from the second century BCE onwards.33 Most of the articles in the collection were first published only a decade earlier. The editors’ approach to the topic is novel and this is perhaps the point of most importance for this study: Instead of seeing the eastern origin of the former ‘Oriental cults’ as a common criterion, they emphasise the voluntary nature of these cults. This criterion led to the creation of a new term for the phenomenon, namely ‘elective cults’ as opposed to civic cults which lacked the voluntary character. According to the editors ‘elective cults’ include ‘new’ cults many of which were formerly called ‘Oriental religions’. Among these elective cults they count alongside the ‘Oriental religions’ other groups such as Jewish and Christian ones.34 Among the most striking new trends for my research is Jörg Rüpke’s introductory article on Roman Religion and the Religion of Empire, in which he points out that the development of religious structures is not as dependent on political developments as usually characterised. Indeed, he claims that religion “might itself be an area for experiment and a medium for the creation of new structures” in the Roman empire, an observation that can be adapted to the development of religious associations in cities such as Athens, as I will show in Chapter 2.35 With regard to my book this brief survey can perhaps be summarised as follows: on the one hand, scholars with an interest in legal and institutional history argue that religious associations were formations of people which based their models on older concepts of institutions, since they were forced to find categories into which to fit these groups.36 Furthermore, the formation of such groups was often driven by the intention to seek legality or to appear as legally acknowledged. On the other hand, scholars interested in the religious side of the ancient world have acknowledged significant changes in the history of religion at least from the second century BCE onwards. These changes were caused by a series of events, a historical process, which produced movements of population and new co-existences. These co-existences were created by the cosmopolitan atmosphere of some areas in big Hellenistic cities – typically ports – which had higher than average concentrations of newcomers. Here I have in mind not only the new neighbourhoods created by merchants and other travellers, but also the new military bases that were established in the course of the struggles among the Hellenistic kingdoms and which brought soldiers from all over the Mediterranean to Greece and Asia Minor. They again re33 34 35

36

North/Price 2011, Introduction, p. 2. North/Price 2011, Introduction, p. 3. Rüpke, Jörg 2011. Roman Religion and the Religion of Empire. Some Reflections on Method, in: John A. North/Simon R. F. Price (edd.) The Religious History of the Roman Empire. Pagans, Jews and Christians, pp. 9–36 esp. 30. In addition, the editors describe the perception that, contrary to the claims of Cumont and his contemporaries that religious tradition and ritual practices of the first three centuries CE were declining, they were instead “persistent” and even “creative”. Furthermore, they add the observation that if one can speak of a single pagan religion at all that would be the result of a long-standing process which can be found in antiquity exclusively in Christian writings, North/Price 2011, Introduction, p. 3. The authorities of the cities in which they mostly lived and worshipped were forced to find categories for them at the same time.

1.3 Materials, methods, structure

23

quire and produce new patterns of religious behaviour and practices. One aspect of this change is the acceptance and popularity of ‘elective cults’ as opposed to civic cults. Among the elective cults one can find religious associations of every description. 1.3 MATERIALS, METHODS, STRUCTURE This study cannot be an exhaustive one, simply owing to the nature and quantity of the evidence. However, the aim is to make use of as many different and relevant archaeological sites and inscriptions as possible. In order to adopt a sensible framework and to use as much information as possible, the evidence must be of a rather unambiguous nature. In practice this means that the material must clearly give evidence that the main purpose of a religious association’s gathering is to worship a deity in any form. This evidence must be provided in the inscriptions by a more-orless clear terminology or in a combination of epigraphic and archaeological evidence.37 The main areas to be investigated are the mainland of Greece and the islands, as well as some individual cities on the west coast of Asia Minor. The Greek colonies in the West and in the Black Sea region will not be part of the study. The survey privileges sites where both inscriptions and archaeological remains have been found. Two such sites, Athens and Delos, will be analysed in more detail, because of the concentration of evidence there and their specific position in the course of the developments which shaped the environment within which religious associations appeared. Other cities, such as Rhodes, Smyrna, Pergamum and Ephesus, offer clear evidence of the lively development of religious associations at different points in time. They will be considered when appropriate throughout the book. These places, however, were less suitable as case-studies. In some cases, such as Rhodes, there are insufficient archaeological remains for my purposes, even though the epigraphical evidence suggests that a broad range of religious associations was active there, mainly in the last two centuries BCE.38 On the other hand, the evidence may be restricted to one specific deity and one rather short period of time, as for example in Pergamum, Ephesus and Smyrna.39 Most evidence from regions other than Athens and the Aegean dates from the Roman period and does not derive from the period 37 38 39

I cannot investigate the many banqueting halls that have been suggested as meeting places of religious associations on a merely archaeological basis. The discussion of their suggested purpose alone would be worth a whole dissertation. Gabrielsen suggests a total number of about 200 different groups in that time, Gabrielsen, Vincent 2001. For the Rhodian associations and economic activity, see: Zosia H. Archibald et al. (edd.) Hellenistic Economies, London/New York, 2001, pp. 215–244 esp. 216. In Pergamum one can identify mainly Dionysiac groups and among those most evidence refers to a group of Dionysiac boukoloi. Dionysiac groups of the Roman period and mostly from the 2nd c. CE are also predominant in Ephesus (IEph II 275, 293, IEph IV 1250, IEph V 1595. IEph V 1601 and 1602 are interpreted as referring to a Dionysiac association as well). In Smyrna the same phenomenon occurs although religious associations of Dionysus appear here most often

24

1. Introduction

in which religious associations first developed but can be rather seen as products of the Roman occupation. The process through which religious associations were most visible and probably most popular peaked in the Roman west in the second and third centuries CE. Its beginnings, however, can be confirmed by the earliest documents from Classical Greece. Owing to the spread of the ‘epigraphic habit’, an enormous numerical rise of epigraphic evidence is noticeable from the fourth century BCE onwards, peaking about a century later. The first three centuries BCE are not only crucial in terms of significant political changes in the Greek mainland and Asia Minor, but also in relation to social and religious history, as demonstrated throughout the book. In the Roman period, however, the numerical size, the spread and the character of the evidence for religious associations are all markedly different from the Hellenistic period. In particular, there are more inscriptions from the cities of Asia Minor. Accordingly the chronological limits I have set myself are from around 300 BCE until 200 CE, the period that saw the rise and acme of the phenomenon of religious associations in Greece. Where appropriate, I go into greater detail with regard to specific sites. The period after 200 CE is characterised in Greece by a scarcity of evidence. The book consists of two case-studies, followed by a chapter on the architecture of religious associations, a chapter on the sociology of the cults, namely on the people who founded, and attended the associations, followed by a final chapter on the institutions by which religious associations were inspired, maintained and their activities restricted. The first case-study, Chapter 2, deals with the archaeological and epigraphic evidence that was found in the city of Athens and Piraeus. The third chapter is a case-study in which the remains from Delos are analysed. By investigating the material evidence of the two places in chronological order I hope to find out more about the conditions that led to the genesis and development of religious associations within each society, whether long-standing or newly flourishing. The reason why I chose to approach the topic by conducting two case studies lies in the advantages that case studies offer when it comes to observing a whole community. Case studies of poleis allow the observation of various cults at the same time in their context instead of extracting one particular cult or sanctuary from its environment. These locally bound investigations provide the basis for a comparison of various cults, a key aspect of this book. The choice of Athens as one case study proves valuable insofar as it looks back upon rather a long history of important institutions which are well documented in the epigraphic record. Delos, on the other hand, though not as important with regard to long-term political institutions (apart from the sanctuary of Apollo of course), offers a great deal of archaeological and epigraphic evidence that illuminates a short but very important period in the history of a city that flourished enormously in the last three centuries BCE. This contrast in the history of the development of the two cities reveals the different circumstances within which religious associations might be established, a difference which has certainly led to contrasting modern interpretations of the institution as a whole. as mysts together with the Dionsysiac technites (ISmyrna 652, 731, 732, 639). Most inscriptions date from the first two centuries CE.

1.4 Leading ideas

25

Chapter 4 is an investigation and analysis of the people who initiated, supported, maintained and joined religious associations. Questions about social class, origin and gender of founders, ordinary members and sacred staff are approached by analysing the epigraphic evidence. In Chapter 5 I investigate the architectural remains of religious associations. By analysing the archaeological structures that religious associations have left behind and that can be identified as such, I try to reconstruct the way in which they were part of the community. A further issue is whether similar types of groups used the same architectural language. I also discuss whether the worshipping groups around ‘new’ deities used the same architectural forms as they did at their place of origin or whether they invented new ones, or borrowed forms and materials from each new environment. The analysis of the archaeological remains can answer questions such as whether the groups’ meeting places were located in the main square or rather in proximity to a sanctuary, in a private or public context, with an exoteric or esoteric connotation. The aim of the sixth chapter is to investigate the theories about religious associations in scholarship and to align them with the results presented in the book. 1.4 LEADING IDEAS In this book I argue three basic points. First I put the case that individual religious associations worshipping the same deities were far more diverse from each other than is usually recognised. This diversity is a function of the local preconditions of each environment in which the religious association was established, rather than of an original idea that spread throughout the ‘communities’, even though the nomenclature is often similar. Secondly I argue that ‘new’ deities were assimilated into their new environments at an enormous pace, and most often by means of religious associations. They assimilated by developing the following main characteristics. They most often adapted superficially to each new environment in terms of its architectural and epigraphic habit. Indeed they reflected their environment in terms of its legal and institutional preconditions. But although they soon came to look like most other local cults they differed in terms of rituals held and the hierarchy among staff and ‘ordinary’ members. In fact, they offered new ritual practices and new interpretations of older forms such as mysteries. It is this unique selling point which made them so popular in their new environments. The third argument concerns the fact that most religious associations worshipping ‘new’ deities did so without any aggressiveness and ‘superficial’ exoticism to attract new members but rather the opposite. The agents of these associations were well aware of the local rules and regulations and adapted quickly to these constraints by using existing local terminology and habits. The first target of each association was, it seems, to attract members of the local elite or wealthy citizens to ensure their financial and social survival. As a result, we have trouble seeing through the epigraphic evidence which in most cases only displays the honorary and legal

26

1. Introduction

elements that religious associations are concerned with and therefore appear very similar to many other contemporary epigraphic documents. If we look more closely however, we find that both religious associations in their particular form offering a freedom of choice in religious matters and ‘new’ deities in Greece were a novelty in themselves and therefore attracted attention without advertising or showing off in public. This might also provide one explanation of the difficulty in finding material traces of certain religious associations in Greece, such as Jewish and early Christian groups, whose existence is revealed by literary evidence.

2. ATHENS – A CASE STUDY This chapter investigates the question of whether, how, and at what point religious associations had a visible impact on urban space in Greece using the example of Athens and its harbour Piraeus. By analysing the epigraphic and archaeological evidence from Athens and Piraeus I draw a general picture of the emergence of the most prominent cults that developed religious associations in Athens and Piraeus in the late Classical, Hellenistic and Roman periods. Athens cannot simply be seen as one of the newly mushrooming Hellenistic cities such as Delos which shall be considered in the next chapter. Nevertheless, it underwent significant changes during the Hellenistic period. One change was the increased prominence of religious associations in the epigraphic evidence, which seems to occur rather suddenly at the end of the Classical period and the beginning of the Hellenistic era (350–300 BCE). This phenomenon goes hand in hand with the general rise in epigraphic evidence. This is of particular importance because, given the paucity of surviving physical remains in the area of the modern city, this casestudy is necessarily mainly based on inscriptions. In the appendix I present two graphs that will enable the reader to grasp the shifts in the epigraphic habit more clearly. Graph A shows the total numbers of inscriptions surviving from Athens and Attica from the eighth century BCE until the fourth century CE,1 while graph B charts the number of Attic inscriptions over the same period of time that clearly mention religious associations.2 If one compares the graphs it becomes clear that the numbers of inscriptions which have come down to us from religious associations are only a very small fraction of the totality of inscriptions from Athens. If it is at all reasonable to make assumptions on the basis of these small numbers, we can deduce that the epigraphic evidence recording the activity of religious associations follows the general trends of the epigraphic habit, although the epigraphic activity in this area peaks in the third rather than the fourth century BCE.3 However, the fact that only a single inscription has come down to us from before the fourth century raises questions such as whether these new groups were new creations or were in fact transformed versions of older religious organisations. Examples of religious associations in the literary evidence before the fourth century are rare and do 1 2 3

Hedrick, Charles W. 1999. Democracy and the Athenian Epigraphical habit, in: Hesperia 68, pp. 387–439 esp. 392. App. I, figs. A and B. Rhodes could observe “exceptional activity in religious matters” in the last quarter of the 4th c. Rhodes, Peter J. 2009. State and religion in Athenian inscriptions, Greece and Rome 56, pp. 1–13 esp. 9. This could be an indicator that the inscriptions concerning religious matters were most numerous slightly later than the general trend. However, one must not forget that for this study only 125 inscriptions from Athens and Attica (Hedrick 1999, p. 390) have been taken into account out of a total of approximately 20.000.

28

2. Athens – a case study

not lead any further. The question has to remain open but will be considered later on in this chapter. A second question on which this chapter will focus is the way in which religious associations changed over the course of time. Is it that they simply changed their practices according to the norms of a given period, or were changes driven by innovation in their religious practices and ideas concerning the ‘religious’ content? In other words: were these changes of form or content? Were ‘new’ cults using the existing patterns of civic cults – for example, was it members of the Attic orgeones of Heroes who later joined the orgeones of Bendis and Syrian Aphrodite? To what extent can one speak of a continuity of older forms of organisation? Is this a totally new phenomenon, or is it a matter of old features being used in a new way and thereby creating something new? How much, if at all, did the ekklesia intervene in the running of these groups? Finally, a third set of questions will be raised concerning the archaeological evidence that appears in the study. Even though Athens is a special place in the Greek world during the fifth century, its archaeological evidence is – partly due to the city’s modern growth – not well-preserved. It might therefore not be as representative as the evidence found in other places. However, the structures that have survived will be analysed with reference to their location within the city, and their probable size and furnishing. Other possible questions include whether the groups were visible in the centre of the city or just on the outskirts, and whether they possessed independent establishments or were dependent on existing sanctuaries. How much space was occupied by the groups and how did they use it? Did individuals offer their houses as meeting places or were buildings constructed that were exclusively dedicated to the gatherings and ritual action of specific groups? Scholars who deal with the religious history of Athens tend not to pay too much attention to religious associations. Robert Parker mentions them in the introduction to his “Polytheism and Society in Athens” but does not otherwise deal with them.4 Other scholars such as Jon Mikalson in his book “Religion in Hellenistic Athens”, devote more space to the topic.5 Mikalson, however, uses the evidence mainly to support his more general classification of the Athenian cults into ‘foreign’ and ‘traditional’. He builds his argument around a division between the groups in Athens and Piraeus into “exclusive groups of citizens located in the city centre”6 and “small and weak (…) foreign koina” that were restricted to Piraeus and did not have any citizen members.7 New approaches to the more general idea of a polis-religion, thoroughly discussed by Sourvinou-Inwood in 2000,8 were recently published by Julia Kindt. 4 5 6 7 8

Parker mentions them in one sentence in his introduction together with hereditary groups as “societies of orgeones of a hero, thiasoi of Herakles and the like.” Parker, Robert 2005. Polytheism and society in Athens, Oxford, p. 23. Mikalson, Jon 1998. Religion in Hellenistic Athens, Berkeley/London, pp. 139–155. Mikalson 1998, pp. 152–153. He does not mention that there is no attestation for a citizen-only membership of the orgeones but argues the opposite. Mikalson 1998, p. 154. Sourvinou-Inwood, Christiane 2000 a. What is Polis-religion? in: Richard Buxton (ed.) Oxford

2.1 Early evidence

29

Both scholars address the topic of placing religious associations in a religious system of an individual polis.9 Only a few other researchers, however, dedicated their entire theses to the topic, most notably Ilias Arnaoutoglou (2003) and Paulin Ismard (2011), which certainly suggests that there is enough evidence to analyse. Arnaoutoglou, who wrote probably the most thorough study of the legal situation of religious associations in Athens in recent years, compiled a total of 175 inscriptions relating to religious associations from Athens and Attica dating from the fifth century BCE until the third century CE. My study is based on 126 of these inscriptions, all of which mention either a specific deity or a particular sanctuary. The inscriptions were found not only in the city itself but also in Piraeus and Attica. On the following pages I will summarise their distribution and will mainly focus on certain fruitful discoveries from the city centres of Athens and Piraeus. 2.1 EARLY EVIDENCE The earliest epigraphic evidence for the use of the words thiasos and thiasotai to describe a group of people in general shows that the term was widespread in Greece10 and in Athens from the fifth century BCE onwards.11 However, only one fifth-century inscription found in Piraeus can be connected with a religious thiasos.12 One can find thiasoi and thiasotai in the Athenian literature from the fifth century BCE onwards in most literary genres and generally used to describe a group of people. In the fourth century, especially in the speeches of Demosthenes, the terms are used to describe the noisy groups worshipping mostly Thracian and other, ‘new’ gods, though Demosthenes might be exaggerating in order to make his point.13 However, we may observe a general trend from the fifth century from the use of the term to describe any kind of social group towards a more specific usage in the fourth century to describe religious groups.14

9

10 11 12 13 14

Readings in Greek Religion, Oxford, pp. 13–37, first published in: Oswyn Murray/Simon R. F. Price (edd.) The Greek city from Homer to Alexander, Oxford 1990, pp. 295–322 and Sourvinou-Inwood, Christiane 2000 b, Further aspects of Polis-religion, in: Richard Buxton (ed.) Oxford Readings in Greek Religion, Oxford, pp. 38–55, first published in: AION (Arch) 10, 1988, pp. 259–274. Since religious associations cannot in my view be seen as part of the polis religion, if indeed one can speak of ʻpolis religionʼ at all, but offered an alternative that grew up as a new phenomenon much later on, I will not discuss this topic any further. Kindt discusses the problems that occur when dealing with privately initiated worship or associations and polis religion, see Kindt, Julia 2009. Polis Religion – a critical appreciation, in: Nissen, Cécile (ed.) Entre Asclépios et Hippoctate: Etude des cultes guerisseurs et des medecins en Carie (Kernos suppl. 22) pp. 9–34 esp. 28–29. E. g. Rhodes = Lindos II 580, Aegina = SEG 36.305, and Sicily = SEG 35.1009 already in the 6th and 5th c. BCE. E. g. IG II² 1177. In connection with Herakles, IG I³ 1016, SEG 10.330. However, since the term had to make sense to his audience, he may well have chosen simply to describe it in terms that people were familiar with. For a more detailed analysis of the use of thiasos in literature see Arnaoutoglou 2003, pp. 60–

30

2. Athens – a case study

2.2 THE FOURTH CENTURY BCE, A CENTURY OF ORGEONES ASSOCIATIONS In the fourth century BCE, then, religious associations worshipping a particular choice of deities appear more prominently in the epigraphic evidence. The term thiasos to denote a religious association gathering for religious purposes was now used by the associations in inscriptions. Moreover, one can find the term orgeones to describe religious associations which at this point in time were mostly devoted to heroes. Whether this new visibility results from a general increase in the use of epigraphy as a means of communication and representation, or whether it indicates a change in the habit of religious associations, is unclear.15 Sixteen fourth-century inscriptions of both thiasoi and orgeones have been found in Athens.16 Seven were found in Piraeus.17 From this it appears that orgeones were, alongside the thiasoi/ thiasotai, the dominant form of religious association in the fourth century in Athens and Piraeus. The find spots of most Athenian inscriptions are not known or else are vaguely described as ‘Athens’ or ‘Piraeus’. This causes difficulties when trying to draw a map of the distribution of religious associations within the city. However, the cases where more information is available indicate that most inscriptions were found in the very centre of the city, namely between the Agora and the Acropolis. A case in point are the orgeones of Amynos, Asklepios and Dexion. Three inscriptions belonging to this specific group were found in situ on the slope of the Acropolis between Pnyx and Areopagus in the heart of Athens.18 Moreover, the architectural 15 16

17

18

66. Arnaoutoglou suggests that during the 5th c. BCE religious associations changed their habit from gathering at local shrines and sanctuaries in rural Attica to finding assembly-rooms in the urbanised areas of Athens and Piraeus p. 28. If not indicated otherwise, all inscriptions are published in IG II² and can be dated BCE: 1) 1249, Acropolis, decr. of a cult association of unknown type, first half 4th c., 2) 1525, Amyneion, orgeones of Amynos, Asklepios and Dexion, second half 4th c., 3) 1253 Amyneion, hon. decr. orgeones of Amynos, Asklepios, Dexion second half 4th c., 4) 1259 Amyneion, hon. decr. 331/12, 5) 1599 orgeones association 340–320, 6) 2343 koinon thiasoton, 12 members, priest of Herakles, first half 4th c., inscribed in trapeze, 7) 2345, list of names organised in 6 groups and word thiasos, first half 4th c. probably thiasoi of phratries, 8) 2348, catalogue thiasotai, second half 4th c., 9) 2349, catalogue thiasotai, 4th c., 10) 2499, lease of the temple of Egretes by an orgeones association for 10 years, 200 dr. p. a., 306/5, 11) 2501, lifelong lease of temple of Hypodektes by koinon orgeonon 50 dr. p. a., second half 4th c., 12) 2936, dedication of thiasotai, list of 5 names, second half 4th c., 13) 2939, dedication to Athena Ergane at the occasion of a crowning by a group of thiasotai second half 4th c., 14) 2942, Acropolis, hon. decr. by artemisiastai, 345, 15) SEG 12.100, 30–35, Agora, claim of an orgeones associations on some property that was confiscated and sold, 367/6, 16) SEG 24.203, lease of a garden of the orgeones (of the hero-doctor?) for 30 years, 20 dr. p. a., 333/2. 1) IG II² 1255 orgeones of Bendis? decr., honouring several officials for their duties 337/6, 2) 1256, orgeones of Bendis, hon. decr., 329/8, 3) 1261 A-C, three decrees of a koinon ton thiasoton, probably of Aphrodite, 302/1–300/299, 4) 1262, hon. decr. of a koinon thiasoton of Tynabos, 301/300, 5) 1263, decr. of thiasotai for an official, 300/299, 6) 1277 fragm. regulation of a koinon thiasoton 325–275, 7) 1361, decr. of the orgeones of Bendis, 330/324/3. For the location see map app. I, fig. C. The inscriptions are: IG II2 1252, 1253 and 1259, they

2.2 The fourth century BCE, a century of orgeones associations

31

structure within which some of the inscriptions were found could be identified as the groups’ sanctuary and assembly-room. The Amyneion, a walled precinct of 250 m2 was situated in an area in which several houses of the classical period have been excavated.19 Within the precinct the excavators found a well, supplied by a large aqueduct constructed in the sixth century BCE.20 The entrance at the north end of the west side was marked in Roman times by two columns.21A marble sacrificial table, bases for votives and reliefs displaying certain body parts which are typical for healing shrines, and a marble table for offerings were found within the area. No building was found in the precinct and apparently the only roofed area was a simple shelter or hall with wooden columns.22 All this is nothing specifically ʻorgeonicʼ. The precinct including its inventory does not differ from other contemporary sanctuaries either in its ground-plan or its furnishings. The history of this specific group of orgeones reaches well back into the sixth century BCE. Initially the group had worshipped Amynos, a healing deity like Asklepios, and extended their cult in the fifth century BCE by including the latter.23 In connection with Asklepios the hero Dexion, who is said to have played his part in the ‘reception’ of Asklepios in Athens and Eleusis,24 was integrated and retained his own shrine.25 The inscriptions indicate that at least some of the members were fairly wealthy, since they donated several gold crowns, of which one was worth 500 drachmae.26 Whereas Ferguson categorised the members of this association as “respectable Athenians (…) of the propertied class”.27 Jones suggests “rather a more diverse membership dependent upon the largess of a few generous benefactors”28. His prosopographic investigations of the nine persons known from the decrees show that only three are known from other places and of these three only one can be referred to in the way suggested by Ferguson as respectable and propertied.29 One can however summarise that the orgeones of Amynos, Asklepios and Dexion were a fairly long-standing religious association which in the fourth century

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

refer to the group, IG II2 4385–4387, 4422, 4424, 4435, 4457, 4365 were also found within the sanctuary. All inscriptions date to the middle and second half of the 4th c. BCE. See app. I, fig. D. Graham, James W. 1974. Houses of classical Athens, in: Phoenix 28, pp. 45–54 esp. 47. Wycherly, Richard E. 1970, Smaller Shrines in Ancient Athens, in: Phoenix 24, pp. 283–295 esp. 292. Travlos, John 1971. Bildlexikon zur Topographie des antiken Athen, Tübingen, p. 76. Travlos 1971, p. 76. Ferguson, William S. 1944. The Attic Orgeones, in: HThR 37, 1944, pp. 61–140 esp. 87. Mikalson 1998, p. 146. IG II² 1252, l. 11 of the inscription indicates that the group met annually at two sanctuaries, the one to Amynos and Asklepios and the one to Dexion, see IG II² 1252: ἀτέλειαν τοῦ χοῦ ἐν ἀμφοῖν τοῖν ἱεροῖν. IG II² 1252: thanks to various male individuals for their performance and mention of a gold crown worth 500 drachmae (ll. 9–10): στεφανῶσαι αὐτῶν ἑκάτερον χρυσῶι στε-/ 10 φάνωι ἀπὸ (500) δραχμῶν). See also IG II² 1253 for a gold crown and IG II² 1259 for similar awards. Ferguson 1944, p. 87. Jones, Nicholas F. 1999. The Associations of Classical Athens, Oxford, p. 256. Jones 1999, p. 255.

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BCE entertained two shrines of which at least one was located in the centre of Athens. The known precinct was surrounded by houses yet only 100m away from the political heart of the city namely the Pnyx, the Agora and the Areopagus. A series of inscriptions from Athens, all but one30 dating back to the second half of the fourth century, deal with property interests in connection with religious associations. One of these inscriptions was found at the foot of the hill of the Nymphs close to the Amyneion. It provides very detailed conditions concerning the lease of a sacred precinct owned by the orgeones of the hero Echelos.31 The precinct was let over a period of ten years for 200 drachmae per year which had to be paid in two instalments every six months.32 In addition, the tenant named Diognetos33 had to open and prepare the hieron for the annual meeting of the group in September (Boedromion). On this occasion he had to provide cooking facilities, benches and tables for two triclinia.34 We learn from the contract that the orgeones met at least once a year in order to hold a banquet together in honour of a certain hero in a precinct that belonged to the group, and that was very probably in the area of the city centre where the contract was found.35 The practice of inscribing such detailed leasing-contracts for sanctuaries is not unique.36 30 31

32

33 34 35 36

SEG 12.100 was set up 367/6 BCE. IG II² 2499, 306/5 BCE: [θε]οί./ [ο]ἱ ὀργεῶνες ἐμίσθωσαν τὸ ἱερὸν το-/[ῦ] Ἐγρέτου Διογνήτωι Ἀρκεσίλου Με-/ λιτεῖ εἰς δέκα ἔτη ∶ΗΗ∶ δραχμῶν τοῦ ἐ-/ 5 {ε}νιαυτοῦ {ἐνιαυτοῦ} ἑκάστου, χρῆσθαι τῶι ἱ-/ ερῶι καὶ ταῖς οἰκίας ταῖς ἐνωικοδ-/ ομημέναις ὡς ἱερῶι. περιαλείψει δ-/ ὲ Διόγνητος καὶ τῶν τοίχων τοὺς δε-/ ομένους, ἐνοικοδομήσει δὲ καὶ κατ-/ 10 ασκευάι καὶ ἄλλ’ ὅαν τι βούληται v/ Διόγνητος. ὅταν δὲ ὁ χρόνος ἐξίηι v/ αὐτῶι τῆς δεκαετίας, ἄπεισιν ἔχων/ τὰ ξύλα καὶ τὸν κέραμον καὶ τὰ θυρώ-/ [μ]ατα, τῶν δ’ ἄλλων κινήσει οὐθέν. ἐπι-/ 15 [μ]ελήσεται δὲ καὶ τῶν δένδρων τῶν v/ ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι πεφυκότων, καὶ ἄν τι ἐγ-/ λείπει, ἀντεμβαλεῖ καὶ παραδώσει/ τὸν αὐτὸν ἀριθμόν. τὴν δὲ μίσθωσιν/ ἀποδώσει Διόγνητος τῶι ἀεὶ ταμιε-/ 20 ύοντι τῶν ὀργεώνων ἑκάστου τοῦ ἐν-/ ιαυτοῦ τὴμ μὲν ἡμίσεαν τὰς ∶Η∶ δραχμὰ[ς]/ τοῦ Βοηδρομιῶνος τῆι νουμηνίαι, v/ τὴν δὲ λοιπὴν τὰς ∶Η∶ δραχμὰς τοῦ Ἐλα-/ φηβολιῶνος τῆι νουμνίαι. ὅταν δὲ/ 25 θύωσιν οἱ ὀργεῶνες τῶι ἥρωι τοῦ Βο-/ ηδρομιῶνος, παρέχειν Διόγνητον τ-/ ὴν οἰκίαν, οὗ τὸ ἱερόν ἐστιν, ἀνεωιγ-/ μένην καὶ στέγην καὶ τὸ ὀπτάνιον v/ καὶ κλίνας καὶ τραπέζας εἰς δύο τρ-/ 30 ίκλινα. ἐὰν δὲ μὴ ἀποδιδῶι τὴμ μίσθ-/ ωσιν Διόγνητος ἐν τοῖς χρόνοις τοῖς/ γεγραμμένοις ἢ τἆλλα μὴ ποεῖ τὰ ἐν/ τῆι μισθώσει γεγραμμένα, ἄκυρος v/ ἔστω αὐτῶι ἡ μίσθωσις καὶ στερέσθω/ 35 τῶν ξύλων καὶ τοῦ κεράμου καὶ τῶν v/ θυρωμάτων, καὶ ἐξέστω τοῖς ὀργεῶσι/ μισθοῦν ὅτωι ἂν βούλωνται. ἐὰν δέ τις/ εἰσφορὰ γίνηται, ἀπὸ τοῦ τιμήματος/ τοῖς ὀργεῶσιν εἶναι. ἀναγράψαι δὲ/ 40 τὴμ μίσθωσιν τήνδε Διόγνητον εἰς/ τὴν στήλην τὴν ὑπάρχουσαν ἐν τῶι ἱ-/ ερῶι. χρόνος ἄρχει τῆς μισθώσεως v/ ἄρχων ὁ μετὰ Κόροιβον ἄρχοντα. vvv. Ll. 4–5 and ll. 20–24. In addition to the right to furnish the hieron and the dwellings that belonged to it (ll. 5–6), the tenant was supposed to take care of the trees in the precinct and to replace them when they died (ll. 15–18), and he had to whitewash the walls of the house when necessary (ll. 7–8). LGPN vol. II, s.v. Diognetos, no. 34 from the deme of Melite. Ll. 27–30. On this specific contract in comparison to other, similar contracts not belonging to orgeones see Horster, Marietta 2004. Landbesitz griechischer Heiligtümer in archaischer und klassischerZeit, Berlin, pp. 182–183. LSCG 14 (=IG I³ 84), Athens 418/7 BCE, decr. for the sanctuary of Kodros, Neleus and Basile.

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A similar but less distinctive inscription carrying a leasing-contract was found in the western part of the city.37 The lifelong lease of the premises to an unknown person was charged at a rent of 50 drachmae per annum. In return the temenos including hieron and oikia had to be kept as such, and the precinct had to be prepared for the annual meeting of the orgeones in the middle of Boedromion including the unveiling and oiling of the cult-image.38 Yet another inscription containing a contract concerning property owned by an orgeones-group reveals that this group charged twenty drachmae per annum for the lease of the garden to a certain Thrasybolos of Alopeke for a period of thirty years.39 Most of the other inscriptions which name religious associations only reveal the names of members in the form of lists; of accounts of honours granted to members of the group; of dedications to deities, and sometimes offered even less information than this. Before turning to the finds from Piraeus I would like to stress that none of the small number of names mentioned in the decrees of the orgeones indicates the membership of non-Athenians.40 At the same time there is no proof of the opposite.41 There is no sign that representatives of the polis were involved in these groups in an official capacity.42 The second observation to be made concerns the contents of the inscription. Such detailed contracts that concern the lease of ‘privately’ owned sanctuaries and the duties of the tenant regarding the organisation of the annual main sacrifices first appear during this period.43 But for other religious associations such preparations were undertaken by officials of the organisation (see for example the orgeones of Bendis). It remains unclear whether the orgeones used their sacred precinct outside the festivals mentioned in the lease.44 To sum up, one might say that the orgeones were not particularly concerned with matters of representation either via their property or via their epigraphic record. And yet they decided to describe the contract in stone. No names of members or officials appear in the inscriptions. Only the location of the sanctuary so close to the political centre of Athens might be seen as a representative feature. It seems, however, as if the 37 38

39 40 41

42 43 44

Ferguson 1944, p. 81, IG II² 2501, second half 4th c. BCE. IG II² 2501: Ll. 6–9 ἀποδιδό]- 5 [ναι δὲ] αὐτοὺς τοῖς [ὀργεῶσι τὴν] μίσθωσ δραχμὰς ἑκάστ[ου τοῦ]/ [ἐνιαυ]τῦ τεῖ νουμηνίαι τοῦ [Βοηδ]ρ[ομι]ῶνος μηνός, τεῖ δὲ τετρά[δι ἐπὶ]/ [δέκα ὅ]ταν ἱεροῖς ἀπαντσιν παρέχει αὐτοὺς τοῖς ὀργεῶ[σι τὸ ἱε]-/ [ρὸν ἀν] εωιγμένον ἡμέρα καὶ/ ἐστεφανωμέν[ον, τὸ δὲ ἄγαλμα τοῦ]/ [θεοῦ ἀλ] ηλειμμένον καὶ [τὰ καλύ]μματα ἀποδμένο[ν. LGPN vol. II, s.v. Thrasybolos no. 7; SEG 24.203, 333/2 BCE. Mikalson 1998, p. 152. On the difficulties of assigning status to members of religious associations in Athens see most recently: Arnaoutoglou, Ilias 2011. Ils étaient dans la ville, mais tout à fait en dehors de la cité. On status and identity in private religious associations in Hellenistic Athens, Onno v. Nijf/ Richard Alston (edd.) Political Culture in the Greek city after the Classical Age, Leuven, pp. 27–48. Using a statistical approach, he shows that the status of only one third of the members of religious associations in Athens can be clearly identified, p. 31. Jones 1999, p. 256. Rhodes 2009, p. 8. But it does not seem likely, since the dwellings were occupied and had to be prepared for the feasts.

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group existed in order to worship together and the lease of the precinct was rather a means of keeping it up since no priests or other officials in charge for the sanctuary are mentioned, as is usually the case for other religious associations. If one compares the groups’ methods of representation in the fourth century in Athens, it seems as if they used the same general contemporary habits, such as the contract which appears to be rather detailed. Such contracts engraved in stone are typical for the time from the end of the fifth century onwards and mirror practices in the surrounding society.45 The same is true for their use of sanctuaries: even though they owned them as individual citizens, they ran them very much in the same way as the state ran its temples. This can be seen in the way in which the sanctuaries are arranged and equipped. Probably the most important series of inscriptions from Piraeus concerns the orgeones of Bendis. Bendis was a goddess of Thracian origin who appears in Athens already in the fifth century BCE. Religious associations worshipping the goddess appear from the fourth century BCE onwards. Three fourth-century-inscriptions can be linked to these specific and much discussed groups.46 The three inscriptions mention two different groups of orgeones of Bendis. One of them consisted exclusively of citizens, the other of citizens and ‘others’, namely Thracians of unknown description.47 All three decrees refer to a group of citizens which, according to the epigraphic record, was established prior to the mixed group.48 The cult of Bendis was officially recognised in Athens in or before 429 BCE,49 and incorporated in the polis-cult. A temple of Bendis in Athens was mentioned first in 404/03 BCE.50 Little is known about the actual organisation of the orgeones of the goddess and only a little information is provided by the three inscriptions. However, we learn about an annual membership fee of two drachmae to cover the costs of the sacrifice on the occasion of the annual public Bendideia; about the inclusion

45 46 47

48 49 50

Rhodes 2009, p. 8. IG II² 1255, 337/6 BCE; IG II² 1256, 329/8 BCE; IG II² 1361, 330/324/3 BCE. On the identification of the citizen and Thracian orgeones of Bendis see for example Ferguson 1944, 98–100; Mikalson 1998, p. 145; Jones 1999, 257; Planeaux, Christopher 2000. The date of Bendis’ Entry into Attica, in: The Classical Journal, 96, pp. 165–192 esp.187–189; Arnaoutoglou 2003, 57–60 and Arnaoutoglou, Ilias forthcoming. Cult associations and politics. Worshipping Bendis in classical and Hellenistic Athens, in: Vincent Gabrielsen/Christian A. Thomsen (edd.) Proceedings of the International Symposium, Copenhagen Associations Project, September 2010. Although there might have been a group of Thracians before that simply without leaving any evidence. The most recent article on Bendis’ appearance in Athens claims that she was part of the “pantheon of the Athenian polis earlier than 429”, Arnaoutoglou Bendis forthcoming. Planeaux 2000, p. 169.

2.2 The fourth century BCE, a century of orgeones associations

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of new members;51 and about honours given to officials;52 but nothing more than the mention of a temple in which certain festivities take place and nothing about a shrine or private sanctuary of the group. However, some differences between the groups of Athenian orgeones and the ‘Thracian’ version from Piraeus can be seen at that time. Beside the fact that non-Athenians were members of the ‘Thracian’ group it also seems as if the group was far more organised and better staffed53 – and very probably larger than the Athenian ones.54 A tripartite honorary decree of thiasotai connected with Aphrodite Ourania that dates to the last years of the fourth century was found in Piraeus.55 Three further inscriptions were found and each mentions a koinon thiasoton56 or thiasotai.57 They date to the turn of the fourth/third century BCE.

51

52

53 54 55 56 57

A certain tendency of the orgeones-associations to expand at this stage can be seen in IG II² 1361, ll. 20–23: 20 v ὅπως δ’ ἂν ὡ-/ 21 [ς πλ]εῖστοι ὦσιν ὀργεῶνες τοῦ ἱερο[ῦ], ἐξεῖναι [τῶι] βουλομένωι εἰσεν[έ]γκαντι/ 22[— δ]ραχμὰς μετεῖναι αὐτῶι τοῦ ἱεροῦ καὶ εἰς τὴν στήλην ἐγγράφεσθαι, τ[οὺς]/ 23[δὲ γεγραμ]μένους εἰς τὴν στήλην δο[κιμά]ζειν τοὺς ὀργεῶνας καὶ παρ[α —]: “so that orgeones of the temple may be as many as possible, anybody who wishes to join shall be allowed to participate in the temple, having paid the sum of […] drachmas and his name shall be inscribed on a stele, and those inscribed are to be scrutinised by the orgeones”. Translation Arnaoutoglou 2003. IG II² 1255: [ἔδοξεν τοῖς ὀ]ργεῶσι· Ὀλυμπιόδω-/ [ρος ․․․8․․․․] εἶπεν· ἐπειδὴ οἱ ἱε-/ [ροποιοὶ οἱ ἐπὶ] Φρυνίχου ἄρχοντ-/ [ος καλῶς ἐπεμε]λήθησαν καὶ φιλ[ο]-/ 5 [τίμως τῆς τε πο]μπῆς καὶ τῆς κρε[α]-/ [νομίας καὶ τῶν] ἄλλων πάντων· ἐψ[η]-/ [φίσθαι τοῖς ὀργ] εῶσι ἐπαινέσα̣[ι α]-/ [ὐτοὺς καὶ στεφ]ανῶσαι χρυσῶι [στ]-/ [εφάνωι ἀπὸ τρια]κοσίων δρα[χμῶν]/ 10 [Ἀντιφάνην Ἀντι]σθένους Κυ[θήρρ]-/ [ιον, Ναυσίφιλον] Ναυσινίκο[υ Κεφ]-/ [αλῆθεν, Ἀριστομέ]νην Μοσχ․․․․/ [․․5․․ φιλοτιμία]ς ἕνεκα τ[ῆς εἰς]/ [τοὺς ὀργεῶνας. ἀνα]γράψα[ι δὲ τόδ]-/ 15 [ε τὸ ψήφισμα ἐν στή]λει λ[ιθίνει κ]-/ [αὶ στῆσαι ἐν τῶι ἱερ]ῶι τ[ῆς Βενδῖ]-/ [δος τὸν γραμματέα Θ]άλλ[ον— —].: “the sacrificing associates (orgeones) approved the motion which Olympiodoros son of … made: Whereas the sacrifice makers (hieropoioi) who served when Phrynichos was archon have done so with honor and zeal, both in regard to the procession and the division of the sacrificial meat and all other matters; it was decided by the sacrificing associates to commend the following and to crown them with a golden crown with the value of 300 drachmae: Antiphanes son of Antisthenes of Kytherros, Nausiphilos son of Nausinikos of Kephalē, and Aristomenes son of Mosch….. on account of the zeal that they have shown towards the sacrificing associates; and that the secretary Thallos have this decree inscribed on a stele and set up in the sanctuary of Bendis…” Translation Kloppenborg 2011. The Athenian orgeones ʻemployedʼ only a hestiator (see e. g. SEG 21.530, l. 12), a ‘host’ without any further specification. More information on the orgeones of Bendis is provided in later decrees from the 3rd c. BCE and will be considered further below. IG II² 1261. IG II² 1262, 301/300 BCE; IG II² 1277, 325–275 BCE. IG II² 1263, 300/299 BCE.

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2.3 PEAK-TIME FOR RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATONS IN ATHENS? The third century BCE offers the most epigraphic evidence on the activity of religious associations. Twenty-six inscriptions from Athens58 and twelve inscriptions from Piraeus59 contain information on various religious associations. The exact findspots of the inscriptions from Athens are known for eight of them and can be located roughly in the area around the Acropolis, whereas most of the rest were found at the Agora. In the following section I will concentrate on those instances 58

59

If not otherwise indicated, all dates are BCE 1) SEG 48.130, Kerameikos 3rd c., hon. decr. for epimeletria of Agathe Thea, 2) Ag. 16, 130, Agora, 300, decr. of orgeones?, 3) Ag. 16, SEG 21.530, Areopagus, first half 3rd c., decr. ordering the re-inscription of the regulations, new rules on sacrifices and share of meat, introduced by orgeones of Echelos, 4) Ag. 16, 202, Agora, 227/6, hon. decr. of Nikomachos, for his children in connection with thiasotai?, 5) Ag. 16, 231, SEG 21.533, Agora, c. 215, a thiasos honours an individual, 6) Ag. 16, 235, Agora, 212/11, hon. decr. of orgeones (Mother of the Gods?) for priestess who fulfilled her duties, 7) IG II² 1277, Pnyx, 272/1, decr. of thiasotai honouring several officials, 8) 1278, Athens?, 272/1, decr. of thiasotai? honouring several officials, 9) IG II² 1289, Athens, 255–235, decision of arbitrators on a property dispute of orgeones. The selling or hypothecating of the property is forbidden, only a lease is possible, 10) IG II² 1292, Athens, 215/14, hon. decr. of serapiastai for officials, e.g. proeranistria Nikippe, 11) IG II² 1294, Athens, mid-3rd c., fragm., orgeones and Zeus are mentioned, 12) IG II² 1297, Athens near Dipylon gate, thiasotai, hon. decr. for archeranistes, who convened the worshippers, list of names 38 men and 21 women, 13) IG II² 1298, Athens, 244/3 group of thiasotai honouring officials, and regulation to inscribe both, names of priests and priestesses and other officials, as well as names of new members who have to pay to a fund (eranos), fragm. list of names, 14) IG II² 1318, Athens?, 221/11, thiasotai honouring officials, fragm., 15) IG II² 1319, Athens?, 229–203, fragm. decr. of thiasotai with archeranistes,16) IG II² 2346, Athens?, first half 3rd c., catalogue of thiasotai?, 17) IG II² 2352, first half 3rd c., Athens, catalogue of thiasotai? 18) IG II² 2353, Acropolis, c. 215, catalogue of 11 Asklepiastai?, 19) SEG 18.3, Asklepieion, 212/11–174/3, hon. decr. of asklepiastai (koinon) for an individual, 20) IG II² 2947, Athens, 212, orgeones honour an individual from Maroneia, 21) IG II² 4985, Athens?, 3rd c. dedication of Homonias tou thiason, 22) SEG 22.123, Bate, 3rd c., fragm. decr. of orgeones, 23) SEG 41.82, Athens, 300–280, unpubl. decr. of eranistai group of Herakles Pankrates, 24) SEG 41.83, Athens, 280, unpub. decr. of thiasotai of Herakles Pankrates, 25) SEG 41.171, Athens, 300/299, dedic. of stele to Herakles Pankrates, by officials of eranistai, 26) Hesp.16 (1947), 63/1, Agora, fragm. dedication of thiasotai, 9 names preserved. If not indicated otherwise all inscriptions were found in Piraeus, are published in IG II² and date to the centuries BCE: 1) 1271, 199/8, decr. of thiasotai association honouring an individual for helping to rebuild the temple (Zeus Labraundos?) 2) 1273 A-B, 281/80, two decrees of a thiasotai association honouring two individuals, according to Mikalson 1998 (p.146) connected with the Mother of the Gods, 3) 1282, 262/1, decr. of thiasotai? honouring those with epimeletes Aphrodeisios for additional building work at the temple of Ammon, 4) 1283, 269/68, decr. of orgeones of Bendis, regulating the procession from Athens to Piraeus, 5) 1284 A = first half 3rd c., B = 242–239, two hon. decrees of Bendis orgeones, 6) 1301, 220/19, fragm. decr. of thiasotai?, 7) 1314, 213/2, hon. decr. of orgeones of the Mother of the Gods for priestess, 8) 1315, 211/10, hon. decr. of orgeones of the Mother of the Gods for priestess, 9) 1316, 272/1, hon. decr. orgeones of the Mother of the Gods, for priestess and husband, using both terms, thiasotai and orgeones, 10) 2351, first half 3rd c., catalogue of thiasotai? 11) 2943, 3rd c., dedication to thiasotai of unknown deity honouring an individual, 12) 1275, 3rd c., fragm. regulation of a thiasotai group regulating the attendance of members appearance at funerals, mutual help and injustice caused to the members.

2.3 Peak-time for religious associatons in Athens?

37

where either the findspot or the content of the inscription is most informative. Whereas exactly half of the inscriptions from fourth-century Athens mention orgeones, a decline in the use of the term can be observed in the third century. Fewer than a third of the inscriptions from Athens mention orgeones.60 Four interesting inscriptions dating from the early third century61 were found in the Athenian sanctuary of Herakles, Pankrates and Palaimon by the river Ilissos. This sanctuary consisted of an open air-court that was cut out of the pre-existing rock as well as natural steps that might have served as seats. In Robert Parker’s opinion there is no “humbler emplacement for the gods”.62 According to the datable material, among which were 58 votive reliefs, the sanctuary was mainly in use from the fifth century until the middle of the third century BCE. Most of the votive-reliefs can be dated to the time of Lykourgos and the decade between 330 and 320 BCE.63 Two of the four unpublished inscriptions are dedicated to Pankrates by an eranistai association.64 The third inscription is a decree by a non-citizen thiasotai association of Herakles Pankrates.65 Even though the inscription does not reveal much information about the group, it is very likely that the thiasotai were mainly located here. In what way the eranistai were connected to the cult remains unclear. A fourth fragmentary inscription lists nine members of an orgeones association of unknown description.66 The inscription is not dated but it is very likely that it stems from the same period as most of the findings. That would make it the first orgeones inscription from Athens to list members. Whether and how the sanctuary was used by the different groups is unclear, since a more detailed excavation report has yet to be published.67 The rich furnishing of the sanctuary, however, shows that it was well-attended for a short period of time. It was probably an ideal place to meet even though it was not immediately in the centre of the city.68 One of the few decrees of orgeones in this period is dated to the early third century BCE. It provides information on two groups of orgeones, one of which can be located near the property of a certain Kalliphanes, the other associated with the 60 61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68

7 out of 25. 300–280 BCE. Parker 2005, p. 419. I do not agree that the discovery of one piece, an anatomical relief dating from the second c. CE can prove the continuous use of the sanctuary over 600 years as suggested by: Touchette LoriAnn 1994. The Shrine of Pankrates, in: CR 49, 1999, pp. 519–520 and Touchette, Lori-Ann 1999. Rev. of E. Vikela, Die Weihreliefs aus dem Athener Pankrates-Heiligtum am Ilissos, MDAI (A) Beiheft 16, and EvgeniaVikela, Ιλισσός (Τοι ερότου Παγκράτη) Ηεν Αθήναις Αρχαιολογική Εταιρεία, http://www. archetai.gr/site/content. php?artid=31, accessed 15.04.2010. SEG 41.82, Athens, 300–280 BCE; SEG 41.171, Athens, 300/299 BCE. SEG 41.83, Athens, 280, Parker 2005, p. 419, n. 13 on non-citizens. SEG 41.84, Athens. The sanctuary was found during an emergency excavation in the 1950s, and only a few brief accounts have ever been published: Mηλιάδης, Iωαννις 1954. Aνασκαφή παρά την κοίτην του Iλισού, in: ΠAE (1953) pp. 47–60, ΠΑΕ (1954) pp. 41–49 and Έργον (1954) pp. 3–5. Travlos pointed out the similarities between the sanctuary with the triad around the hero Amynos since both sanctuaries were supposed to have provided healing power, p. 278.

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hero Echelos.69 They met at least once a year in order to sacrifice together to the hero Echelos and the Heroines. The decree consists of two parts. The older part from the third century refers to an even older text which can be dated to the middle of the fifth century, according to Ferguson.70 The later part gives information about the orgeones’ common sacred precinct for reunions and a place for sacrifices which included an altar. Furthermore, the inscription decrees that the names of the debtors including the capital debt and interest are to be written on a stele which had to be put up in the sanctuary “beside the altar”.71 It remains unclear where exactly the sanctuary was located. The earlier section contains very detailed regulations for the groups’ joint sacrifice in Hekatombaion. The rules are mainly concerned with the sacrifice to the heroines and the hero and, even more importantly, with the fair distribution of meat among the orgeones.72 This is probably the most informative decree issued by a group of Athenian orgeones. Despite its length and precision, however, one learns only that the members of the group attended the sacrifices with their families. No names or places are mentioned. But what does it tell us about their public appearances and their recognition in town? Compared to the orgeones-groups of the same century located in Piraeus which have put their officials and benefactors on display, the group around Echelos does not seem to have been very interested in these forms of representation, but rather mainly concerned about the proper organisation of and participation in the sacrifice. The second decree from Athens contains information about the property of an orgeones association of an unnamed goddess in the third century BCE.73 The in69

70 71 72

73

SEG 21.530, Areopagus, first half 3rd c.: [Λυσίας Περι]άνδρου Πλωθεὺς εἶ̣[πεν· ἀγαθεῖ τύχει]/ [δεδόχθαι] τ̣οῖς ὀ[ρ]γεῶσιν· ὅπως ἂν δι̣[ατηρῆται τῶν]/ [θυσιῶν ἡ κοινω]νία εἰς τὸν ἅπαντα χρό[νον τῶι κοι]-/[ν]ῶι τῶι πρὸς τοῖς Καλλιφάνους καὶ τῶ[ι τοῦ ἥρωος Ἐ]-/χέλου, ἀναγράψαντας τοὺς ὀφείλοντά̣[ς τι εἰς τὴν κοι]/ νωνίαν ἐν στήλει λιθίνει στῆσαι παρὰ τ[ὸν βωμὸν]/ ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι τά τε κεφάλαια καὶ τὸν τόκο[ν ὁπόσου] / ἂν ἔχει ἕκαστος· ἀναγράψαι δὲ καὶ τὰ ψη[φίσματα]/ τὰ ἀρχαῖα εἰς τὴν στήλην· ἐπιμεληθῆναι δ̣[ὲ . . . . . . . . ]-/να τῆς ἀναγραφῆς καὶ τῆς στάσεως τῆς στήλης κ̣[αὶ λο]/ γίσ[α]σθαι ὅ τι ἂν εἰς ταῦτα ἀναλώσει τῶι κοινῶι./ ἔδοξεν τοῖς ὀργεῶσιν· τὸν ἑστιάτορα θύειν τὴν [θυσί]/αν μηνὸς Ἑκατονβαιῶνος ἑβδόμει καὶ ὀγδόει ἐπ[ὶ] δ/ έκα· θύειν δὲ τεῖ πρώτει ταῖς ἡρωίναις χοῖρον, τῶι δὲ [ἥ]-/ [ρ]ω̣ι ἱερεῖον τέλεον καὶ τράπεζαν παρατιθέναι, τεῖ δ[ὲ]/ [ὑστερ]ά̣αι τῶι ἥρωι ἱερεῖον τέλεον· λογίζεσθαι δὲ ὅ τι ἂν/ [ἀναλ]ώσει· ἀναλίσκειν δὲ μὴ πλέον τῆς προσόδου· [ν]/ [εμέτω] δὲ τὰ κρέα τοῖς {οις} ὀργεῶσι τοῖς παροῦσι καὶ τοῖ[ς]/ [ὑοῖς τὴν] εἰς ἡμίσεαν καὶ ταῖς γυναιξὶ ταῖς τῶν ὀργεώ[ν]-/ [ων, διδ]ο̣ὺς ταῖς ἐλευθέραις τὴν ἰσαίαν καὶ ταῖς θυγ[α]/ [τράσι τὴν εἰς ἡμί]σεαν καὶ ἀκολούθωι μιᾶι τὴν εἰς ἡμ[ί]/ [σεαν· παραδιδότω δὲ τ]ῶ̣ι̣ ἀνδρὶ τῆς γυναικὸς τὴν με/ [ρίδα. vac. ] vac. / [ἔδοξεν τοῖς ὀργεῶσιν· τὸν ἑστιά]τορα τῶν ἐπιγ̣ενομέ-/ [νων — — —]/ [— — —]. See also: Ag. 16, 161(1), Ferguson no.1, pp. 73–81; Jones 251–254; Meritt, Benjamin D. 1942. Greek inscriptions, in: Hesperia 11, pp. 282–287. Ll. 1–12, Ferguson 1944, 76. Ll. 5–8. From the regulation we learn that the orgeones very probably consisted of adult males but that their sons, women and daughters, as well as one female attendant, were eligible for a share of meat. It seems as if the groups were of rather limited size, since they needed only one table (l. 15) and shared a piglet on the first and an adult pig on the second day of their sacrifice (ll. 14– 16). IG II², 1289, 255–233 BCE, (ll. 4–16): των ἀμφοτέρων· τὰ μὲν κτήματ[α εἶναι τῆς]/ 5 θεοῦ

2.3 Peak-time for religious associatons in Athens?

39

scription records an investigation before private Athenian arbitrators in which two orgeones associations of the same goddess quarrelled over some ‘common’ property. The decision of the arbitrators was inscribed in the stele: a) the property was confirmed as belonging to the goddess;74 b) it could not be sold or hypothecated75 and c) the revenues from the property, probably by farming, were to be ‘consumed’ in common sacrifices on behalf of the goddess by the orgeones76 under the direction of the priest.77 Whether the precinct was located in the city or in the surrounding area is not stated. This case, however, differs from all the other decrees insofar as the ownership of the property, which is normally clearly assigned to the orgeones, is here in question. Only one clearly identifiable decree from a group of asklepiastai, worshippers of the healing-deity Asklepios was found in the Asklepieion on the south slope of the Athenian Agora.78 It provides evidence for the activity of this group in the sanctuary during the third or second century BCE.79 The honorary inscription, which can be dated to the years 212/11–174/3 BCE, contains a decision to inscribe the names of the association’s members on a stele of stone and to set it up in the sanctuary.80 This trend to inscribe the names of members, and therefore to be much more public about them, seems to be a new element in Athens and probably implies a need to create an exclusivity which had not been there before. In addition it is worth mentioning that a group of orgeones of Asklepios was attending a local sanctuary at south Attica (Keratea) at approximately the same time.81 I am not going to present the contents of the remaining nineteen inscriptions in detail. But it is possible to summarize them and to point out the most important tendencies. As indicated for the asklepiastai, the new practice of listing both officials and members becomes a marked feature of the third-century inscriptions. The inscriptions were set up in order to honour certain officials, to list the members of

74 75 76 77 78 79

80

81

καὶ μηθενὶ ἐξεῖναι μὴτ’ [ἀποδόσθαι]/ μήτε ὑποθεῖναι, ἀλλὰ ἐκ τῶν π[ροσόδων θύ]-/ ειν τὰς θυσίας τὸν ἱερέα μετ[ὰ τῶν ὀργεώ]-/ νων κατὰ τὰ πάτρια.v/ v/ 9 ἀπαγορεύει δὲ καὶ ἡ θεὸς κ[αὶ ὁ προφήτης]/ 10 Καλλίστρατος μηθένα ὀ[ρ]γ[εῶνα τῶν κτη]-/ μάτων τῶν ἑαυτῆς μηδ[ὲν ἀποδίδοσθαι μη]-/ δὲ μισθοῦσθαι [ε]ἰς ν̣․․․․․․․16․․․․․․․/ μηδὲ κακοτεχνεῖν μ[ηδένα τὰ περὶ τὰ ἑαυ]-/ τῆς κτήματα μήτε τ[έχνηι μήτε παρευρέ]-/ 15 σει μηδεμιᾶι ὥσ[τε ․․․․․12․․․․․ προσό]-/ δων λαμβανον̣[— — —θύ]-. With more recent supplements ZPE 138, 2002, pp. 125–128. Ll. 5–6. Ll. 6–7. It remains unclear which group is meant but it refers probably to both groups together. Ll. 7–9. SEG 18.33. A second inscription of the 3rd c. BCE containing a list of 11 names was found on the Acropolis (IG II² 2353) and might be related to the same group. However, since the entire word ʻAsklepiastaiʼ is a supplement and I cannot follow the argument in its favour, I would rather set this piece of evidence aside. SEG 18.33: Ll. 17–20: ἀ]ναγράψα[ι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα καὶ τὰ]/ [ὀνόματα τ]ῶν Ἀσκληπιασ[τῶν ἐν στήλει λιθίνει]/ [καὶ στῆσαι] ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι· [εἰς δὲ τὴν ἀναγραφὴν]/ [καὶ τὴν ποίη]σ̣ιν τῆς στή̣[λης μερίσαι τὸν ταμίαν]/ 20 [․․ δραχμὰς ἀπὸ τοῦ] κο[ινοῦ vacat]. IG II² 2355, second half 3rd c. BCE.

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the group, or often to do both. The lists and honours show that most groups were not restricted to male members but that women could even have important administrative functions. Although little information on the sanctuaries or meeting places is provided, it seems that the groups were to be found in and around the centre of the city and that their affairs were dealt with in public. Individual rules and regulations, lists of members and debtors, priests and priestesses were often displayed in public.82 It seems as if there was a shift from well-organised but rather anonymous groups, mostly calling themselves ʻorgeonesʼ and bound to a specific private precinct, towards more visible religious associations of greater variety and flexibility, which conducted their rituals in and around public sanctuaries. These ʻnewʼ orgeones, it seems, were especially active in Piraeus. I shall return to this consideration in the conclusion of this chapter; before that, however, I would like to introduce the evidence from Piraeus itself. A small number of orgeones dominated the religious associations of Piraeus during the third century BCE. While two of them can be classified under the category ʻorgeones of Bendisʼ, the other group, devoted to the Mother of the Gods, appears here for the first time in the epigraphic record. The first decree of the orgeones of Bendis found in Piraeus actually refers to legislation for the people from Thrace in Athens.83 It contains instructions provided by the oracle of Dodona according to which the Thracians were now allowed to set up a temple on Attic soil.84 Further on, the text mentions two groups, one of which is responsible for a procession from Athens to Piraeus. The course of the procession is meticulously planned. The first stop of the procession is at a nymphaion where a purification ritual seems to be taking place.85 The epimeletai in charge are then to distribute banqueting crowns among the participants, who are then to dine together in the sanctuary of the goddess. The second inscription, an honorary decree, consists of two separate parts with different dates.86 Neither text offers any information about the association’s meeting place, but they do mention a sanctuary in which the stele is to be set up.87

82 83 84

85 86 87

Most inscriptions with an identifiable finding-spot were discovered in or around the Agora and the Acropolis. Others were found in the sanctuary to which they belonged. IG II² 1283. IG II² 1283, ll. 4–9: ἐπειδὴ τοῦ δήμου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων δεδωκότος τοῖς Θραιξὶ μ-/ 5 όνοις τῶν ἄλλων ἐθνῶν τὴν ἔγκτησιν καὶ τὴν ἵδρυσιν τοῦ/ ἱεροῦ κατὰ τὴν μ[α]ντείαν τὴν ἐγ Δωδώνης καὶ τὴν πονπὴν π-/ ένπειν ἀπὸ τῆς ἑστίας τῆς ἐκκ τοῦ πρυτανείου καὶ νῦν οἱ/ ἡι[ρη]μένοι ἐν τῶι ἄστει κατασκευάσασθαι ἱερὸν οἴοντα-/ ι δεῖν οἰκείως διακεῖ[σθ]αι πρὸς ἀλλήλους. On the pre-existing sanctuary in Athens see Ferguson 1944, p. 97. IG II² 1283, ll. 16–20: τ[οὺς δὲ ἐ]-/ ν τῶι Πειραιεῖ ἐπιμελητὰς ὑποδέχεσσθαι τούτου[ς παρέ]-/ χοντας ἔν τε τῶι Νυμφαίωι σφγγους καὶ λεκάνας κ[αὶ ὕδωρ]/ καὶ στεφάνους καὶ ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι ἄριστον καθάπερ [καὶ ἑαυ]-/ 20 τοῖς παρασκευάζουσιν. 1284 A-B, Piraeus, A = first half 3rd c. BCE, B = 242–239 BCE. Ll. 14–18: [ἀ]/ ναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα τὸν γρα-/ ατέα ἐν στήλει/ λιθίνει καὶ στῆσαι ἐν / ἱερῶι, τὸν δὲ ταμίαν μερίσαι δραχ. And ll. 32–35: ἀναγράψαι/ δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα τὸν/ γραμματέα ἐ-/ ν στήλει λιθίνει καὶ στῆσαι ἐν τῶι ἱ[ερ]-/ ῶι, τὸν δὲ ταμίαν μερίσαι δραχμὰς.

2.3 Peak-time for religious associatons in Athens?

41

Much ink has been spilled over the differentiation between Thracian and citizen orgeones, and their first appearance in the city. Suffice it to say that scholars agreed that both inscriptions from Piraeus were set up by the ‘Thracian’ orgeones.88 In his detailed analysis of the Attic orgeones, Ferguson divided them into two ‘classes’. Class A includes orgeones in the sense of groups organised around heroes, class B includes those orgeones assembled around “higher deities, mostly of foreign origin”.89 Leaving aside the issue of anachronism, the categorisation does not make much sense to me, especially since his collection of Class B orgeones consists of just four groups, of which one is not very foreign at all.90 All in all the evidence is too sparse to justify such a division. I would rather suggest a development in the use of the term from a purely Attic fifth-century terminology for a specific religious group to a rather widely framed use of the term which – as far as the epigraphic record tells us – appears only twice in the first half of the first century91 and almost died out in Roman times. This was happening hand in hand with an actual transformation of the inner structure of orgeones. Coming back to the example of the orgeones of Bendis, it remains unclear whether the term was used to describe the cultic groups of Bendis from the beginning,92 whether it was adopted as soon as Athenian citizens joined the groups, or as soon as foreigners became citizens. A clear shift in the naming practice of one specific association can be observed in the case of the well documented cult of the Mother of the Gods.93 The earliest decree of this orgeones-association was found in Piraeus. 94 The inscription dates from 272/1 BCE, and uses both terms. Above and beneath the main text in a separate field, a priestess and her husband are honoured next to an image of a crown in which the term thiasotai is inscribed. In the main text, however, the word used is orgeones. About ten years earlier the Metroon in Piraeus had been occupied by a group of ‘foreign’ thiasotai worshipping the Mother of the Gods, and this may have become part of the later group now named orgeones.95 Two inscriptions of these orgeones of the third century BCE were found in the precinct on the peninsula of Akte. Both were honorary decrees for a priestess.96 Athenian citizens identified by

88 89 90 91 92 93

94 95 96

Arnaoutoglou questions the ʻThraciannessʼ of the so-called Thracians, Arnaoutoglou 2003, p. 60. At the same time yet another group of worshippers of Bendis, this time a group of thiasotai, was active on Salamis: IG II² 1317, 272/1 BCE, IG II² 1317 B, 249/8 BCE. Ferguson 1944, p.73. Orgeones of Bendis, Mother of the Gods, Hagne Aphrodite and Dionysus. IG II² 1337 (orgeones of hagne Aphrodite, 97/6 BCE) and IG II² 1334 (orgeones of the Mother of the Gods, 70 BCE). As suggested by Planeaux 2000, p. 188. The Mother of the Gods, a deity reminiscent of a Phrygian mother-deity, appeared in Greece in Archaic times and by the 5th and 4th c. BCE had a considerable following. The Athenian sanctuary of the goddess, the Metroon, was built in the 5th c. BCE on the slope of the Acropolis and served as state archive. IG II² 1316. IG II², 1273, 281/0 BCE. IG II², 1314, 213/2 BCE and IG II², 1315, 211/10 BCE.

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their demotics make up the majority of those names.97 Furthermore a metic and several people with Greek names but without any further specification are named. These inscriptions were found in a Metroon that might have been a house before it was taken over by the group.98 It is not entirely clear whether the orgeones joined the thiasotai which had previously occupied the precinct or whether the thiasotai started to call themselves orgeones. Ferguson argued that the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods were adapted to the standards and habits of their environment, according to the example of the orgeones of Bendis.99 However, there is no evidence to support this thesis.100 The excavation of the precinct of Akte within which the inscriptions were found was undertaken by the corps d’occupation français du Pirée in 1855 and has never been published systematically.101 At least we know that the thiasotai and orgeones of the Mother of the Gods in the third century BCE attended a private meeting place in Piraeus in a temenos102, within which a naos103 could be found. The precinct was in use and dedicated to the Mother of the Gods until the second century CE,104 though it might not have been attended by the orgeones/thiasotai any more by that point in time – their last known inscription dates to the first century BCE.105 The group of orgeones honouring the Mother of the Gods seems to have used the term orgeones, customised for their own needs as against, say, the Athenian orgeones, or the orgeones of Amynos, Asklepios and Dexion. Members and offi97

98

99 100

101 102 103 104 105

Roller 1999, Lynn. In Search of God the Mother. The Cult of Anatolian Cybele, Berkeley p. 219, n. 133 counts 37 names but counts Simon Simonos Porios who can be identified as a citizen among the metics. He was also a member of the orgeones of Dionysus, see Chapter 2.4 and IG II² 1325, 185/4 BCE, l. 10. Another, smaller shrine of the Mother of the Gods (W 3.75, L 5.00 m) was found in Moschatou and was probably part of a residential house. Whether it was used by a private group of worshippers as suggested is unclear, see Papachristodoulou, Ioannou C. 1973. Άγαλμακαιναóς Kυβέληςεν Moσχάτω Aττικής, in: Aρχαιoλoγική εφημερίς 112, pp. 189–217 esp. 202–209. A marble statue of a seated Kybele was found within the walls of the temple CCCA II nos. 306 (temple) 307 (statue). A variety of reliefs, teracottas and statues were found in Piraeus but it is impossible to track down their find spots, see CCCA II, p. 68, no. 257. Ferguson 1944, p. 109. Ferguson believed that the foreign group of thiasotai was more or less replaced by Athenian orgeones, which had to include some of the foreign thiasotai among its number as part of the deal to take over the property, p. 109. Furthermore he states that membership in a thiasos would be seen as “social let-down to Athenians” and the few foreigners that had been accepted were “zealous workers” who had a “sense of privilege”. None of this can be supported by the evidence and it seems odd that he did not consider the possibility of integration in Piraeus at the end of the 3rd c. BCE. Vermaseren then reproduces the idea in 1982: “The sanctuary and its grounds as well as the foreign thiasotai were taken over by the Athenians between 284 and 246 BCE” CCCA II p. 68, no. 257. List of finds in Robert 1936, Louis. Inscriptions du Louvre, in: BCEH 60, pp. 206–207. IG II² 1314 excerpt ll. 21–24: ἀνα-/ [γρ]άψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα τοὺς ὀργεῶνας/ ἐν στήλει λιθίνει καὶ στῆσαι ἐν τῶι τεμέ-/ νει[τῆς θεο]ῦ. IG II² 1315 excerpt ll. 25–27: ἀναγρά-/ ψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα τοὺς ὀργεῶνας/ ἐν στήλει λιθίνει καὶ στῆσαι πρὸ τοῦ/ 27 ναοῦ. IG II² 4814, 2nd-3rd c. CE, dedication to Hermes Hegemon. IG II² 1334, c. 70 BCE.

2.4 Orgeones in Piraeus – The case of the dionysiastai

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cials came from different backgrounds, women played a much more important role than in other orgeonic groups, and the concept of anonymity, which characterises the inscriptions that have come down to us from the Athenian orgeones, is far from evident. The orgeones of the Mother of the Gods named their officials and honoured them. It seems as if the term orgeones in this case was a better, probably more official-sounding, choice made in order to lay claim to the group’s standing in society. The members resembled other Athenian orgeones in that they ran their own sanctuary. Hence, in this case they staffed it with their own people. The sanctuary was located in a fairly prominent position on the peninsula of Piraeus. The harbour of Piraeus was developed by the Athenians as their new sea-harbour in the fifth century BCE. Soon after its construction, however, it became the most important settlement in Attica apart from the city of Athens itself.106 Of course such a newly established area welcomed new inhabitants, in the first instance probably those who dealt with the shipping-business. Traders and merchants from various parts of the Mediterranean, from Caria, Cyprus, Egypt, Phoenicia, Phrygia and Thrace, just to mention a few, came to Piraeus.107 The orgeones of the Mother of the Gods can probably be seen as open and flexible religious associations, a joint-venture of foreigners, metics and citizens, with certain links to more ancient groups provided especially by their name, and located in the heart of the economically most interesting and most rapidly developing part of Attica in the third century BCE. The ability to change and the diversity of the membership might partly explain their success over the centuries. The remaining six inscriptions from third-century Piraeus do not add much useful information. They mostly name thiasotai unconnected to a deity or specific location. We may however note the mention of an office-holder honoured for his help with some building work on the temple of Ammon.108 The group’s character is ambiguous – it is not clear whether it was in fact dedicated to the Egyptian Ammon. 2.4 ORGEONES IN PIRAEUS – THE CASE OF THE DIONYSIASTAI There are just seven inscriptions relating to religious associations in Athens datable to the second century BCE,109 against eight from Piraeus. The evidence from the 106 Roy, Jim 2002. The threat from the Piraeus, in: Paul Cartledge/Paul Millett/Sitta von Reden (edd.) Kosmos: Essays in Order, Conflict and Community in Classical Athens, Cambridge, pp. 191–202 esp. 191. 107 Garland, Robert 2001², The Piraeus from the Fifth to the First Century BC, London, p. 101. 108 IG II² 1282, Piraeus, 262/1 BCE. Mikalson 1998, p. 146 lays particular stress on this inscription to support his argument for the predominance of foreign thiasoi in Piraeus in comparison with Athens. 109 1) Ag. 16, 330, Agora, first half 1st c. BCE, hon. decr. of thiasotai? 2) AM 66, 1941, 228/4, Athens, 138/7 BCE, decr. of orgeones of Aphrodite giving thanks for aid in repairing their temple; 3) IG II² 1323, Athens, 194/3 BCE, decr. of thiasotai honouring their treasurer and secretary; 4) IG II² 1333, Acropolis, 130–117 BCE, fragm. decr. by an unknown group for their epimeletai, tamias, grammateus (twice); 5) IG II², 2358, Chalandri, mid-2nd c. BCE, list of

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City does not reveal much about the various groups. We still have evidence for one group of orgeones (of Aphrodite) and thiasotai but further details are lacking. A synodos of an unknown kind is also mentioned, besides various officials of unknown associations. None of the inscriptions indicates a specific location. As in the third century, most of the texts were found in the Agora, followed by the adjacent areas. The texts from Piraeus are more informative. As in the fourth and third century, the orgeones of Bendis are still represented, although for the last time.110 Their decree honours an official who had conducted the procession and repaired the sanctuary. At the same time yet another new form of orgeones-group appears in the epigraphic evidence. Three inscriptions that were found in the same precinct can be linked to the orgeones of Dionysus which are elsewhere referred to as dionysiastai.111 The group seems to have been a rich and fairly exclusive association, consisting of at least fifteen members, mainly organised around one family. The most important person was a very rich individual named Dionysios of Marathon.112 An interesting feature of this group is its nomenclature. On the one hand the group’s name emphasizes the connection to a specific deity. On the other hand the members clearly want to be seen as orgeones of some description. Whether this is “snobbishness”, as Ferguson suggested, or whether it alludes to the old Attic orgeones and their special relation to heroes, must remain open.113 Whatever the case, Dionysius appears in the earlier decrees as a member of the orgeones, and also as benefactor and poet,114 and was then heroised after his death115 as an act of gratitude for his generous deeds listed in the same document.116

110 111 112

113 114

115

116

members of association with a priest and an archeranistes; 6) Kerameikos 3, 130/29–117/6 BCE, synodos; 7) SEG 21.633, Agora, dedication of a koinon eraniston to a hero, with a list of 10 names. IG II² 1324, Piraeus, 190 BCE. A) IG II² 1325, 185/4 BCE; B) IG II² 1326 176/5 BCE. LGPN vol. II, s.v. Dionysios no. 50. The list of members appears in IG II² 1325, ll. 3–17: Διονύσιος Ἀγαθοκλέους Μαραθώνιος/ Ἀγαθοκλῆς Διονυσίου Μαραθώνιος/ 5 Σόλων Ἑρμογένου Χολαργεύς/ Ἐπιχάρη Κράτωνος Σκαμβωνίδης/ Ἰσοκράτης Σατύρου Κυδαθηναιεύς/ Ἄνδρων Σωσάνδρου Ἁμαξαντεύς/ Διονυσογένης Διονυσίου Παιανιεύς/ 10 Σίμων Σίμωνος Πόριος/ Φιλόστρατος Διονυσίου Πόριος/ Λέων Σίμου Ἐλαιούσιος/ Θεόδοτος Τιμησίωνος Φλυεύς/ Δίων Ἀντιλόχου Λαμπτρεύς/ 15 Ἡρακλείδης Θεοδώρου Παιονίδης/ Καλλικράτης Τιμησίωνος Κηφισιεύς/ Ἀπολλόδωρος Ἀπολλωνίου Λαμπτρεύς. On the special position of the family and Dionysios within the group see Jaccottet, Anne-Françoise 2003. Choisir Dionysos. Les associations dionysiaques ou la face cachée du dionysisme, Vol. I: Text; II: Documents, Zürich, esp. I p. 25 and II p. 168. Ferguson 1944, p. 118. IG II² 2948, 185–175 BCE: τόνδε νεώ σοι, ἄναξ, Διονύσιος εἵσατο τῆιδε/ καὶ τέμενος θυόεν καὶ ξόαν’ εἴκελά σοι/ καὶ πάντ’, οὐ πλοῦτον κρίνας πολυάργυρον αὔξειν/ ἐν δόμωι ὡς τὸ σέβειν, Βάκχε, τὰ σοὶ νόμιμα./ 5 [ἀ]νθ’ ὧν, ὦ Διόνυσ’, ὢν ἵλαος οἶκον ἅμ’ αὐτοῦ/ [καὶ] γενεὴν σώιζοις πάντα τε σὸν θίασον. IG II² 1326, ll. 23–27: ἵνα ο[ὖ]ν φαίνωνται οἱ τὴν σύνοδον φέρον-/ τες μεμνη[μ]ένοι αὐτοῦ καὶ ζῶντος καὶ μετηλλα-/ 25 χότος τὸν β[ίο]ν τῆς πρὸς αὐτοὺς μεγαλοψυχίας/ καὶ εὐ[νοίας κ]αὶ ἀντὶ τούτων φανεροὶ ὦσιν τιμῶν-/ τες τοὺς ἐξ [ἐκ]είνου γεγονότας (…). The same document makes his son, Agathokles, life-long priest of the group, IG II² 1326, ll.

2.4 Orgeones in Piraeus – The case of the dionysiastai

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The special interest of the inscriptions erected by the dionysiastai is that they were found in proximity of a precinct that looked very much like a luxurious Hellenistic house. More precisely, they were set up in the corner of a stoa at the foot of a stairway leading into the house.117 The group owned or rented a naos where they could set up their stelae,118 a place for reunions and the common meal, and, no doubt attached to it, a storage-area for dishes and sacrificial objects.119 All of these seem to have been of a private nature. Furthermore, a sanctuary proper is mentioned as well.120 It is uncertain whether the house was the private meeting place of the group. However, in view of the fact that the inscriptions were found so close to the entrance, it must be considered likely.121 Finally, from the end of the century there survives a list of 52 worshippers of Sabazios, an Anatolian (Phrygian) or possibly Phoenician deity often equated with Dionysus, probably due to the orgiastic character attributed to his cult.122 Among the officials mentioned are a hiereus, a grammateus, a treasurer and an epimeletes.123 The second century thus marks a change in both the distribution and the nature of the epigraphic evidence. Not only does Piraeus begin to provide slightly more such evidence than the city of Athens itself, but the most genuinely Athenian form of religious association, the orgeones, seems to have reached the port-town and in the process become transformed. Perhaps the evidence provided by the group of orgeones of Dionysus thus marks a further development in the history of religious associations. Now it seems to be possible to use the term orgeones to describe a specific group centred upon a single deity rather freely and for a variety of associations. This development can also be observed in the case of the orgeones of the

117 118 119

120 121

122 123

33–36: δεδόχθαι τοῖς ὀργεῶσιν, τὴν ἱερεω-/ [σύ]νην τοῦ Δ[ι]ονύσου δεδόσθαι Ἀγαθοκλεῖ Διονυσίου/ 35 [Μα]ραθωνίωι καὶ ὑπάρχειν αὐτῶι διὰ βίου. Jaccottet II, pp.164–166 has tried carefully to interpret the small pieces of the puzzle that came down to us. IG II² 1325, l. 31: ἀναγρά-/ [ψαι δὲ τὸ ψήφισμα τόδε ἐν στήλει λιθί]νει καὶ στῆσαι παρὰ τὸν νεὼ τοῦ θεοῦ; IG II² 1326, l. 50: ἀναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα ἐ/ στήλει λιθίνει καὶ στῆσαι παρὰ τὸν νεὼ τοῦ θεοῦ. IG II² 1325, ll. 25– 26: καὶ τὴν λοιπὴν χορηγίαν πᾶσαν τὴν δέο-/ [υσαν εἰς τὰ ἱερὰ καὶ τόπον εἰ]ς ὃν συνιόντες καθ’ ἕκαστον μῆνα μεθέξουσιν τῶν ἱερῶν; IG II² 1326, ll. 13–16: καὶ τό-/ πον μετὰ τῆς ἄλλης χορηγίας πάσης εἰς ὃν συν-/ ιόντες θύσο[υ]σιν κατὰ μῆνα ἕκαστον τῶι θεῶι κα-/ 15 τὰ τὰ πάτρια (…). IG II² 1326, l. 47: ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι παρὰ τὸν θεόν. Three other inscriptions from Piraeus can be related to orgeonic associations. Two of these relate to the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods mentioned earlier. The more important of them is divided into two parts, the earlier of which contains a regulation about decoration during festivals and the organisation of auxiliary religious personnel. IG II² 1328 A-B, A = 183–2/B = 175/4 BCE. The later section is simply an hon. decr. for a female zakoros, Metrodora, (LGPN vol. II, s.v. Metrodora no. 6.) to whom privileges are granted for life. The second association, known only from an uninformative honorific decree, cannot be linked neither to any of the known associations nor to a specific deity (IG II² 1329, 175/4 BCE). LIMC s. v. Sabazios, pp. 1068–1071. IG II² 1335, 101/0 BCE, for the actual inscription and a more detailed analysis of the group and its members see Chapter 4.5.

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Mother of the Gods,124 or in fact even in the naming of the orgeones of Bendis and would continue in the first century BCE. 2.5 DECREASE IN EVIDENCE There are just four surviving inscriptions concerning religious associations of the first-century BCE from Athens itself.125 The most interesting one, which was found on the Acropolis, is a regulation by the heroistai, ‘worshippers of the Hero’, concerning participation in sacrifices and the appropriate payments for them.126 The only two first-century BCE inscriptions from Piraeus were both set up by orgeones associations in honour of priestesses.127 One is by an unknown group, but the other contains information about the orgeones of Syrian Aphrodite, a Syrian mother-deity normally known as Atargatis but here syncretised with Aphrodite.128 The priestess in this case was evidently a metic, since her father came from Corinth.129 Given the important role played by Syrian Atargatis on Delos, where the Syrian goddess and her worshippers are well-represented from the second century BCE onwards, it is odd that we have only this one late inscription from Piraeus. The absence may however be due merely to the chances of survival: there is, for example, not a shred of evidence for Isis in Piraeus between the official acceptance of the cult in the fourth century BCE and the second century CE.130 Between these dates Isis only appears in Attica as part of the cult of Serapis.131

124 The link between the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods and the dionysiastai is also worth noting: as already mentioned, Simon of Poros was very probably at the same time a member of the dionysiastai (A) 1325, l. 10 and of the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods, IG II² 1327, l. 32 (as epimeletes) and IG II² 1328. 125 1) Ag. 16, 245, Agora, c. 100 BCE unclear fragm. decr. of orgeones; 2) IG II² 1339, Acropolis, 57/6 BCE regulation of heroistai for those wanting to participate in the sacrifice; 3) IG II² 1343, Athens, 37/6 BCE, soteriastai honour an individual for benefactions to the group; 4) IG II² 4707, Athens, 1st c. BCE, dedication to Zeus Naios and the synodos by an individual. 126 IG II² 1339. 127 IG II² 1337, 97/6 BCE, Piraeus, decr. of orgeones of the Syrian Aphrodite honouring a female individual 2) IG II² 1334, Piraeus, 71/70 BCE, decr. of orgeones association honouring a priestess. 128 Hörig, Monika 1984. Dea Syria-Atargatis, in: ANRW II, 17.3, Berlin/New York, cc. 1536–1581 esp. 1567. 129 IG II² 1337, ll. 5–6. 130 IG II² 337, Piraeus, 333/2 BCE (ll. 42–43) and IG II² 4692, 2nd c. CE. 131 Matricon-Thomas, Elodie 2014. Les cultes d’Isis à Athènes: entre aspect «universel» et spécifités locales, in: Laurent Bricault/John Miguel Versluys (edd.) Egyptian Gods in the Hellenistic and Roman Mediterranean: Image and Reality between Local and Global, Leiden, pp. 41–66 esp. 44–45.

2.6 Early Roman Athens: new activities in the centre of the city

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2.6 EARLY ROMAN ATHENS: NEW ACTIVITIES IN THE CENTRE OF THE CITY One single inscription from first century CE Athens has come down to us – a short and fragmentary dedicatory inscription by a group of therapeutai.132 During the second century CE, however, it seems that group activity in Athens and Attica experienced a revival after the low point in the first century CE, which was a period of general economic and political decline.133 Five relevant inscriptions are known from the City and its immediate surroundings, but none from Piraeus.134 Two of these refer to paianistai – a list of members and a boundary stone for a sanctuary135 – while the other two, which were found somewhat outside the city centre, contain regulations for a group of herakliastai and another of eranistai.136 Yet another inscription of the second century CE, the famous text containing regulations for the iobakkhoi, was found in the group’s own sanctuary on the west slope of the Acropolis, in the very heart of Athens.137 The sanctuary, which was located on the main road midway between the Agora and theatre of Dionysus and surrounded by residential buildings, was excavated at the end of the nineteenth century.138 The rectangular main room was divided into two aisles which were orientated towards an apse, which contained an altar and the famous inscription.139 The claim of the iobakkhoi to be the first of all Baccheia (l. 26) is evidently a move in a competitive situation vis-à-vis other similar groups. Indeed, the newly elected

132 SEG 21.776, Athens, 1st c. CE. It is however not entirely clear that the therapeutai of Asklepios were a religious association of worshippers of the usual kind. Rather it seems that the term ‘therapeutai of Asklepios’ describes patients temporarily resident in sanctuaries for the sake of medical treatment. The Athenian inscription just gives us the name of the group and the beginning of two personal names. 133 The Roman interest in Greek religion and the restoration of ‘Classical’ sanctuaries, such as Eleusis, Delphi and Olympia increased from the 1st c. BCE and reached a peak under Augustus. His policy, however, was rather targeted at particular sanctuaries of panhellenic significance and the phenomenon has been described most recently by Antony Spawforth as a “selective cultic renaissance” in which religious associations played no part, Spawforth, Antony J. S. 2012. Greece and the Augustan Cultural Revolution, Cambridge, p. 141. 134 I include here SEG 32.232, a horos inscription refererring to a sanctuary of the paianistai and which was found in Eleusis (τέμενος Παιανιστῶν τῶν/ ὑπὸ τὸν τί-/ τλον). The inscription can be dated roughly to the Imperial period. Other inscriptions of the paianistai, however, appear in Athens in the 2nd c. CE and later, which might allow us to date this inscription among others of the 2nd c. CE (e. g. SEG 28.225). 135 IG II² 2481, Athens, 2nd c. CE, list of paianistai, and SEG 32.232, hiera hodos, Imperial, boundary stone of the temenos of paianistai. 136 SEG 31.22, Liopesi, CE 121/122; Nomos of eranistai: IG II² 1369, Liopesi, second half 2nd c. CE. 137 IG II² 1368, Athens, CE 178, regulation of iobakkhoi on various issues, including admission, discipline, offices, and duties. 138 For the location see app. I, fig. C. 139 See app. I fig. E. For further details on the building see Chapter 5 p. 131. In most decrees of religious associations, the correct place to set up the rules is “beside the altar”.

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priest of the group seems to have been no less a figure than Herodes Atticus himself,140 probably the most famous euergete of Imperial Athens. The iobakkhoi of the second century CE did not have very much in in common with the orgeones of Amynos, Asklepios and Dexion in third century BCE. The meticulously stipulated rules of the iobakkhoi, taking all possibilities into account in a thoroughly legalistic manner,141 stands in stark contrast to the regulations of orgeones in the third century BCE, and may be said to epitomise the difference between the religious associations of the two periods, in the wider context of the social and political changes in Athens between the Hellenistic period and the High Empire. The changes in the content of the groups’ meetings and in the language used in the decrees are very marked. And yet the two groups had one important thing in common: they both erected their meeting places in the same neighbourhood, in fact only a few metres away from one another on the very same street.142 The evidence from Piraeus does not provide us with new insights for the Roman period. The few preserved inscriptions inform us about the fact that the term orgeones was still used in the third century, in this case for a ‘new’ deity and that the area of Mounichia (today Mikrolimani, just next to the peninsula of Akte) was still a place where religious associations were located, as they had been for the previous 500 years.143 2.7 CONCLUSION ATHENS From early on the city of Athens sheltered religious associations of various kinds. In fact, the groups became part of Athenian public life; whether they took part in processions during public festivals as in the case of the orgeones of Bendis, or added to the cityscape by erecting buildings for their meetings or called attention to themselves by means of inscriptions set up in well-frequented public places, for example between the Agora and the Areopagus and in public sanctuaries. At the same time each association kept its unique character, its own feasts. The new associations supplemented the already existing range of groups provided by the polis on a smaller scale that no doubt offered greater intimacy.144 From the fourth century onwards, the epigraphic evidence steadily increases but also it seems as though religious associations now worshipped deities that had been introduced between some fifty to one hundred years earlier.145 Although the membership of the orgeones seems at first to have consisted exclusively of Athe140 On the identification of Herodes Atticus see Ebel, Eva 2004. Die Attraktivität frühchristlicher Gemeinden am Beispiel der Gemeinde von Korinth, Tübingen, p. 104. 141 This feature is probably due to the influence of Roman procedures. 142 See app. I, fig. C. 143 One inscription was erected by the orgeones of a Syrian female deity, the goddess Belela. It lists a number of priestesses and ordinary members, IG II² 2361, CE 200–211. A second inscription was set up by a group of paianistai of Mounichiou Asklepiou (IG II² 2963, CE 212/13). 144 Similarly Parker, Robert 2011. On Greek Religion, Ithaca, New York, p. 59. 145 See the examples of the Mother of the Gods, Bendis, and Sabazios.

2.7 Conclusion Athens

49

nian citizens, the model proved adaptable when groups of foreigners wished to worship together in Athens. Later still, in a third phase, we find these groups – originally created by metics but using Athenian institutional forms – drew in Athenian citizens. Moreover they offered over time greater religious choice in Athens and Piraeus. These new choices were made possible through the adoption and transformation of older institutional forms that had been part of Athenian religion for a long time, and in particular by successfully appropriating the concept and/or term of orgeones. These assocations, originally formed around Attic hero-cults that were often of a highly local character, apparently offered the most successful model for creating new religious associations in Athens and Piraeus. It is however difficult to say much about many of the other groups, since most of them appear in inscriptions only once and cannot be followed over time. Many may therefore have been relatively ephemeral. With regard to the Roman city of Athens, the information provided by the great inscription of the iobakkhoi from the south slope of the Acropolis can be taken as representative of current trends. Their internal organisation seems to have been completely institutionalised. Although the inscription includes detailed clauses concerning administrative procedures such as financial contributions, behaviour during meetings and membership, it does not offer us much information about the cult itself. This is a significant difference from earlier inscriptions by orgeones, where the annual sacrifice figures prominently. On the other hand they did not use their own precinct as much as the iobakkhoi, which met regularly, and at least once a month. It is plausible to see here a shift in the social dimension of religious associations: whereas the early groups existed to support a specific annual festival, the later ones offered a mixture of social intercourse and religious acts. The archaeological evidence for Athens and Piraeus is, in fact, rather modest: only a few buildings can be ascribed to religious associations. A brief comparison with sites, such as Delos, which are better preserved archaeologically, shows that religious associations attested in the epigraphic evidence were likely to have owned at least one meeting-place, which were often attached to sanctuaries or established in former private houses. A similar situation may have prevailed in Athens or at any rate in Piraeus, which, as a later foundation, may have offered more physical space and institutional flexibility. Despite the fact that few buildings can definitely be associated with these groups, numerous inscriptions mention buildings. Moreover, just as in the case of the earlier orgeones, the buildings that can be located occupied prominent positions both in Athens and in Piraeus, are recognisable as premises for associations, and are fully integrated into the cityscape. These groups of orgeones were not restricted to the margins of the city but remained on the contrary very active in the centre of the city throughout the fourth and third centuries BCE. The evidence from Piraeus showed that this part of the city was effected by the same development, albeit somewhat later. If, as I suggested earlier, one sees Piraeus as a newly-established area that was booming in the fourth century, where the neat boundaries of citizen society were transgressed and things were tolerated that would not be tolerated, say, in the centre of Athens, this may explain two phenomena. We can understand firstly why religious groups such as the orgeones of the Mother of

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the Gods and the dionysiastai chose to establish themselves there, rather than in Athens itself. And secondly why these groups were so popular among people from various places in the Mediterranean: they offered a way into a new society through religious and social interaction that was based on a local and previously established instititution. Yet each association was unique and, it seems, differed individually from the old concept of the Athenian orgeones.

3. DELOS, A CASE STUDY The exceptionally rich archaeological and epigraphic material from Delos makes it an ideal case study for the emergence of religious associations, and it also offers an instructive contrast to the situation in Athens. Delos was only partly independent. Various political forces, particularly the Athenians, tried to gain control over the island at different times, their main concern being the panhellenic Apollo sanctuary.1 In the years 314–166 BCE, Delos became part of a league of islanders whose dominant figure was Ptolemy I; a measure of Egyptian influence was thus guaranteed. The island acquired increasing importance as a trade centre for wood and cereals, which led in turn to the wealth that permitted the foundation of sanctuaries, especially from the second century BCE onwards.2 It was also in this period that the main urban development of Delos took place. Following the third Macedonian War (172–168 BCE), Delos was handed over to Athenian magistrates by the Roman Senate, and the native inhabitants were expelled in 166 BCE for supporting the Antigonids.3 One result of its resettlement was that Delos became a centre for the slave-trade in the eastern Mediterranean. Otherwise, the period of the Athenian ‘protectorate’ – which lasted from 166 to 88 BCE – was characterised by a remarkable increase in population, leading to the enlargement of the residential quarters and the harbour as well as the intensified building of sanctuaries. This new wealth became visible in the form of newly erected, prestigious buildings in the city centre often funded by competing Italian and near-eastern private bankers who had quickly established their new businesses on the island.4 Furthermore, there is plenty of evidence for the increase in the number of active professional associations on Delos. They erected splendid assembly-rooms in the heart of the city and appear in numer1 2

3 4

The Athenian claim to control of the sanctuary was justified, according to Thucydides, by the first ʻpurificationʼ of the island, followed by a second one in 426 BCE, Thuc. III, 104. For the discussion over the foundation and extension of the harbour in the Hellenistic period see Duchêne, Hervé/Fraisse, Philippe. Le Paysage portuaire de la Délos antique. Recherches sur les installations maritimes, commerciales et urbaines du littoral délien (Exploration Archéologique de Délos XXXIX) Paris 2001, pp. 53–55. Rauh, Nicholas 1993. The Sacred Bonds of Commerce. Religion, Economy and Trade Society at Hellenistic Roman Delos, 166–87 BCE, Amsterdam, pp. 1–3. See for example Rauh 1993. The new wealth is manifest especially in the new buildings of the ‘Agora des Italiens’, see Trümper, Monika 2008. Die ʻAgora des Italiensʼ in Delos: Baugeschichte, Architektur, Ausstattung und Funktion einer späthellenistischen Porticus-Anlage, Leidorf; Trümper, Monika 2002. Das Sanktuarium des ʻÉtablissement des Poseidoniastes de Bérytosʼ in Delos. Zur Baugeschichte eines griechischen Vereinsheiligtums, in: BCEH 126, pp. 265–330; Trümper, Monika 2006. Negotiating Religious and Ethnic Identity: The Case of Clubhouses in late Hellenistic Delos in: Inge Nielsen (ed.) Zwischen Kult und Gesellschaft: Kosmopolitische Zentren des antiken Mittelmeerraumes als Aktionsraum von Kultvereinen und Religionsgemeinschaften (Hephaistos Themenband 24) Augsburg, pp. 113–140; GD 2005, p. 43. See also as a particular case the discussion of Philostratos of Ascalon in Chapter 5 below.

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ous inscriptions. In 88 BCE Delos was sacked and devastated by the troops of Mithridates VI of Pontus. Four years later, Sulla handed the island over to the Athenians once again, but it was robbed and plundered soon afterwards in 69 BCE by pirates allied with Mithridates.5 Delos never recovered from these violent incidents.6 Unlike the case in Athens, hardly anything is known about the Delian constitution or any of its other political institutions. It is clear, however, that the Delian settlement existed as an autonomous society but for a long time both before and after independence accepted the authority of a foreign power over the main sanctuary. From the epigraphic evidence, it seems that there was an average population of 1200 male citizens in the period between 314–167 BCE, which was subdivided into trittyes and phratries on the Athenian model, and in addition around 1000 free-born persons.7 It also had an ekklesia and a boule,8 very probably based on the Athenian model. Most of our information about both the religious and political administration is provided by the inventory lists from various sanctuaries. These offer an insight into the bureaucratic procedures introduced by the Athenians in the early fourth century, which continued with only slight modifications into the period of independence.9 It is worth noting that the lists are careful and accurate during the period when Delos was under Athenian control, whereas the format of the lists from the years of independence is less disciplined, changing every year in “format and will”.10 3.1 RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS WORSHIPPING THE EGYPTIAN GODS The religious associations that gathered to worship Serapis, Isis and Anubis are well attested on Delos. Such associations are referred to in inscriptions that can be linked to all three sanctuaries. These three sanctuaries, all referred to as Serapeia, were erected close to each other in the same residential area. What was probably the earliest, Serapeion A,11 was built immediately next to the reservoir to hold water from the river Inopos, a location which guaranteed a good supply of water. A flight of fourteen steps gave access to the shrine from the street. Room E, which forms part of the sanctuary, was used for the meetings of religious associations.12 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

GD 2005, pp. 42–43. During the late 2nd c. CE, Pausanias remarks of Delos: “Delos, once the common market of Greece, has no Delian inhabitant but only the men sent by the Athenians to guard the sanctuary” Paus. 8.33.2. GD 2005, p. 38. The archaeological remains of the ekklesia and the boule were identified (see GD 2005 nos. 47 and 21). Hamilton, Richard 2000. Treasure Map – A Guide to the Delian Inventories, Ann Arbor, p. vii. Hamilton 2000, p. 2. See app. I, fig. F for a plan of the sanctuary.The walled complex of 19, 5 x 15, 5 m consists of three rooms and a small podium-temple (building A in image F). Although no inscriptions were found in the room itself, the architecture and the inscribed fur-

3.1 Religious associations worshipping the Egyptian gods

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More information about the actual sanctuary, its purpose and use is provided by a famous inscribed column dating to the late third/early second centuries BCE. The inscription gives an account, in two separate sections, of the sanctuary’s foundation. These two sections differ in both style and content.13 The sanctuary was originally founded at the beginning of the third century BCE by an Egyptian from Memphis named Apollonios, an Egyptian priest who came to Delos of his own accord bringing a statuette of Serapis with him. At first he installed a small chapel in his own house.14 Many years later, the third priest of the dynasty,15 Apollonios’ grandson,16 founded the actual Serapeion on the explicit instructions of the god, who had appeared to him in a dream. He also erected a dining hall in the Egyptian tradition, as requested by the deity (ll. 63–65). The remains of the Serapeion are still visible today and room E accords well with the dining hall that Apollonios II claims to have built. The second shrine linked to a religious association is ‘Serapeion B’, which was built on a terrace on a steep rocky slope at the end of the third century.17 It was approached by a steep stairway of twenty-six steps along a narrow corridor that led up from a shopping-street on a much lower level. At least initially it was run by one person. The building is less well-preserved than Serapeion A, and the northern part of the site fell away over time. In front of the main sanctuary was a row of benches that served to separate off part of a paved courtyard, around which the rooms were arranged.18 Apart from several possible utility rooms, the sanctuary contained a small podium-temple with three chapel-like sub-divisions, each of which was probably dedicated to one of the three Egyptian deities Isis, Serapis and Anubis.19 Some time later, a further room, B, was built on a slightly higher level.20 It has been suggested that it may have served as an assembly-room for one or more associations, since it can be connected, as we shall see, to a number of inscriptions that mention a variety of different groups.

13

14

15 16 17 18 19 20

niture, as well as other inscriptions found nearby, all strongly suggest such an interpretation. The room itself, its findings and the sanctuary are discussed more thoroughly in Chapter 5. The fact that the column does not show any decorative elements, which is rather unusual for Greece after the Classical period, could underline its informative and serious character as well as indicating its importance and the longer tradition of the sanctuary within the competition of three Serapeia. On the basis of the inventory lists of the Serapeion, Hamilton suggests that the sanctuary later became public property, Hamilton 2000, p. 196. Although he does mention the existence of three different Serapeia, Hamilton does not distinguish between them either in his lists or in his interpretations, which seriously diminishes the value of this part of his work. The Egyptian priesthood was hereditary. Apollonios II (LGPN vol. I, s.v. Apollonios no.716) was the son of Demetrios (LGPN vol. I, s. v. Demetrios no. 150) whose father Apollonios I (LGPN vol. I, s. v. Apollonios no. 717) was a priest from Egypt. According to the inventory lists this sanctuary was in use from 202–88 BCE. For the architecture see app. I, fig. G. App. I, fig. G, no. H. See again app. I, fig. G, where the temple is marked A, and the three chapels G. See app. I, fig. G, room B. Roussel, Pierre 1915/16. Les cultes égyptiens à Délos du IIIe au Ier siècle av. J.-C., Paris/Nancy p. 36.

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The third shrine of Serapis on Delos, Serapeion C, is the one whose character is most clearly public.21 It outclasses the other two Serapeia in size and complexity and cannot be linked directly to any particular religious association.22 Nevertheless, among the many dedications found in this rather large complex, it is worth calling special attention to an interesting relief of a banqueting scene, dedicated to Isis, depicting a reclining male figure and a seated female.23 These two figures have been identified as Isis and Serapis participating in the common meal with the community of worshippers.24 The Egyptian habit of dining with the god(s) and erecting an additional building in order to do so is described in the long account of the establishment of Serapeion A by Apollonios.25 A dining-area of this kind might have been located in one of the rooms of the complex, as we saw in the case of Serapeion A (and perhaps Serapeion B too). However, the building is rather badly preserved and none of the rooms could be positively identified as a banqueting hall.26 The number of sanctuaries dedicated to the Egyptian deities on Delos suggests that they figured largely in the religious landscape of the island. During the “Athenian period”, i.e. after 166 BCE, Serapeion C housed the most extensive collection of valuable dedications on the island, surpassed only by the treasury of the sanctuary of Apollo.27 We may assume that cultic activity intensified with the island’s growing prosperity, flanked by Athenian interest in the administration of the temples and sanctuaries – the inventory lists reveal that the Athenian authorities tried to get involved in cultic events when they acquired the island in 166 BCE. The epigraphic and archaeological evidence from Serapeion A and B in particular suggests a particular flowering of religious religious associations. The inscriptions reveal the 21 22

23 24 25 26 27

GD 100, app. I, fig. H. Roussel suggests that this sanctuary was founded privately as a smaller complex in the north but was later enlarged and turned into a public temple: Roussel 1916/15, p. 69. The sanctuary can be located directly beside that of the Syrian gods to the south, on a terrace above the upper Inopos-reservoir. It is divided in two parts: the southern section consists of a trapezoidal area c.90m long that includes an alley (app. I, D in fig. H) leading to a temple (C), while the northern section consists of a courtyard (F) furnished with numerous altars and votive-objects and surrounded by buildings, one of which is a podium-temple (G). In one or two cases a building can be identified with one of those mentioned in the surviving inscriptions, but this is rarely possible. A metroon, for example, that occurs in several inscriptions has been identified in the northern part of the complex (see Bruneau, Philippe 1970. Recherches sur les cultes de Délos a l’époque hellénistique et a l’époque impériale, Paris, pp. 431–435), while the Doric temple of Isis (mentioned in ID 2041), which still contained the cult-statue of the goddess, has also been located in this part of the sanctuary (app. I, I in fig. H). Bruneau 1970 p. 465. Vatin, Claude 1968. La stèle funéraire de Byzance N° 41, in: BCEH 92, pp. 220–225 esp. 225. IG XI 4 1299, ll. 63–65. General questions concerning the banqueting habit and the banqueting in this specific sanctuary will be discussed in Chapter 5. As I pointed out in n. 14 above, Hamilton simply fails to make clear which of the Serapeia he is discussing, but I assume he means Serapeion C, which he also names as the depot of the ordinary votive objects. The precious ones – according to the inventory lists they were extraordinarily precious – were stored in the Artemision, probably for security-reasons, and are listed separately from those in the Serapeion. The doors of the Isis-temple were stored in the Thesmophorion. Hamilton 2000, pp. 196–197.

3.1 Religious associations worshipping the Egyptian gods

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central role of commensality and social gatherings among the worshippers of the Egyptian deities. Traditionally the Egyptian gods themselves invited the worshippers to the kline, the common meal financed by the initiator.28 Many such invitations have been found in Egypt,29 but, probably owing to the nature of the material – mostly papyrus, wood- or wax-tablets – no such evidence has come down to us from Greece.30 Nevertheless, the epigraphic evidence from Serapeion B offers valuable clues about the groups who were meeting in the environment of the Serapeia. At least six different religious associations can be identified: therapeutai,31 melanephoroi,32 serapiastai,33 dekadistai kai dekatistriai,34 eranistai35 and a koinon of enatistai.36 A seventh association, this one consisting of women, namely Charigno and her synthiasitides, only appear in the inventories of one of the Serapeia.37 It remains unclear whether and how they were involved, and at which particular sanctuary or sanctuaries. The organisation of these groups and the ethnic origins of their members are discussed in the following chapter, but it seems worthwhile here to make some preliminary remarks about the main focus of each and their different characters.38

28

29 30 31

32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Kleibl, Kathrin 2006. Kultgemeinschaften in Heiligtümern Gräco-Ägyptischer Götter in der Hellenistischen und Römischen Zeit, in: Inge Nielsen (ed.) Zwischen Kult und Gesellschaft: Kosmopolitische Zentren des antiken Mittelmeerraumes als Aktionsraum von Kultvereinen und Religionsgemeinschaften (Hephaistos Themenband 24) Augsburg, pp. 79–92 esp. 83. On the kline of Serapis and the evidence provided by the papyri from Oxyrhynchus, see Bricault 2013, pp. 394–397. On this specific case see Engelmann, Helmut 1975. The Delian Aretalogy of Sarapis (EPRO 44) Leiden, pp 43–44. The only evidence is just two inscriptions from Thessalonica, which refer to the celebration of a kline of Serapis (RICIS 113/0575 [early 3rd c. CE] and 113/0530 [2nd c. CE]). Unless otherwise noted, all dates in the following lists are BCE, and all references are to RICIS: 202/0121 (end 3rd c.), 202/0135 (first half 2nd c.), 202/0161 (before 240/39), 202/0162 (before 166), [202/0206–07 lists of therapeutai? (95/94)], 202/0210 (95/94?), 202/0269 (119/18 or a little later), 202/0281 (shortly after 116/15), 202/0282 (115/4), 202/0303 (112/1), 202/0322 (105/4), 202/0351 (94/93), 202/0352 (93/2), 202/0384 (after 166), 202/0421(shortly after 166), 202/0422 (between 166–157), 202/0423 (157/6), 202/0424 (156/5), 202/0428 (145/4). RICIS 202/0135 (first half 2nd c.), 202/0257 (124/3), 202/0260 (123/2), 202/0269 (119/18 or a little later), 202/0281 (shortly after 116/15), 202/0282 (115/4), 202/0322 (105/4), 202/0351 (94/93), 202/0352 (93/2). RICIS 202/0135; IG XI 4 1226, (first half 2nd c.), 202/0421 (after 166), 202/0422 (166–157), 202/0424 (156/5). RICIS 202/0139; IG XI 4 1227 (before 166). The dekadistai met, according to their name, every ten days, always on the first day of the decade, see RICIS I, p. 210. For further hypotheses on the meeting habits of this association, see Bricault 2013, p. 293. RICIS 202/0134; IG XI 4 1223 (196). RICIS 202/0140; IG XI 4 1228 (before 166) and RICIS 202/0141; IG XI 4 1229 (before 166). RICIS 202/0421, face Bb col. II, ll. 94–95. For an analysis of the interaction between the groups see Steinhauer, Julietta 2011. Die Kultgemeinschaften der ägyptischen Gottheiten in Griechenland, in: Markus Öhler (ed.) Aposteldekret und antikes Vereinswesen, Tübingen, pp. 185–205 esp. 190–193.

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Therapeutai Very little is known about the organisation of these associations. The term itself appears in the context of worshippers of various deities, but mainly in connection with Asklepios. The term therapeutai is commonly used to qualify individuals rather generally as members.39 There is a continuing debate over the issue of whether the term therapeutai was also applied to one single religious association. I would argue that there was no common agreement about the meaning of the term and that it could be used on different occasions in slightly different senses. If one looks at the case of the therapeutai of the Egyptian deities on Delos, there are two reasons to believe they were an organised religious association: not only are they attached specifically to the private Serapeion A40 but they are explicitly stated in one inscription to be a koinon, i.e. to have enjoyed the same status as other religious associations.41 Furthermore, we know this practice from other religious associations of Serapis.42 Melanephoroi The term melanephoroi, ‘those dressed in black’, seems to have been used to refer to individuals who performed specific roles during ritual performances and sacrifices. Since it cannot be connected with any Egyptian word, it is probably a Greek development.43 The term occurs frequently on Delos,44 but otherwise occurs only once in the eastern Mediterranean, namely on Euboea.45 The term also occurs at Rome, no doubt under the direct influence of the Delian institution.46 Serapiastai This term was commonly used to describe a religious association focussed on the god Serapis, and is found mainly in the Aegean world. I defer a fuller discussion until Chapter 4.

39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46

RICIS 202/0303, 112/1 BCE. RICIS 202/0116, end 3rd/early 2nd c. BCE. RICIS 202/0135, first half 2nd c. BCE. Apart from the Delian therapeutai, other groups of therapeutai of Serapis are known: from Maroneia, RICIS 114/0201 (2nd c. BCE) and RICIS 114/0203 (1st c. BCE); Demetrias, RICIS 112/0702 (1st c. BCE); Kyzikos RICIS 301/0401 (1st c. BCE?); Pergamum, dedication of individual with therapeutai, RICIS 301/1203 (1st/2nd c. CE); Magnesia ad Sipylum, list of therapeutai, RICIS 303/0301 (1st-2nd c. BCE). Steinhauer 2011, pp. 3–4, 8, 16. They appear either as groups or as single persons in 21 Delian inscriptions. RICIS 104/0103. RICIS 501/0184 and RICIS 501/0184.

3.2 Religious associations worshipping at the ‘Sanctuary of the Syrian gods’

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Dekatistai and enatistai The dekatistai and enatistai were groups whose nomenclature contains the most important information about them, namely the date of their regular meetings, on the tenth and the ninth day of the month respectively. Both types were directed by a president, termed synagogos in the case of the dekatistai and dekatistriai, and archethiasites, ‘president of the thiasos’, in that of the enatistai. The idea of a group formed around monthly meetings on a specific day is known from religious associations in Egypt, and may have been inspired by them.47 Two other groups of dekatistai, one of them a combined group of enatistai and dekatistai, are known from Prusa ad Olympum in Bithynia and from Cos.48 We cannot tell whether these groups were organised on closely similar lines to those on Delos, since we do not know anything about their religious or social activities.49 Groups of eranistai, whose members probably paid a monthly or annual subscription into a fund (eranos) out of which the group’s activities were financed, and which adopted the name of one specific deity are well-known from other places in Greece and Asia Minor, especially from Athens. The variety of religious associations associated with the Egyptian deities on Delos is extraordinary. The epigraphic evidence suggests a fair amount of interaction as regards membership and joint enterprises such as the dedication of votives.50 The implication here is that the groups were in fact sharing one or more meeting places. 3.2 RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS WORSHIPPING AT THE ‘SANCTUARY OF THE SYRIAN GODS’ Since I discuss the architecture of the so-called sanctuary of the Syrian deities that was dedicated to Atargatis and Hadad in detail in Chapter 5 below, I need here only to summarise the finds and briefly describe the community that worshipped there as it appears in the epigraphy. The elaborate sanctuary, whose most unusual features are its cultic theatre and series of nine dining-rooms, exedras, was founded on the initiative of an individual in the first half of the second century BCE.51 The dining rooms served different groups of worshippers, namely τὸ κοινὸν τῶν θιασιτῶ[ν] τῶν Σύρων52 and a group of therapeutai of the Syrian deities, who appear in many inscriptions. As in the case of the Egyptian deities, the meaning of the term thera-

47 48 49 50 51 52

See Bricault’s comment in RICIS I p. 210 on 202/0139. Cos RICIS 204/1002, 1st c. BCE, Prusa ad Olympum RICIS 308/0401, mid-2nd c. CE. Bricault suggests that the groups were identical see RICIS I p. 407 and II p. 471. See the cases of Aischrion, Apollonios and Ariston on Delos, Chapter 4.1. Between 128/7 and 112/1 BCE, GD 2005, p. 274. For a plan of the entire sanctuary see app. I, fig. I and for the exedras fig. J. Exedras are a tradition known from other Semitic cults. RICIS 202/0194, Will, Ernest/Schmid, Martin. Le sanctuaire de la déesse Syrienne (Exploration Archéologique de Délos XXXV) Paris 1985, p. 139.

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peutai has been much discussed.53 Here too they appear as a koinon of therapeutai and are presided over by a specific person, both of which indicate that they possessed an identity as a group.54 The term thiasotai appears in inscriptions only before the period of Athenian control. It was clearly the earlier word used for the associations connected to the Syrian deities, and was evidently replaced by the term therapeutai after 166 BCE. What is more, the thiasotai were equally an association of eikadistai, who, similarly to the dekatistai and enatistai of the Egyptian deities, met regularly on the 20th of each month, clearly a Syrian feature that was brought to Delos by immigrants.55 3.3 THE SANCTUARIES OF THE ‘ORIENTAL DEITIES’ AND THE KYNTHEION A large group of sanctuaries of the so-called Oriental type can be located on Mt Kynthos, the ʻpeakʼ of Delos. They consist mainly of open courtyards oriented eastwards and were equipped with benches and hestiateria, hearths. Just a few of the deities worshipped in these sanctuaries can be identified by means of inscriptions. The majority of the sanctuaries, more precisely thirteen of them, are simply designated sanctuaries ‘B’ to ‘N’.56 It is not to my purpose here to examine each sanctuary in detail; it will suffice to take a closer look at the sanctuary of the gods of Ascalon, constructed in the first century BCE, which may be taken as representative of the whole group. This small sanctuary on the slope of Mt Kynthos, basically in the form of a courtyard opening out to the east,57 was erected by Philostratos of Ascalon, a well-known banker of Phoenician origin.58 It is difficult to decide whether this sanctuary served a religious association theoretically open to all or whether it was rather a private area used by a handful of people from the same city as a place of worship of their ancestral gods – perhaps even just those of a particular family.59 It has been argued recently, however, that this particular sanctuary, and the other ‘Oriental’ sanctuaries on Mt Kynthos, might have served as meeting places 53 54 55 56 57 58

59

For a summary of the arguments and a thorough discussion of the issue see Dunand, Marie Françoise 1977. Récherches sur les conditions de pénétration et de diffusion des religions orientales à Délos, Paris, pp. 192–195. See e. g. ID 1417, IG XI 4 1224, 1225, 1290 (συμβαλόμενοι τῶν θεραπευτῶν). Baslez, Marie-Françoise 2013. Les associations à Délos, in: Pierre Fröhlich/Patrice Hamon (edd.) Groupes et associations dans les cités grecques (IIIe siècle av. J.-C.-IIe siècle apr. J. C.) Geneva, pp. 227– 249, esp. 231. The excavation report was published by Plassart, André 1928. Les sanctuaires et les cultes du mont Cynthe (Exploration archéologique de Délos XI) Paris. For a plan of the sanctuaries see app. I, fig. K. See app. I, fig. L. The sanctuary measures 8.00 x 4.60 m in total. ID 1720–21 are dedications to Poseidon of Ascalon found in the sanctuary; ID 1719 is a dedication to Palestinian Astarte by Philostratos’ wife and children (all dated to c. 100 BCE). On Philostratos see: Leiwo, Martti 1989, Philostratus of Ascalon, his bank, his connections and Naples in 130–90 BCE, in: Athenaeum 67, pp. 575–584. 14 people from Ascalon have been identifed on Delos: Leiwo 1989, p. 578.

3.3 The sanctuaries of the ‘Oriental deities’ and the Kyntheion

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for religious associations.60 And indeed, two features, namely the triclinium-style arrangement of those sanctuaries that were equipped with benches and the hestiateria, are clearly reminiscent of other meeting places of religious associations. Owing to the mostly anonymous character of these sanctuaries, it is difficult to say much more about them.61 Where one can identify the deity worshipped, they seem to be of Semitic or Phrygo-Mysian origin; some of them are only attested on Delos, which implies that epigraphic culture had not yet penetrated their villages or cities of origin. A number of dedications by people mainly of Near Eastern backgrounds have been found in the broad context of these sanctuaries, though none can be clearly allocated to one specific building.62 One of those dedications to the ‘first gods’, the Θεοὶ Πρῶτοι, mentions tables and a kitchen to prepare the sacrificial meat in the Oriental manner, with a common banquet for all worshippers, which might imply the existence of rooms for religious associations in which to hold their common meals.63 A more plausible interpretation is that the sanctuaries were constructed on or soon after their arrival by wealthy immigrants in honour of their native gods, but were not maintained and organised as actively as other sanctuaries where associatons met regularly. This hypothesis is especially attractive in the case of Philostratos, who was famous for his benefactions. Not only did he dedicate a double portico and an exedra in the agora des Italiens in the city-centre of Delos,64 but he had also become a citizen of Italian Neapolis (Naples) between 106/5 and 98/7 BCE.65 It might well have been the case that he regularly worshipped his native deities here, probably accompanied by his family and friends, but there is no surviving evidence to indicate that he had organised a regular association.66 Another indication that this sanctuary might have served as a place of occasional worship rather than as the meeting place of a religious association is the very presence of thirteen other very similar sanctuaries on Mt Kynthos. These all resemble the 60 61 62 63 64 65

66

Nielsen, Inge forthcoming. Religious Associations on Delos and their relations to Delian society, in: Vincent Gabrielsen/Christian A. Thomsen (edd.) Proceedings of the International Symposium, Copenhagen Associations Project, September 2010. One was dedicated to the gods of/ruling over Iamneia (ID 2308–9), another to Zeus Ouranios (ID 1723) and a third to a Theos Hypsistos, probably a local Baal (GD 2005, p. 287). A Roman has also been identified; for a detailed list of dedications and dedicators see Bruneau 1970, pp. 476–7 and Will/Schmid 1985, p. 118. ID 2310, on the Θεοὶ Πρῶτοι see Bruneau 1970, pp. 476–7, GD, p. 289. ID 2529, he dedicated the monument to the Athenians and Romans: ll. 18–19: “who (Philostratos) erected for the inhabitants of Rome and for the descendants of Cecrops (Athenians) a double porticus”. ID 1724, 98/97 BCE: “To Philostratos, son of Philostratos, citizen of Naples, who previously was called a citizen of Ascalon, banker on Delos. Publius, Gaius and Gnaeus Egnatii sons of Quintus, to their benefactor. Dedicated to Apollo. Made by Lysippus, son of Lysippus from Heraclea” (translation Leiwo 1989). He might as well have been involved in the worship of the Syrian deities through a Syrian who also addressed him as a friend: the very Midas who dedicated an exedra at the sanctuary of the Syrian gods and appears among the therapeutai of Hagne Aphrodite: ID 2234, 2253, 2254. Further inscriptions that mention him are: ID 1717, 1719 (Agora des Italiens), 1719 dedications to Astarte, 1723 dedication by his nephew to Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia. Honorary inscriptions for him by the Romans: ID 1722, 1724.

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sanctuary for the gods of Ascalon, each seems to have been erected by individuals either for the gods of their respective cities or villages of origin, or for other local non-Greek deities only known from Delos,67 and all were built on the same relatively elevated area of Mt Kynthos.68 At least three of the sanctuaries posted regulations forbidding the sacrifice of goats, a ban probably based on a Phoenician model.69 Such injunctions cannot however be used in support of the idea that some type of religious association used these sites, since, as I have already pointed out, none of the inscriptions refers to such associations, whether Greek or near-eastern. To sum up: although the physical lay-out of the sanctuaries strongly suggests that they were designed for regular religious associations of the Greek type to meet and dine together, the epigraphic evidence does not allow any such conclusion. Collective dining was a common habit in Near Eastern cults, so that it is not surprising that the sanctuaries offered places to prepare meals and to dine. The social basis of this near-eastern practice was not the religious association, however, but rather the family or the extended family, including dependants, friends and allies. Let us now turn to one last sanctuary on Mt Kynthos, namely the sanctuary of Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia.70 This sanctuary seems to have nothing in common with the ‘Oriental-style’ sanctuaries. Apart from differences of shape and size, it is worth mentioning that it had a much longer history: whereas the construction of the other sanctuaries can generally be dated to the first century BCE, the earliest structures of this sanctuary date back to the Archaic period.71 The sanctuary itself was maintained over a fairly long period by dedicated personnel, whereas the sanctuaries of the Oriental type were, as far as we can tell, only used at most for a single generation.72 The sanctuary was enlarged in the period following the beginning of the Athenian occupation, and the epigraphic evidence increases from this date.73 The peripheral buildings, which include dining- and meeting-facilities, indicate that it could well have served as a meeting place for religious associations. For example, one oikos was furnished with fourteen klinai by a certain Patrokles in 250 BCE,74 while two others were equipped early in the Athenian period with twelve additional 67 68

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70 71 72 73 74

Bruneau 1970, pp. 476–479. The summit of Kynthos is 112m above sea-level. Erecting hill-top sanctuaries was a common habit in Syria-Palestine since the mountains were perceived as mediating “between heaven and earth” (see e. g. the example of the Bel-Hamon sanctuary on top of the Jebel Muntar, in: Kaizer, Ted 2002. The Religious Life of Palmyra, Stuttgart pp. 108–115 and more generally Teixidor, Xavier 1979. The Pantheon of Palmyra, Leiden, p. 16 ff). But even in Greece one can find hilltop sanctuaries at various places, not least the sanctuary of Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia on the summit of the self-same mountain. ID 2308 (dedication to the gods of Iamneia), SEG 23.507 (part of ID 1720), ID 2305 (to heavenly Astarte Aphrodite by Damon of Ascalon). On the identification of the regulations see Marcadé, Jean 1949. La pseudo-signature de Nikandros d’Andros, à Délos, in: BCEH 73, pp. 152–57. No. 105, app. I, fig. K. Bruneau 1970, p. 225. Bruneau 1970, pp. 226–227. After 166 BCE: Bruneau 1970, p. 225. IG XI 2 287 A, l. 115.

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klinai.75 The epigraphic evidence clearly suggests that sacred meals were held in these klinai from the middle of the third century until the first century BCE. The archaeological evidence is fully consistent with this conclusion.76 On the other hand, despite the density of epigraphic evidence,77 not one mentions religious associations, members, initiates or specific staff that could be related to them. We are left with an aporia. The archaeological evidence from the sanctuaries on Mt Kynthos suggests quite strongly the practice of institutionalised collective dining, which might in turn be considered as evidence for the existence of religious associations. The epigraphy, by contrast, provides no such evidence, so that we should rather think in terms either of cults that continued a traditional near-eastern practice of collective dining based on the extended family (the ‘Oriental’ sanctuaries), or of informal small groups, probably from the island’s elite, dining together after a sacrifice (the sanctuary of Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia) – both of them practices that overlap with the activities of religious associations but cannot be interpreted as such. 3.4 RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS TO BE LINKED WITH THE ‘SYNAGOGUE’ The archaeological structure of the so-called synagogue on Delos has been much discussed ever since it was excavated at the beginning of the twentieth century. Both the debate and the actual building will be discussed in Chapter 5, so I will again only discuss its general features and the inscriptions that can perhaps be related to the complex. The building itself, which consists of a rectangular complex with several rooms, some of which have been identified as utility rooms, is nothing out of the ordinary.78 A large room, which was later split into two compartments and equipped with benches, probably served for the common meal.79 There is disagreement about the initial use of the complex, some arguing that it was originally a regular house, others that it was a synagogue right from the beginning.80 The first of the six building phases dates from before 88 BCE.81

75 76 77 78 79 80

81

After 166 BCE, ID 1403: Bruneau 1970, p. 229. At least one oikos clearly contained a (kitchen-)hearth: Bruneau 1970, p. 225. One such ‘sacred law’ requires that sacrificants should not carry a key or an iron ring, a belt, shoes, weapons or wallet when entering the sanctuary, but be dressed in white clothes and have abstained from meat and sexual intercourse beforehand, ID 2529 = LSAM 1962, p. 113 no. 59. ID 2333, app. I fig. M. Room A, see Chapter 5, p. 133. Interpretation as a house: White, Michael L. 1990. The Social Origins of Christian Architecture. Vol. I Building God’s House in the Roman World: Architectural Adaptation among Pagans, Jews and Christians; Vol. II Texts and Monuments for the Christian Domus Ecclesiae in its Environment, New York, pp. 66–67, as a synagogue: Trümper, Monika 2004. The oldest original Synagogue building in the Diaspora. The Delos Synagogue reconsidered, in: Hesperia 73, pp. 513–598 esp. 593. Trümper 2004, p. 514

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The interpretation of the building as the earliest diaspora synagogue in the Greek world relies on four inscriptions.82 In addition to these, two other texts have been found in the vicinity, dedicated by Samaritans who describe themselves as ‘Israelites of Delos’ with a direct link to Mt Garizim (οἱ ἀπαρχόμενοι εἰς ἱερὸν ἅγιον Ἀργαριζείν).83 These were found by the seashore 90m to the north of the ‘synagogue’. It is possible that, as suggested by both Bruneau and Trümper, they were originally dedicated within the ‘synagogue’.84 This is, however, far from certain, so we must not simply assume that Jews and Samaritans shared the sanctuary. Yet another inscription apparently connected to a Jewish or Samaritan background was found in a private house.85 In view of the evidence of Jewish worship in the Diaspora, however, one quickly realises that the distinction between religion and ethnicity is difficult to draw because references to Jewish religious activity are often intertwined with or blurred by references to Jewish ethnicity. Unlike other Semitic settlers, who certainly established religious buildings and buildings serving social purposes,86 no such distinctions can be made in the case of the early Jewish settlers. Only on Delos can we find not just inscriptions evidencing Jewish settlers but also a building which might be connected to them as early as the Hellenistic period. We can however identify one feature of Jewish religion, namely Jewish ‘praying places’, the so-called proseuchai, later synagogai.87 On the other hand, a clearcut definition of early ‘synagogues’ in the diaspora escapes us.88 In fact we know 82

83

84 85 86 87

88

ID 2328 (found in room B, 1st c. BCE): Λυσίμαχος/ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ/Θεῷ Ὑψίστῳ/ χαριστήριον; ID 2330 (inscribed on a podium? in room A, 1st c. BCE): Λαοδίκη Θεῶι/ Ὑψίστωι σωθεῖ-/σα ταῖς ὑφ’ αὑτο-/ῦ θαραπήαις,/εὐχήν; ID 2331 (marble base, found in room A, 1st c. BCE): Ζωσᾶς/Παρίος/Θεῷ/Ὑψίστῳ/εὐχήν; ID 2332, inscribed on a bench in room A, later than 1st c. BCE: Ὑψίς-/τῳ εὐ-/χὴν Μ-/αρκία. Whether a fifth inscription belonged to the same group of worshippers remains unclear. SEG 32.810, 250–175 BCE: ll. 1–7: [οἱ ἐν Δήλῳ]/Ἰσραηλῖται οἱ ἀπαρχόμενοι εἰς ἱερὸν ἅγιον Ἀρ-/γαριζεὶν ἐτίμησαν vac. Μένιππον/Ἀρτεμιδώρου Ἡρά-/κλειον αὐτὸν καὶ τοὺς ἐγγόνους αὐτοῦ κατ̣ασκευ-/άσαντα καὶ ἀναθέντα ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων ἐπὶ προσευχῇ τοῦ /θ̣ε̣[οῦ] and SEG 32.809 (150–50 BCE): οἱ ἐν Δήλῳ Ἰσραελεῖται οἱ ἀ-/παρχόμενοι εἰς ἱερὸν Ἀργα-/ριζεὶν στεφανοῦσιν χρυσῷ/στεφάνῳ Σαραπίωνα Ἰάσο-/νος Κνώσιον εὐεργεσίας/ἕνεκεν τῆς εἰς ἑαυτούς. On the various different ancient versions of the name, see I. Benzinger, s.v. Garizin, RE 7 (1910), cc. 766 f. The modern name in standard Hebrew is Har Garizzim, 881m, on the west bank of the Jordan. For its role as the main Samaritan temple, which it retains to this day, see Josephus, AJ 11.8.2 and 13.3.4. Bruneau 1982 Philippe 1982. Les Israélites de Délos et la Juiverie délienne, in: BCEH 106, pp. 465–504 esp. 486–489. ID 2329 and Trümper 2004, pp. 570–71. See e. g. the example of the poseidoniastai of Berytos on Delos who were involved in both religious and political activities, located in different premises. This case will be dealt with more thoroughly in the next part of this chapter. The term proseuche was slowly replaced in the Diaspora by the term ‘synagôgê’ during the Roman period. Proseuchai are attested in the epigraphic record in Egypt from the 3rd c. BCE onwards, see e. g. CIJ II 1440, 246–222 BCE, from Schedia, near Alexandria: ὑ̣πὲρ βασιλέως/ Πτολεμαίου καὶ/βασιλίσσης/Βερενίκης ἀδελ-/φῆς καὶ γυναικὸς καὶ/τῶν τέκνων/τὴν προσευχὴν/οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι. Some scholars argue that from the very beginning, the proseuchai or synagogai provided a

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very little about how diaspora communities used their proseuchai or synagogai.89 Among the tasks carried out by the various institutions, Erich Gruen includes educational services,90 worshipping facilities, places to pray, meeting places, places for commensality, celebrating festivals, storing of records and sacred funds et cetera.91 He acknowledges that each synagoge did not offer all of these facilities – the functions varied from place to place. The key problem is that there is no means of bridging the gap between the rituals of the Temple in Jerusalem, in the hands of a specialised priesthood, and the actual practices of the Jews abroad. Coming back to Delos, we must conclude that the ‘synagogue’ was a meeting place for an association of some kind. It could have been an early Jewish diaspora synagoge, since it provided a meeting-place and contained a water-reservoir, probably a kitchen and a banqueting hall, but it could equally well have hosted some other group. In the present state of our knowledge, its Jewish identity must remain uncertain. We can say with certainty, however, that a group of worshippers of Theos Hypsistos met here, at least for a while.92 We can also identify a group of Samaritans that sent offerings to Mt Garizim in Palestine. These two groups might be part of a wider phenomenon that can be observed throughout the Greek world from now on. During the last centuries BCE we can discern the formation of groups, some of them circumcised Jews in the Diaspora, others simply appropriating Jewish language and ideas. These people appear in the epigraphic record under different names, as worshippers of Theos Hypsistos, the ‘highest god’, theosebeis, ‘Godfearers’, and as Samaritans.

89

90 91 92

place where Jewish people could meet for a ʻservice of the word̓, see: Williams, Margaret 1998. The Jews among the Greeks and Romans, A Diasporan Sourcebook, Baltimore, p. 33 and Hegermann, Harald 1989. The Diaspora in the Hellenistic age, in: William D. Davies/Louis Finkelstein (edd.) The Cambridge History of Judaism 2, Cambridge pp. 115–166 esp. 152. It remains unclear, however, what exactly this ʻservice of the wordʼ included and how it was organised. Other scholars have suggested that these institutions had been developed to meet the needs of Jewish people abroad, mainly to enable them to celebrate specifically Jewish festivals such as the new moon and the Sabbath. However, the only evidence regarding the contents of an early Jewish Diaspora-Sabbath held in a ʻprayer-houseʼ is Philo, Spec., 2. 62. Other evidence for the observance of the Sabbath in Greece is much later, e.g. Paul’s travels as reported by the Acts of Apostles (e. g. Acts 17.1–3), i.e. on the conventional dating c. 80–100 CE, perhaps later still. Other cities that are said in Acts to have possessed synagogues are Athens (17.17), Philippi (16.13), Thessalonica (17.1), Beroia (17.10) and Corinth (18.2). Generally one can find most evidence for synagogai and proseuchai in Greece in: Acts 16.13, 16.16, 17.1, 17.10, 17.17, 18.4, 18.7.18.8, 18.17. For the spread of the Jewish people in Greece and beyond see Philo, Leg. Gai. 281 and I Mac. 15.23. Gruen, Erich S. 2004. Diaspora: Jews amidst Greeks and Romans, Harvard University Press p. 119: “A synagogue was a structure in which or an institution through which Jews could engage in communal activity that helped to define or express a collective identity. This does not imply that these institutions had similar features, personnel, or functions across the Mediterranean world. Nor does it preclude changes in structure, activities, or even objectives in the course of decades and centuries”. According to Gruen they served for instruction in the Torah and the prophets as well as teachings of ancestral history. Gruen 2004, p. 119. The inscriptions dedicated to Theos Hypsistos date from the 1st c. BCE to the 1st or 2nd c. CE.

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The epigraphic evidence is no sure guide to the relation between the worshippers of Theos Hypsistos, ‘Godfearers’ and Jews.93 However, it is very likely that in the Hellenistic period and beyond, the term Theos Hypsistos was used by some non-Jewish groups.94 It might be safest to conclude that the term was open for interpretation and that there existed no clear-cut definition of Theos Hypsistos, of his status, or his attributes. 95 We have no information on the organisation of the Samaritans and the worshippers of Theos Hypsistos on Delos, or whether they were exclusive or elective. Both groups, however, can be related to a specific meeting place, the worshippers of 93

94

95

According to Stephen Mitchell, who dedicated an entire project to the phenomenon, the first two groups were identical. In his view, the Jewish communities served “as a powerful role model” for the groups calling themselves worshippers of Theos Hypsistos and theosebeis. As a result they acquired many Jewish characteristics but never fully converted to Judaism and thus remained part of the non-Jewish world. Whereas the latter claim is certainly right, I cannot agree with Mitchell’s controversial thesis of a genuine cult of Theos Hypsistos with its own agenda and creed that spread all over the Greek and Roman world and whose worshippers called themselves theosebeis because they wanted to be seen as a group separate from the Jews. In the first instance one has to consider that the formula ʻTheos Hypsistos’ was used equally by Jews and non-Jews alike. Since the term is often used in the Septuagint to refer to the Jewish god, it is surely not surprising to find the term in Jewish epigraphic contexts. But nor is it surprising to find it used in the non-Jewish world. As argued above, one must expect that other groups and individuals besides circumcised Jews were interested in the Septuagint and Jewish religion. Moreover, the term was never restricted to Jews or ʻHypsistriansʼ but can be found in connection with various deities. On the debate see Mitchell, Stephen 1999. The cult of Theos Hypsistos between Pagans, Jews and Christians, in: Polymnia Athanassiadi/Michael Frede (edd.) Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity, pp. 81–148 esp. 127. In his latest article on the topic, published in 2010, Mitchell defends his view against various critics, Mitchell, Stephen 2010. Further thoughts on the cult of Theos Hypsistos, in: Mitchell, Stephen/Van Nuffelen, Peter (edd.) One God: Pagan Monotheism in the Roman Empire, pp. 167–208 esp. 190–192. The epigraphic evidence which comprises most of the evidence for this deity suggests a broad range of names that were added to the main term Hypsistos, probably indicating different interpretations and forms of various deities which might have been but were not necessarily influenced by the Jewish idea of one highest god. If, as I believe, there was no widespread cult of a specified Theos Hypsistos, Mitchell’s second argument concerning the theosebeis becomes redundant. Still, it might be necessary to briefly describe these groups here. The fact that the theosebeis often turn up in the context of Jewish groups seems to point in the direction that they were closer to the Jewish religion than the worshippers of Theos Hypsistos. They seem to have attended Jewish synagogai and to have made donations to the latter. Nevertheless they can be separated from ‘actual’ Jews and are treated as a different group, at least at Aphrodisias. Some of the theosebeis appear to have been what Mitchell initially suggested in relation to the worshippers of Theos Hypsistos: namely groups of non-Jewish worshippers who actually believed in the same god and followed the same rules as their Jewish neighbours. However, the term turns out to be at least as manifold as the term Theos Hypsistos due to its unspecific nature and widespread use. Williams suggested the following: “the word, besides functioning as a terminus technicus for a Gentile synagogue-associate, can also be used simply as an epithet for any pious/godfearing person, be s/he pagan, Jewish or Christian.” This statement seems to make the point very clearly: whenever theosebeis appear in an inscription, only the context allows any further interpretation – similar to the inscriptions that mention a Theos Hypsistos.

3.5 Other associations – the example of the poseidoniastai of Berytos

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Theos Hypsistos to the ‘synagogue’, and the Samaritans to their own proseuche.96 Whether the latter term refers to a community of worshippers or to a physical structure – perhaps even to the ‘synagogue’ – remains an open question. 3.5 OTHER ASSOCIATIONS – THE EXAMPLE OF THE POSEIDONIASTAI OF BERYTOS There is considerable epigraphic evidence for groups on Delos, such as the hermaistai and apolloniastai, whose main criterion of membership was a common profession, and/or common provenance, but which also met for religious purposes. Much of this evidence was discovered in the sanctuaries of the Egyptian and the Syrian gods. Two groups however are especially prominent, the poseidoniastai of Berytos in Syria and the Ephesian androkleidai (‘the [Ephesians] who honour Androklos [the founder of Ephesos]’) of Roman times.97 A brief account of the first of these, the poseidoniastai of Berytos and their ‘club-house’, will provide an impression of their similarity and difference from the primarily religious groups discussed so far.98 The ‘club-house’, or rather ‘assembly-rooms’, of the poseidoniastai is situated on a hill in the very centre of a Delian residential area north-east of the sacred lake.99 This complex, which measures some 1500m2, comprised numerous rooms that served both the cultic and the social activities of the members. However, the exterior of the building was styled in a distinctively Greek manner.100 Two courtyards adorned with sculptures and inscribed architraves were probably intended as allusions to an agora or sanctuary.101 The poseidoniastai internalised the epigraphic cultural imperative to an extreme degree. Thirty-three inscriptions in Greek are known, covering a period of about 60 years.102 They suggest that the association was modelled on Athenian political and religious institutions, with an explicit hierarchy and regularly elected 96 97

SEG 32.810, Il. 4–6. The poseidoniastai seem in the late 120s to have called themselves ‘Laodikeis’, of Laodikeia, in honour of Antiochus VIII (121–96 BCE), and only later preferred the term ‘Berytioi’. Androkleidai: IEph VII 3079 (2nd c. CE), with Arnaoutoglou, forthcoming, Cult and Craft, pp. 3 and 16. 98 This term is used by Trümper 2006 in her recent work on the assembly-rooms of the poseidoniastai. 99 See app. I, fig. N. 100 For a thorough analysis of the building see the excavation report by Picard, Charles 1921. L’Établissement des Poseidoniasts de Bérytos (Explor. Arch de Délos fasc. 6) Paris, and Trümper 2006, p. 122. Durrbach provides a succinct exposé of the building and its statues and inscriptions in his commentary to inscription no. 119, see: Durrbach, Félix 1921. Choix d’inscriptions de Délos, Paris, pp. 197–199. 101 X and F; Courtyard X could have served as a common assembly-room since it could host the whole group of members. Room E, accessible through 3 doors, served as banqueting hall beside room Z which provided even more decorative elements. The identification of the third of the larger rooms is rather difficult and must remain unclear. Room Q housed a latrine. 102 The datable inscriptions all fall between 153/152 and 90 BCE.

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offices.103 Its formal status as an association is affirmed by the terms koinon, synodos and thiasitai that regularly appear in the inscriptions. An archithiasites was elected annually as head of the group. Little is known about the ordinary members but we can infer their number from the accommodation provided by the meeting facilities, which have been calculated to provide space for between 68 to 96 persons, depending on the assumptions made.104 The group expressed its loyalty towards Athens by offering a crown to the Athenian demos or by dedicating statues, such as that of Apollo. Around 130 BCE a similar gesture of loyalty was offered to Rome, represented by the goddess Roma.105 The inscriptions do not contain much information about the religious life of the association. But the archaeological remains show that a Berytan god identified with Poseidon, the eponymous god, held the first position in the divine hierarchy of the ‘ancestral gods’ worshipped, followed by the goddess Astarte-Aphrodite.106 One can summarise the situation as follows: the group was a Hellenised Phoenician association, cultivating good relations with the locally-important powers, Athens and then Rome. Trümper suggests that the worship of the Athenian and Roman cults was stressed in the ‘club-house’ and that the group invited representatives from Athens and Rome to join their festivities.107 The political engagement of the poseidoniastai clearly divides this group from those discussed earlier in this chapter. The desire to attract attention is clearly displayed in the choice of location of the assembly-rooms, very close to the city-centre, and the shape and size of the building, both of them features that distinguish it from those of the purely religious associations. The marked emphasis upon Athenian, or more generally Greek, models as compared to the rather restrained references to the group’s Phoenician roots seems to reinforce the conclusion that the chief concern of the poseidoniastai lay primarily in securing the professional interests of the members than in perpetuating their ancestral religious cult. It is not for nothing that they regularly describe themselves as ‘the association … of merchants, shippers and forwarding-agents of Berytos on Delos’. 3.6 THE INSTITUTIONALISATION OF THE DELIAN SANCTUARIES The next question concerns the extent to which we can make out historical changes in the management and control of the sanctuaries. The decisive date here seems to be the re-establishment of Athenian control over the island in 166 BCE. As we have seen, the common meal, organised on the initiative of individuals, was of central importance for the various groups on Delos. Such meals retained their private, in103 Trümper 2006, p. 115. 104 Trümper 2006, p. 116. 105 Mellor, Ronald 1975. ΘΕΑ ΡΩΜΗ. The Worship of the Goddess Roma in the Greek World, Göttingen, p. 66 and ID 1778; ID 1779. 106 For what little is known of the pre-Roman pantheon of Berytos, see still Mouterde, René 1964. Regards sur Beyrouth phénicienne, hellénistique et romaine, in: MUSJ 40, pp. 145–190. 107 Trümper 2006, p. 117.

3.6 The institutionalisation of the Delian sanctuaries

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deed exclusive character, even though they took place in apartments attached to a sanctuary, for example the Serapeia and the shrines of the Syrian deities on Mt Kynthos.108 We may infer that, prior to 166 BCE, no single authority oversaw the private sanctuaries.109 The civic authorities, such as they were, made no move either to prevent the foundation of new sanctuaries by immigrant groups or to regulate them. The Serapeia, for example, seem to have been founded by wealthy private individuals, no doubt prominent in their own communities, and gradually made moves to provide themselves with permanent buildings, evidently without needing to negotiate with the authorities. We can witness this process in greater detail thanks to the long inscription erected by Apollonios II found in Serapeion A: within the space of three generations the cult of the Egyptian gods, which had originally been celebrated by an Egyptian priest, Apollonios I, in a small shrine in a rented private house, was able to move to a purpose-built sanctuary of its own: But then some evil men possessed by envy were thrown into a raving madness, two of whom summoned your servant (Apollonios II, the grandson of the founder) to court with an unsubstantiated indictment, and they produced an evil law prescribing either what the lawbreaker must suffer or what fine he would have to pay in compensation.110

The text unfortunately does not inform us about the grounds for the suit against Apollonios II, and Maiistas’ aretalogy, which describes all this, leaves much room for speculation. The various theories have recently been thoroughly aired.111 It is, however, clear that there was a degree of active opposition to the plans to provide the cult with its own free-standing building, which caused Apollonios II a great deal of anxiety.112 The most plausible reason for this opposition is that the vendor of the land had failed to establish his exclusive rights, which gave third parties the right to challenge the contract.113 In other words, it was not the cult itself that was at issue, simply a clash of financial interests. 108 Individual entrepreneurs were pretty clearly responsible for founding the two earlier Serapeia (A and B). With regard to the sanctuary of the Syrian deities, it appears as if the community of worshippers sub-divided itself into several groups, either organised by priests or by individuals without any sacred office, as in the case of Midas. The inscriptions describe the different groups of worshippers that supported the sanctuary as euergetai and indicate that at least two of the exedras were erected by individuals. 109 The existence of amphyktiones cannot be proven even for the sanctuary of Apollo, although it has often been taken for granted. 110 RICIS 202/0101, 66–68, transl. by Mc Lean, Bradley H. 1996. The place of cult in voluntary associations and churches on Delos, in: John S. Kloppenborg/Stephen G. Wilson (edd.) Voluntary Associations in the Graeco-Roman world, London/New York, pp. 186–225 esp. 207. 111 The various theories are discussed by Siard, Hélène 1998. La crypte du Sarapieion A de Délos et le procès d’Apollônios, in: BCEH 122, pp. 469–486 esp. 478–481. 112 According to Maiistas’ aretalogy (ll. 81–92), the complainants were struck dumb when the case was heard and were unable to deliver their speeches – exactly the phenomenon aimed at by judicial defixiones. From the point of view of the followers of the cult, a miracle; for others, no doubt, (Egyptian) magic. 113 For these rules, see e.g. Velissaropoulos-Karakostas, Julie, 2011. Droit grec d’Alexandre à Auguste (323 av. J.-C. – 14 ap. J.-C.), Athens and Paris, pp. 300–302.

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The period of Athenian control (166–88/69 BCE) marks a clear shift in attitude: the formerly independent Egyptian cults start to be regulated, a phenomenon that can be paralleled in a number of other cities controlled by Athens from early in the second century BCE.114 For example, the managers of Serapeion C now begin to compile inventories of valuable temple offerings (though they stored them in other sanctuaries, such as the temple of Artemis, perhaps because they were more secure).115 This suggests that there was at least a degree of co-operation with the Athenian authorities. Indeed, around the year 155 BCE the lists were recorded in Athenian weights and measures and the officials in charge were Athenians.116 It seems as if the Athenian authorities now, in the second phase of occupation, controlled or tried to control these newly-introduced private cults more than they had done during their first period of power. The case of the Egyptian deities was by no means unique: the process of inventarisation was also extended to the Samothrakeion and the Kyntheion.117 The sanctuary of the Syrian gods, by contrast, does not appear in the lists. This is surprising: given the size and popularity of the shrine amongst the inhabitants of Delos, it is unlikely to indicate that there were very few valuable objects in the treasury, and might be due to its rather informal organisation. According to the epigraphic evidence, the sanctuary was administered by an annually elected priest,118 assisted by other cultic personnel.119 3.7 CONCLUSION DELOS Delos saw plenty of political changes during the Hellenistic period, which over the long term had a considerable impact at the cultural, and more particularly the religious, level. From the late third century the population was increasingly composed of immigrants from all over the eastern Mediterranean, a process that intensified after 166 BCE. These immigrants were heavily involved in shipping, slave-dealing and maritime commerce in general. In the case of the Egyptian sanctuaries, the cult was established by an Egyptian immigrant, who happened to be a priest, in the midthird century BCE, at a period of marked Ptolemaic influence. By 166 BCE the ethnic backgrounds of the worshippers were quite varied. The epigraphic evidence dating from after 166 BCE, where Egyptians are still in the majority, also lists worshippers who had come to Delos from Syria and Arabia. Another novelty are the names of numerous Italians.120 114 Bricault (2013, p. 175) reports a similar process in Athens, Priene, Thessalonica and Rhodes. 115 For a brief synopsis, see Hamilton p. 197–200. The details of the lists appear in translation on the unnumbered pp. between pp. 202 and 245 s.v. ‘Serapieion Treasure D’. 116 Hamilton 2000, p. 247. See also Roussell 1915/16, pp. 209–211. 117 Samothrakeion: Hamilton p. 196; Kyntheion: ibid, 194. 118 ID 2226, the first inscription to name such a priest, is dated 128/7 BCE. 119 They include a kleidouchos and a kannephoros, both of them offices that we know from other cults, as well as an annually elected zakoros (the person responsible for the upkeep of the sanctuary); see Will/Schmid 1985, p. 143. 120 Roussel 1915/16, p. 281 lists the names of known members of groups attached to the Serapeia;

3.7 Conclusion Delos

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The epigraphic evidence from the sanctuary of the Syrian gods that can be ascribed to the second half of the second century BCE mainly concerns priests and their families from Hierapolis, only one of whom bears a wholly Aramaic name.121 In most cases the names combine Greek and Semitic elements, which was a common practice in the Hellenised areas of Syria. The members of the therapeutai that occur in more than one dedicatory inscription mostly came from Antioch-on-theOrontes and Laodicea-on-Sea in Syria, rarely from other Syrian cities.122 Other recorded worshippers mostly originate from Miletus, Ephesus, Cnidus and Nicaea in Asia Minor, Egypt (mostly from Alexandria) and southern Italy.123 As in the case of the Serapeia, here too numerous Italian names appear in the late Hellenistic period. There is only one known Athenian dedication connected to the sanctuary.124 By contrast, the priests belonging to the the Samothrakeion all have Greek names and mostly come from Attica.125 In all these cases the social and ethnic composition of the worshipping communities seems to have become more diverse over time. The most reliable evidence for this is the dedicatory inscriptions of the worshippers themselves.126 We may assume that the original initiative came from individuals from the cities or areas concerned: the foundation narrative, as we saw in the case of the Syrian and Egyptian sanctuaries, centres on an individual from the homeland. But very soon worshippers were recruited among people of more diverse ethnic origins. The broad picture is thus that of cults originally founded by people from the same religio-cultural background more or less on their arrival on Delos but which quickly recruited worshippers from diverse backgrounds. The associations themselves began to worship different deities. For example, the therapeutai on Delos worshipped both Syrian and Egyptian gods at the same time; Italians began to worshipp such exotic deities too. The archaeological evidence reveals the following: although their members were immigrants, these associations were compelled – or chose – to use local building-materials and styles. Very few items, almost all of them from sanctuaries of the Egyptian deities, are extraneous.127 All the buildings under discussion here were built mainly of the local gneiss, with granite and marble used for particular features.

121 122 123 124 125 126 127

they include individuals from all over the Greek motherland and the islands, Italy, Egypt, Cyprus and Asia Minor. Will/Schmid 1985, p. 140. In the later Seleucid period, the great port of Laodicea-on-Sea in northern Syria formed one of the ‘sister-cities’ in conjunction with Antioch and Apamea: see E. Honigmann, s.v. Laodikeia 1, RE 12 (1924) cc. 713–718 esp. 713. Will/Schmid 1985, p. 140. ID 2220. Bruneau 1970, p. 397 lists them chronologically (the inscriptions date from 162/1–102/1) and gives the references. That said, the fact that there is more epigraphic evidence from these sanctuaries after 166 BCE is a somewhat ambiguous blessing, since this increased information is still very selective in ways it is difficult to control. This habit of introducing Egyptian features in Egyptian sanctuaries outside Egypt is rather common and not specifically Delian, cf. Kleibl 2009, 167–70.

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Otherwise, they do not have much in common. Even the ground-plans of the banqueting-rooms that were provided in most of the sanctuaries differ from one another: whereas the exedras of the sanctuary of the Syrian gods have podia in brick constructed against the walls of numerous small rooms, each different in form and size (app. I, fig. J), Room E in Serapeion A and Rooms A and B in the synagogue are spacious compared to the other rooms of either sanctuary, and featured podia on each side revetted in marble.128 Overall it seems likely that there was a good deal of communication between these associations, whether they were mainly religious or mainly professional. The poseidoniastai, for example, were involved in the worship of the Syrian and Egyptian gods. Philostratos of Ascalon was friends with Midas, who for his part was involved in the activity of the therapeutai.129 Other individuals too are known to have been connected to at least two associations, such as the priest Nikon and his wife the priestess Onesako, who contributed funds for the construction of the earlier Syrian temple but also contributed to the building of one of the Serapeia.130 The so-called synagogue was probably shared by two groups, namely the worshippers of Hypsistos and the Samaritans who sent offerings to Mt Garizim. In other words, although the design of their buildings was dissimilar, the groups themselves enjoyed mutual relations. Today Delos appears to us as an outstanding example of the flourishing co-existence of religious associations in the mid-Hellenistic period. But we must not forget that it is the exceptional state of preservation of the sites and the associated epigraphy that gives us such an insight into the Delian situation. We simply do not know whether a similar density of associations existed elsewhere. Was Delos the exception or rather the rule? All we can say for certain is that the combination of prosperity, freedom of movement and religious knowledge were indispensable disposing factors.

128 See app. I, figs. F and M. 129 See p. 59 above and Chapter 4 below. 130 RICIS 202/0194, found in the SW corner of the sanctuary of the Syrian gods; see also Chapter 5 pp. 125–126, n. 107 and Steinhauer 2011, p. 200.

4. THE PEOPLE: PERSONNEL AND PARTICIPANTS The following chapter addresses the question of the membership, and especially the leadership and management of religious associations. What do we know about the geographical origins and social status of the individuals involved in these groups as initiators, officers and participants? The evidence is of course limited to what the epigraphic evidence can tell us. The institution of the religious association could be adapted to any local environment. It could be applied to any deity, whether one that was ‘new’ or one that had been traditionally worshipped. Nor was the religious association conceived as fixed, pre-ordained organisation: regulations concerning membership were worked out by the organisers themselves and might change over time. All this suggests that certain associations might have afforded new immigrants a point of entry into a new civic environment. An important consideration here will be the worship of ‘new’ gods, by which I mean those non-traditional deities unmentioned in Homer and Hesiod, which start to appear in the epigraphic record from the later fifth and fourth centuries onwards, such as Bendis, the Mother of the Gods, Men and the Egyptian gods, and which finally became the focus of cult associations from the third century BCE onwards. These cults are generally thought to have been brought to Greece by immigrants from their respective home-lands, who worshipped them in a continuous manner, at least from the fourth century in private associations, where they were joined somewhat later by citizens. The first question, then, is whether religious associations served non-Greeks and metics as an initial point of contact in their new Greek environments. The next question is whether the cults of ‘new’ gods encouraged the creation of new types of group within Hellenistic Greek cities, or whether pre-existing conceptions of religious associations were simply extended to the ‘new’ deities. In the first section of the chapter I discuss a set of questions in relation to groups devoted to ‘new’ deities, taking the Egyptian deities as a case-study. In the second section, I briefly examine the activity of metic benefactors in religious associations, as attested in honorary decrees. In the third section, I look at religious associations focussed on established deities, taking the example of the dionysiastai, the worshippers of Dionysus. A final section is devoted to patterns of foundation, when and where religious associations are first attested, and why they may have been established in these specific places. Before I start, however, some general problems concerning the evidence for this chapter need to be mentioned. The distribution of inscriptions differs substantially from place to place and over the course of time. The evidence for religious associations is usually quite poor, so that we can only rarely draw reliable general conclusions. On the other hand, some cases are exceptionally informative, although

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even here problems emerge. We can illustrate such problems by looking at a famous second-first century BCE text from Philadelphia in Lydia. The inscription was the work of a certain Dionysios, who had established a private group for the worship of Zeus and other deities in his own house, oikos, to celebrate common cultic activities such as purification, expiation and probably mysteries.1 SIG³ 985 – norm or exception? Dionysios refers to the participants in the cult by using gender and status terms, men and women, freedmen and slaves (ll. 5–6). The text as a whole is mainly concerned with the rules that must be obeyed by all participants and which apply throughout to men, women, free persons and slaves. The stele itself played an important role in the associations’ gatherings: at the monthly meetings of the association each member had to touch it and swear by the gods mentioned in it to obey the regulations laid out in the text (ll. 54–60). The only proper names that appear, apart from the deities worshipped,2 are the name of the leader of the group, Dionysios, who was probably at the same time the group’s founder and initiator, and the name of the “mistress of the house”, Agdistis.3 Thanks to the unusually stringent character of the regulations and the focus on purification rituals, as well as its supposed resemblance to early Christian housechurches, this text has been much discussed in recent years by both classical and New Testament scholars.4 Its interest for me however lies in the way in which the participants are addressed. At first glance, it seems that anyone was allowed to become a member of the group and take part in the cult and the mysteries, as long as they followed the rules prescribed. Granted that one major incentive to set up inscriptions was public representation,5 and another to set out hierarchies within institutionalised groups, the very non-specificity of this text in these regards seems worth noting.6 1 2 3 4

5 6

SIG ³ 985 = Sokolowski LSAM 53–59 no. 20 with the older bibliography. The word ʻmysteriesʼ does not appear in the inscription but the corrupt part was supplemented by Weinreich for the edition of SIG³ 985 and has been followed ever since. The association worshipped various deities, including Zeus, Hestia, Plutos, Arete and Hygieia, to name only a few (ll. 6–11). L. 51. See e. g. Barton, Stephen C./Horsley, Gregory H.R. 1981. A Hellenistic cult-group and the New Testament churches, in: Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 24, pp. 7–41; Seesengood, Robert P. 2002. Rules for an ancient Philadelphian religious organization and early Christian ethical teaching, in: Stone Campbell Journal 5, pp. 217–33; Stowers, Stanley K. 1998. A cult from Philadelphia: Oikos religion or cultic association? in: Malherbe, Abraham J. et al. (edd.), The Early Church in its Context: Essays in Honor of Everett Ferguson (Novum Testamentum Suppl. 99) Leiden, pp. 287–310; Berger, Karl/Colpe, Carsten (edd.). Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Neuen Testament (TNT 1) Göttingen/Zürich 1987, No. 513; Ebel 2004, pp. 154– 158 and 228–232. This topic, namely religious associations setting up inscriptions in public, will be discussed in Chapter 5 pp. 136–137. Since the text does not employ any of the keywords that normally denote religious associations, it must remain unclear whether it was an association of the usual type at all. Even though all the

4.1 The Egyptian deities: a case sui generis

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The explanation might lie in the fact that the inscription was apparently set up inside Dionysios’ house and not, as often was the case with religious associations, in a public place. If that were the case, worshippers were probably controlled at the entrance. Perhaps then the Philadelphia text is exceptional only in being carved in stone rather than written out on a piece of papyrus. Its mainly practical contents differ sharply from the self-fashioning aims of most texts relating to private professional associations in the East.7 Even though this inscription does not appear to contain much detailed information about members and personnel it does provide important information rarely found elsewhere. It reveals that this was a truly religious association focussed on specific cultic activities, whose regulations also covered aspects of the ritual. This brings us back to the initial question of this chapter: we know that, with the exception of the religious associations in Athens, which seem to have developed from groups organised under the auspices of the state, religious associations seem to have been founded by individuals, whom we may call ‘religious entrepreneurs’. With that in mind, I shall focus on such individuals, paying particular attention to the question of who was responsible for the foundation of religious associations (‘phase 1’). Once established, however, such groups needed to be maintained, which we can term ‘phase 2’. At this point, reliable managerial types are needed. Although the Philadelphia text implies that the social and gender status of members was not really an issue, I take it that this was not true for all groups. The final section explores the temporal and geographical distribution of religious associations. Are there patterns to be made out, and if so, what form do they take? 4.1 THE EGYPTIAN DEITIES: A CASE SUI GENERIS The popularity, wide distribution and epigraphic coverage of religious associations of the Egyptian deities justify special consideration in this section. Chief among these are the groups of worshippers devoted to Serapis, which will be examined first.

7

criteria that describe a religious association (such as a specific main deity, ritual acts, a place to meet, fixed monthly and annual feasts) are listed, there is no indication that there was a fixed membership at all. Whatever the character of the group, it is clear that strict regulations concerning sexual behaviour in connection with cultic activities were a major focus of Dionysios’ concern. He was not interested in organisational issues other than requiring adherence to the rules, regular sacrifices and the threat of punishment in case the rules were ignored by anyone. Van Nijf 1997, p. 28.

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4.1.1 Serapiastai and other associations of the Egyptian deities In this section, I examine more closely the internal structure of the groups of serapiastai, since they appear to have been the most popular or successful ‘version’ of religious associations worshipping the Egyptian deities in the Aegean. I also consider such other groups worshipping the Egyptian deities as were active in the same location. The serapiastai or more precisely the groups worshipping Serapis who chose to advertise that fact in their nomenclature, held a special position among the ‘Egyptian’ groups since they were to be found all over Attica and the Aegean from the third century BCE until the first century CE.8 The cult of Serapis is said to have been created as a Hellenised form of the Egyptian god Osiris-Apis in Memphis as a tool for the political interests of the Ptolemaic kings, though this hypothesis is still the subject of debate.9 However, those groups which worshipped Serapis often also worshipped other Egyptian deities such as Isis and Anubis. As we saw in the case of Apollonius I, the founder of Serapeion A on Delos, the earliest worshippers of Serapis and the other Egyptian deities were in all likelihood individuals who had come directly from Egypt. However, as I will argue in the next section, this was often not the case for religious associations worshipping the Egyptian deities in the Aegean. Thasos A second century BCE inscription from Thasos is the first subject of interest. A rather impoverished group of serapiastai resolves to award privileges to their successive eponyms, evidently on the initiation of the current holder of this office, Hypsikles son of Stasimenes.10 The eponym is to take his seat on a “sacred couch”, 8

9

10

Serapiastai can be found in at least 11 different places in Greece (all inscriptions in RICIS if not indicated otherwise all BCE): 1. Rhamnous c. 220 (101/0502); 2. Athens 215/214 (101/0201); 3. Delos first half 2nd c. (202/0135); 4. Thasos 2nd c. (201/0101); 5. Kea (Ioulis) 3rd-2nd c. (202/0801); 6. Methymna (Lesbos) end of Hellenistic era (205/0401); 7. Rhodes 2nd c. (204/0105); 8. Kamiros (Rhodes) 1st c. (204/0217); 9. Lindos various inscriptions, e.g.: 121 (204/0338); 10. Kardamina (Cos) 1st c. CE (204/1101) and 11. Limyra, Hellenistic era, (306/0601, otherwise unpublished) a thiasos of serapiastai. See e. g. Youtie, Herbert Chayyim 1948. The kline of Serapis in: HthR 41, 1948, pp. 9–29, esp. 9–10; Stambaugh, John E. 1972. Serapis under the Early Ptolemies (EPRO 25) Leiden; Malaise, Michel 2000. Le problème de l’hellénisation d’Isis, in: Laurent Bricault (ed.) De Memphis à Rome. Actes du Ier colloque international sur les études Isiaques, Poitiers- Futuroscope, 8–10 avril 1999, Leiden /Boston, pp. 1–19. See now Bricault 2013, pp. 85–96. IG XII Suppl. 365 = LSGS 130–32 no. 71 = RICIS 201/0101: ἀγαθῆι τύχηι./ ἔδοξεν τοῖς Σαραπιασταῖς/ τιμῆσαι τὴν ἐπωνυμίαν/ τῶν Σαραπιαστῶν· ὁ δὲ/ 5 ἀγοράσας τὴν/ ἐπωνυμίαν/ ἕξει γέρα παρὰ τοῦ κοινοῦ/ τάδε· ἀνακείσεται ἐν τῆι/ κλισίαι τῆι ἱερᾶι ἔχων στρόφιο[ν]/ λευκόν· καὶ στεφανωθήσεται/ 10 κοινῆι καθ’ ἑκάστην σύνοδον ὑπ[ὸ]/ τοῦ δοχέως τῶι ἐπωνύμωι στεφά-/ νωι, ἀναγγελίας γινομένης ὑπὸ/ τοῦ ἱεροκήρυκος· καὶ τὰς προσωνυμ[ί]-/ ας τῶν διοικημάτων περὶ ὧν ἂν οἱ/ 15/ Σαραπιασταὶ διοικῶσιν ἕξει παρὰ τ[οῦ]/ κοινοῦ εἰς ἅπαντα τὸν χρόνον ἕως/ ἂν ζῆι· καὶ ἐν τῶι κώθωνι συνομό-/ ψηφος ἔσται μετὰ τοῦ ἱερέως καὶ/ τοῦ γραμματέως καθότι καὶ ἐκεί- /20 νοις προστέ[τα] κται ἐν τῶι νόμωι/ ὁ δὲ ἀγοράσας τὴν ἐπωνυμίαν/ δώσει τὴμ μὲν πρώτην καταβολὴ[ν]/

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and wear a white strophion, a type of hair-band.11 At each meeting of the group the sacred herald is to announce the moment at which the eponym-crown is placed on his head.12 His name is also to appear at the head of every administrative decree during his life-time.13 During banquets he is to have the same voting rights which the priest and the secretary enjoy under the rules formulated in the nomos, the association’s written regulations.14 The office of the eponymos was, it seems, merely representative, not executive. However the person chosen had to pay for the honour, namely (the rather small sum of) 96 drachmae to be paid in three instalments over a period of three years.15 The names and patronyms of the serapiastai, prefaced of course by Hypsikles himself, are listed at the end of the text, though only five names survive.16 No further information, let alone the nomos, survives. The names are all Greek. The honours received by Hypsikles are typical of those granted to benefactors by sanctuaries. There is thus no evidence to link this Thasian group during the second century BCE directly with Egypt. On the other hand, as we saw in the case of Apollonios I at Delos, Egyptians often bore Greek names. It is however more likely in this case that we are dealing with a ‘second period’ text, years after the initial foundation of the group, when it had become thoroughly domesticated. Athens/Piraeus A slightly earlier inscription (215/4 BCE) by a group of serapiastai, perhaps from Piraeus, makes a similar impression to the Thasian inscription in its clear display of the group’s hierarchy, albeit in the Athenian naming practice.17 Unlike the Thasian

11 12 13 14 15 16 17

ἐν τῶι Γαλαξιῶνι τῶι ἐπὶ Λεωνίδου,/ τὴν δὲ υτέραν ἐν τῶι ἐνιαυτῶι/ 25 τῶι μετὰ Λεωνίδην, τὴν δὲ/ τρίτην ἐν τῶι μετὰ ταῦτα ἔτ[ει]/ κατὰ ταὐτά· ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ διαφόρ[ου]/ τούτου ὅπως ἂν ἀναγραφῆι τὰ/ δοχθέντα ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι καὶ τὰ/ 30 ὀνόματα τοῦ τε ἔχοντος τὴν/ ἐπωνυμίαν καὶ τῶν συνσαρα-/ πιαστῶν, ἐπιμελὲς γενέσθω/ τῶι τε ἐπωνύμωι καὶ τῶι γραμμ[α]-/ τεῖ, καὶ ἀναγραφήτω ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι 35/ ἐν τῶι ἐπιφανεστάτωι τόπωι,/ οὗ ἂν βούληται ὁ ἐπώνυμος./ ἐπρίατο Ὑψικλῆς Στασιμένου/ δραχμῶν ἐνενήκοντα ἕξ./ ἐπώνυμος· Ὑψικλῆς Στασιμένου./ 40Σαραπιασταί· Διόδωρος Ἀρχεδήμ[ου],/ Ἀριστέας Παρμένοντος,/ Παιέστρατος Πυθίππου,/ Πολυκράτης Φιλοκράτου,/ Φιλίσκος Κλέωνος,/ 45 [— — —]. Ll. 8–9. Ll. 10–12. Ll. 13–17. Ll. 17–20. On the synecdochic use of the term kothon, a type of drinking vessel, to describe the banquet, see Seyrig, Henri 1927. Quatre cultes de Thasos. Les dieux égyptiens, BCEH 51, pp. 219–233 esp. 227. Ll. 23–24; 38. LGPN vol. I, s. v. Hypsikles no. 18. IG II/III² 1292 = RICIS 101/0201: [․․․c.11․․․․]οσ․․ια[․․c.7․․]ια [— — —] / [ἐπει]δὴ ὁ ταμίας τῶν Σαραπιαστῶ[ν Ζώπυρος]/ [καὶ ὁ] γραμματεὺς Θεοφάνης καὶ ὁ ἐ[πιμελη]-/ [τὴς] Ὀλύμπιχος [ἀ]νεγκλήτους ἑαυτο[ὺς παρε]- 5/ [σκε]υάκασιν πλεονάκις μὲν καὶ πρόσ[θεν κατασταθ]-/ [έντες] ἐν ταῖς [ἐπ]ιμελείαις [τα]ύταις [καὶ τὰς] εὐ-/ [θύνας] δεδώκα[σιν] περὶ [πάντ]ων παρὰ τὸν [εὔθυνον],/ [κατασ]ταθέντ[ες] δὲ καὶ ἐπὶ Ἁγνίου ἄρχον[τος]/ [δίκα]ιοι? καὶ ․σ․εν․α․․ ἐνιαυτὸν [— — —]10/[․․․․] δεδόχθαι τοῖς [Σαρα] πιασταῖς ἐ[παιν]-/ [έσαι α]ὐτοὺς καὶ [σ]τεφ[ανῶσ]αι θαλλοῦ [στεφάνωι]/ [σὺν τ]αινι-

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inscription, however, which was only concerned with the honours for the eponymos and takes the existence of a priest and a secretary for granted, the Athenian inscription honours three named officials, the treasurer, secretary and epimeletes (manager) for fulfilling their duties in a thoroughly praiseworthy fashion. A further honorand, however, is the proeranistria named Nikippe,18 probably a president, for having performed the proper sacrifices at the correct times (ll. 23–26). In the subtended list (from l.30), she is named before the officials who are the main beneficiaries of the decree, the treasurer, the secretary, and the manager. It is assumed that the remaining names in that column, like those in the remaining three columns (of which only the top of column ii survives) are those of the ordinary members. The office of the proeranistria can probably be best compared to the office of the eponymos from Thasos, a largely honorific office. However, in the case of Nikippe, the inscription states that she was explicitly honoured for fulfilling her duties, namely offering proper sacrifices. This is the only mention of a woman in Athens as being head of a similar group without holding the office of a priestess. Both members and officers had, as far as one can tell from the remaining names, Greek or at least Hellenised backgrounds. No demotics or patronymics appear, which makes it impossible to decide whether the people were citizens, metics, or foreigners.19 However, in view of the markedly Athenian organisation of the group (with the exception of the proeranistria), one might think of a ‘second-phase’ period of consolidation, with a relatively ‘new’ deity serving as a focal point. As in the case of the Thasian group, we may reasonably conjecture that this was originally an Egyptian foundation and that Hellenised Egyptians or Greeks with Egyptian experience were among the earliest members. This original group was not sufficiently integrated into Athenian

18 19

δίωι/ ὅταν πρ[ῶ]το[ν] θύωσιν ο[ἱ Σαραπι]-/ [αστ]αὶ καὶ ἀναγορεύειν [αὐ]τῶν τὰ ὀν[όματα]/ [τ]οὺς ἱεροποιοὺς ἀεὶ/ κα[θ’ ἑ]κάστην θ[υσίαν με]-/ 15 [τ]ὰ τὰ ἱερά· ἐὰν δὲ μὴ ἀναγορεύσωσ[ιν ἢ μὴ στε]-/ [φα]νώσωσι, ἀποτεισάτω/ ἕκαστος αὐ[τῶν — —]/ [δ] ραχμὰς ἱερὰς τοῖς Σαραπιασταῖς, [ὅπως ἂν]/ [ἐ]φάμιλλον ἦι τοῖ[ς/ εἰς] αὐτοὺ[ς] φιλ[οτιμου]-/ [μ]ένοις ὅτι τιμηθήσονται καταξίω[ς· εἶναι] 20/ [δ]ὲ αὐτοῖς καὶ εἰς τὸ λοιπὸν φιλοτιμ[ουμέ]-/ [ν]οις εὑρέσθαί τι ἄλλο ἀγαθὸν π[αρ]ὰ το[ῦ κοινοῦ]/ [τ]ῶν Σαραπιαστῶν· v ἐπαινέσαι δὲ κα[ὶ στεφα]-/ [ν]ῶσαι καὶ τὴν [π]ροεραν[ίσ]τριαν Ν[ι]κί[ππην ὅτι]/ [ἔ]θυσε τὰς θυσίας ἐν το[ῖς] χρόνοις το[ῖς/ τεταγ]-/ 25 [μ]ένοις. v ἀναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψή[φι]σ[μα ἐν στή]-/ λει λιθίνηι καὶ ἀναθεῖναι εἰς τὸ [— — —]/ [τὸ] δὲ γενόμενον εἰς ταῦτα ἀνάλω[μα μερίσαι ἐκ]/ [τ]οῦ κοινοῦ τὸν ταμίαν Ζώπ[υ]ρον./ (col. I, 29) [προ]ερανίστρια /30 Ν[ι]κίππη/ ταμία[ς]/ Ζώπυρος/ [γ]ρα[μμα]τεὺς/ 35 [Θεοφάνης]/ (col. II, l. 29) Σέλευκος/ 30 Δωρί[ω]ν/ Εὐβ̣ουλίδ(ης)/ Ἀντ[ — — —]/ Ξε[ν — — —]/ [— — —]. According to Dow, 1937 p. 191, offices such as hieropoioi, tamiai and grammateis appear mainly within religious associations at Athens (or, as I have argued, in places under Athenian influence, such as Delos and Rhamnous). LGPN vol. II, s.v. Nikippe no. 5 (of uncertain provenance). The title is no doubt deliberately different from archeranistes, which normally denotes the head of an association, see also Dow 1937, p. 194. LGPN vol. II, ss.vv. Zopyros no. 135, Olympichos no. 44, Theophanis no. 37, Seleukos no. 39, Dorion no. 11, Euboulidis no. 48, treats all seven surviving personal names as Athenian citizens. Dow, however, thought that they were non-citizens, on the grounds that otherwise they would have called themselves orgeones and/or carried patronyms/demotics. As argued in Chapter 2, however, the naming practices of religious associations in Athens in the 3rd c. are quite variable, as we saw in the case of the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods pp. 45–46.

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epigraphic culture to set up commemorative or honorific inscriptions, just as we would know nothing about the earliest history of Serapeion A at Delos if it were not for the narrative provided by Apollonios II. Rhamnous A third inscription to mention a group of serapiastai stems from Rhamnous.20 The decree honours Apollodoros, son of Sosigenes, of the deme Otryne for having donated land that he owned to the serapiastai so that they could build a shrine to Isis and Serapis. Six named members are to pay for the cutting and erection of the decree. They were members of the group of serapiastai and were involved in the construction of a temple of Isis and Serapis (ll. 14–15). None of the people mentioned at the end of the decree holds an office, but all appear with demotic and/or patronyms (ll. 35–42). Since the text is an honorific for Apollodoros, we cannot make out a hierarchy within the group of citizen members.21 Nevertheless, the members selected to the setting up of the inscription were surely prominent within the group because of their relative prosperity. Whether others, such as metics or non-Greeks, were also part of the group cannot be determined, nor is there evidence for non-Greek origins. Rather, the opposite is the case: the serapiastai from Rhamnous were, it seems, an organisation exclusively of citizens, who chose to name it in honour of Serapis. Yet here again we need to allow for a ‘first phase’ (much) earlier than the first extant epigraphic attestation.

20

21

SEG 41.74 = RICIS 101/0502, c. 220 BCE: [Ἀφθ]όνητο̣[ς Ἀφθονήτου Ῥαμνούσιος εἶπεν]/ [ἐπει]δὴ Ἀπολ̣[λόδωρος/ χειροτονηθεὶς στρατηγὸς]/ [δια]τετέλεκ[εν εὔνους ὢν καὶ ἰδίαι καὶ κοι]-/ [νε]ῖ τῶι δήμωι ἐ̣[ν παντὶ καιρῶι, ἐστεφάνωσ]-/ 5 [έν] τε αὐτὸν ὁ δῆ̣[μος τὰς ἀξίας χάριτας το]-/ [ῖ]ς κεχειροτονήμ̣[ένοις στρατηγοῖς ἀποδι]-/ δ̣ούς, ἀνθ’ ὧν αὐτὸν ἥ [τ]ε βο[υλὴ πολλάκις ἐσ]-/ [τ]εφάνωσε̣ν̣ χ̣ρυσοῖς στεφάν[οις, διατελεῖ]/ [δὲ] καὶ ἰδία[ι] εἰς ὃ ἄν τις αὐτὸν [παρ]α̣κ̣[αλεῖ]/ 10 [τ]ῶ̣ν πολιτῶ̣ν εὔχρηστον ἑαυτὸν παρ[ασκευ]-/ [ά]ζων· καὶ νῦν/ γραψάντων τῶν ἐν Ῥαμν[οῦν]-/ τι ταττομέ̣νων πολιτῶ̣ν̣ ὑπὲρ τόπου ὃς [ἦν]/ ἴδιος αὐτοῦ καὶ βουλομένων πρίασθαι ὥστ̣[ε]/ ἱερὸν κατ[α] σκευᾶσαι τῶι τε Σαράπιδι καὶ τε[ῖ]/ 15 [Ἴ]σιδι, ἀποδ[ό]σσθαι μ̣ὲν οὐκ ἠβουλήθη, ἔδωκε δὲ -/ νευ τιμῆς περ̣ὶ πλείστου ποιούμενος τήν/ τε πρ̣[ὸς το]ὺ̣ς̣ θεοὺς εὐσέβειαν καὶ τὴν πρὸς/ τ̣οὺς ἑαυ̣τοῦ πολίτας εὔνοιάν τε καὶ φι-/ λοτιμίαν· ὅπως ἂν φαίνωνται κὶ οἱ Σαραπι-/ 20 ασταὶ χάριν ἀποδιδόντες τοῖς εἰς ἑαυ-/ τοὺς φιλοτιμουμένοις, ἀγαθεῖ τύχει·/ δεδόχθαι τῶι κοινῶι τῶν Σαραπιαστῶν/ ἐπαινέσαι καὶ στεφανῶσαι χρυσῶι στε-/ φάνωι Ἀπολλόδωρον Σωγένου Ὀτρυνέα εὐ-/ 25 σ̣εβείας ἕνεκα τῆς πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς καὶ φι-/ λοτιμίας τῆς εἰς ἑαυτούς· καλεῖν δὲ αὐτὸν/ καὶ εἰς τὰς θυσίας τοὺς ἱεροποιοὺς οἷς ἂν ἡ/ λειτουργία καθήκει· τὸ δὲ ψήφισμα τόδε ἀνα-/ γράψαι εἰς στήλην λιθίνην καὶ στῆσαι πρὸ τῆς/ 30 εἰσόδου τοῦ νεώ· ἑλέσθαι δὲ ἐξ ἑαυτῶν ἓξ ἄν-/ δρας οἵτινες ἐπιμελήσονται τῆς τε ἀναγρα-/ φῆς τοῦ ψηφίσματος καὶ τῆς ἀνα[θ]έσεως τῆς/ στήλης· τὸ δὲ ἀνλωμα τὸ γενόμενον λογισάσ-/ θωσαν τῶι κοινῶι· οἵδε εἱρέθησαν {vac.}/ 35 Δημοκλς Εὐπυρίδης, Ἀντιφάνης ἐξ Οἴου, {vac.}/ Κλεοδωρίδης Ῥαμνούσιος, Βίων Φρεάρριος, {vac.}/ Ἀφθόνητος Ῥαμνούσιος, Φιλοκλῆς Ἐρχιεύς./ τὸ κοινὸν/ τῶν Σαραπιαστῶν/ 40 Ἀπολλόδωρον/ Σωγένου/ Ὀτρυνέα. LGPN vol. II, s.v. Apollodoros no. 164.

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Ioulis (Kea) At some point in the third-second century BCE, a certain Epameinon son of Somenes was honoured by a thiasos of serapiastai at Ioulis on the island of Kea for his generosity towards the group in providing them with an interest-free loan to buy wood.22 The inscription does not reveal whether he was a member of the group or simply supported it financially. However, the latter is likely since we know that this person’s father used to be an officer who served under the Ptolemies.23 Epameinon is being honoured with a crown which will be announced at the Isideia.24 The serapiastai appear as a thiasos in the inscription and no other names beside the benefactor’s are mentioned. Whether Epameinon’s ancestors were Egyptians cannot be determined. Cos We have not much other evidence about the serapiastai on the island of Cos than that such a group existed.25 However we do know of other groups on the island focussed on the Egyptian deities. Among these is a synodos of osiriastai of the second century BCE, which had eighteen male members under the leadership of one [Ias]on son of Bolichos.26 Some of these men were certainly related to one an-

22

23 24 25

26

LGPN vol. I, s.v. Epameinon no. 10 IG XII 5 606 = RICIS 202/0801: ἔδοξεν τοῖς Σαραπιασταῖς·/ ἐπειδὴ Ἐπαμείνων Σωμένου/ ἀνὴρ καλὸς κἀγαθὸς ὢν διατε-/ λεῖ περὶ τὸν θίασον καὶ φιλότι-/ 5 μος, χρείας τε γενομένης ἀργυ-/ ρίου εἰς ξυλωνίαν τῶι θιάσωι προ-/ εισήνεγκε τὸ ἀργύριον ἄτοκον· [ὅ]-/ πως οὖν ἔχωμεν καὶ εἰς τὸ λοιπὸν/ ἀνδράσιν φιλοτίμοις χρᾶσθαι, δε-/ 10 δόχθαι τοῖς Σαραπιασταῖς ἐπαινέ-/ σαι Ἐπαμείνονα Σωμένου ἀρετῆς/ ἕνεκεν καὶ φιλοτιμίας, ἣν ἔχων δια-/ τελεῖ περὶ τὸν θίασον, καὶ στεφανῶ-/ σαι αὐτὸν θαλλοῦ στεφάνωι, καὶ ἀ-/ 15 νακηρῦξαι τὸν στέφανον τοῖς/ Εἰσιδείοις. See comment RICIS I p. 350 and Bricault 2013, p. 304. IG XII 5 606, Ll. 13–15. On the Isideia (and Serapeia) in the Greek world see Bricault 2013, pp. 372–376. RICIS 204/1101 (Cardamina/ Cos, 1st c. CE), a fragm. of two words, one of which is σεραπιαστᾶν, of (the) serapiastai. However since the other word is γυμνασίαρχο[ς], we can surely infer something about the social status of the person involved; indeed another inscription on the same stone may give us the man’s name, Zosimos son of Zosimos, see Bricault in RICIS p. 409. RICIS 204/1001: [Ὀσεί]ρει ἡ σύνοδος Ὀσειριαστᾶν τῶν σὺν Ἰάσ[ωνι Βωλίχου]. col. beginning at l. 2: [Ἰάσ]ων Βωλίχου/ [Δ]ωρίων Δωρίωνος/ Δάμας Μηνοδώρου/ 5 Πρέπων Ἀντιόχου/ Ἀπολλώνιος Ἀπολλωνίου/ Νικηφόρος Χάρητ̣ο̣[ς] col. II beginning at l. 2: Ἰσίδοτος Ἀπολλωνίου/ Ἀπολλώνιος Δωρίωνος/ Καλλικράτης Πάτρωνος/ 5 Ἀρχέβος Θεοδώρου/ Ἐπίδαυρος Ἀριστέως/ Εὔπορος Δαρδάνου col. III beginning at l. 2: Καφίσ[ιος — — —]/ Ἀθανύλο[ς — — —]/ Ἕλενος Ἀσκ[λαπι— — —]/ 5 Βάκχιος Φι[— — —]/ Νικηφόρος Ἀ[— — —]/ Κριτόβουλος Ῥ[— — —]

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other.27 In view of the patronyms, all the members were probably citizens.28 Since most of the known members of religious associations on the island are metics and slaves,29 and the term osiriastai is unique in the entire Mediterranean world, east or west, we may infer that this group consciously chose the name to distinguish itself from other local groups of inferior social status. A horos inscription of an association of osiriastai dating back to the second century CE has been discovered recently. The first three lines of the inscription are missing, which makes it difficult to decide whether this association was actually the synodos of osiriastai mentioned above.30 Indeed, if this inscription can be interpreted as evidence for a graveyard of this particular group, one has to assume a possible life-span of the association of a period of up to 400 years. The spectrum of associations worshipping the Egyptian deities on Cos is astonishingly broad. Three associations were dedicated to the worship of Isis, the eranistai eisiastai31 and a thiasos of isiastai from the Roman period.32 The third association in connection with Isis is known from a horos-inscription. This thiasos of hierodouloi of Isis was active in the first century BCE.33 Finally, we know of a thiasos of anoubiastai that owned a burial plot in the first century BCE.34 Smyrna Another group of worshippers of the Egyptian deities, the synanoubiastai (worshippers of Anubis), was located at Smyrna.35 Early in the third century BCE they 27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Dorion and Apollonios, both l. 3; sons of Dorion. Apollonios l. 6 and Isidotos, l. 2, sons of Apollonios, see: Besnakes, Demetrios 1994/1995. Oι αιγυπτιακές θεóτητες στη Ρóδo και την Kω απó τoυς ελληνιστικoύς χρóνoυς μέχρι και τη Ρωμαιoκρατία, in: Aρχαιoλoγικóν Δελτίoν 49, pp. 43–74 esp. 57. See Sherwin-White, Susan M. 1978. Ancient Cos. An Historical Study from the Dorian Settlement to the Imperial Period, Göttingen p. 361 and RICIS I p. 406 ad loc. and Bricault 2013, p. 296. See Sherwin-White, 1978 p. 360. RICIS 204/0106. Bricault suggests that the missing section might have contained either ‘thiasos’ or ‘synodos’. He prefers the latter, owing to the existence of RICIS 204/1001: see comment ad loc. RICIS 204/1003 = IKos V 278, 1st c. BCE. RICIS 204/1008, Roman, horos-inscription. RICIS suppl. II 204/1012. This is the first attestation of hierodouloi in the Greek world. On the term hierodouloi and their role in the cult of Isis see Malaise, Michel 1972. Les Conditions de pénétration et de diffusion des cultes égyptiens en Italie (EPRO 22) Leiden, pp. 134–135. RICIS suppl. II 204/1011. ISmyrn 765 = RICIS 304/0201: Ἀνούβι·ὑπὲρ βασιλίσσης/ Στρατονίκης/ καὶ ὑπὲρ ἑαυτῶν/ 5 Ἡράκλειτος Ἀρχιγένους/ καὶ/ οἱ συνανουβιασταί/ Φιλόδημος Ἀπολλωνίου,/ Ἀρτεμίδωρος Ὥρου,/ Εὔδωρος Ἀπολλωνίου,/ 10 Δάμων Λάκωνος,/ Ἀριστοφάνης Ἀρτεμιδώρου,/ Καφισίας Μενεκράτου,/ Μνησίμαχος Θεο̣δώρου,/ Ἑρμίας Ὥρου,/ 15 Ἀπολλώνιος Μένωνος, / Διονύσιος Λουλαναβου,/ Δημοκράτης Φιλοστράτου,/ Ζήνων Λουλαβηλου,/ 20 Τροχίλος Πυργίωνος,/ Ἐπίκουρος Στρατίππου,/ Ἀρτεμίδωρος Διονυτᾶ,/ Διονύσιος Πυθίωνος,/ [․c.4․]ρ̣ων Δι̣[ο]ν̣υσ̣ίου,/ 24a/ {If a and b belong together, line(s) missing in between}/ b. 25 Παρμεν[․․c.7․․]ΛΑ,/ Ζωΐλος Ὡραίου,/ Φιλόξενος Ποσειδωνίου,/ Ἀπελλῆς Διονυσίου,/ Τηλέμαχος Νικάνορος,/ 30 Ζωπυρίων

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erected a stele in honour of the empress Stratonike, daughter of Demetrios Poliorketes and wife of Antiochos I Soter (281–261 BCE), listing their names.36 The inscription is in two fragments that do not match, so an unknown number of names is lost. Only one person, Ἡράκλειτος Ἀρχιγένος, probably the leader or a benefactor who did not belong to the group, can be set apart from the synanoubiastai. Almost all the members have Greek names, though, to judge from their patronyms, two, namely Artemidoros son of Horos and his brother (?) Hermias may have been Hellenised Egyptians.37 Two others, with Greek names, are sons of men with theophoric names for Nabu and Bel, which may have an indirect connection with the famous ‘Borsippa cylinder’, which records Antiochos’ prayer to Nabu, tutelary god of Babylonian kings, to preserve himself, his son Antiochos and his queen.38 Rhodes On Rhodes various groups of serapiastai and (e)isistai can be found in the epigraphic evidence. Yet none of the inscriptions provides details of leaders, priests or members, which therefore only need to be enumerated here.39 Serapiastai and other associations worshipping the Egyptian deities on Delos At least seventeen inscriptions record the activities of therapeutai in connection with the sanctuaries of the Egyptian deities on Delos.40 Melanephoroi ‘those dressed in black’, are attested as a group at least nine times,41 single members at least four-

36 37 38

39 40 41

Κρατίνου,/ Ξοῦθος Νικάνορος,/ Εὐμήδης Πρωτάρχου,/ Εὔανδρος Σφοδρίου. There were at least 28 names. See RICIS II p. 430 for the identification. Ll. 8 and 14. Bricault considers them to be Egyptian: (Bricault 2013, p. 296). There is also a father and son pairing, Philostratos son of Demokrites and Demokrites son of Philostraos (ll. 17 and 18). Dionysios Loulanabou and Zenon Loulanabelou (ll. 16, 19): Both Nabu and Bel were widely worshipped in Anatolia, Syria and Egypt, so that Foucart’s belief (1873, 234 no. 58) that these men were of Babylonian origin cannot necessarily be corroborated. Loula- itself looks like a corruption of the (Sumerian then) Babylonian word lugal- (master, lord). However the famous ‘Borsippa cylinder’ confirms that Antiochus I Soter reconstructed the temple of Nabu and Nanaia in Babylonian Borsippa as part of his bid to win support for his rule in Babylonia, and requested Nabu’s protection for his son and Stratonike: see Sherwin-White, Susan M. 1987, Seleucid Babylonia. A Case-study for the installation and development of Greek rule, in: Amélie Kuhrt/Susan Sherwin-White (edd.), Hellenism and the East, London 1987, pp. 1–31; Sherwin-White, Susan M. 1991. Aspects of Seleucid Royal Ideology: The Cylinder of Antiochus I from Borsippa, in: JHS 111, pp. 71–86. Rhodes (serapiastai): 2nd c. BCE, RICIS 204/0105, IG XII 1 162. (E)isiastai: 1st c. BCE, RICIS 204/0107/IG XII 1 165; and 1st c. BCE, RICIS 204/0106/IG XII 1 157; Lindos, 10 BCE, RICIS 204/0340–42/ILindos 391–392 b. For the inscriptions see Chapter 3.1. All RICIS, all BCE: 202/0135 (first half 2nd c.), 202/0257 (124/3), 202/0260 (123/2), 202/0269 (119/18 or little later), 202/0281 (after 116/15), 202/0282 (115/4), 202/0322 (105/4), 202/0351 (94/93), 202/0352 (93/2).

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teen times.42 With one exception, all these texts can be dated to the period from the first half of the second century until the early nineties BCE. The evidence for the four other groups is much less extensive. Serapiastai are mentioned in four inscriptions, 43 the koinon ton enatiston in two,44 while the koinon ton dekadiston/dekadistrion and the eranistai in just one each.45 These last three groups seem to have been somehow linked with each other, and shall therefore be treated together. The koinon ton dekadiston and dekadistrion, 46 consisting of nine men and two women, was led by a synagogos named Ariston.47 His origin is not further specified but he is also found among the members of the koinon ton enatiston, a group consisting of twenty-four men.48 Apollodoros too was a member both of the dekadistai/dekadistriai and the eranistai, both of whom met in Serapeion B.49 This habit of being involved with or being part of two groups seems to have been fairly normal.50 What about the attested origins of ordinary members or adherents of these cults? Most of the members and officers are listed simply by their personal name.51 However, a handful of origins can be traced. Among the dekadistai and dekadistriai we find a member originating from Mylasa in Asia Minor52 and another from the 42

43 44 45 46

47 48

49 50 51 52

All RICIS, all BCE: 202/0183 (before 166), 202/0184, 202/0140–41 (both before 166), 202/0183–84 (both before 166), 202/0229? (149/8 ?), 202/0297–98 (both 112/1), 202/0301–02 (both 112/1), 202/0342–43 (both 95/4 ?), 202/0422 (between 166–157 BCE), 202/0423 (157/6), 202/0424 (156/5), 202/0428 (145/4). All RICIS, all BCE 202/0135 (first half 2nd c.), 202/0421 (shortly after 166), 202/0422 (166– 157), 202/0424 (156/5). RICIS 202/0140 (before 166 BCE) and RICIS 202/0141 (before 166 BCE). RICIS 202/0139 (before 166 BCE). As I have said, the dekadistai probably met every ten days, as their name suggests, apparently on the first day of each period. For further intrepretations see Chapter 1. 2 on terminology. Eranistai: RICIS 202/0134 (196 BCE). IG XI 4, 1227 = RICIS 202/0139: τὸ κοινὸν τῶν δεκαδιστῶν καὶ/ δεκαδιστριῶν ὧν συνήγαγεν/ Ἀρίστων Σαράπιδι, Ἴσιδι, Ἀνούβιδι,/ θεοῖς συννάοις./ 5 Ἰατροκλῆς, Ἀπολλόδ[ω]ρ̣ος, Δωρίων, Γλαυκίας,/ Νέων, Θεόφιλος, Ἡρακλε̣ί̣δη̣ς, Μένιππος Ἰατροκλ[έ]-/ ους, Ἡρακλείδης. Καλλώ, Εὐτ̣υχί[ς], Φίλα, Κλέ[α],/ Διάνοια, Σύνετον, Φιλοκρίτη. LGPN vol. I, s.v. Ariston no. 96. IG XI 4 1228 = RICIS 202/0140: Σαράπιδι, Ἴσιδι, Ἀνούβιδι,/ τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ἐνατιστῶν ὧν ἀρχιθιασίτης/ Διονύσιος Νουμηνίου Κασσανδρεύς, γραμματεὺς/ Ἀπολλώνιος μελανηφόρος, Μνάσων,/ 5 Ἀθηνίων, Κῶμος, Ἀρίστων, Ῥόδιππος,/ Ἡγίας, Ἀπολλώνιος, Διονύσιος, Φιλόστρατος,/ Δημήτριος, Στράτων, Σωσίστρατος,/ Ἀριστόβουλος, Ἀφροδίσιος, Διοπείθης,/ Φιδίας, Δράκων, Αἰσχρίων, Ἀπολλώνιος,/ 10 Ἀφροδίσιος, Ἀγαθοκλῆς,/ Βαλίτων, Ἀσκληπιάδης, Διόδωρος./ l. 11a in corona laurea:/ 12 στεφανοῖ τὸ κοι-/ νὸν̣ [τῶ]ν θιασιτῶν/ Διονύσιον τὸν ἀρχι-/ 15 θιασίτην ἀρετῆς ἕνε-/ κεν καὶ εὐσεβείας/ τῆς εἰς τοὺς θεοὺς/ καὶ φιλοτιμίας/ τῆς εἰς τοὺς/ 20 θιασίτας. In corona laurea: 21 τὸ κοινὸν/ τῶν θιασι-/ τῶν τὸν/ γραμματέα/ 25 Ἀπολλώνιον/ μελανηφό-/ρον. Apollodoros is mentioned in RICIS 202/0139 (196 BCE) and RICIS 202/0134 (before 166 BCE). See also Bricault’s comment at RICIS I, p. 210. This is especially true of the members of the koinon of enatistai in RICIS 202/0140. Here we find a different Apollonios and a certain Aischrion (both l. 9) who also appear as members of the eranistai of RICIS 202/0134 ll. 5, 9. Bricault therefore suggests classifying them as metics rather than citizens, Bricault 2013, p. 288. Menippos (IG XI 4 1227, l. 6) is the son of Iatrokles from Mylasa who made a dedication to the Egyptian deities: RICIS 202/0143 (before 166 BCE).

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island of Amorgos.53 Dionysios, the archithiasites of the koinon of the enatistai originally came from Kassandreia, Macedonia.54 The name Baliton in the same text might suggest a Phoenician or Punic origin.55 The other three groups (and perhaps a fourth) appear alongside one another in a single honorific inscription from Serapeion B of the first half of the second century BCE, on which the name of each group appears beneath a separate crown, denoting the idea στεφανοῖ.56 All three groups, the koinon of the therapeutai, the koinon of the melanephoroi and the thiasos of the serapiastai, jointly honour the same person, Kineas, who recurs on a number of other Delian inscriptions and is thought to have been a Delian.57 He also appears in several other votives in Serapeion B as an officiating priest. At this early period, we know of only one member of the serapiastai, the synagogos Menneas.58 Prior to the Athenian occupation, the therapeutai are almost as anonymous as the serapiastai.59 A small plaque from Serapeion A, however, offers a little more information. Dedicated to the goddess Nike at the end of the third century BCE, it was set up by a priest named Apollonios and “those of the therapeutai who have contributed”60 Bricault suggests that this priest is none other than Apollonios II, whose grandfather from Memphis was responsible for the introduction of the cult to Delos and who fought a court-case to defend his building of Serapeion A. Bricault ingeniously suggests that this votive to Nike was set up after Apollonios II won the case and finished building his Serapeion. The associations of the Egyptian deities on Delos and the Athenian occupation The only melanephoros known at Delos from the period before the Athenian occupation was originally from Chios.61 However, he also appears prominently in in-

53 54 55 56

57 58 59 60 61

IG XI 4 1227 = RICIS 292/0139 l. 5, cf. LGPN vol. I, s. v. Kallikrates no. 1. RICIS 202/0140, l. 3 and RICIS 202/0141, l. 3; cf. LGPN vol. I, s.v. Dionysios no. 158. RICIS 202/0140 l. 11, cf. LGPN vol. I, s.v. Baliton 1, for the name see Bricault’s comment in RICIS I p. 211. RICIS 202/0135 = IG XI 4 1226: [---Σαρά]πιδι, Ἴσιδι, Ἀνούβιδι Κινέας Ἀγοράλλου χαριστή[ρ]ιον. In corona: /2 τὸ κοινὸν/ τῶν θερα-/ πευτν[ῶ]ν/ Κινέ̣αν. In corona: /2 τὸ κοινὸν/ τῶν μελ̣[α]-/ νηφόρων/ Κινέαν. In corona:/2 ὁ θίασος/ ὁ τῶν Σαρα-/ πιαστῶν/ Κινέαν. LGPN vol. I, s.v. Kineas no. 6 and RICIS comment p. 209. LGPN vol. I, s.v. Menneas no. 6. RICIS: 202/0421 (soon after 166 BCE, l. 64), 22 (between 166 and 157 BCE, l. 57) and -24 (156/55 BCE, l. 88), together with therapeutai and twice also melanephoroi. RICIS 202/0162 (before 166 BCE); 202/0161 (shortly before 240/239 BCE). RICIS 202/0121. RICIS 202/0183 (before 166 BCE) RICIS 202/0184; cf. LGPN vol. I, s.v. Ktesippos no. 3 (son of no. 2).

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ventory inscriptions of a later date, as the donor of several items, mainly small figurines.62 Most of the other dedications that were set up by the therapeutai and melanephoroi or that mention them can be dated between 115/14–93/92 BCE, that is, a span of about twenty years during the period of Athenian occupation. A set of five inscriptions that were either dedicated by or to the melanephoroi and therapeutai dates from this period. The people named in the texts, most of them priests, are citizens of various Attic demes. The formulae employed are more or less the same, the texts being dedicated in honour of the Athenian and Roman people and in one case even to Mithridates of Pontus as well.63 Apart from this group of texts, the koinon ton therapeuton appears several times in the inventory lists of the sanctuaries of the Egyptian deities as the donor of gifts, usually with the name of the priest at the time of the dedication (e.g. ἐφ’ἱερέως Κτησίππου Ἀνακαιέως) and often several times over, each time with a different priestly name.64 The melanephoroi set up two dedicatory inscriptions of their own in Serapeion C, one honouring their benefactor and priest “Demetrios son of Hermesion of the deme of Marathon …..”65 Apart from the case of Ktesippos I have just mentioned, the origins of a few melanephoroi are known. A certain Theophilos of Antioch, proved himself very generous towards the Egyptian deities by having the walls of the pastophorion plastered, the walls and ceiling figure-painted, the doors painted in encaustic, and providing the wall-to-wall beams and the planking on top of them, probably for Serapeion C.66 Another melanephoros from Antioch, Aristion, donated 50 Attic drachmae in his own and in his family’s name.67 Paris, son of Nikarchos, probably belongs to this group, since he gives his city of origin as Seleukeia, presumably Pieria, i.e. the port of Antioch.68 From Alexandria comes an evidently wealthy man, probably named Demetrios son of Nikias, who showed his generosity towards the gods by offering altars, the paving (of the dromos), sphinxes and a 62

63 64 65 66

67 68

RICIS: 202/0423 (ll. 18, 25), -0424 (face B. Col. I, ll. 17, 18, 26), 0428 (face A. 1, l. 8/9),-0433 (face A. 1, ll. 18, 24). As well as Ktesippos, another melanephoros named Apollonios, of unknown origin, appears in the inventory lists: 202/0421 (165–157/6 BCE, coll. II, 1, l. 70), -0422 (166–157/6 BCE, fragm. a. 1, l. 60). RICIS: 202/0269, -/0281, -/0282, -/0322, -/0351, -/0352 (93/92 BCE to Athenians, Romans and Mithridates). RICIS 202/0421–24 and 0428. The citation is from 202/0423 side A l. 64 (157 BCE). RICIS 202/0257. ID 2085 = RICIS 202/0297 (112/1 BCE): Θεόφιλος Θεοφίλου/ Ἀντιοχεύς, μελανηφόρος/ τὴν κονίασιν/ τοῦ παστοφορίου/ 5 καὶ τὴν γραφὴν τῶν τε/ τοίχων καὶ τῆς ὀροφῆς/ καὶ τὴν ἔγκαυσιν τῶν θυρῶν/ καὶ τοὺς προμόχθους/ τοὺς ἐν τοῖς τοίχοις/ 10 καὶ τὰς ἐπ’ αὐτοῖς σανίδας/ ἀνέθηκεν Σαράπιδι, Ἴσιδι,/ Ἀνούβιδι v Ἁρποχράτει,/ ἐπὶ ἱερέως Σελεύκου/ τοῦ Ἀνδρονίκ̣ο̣υ Ῥαμνουσίου. This is a doublet of ID 2086 = RICIS 202/0298 of the same year. ID 2167 = RICIS 202/0301 (112/1 BCE): Ἀριστίων Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἀντιοχεὺς/ μελ{λ} ανη(φόρος) ὑπὲρ ἡαυτοῦ καὶ τῆς γυναι-/ κὸς καὶ τῶν τέκνων, ἀττικοῦ νʹ. ID 2168, 1= RICIS 202/0301 (12/1 BCE): [Π]άρις Νικάνδρου Σελευκεὺς/ μελανηφόρος ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ κ[αὶ]/ [γυν]αικὸς καὶ τέκνων, δραχμὰς [— —]. The same man also offered a small base dedicated during the priesthood of Staseas son of Philokles of the deme Kolonos, where he does not mention that he was a melanephoros: RICIS 202/0272.

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clock.69 His inscriptions are dated with reference to the priesthood of Artemidoros son of Apollodoros of the deme Lamptrai, and his daughter Theophile, who held the office of kanephoros, and a certain Euodos, the caretaker (zakoros). None of the identifiably non-Greeks is known to have held an administrative or cultic position. The priests and kanephoroi mentioned are all citizens of Athens. Though none of them is termed a melanephoros, they seem to have monopolised the cultic offices of the group. Moreover, apart from the serapiastai, none of these groups of worshippers seems to dedicate after 90 BCE. And whereas earlier we find non-Greeks and Delians as leaders and ordinary members,70 it seems that not only does the variety of groups shrink noticeably in the later period, but also the diversity of origin among the leading figures. It is conceivable, perhaps even likely, that members of the groups that disappear after 166 joined the therapeutai or melanephoroi under Athenian pressure. After 166 BCE, non-Greeks and metics appear only in the group of the melanephoroi, and among them there is just one individual from Egypt (Alexandria, itself an important port).71 After Apollonios I and his immediate succession, there are no Egyptian priests. Though they were apparently directed by Athenians, the melanephoroi seem to have attracted metics and perhaps foreigners. Virtually nothing can be said about the membership of the therapeutai.72 Yet they clearly appear side by side with the other organised groups explicitly as a koinon ton therapeuton.73 Although there is no direct evidence for a connection between Apollonios I the priest from Memphis and a specific association, we do know that he donated benches for the cult-community to dine together at the kline of Serapis.74 Apart from him and a handful of others, there is no evidence at Delos for Egyptian membership of the serapiastai or other associations. However, one should bear in mind the limitations of the epigraphic evidence, both on Delos and in the rest of the eastern Mediterranean. The issue of the relationship of these groups to the local epigraphic culture is crucial. Not all were in a po69

70 71 72 73 74

ID 2087 = RICIS 202/0342: [ὁ δεῖνα Νικίου]/ [— — — ρεὺς μελα]-/ [ν]ηφόρο[ς ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ]/ καὶ τῆς [γυναικὸς Πατρο]-/ 5 φίλας κ[αὶ τῶν τέκνων]/ Νικίου κ[αὶ Ἀπολλωνίας]/ καὶ τοῦ οἰκε[ίου] Κλέωνος/ τοῦ Κλέων[ο]ς, τοὺς βω-/ μοὺς καὶ τὸ λιθόστρωτο[ν]/ 10 καὶ τὰς σφίγγας καὶ τ[ὸ]/ ὡρολόγιον Σαράπιδι, [Ἴσι]-/ δι, Ἀνούβιδι,/ Ἁρποχράτ̣[ει], / Ὑδρείωι ἀνέθηκ[εν]/ ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων,/ 15 ἐπὶ ἱερέως Ἀρτ[εμιδώ]-/ ρου τοῦ Ἀπολ̣λ̣ο̣δώρ[ου]/ [Λ]αμπτρέ[ως, κα]νηφορού̣-/ σης Θεοφίλ[ης] τῆς Ἀρ-/ τεμιδώρου Λαμπτρέως/ 20 θυγατρός, ζακορεύοντος/ Εὐόδου. I have printed the PHI version here, but for the reading text, one must consult RICIS. The text can be partly supplemented by its doublet ID 2088 = RICIS 202/0343.The name Demetrios is a conjecture based on RICIS 202/0332 and 202/0212 II l.16; see Bricault’s commentary RICIS I p. 288. E. g. Kineas, the Delian priest honoured by the therapeutai, serapiastai and melanephoroi in RICIS 202/0135 and Dionysios of Kassandreia, the president of the enatistai (RICIS 202/0140, l. 3). RICIS 202/0302, Demetrios of Alexandria. The only individual named is Ploution (RICIS 202/0303), though he does not mention his origins. RICIS 202/0135. RICIS 202/0101 = IG XI 4 1299, ll. 60–65: τετέλεστο δὲ πάντα μελάθρωι/ 65 ἕδρανά τε κλισμοί τε θεοκλήτους ἐπὶ δαῖτας.

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sition, or found it necessary, to erect inscriptions. Generally speaking, inscriptions belong to what I have called the ‘second phase’ of such associations, not to the first. Two further general tendencies can be made out: in some places, most prominently Athens, where religious associations named for the Egyptian deities are known, the cult itself had been introduced between 100–200 years earlier. On the other hand, Delos shows that the two phenomena might occur closer together.75 The major variable seems to have been the degree of control exercised by the civic authorities. At Athens/Attica, the Egyptian deities had often been officially recognised and accepted by the city, and only later became the eponymous gods of religious associations. On Delos however there seems to have been little intervention by the island authorities during the period of independence, a situation that changed dramatically with the re-imposition of Athenian control in 166 BCE.76 In summary, the members of groups of serapiastai and of the other Egyptian deities seem to have been organised just like regular associations. In other words, religious associations worshipping Egyptian deities were in institutional terms more or less indistinguishable from religious associations devoted to more traditional deities. This is the conclusion suggested by the epigraphic evidence and no doubt intended by the associations. Furthermore it looks as though it was possible for members without other qualifications, such as priestly ones, to buy themselves into the top of the group, as in the case of Hypsikles on Thasos. As we might expect, benefactors played an important role in these groups, for example at Kea and Rhamnous. With the possible exception of the two Hellenised Egyptians among the synanoubiastai at Smyrna, none of the inscriptions provides clear onomastic proof that they enrolled Egyptian members. The two sons of men with theophoric names for Nabu and Bel are likewise exceptional. Moreover, for what it is worth, the only inscription to add demotic affiliations, namely the inscription from Rhamnous, shows that all those members at any rate were citizens. On the other hand, this does of course not prove that there were no foreign members of these associations, since there are very few lists of names, and, as I have just pointed out, all the Rhodian Isiastai provide no details apart from their bare name. The case of Epameinon, the benefactor on Kea who can be linked to the Ptolemaic army might indicate another pattern of the spread of serapiastai, namely through the dispersion of the Ptolemaic army in garrisons over the eastern Mediterranean. This possibility will be considered later in this chapter. Another consideration is that not all groups were able or willing to set up inscriptions in stone. This seems to be especially the case concerning the first generation of worshippers, who are hardly ever visible in the epigraphic evidence. As I have pointed out, at least in the second phase the membership mainly consisted of Greeks and often enough of citizens. In some cases at least, if the inscription of the 75 76

Even though one could argue that the cult of the Egyptian deities is attested about three generations earlier, this would assume that one has decided to trust the claim made by Apollonios that his grandfather initially introduced the cult. This is clear from the way the sanctuaries to various (admittedly non-Egyptian) deities straggle from the Terrace of Foreigners all the way up Mt Kynthos.

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synanoubiastai at Smyrna is anything to go by, there seems to have been no great hindrance to membership by non-Greeks. However, the practice of naming one’s origin in inscriptions seems to have at least existed as we have seen in the case of the group from Smyrna. The people who had sufficiently internalised the norms of local epigraphic culture to erect inscriptions, I would suggest, are high-achieving, relatively established and wealthy individuals using their membership of an association to claim a certain status in the local social hierarchy. These ‘visible’ persons were surely greatly outnumbered by the followers of ephemeral cults that have left no epigraphic trace, let alone evidence of the names of individual members. 4.1.2 Origins and originality of the Egyptian cults What was specific and original about the religious associations organised to serve the worship of the Egyptian deities in the eastern Mediterranean? How far did they maintain their original character once they arrived in different parts of the Aegean world? We know that from their first appearance in the Greek world the cult of the Egyptian deities was characterisd by a number of special features. Among these were the daily opening and closing of the temple at fixed times, rituals focussed on Nile-water (actual or suppositious),77 and priestly familiarity with texts written in hieroglyphs which were of course inaccessible to the ordinary Greek worshipper. Did such rituals require the presence of Egyptian personnel to perform particular rituals? Were such persons required for the formation of religious associations? Egyptian practices and Graeco-Egyptian innovations We know of two types of more or less regular meetings that were taken over directly from Egyptian precedents. The first was the practice of coming together at specific intervals, such as nine days, from which such groups took their name. The second were the klinai of Serapis, more or less lavish banquets held in honour of the god. Although the latter are only rarely recorded in the epigraphic evidence in connection with religious associations,78 we may assume that specific rituals, as well as certain dates linked with the deities, played an important role in the groups’ calendar.79 The case of the serapiastai at Athens illustrates a certain ambiguity of these groups.80 The Athenian serapiastai adapted features of regulations from other 77 78 79 80

See most recently Kleibl, Kathrin 2009. Iseion. Raumgestaltung und Kultpraxis in den Heiligtümern gräco-ägyptischer Götter im Mittelmeerraum, Darmstadt, pp. 131–135. For Delos RICIS 202/9191, end of 3rd c. BCE and probably RICIS 202/0134, 196 BCE. In Roman times from Thessalonica RICIS 113/0575, 3rd c. CE. Certain festivals, such as the Ploiaphesia, the opening festival of the shipping season in March were only introduced as a by-product of the ‘new’ deities. RICIS 101/0201 (215/214 BCE), see pp. 75–77 above.

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well-established local cults. At the same time one can perhaps expect a certain loyalty to practices we know of from other cults of the Egyptian deities, such as particular dining habits, the inclusion of Egyptian hieroglyphs in readings, and Egyptian artefacts as part of the rituals of the individual group, hence the choice of deity. It is clearly necessary to differentiate between what was adopted from the local environment, and what was consciously preserved as Egyptian or ‘Egyptian’. The cult of Serapis was itself a complex fusion of Egyptian and Greek perceptions and practices, in Memphis itself, at Alexandria and elsewhere in Egypt. When it was appropriated into the Greek world it was naturally accommodated still further to local Greek norms. Our late-third century Athenian text thus reads like most other Athenian documents of the day: not only are the titles of the administrative staff completely atticised but the honours granted to the benefactors, namely crowning with a crown of leaves and ribbons, are regular at Athens.81 The only odd feature, as I have noted earlier, is the fact that the group is presided over by a woman.82 Yet, so far as we know, this is not an Egyptian characteristic. In other words, the text as we have it betrays no specifically Egyptian features. Since we do not know where the group met, whether at the temple of the Egyptian deities or in their own premises, we cannot say whether they performed any rituals that were, or were believed to be, Egyptian in origin. But neither can we quite rule out the possibility. One also has to consider further aspects of epigraphic culture: inscriptions served a specific communicative purpose; those that were publicly displayed were erected primarily for an external audience. Comparison with similar documents, specifically at Athens, indicates that only administrative items, including regulations, appear on such ‘exoteric’ inscriptions. It is the normalised, administrative aspect of a religious group that is presented in public, not issues concerning the actual ritual or practices, even if these existed in written form. Inscribed texts relating to specific cult practices, and even inscriptions recording the regulations of religious associations, are very scarce in general. In the case of the Egyptian deities in Greece such texts simply do not exist. While the evidence for serapiastai, whether on Thasos, at Rhamnous in northern Attica, or on Rhodes, tends to confirm the idea that such inscriptions present a normalised image of the group to the outside world, other evidence, notably from Delos, reveals more specifically Egyptian features. These are the enatistai and dekatistai, who met on specific days in order to honour the deities with a meal.83 Here we encounter an Egyptian tradition carried over into the new environment, but in an apparently private context. Actual Egyptians are hard to find among the members, benefactors, and even founders of religious associations devoted to the Egyptian deities. The epigraphic evidence contains very little information that links groups on Greek soil to Egyptian traditions. However, this does not necessarily mean that no Egyptians were involved. One should not forget that most Egyptians who came to Greece in Hellen81 82 83

The titles of the officials in charge of the group all correspond to those usual at Athens: tamias (treasurer), grammateus (secretary), epimeletes and hieropoioi. There is a much later parallel, namely an archeranistria of a group of eranistai at Acharnai dated 50 BCE (AJA 64, 1960, p. 269). For a case at Athens, see IG II² 2701.

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istic times, and specifically in the second and first centuries BCE, came from cities such as Alexandria, which had been Hellenised for more than one hundred years. Their names might have been Greek for several generations, and there is usually no means of penetrating the onomastic veil. 84 And in that case, the very notion ‘Egyptian’ becomes extremely fuzzy. Nevertheless, some magistrates and naming practices that we find among the groups honouring Egyptian deities may be linked to or allude to Egyptian roots or habits. Among these are the hypostoloi, ‘those who dress the cult-image’. Whether the word hypostoloi derives, as sometimes suggested, from the words stolistes known in Greece and Egypt and archistolistes, which describes the clerical office of a person responsible for the daily toilet of the cult statue and which is almost exclusively known from Egypt, is discussed by Veligianni among others.85 We know of koina of these specialists in Eretria86 and Demetrias (Thessaly),87 and as an unspecified group in Amphipolis in Thrace (οἱ ὑπόστολοι).88 Some scholars have suggested that the hypostoloi were specialists involved in the Egyptian practice of the daily cleansing and robing of the cult statue.89 Another direction was taken by 84

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Perhaps one might also expect the practice of double-naming, by which an Egyptian would adopt a Greek name but also in some instances keep his Egyptian name. This is known from Roman Egypt, where people used both of their names, for example on many decrees written on papyri. Veligianni, Chrissoula 1986. Hypostoloi und Trierarchos auf einer neuen Inschrift aus Amphipolis, in ZPE 62, pp. 241–246. On the hypostoloi and their possible function in the cult see further: Vidman, Ladislav 1970. Isis und Serapis bei den Griechen und Römern. Epigraphische Studien zur Verbreitung und zu den Trägern des ägyptischen Kultes, Berlin pp. 62 and 73; and Dunand, Françoise 1973. Le culte d’Isis dans le bassin oriental de la méditerranée (EPRO 76, 3. vols.) Leiden, II, p. 25; also Kleibl 2004, p. 80. RICIS 104/0103 (early 2nd c. BCE). RICIS 112/0703 (c. 117 BCE). οἱ ὑπόστολοι εἶπαν· ἐπειδὴ Κρ[ίτων Κρί]-/τωνος κατασταθεὶς/ ὑπὸ τῆς π̣[όλεως]/5 ἱερεὺς τοῦ Σαράπιδος ἔν τε τοῖ[ς περὶ]/ τοὺς θεοὺς ἀνέστραπται ἀξίως μὲ[ν τῆς ἑαυ]-/ τοῦ καλοκἀγαθίας, ἀξίως δὲ καὶ τῆς πό[λεως, σπου]-/ δῆς καὶ φιλοτιμίας οὐδὲν ἐνλείπων ε[ἴς τε τοὺς]/ θεραπευτὰς μεγαλομερῶς καὶ ἐκτεν[ῶς δαπανῶν]/ 10 διατετέλεκεν βουλόμενός {ς} τε τὴν ἑα[υτοῦ προαί]-/ [ρε]σιν {λ} ἀΐμνηστον καὶ τοῖς μετὰ ταῦτα κατα[στῆσαι ἐ]-/ πέδωκεν εἴς τε τὴν τῶν θεῶν τιμὴν κ̣[αὶ τὸ κοι]-/ νὸν τῶν ὑποστόλων ἐκ τοῦ ἰδίου βίου ἀργ̣[υρίου δρα]-/ χ̣μὰς χιίας χάριν τοῦ γινομένης κατ’ ἐνιαυ[τὸν τῆς τῶ]-/ 15 ν ὑποστόλων συνόδου καὶ τῶν τόκων ἀν̣[αλισκομένω]-/ ν τάς τε τῶν θεῶν τιμὰς ἐπὶ πλεῖον αὐ[ξάνειν καὶ]/ τοὺς ὑποστόλους ἀεὶ τῆς καθηκούση[ς μετέχ]-/ ειν φιλανθρωπίας, διὸ καὶ δεδόχθαι τοῖς [ὑποστό]-/ οις στεφανῶσαι Κρίτωνα Κρίτωνος [χρυσῷ στε]-/ 20 φάνωι καὶ εἰκόνι γραπτῆι, μετέχειν τ[ε καὶ διὰ]/ βίου πάντων τοῖς ὑποστόλοις διδομέν[ων φιλαν]-/ θρώπων, γίνεσθαι δὲ διὰ παντὸς τὴν [στεφάνωσιν] αὐτοῦ ἐν πάσαις ταῖς κατὰ τὸ ἱερὸν γι[νομέναις]/ ὑπὸ τῶν ὑποστόλων συνόδοις, ἀνα[τεθῆναι] /25 δὲ τὸ ψήφισμα τοῦτο καὶ τὸν στέφα[νον ἐν τῷ]/ ἐπιφανεστάτῳ τοῦ Σεραπιείου τό[πῳ, οὗ]/ καὶ τὴν εἰκόνα τεθῆναι, ἐφ’ ἃ καὶ ἐπ[ιγραφῆναι]·/ “οἱ ὑπόστολοι Κρίτωνα Κρίτωνος τὸν ἱε[ρέα τοῦ]/ [Σ]αράπιδος ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεν καὶ εὐν̣[οίας]/ 30 [τῆς εἰς] α̣ὑτοὺς καὶ τῆς εἰς τὸ θεῖον εὐ[σεβείας]. RICIS 113/0908 (67–6 BCE). See e. g. Dunand 1973 (2), p. 47 and Hölbl, Günther 1994. Geschichte des Ptolemäerreiches, Darmstadt, pp. 92–92. Bagnall, Roger 1976. The Administration of Ptolemaic Possessions outside Egypt, Leiden 1978, pp. 49–51. The results of newer investigations into the term are pre-

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Veligianni, who derived the word from the verb ὑποστέλλεσθαι, which can mean ‘not speaking’ or ‘keeping secret’.90 On the basis of this (very daring) etymology, she urged that the word hypostoloi denoted an organised group of worshippers of the Egyptian deities with deeper knowledge of the sacred secrets.91 A third interpretation has been offered recently by Michel Malaise, who argues that the word describes the actual clothes of the cult staff. Malaise here revives a suggestion originally made by Philippe Bruneau, that the word hypostolos refers to “les porteurs d’un vêtement qui ne couvre pas la partie supérieure du tronc”.92 The hypostoloi, in order to emphasize their dignity, chose to wear these items of dress, which Malaise claims can be identified in images, and connects to an item of Egyptian clothing, allegedly worn by priests in Egypt.93 Whichever solution one prefers, it is clear that all interpretations are based on the assumption that the word in the plural denotes a group exclusively attached to the cult of the Egyptian deities. It is equally clear that none of the three inscriptions that mention hypostoloi reveals anything about the nature of their functions, let alone why they received this name. Indeed one might argue on the basis of the honorary decree from Demetrias (RICIS 112/0703) in a very different direction. This is an honorific decree proposed by the hypostoloi as a group for Kriton, son of Kriton, the public priest of Serapis at Demetrias, and specifically mentions Kriton’s engagement on behalf of the therapeutai (ll. 8 f.). In particular he had given the god 1000 silver drachmae, the annual interest on which was to be used in perpetuity to embellish the ceremonies held at the annual meeting of the hypostoloi (ll. 10–18), which undoubtedly involved a fairly lavish banquet. The inscribed stone is to be set up in the Serapeion where it could best be seen, along with Kriton’s portrait (ll. 25–27), and was therefore an explicitly public honour.94 One might infer that being a member of such a group, whatever the supposed meaning of the term iself, was an attractive achievement. Such membership might be compared to a much later case, namely Lucius’ membership of the collegium of pastophoroi in Rome at the end of the protagonist’s long progress, as described in Apuleius’ fiction.95

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sented by Malaise, Michel 2007. Les hypostoles. Un titre isiaque, sa signification et sa traduction iconographique, in: CE 82, pp. 302–322, who offers an etymological interpretation (p. 305) as well as an iconographical approach pp. 309–316. Veligianni 1986, p. 245. Veligianni 1986, p. 245. Malaise 2007, p. 307. Malaise 2007, pp. 309–321. A later hand has added two lines at the beginning of the inscription (ll. 1–2), dating the text to a specific strategia and prostateia/prostasia. Apul Met. XI, 30. On the role of the pastophoroi in the cult of Isis see Dunand 1973 (vol. 2), pp. 157–158; Merkelbach, Reinhold 2001². Isis Regina – Zeus Sarapis. Die griechischägyptische Religion nach den Quellen dargestellt, München, p. 124; Kleibl 2009, p. 159.

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Sanctuaries founded by Egyptians? At a somewhat earlier date, namely the late fourth/early third century, there is some limited evidence for foundations by first-generation Egyptian immigrants.96 As we have already seen, however, the thinness of this evidence, which is almost entirely epigraphic, may not be very telling, in that it usually took a period of time before such groups were stable enough to adopt local epigraphic cultures, and wealthy enough to begin to want to establish permanent shrines. For all we know, the case of Apollonios I, the priest from Memphis who introduced the cult of Serapis to Delos, probably in the the second quarter of the third century BCE, and fitted up a shrine in his own house, may be paradigmatic for the early period. But we would know nothing about him if his grandson, Apollonios II, had not had to fight in court towards the end of that century for his right to build a proper Serapeion (A), which in turn prompted him to commission a celebratory text from Maiistas.97 Such cases may well have been fairly common. It has for example been suggested that the Serapeion in Thessalonica, which was in use for as long as 500 years,98 may have been founded by an individual from Egypt, most probably an Egyptian priest, following the example from Delos.99 The earliest foundation by ‘Egyptians’ for which we have epigraphic evidence seems to be the sanctuary of Isis founded already in the third quarter of the fourth century BCE in Piraeus, though we know nothing more about it.100 The Iseion in Eretria, which is to be dated a little later, is a parallel case.101 No evidence for the activity of serapiastai was found there, but there is evidence in the third century BCE for another group linked to the institutionalised worship of the Egyptian deities, namely a koinon of melanephoroi, ‘those dressed in black’, and hypostoloi. The text simply records an honour paid to Phanias, the priest for life, but the very existence of such an office may well confirm the lintel text.102 On the other hand, as 96

For a general analysis of foundations of Serapeia including non-Greek examples see Bricault 2003, pp. 80–84. 97 On RICIS 202/0101 see p. 67. 98 Steimle, Christopher 2006. Das Heiligtum der ägyptischen Götter in Thessaloniki und die Vereine in seinem Umfeld, in: Religions orientales – culti misterici, Corinne Bonnet/Jörg Rüpke/ Paolo Scarpi (edd.), pp. 27–38 esp. 27. 99 See Bricault 2013, p. 83 and RICIS 113/0534 as well as Voutiras, Emmanuel 2005. Sanctuaire privé – culte public? Le cas du Sarapieion de Thessalonique, in: Véronique Dasen/Marcel Piérart (edd.) Ιδία και δημοσία/Les cadres ʻprivésʼ et ʻpublicsʼ de la religion grecque antique (Kernos suppl., 15) Liège, pp. 273–288 esp. 279. 100 IG II² 337 = RICIS 101/0101. This much–cited decree, dated 333/2 BCE, is in favour of the Kittiaeans in Piraeus, who wanted to found a sanctuary to honour their own gods. They were granted permission to do so, “δεδόχθαι τῶι δήμ-/ ωι δοῦναι τοῖς ἐμπόροις/ 40 τῶν Κιτιέων ἔνκτησι[ν] χ[ω]-/ ρίου ἐν ὧι ἱδρύσονται τὸ/ ἱερὸν τῆς Ἀφροδίτης καθ-/ άπερ καὶ οἱ Αἰγύπτιοι τὸ/ τῆς Ἴσιδος ἱερὸν ἵδρυντ-/ αι.” (ll. 42–43); cf. Bricault 2003, pp. 170–171. This shrine cannot be linked to the group of serapiastai discussed above (pp. 75–77). 101 The text, inscribed on what seems to have been the lintel of the temple-door, reads Αἰγύπτιοι Ἴσιδι: RICIS 104/0101. On the date, see Bruneau, Philippe1975. Le sanctuaire et le culte des divinités égyptiennes à Érétrie (EPRO 45) Leiden, pp. 17, 105 and 115. 102 IG XII Suppl. 571 = RICIS 104/0103: τὸ κοινὸν τῶν/ μελανηφόρων/ καὶ ὑποστόλων/

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I have already pointed out, the term melanephoros only appears in Greece, and cannot be linked directly to any Egyptian institution.103 Nevertheless, melanephoroi were an institutional part of the worship of Egyptian deities in Greece, whether or not Egyptian in origin. They probably marked the point of transition of these cults between Egyptian origin and Hellenistic innovation. That would also fit very well with the evidence from Eretria. Initially it was an Egyptian foundation of a sanctuary that was soon visited by locals and other immigrants. Originally Egyptian, Greek and other worshippers organised themselves in religious associations that become visible to us only after they were properly established and were able to set up inscriptions. Priests and other ritual specialists from Egypt in religious associations Apart from Apollonios of Delos, no other case is known in which an Egyptian priest or ritual specialist was involved or essential for the establishment of an association. However, one must consider that the evidence is scarce and that it is rare for the qualifications of a specialist to be explicitly laid down. This lends particular interest to a decree of Priene of about 200 BCE that requires the public priest of Serapis and Isis to find an Egyptian specialist who knew how to perform the sacrifice properly.104 In the case of other specialists, such as dream-interpreters or aretalogists, who appear in inscriptions on Delos in the second and first centuries, however, none seem to be Egyptians.105 Sacrifice and perhaps the ceremony of ‘opening the mouth’ seems alone to have been felt to require Egyptian specialists, and often enough not even that. Such considerations, however, apply only to public sanctuaries, which by the end of the second century BCE were mostly administered by a local staff.106 Whether the same is true of religious associations, whose financial position was quite different, is uncertain. Non-Egyptians may have been attracted to groups that continued the Egyptian tradition of meeting on a specific day, sometimes in order to hold the kline of the gods. Other private associations may have adopted Egyptian or

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στεφανοῖ Φανίαν/ 5 Ἰάσονος τὸν ἱερη-/ τεύσαντα ἐγ γένους/ κατὰ τὴν μαντείαν/ τοῦ θεοῦ./ Ἰσίδωρος ζάκορος. For a comment see pp. 46–47. On the term zakoros, temple-warden, see Estienne, Sylvia 2005. Clergé des cultes égyptiens, ThesCRA V, pp. 100–102 esp. 100. It was replaced in the course of time by neokoros. Kleibl 2004, p. 81. RICIS 304/0802, ll. 20–23: “The priest is also to provide the Egyptian who knows how to perform the sacrifice in the correct manner; no non-specialist other than the priest (himself) is allowed to offer sacrifice to the goddess” (adapted from the translation by Dignas, Beate 2008. Greek priests of Sarapis? in: Beate Dignas/Kai Trampedach (edd.) Practitioners of the Divine. Greek Priests and Religious Officials from Homer to Heliodorus, London, pp. 73–88 esp. 83). She argues that the terminology in l. 29, κατεχομένοις ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ is to be connected with Egypt (p. 83). All RICIS, all BCE: 202/0340 (98/97); 202/0245 (129/28); 202/0283 (115/14); 202/0209 (95/94). Bricault 2013, pp. 272–278.

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‘Egyptian’ features, names, iconography or practices, out of mere curiosity or political allegiance. Others might have been interested in some specific characteristic of the Egyptian deities.107 An instance might be the therapeutai, who, it has been suggested, are to be associated especially with the healing functions of the Egyptian deities (outside Egypt, mainly Serapis of course), like the therapeutai of Asklepios. One may conclude that certain rituals originating in Egypt were continued or adopted by the founders of religious associations as they were established in Greece. Yet those rituals and the accompanying offices were transformed or sometimes even newly invented in Greece, even if they may have been inspired by Egyptian models. That way they could be made attractive both to diaspora Egyptians and to Greeks, the traditional Egyptian features appealing to the Egyptians, while others could be found interesting, even exotic, by Greeks. On a second level, religious associations used traditional Greek forms of public representation that could be advantageous for new immigrants and for Greeks alike. 4.2 ASSOCIATIONS WORSHIPPING OTHER ‘NEW’ GODS What about the cults of other ‘new’ deities? We have seen that, at any rate in the case of the Egyptian deities, the members of the relevant religious associations were almost all Greeks and not, as has often been assumed, non-Greeks. I now turn to consider the membership of religious associations focussed on other ‘new’ deities, such as Sabazios and Kybele,108 as well as the Syrian deities and the Jewish god. Here again the aim is twofold, to establish whether the membership of such associations consisted primarily of non-Greeks and metics, and, if so, whether they served their members as an avenue into local society. The orgeones of Bendis The earliest of these groups for which we have documentary evidence are the Thracian orgeones of Bendis in late Classical Athens. There appear to have been two such groups, one in the city of Athens itself, the other in Piraeus.109 The latter group had been officially granted the right to build a temple and to perform their festival. They followed their own rituals such as the horse-back torch race which Plato at the 107 On the preservation (or secondary introduction) of Egyptian features in the cult of Isis and the Egyptian deities outside Egypt in Roman times see the collection of conference-papers edited in 2005: Bricault, Laurent/Versluys, John-Miguel/Meyboom, Paul G. P. (edd.) 2005. Nile into Tiber. Egypt in the Roman World, Proceedings of the IIIrd International Conference of Isis Studies (RGRW 159) Leiden. 108 Even though the origin of Kybele is uncertain and it remains far from clear whether she was truly a foreign deity, especially since her appearance differs from place to place, she seems to have been seen as a foreign deity. At least one can state that all literary sources from the 6th c. BCE onwards describe her as Phrygian, Vassileva, Maya 2001. Further considerations on the cult of Kybele, in: Anatolian studies 51, pp. 51–63 esp. 51. 109 IG II² 1283, which dates to the year 240/39 BCE, mentions two such groups of orgeones, οἱ ἐν τῶι ἄστει and τοὺς ἐκ Πειραιῶς both of which are labelled as Thracians, ll. 4, 11, 25–26.

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very beginning of the Republic suggests was considered typically Thracian and at that time unfamiliar to the Athenians.110 In their inscriptions, they make it very clear that they observe their traditional cultic rites.111 At the same time they honoured their officials in the Athenian manner by granting them a crown and ivy leaves and they adopted the typically Athenian term orgeones for their group. We cannot tell whether they chose the name themselves or whether they were labelled as such by the Athenians. Furthermore, they explicitly point out that they follow the rules and the laws of the polis.112 In their inscriptions, the Thracian orgeones used the terminology of the polis in their inscriptions and for example to name their officials.113 We may conclude that the establishment of the groups of Bendis was a necessary condition for the resident Thracians to be allowed to perform their own non-Athenian ritual. The fact that Athenian citizens subsequently founded their own group indicates two things. Firstly, that this was a conscious decision to worship a foreign deity; and secondly, that they were eager to do so in form of a religious association. Yet, despite the relatively large number of surviving inscriptions that concern the associations in honour of Bendis, none mention names by means of which we might have been able to identify the ethnic origins of members. The sabaziastai of Piraeus A group of sabaziastai, worshippers of the western Anatolian god Sabazios, was active in Piraeus around 102/101 BCE.114 The group apparently met in a sanctuary that may have been already used at an earlier date by a similar group, though this is quite uncertain.115 However, the inscription of 102/101 BCE consists largely of a list of members and reveals some information concerning their origin. We learn that a certain Zenon of Antioch was the tamias, the priest of the group, whereas the offices of epimeletes and secretary were held by Dorotheos of the deme of Oe.116 All 110 See Pl. R. 327a-b, referring explicitly to the group in Piraeus. The Republic is generally dated around 380/370 BCE; its dramatic date is impossible to establish. 111 IG II² 1283, ll. 24–25: γίνωνται τοῖς θεοῖς καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ὅσα πρ[οσήκει]/ κατά τε τὰ πάτρια τῶν Θραικῶν. 112 IG II² 1283, ll. 9–11: ὅπως ἂν οὖν φα-/[ίν]ωνται καὶ οἱ ὀργεῶνες τῶι τε τῆς πόλεως νόμωι πειθαρ-/ χοῦντες, i.e. according to the law (or the custom) of the (Athenian) polis. 113 IG II² 1283. 114 IG II² 1335 ll. 2–12: ἀγαθεῖ τύχει· ἐπὶ Θεοκλέους ἄρχον-/ τος· Μουνιχιῶνος ἀγορᾶι κυρίαι·/ ἔδοξεν τοῖς Σαβαζιασταῖς, ἀνα-/ 5 γράψαι τὰ ὀνόματα τῶν ἐρανι-/ στῶν ἐν στήληι λιθίνηι καὶ στῆσαι/ ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι./ ἱερεὺς/ Ζήνων Ἀντιοχεύς·/ 10 ταμίας καὶ/ γραμματεὺς/ καὶ ἐπιμελητὴς/ Δωρόθεος Ὄαθεν. 115 A second text (IG II², 2932, dated 342/1 BCE), which was inscribed on a statue base and mentions hieropoioi, was found at the same spot. Hieropoioi, however, do not appear in IG II² 1335, any more than sabaziastai or Sabazios appear in IG II² 2923. Besides, a time-span of more than 200 years separates the two inscriptions, which are dated by the archons which are named in each document. It is possible that our group simply took over an abandoned sanctuary and reused it as a private meeting place. A closer connection between the two inscriptions was suggested by Mikalson 1998, pp. 278–79 and Lane, Eugene N. 1985. Corpus Cultus Iovis Sabazii II (EPRO 100) Leiden, pp. 24–26 nos. 51 and 52. 116 LGPN vol. II, s.v. Dorotheos no. 95, l. 9–10 and ll. 11–13.

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in all the names of 53 men are listed, thirty-seven of which can be identified as names of Athenians. Apart from these, there are two men from Antioch (l. 9, tamias and l. 32), two from Laodicea (presumably the port of Apamea in Syria, ll. 30 and 31), a man from Apamea (l. 55) and three from Miletus (ll. 16, 23, 61). Other individuals were originally from other places in Greece or Asia Minor. Even though the association was led by a non-Greek priest, the majority of the members were Athenians. No rules or patterns can be identified which could be applied to identify the origin of the members or that can be specifically connected with the deity. It remains unclear why the group chose Sabazios as their eponymous deity. It is likely, however, that the analogous figure of Dionysus played a role in their thinking, since Dionysus was not only a popular focus for religious associations but also played an important role in the public festivals of Athens. The leading office within the group of sabaziastai was occupied by a non-Greek without any direct link to the deity or any particular religious qualifications, as far as we can tell. Only the second position in the hierarchy of offices was held by a citizen.117 According to Mikalson, groups such as this, whose membership included nonGreeks, metics and citizens appear in Athens only around the date of this inscription, namely at the turn of the second to the first century BCE.118 My next case, however, shows that this pattern in fact appears considerably earlier. Associations named for the Mother of the Gods There is surprisingly little evidence from the eastern Mediterranean of religious groups named for the Mother of the Gods. The most striking evidence for these associations comes from Piraeus. As I have mentioned, they appear epigraphically for the first time at the end of the third century BCE. We know of a group of thiasotai presided over by metics in 281/80 BCE.119 An inscription found at the same spot and dated ten years later mentions both thiasotai and a koinon ton orgeonon,120 which now apparently consisted mainly of citizens. It is impossible to estimate the status of most of the members, since both inscriptions only name certain officers and their wives. These two groups seem to have amalgamated at some point at the end of the third century under the title orgeones. This new nomenclature can be traced for about a century.121 The official in charge in each case was a citizen, but in 178/7 one of the epimeletai was a metic.122 117 One probably has to bear in mind that the group also possessed a fund, an eranos, to which the members contributed (ll. 5–6) and which paid for the most important shared activity, the common meals. 118 Mikalson 1998, p. 279. 119 IG II² 1273, 281/280 or 265/264 BCE, the priest Kephalion of Herakleia (Pontika?) ll. 28–29 and Soterichos of Troezen (Peloponnese) l. 10. 120 IG II² 1316, 272/71 BCE. 121 IG II² 1314, 213/2 BCE and IG II² 1315, 211/10 BCE, IG II² 1328 A-B, Piraeus, A= 183–2/B= 175/4 BCE. 122 IG II² 1327. Ismard argues that Ergasion, l. 33, was a metic rather than a slave, as Mikalson 1998 p. 143 and Parker 2006 p. 192 thought. His main argument is that the people of this name listed in LGPN are either citizens or metics. He also argues that a slave was hardly likely to

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The situation at Triglia in the chora of Byzantium is more complex. Three inscriptions of the mid- to late-first century BCE refer to a thiasos of Zeus, Apollo and Kybele.123 The association apparently consisted of two groups: the thiasitai who primarily worshipped Zeus and whose priests are exclusively male, and the thiasitai and thiasitides, men and women worshipping Apollo and Kybele. Priestesses of the goddess were accordingly female. Membership of the group that worshipped Apollo was open to both sexes. One monument shows Kybele and Apollo attending a sacrificial scene, beneath which a group of worshippers is depicted reclining at a meal.124 Except for a priestess and a priest, both of them with Greek names, no other names are listed. In the case of Piraeus, it looks as though an earlier non-citizen thiasos has been absorbed by an association of orgeones with citizen status, who naturally also occupied the offices. Another way of putting it would be to say the thiasos was sufficiently attractive to induce citizens to join the association and to take over important offices. These offices were often taken by people of some means who could be relied on to secure the associations’ survival. With regard to the integration of nonGreeks and metics, one may say that both groups profit from the situation: the strangers could establish regular social relations with citizens, the citizens were able to worship a ‘new’ and interesting deity and acquire religious positions of responsibility which might have been unavailable to them in their old orgeones-groups. However, apart from the well-documented case in Piraeus, Kybele seems not to have been a very attractive choice in this context. It was not until the imperial period, and then mainly in the western parts of the Empire, that there occurred an enormous increase in groups dedicated to Magna Mater, a deity who was, if not identical, at least influenced by Kybele. In the Roman world, the most important of such groups were the dendrophoroi and cannephoroi, followed by the hastiferi.125 Associations worshipping the Syrian deities An inscription from the Dodecanese island of Astypalaia, dating from the end of the third century and the beginning of the second century BCE, seems to be the first evidence in Greece of a koinon of thiasotai worshipping a Syrian deity, in this case Atargatis.126 Two priests are mentioned with patronyms, of whom one seems to have been a Syrian or in some way connected to Syria (l. 2). The group appears to

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attain the position of epimeletes, whereas a metic might well have been in a position to afford such an office (Ismard 2010, p. 349, n. 94). IApameia nos. 33–35, pp. 50–56. IApameia no. 35, with a photo on p. 52 and CCCA (3) 252. The ʻCampus of Magna Materʼ (Regio IV, Insula I) in Ostia, where all three groups occur, provides one of the best examples of the presence of religious associations in the cult of Mater Magna and Attis. Here it seems that the dendrophoroi were in a socially higher position in terms of their members – as indicated by the epigraphic evidence – whereas the group of the hastiferi rather consisted of liberti and slaves, Bollmann, Beate 1998. Römische Vereinshäuser: Untersuchungen zu den Scholae der römischen Berufs-, Kult- und Augustalen-Kollegien in Italien, Mainz, p. 323. IG XII 3 178 (3rd/2nd c. BCE).

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have been already fairly Hellenised and had adapted Greek formulae in publicising decisions.127 As we saw in the previous chapter (pp. 57–58) there were a number of groups that worshipped Syrian deities on Delos. The focus here is on the worshippers. Two relevant inscriptions survive, one of which tells us that they were organised initially as a koinon of the thiasitai of the Syrians that met on the twentieth day of each month,128 while the other calls them therapeutai. The first inscription mentions the name of the priest, Nikon son of Apollonios, and his wife Onesako daughter of Zenon, but says nothing about their ethnic origin. The second text however mentions that the synagogos of the group, a certain Dionysios, came originally from Alexandria. In their study of the prosopography of the sanctuary of the Syrian gods, Ernest Will and Martin Schmid showed that the worshippers often originated from Semitic backgrounds.129 Two main groups with common origins can be identified, seven individuals originating from Antioch and six from its port, Laodicea-on-Sea. Others came from a variety of places in Phoenicia and Palestine, Asia Minor, Greece and southern Italy.130 We may assume that some of these other worshippers were also engaged in these groups or were even members of them, but no lists of members survive. We find a similar range of origins, without any particular concentration, among the therapeutai of the Syrian goddess, which only appear under that name under Roman rule. 131 However, Athenian citizens, metics and non-Greeks all belonged to this group at the same time, so that one can certainly claim that they served as an ‘integrative space’ for immigrants from all over Greece and the near East.132 Women also took part in the groups and appear regularly in the inscriptions. A closer look at one of the main inscriptions will give a better idea of the composition of the therapeutai. A good example is provided by a list of therapeutai (ID 2628) dated 108/07 BCE, which was set up in the theatre of Hagne Aphrodite. This stele contains well over 120 names of members and officers of various origins, status and gender. Women 127 On another formula in the inscription that is paralleled by a formulation found at Baalbek, see Baslez, Marie-Françoise 2005. Les notables entre eux. Recherches sur les associations d’Athènes à l’époque romaine, in: Simone Follet (ed.) L’hellénisme d’époque romaine : nouveaux documents, nouvelles approches : actes du colloque international à la mémoire de Louis Robert, Paris, 7–8 juillet 2000, Paris, pp. 105–120. 128 RICIS 202/0194 in the first half of the 2nd c. BCE, i.e. during the period of indepenedence: Will/ Schmid 1985, p. 139. The second inscription which mentions the thiasitai is ID 2225. 129 Will/Schmid 1985, p. 140. 130 Will/Schmid 1985, p. 140. 131 The therapeutai of the Syrian deity appear in at least nineteen inscriptions all of which belong to a period of roughly twenty years (unless otherwise indicated, all inscriptions in this footnote are published in ID and date BCE): 2222 (110/9), 2224 (105/4), 2227 (118/17), 2229 (112/1), 2230 (110/9), 2231 (110/9), 2234 (106/5), 2237 (100/99), 2240 (96/5), 2241 (?), 2250 (107/6), 2251–2252 (each 108/7 and 106/5), 2253 (106/05), 2277 (?), 2531 (?), 2626 (113/12 ?), 2628 (108/7), SEG 35.887 (108/7). 132 E. g. ID 2224, listing Artemidoros of Antioch, Artemidoros Isidoros of Miletus and Philoxenos of Sounion; or ID 2253: Philostratos of Ascalon and Midas of Heraklea in Lucania.

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either appear as wives or daughters or in some instances with their full names.133 Some individuals listed here, such as the archizapphos Philippos, can be found in one or more other inscriptions.134 Françoise Baslez has suggested that the word archizapphos marks a transposition of a Syrian office into the Greek world;135 whether that is the case or not, this lifetime-office was clearly of major importance to the group. By no means all of the dedicators to the Syrian deities appear in the inscriptions of the therapeutai; many of them can be found independently in individual dedicatory inscriptions.136 Moreover Athenians are much more prominent in the therapeutai-inscriptions than in the other texts, which may well be due to a possible re-organisation of the group after the resumption of Athenian occupation in 166 BCE. As we have seen, one of the groups was led about that date by Dionysios of Alexandria, whereas later leading figures are non-Egyptian, and the term synagogos itself does not appear again. Similarly, whereas the earliest evidence for priests of the cult of the Syrian deities shows that they were from Hierapolis, from 112/11 BCE onwards we find only Athenians.137 Finally, by contrast with the inscriptions of the thiasitai, which are relatively informative, the inscriptions of the therapeutai of the Syrian gods on Delos provide no details about their organisation or their cultic activities – not even the dates of their meetings. The Syrian deities in Delos and Athens By contrast with Delos, the evidence for associations worshipping the Syrian deities from Athens is extremely meagre. Just two groups of worshippers of two different Syrian deities are attested, and then only in Piraeus, with a gap of three hundred years between them. The earlier group, the orgeones of Syrian Aphrodite, led by a priestess from Corinth is recorded in the first century BCE.138 The text provides no further information. The other group, which dates to the years CE 200–211, called itself the synodos of orgeones of worshippers of the Syrian goddess Belela.139 The inscription lists the members and priests of the group, and separately lists seventeen priestesses. The pater of the group was a citizen, as were most of the other individuals, as far as one can tell. At any rate, the only non-Greek names are Roman.140 The 133 Bruneau 1970, p. 471; Will/Schmid 1985 p. 141 talk rather generally about the inscriptions of the worshippers of the Syrian deities that: “les femmes de leur côté occupent une place relativement importante dans les inscriptions”. 134 Philippos appears in ID 2253 and ID 2274, each time in his function as archezapphos. 135 Baslez 1977, p. 238. 136 Will/Schmid 1985 argued that the worshippers were generally called therapeutai. For the suggestion that the Athenian re-occupation led to the re-naming or re-establishment of religious associations, see above and p. 150. 137 Will/Schmid 1985, p. 140. 138 IG II² 1337, 97/6 BCE, see also Chapter 2 p. 46. 139 IG II² 2361. 140 Another group of worshippers, the aphrodisiastai, is known under the Empire on the island of Nisyros (IG XII³ 104 = MDAI(A) XV 1890, p. 134). Apart from the fact that it was involved with the Imperial cult, nothing is known about it. A horos inscription from Cos marks the burial

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evidence, such as it is, suggests that most of the worshippers were not only Greek speakers with Greek names, but often citizens. Only on Delos can we identify actual Syrians, and even these do not have indigenous names. Jewish and Samaritan groups As we saw in the previous chapter, the Samaritans on Delos, who describe themselves as Israelites and who met in their own meeting place, the proseuche, honoured two people of Greek origin, namely Sarapion, son of Knossos and Menippos, son of Artemidoros, of Herakleia.141 Though at first sight it seems rather unlikely that these men also worshipped the Samaritans’ god, the possibility cannot be excluded, given the communicative possibilities between different religious groups that Delos offered. We may infer that, at least on Delos, people from different ethnic groups interacted with each other without the intervention of locals. By contrast with the case of all other religious associations, which hardly ever appear in literature, most of our information about Diaspora communities is literary.142 As with the worshippers of other ‘new’ deities, Jewish settlers who came to Greece, for example from cities such as Alexandria, were already Hellenised.143 As in the case of the Egyptian deities, the language employed is invariably Greek: Hebrew was only rarely used for religious purposes such as talismanic or evocative purposes and if so, then mostly in later times.144 Whether they still understood Hebrew or not, the existence of the Septuagint meant that, as long as there was one literate person available in a Diaspora group, they had access to the sacred writings. Perhaps other texts were produced individually for some of the early Greek Diaspora communities. One can imagine that these texts might have been read together, or by a single leading person, as is known from later Jewish groups. This habit was also quickly adopted by Christian groups. However, it seems that, by contrast with the Egyptian cults, which appear deliberately to have made an effort to stress Egyptian elements, the distinctive identity of the group become important to the Jewish Diaspora communities only in the Roman period.

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ground of a thiasos dedicated to Zeus Soter and Astarte (Maiuri NSER 496, Sherwin-White 1978 p. 361). However, the names of the founder and any members are lost. Sarapion: SEG 32.809 with LGPN vol. I s.v. Sarapion no. 1; Menippos: SEG 32.810, with LGPN vol. IIIa s.v. Menippos, no. 26. For more information on the Jewish Diaspora see no. 1 Appendix II. More generally it is worth noting that the Jewish identity was not preserved by the use of a common language, as one can claim for the Greeks outside their original homeland. Seth Schwartz describes the phenomenon as ʻlinguistic assimilationʼ of the Jews in the Diaspora, which he compares to the modern immigrants to America who lost their ancestral language within two generations. Hebrew was only preserved artificially by the curators of the law, Schwartz, Seth 2001. Imperialism and Jewish Society 200 BCE to 640 CE, Princeton, pp. 38– 39. In fact, Hebrew was even abandoned as a main language in Palestine during the Hellenistic era. Schwartz 1995, 12–13.

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4.3 METIC INITIATORS, PARTICIPANTS AND OFFICE-HOLDERS In general, we can say that religious associations in Hellenistic Greece and Asia Minor were founded on the initiative, and thus in the interests, of a particular individual or a specific group. The obvious assumption is that this initiative was closely connected to an existing priestly office or to the possession of sufficient wealth to enable one to act as a benefactor. There is, however, surpisingly little epigraphic evidence to support this.145 It seems rather as if the act of foundation was not considered appropriate to the epigraphic culture of these associations, and certainly not as significant as the activities of later benefactors and/or priests. In other words, although the initial phase is not recorded, the second phase, of consolidation and routinisation is usually fairly well attested, as in the case of the group at Philadelphia. It thus makes sense to focus on the leadership and members in this second phase of the associations. Were they the same as the founders, were they locals, or were they specialists from abroad? 4.3.1 Metics from Rhodes honoured by religious associations It was by no means unusual for religious associations to honour metics. One of the most interesting texts is that in favour of Ariston of Syracuse, honoured for his benefactions towards a local koinon of sabaziastai in the city of Rhodes.146 In accordance with the usual protocol, he is to be crowned at each funeral-feast and the fact proclaimed by the officials in charge (ll. 10–14). He is also to be granted an honorary office during the annual meetings in an andron.147 No other members are named. Given the fact that the stone was found in a cemetery context, it seems likely that Ariston, as a metic in Rhodes, joined a group, focussed on a new deity, which was mainly concerned with the burial and post-mortem care of its members.148 145 Cf. for example Apollonios I on Delos (RICIS 202/0101 = IG XI 4 1299) (see p. 53 n. 16 and pp. 67 and 90 above), and the inscriptions of the orgeones of Dionysios in Piraeus (IG II² 1325, see pp. 44–45. nn. 113, 115 and 116). 146 Kontorini, Vassa 1983. Inscriptions inédites relatives à l’histoire et aux cultes de Rhodes du IIe au Ier s. av. J.-C., p. 72 no. 8 = SEG 33.639: 1/ [— — —]ν παρέχεται οὐθέ-/ να καιρὸν διαλείπων ἕνεκεν τῶν κοινῶν/ πραγμάτων· ὅπως οὖν καὶ τὸ κοινὸν τὸ/ Σαβαζιαστᾶν φαίνηται καταξίας χάρι-/ 5 τας ἀποδίδον τοῖς εὐεργετεῖν αὐτὸ προ-/ αιρουμένοις καὶ πολλοὶ τὴν αὐτὴν αἵρε-/ σιν ἔχωσιν v Ἀρίστωνι θεωροῦντες τὴν πα-/ ρὰ τοῦ πλήθους εὐχαριστίαν v κυρωθέν-/ τος τοῦδε τοῦ ψηφίσματος, τύχηι ἀγαθῆι,/ 10 δεδόχθαι Σαβαζιαστᾶν τῶι κοινῶι ἐπαινέ-/ σαι καὶ στεφανῶσαι εἰς τὸν ἀεὶ χρόνον/ Ἀρίστωνα Συρακόσιον θαλλίνωι στεφάνωι/ ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεν καὶ ἐπιμελείας τῆς περὶ/ τοὺς τάφους v οἱ δὲ ἐπιμήνιοι ἢ ὁ ἐπιστάτας/ 15 οἱ ἀεὶ λειτουργοῦντες τὴν ἀνακήρυξιν τήν̣-/ δε ποιείσθωσαν μετὰ τὴν ἐν τῶι ἀνδρῶνι/ καθ’ ἕκασ̣τον ἐνιαυτὸν Ο[— — — νεκυ]-/ σίοις ἐπάναγκες, μὴ πλέ̣[ον λογισάμενοι τῶι]/ κοινῶι εἰς τὸν στέφα̣[νον δραχμᾶν — — —]/. See also LGPN vol. IIIa, s.v. Ariston no. 187. 147 This building is probably to be identified as a banqueting hall close to the graveyard; see Chapter 5 p. 114. 148 Although this might have just been one part of the group’s activities which became visible to us in the form of their graveyard.

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Dionysodoros of Alexandria, a metic who lived in Rhodes city during the late second/early first century BCE, appears to have been heavily engaged in the local associative culture. He was honoured most generously in a fulsome decree of 122 lines by four different groups, among them three eranos-groups and a group of dionysiastai.149 The latter honoured him again on another occasion.150 He held the office of archeranistes in the group of paianistai for eighteen years (fragm. B (III) l. 83) and of the haliadai and haliastai for twenty-three years (fragm. C (IV) ll. 107–108).151 The honours granted him in his lifetime and inscribed on the funerary altar after his death consisted of a variety of standard marks of distinction including several crowns and proclamations. Nevertheless nothing indicates any direct involvement on the part of Dionysodoros in the cultic activities of these groups, even of the dionysiastai. This case is in fact very similar to that of Ariston of Syracuse, and indeed dates from around the same time. In both cases a metic is honoured by a religious association. The difference between the two cases lies in their relative integration into the local epigraphic culture. Whereas Ariston appears in the inscription of one group, Dionysodoros takes part in various groups at the same time, a fact that perhaps implies a significant difference in self-confidence between the two newcomers. As is well known, concern for the burial of their members becomes an important feature of many associations in the Hellenistic and especially Roman periods.152 Rhodes provides an excellent case-study here. The epigraphic evidence, poor as it is, attests to some 200 different associations in the second and first centuries BCE.153 Most of these were of a commercial or professional nature, but there were of course also some religious associations, mainly Bacchic or ‘Egyptian’, which are often named together with other associations in the same honorific decrees. The special character of the associations on Rhodes, with their complex in149 IG XII 1 155 ll. 40–51: [ἀ]ρχερανιστὰς Ἁλιαστᾶν καὶ Ἁλιαδᾶν/ [Δ]ιονυσόδωρος Ἀλεξανδρεύς, εὐεργέ-/ τας, ἐπαινεθεὶς καὶ στεφανωθεὶς/ ὑπὸ τοῦ κοινοῦ τοῦ Διονυσιαστᾶν/ [ἐ]π’ ἀρετᾶι χρυσέωι στεφάνωι/ 45 καὶ τιμαθεὶς εὐεργεσίαι καὶ ἀτελείαι/ πάντων καὶ στεφανωθεὶς ὑπὸ τῶν συν-/ [ε]ρανιστᾶν τῶν εὐεργετηθέντων/ ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ χρυσέοις στεφάνοις/ δυσὶ ἐν τᾶι τῶν Βακχείων ὑποδο-/ 50 χᾶι κατὰ τριετηρίδα, ἀνέθηκε/ τριετηρίσι καὶ τῶι κοινῶι. Ll. 74–84 read: καὶ ἐπαινεθεὶς καὶ στεφανωθεὶς/ 75 ὑπὸ τοῦ κοινοῦ τοῦ Πανιαστᾶν/ θαλλοῦ στεφάνωι, καὶ στεφανωθεὶς/ ἐπ’ ἀρετᾶι χρυσέωι στεφάνωι ἀπὸ/ χρυσῶν δέκα καὶ στεφανωθεὶς/ πρᾶτος λευκαίας στεφάνωι καὶ τιμ[α]-/ 80 θεὶς εὐεργεσίαι καὶ ἀτελείαις δυσὶ/ πάντων καὶ ἀναγορεύσει τᾶν τιμᾶν/ ἐπὶ τῶν τόπων εἰς τὸν ἀεὶ χρόνον/ καὶ ἀρχερανιστήσας ἔτη δέκα ὀκτὼ/ ἐπαύξησε τὸν ἔρανον. 150 MDAI (A) 25, 1900, p. 108. 151 On the identification of the several groups and the associated offices see Gabrielsen, Vincent 1994. The Rhodian associations honouring Dionysodoros from Alexandria, in: Classica et Mediaevalia 45, pp. 137–160 esp. 142. 152 One of the earliest documents attesting the inclusion of burial regulations in the decrees of thiasotai associations is SEG 21.534 (Piraeus, 325–275 BCE). For a parallel phenomenon in the Roman West from the 2nd c. BCE onwards, see Rebillard, Éric 2009. The Care of the Dead in Late Antiquity, Cornell University/Ithaca, pp. 17–18. 153 Gabrielsen 2001, p. 216.

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ter-relations, has long been familiar to specialists in the field.154 For my purposes, this is inconvenient, since it is difficult to distinguish between the various groups. Some differences, however, can be made out. Whereas the koina with naval or military sub-sections are recognisable by their names,155 the cultic associations provide no hint of their internal organisation or activities. The honorific inscriptions that mention them are likewise of little help. Conversely, however, associations focussed on an individual officer or military unit that was stationed on Rhodes for a limited period were typically ephemeral, while those that undertook to bury and provide post-mortem care for their deceased members appear to have enjoyed longer lives. Since the island was an important entrepôt for the eastern Mediterranean, it seems reasonable to conclude that here, if anywhere, fairly wealthy metics might use religious associations, as members, benefactors or even founders, to establish themselves socially in a foreign environment. Peter Fraser, whose thorough study of the grave monuments on Rhodes also dealt with the burial habits of religious associations and other associations, found that, with two exceptions, all the honorands of the surviving honorific inscriptions relating to koina from Rhodes are foreigners.156 This surely implies that certain kinds of benefactions and the titles that correspond to them were effectively reserved to non-citizens. Moreover non-locals were evidently very ready on Rhodes to engage in forms of group activity, be it religious, military or ‘other professional’.157 The mushrooming of professional and religious associations on Hellenistic Rhodes will be considered again in Chapter 6. By way of contrast, the few non-Athenians who are singled out in Athenian inscriptions are greatly outnumbered by citizens.158 Most cases involve decrees for non-Athenian officials of non-specific eranos- or thiasotai-associations.159 The Athenian evidence points to various religious associations, namely unidentifiable groups of thiasotai and orgeones in which mostly people from other Greek cities, probably metics, are honoured. I will only name a few examples here. One group, honouring individuals from Olynthos, Troezen and Herakleia, is as early as the fourth and third 154 See e. g. G. Pugliese Carratelli 1939–40, Per la storia delle associazone in Rodi antica, in: ASAA nos. 1–2 pp. 147–200 (more specifically, part 3, pp. 176–200), followed by Jaccottet II p. 263. Pugliese Carratelli was himself largely elaborating on the conclusions of Poland 1909, pp. 317– 20. 155 These include the references to their section: (syn)strateuomenoi for crews of naval vessels, syskanoi (soldiers sharing a tent or barrack), mesoneoi (rowers on warships) and dekas, (part of a naval crew that is commanded by a dekatarchos), Gabrielsen 2001, p. 222. 156 Fraser, Peter M. 1977. Rhodian Funerary Monuments, Oxford, p. 64. 157 For more information on Rhodes and its fenomeno associativo see Chapter 6.3. 158 It must however be added that the origin and status of the individuals honoured remains unclear, since a patronym provides too little evidence from which to draw conclusions; cf. Arnaoutoglou 2011, pp. 31–32 and 35–39. 159 E.g. SEG 41.171 (300–299 BCE): ἐπιμεληταὶ/ Διονυσόδωρος Μιλήσιος,/ 10 Εὔνοστος Θηβαῖος,/ Δημόφιλος Ἡρακλεώτης,/ Διονύσιος./ γραμματεὺς/ Κόνων Ἡρακλεώτης (ll. 8–15); IG II² 1263 ll. 47–49 (300–299 BCE): οἱ θιασῶται/ Δημήτριον/ Ὀλύνθιον; IG II² 1271, 298/7 BCE, l. 15: Μῆνιν Μνησιθέου Ἡρακλεώτην; IG II² 1273, 281/80: Σ-/ [ωτ] ήριχος Τροζήνιος (ll. 2–3).

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centuries BCE.160 We may also note the Corinthian priestess honoured by a group of orgeones of the Syrian Aphrodite mentioned on p. 46 above.161 4.3.2 Metics in religious associations of ʻGreekʼ deities So far, I have argued that it was likely that metics joined and received honours from religious associations of ‘new’ deities. What about metics in groups focussed on more traditional Greek deities? Should we expect such groups to afford a means of integration and socialisation for people coming from outside? I propose to consider this issue on the basis of selected evidence for Dionysiac groups, since not only are they well attested over a wide topographic and chronological range, but they have been recently well studied by Anne-Françoise Jaccottet.162 Dionysiac associations The case of Pergamum shows how religious associations dedicated to Dionysus were on the one hand used by the elite of the city to honour leading officials such as, for example, the proconsul of Asia. On the other hand, they appear to relate to the local origins of individual groups. In the city of Pergamum membership of Dionysiac groups, attested here from the Hellenistic and Roman Imperial periods, seems to have served two different socio-cultural ends.163 The first concerns the Dionysiac boukoloi, whose main period of activity seems to have begun with the Roman occupation in 27 BCE.164 Although it appears in eight inscriptions up to the time of Hadrian, little is known about the circumstances of its foundation. 165 The inscriptions were found in three locations: some in their own meeting place, the so-called Podiensaal; others in the 160 IG II² 1263, 300/299 BCE with Demetrios, son of Sosandros from Olynth, IG II² 1271, 299/8 BCE with Menis, son of Mnesithos from Herakleia, IG II²1273 A-B, 281/80 BCE, with Soterichos from Troezen and Kephalion from Herakleia (thiasotai probably linked to the Mother of the Gods), IG II² 2947, 212 BCE, orgeones honour Asklapon, son of Asklapon from Maroneia. 161 IG II² 1337, 97/6 BCE. 162 Dionysiac associations, attested as they are all over Greece and the Roman Empire from the Archaic period until Late Antiquity, seem to have been the most successful institution of this type. 163 The earliest inscription to name a Dionysiac group, and more precisely the bakchoi, dates from the reign of Eumenes II (197–160 BCE), Jaccottet I, no 91 p. 171. 164 An inscription dated c. 27 BCE, Jaccottet I, no 92, p. 172, was found in the building with the ‘Podiensaal’, a Hellenistic house with peristyle, which was excavated in 1975 and used as a banqueting hall by a Dionysiac group (see chap. 5) and Schwarzer, Holger 2008. Das Gebäude mit dem Podiensaal in der Stadtgrabung von Pergamon: Studien zu sakralen Banketträumen mit Liegepodien in der Antike (Altertümer von Pergamon XV, 4) Berlin/New York p. 79. 165 Dionysiac boukoloi appear only sporadically in inscriptions other than those of Pergamum, e. g. in the famous inscription of Agrippinilla from Torre Nova, IGUR 160 = Jaccottet II no 188, p. 302 and twice at Ephesus, IEph V 1602 a-q and IEph IV 1268. The name may refer to a tauromorphic Dionysus attested elsewhere, see Jaccottet II, pp. 182–192 and Schwarzer 2008, pp. 95–97.

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theatre, connected with the temple of Dionysus, and others still in the agora. Both men and women took part in the activities and both occupied administrative positions.166 The unusually extensive evidence for nomenclature reveals that an earlier predominance of Greek names gives way to an increasing number of Roman ones.167 The membership of the Dionysiac groups, and the boukoloi in particular, consisted of fairly important members of Pergamene society, who gradually acquired Roman citizenship, and thus Roman nomenclature. Nevertheless, there are other possibilities. ‘Romans’ were, like others, in the first instance strangers, coming from Italy to Asia Minor.168 If the members with Roman names were indeed Italians, it may be that they were using the Dionysiac associations as a first port-ofcall in an unfamiliar society. The second trend is suggested by two inscriptions, both probably dating from the first century CE.169 They concern a speira of the midapedeitai and are roughly contemporary with the boukoloi-inscriptions.170 It has been argued that the name midapedeitai indicates their origin in an otherwise unkown Phrygian village.171 Others have suggested that the name might be related to a local village or a specific part of Pergamum itself.172 One inscription set up by a Dionysiac group to contain a name that can clearly be linked with a metic is that by a synodos of bakkistai on Thera in the second century BCE. The honorand is an individual named Ladamos of Alexandria.173 His wife and children were also members of the group (ll. 21–23). Friedrich Hiller von Gaertringen argued that Ladamos was a Ptolemaic officer in charge of a garrison of Egyptian soldiers stationed on Thera.174 As is well known, Ptolemy Philopator was called νεὸς Διόνυσος and the famous edict seeking to control and register the Dionysiac cults in the Egyptian chora most probably dates from his reign (222–205 BCE).175 166 After CE 106 Jaccottet II, no 98, pp. 180–181 and in no 96, p. 178 a priestess is honoured by an archiboukolos (end of 1st c. CE). 167 Christian Habicht observed that the Romanisation of the nobility of Pergamum happened between Augustus and Hadrian. Accordingly in the early Imperial period only 5 members out of 19 were Roman citizens. Under Trajan, however, 10 out of 17 members held Roman citizenship. See comment in IvP III, (AvP VIII, 3) p. 163 and inscriptions Jaccottet II, no. 94, pp. 176–177 and nos. 98, pp. 180–181. 168 Among them was the important benefactor and proconsul of Asia Minor, Aulus Iulius Quadratus: Jaccottet II, nos 98–99, pp. 180–183. 169 Jaccottet II, nos. 100–101, pp. 190–191. 170 IvP II 319 and 320. 171 Jaccottet II, p. 191, stressing the component Mida- from Midas. 172 Schwarzer 2008, p. 95. Yet another trend can be noticed in the eastern part of Asia Minor. Here, we find Dionysiac associations named after a certain village or part of a town where they were located (Jaccottet II, nos. 77 [Πτολεμηνοὶ μύσται, Nakoleia, Phrygia], 79–80 [μύσται Κοροσεανοὶ νεόβαχχοι; Κρηουερηνοὶ μύσται, both from Dorylaion, Phrygia]). This practice may perhaps be interpreted as a local habit to establish public recognition (Jaccottet II, p. 155). 173 IG XII, 3 suppl. 1296 = OGIS 735 = Jaccottet II, pp. 276–278 no. 169 (160–146 BCE). 174 Hiller von Gaertringen 1903, reproduced by Jaccottet II, p. 278. 175 νεὸς Διόνυσος, edict: BGU 1211 = SB 7266. See the brief discussion by Fraser, Peter M. 1972. Ptolemaic Alexandria, Oxford, 1: p. 204; 2: pp. 345–47 nos.114–117.

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My overall conclusion is that Dionysiac groups, which became very important in the imperial period, did not generally serve as an entrée into local society for metics, with the possible exception of Italians on Rhodes, as in the case of Dionysios of Alexandria, and in Pergamum. The case of the Greek ‘Asian’ groups and those that adopted the names of specific villages or town-quarters suggests that membership of these groups should be seen rather as a means of asserting or re-affirming an assumed ethnic or local identity. 4.3.3 Patterns in the distribution of certain associations – the serapiastai We need first to establish the relation between the general worship of Serapis and the appearance of serapiastai. Dedications to Serapis can be found all over Attica, northern Greece and on almost all the islands of the Cyclades. On Delos, where the worship of the Egyptian deities is best attested, the cult was introduced in the early third century,176 two generations before the actual attestation of the cult and a full century before the first record of serapiastai. This pattern is likely to be generalisable. At any rate, a similar chronological relation can be found on Cos,177 Lesbos,178 and Rhodes.179 On Cos, however, the serapiastai seem to have been established later still; however other Isiac associations are documented much earlier.180 In Attica, however, the serapiastai and the first epigraphic dedication to Serapis at Rhamnous appear more or less simultaneously at the end of the third century BCE.181 In Athens, too, they appear at much the same time, almost contemporary with the first other attested dedication to the god.182 As for Kea, the serapiastai are the only mention of the cult at all; the same is true in the case of Limyra. Only in one case, on Thasos, does the evidence for the worship date later than the attestation of the serapiastai: here the worship of Serapis outside the group of serapiastai is only recorded in the mid-imperial period.183 In most cases, therefore, the cult of Serapis seems to have existed long before the organised groups of serapiastai appear in the epigraphic record. However, we must bear in mind that establishing a religious association around a particular deity 176 It is actually attested in inscriptions at the end of the third and beginning of the second c. BCE. 177 Serapiastai are attested on Cos in the 1st c. CE (RICIS 204/1101), while Serapis is mentioned already in the 1st c. BCE (RICIS 204/1002). 178 The first known mention of Serapis on Lesbos supposedly dates from the 3rd c. BCE, about 200 years before the serapiastai appear (RICIS 205/0301). 179 RICIS 204/0201 (first serapiastai). The worship of Serapis is attested on Rhodes from the middle of the 3rd c. BCE onwards, about 80 years before the first serapiastai are mentioned: RICIS 204/0215. 180 Several groups are known to have worshipped the Egyptian deities on Cos both before the first attestation of Serapis and contemporary with serapiastai. We find osiriastai already in the 2nd c. BCE, and eisiastai, enatistai and dekatistai in the 1st c. BCE (in order of appearance in the text): RICIS 204/1001, 1002, 1003. Isiastai can be found in the Roman period (204/1008). 181 RICIS 101/0501 and 101/0502. 182 RICIS 101/0201 (215/14 BCE), 101/0202 (shortly after 200 BCE). 183 RICIS 201/0101, serapiastai, 2nd c. BCE, dedication to Serapis. RICIS 201/0102, 2nd/3rd c. CE.

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might be an effective way of introducing a deity that had previously not been part of communal worship.184 I will return to this point in a moment, but will first briefly survey the apparent counter-examples, namely those places where Egyptian cult-activity is attested, sometimes quite fully, but where no texts mentioning serapiastai have been found. I start with Thessalonica. Here, in the context of the sanctuary of the Egyptian deities seventy items dedicated to these deities, mainly votive inscriptions, have been found.185 However, not one text mentions either serapiastai or any other group named for Egyptian deities. The only group of worshippers attested in the sanctuary is an association of mystai of Dionysus gongylos.186 The deity in question can perhaps be linked to an Egyptian origin or even assimilated with one. However, it is equally likely to be a ‘thraco-hellenistic’ deity that happens to be worshipped in a sanctuary of the Egyptian deities for different reasons.187 The second instance is Corinth, where there are supposed to have been up to four sanctuaries of the Egyptian deities,188 and which was temporarily occupied by Ptolemy I Soter, yet there is no evidence for serapiastai.189 In a long series of manumission decrees from Chaironeia in Boeotia, all dating to the first half of the second century BCE, Serapis is mentioned in more than 90 texts.190 Nonetheless, and despite the popularity of the Egyptian cults in Hellenistic Boeotia,191 there is no surviving attestation of a religious association dedicated to the worship of Serapis. It seems clear that the god’s role as a guarantor of manumission is unrelated to his local standing. Another aspect that is always considered when dealing with Serapis concerns the influence of the Ptolemaic kings, and in particular the Ptolemaic army, on the creation and spread of his cult.192 Elodie Matricon-Thomas has suggested that the worship of Serapis was introduced to Athens by soldiers of Egyptian and Athenian origin serving in the Ptolemaic army.193 In the case of Kea, where the sole indication of a cult of Serapis is the existence of serapiastai at Ioulis, there is clearly a connection with Ptolemaic troops. Not only was Kea the third most important naval base of the Ptolemies in the Aegean,194 but it is very likely that the person honoured 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191

192 193 194

As I have argued in the case of Athens, see Chapters 2 pp. 48–49 and 6, p. 148. Steimle 2008, p. 79. SEG 30.622/IG X 2 1 259. For further discussion see Jaccottet II pp. 50–52. Bookidis, Nancy 2003. The sanctuaries of Corinth, in: Bookidis, Nancy (ed.et al.) Corinth, the centenary 1896–1996 (vol. 20), Athens, p. 257 and n. 86, who suggests that there were four sanctuaries of the Egyptian deities at Corinth, although others have argued for only two. There are just two inscriptions dedicated to Serapis at Corinth, RICIS 102/0101–2. RICIS 105/0801–0893, all seem to date from around 172 BCE. On the success of Serapis in Hellenistic Boeotia see Schachter, Albert 2005. Egyptian cults and local elites at Boeotia, in: Laurent Bricault/John Miguel Versluys/Peter G. P. Meyboom (edd.) Nile into Tiber. Egypt in the Roman World, Proceedings of the IIIrd International Conference of Isis Studies (RGR 159) Leiden, pp. 364–392 esp. 388. On the influence of the Ptolemaic kings on the creation of Serapis see Stambaugh 1972, pp. 93–98, on the spread see pp. 98–102, Hölbl 1994, pp. 92–92 and Bricault 2013, pp. 85–96. Matricon-Thomas 2014, p. 45. Bagnall 1976. The administration of Ptolemaic possessions outside Egypt, Leiden, p. 141.

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in the decree was connected to the military.195 In the case of Rhodes, we may also assume a connection between the Ptolemaic army and the worship of Egyptian deities, given that the Rhodians supported the Ptolemies at various times, while remaining at least nominally independent.196 At Limyra too we can posit a direct link between the serapiastai and the Ptolemies, since the city was garrisoned by the Ptolemies until conquered by Antiochus III in 197 BCE.197 We may indeed assume a short but intense period of Ptolemaic influence on many Aegean islands due to the Ptolemies’ role as leaders of the League of Islanders for about thirty years from, say, 286 BCE.198 Delos is a different case. Even though the island was a depository for all sorts of decrees and dedications concerning the league of islanders, no Delians were involved in its administration.199 Nevertheless, the direct connection of Delians with the Ptolemies, who exercised intermittent suzerainty over the island, is attested.200 Yet, even though the cult of Serapis was very probably introduced during the time of the direct involvement of the Ptolemies in the third century BCE, serapiastai are recorded only about a century later. Both the idea of focusing religious associations on Serapis and the name serapiastai seem to have been developed in the Aegean, at least partly under the influence of Ptolemaic garrisons and Egyptian travellers. However, the military is not as closely linked to the spread of the groups as has been suggested, for example, in the case of Jupiter Dolichenus. Thus neither Crete nor Cyprus, which were very influenced by the Ptolemies throughout the Hellenistic period, provide any evidence of serapiastai or similar groups. We may end this section by raising the question of the motivations for choosing Serapis, a new deity, as the focus of devotion. As I have already suggested, one reason, especially in the cases of Athens and Delos, may have been that new groups modelled on old institutional forms offered both foreigners and Greeks the opportunity for a new religious identity. On the other hand, why not choose a long-established, familiar, deity for that purpose? The choice of Serapis must surely be linked to the deity himself. The habit of dining together after a sacrifice, or the dinner as a sacrificial event, the so-called kline of Serapis, often mentioned as one reason for the popularity of the cult can be ruled out. Similar rituals are known from many other cults – in fact, they can probably be seen as an essential ritual of almost every cult in the ancient world. I see no special characteristics of Serapis as a deity that could have motivated the creation of multiple religious associations focussed upon 195 IG XII 5, 606 = RICIS 202/0801. 196 Bagnall 1976, pp. 98–99. RICIS 204/0111 (Rhodes, now in the Louvre) is interesting in this context. It is a (fragmentary) statue of a Pharaoh, or at any rate a member of the palace elite, set up to Osiris-Hapi and Isis by Dionysios of Iasos in Caria, with an inscription solely in Demotic. Bricault ad loc., after reviewing previous theories, suggests he was a failed condottiero forced to take refuge on Rhodes, who took some of his propaganda with him from Egypt. One might surely also think of a pierre érronée. 197 Bagnall 1976, p. 108. 198 Bagnall 1976, p. 139. 199 Bagnall 1976, p. 152. 200 Bagnall 1976, p. 156.

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him; at least epigraphically, it is hard to find themes common to all these different groups. Surely just the god’s novelty provides the main explanation: novelty spelled the freedom to create just the associational form the founders wished. Furthermore, new rituals must have contributed to the popularity of the Egyptian deities. However, because these never appear in the inscriptions, this important aspect escapes us. The rules of Hellenistic epigraphic culture, and vagaries of survival, combine to create a wall of silence. 4.4 CONCLUSION PEOPLE, PERSONNEL, AND PARTICIPANTS None of the inscriptions discussed above contains nearly as much information about rituals and regulations as the famous inscription by Dionysios of Philadelphia cited in the introduction to this chapter. In most cases, the epigraphy provides quite different information, mainly about honours decreed to selected individuals. Our knowledge even of membership is very sketchy – we generally cannot tell whether slaves, freedmen and women were permitted to join the group. The occasional lists of members at a given point in time tell us something about gender but usually only indirectly about status. With regard to the chronology, we can say that most groups were already established at the time when the earliest extant inscription was set up. Otherwise, we know very little about individual foundations, whether for example they were established by Greeks connected to Egypt, or by Egyptians who migrated to the Aegean area. The first two generations seem to be anepigraphic and so lost to the historian. Nevertheless we have the impression that the assimilation of cults and groups in the Aegean happened very quickly. From the second century BCE, however, the epigraphic record documents an almost entirely Greek membership. At any rate this is the conclusion to be drawn from the names that appear in the inscriptions; any other argument must be ex silentio and thus inherently weak. The second observation is that it is generally citizens who are documented; individuals of other statuses do occur, but much more rarely. This tendency is wholly in keeping with the wider rule that epigraphic activity, understood as a central mode of intra-civic communication, is linked to individual and group self-representation. The deities for which religious associations were named were often ‘new’. Apart from Dionysus, whose thiasoi undoubtedly served as model for other religious associations,201 rather few groups were named for deities selected from the traditional pantheon. The popularity of exoteric deities, Egyptian, Thracian and Anatolian, is a general phenomenon of the Hellenistic period. Even though those deities often received public worship from the fifth century BCE onwards, small groups founded on the initiative of an individual were important mediators of these cults. In many cases it remains unclear whether they were brought by foreigners/ 201 This is at least suggested by their long-standing tradition and the term thiasos itself which was also used by many other religious associations.

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metics or Greeks with foreign experience, since the epigraphic evidence can only give a snapshot of an association’s life. But we should imagine that either option was possible. The case of the worshippers of Bendis in Athens has shown that what was brought to the city as a foreign import was quickly adopted and even copied by the citizens. Similar was the case of Apollonios I of Delos, whose import of Serapis and the worshipping groups associated with him soon became very popular among the population of Delos, no matter where they were from. As regards the choice between public and private spaces, we should conceptualise a continuum with many intermediate points. For instance, the ʻPodiensaalʼ in Pergamum provided the Dionysiac boukoloi with an intimate and exclusive venue during the Roman period. But this group also celebrated the public festivals inscribed in the religious calendar of the city. It has even been suggested that they gave public performances during those official celebrations.202 Other inscriptions confirm such complemantarity. A case in point is a priestess of Dionysus at Miletus who was actively in charge of both the public cult and the ʻprivateʼ thiasos of the god.203 The popularity of specific religious associations such as the serapiastai can often be linked to the spread of Ptolemaic garrisons. In the case of the Dionysiac groups, we may suspect that the ‘mystic’ featured elements that seem to have been attractive in the small religious groups and had a magnetic effect. I would suggest that something similar, namely a new or different ritual, was the feature that attracted individuals to small groups worshipping the Egyptian deities and others. The case of Jewish groups in Greece and Asia Minor is a special case, and cannot profitably be studied solely on the basis of epigraphic and archaeological evidence. I have therefore largely left it to one side. But one might certainly make a case for the attraction of new types of new rituals developed in the Diaspora. Another very important factor is the translation of the Hebrew bible into Greek, the Septuagint, a complex I will not explore further here.204 The actual translation is said to have taken place in the third and second centuries BCE, slightly earlier than most evidence for Jewish communities in Asia Minor and Greece, but at the same time as the appearance of other religious associations focussed on ‘new’ deities.205 One point has recurred throughout this chapter and is of particular importance for the book as a whole. The epigraphic evidence almost only provides information about already established religious associations in the second or third generation, after citizens or wealthy metics had become involved in them. We should assume that many others were founded but failed in the longer term, for any of a number of reasons, and never reached the stage of integrating themselves into the local ep202 203 204 205

Jaccottet II, p. 188. Jaccottet II, no. 150, 276/275 BCE. See appendix II no. 2. Being able to read the ʻJewish bibleʼ outside the temple and the homeland was certainly an important gain for the Jewish migrants. Now, not only were they able to maintain their traditional rules and rituals but were probably also in a position to modify and interpret them according to the circumstances of each Diaspora group, a feature that other religious associations never developed.

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igraphic culture. The evidence that survives concerns only the successful ones, which, through the talents, grit and charisma of their founders, survived the initial years and gradually became attractive to established and wealthier groups in the various cities. Apollonios I at Delos remains the type we should imagine to have inaugurated such groups.

5. ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHAEOLOGY In this chapter I focus on the surviving architectural remains of assembly-rooms belonging to religious associations (the German term Vereinshäuser would be preferable, but is not yet naturalised into English). Ideally such buildings should provide space for celebrating rituals, especially sacrifice, for common dining, and for the performance of other ceremonies, including dance and song. It is, however, by no means easy to draw up criteria for identifying such meeting places, since there seem to have been no general rules regarding location or ground-plan. The first question, then, relates to the external appearance of such meeting-places. Since there were no common building-patterns, this can at best be expected to result in the provision of rough groupings. Further questions concern the location of meeting places, and more precisely in which part of a city, village or sanctuary we can expect to find them. The question of identification is closely linked to the epigraphic evidence. As we shall see, only a very few buildings can be assigned to religious associations where we have no supporting epigraphic indication from the same context. In the second part of the chapter, I investigate novel features and developments discernible in the architectural remains. Did members of religious associations create new architectural forms specific to their purposes? Did different religious associations create different sorts of meeting places? Did religious associations simply take over existing buildings or did they adapt structures to their own requirements? Did Egyptians or Syrians hark back to the temples or dining-places of their countries of origin and Greeks by ‘Greek’ ones? In order to structure the chapter, I employ the following categories when discussing the archaeological remains of assembly-rooms built or re-used by religious associations. The main evidence is of course provided by the buildings and the archaeological remains themselves, where they have been identified with greater or lesser degrees of certainty. Such buildings can be roughly classified into the following four categories: 1. Non-specific spaces in temples and sanctuaries generally (e. g. courtyards, entry-areas); 2. Funerary sites; 3. Dining halls attached to temples; 4. Free-standing assembly-rooms. 5.1 EPIGRAPHIC EVIDENCE OF ARCHITECTURAL STRUCTURES Almost all inscriptions which contain rules of religious associations mention a place where the stele in which the text is inscribed should be erected. Apart from the positioning of the stele, often in a room mentioned in the text, the place itself is hardly ever identifiable since the inscriptions are mostly found out of their context. However, it is worthwhile looking at the names and terms of buildings used in the epigraphy since they may reveal the original location of the inscriptions.

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Many extant decrees of the religious associations discussed in the preceding chapters end with the same formula, namely that the decisions shall be engraved on a stele and set up in an unspecific sanctuary.1 The term for the building is in most cases hieron tou theou. Other names, such as naos and temenos also appear, but they are rather exceptional. In some cases the name of the deity to whom the sanctuary is devoted appears as well.2 Some inscriptions give an exact position as to where to place the stele, such as “at the entrance of the sanctuary”,3 “in front of the sanctuary”,4 “beside the altar, there where it is best seen”5 or even “beside the statue of the god”.6 However, even within the evidence of one group, terminology is not applied consistently: within a period of 50 years, the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods from Piraeus call their sanctuary metroon,7 temenos,8 naos9 and hieron.10 The few cases in which an inscription was found in an actual assembly-room do not reveal any additional information. A similar observation can be made when looking at other epigraphic and literary sources. It seems as if the term temenos remained somehow specific. The temenos has always marked the sacred earth within the boundary of a sanctuary, including its buildings.11 We do not, however, know exactly what was put in a temenos. Apparently the term was applied to different structures in different places. Nevertheless, its core meaning is to demarcate a specific space from the surrounding area by naming it sacred. It establishes the boundaries of a holy space. The application of the terms naos and hieron is not much clearer, 12 they are basically used to describe ‘structures’ whereas temenos is always used to describe a specific space. Other words which might be connected with assembly-rooms of religious associations, namely proseuche and synagoge, occur in the context of Jews and Samaritans. When dealing with these two terms, more problems occur, since they were used both for buildings and associations of worshippers, in some cases even in the same decree.13 1

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

See e. g. IG II² 1271, 298/97 BCE, association of thiasotai in connection with Zeus Labraundos, ll. 21–22: ἀναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα ἐν στήλει λιθίνει ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι τοῦ θεοῦ; IG II² 1326, 176/5 BCE, from the dionysiastai from Piraeus, ll.48–49: ἀναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψήφισμα ἐ[ν]στήλει λιθίνει καὶ στῆσαι παρὰ τὸν νεὼ τοῦ θεοῦ. See e. g. IG II² 1255 and 1259, orgeones of Bendis “in the temple of Bendis”, IG II2 1252, orgeones of Dexion, Amynos and Asklepios “in the sanctuary of Dexion and of Amynos and Asklepios” and more. SEG 49.61. SEG 22.122. Jaccottet II, no. 60, p. 125. IG II² 2501. IG II² 1327. IG II² 1314. IG II² 1315. IG II² 1328 and 1329. Patera, Ioanna 2010. Espace et structures cultuels du sanctuaire grec: la construction du vocabulaire, in: RHR 227, pp. 535–551 esp. 544–547. “Hieron peut par ailleurs désigner un temple et apparaître comme un synonyme de naos” and “naos et hieron peuvent apparaître comme interchangeables” Patera 2010, pp. 546 and 547. The cases in which the two words appear together are best represented by this series of manu-

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Identification of particular Jewish buildings is made even more difficult by the fact that the term synagoge was also used by Greeks to describe non-Jewish groups, among which were several ‘pagan’ cult associations.14 However, a specific pattern developed over the course of time: in the earlier testimonies from Greece and Asia Minor in which both terms appear, it seems that the word proseuche was used to describe the building. At the same time the synagoge was understood as the community of Jewish people in one specific place. Then, from the first century CE onwards, the word synagoge appears more often as a description of the actual building. But even then the indication is not entirely clear and both terms can appear in the same inscription with two different meanings.15 To complicate the situation further, the epigraphic evidence has revealed that Jewish groups in Greece and Asia Minor also used other Greek terms to describe their buildings (or parts of them) such as pronaos, oikos, and peribolos.16 In the end one will find that to the ancient worshipper a taxonomy of the kind sought by the modern observer was not necessary: the inscriptions were erected in a context which revealed its dependencies. They were set up in temples, public places, particular meeting places and sanctuaries where they needed no further explanation, neither to the worshippers who set them up nor to the visitor who read the text. Only we are deprived of this particular link, since hardly any epigraphic evidence has been found in situ. It remains to say that we cannot be at all certain about the actual appearance of any kind of building from the definition alone. None of the terms discussed gives a real indication of the actual architecture that characterised these buildings.

14 15 16

mission-decrees from the area of the Black Sea near the Bosporus: Williams II. 14, 81 CE and VII. 10, 1st c. CE; CIRB 72, late 1st – mid-2nd c. CE; CIRB 73, 100–150 CE, all inscriptions were found in Panticapaeum (Bosporus); Phanagoria (Bosporus) SEG 43.510, 51 CE. The same phenomenon occurs in the terminology of sacred officials in general but especially of religious associations: see e.g. the term archisynagogos, a term often used to describe the president of a variety of religious association, Williams 1998, p. 44. Berenike (Cyrenaica) SEG 17.823, l. 3 as community and l. 5 as building. See e. g. IG V 2 295, l. 4 pronaos and IKyme 45 ll.2–3 oikos and peribolos. Erich Gruen concludes: “synagogues, it seems, shunned standardisation”; no “uniform pattern prevailed across the Mediterranea”, Gruen, 2004, p.113.

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5.2 FUNERARY SITES “If, however, a Iobacchos dies, he shall receive a crown worth up to five drachma and those who join the funeral shall receive a jar of wine but those who do not attend the funeral will be excluded from the wine.” IG II² 1368, ll. 159–163

Membership in a religious association offered a variety of advantages, such as organised burial, grave-care and honours after death.17 Sometimes, one could even claim a particular spot in a graveyard owned by the association. Burial care, which had once been the concern of an individual’s family, appears to have shifted in the course of time from the family to institutions, at least for some people. The need for burial care to be carried out by religious associations might be linked to a more general trend. Responsibilities were handed over to institutions because people from the Hellenistic period onwards were more likely to move between different places in the Mediterranean and beyond. They had often started a new life in a different city, and were separated from their extended families. An example of such an arrangement is recorded in an inscription from Rhodes dating to the second century BCE. Here a certain Zenon of Selge was involved in the buying and establishing of a burial ground for his koinon in the city of Rhodes.18 This is not an atypical case for Rhodes. The epigraphic evidence reveals that this habit was well established among foreigners: most benefactors whose names appear on the actual gravestones erected by associations in Rhodes, whether religious or not, were almost entirely foreigners.19 The evidence suggests that burial care and ‘private’ graveyards for one’s own members were features mainly linked to ‘new’ deities and the thiasoi of Dionysus. However, not only foreigners were interested in burial care organised by a third party. Rather, one must see it as a generally increasing trend in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Burial practice is transferred from initially being a family responsibility and a task covered by the oikos in Classical times to an externally organised job. This new tendency is highlighted by the fact that subsequently other groups, not exclusively religious ones, adopted this habit, reaching its greatest extent on Rhodes and Cos.20 5.2.1 Inscriptions and grave complexes of ‘new’ deities On the outskirts of Rhodes-town, a graveyard was discovered in the south-east necropolis in the area of Kyzil-Tepe. In 1963 a corresponding inscription came to light indicating that this place was the property of a religious association.21 Several tombs were cut directly into the rock and contained urns and vases. Some of these 17 18 19 20 21

For a detailed description of the immense honours a member could receive after death see Fraser 1977, p. 62. SEG 3.674. See Fraser 1977, p. 64, with two exceptions. See examples in: Fraser 1977, p. 59. SEG 33.639 and Kontorini 1983, p. 72.

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loculi were built into the wall. The complex was in use from the fourth until the first centuries BCE. 22 The inscription is contemporary to the last phase of use and indicates that this place was the common graveyard of the koinon of sabaziastai.23 Besides the honouring of Ariston of Syracuse,24 an andron in which an annual feast was held is mentioned in the text.25 Such an andron was found in a building consisting of several rooms in the west-necropolis, near the grave-complex of the sabaziastai. Despite the fact that this andron cannot be connected with certainty to one particular group, it is very likely that it served the sabaziastai and/or a similar association for their meetings.26 The andron itself, a rectangular room equipped with benches on three sides, offered space for a group to meet and dine together.27 Apart from the publication of a first brief report of the excavator, no further research concerning this building has been undertaken, as far as I am aware. Horos-inscriptions Other evidence for graveyards owned by or managed by religious associations has come down to us in the form of horos-inscriptions. These inscriptions indicate a funerary site that belonged to a particular association. They are known from all over Greece but were particularly widespread on Rhodes and Cos.28 For example in Cos, a horos inscription was set up by a thiasos of isiastai in Roman times.29 The inscription marks the borders of the burial ground which belonged to the association.30 Furthermore, three similar horos-inscriptions of associations worshipping the Egyptian deities were found on Cos. One of them marked the burial plot of a thiasos of anoubiastai,31 one of a thiasos of Isis, both from the first century BCE.32 The

22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29 30

31 32

Kontorini 1983, p. 72. Kontorini 1983, p. 73. On the discussion of Ariston see Chapter 4, pp. 99–100. L. 16. These meetings could be annual, such as the one described in the inscription of the sabaziastai, a fact that can perhaps underline the possibility that these rooms were shared by several associations. On the building see Kontorini 1983 p. 76 and Gabrielsen 2001, p. 235. Forty-three inscriptions were found which mention such horoi on Cos alone. On Rhodes and Cos one even finds an inscriptional vocabulary which is otherwise unknown, including the terms taphoi and koinoi topoi to indicate these particular funerary sites. See most recently Maillot, Stéphanie 2013. Les associations à Cos, in: Pierre Fröhlich/Patrice Hamon (edd.) Groupes et associations dans les cités grecques (IIIe siècle av. J.-C.-IIe siècle apr. J. C.) Geneva, pp. 199–226 esp. 207–210. RICIS 204/1008. The habit of erecting a meeting place in a necropolis attached to a common graveyard is also attested for associations in the Roman west in later times as for example from Puteoli, see Steuernagel, Dirk 1999. Vereins-, Stadt- und Staatskult im kaiserzeitlichen Puteoli, in: RM 106, 1999, pp. 149–187 esp. 157. RICIS Suppl. II 204/1011. RICIS Suppl. II 204/1012.

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third inscription indicated the burial place of a synodos of osiriastai dating back to the second century CE.33 Jewish funerary sites Although Jewish groups adapted certain Greek or local burial habits,34 no evidence suggests that whole graveyards were owned or managed by a particular Jewish group in Greece. Individual Jews, however, might have bought or rented plots in cemeteries for the burial of their families.35 5.2.2 Inscriptions and graveyards of Dionysiac groups Dionysus as a deity was often linked with funerary rites and burial rituals. Many funerary stelae and sarcophagi were decorated with ornaments or figures that belong to the iconographic repertoire of Dionysus. The epigraphic evidence suggests that Dionysiac groups in particular were concerned with the burial care of their members. This burial care could take various forms. In some cases, as seen in the inscription of the iobakkhoi at the beginning of this section, the group donated a crown to the deceased on the occasion of the funeral.36 Some inscriptions indicate that the deceased person was actually buried by the group. Other inscriptions mention that the association erected the grave monument for the deceased.37 Some grave stelae simply mention that the deceased was a member of the association during his or her lifetime.38 Yet another inscription gives more details and informs us about a certain amount of money that the deceased passed down to the association in order to ensure the care of his grave after his death.39 Even though most of the inscriptions do not directly claim that they were set up in a specific funerary place, one may assume that at least in some cases people were buried in privately-owned graveyards. These graveyards were specifically set up for the deceased members, as indicated by particular inscriptions. The earliest case of a burial ground of bakkai was found in Magna Graecia, in Cumae, and dates back to the fifth century BCE.40 Other inscriptions, such as a horos-inscription that was found in a graveyard of a thiasos of bakkiastai on Cos, proves that the practice existed in the Aegean as well.41 On Rhodes, not far from Cos, archaeologists discov33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

RICIS Suppl. II 204/1013. Williams 1998, pp. 125–126. See e. g. Williams no. V. 68. Jaccottet II, no. 5, 2nd c. CE. Jaccottet II, no. 8, 3rd c. BCE, no. 9, 2nd-1st c. BCE Tanagra (Boetia). Jaccottet II, no. 89, Poimanenon (Troad); Jaccottet II, no. 124, end of Hellenistic era, Smyrna. Jaccottet II, no 23, CE 171–172, Lete (Lagina, Macedonia). Jaccottet II, no 28, first half 3rd c. BCE from the area of Philippi (Macedonia). SEG 4.92: οὐ θέμις ἐν-/τοῦθα κεῖσθ-/αι ἰ μὲ τὸν βε-/βαχχευμέ-/5 νον. “None has the right to be buried here save the initiated of Dionysos” (translation Fraser 1977, p. 59). Jaccottet II, no. 155, Cos. Horos-inscriptions of other groups such as the isiastai were found on Cos as well.

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ered a rather interesting space that seems to have served as a burial ground of a Dionysiac association. The site was discovered in the so-called Karkonero-necropolis in the eastern part of the city.42 Here, the findings are of an archaeological nature only. The identification of this spectacular place is possible only through the iconography of the images on display and their situation in the graveyard. This situation was a late Hellenistic rectangular courtyard-like complex (8 x 16 metres in size) that was decorated on three sides with life-sized figures cut from the rock. The figures show Dionysiac motifs such as the god himself accompanied by a panther and equipped with a kantharos and thyrsus. He is followed by a diaulos-player, a satyr and a young man pouring wine from a wine-skin into a crater. Finally, a maenad and yet another horse-riding male-figure are depicted. The latter could be interpreted either as Pappasilenos or as a drunken Hephaistos on his return to Olympus.43 Several scholars have suggested that this place served as an assembly and burial- place of a Dionysiac koinon.44 This would be neither far-fetched nor exceptional in Rhodes. The epigraphic evidence shows that other koina owned places in necropoleis both, to meet for celebrations and to bury their members.45 Various places were equipped with klinai and/or loculi. One of these is even referred to as a temenos in an inscription found in the complex.46 However, since the area has never been excavated as a whole, a correct interpretation of the complex is very difficult. Neither loculi nor klinai nor inscriptions which could give an answer to our questions have been found in the context of the Dionysiac images. The main figure of the scene, which is interpreted as Dionysus, is presented in patterns of a cult-statue, separated from the other scenes in a single niche. The composition of the frieze, its narrow edges and broadening towards the middle, are reminiscent of a temple pediment.47 The situation as a whole strongly suggests that this site was not only used as a graveyard, but also as a meeting place for a Dionysiac association. What was it that made Dionysiac associations particularly attached to burial customs? Fraser suggests that the collective burial of members of associations even originated in the cult of Dionysus.48 Furthermore, he sees it as a feature of the chthonic side of Dionysus.49 This chthonic side is clearly a topic that concerns a 42 43 44 45 46 47

48 49

Guldager Bilde, Pia 1999. Dionysos among tombs: Aspects of Rhodian tomb culture in the Hellenistic period, in: Vincent Gabrielsen et al. (edd.) Hellenistic Rhodes: Politics, Culture, and Society, Aarhus 1999, pp. 227–246 esp. 229. Guldager Bilde 1999, p. 237. Guldager Bilde 1999, p. 239. Gabrielsen, Vincent 1997. The Naval Aristocracy of Hellenistic Rhodes, Aarhus, p. 123 and as seen before in the example of the sabaziastai, pp. 93–94. Guldager Bilde 1999, p. 228. Rock-cut tombs and the display of reliefs in this context are not an exception in the Hellenistic era and are known from other graveyards in Asia Minor, as an example of a horse-riding deity on the peninsula of Halicarnassos shows, see Carstens, Anne-Marie 2010. The sepulchral landscape of the Halikarnassos peninsula in Hellenistic times, in: Riet van Bremen/Jan-Mathieu Carbon (edd.) Hellenistic Karia Bordeaux, pp. 331– 352, esp. pp. 342–343, 347–350. Fraser 1977, p. 59. Fraser 1977, p. 59. This is certainly correct in some cases but if one looks at the iobakkhoi and

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burial custom of particular Dionysiac groups which manifests itself in the addition of little inscribed gold tablets to the deceased’s tomb. These ‘orphic gold tablets’ were found in graves mostly in Magna Graecia but also on Crete, in Macedonia and Thessaly as well as in Achaia.50 I do not intend to analyse this phenomenon in any depth but it is worth mentioning it to complete the set of Dionysiac burial customs. ‘Orphic gold tablets’ or ‘passes to the underworld’ were produced and used by different groups with a clear idea of an afterlife linked to one specific side of Dionysus. We do not know anything about the actual constellations or activities of these groups, but it is worth noticing that in some areas, for example in Thessaly, they were closely connected to a Dionysiac eschatology.51 However, the key difference between these groups and other Dionysiac associations lies in their burial habits: a marked graveyard of a Dionysiac association often included the placement of a stele on a tomb to present the membership and religious affinity of the deceased to a secular audience. This stands in stark contrast to a gold tablet that was given to the deceased during the burial and would never be seen again until excavated. Conclusion religious associations and burial care This section has highlighted an important aspect that was sometimes part of religious associations. Some groups took charge of the burial of some or all of their members. Sometimes, they also created burial grounds exclusively for an association.52 These burial grounds were in some cases equipped with further buildings used by associations for their commemorative meetings within the graveyard. The buildings were shaped as dining places and were certainly used as assembly-rooms by associations. It is very likely that some of these buildings were shared by various groups and for any occasion that had to do with burial care. Furthermore, one can observe a particular development concerning people’s personal and family life. An important part of it, the burial care, was handed over to a religious association. Not only the event of the funeral but often also the annual maintenance of the commemoration of one person were carried out by a religious association rather than the oikos. This development indicates two things. On the one hand we can discern a shift of responsibility from household to religious association or perhaps even a merging of the two. On the other hand we can get an idea of the importance a religious association might have had in the individual’s life and beyond. It is, however, interesting that hardly any graveyards of groups with a strong

50 51 52

their extensive inscription, it becomes difficult to argue that they were actually concerned with the chthonic side of the deity. At least neither the inscription nor the sanctuary give any such information. Bernabé, Alberto/Jiménez san Cristóbal, Ana Isabel 2008. Instructions for the Netherworld: the Orphic Gold Tablets (RGRW 162) Leiden/Boston, p. 3. Torjussen, Stian Sundell 2008. Metamorphoses of Myths: A Study of the ʻOrphicʼ Gold Tablets and the Derveni Papyrus, PhD-Dissertation, University of Tromsø, Faculty of Humanities, pp. 56–61. That was not, however, always the case. The iobakkhoi from Athens, for example, seem to have accompanied the deceased to the family grave, Fraser 1977, p. 59.

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ethnic identity were found. No Syrian or Jewish Diaspora graveyards from Hellenistic Greece have been unearthed so far and no inscriptions have been found which might point to them. This again leads to one possible conclusion, namely that people, whether from abroad or local, identified themselves with a particular association but what they had in common was only the worship of the one and same deity. On this basis, it seems, they built an atmosphere of trust and loyalty. 5.3 RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS IN TEMPLES AND SANCTUARIES It has been frequently suggested that the most common assembly-rooms for religious associations were found within the precincts of civic sanctuaries. These sanctuaries were supported and controlled by the civic authorities and accessible to everyone.53 Many inscriptions referring to a variety of associations were set up in sanctuaries and may well indicate that these groups were at least occasional visitors to these sites.54 Courtyards and entrance areas of the sanctuaries may have served as assembly-rooms. Also, many sanctuaries were equipped with additional rooms that seem to have served no particular use but have probably served such meetings. From an epigraphic point of view, it is often unclear what is actually meant when an inscription names a specific sanctuary. Only if the inscription was found in situ at the sanctuary, or in close proximity to it, can one draw a connection with a degree of certainty. We know for example that the orgeones of Bendis agreed to set up their decree in the hieron of Bendis. This is true for both the ‘Thracian’ orgeones of Bendis and the ‘Athenian’ version of the latter.55 The orgeones of the Mother of the Gods set up equivalent inscriptions in their own sanctuary.56 It has been suggested that in both cases the buildings were owned by each group, and used only for their own purposes.57 This interpretation coincides with the cases of other groups of orgeones which owned their premises.58 But because neither of the inscriptions of the orgeones of Bendis was actually found in situ, we can only guess that the sanctuary was erected by the group for its sole use and not with the support of the civic institutions. In many places we do not know whether or at what point a sanctuary is controlled by civic authorities; at what point one can speak of a sanctuary open to everyone; or of when premises were reserved for and owned by an association. However, the case of the priest Apollonios II from Delos and ‘his’ Serapeion (A), 53

54 55 56 57 58

Nielsen, Inge 2006. Vorbilder für Räumlichkeiten der religiösen Vereine hellenistischer und römischer Zeit, in: Inge Nielsen (ed.) Zwischen Kult und Gesellschaft: Kosmopolitische Zentren des antiken Mittelmeerraumes als Aktionsraum von Kultvereinen und Religionsgemeinschaften (Hephaistos Themenband 24) Augsburg, pp. 31–46 esp. 35. See e.g. the asklepiastai who set up an inscription in the Asklepieion in Athens, SEG 18.33, 212/11–174/3 BCE. As discussed in Chapter 5.1, the dionysiastai from Piraeus want their decree to be “placed beside the temple of the god” IG II² 1326, 176/5 BCE, ll. 48–49. ʻThracianʼ orgeones: IG II² 1283 (261/60 BCE?). ʻCivicʼ orgeones: IG II² 1255 (337–36 BCE). IG II² 1327 178/7 BCE. Ferguson 1947, pp. 102 and 108. On the Metroon and the ownership of sanctuaries by groups see Chapter 2.

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that was discussed in another context, highlights these questions nicely. I will only briefly refer to it in this archaeological context. The Serapeia on Delos Serapeion A contained a dining room similar to other Greek sanctuaries.59 One could reach this room through the last three steps of the main stairway. All four walls of this rather large room60 were equipped with marble benches to recline on.61 Some of the benches provided name- or votive-inscriptions. One of the benches even had an engraved gaming board. The inscriptions contain important information: firstly, the members of the associations must have met here regularly, hence the inscribed names; secondly, the room served a religious purpose, as suggested by the votive inscriptions; and thirdly, the people who met here did so in order to socialise, as indicated for example by the engraved gaming board. Over the course of time, the purpose of the room changed. Originally it belonged to the neighbouring complex and was only later integrated into the sanctuary. This happened around the time of the erection of a temple in the precinct, probably at the end of the third century BCE.62 Despite the fact that in comparison to the other Serapeia only a small number of inscriptions were found in the building, those which were actually discovered in situ give a good idea of the social events that took place in the sanctuary. Most inscriptions which refer to religious associations worshipping the Egyptian deities were found in the context of Serapeion B.63 The inscriptions mention six different groups which appear to have been contemporaneous to each other, as discussed in Chapter 3.64 However, no specific room for meetings or commensality was found in the precinct. Nevertheless, it has been argued that the sanctuary offered various places for people to meet and sit together.65 Rows of benches were erected in the courtyard and in front of the temples.66 This suggestion is very likely considerig the variety of associations and the amount of votive offerings at Serapeion B. Further information about the meetings is provided by the inscriptions themselves. Some of the dedicatory inscriptions of Serapeion B were engraved on the benches mentioned above which were set up in the entrance-area of the sanctuary.67 According to one inscription, a group of worshippers linked with the sanctuary, namely the eranistai, dedicated a set of dining benches. It remains unclear 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

App. I, fig. F. The room measures about 40 m2. Roussel compares the room’s shape and its furnishing convincingly to the banqueting hall (room 6) in the Iseum in Pompeii: Roussel 1915/16, no. 2, p. 84f.; IG XI 4 1216–1222; White 1990, pp. 35 f. Before the erection of the temple it might have been a cult room for Serapis. App. I, fig. G. Pp. 55–57. Kleibl 2006, pp. 83–84. A similar situation occurs in Eretria, where such long benches were installed in the Iseum. See Steinhauer 2011, p. 187. RICIS 202/0142; IG XI 4 1243. RICIS 202/0143; IG XI 4 1240. RICIS 202/0144–45; IG XI 4 1268–69 (all before 166 BCE).

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where the benches were first placed, but one can probably imagine that the whole sanctuary served occasionally as a meeting place.68 In my view, however, it seems more likely that they held their regular meetings in a place specifically constructed for the purpose, such as the dining hall E attached to Serapeion A.69 It seems reasonable that the groups dedicated their inscriptions in a civic sanctuary, open to everyone. Like that their names would appear in public, providing a means of self-representation. More people attended this civic sanctuary than the (initially) private Serapeion A and recognise the inscriptions and dedications. The associations and individuals could show their benefactions for the good of the sanctuary and community. A good example of this desire for self-representation as an association and as individuals is given by a religious association worshipping Demeter at Ephesus in the first century BCE. These demetriastai from Ephesus decided to erect images of their benefactors in a place convenient for the demosion.70 The boukoloi of Pergamum The case of the boukoloi in Pergamum shows that both practices, that is, owning an assembly-room and attending civic sanctuaries, were important. Some of the inscriptions dedicated by members of the association were found within their own premises. Among them was an honorary decree to the priestess of Athena Polias, who was not directly involved in the activities of the association.71 At the same time, the boukoloi dedicated honorary decrees to members and participants of performances and displayed them in public places. These decrees were found in the Agora, in the theatre and in the temple of Dionysus in Pergamum.72 The asklepiastai in Athens An inscription of the asklepiastai was found in the sanctuary of Asklepios on the southern slope of the Acropolis in Athens.73 Clearly, the sanctuary was not erected only to serve this particular association. It neither provided a meeting nor a dining facilitiy for the association of asklepiastai. The sanctuary was maintained by the civic institutions. Yet the asklepiastai dedicated an inscription here and perhaps joined the sacrifices and rituals. 68 69 70

71 72 73

Kleibl 2006, p. 84, suggested room B as dining room. Steinhauer 2011, p. 189. SEG 4.515; IEph VII.2 4331, ll. 20–23: κατασκευ-/ασθῆναι δὲ αὐτῶν εἰκόνας γραπτ-/άς· τεθήσονται δὲ ἐν τῷ εὐθέτῳ τό-/πῳ ἐν τῷ δημοσίῳ ἔχουσαι. Although the exact meaning of demosion is not entirely clear in this context, it was surely a more publicly accessible place. For further discussion see: Suys, Véronique 2005. Les associations culturelles dans la cité aux époques hellénistique et impériale, in: Véronique Dasen/Marcel Piérart (edd.) Ιδία και δημοσία/Les cadres ʻprivésʼ et ʻpublicsʼ de la religion grecque antique (Kernos suppl. 15) pp. 203–218 and “à l’époque héllenistique le phénomène associative est surtout perceptible à Athènes, Délos, Rhodes” p. 205. IvP II 488. IvP II 487, 486 A-B, 485. SEG 18.33, 212/11–174/3 BCE.

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The associations of Herakles Pankrates in Athens Three inscriptions from at least two different associations were found within the precinct of the sanctuary of Herakles Pankrates at the Ilissos in Athens.74 Like the Asklepieion, this sanctuary was, although frequented by many associations, not built specifically as a meeting-place for religious associations. It was open to any worshipper, as the inscriptions suggest. Perhaps the groups had other, private precincts within which they could hold their meetings or even met at some members’ houses. Conclusion religious associations in temples and sanctuaries These examples only indicate a much more widespread phenomenon. Many more inscriptions were found in similar situations. However, these particular examples serve to highlight how difficult it is actually to pin down the activity of religious associations in sanctuaries under the administration of the polis. What makes it even harder to reconstruct the activities of religious associations at civic sanctuaries is the fact that the evidence does not provide sufficient answers. What exactly happened during their meetings at the sanctuaries and what kind of meetings, rituals or performances were held and observed in such places? One cannot say whether associations regularly participated corporately in civic sacrifices conducted by the polis. Would a member participate in a civic sacrifice to a deity worshipped by the association on his own and independently from the association? Even if religious associations occasionally met at civic sanctuaries, was not one of the reasons for people to come together as an association to sacrifice, meet, and dine exclusively in a private, and therefore selective, atmosphere? The next section will address these questions. 5.4 DINING HALLS ATTACHED TO TEMPLES The archaeological evidence from Greek sanctuaries shows that the opportunity for dining in an environment that, while private, was still attached to the temple was provided from Archaic times onwards. Many sanctuaries were equipped with kitchens and some even with dining rooms. It is often unclear who actually dined in these facilities. As argued in the previous paragraph, one cannot know for sure how religious associations were actually connected with the sanctuaries in which their own inscriptions were found. It is very possible that those associations that dedicated inscriptions to a particular sanctuary were regular guests at certain sanctuaries and perhaps even dined in the facilities provided, at least sometimes, perhaps on the occasion of a major sacrifice. In the following section I will briefly introduce two important examples of sanctuaries that provided dining facilities. One of these sanctuaries, the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth, can perhaps be seen as

74

For more details see Chapter 2, Athens.

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an example of a ‘traditional’ Greek deity. The second sanctuary was dedicated to ‘new’ deities, the Syrian goddess Atargatis and her companion Hadad. The dining halls at the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, Corinth The sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth was equipped with a large number of dining rooms, possibly up to 52 different ones in all.75 They were built within a period from the sixth century BCE until Hellenistic times.76 The shape of the rooms was dependent on the topographical situation: those dining rooms which were built to the east of the main stairway on the lower terrace and to its south, were built on steeper slopes and therefore had less space for expansion.77 However, the rooms were built systematically in rows, a habit that was maintained until Hellenistic times. One main difference between the dining halls at the Demeter sanctuary in Corinth and those of other sanctuaries is the large number of very small, self-contained units. This is on a different scale compared to dining halls such as the ʻGymnasiumʼ at Epidaurus, within which as many as two hundred and fifty people could dine at the same time.78 At Corinth, the building of dining-halls began in the sixth century BCE. Initially, these banqueting-halls were built as small houses, or rather one-room units with eating facilities but without integrated kitchens. From the second half of the fifth century onwards the units were equipped with service rooms. By the fourth century all rooms would eventually be equipped with all facilities.79 Each building had a door which either opened towards the main stairway or faced downhill.80 Five buildings were equipped with exterior benches, none with windows. The actual dining rooms are very consistent in their proportions and furnishings from the sixth century until the sanctuary was abandoned in 146 BCE. Most of the rooms were rectangular, a little longer than they were wide.81 Each room, however, had its own peculiarities in terms of equipment, such as varying niches and basins.82 75 76

77 78

79 80 81 82

App. I, fig. O. It is impossible to say how many rooms were in use at one specific period of time, Bookidis, Nancy 1990. Ritual Dining in the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth: Some Questions, in: O. Murray (ed.) Sympotica. A Symposium on the Symposion, Oxford, pp. 86–94 esp. 86 and 90. For the exact dates of each room see Bookidis, Nancy/Stroud, Ronald S. (edd.) The Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore. Topography and Architecture (Corinth XVIII, part III) Athens/ Princeton 1997, table 1, p. 413. Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 393. This is not to say that the concept of smaller-sized dining rooms was in itself unusual but it is the sheer number which makes Corinth such an outstanding example. Other similar dining facilities were found at the Asklepieion at Troizen and at Brauron, where 9 dining rooms served approximately 11 people each, Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 393. Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 394. Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 395. They usually measured between 3.60 and 4.60 m. per side, while a few examples measured as much as 5 m. All in all the rooms were between 17 and 22 m² in size, Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 396. Bookidis 1990, p. 90.

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All dining rooms in the sanctuary of Demeter at Corinth were equipped with previously installed couches made of stone and earth, each separated from the next by an armrest.83 Some of the benches were so small that the excavators called them half-couches.84 The couches served five to nine people per room.85 By the end of the fourth century bathing and drainage systems had become a normal feature of every room. Only a few kitchens, namely six in number, are well preserved. Within the kitchens the excavators found open hearths either on the floor or a little raised above, but not much equipment apart from that.86 An analysis of a sacrificial pit revealed that pigs were the most common sacrificial animals and these were probably boiled or stewed rather than roasted.87 Pottery shapes that were found in the dining rooms were often signed with initials or surnames, sometimes accompanied by dedications to the goddesses.88 Several suggestions have been made concerning the use of these dining-rooms, which were unique in the Greek world. The most popular interpretation is that families used the facilities when they stayed overnight during major festivals. Others have suggested that individual families built these houses privately for their own use.89 Another interpretation is that they were leased privately during festival periods.90 However, practically nothing is known from the epigraphic evidence, whether about the buildings or their possible ownership. The excavators have suggested that the dining rooms served to divide a large number of worshippers into smaller, more intimate groups. 91 When looking at the votive offerings, the size of the sanctuary itself, and the increasing number of dining halls one must conclude that the rooms served a purpose closely linked to the public festival and its ceremonies. Not a single inscription mentions a religious association dedicated to the two goddesses in Corinth. This is perhaps linked to a general scarcity of epigraphic evidence on the site.92 I would suggest that one must assume a specific local custom, a ritual that included the common meal in smaller groups on specific occasions. Despite the fact that no clear link can be made between particular associations and the dining halls, the sanctuary can give an impressive example of a common habit, namely commensality in a defined group, that was practised as early as the 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92

Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 398. The excavators suggest that these couches were reserved for the person directing the course of the meal or children, who held a special position in the cult. Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 399. Bookidis 1990, p. 88. Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 407. The cooking-ware that was found in situ comprised mostly casseroles and stew-pots, Bookidis 1990, p. 92. Bookidis 1990, p. 92. Bergquist, Birgitta 1990. Sympotic Space: A Functional Aspect of Greek Dining-Rooms, in: Oswyn Murray (ed.) Sympotica. A Symposium on the Symposion, Oxford, pp. 37–65 esp. 44. Bookidis 1990, p. 93. Bookidis/Stroud 1997, p. 412. Bookidis 1990, p. 87.

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sixth century BCE. This habit was a main feature of associations and was perhaps adopted from places like Corinth. 5.4.2 The sanctuary of the Syrian deities on Delos The sanctuary of the Syrian gods was situated on the ‘terrace of the foreign deities’ in the Inopos region on Delos. It was a complex accumulation of various diverse buildings among which were several dining halls. These dining halls were used by various religious associations over the course of time. The buildings were devoted to the worship of the ‘Syrian’ goddess Atargatis and her companion Hadad. According to the inscriptions, which are often datable by the names of civic magistrates,93 the main building-period of the sanctuary was in the last decades of the second century and in the first decade of the first century BCE.94 The most remarkable feature of the oblong, extended complex is the theatre, a rare example of its kind in Greece.95 The southern part of the sanctuary consisted of a court that was enclosed by several quadrangular rooms which could be entered by a stairway and an attached corridor. The southern courtyard was connected to the rest of the sanctuary through the propylées de la court. The northern part mainly consisted of several rooms, most of which were of a similar size and structure. Some of them probably served as shops. One could enter this part by passing through the northern propylaia, the counterpart of the propylées de la court in the south. The northern and southern parts of the complex were connected through a grand portico which extended to an exedra in its centre, which again was located exactly opposite the orchestra of the sacred theatre. A large courtyard, probably better described as a terrace, filled the space between the exedra of Midas and the theatre, which itself hosted a cistern. In addition to the theatre and the portico, other rooms were attached to the courtyard. The function of some of the rooms is unknown, especially of those surrounding the southern courtyard. Nevertheless, nine of the rooms belonging to the sanctuary can be identified as so-called exedras. These ʻexedrasʼ – the imprecise term describing this kind of banqueting room occurs in the dedicatory inscriptions uniquely found in Delos96 – were all of the same type but differed in shape and size. They were all quadrangular or rectangular and provided bricked benches of 80 cm breadth, and were either bi-or triclinia.97

93 94 95 96 97

After 5 Syrian priests from Hierapolis, the offices were taken by Athenian staff. See Hörig, Monika 1984. Dea Syria – Atargatis, in: ANRW II, 17, 3, pp. 1537–1581 esp. 1569. Will/Schmid 1985 offer a list of all inscriptions found within the sanctuary and their dates, p. 118. See app. I, fig. I. The origin and genesis of the sanctuary equipped with a theatre are further discussed in Will/Schmid 1984, pp. 111–113. In Greek inscriptions the habit of using vague terms in order to describe banqueting rooms is very common, Will/Schmid 1985, p. 116 and nos. 1 and 2. See app. I, fig. J.

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Two rooms, however, namely the exedra of Midas98 and the large exedra behind the theatre, had no such bricked benches. However, the shape of the rooms and the perfect fit of the benches suggest that the rooms had always served as dining rooms. Initially they were equipped with removable, probably wooden furniture that was later replaced by the bricked benches.99 From this account one can also identify rooms eight and nine as banqueting halls.100 The bricked benches of the other rooms were accessible via small staircases. The hard surfaces of the bricks may have been covered with mats and cushions during feasts. If these nine rooms served as banqueting rooms for members of the worshipping communities, one would expect access to cooking facilities and water supply. Water supply was certainly provided by the cistern at the north end of the terrace. The west wall of the exedra of Midas provided a door to another room that could have served as a room to prepare food in. The other exedras were probably supplied with food that was prepared in the neighbouring rooms.101 Similar banqueting rooms are well known from other ‘Oriental’ sanctuaries.102 Each exedra offered dining facilities for approximately seven or eight people, similar to the dining rooms of the Demeter sanctuary in Corinth. The theatre, however, offered seats for 600–700 people, a size that hints at the popularity of the sanctuary. This observation does not come as a surprise, since Delos had a large Syrian population in the second and first centuries BCE which is reflected in the inscriptions. Furthermore, the sanctuary was visited by Greek and Italian worshippers alike.103 We may also assume that people visited only for special occasions and for performances held in the theatre without being involved regularly in the actual worship. Since the size and number of the dining rooms suggests that not all of the worshippers were able to dine at the same time, unlike for example in Corinth, we can perhaps assume that they were built for specific associations rather than for a big audience. It seems very likely that some associations took part in the official ceremonies but met separately afterwards or at other times. The inscriptions give evidence that various religious associations gathered to worship the Syrian deities, as discussed earlier.104 A pair of inscriptions from the time before the Athenian occupation which refer to a thiasos of the Syrian deities informs us about some issues with the construction of the neighbouring temple of Serapis. According to the inscription, the thiasotai of the Syrian deities had built something out of an oikos that had previously ‘belonged’ to Serapis. 98 No. 8 in fig. J. 99 Will/Schmid 1985, p. 118. 100 They were presumably similarly furnished with removable benches, as seen earlier. Will/ Schmid 1985, p. 116. 101 Exedras 3, 4, 8 and even 6 had direct access through doors to other rooms. 102 Will/Schmid 1985, p. 117. 103 See Chapter 4.4. 104 For the thiasotai see RICIS 202/0194, Will/Schmid 1985, p. 139 and ID 2225: Διονύσιος Ἑρμογένου Ἀ[λεξανδρεὺς] /ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ τὸ ἄγαλμα [καὶ τὸ θυμι]-/ατήριον καὶ τὴν λιβανωτίδα, ἀ[πὸ τῶν θι]-/ασιτῶν Ἁγνῆς Θεοῦ οὗς συνήγα[γε]. For details of the groups and their members see Chapter 4.4.

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Even though we do not know what was built out of the oikos, it seems as if this association was in charge of the construction of certain buildings. Baslez argues that the oikos was the actual assembly-room for groups of worshippers from the Near East, a specific kind of meeting place introduced to Delos by them.105 The term oikos only indicates a certain form of habitation-building, a non-essential element of the sanctuary.106 It is very likely that either one of the unspecified rooms of the sanctuary or indeed an exedra was meant. According to the epigraphic evidence, another association of the Syrian deities, namely an association of therapeutai, was equally involved in construction works in the precinct of the Syrian goddess.107 Furthermore one can assume that Midas of Herakleia, who dedicated the exedra that was named after him by the excavators, was a member of the therapeutai. 108 Surely, ‘his’ exedra will have served as a meeting and dining-room for the therapeutai. Beside the associations, other groups will have dined in the facilities: priests, other staff and probably even foreign visitors and families. Conclusion Dining Halls attached to temples Dining halls attached to sanctuaries offered space for various groups to dine, whether organised as associations, as priests, sacred staff or families. These precincts, however, did not offer the atmosphere of a private structure that exclusively served one specific group and its purposes. Often, these rooms were mere dining rooms and lacked the facilities necessary to conduct cultic rituals. No statue bases, altars or similar equipment were found in the rooms, either in Corinth or on Delos. Furthermore, the rooms were too small to perform sacred plays or dances and merely served for commensality. Religious associations perhaps joined the public sacrifice and used the rooms for the common meal in order to create a specific exclusivity which differentiated them from the other worshippers. On Delos this exclusivity was underlined by the fact that, with the erection of the exedras and the specific dining couches, worshippers introduced a new way of reclining to Greece: these particular benches were common in places in the Near East such as Dura Europos and Palmyra. They differed from Greek dining couches in terms of their shape and size. They were the first of their kind in Greece.109 105 Baslez 1977, p. 261. 106 Non-essential in the sense of an additional building within the temenos beside naos and hieron, see Patera 2010, pp. 545 and 547. 107 ID 2224 (105/4 BCE) dedication of a pylon by the therapeutai, ID 2237 (100/99 BCE), dedication of a naos and a doorway by the association of the therapeutai. 108 LGPN vol. IIIa, no. 1, Midas, son of Zenon. He was, it seems, a generous benefactor on Delos and he appears in various inscriptions, e. g. (all ID, all BCE): 1689 (?) dedicatory inscription of Midas and the Italians; 1854 (end 1st c.); 2234 (92/91?) Midas named in an inscription of the therapeutai; 2253 (106/105), Midas named among the therapeutai; 2254 (106/5); 2288 (105/4?) dedicatory inscription of the exedra that was later named after him. 109 Will/Schmid 1985, p. 119. However, the benches were also inspired by Greek habits, due to their disproportionate height which goes back to a Greek custom.

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5.5 FREE-STANDING ASSEMBLY-ROOMS Another form of facilities used for meetings by religious associations were buildings independent from sanctuaries. Those buildings were often attached to or part of private houses. Often, the inhabitant of the house was somehow involved in the association. In some cases the owner was at the same time the founder of the group110 or held an important office. The problem with these assembly-rooms is that when they were attached to private houses, they are difficult to identify in the archaeological records. Often they looked like a regular andron in Greek houses and, respectively, the triclinium in Roman ones. If no inscriptions, paintings, or ritual equipment were found within the complex, the chances of identifying such buildings are vanishingly low. This is a problem that archaeologists face when looking for example at early Christian house churches. Only one example of an early Christian house church is known, namely from Dura Europos.111 But for example the house churches mentioned by Paul for Corinth are completely invisible in the archaeological records of Greece. And yet, the letters of Paul suggest that in the first century CE several smaller communities already existed in Corinth which regularly met at one person’s house.112 To find these, however, is an impossible task and even more difficult than identifying assembly-rooms of non-Christian religious associations. They at least needed particular equipment for their ritual, whereas groups whose worship was based on readings and prayers left hardly any trace. Thanks to exactly this ritual equipment and some striking epigraphic evidence, a few very clear examples of independent assembly-rooms of religious associations have come down to us. 5.5.1 Assembly-rooms of Dionysiac associations Not only were Dionysiac associations the most popular of their kind in Greece and Asia Minor for almost a millennium, but their followers also produced the most distinguishable assembly-rooms. These assembly-rooms had in common that they were multi-functional dining rooms equipped with ritual facilities. They were purpose-built according to the needs of each association. All of the examples known to us were built in the Roman period. This trend can perhaps indicate that religious associations became more established and more exclusive in the course of time.

110 As seen in the inscription from Philadelphia SIG³ 985 at the beginning of Chapter 4 pp. 72–73. 111 The early Christian house church in Dura Europos dates back to 240 CE and represents the earliest clearly identifiable archaeological evidence of a Christian meeting place. On the interpretation of the wall-paintings in the domus ecclesiae and its position between other similar buildings of different cult-groups see Elsner, Jaś 2001. Cultural Resistance and the Visual Image: The case of Dura Europos, in: CPh 96, pp. 269–304 esp. 280–281. 112 1Cor 11, 20; 14, 23.

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The ‘Podiensaal’ in Pergamum The building with the ‘Podiensaal’ in the city centre of Pergamum was originally erected in Hellenistic times. The peristyle house, which was excavated in 1975, is perhaps the best preserved building of a religious association to survive the millenia. On first sight, the building does not differ from other contemporary residential houses in Pergamum. However, according to the inscriptions that were found in the house, it served as an assembly-room for the Dionysiac boukoloi. The building was in use for over 300 years, at least from 27 BCE until the third century CE.113 The building consisted of various rooms distributed across two levels. For the time before the year 17 CE, one can reconstruct about thirteen main rooms that were grouped around a paved courtyard.114 Three cisterns provided the building with water. After an earthquake in 17 CE, the house was rebuilt on a more moderate scale: the eastern wing was removed in favour of a larger courtyard.115 In the third and fourth construction periods116 and in subsequent years the courtyard, later equipped with a fountain, was perhaps used for cultic rituals. The northern wing lost its upper floor. Its main room was divided into a cult- and a banqueting area. These were then reunited and equipped with bricked klinai in the next construction period. Traces of fire on the floor of this particular dining-room indicate that food was cooked in the room during the banquet.117 The banqueting hall had been enlarged in the middle of the third century CE, probably as a result of an increased number of members. The benches of the former П-shaped triclinium, which were equipped with a board to rest the dishes on, were enlarged insofar as they now lined all four walls of the room, apart from the entrance area. The benches now offered space for up to 70 banqueters.118 But this was not the only change: over the course of time the group’s ritual habits changed. Now, two niches were installed in the podia which might have served for ritualistic equipment or cult statues. The main cultic niche was replaced by an altar on a separate podium. The excavator suggests that rooms two, three, and four were used for rituals from the third construction period onwards. The complete restoration of the southern wing, which was now equipped with small shops, may indicate that the association sought a further source of funding and rented out the shop space.119 Wall-paintings from the sixth building period120 depict Dionysiac 113 An inscription that dates back to the years around 27 BCE was found in the building and mentions Dionysus kathegemon and an archeboukolos, Jaccottet II, no. 92, p. 172. Schwarzer, 2008 suggests that the building belonged to the association already in its first construction phase (second half 2nd c. BCE) p. 79. 114 Normal houses had 11 to 12 rooms, Schwarzer 2008, p. 79. 115 This, however, seems to have been a trend since other buildings were similarly reconstructed at this time, Schwarzer 2008, p. 80. 116 The periods shortly before and after the earthquake, see app. I, fig. P. 117 Schwarzer 2008, p. 81. 118 Schwarzer 2008, p. 81. 119 Schwarzer 2008, p. 81. 120 First half 3rd c. CE, see app. I fig. Q.

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topics particularly in the banqueting hall itself. Beside wine-leaves and a thyrsos on the main walls, a niche was decorated with a Silenos.121 Dionysus features prominently in the inscriptions and in the wall decorations, but no specifically Dionysiac pattern can be seen among the small findings found in the precinct. Two of the four altars that were found in the building were dedicated to Dionysus and Augustus by an archiboukolos named Herodes.122 Other findings, mostly small sculptures, were dedications to Aphrodite, Meleager and Attis as well as to a Hero. Individual terracotta figurines depicting Artemis, Tyche, Herakles, Pan, Attis, Serapis, Dionysus and an ithypallic grotesque were also among the findings. Furthermore the excavation brought to light four votive statues to Aphrodite and eight to her son Eros. The most popular deity, however, seems to have been Kybele who was depicted eleven times.123 These objects were deposited in a cistern in the first century CE among other more ambiguous figurines. Beside these cultic findings, more practical objects such as pottery, pans and pots were found in the foundations of the building. In addition to the dishes, the excavator unearthed food leftovers which were mingled with the layers of the floor. According to the analysis of these leftovers, 124 the banqueters ate mainly lamb, goat and pork, as well as beef. On rare occasions, they had game, poultry and fish on their menu and sometimes even snails and seashells. The ‘Podiensaal’, it seems, served as an all-purpose building for the members of the group. Here they could meet, dine together, watch performances which included dancing and singing and hold cultic ceremonies, as indicated by the altar and the sacristy. According to the inscriptions, the group was involved in musical and theatrical performances, perhaps in connection with the civic temple of Dionysus and the theatre not far from the ‘Podiensaal’. The house of C. Flavius Aptus in Ephesus The house of C. Flavius Aptus, a member of a well-known and wealthy family from Ephesus,125 seems to have served as a place for meetings of the worshippers of Dionysus Bakchios pro poleos.126 Not only is the owner of the house named as a priest of this particular Dionysus, but his house and its archaeological findings bore many references to the cult of the god.127 The inscription which identified him as the priest was part of a fountain, erected on the south side of a courtyard. The foun121 122 123 124 125

Schwarzer 2008, p. 83. Jaccottet II, nos. 92 and 94, pp. 172–173. Schwarzer 2008, p. 84. The analysis was undertaken by Angela von den Driesch in Schwarzer 2008, pp. 309–313. He appears in 6 further honorary inscriptions, and his father and grandfather in 9 inscriptions. See also the comment in Jaccottet II, p. 230. 126 IEph IV 1267. 127 See the comment in IEph IV, p. 152. For a more detailed description of the interior see Schäfer, Alfred 2007. Dionysische Gruppen als ein städtisches Phänomen der römischen Kaiserzeit, in: Jörg Rüpke (ed.), Gruppenreligionen im römischen Reich, pp. 161–180 esp. 171. But his house also included cultic artefacts that are related to other cults. Strelan, Rick 1996. Paul, Artemis and the Jews in Ephesus, Berlin/New York, p. 115.

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tain and the inscription were immediately visible to any visitors entering the house.128 A splendid ʻMarmorsaalʼ, a hall of marble, from the mid-second century CE was probably used as a dining room. A little later, Flavius Aptus undertook construction works. He rearranged the former ‘library’ into a representative hall.129 The room itself, a basilica privata, probably served as a meeting place for the community of worshippers. A second room in the west of the Atrium was decorated with wall-paintings depicting Dionysiac motifs.130 The room perhaps served as an additional meeting- and dining-room of the community. The house of Flavius Aptus outclassed most normal houses in Ephesus.131 Aptus was a rich patron who had the financial means to support an association and to offer facilities. Yet, it remains unclear which specific association met within these premises. Perhaps, the facilities served the owner’s priestly colleagues or merely for meetings with his aristocratic friends who liked to dine in a Dionysiac atmosphere. And as much as it looks like a private meeting place for a religious association, the question remains open until an epigraphic indication appears. The ‘Hall of the Mysts’ on Melos A third non-public sanctuary that can surely be assigned to a religious association is the so-called Hall of the Mysts on the island of Melos. This building was discovered in the nineteenth century on the northwestern slope of the acropolis of Melos. Inscriptions have identified the building as an assembly-room of a Bacchic group. A highly decorated banqueting hall was equipped with podia to recline on.132 At the back of the podia, marble columns were installed. Two of them were decorated with a relief showing the tyche of Melos with the Plutos-child and Athena accompanied by one of the actual mysts, namely Alexander, the ktistes of the association. The floor was paved with a mosaic which displayed ornamental and Dionysiac motifs consisting of five individual parts. It was surrounded by a series of kantharoi. Both the mosaic and the entire complex are dated to the third century CE. A boy’s head, the bust of a benefactress, Aurelia Eupousia, and a herm of the hierophant of the mysts, M. Marios Trophimos, were found in the building.133 The hall of the mysts and the building with the ‘Podiensaal’ have in common that they were multi-functional purpose-built edifices whose main rooms were similarly shaped and equipped. The mysts on Melos, however, had spent a small fortune on their lavish assembly-room, which again hints at a rather wealthy background for at least some of the members of the association.

128 Jaccottet II, no 134. 129 Room 31 b/c. See also Thür, Hilke 2007. Eine Einführung zum Hanghaus 2 in Ephesos, Forum Archaeologiae – Zeitschrift für klassische Archäologie 44 /IX. 130 Schäfer 2007, p. 171. 131 Schäfer 2007, p. 171. 132 The measurements of the hall are 23 x 8.32 metres in size. 133 Schwarzer 2008, pp. 130–131.

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The ‘Iobakkheion’ in Athens A fourth example is the assembly-room of the iobakkhoi in Athens. Since the building and its location in the very centre of Athens have already been described in Chapter 2, I mention it here only as one of the clearly identified buildings which were owned and used by one specific religious association. The precinct mainly consisted of a dining hall that was aligned towards a sacrificial altar and it was equipped with ritualistic items, such as smaller altars and votive offerings.134 Again, this building was similar in style, equipment and function to the ‘hall of the mysts’ on Melos and the building with the ‘Podiensaal’. Conclusion assembly-rooms of Dionysiac associations In this section I have developed two arguments central to this book: on the one hand it became clear that some associations, especially those worshipping Dionysus, erected dining facilities in both obvious and rather intimate places, yet in a clearly identifiable manner. They were decorated with Bacchic ornaments in the form of wall-paintings, mosaics and reliefs. On the other hand, the individual groups differed completely from each other in terms of their ritualistic activities and their idea of Dionysus’ characteristics. The boukoloi in Pergamum for instance, highlighted the tauromorphic side of the god. They were much concerned with theatrical and musical performances, including dressing-up and singing. The Melian group offered ‘mystic’ elements, perhaps inspired by the Eleusinian mysteries, hence including a hierophant and mystic. This group clearly refers to another side of Dionysus which was involved with mystic elements and thoughts of the afterlife. The iobakkhoi in Athens were much involved with social gatherings such as commensality as well as burial-care. The iobakkhoi have highlighted Dionysus’ nature as a wine-god. All of these groups worshipped Dionysus and used similar iconographic and architectural features, and yet they differed widely in terms of their ritualistic activity and the character of the deity itself. Dionysus’ diversity is a well-known fact that manifests itself in the characteristics of associations in each individual town in the ancient world. But variety was also a local phenomenon in one and the same polis. It is perhaps best illustrated by the associations of Dionysiac worshippers in Thessalonica in Roman times. Here one can discern a multitude of associations of the god. Each of them was devoted to one particular aspect of Dionysus, such as fertility, certain perceptions of the after-

134 For a more detailed analysis of the archaeology see Schäfer, Alfred 2002. Raumnutzung und Raumwahrnehmung im Vereinslokal der Iobakchen von Athen, in: Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser/ Alfred Schäfer (edd.), Religiöse Vereine in der römischen Antike (STAC13) Tübingen, pp. 173– 220.

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life, and the origin of the worshippers.135 It was perhaps this diversity of Dionysus’ character and the ability to fit his features around the needs and customs of each association that made him such a popular subject of worship. 5.5.2 Religious associations that worshipped ‘new’ deities: The example of the ʻsynagogueʼ on Delos In 1912 a French archaeologist excavated a building in the so called ʻquartier du stadeʼ on the eastern coast of the island. The building was interpreted as a synagogue. This led to much discussion about its original purpose, since its construction date would make it the oldest synagogue in the Diaspora. The next person to deal with the topic more closely was Philipp Bruneau. In the Guide de Délos from 1965, he clearly named the building a synagogue, an assembly-room for the Jewish community at Delos. Only some years later in his thesis on the cults of Delos he addressed the question again. He then came to a similar conclusion, as he would some years later in another article on the topic, namely that the ‘synagogue’was purpose-built by and for the Jewish community on Delos.136 Most recently, in 2004, Monika Trümper examined this much-discussed building anew.137 After her investigation on Delos she argued that the building was in fact planned and used as a Synagogue from its very beginnings.138 Some scholars have argued that the invention of the synagoge, then proseuche, as a specific architectural structure within which Jewish people in the Diaspora could gather for religious purposes took place in Egypt in the third century BCE.139 This hypothesis is mainly supported by epigraphic evidence and papyri. The only actual archaeological structure that can be clearly connected with Jews and/or Samaritans in the Greek Diaspora before the end of the second century CE140 is in fact this very building on Delos. It is situated in a relatively unexplored area of Delos on 135 Nigdelis, Pantelis M., 2010. Voluntary Associations in Roman Thessalonike: In Search of Identity and Support in a Cosmopolitan Society, in: Laura Nasrallah/Charalambos Bakirtzis/Steven J. Friesen, From Roman to early Christian Thessalonike. Studies in Religion and Archaeology (Harvard Theological studies 64) Cambridge, Massachusetts, pp. 13–43 esp. 14–16. 136 GD 2005, p 129, Bruneau 1970, pp. 486–491, Bruneau 1982. 137 The ʻsynagogueʼ on Delos has been subject of much discussion over the past decades see e.g.: Plassart, André 1914. La synagogue juive de Délos, in: RBibl 23, pp. 523–534 (the excavator) Bruneau 1970, Bruneau 1982, White, Michael 1987. The Delos synagogue revisited, in HThR 80, pp. 133–160 and Trümper 2004. 138 I will not go further into the discussion of the several interpretations of the building but I rely on Trümper’s detailed analysis. On the Samaritans see Trümper 2004, pp. 593–594. 139 A brief summary can be found in: Hachlili, Rachel 1998. Ancient Jewish Art and Archaeology (HO 1) Leiden, p. 16. 140 In the case of the synagogue on Aegina it is unclear whether it served as a synagogue as early as the 2nd c. CE, as often suggested. The only clearly identifiable structure dates back to the 4th c. CE. The same applies to the ʻsynagogueʼ at Priene, a former Hellenistic house which was at some point turned into a synagogue, see: Runesson, Anders/Binder, Donald D./Olsson, Birger (edd.). The Ancient Synagogue from its Origins to 200 C. E. (Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity 72) Leiden/New York 2007, Aegina no. 89, p. 118; Priene no. 112, p. 143.

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the ʻotherʼ side of the island, namely on the seashore opposite the main sanctuary of Apollo and the town centre. It seems as if the ʻsynagogueʼ became part of a larger insula over the course of time.141 The building, which was first erected before 88 BCE, was reconstructed about six times,142 The outward dimensions of the rectangular complex measured 28.30 x 30.70 metres.143 In the first phase, the building was erected as a free-standing edifice with a large hall. A water reservoir and three thresholds with marble doorsteps can be dated to this first phase.144 In a second phase, as part of a general extension to the south, more walls were erected which divided the building into several rooms.145 For both the first and the second phases, the appearance of the eastern part of the complex remains unclear. In phase three, shortly after 88 BCE, the main change was the renovation of the eastern wall with marble stucco. This was not only a ‘cosmetic’ decision, but was probably a necessary step to stabilise the wall after the Mithridatic invasion. Beside some minor renovations of the south and east walls, the building was extended to the east during the fourth phase. The main progress in the fifth phase146 can be seen in the division of the large hall into two rooms. A sixth phase saw only a few changes and is dated to the last period prior the abandonment of the island. From an architectural point of view, the complex does not feature any specific or unusual elements that would indicate a building much different from others on Delos. Its apparently unusual orientation towards the east could be explained by the fact that the shore and a little harbour were located on this side. The structure itself, including its findings, does not reveal anything about the activities that might have taken place inside it. Only one clearly recognisable feature exists, namely the meeting and dining facilities. None of the few artefacts that were found within the walls of the complex can be identified as specifically Jewish or Samaritan.147 The only indication for a Jewish and/or Samaritan assembly-room lies if at all in the epigraphic evidence. Briefly put, this evidence consists of four short votive inscriptions that were found within the complex, all of which are addressed to a Theos Hypsistos.148 Whether the edifice was planned and used as a synagogue from the beginning onwards, as Trümper argues,149 or whether it was initially erected as a private house, as White believes,150 cannot be decided, as Trümper admits herself. The fact that the building included a large banqueting hall 141 Trümper 2004, p. 541. 142 This early date would make this building the oldest archaeologically traceable Synagogue in the Diaspora, Trümper 2004, p. 514. 143 See app. I, fig. M. 144 Trümper 2004, p. 557. 145 Trümper 2004, p. 562. 146 After 69 BCE. 147 Trümper 2004, pp. 573–574. 148 The inscriptions have been discussed in Chapter 3.4 and 4.4.5. For the texts of the inscriptions see Chapter 3.4, p. 62, n. 82 and 83. 149 Trümper 2004, p. 514. 150 White 1990, pp. 66–67.

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and water reservoir, together with its ‘remote’ location, are not as strong indicators for a synagogue as Trümper suggests.151 Evidence from later synagogues suggests that dining rooms would become a common feature.152 However, such dining rooms were, as we have seen earlier in this chapter, a common feature of many religious associations and nothing specifically Jewish. If one looks for images that can be clearly related exclusively to Jewish groups one finds that these were only used in later synagogues and on the tombstones of late antiquity.153 In the early Diaspora, Jews often used the same symbols as non-Jewish worshippers; symbols that belonged to a common decorative language at the time.154 These common decorative elements such as palm-leaves and rosettas were found on most items associated with the synagogue on Delos: the ‘Jewish’ inscriptions, a ‘throne’ and incense burners of a kind that were used all over Delos, in both temples and private houses, were all decorated that way. They could have been Jewish, of course, but they could just as easily be non-Jewish.155 Whether the Jews in the Diaspora gave those symbols their own meaning,156 chose them for fashionable reasons or to follow the mainstream in their localities is subject to interpretation. I do not intend to join in the ongoing debate about the meaning of Jewish and ‘Pagan’-Jewish symbols since it would lead beyond the scope of this book.157 It is worthwhile, however, to note that apart from a few inscriptions, 151 Trümper 2004, p. 592. On the contrary, she stresses that the water reservoir “is not considered to have been a miqveh” as supposed by others, and that the large hall of GD 80 “has convincing parallels in the large assembly-rooms of buildings that served for the meetings of associations, such as the Établissement des Poseidoniastes” on the island, Trümper 2004, pp. 578 and 560. 152 Hachlili 1998, p. 29, table II. 1, and in the epigraphic evidence see e. g. CIJ I² 694, Stobi (Macedonia) late 3rd c. CE mentions a triclinium as part of the building. 153 Hachlili 1998, p. 311. 154 Among those were rather geometric and floral patterns such as rosettes and vines. 155 The throne was perhaps removed from the theatre and set up in the synagogue only much later, Trümper 2004, pp. 573–574 and pp. 585–586. 156 As suggested by various scholars and expressed by Smith, Morton 1967. Goodenough’s Jewish Symbols in retrospect, in: Journal of Biblical Literature 86, pp. 53–68 esp. 61. 157 The discussion of ʻJewish Artʼ and whether it existed at all in antiquity is likely to be as old as any archaeological research. A turning point was reached, however, with the discovery of the synagogue at Dura Europos in the 1930s which has now enabled scholars to picture the category ʻJewish Artʼ, although at the same time new problems arose concerning questions of distinction between and meaning of Pagan, Jewish and Christian symbols in the Ancient world. Later on, probably the most influential contribution to the debate was the monumental work on Jewish symbols in the Greek and Roman world, published in 12 volumes by Erwin Goodenough in the 1950s-60s. Goodenough, Erwin 1954–1965. Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman period (12 vols.) New York re-published in 1992. The publication not only generated an enormous number of reviews in response to each volume, especially vols. 7–8 on the use of Pagan symbols in Jewish art (see most famously Nock, Arthur D. 1960. Review of: Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period, vols. 7–8: Pagan Symbols in Judaism by Erwin R. Goodenough, 1954–1965, New York, in: Gnomon 32. pp. 728–736 and Thielen, Mary F. 1963. Jewish symbols and ʻNormative Judaismʼ, in: AAR 32, pp. 361–363) but it also inspired the research on the use of ʻPaganʼ symbols by Jewish people, see e. g. Neusner, Jacob 1963. Jewish use of Pagan symbols after 70 C. E., in: The Journal of Religion 43, pp. 285–294. From the beginnings onwards the discussion was inspired by the paintings in the synagogue of Dura Europos and by

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not much evidence and more specifically not much sacred evidence from the period before Imperial times has come down to us that could help identify Jewish worshipping communities.158 Conclusion ‘synagogue’ The ‘synagogue’ on Delos can perhaps be best described as an assembly-room of one or more associations rather than as a purpose-built Diaspora-synagogue. The architecture, I would argue, does not in itself differ from other, similar assembly-rooms. Furthermore one needs to bear in mind that no such thing as a specific shape for early Diaspora-synagogues existed at that point in time. Any form of assembly-room that could be used for ceremonial and social purposes would be within the scope of how an ancient synagogue might have looked. If anything it is the inscriptions which indicate that the building was used by a group of worshippers. These worshippers refer to their deity as Theos Hypsistos, a phrase occasionally used by Diaspora Jews and Samaritans among others. The building can therefore be described as an assembly-room for one or more religious associations that might have had a Jewish and Samaritan background. Apart from the specifically Jewish festivals and regular rituals that might have taken place in the buildings and which are invisible to us today, the functions of the early ‘synagogues’ were congruent with non-Jewish sanctuaries and assembly-rooms of religious and other associations.159

the circles around this building. The discussion continues into the present day, see e. g.: Stern, Karen B. 2010, Mapping Devotion in Roman Dura Europos: A Reconsideration of the Synagogue Ceiling, in: AJA 114, pp. 473–504. 158 This seems to be unusual insofar as the non-Jewish environment has seen a large production of items marked as and related to sacred rituals and traditions. One might argue that one reason why so little evidence for Jewish religious activity has come down to us lies in the idea that the Jews in the Diaspora were not as committed to sacrifice and more precisely to animal sacrifice. More recent studies have been able to show, however, that there was no decline in animal sacrifice in the second temple period until CE 70, see Petropolou, Maria-Zoe 2008. Animal sacrifice in Ancient Greek Religion, Judaism and Christianity, 100 B.C.-A.D. 200, Cambridge. 159 These non-Jewish associations sometimes followed similar rules and calenders, especially when originating in Egypt or the Near East. On dietary rules and festivals marking specific days or events in the calendar year in the Egyptian cults see e.g. Kleibl 2009, pp. 162 and 139–142; Bricault 2013, pp. 349–362 and 374–376. Even circumcision was a practice not exclusively restricted to the Jewish people. Egyptians and other people from the Near East seem to have practiced circumcision in the earliest days (see e. g. Hdt. Hist. II, 104.1–3) even though one can actually find a difference in the realisation of the practice and describe it as specifically Jewish, Sasson, Jack 1966. Circumcision in the Ancient Near East, Journal of Biblical Literature 84, pp. 473–476 esp. 474. However in Hellenistic times circumcision was a practice continued mainly by the Jewish people and Egyptian priests.

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5.6 RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS AND PUBLIC SPACE Not all religious associations were able to meet in private houses or purpose-built premises. Instead, they used civic sanctuaries and civic space for assemblies and ritual activities. In particular, public festivals offered an excellent opportunity for religious associations for public self-display. Indeed, religious associations played an important part during festivals, as for example the orgeones of Bendis at the Bendideia in Athens. Outside the poleis, public space was equally used as part of particular traditions, for example the Bacchic rituals in the mountains. Even though no archaeological evidence for such activities has come down to us we might expect that they were a substantial part of the ritualistic agenda of Dionysiac associations. Dionysiac associations and public space Epigraphic evidence from Magnesia ad Meandrum provides vital information. An association of Dionysiac mysts was active in the city.160 They were involved with dramatic and musical activities, which were perhaps performed during public festivals.161 A particular space on the Agora of Magnesia was reserved for such groups: among the so-called topos-inscriptions which indicated the correct place for the various groups during public festivals and processions, we find the ʻfriends of Dionysusʼ.162 Another inscription which was originally erected in Hellenistic times and copied during the reign of Hadrian informs the reader about the mythical introduction of three Dionysiac thiasoi by maenads from Thebes.163 According to the inscription, the maenads introduced the people from Magnesia into the orgia and Bacchic rites originating at Thebes. One part of these rites was presumably the excursion εὶς ὄρος, to the mountain.164 These excursions will have taken place outside, in the nature. To perform the rituals, those places were supposedly equipped with ephemeral elements such as wooden benches and huts made of greenery. In nearby Smyrna, groups of Dionysiac mysts appear in the epigraphic evidence next to professional Dionysiac technites.165 This corporation suggests that 160 IMagn 215b, Hadrianic, mysts dedicate an Altar to Dionysus. 161 At the same time, the group owned a burial-plot for their members. Jaccottet II, no. 147, IMagn 117, early 2nd c. CE. The inscription names certain rules concerning the burial rites but also offers hints in another direction: it seems as if these mysts performed specific dramatic rituals that were based on Dionysiac myths. 162 Bingöl, Orhan 2006. Magnesia, in: Stadtgrabung und Stadtforschung im westlichen Kleinasien (BYZAS 3) pp. 215–226 esp. 225. 163 IMagn 215. On the dates and the historicity of the document see Henrichs, Albert 1978. Greek Maenadism from Olympias to Messalina, in: HSPh 82, pp. 121–160 esp. 126–130. The inscription is clearly referring to Euripides’ Bacchae. 164 Eur. Bacc. 116. The same expression appears in an inscription from Miletus from 276/275 BCE in which the priestess leads the thiasos into the mountains, Jaccottet II, no. 150. 165 Jaccottet II, nos. 115–117/ISmyrna 652, 731, 732 (1st c. BCE) and Jaccottet II, no. 121/ISmyrna 639 (second half 2nd c. BCE).

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the mysts were also involved in public festivals and very probably public dramatic performances, since the technites were a guild of professional actors in Smyrna.166 ‘New’ deities and public space Similar patterns to those of the Dionysiac groups are also found in associations devoted to other deities, for example to the Egyptian deities. Surely various religious associations were involved in the Ploiaphesia, the opening festival of the shipping season. We might even think of a pompe similar to the procession of Isis’ devotees described by Apuleius in his Metamorphoses.167 Furthermore, two inscriptions from the Iseion of Eretria give evidence of nauarchs. These nauarchs were somehow involved in the festival of the Ploiaphesia.168 Finally, at Athens we know about the pompe of the orgeones of Bendis. Many people watched this attractive spectacle most famously described by Plato.169 Conclusion religious associations and public space The archaeological record holds hardly any evidence for the public engagement of religious associations. Yet they appear to have been heavily involved in public life in many different places in the Aegean in the Hellenistic and Roman eras. This could either be alongside other worshippers during festivals, or as an association on their own out in nature as an important part of their ritual life. Annual festivals offered the opportunity for certain associations to be in the spotlight and viewed by many citizens, as for example the ‘Thracian’ orgeones of Bendis. Taking part in a public festival provided a very efficient way to gain public recognition. Furthermore, I suggest that some associations had no general meeting place at all, instead being exclusively involved in outdoor activities or meeting at civic sanctuaries or other public places. This suggestion is particularly attractive when considering the numerical proportion of inscriptions which indicate the existence of religious associations compared with the actual number of archaeological finds. Finally, I believe that some associations did not even exist long enough to collect money to pay for a building, or even an inscription. These associations perhaps occasionally rented a room for their meetings or only gathered for a one-off occasion at a particular festival.

166 On the unusual corporation see Jaccottet II pp. 216–217. 167 Apul. Met. XI, 8–12. 168 RICIS 104/0109; RICIS 104/0111, 1st c. BCE. For a further discussion of the festival at Eretria see Steinhauer 2010, p. 200 and more generally Bricault 2013, pp. 378–386. 169 Pl. R. 327a-b.

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5.7 CONCLUSION: ARCHITECTURE AND ARCHAEOLOGY The common graveyard seems to be a feature of particular importance to worshippers of ‘new’ deities and Dionysiac groups.170 The ‘new’ kind of burial care seems to have been established especially strongly in cosmopolitan places. In important merchant cities, that is, economic centres where people from all over the Mediterranean lived and eventually died, the responsibility for burial was often a task of religious associations, and later other associations too. Civic sanctuaries certainly offered space for meetings of religious associations. Many of their inscriptions were found in the context of civic sanctuaries. Some sanctuaries even provided the space that was necessary to host a group, for example in a courtyard or a similar architectural feature. This solution, I believe, was unlikely to be a question of choice. Rather, it was due to the individual circumstances of each association both in terms of its financial situation and organisational form. Exclusivity, however, was a main concern of religious associations and so, consequently, was the private space to meet in. I am convinced that the private atmosphere of the groups was one fundamental selling-point to attract new members. Concerning the dining halls attached to sanctuaries, one can only suppose that they were used by specific religious associations rather than by random groups of worshippers, as suggested for Corinth. In most cases no inscription mentions a particular group. Furthermore, we cannot obtain copies of any letting contracts or similar agreements concerning property which belonged to the sanctuary. 171 In the case of Athens, it becomes clear that rather the opposite was the case: groups rented out their property to others. We can say, perhaps, that in Greece, the aim of religious associations was to organise themselves. If possible, they did this in a rather private and independent framework which becomes manifest, especially in Roman times, through the example of Dionysiac groups and their buildings. Already in the fourth century, however, Athenian orgeones owned their premises and used them for their celebrations. These celebrations were nonetheless only annual occasions and so unlike, for example, the meetings of the iobakkhai. The orgeones were therefore able to let their premises, which again brought in funding for sacrifice. None of the sanctuaries with meeting facilities for religious associations, or free-standing assembly-rooms, allow us to draw any general architectural patterns. Unlike for example the worshippers of Mithras, who created similar assembly-rooms all over the Roman Empire, no such specific pattern can be observed. Only the assembly-rooms of Dionysiac associations in the centuries CE were simi170 This result may be slightly blurred by the larger amount of evidence concerning the Dionysiac groups. 171 In the Near East it was not unusual among religious associations to rent a place within a sanctuary for a certain time to celebrate together. Here, most religious associations owned or rented buildings attached to temples rather than private places, Buchmann, Julian 2006. Räumlichkeiten für Bankette und Versammlungen in ausgewählten Heiligtümern in Dura-Europos, in: Inge Nielsen (ed.) Zwischen Kult und Gesellschaft: Kosmopolitische Zentren des antiken Mittelmeerraumes als Aktionsraum von Kultvereinen und Religionsgemeinschaften (Hephaistos Themenband 24) Augsburg, pp. 93–100 esp. 94–95.

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lar in that they were all able to host banquets. The majority of buildings of religious associations were located within cities or their immediate surroundings. Some of the assembly-rooms were found within funerary districts and were used regularly and not only on the occasion of a member’s death. Those precincts are found from Hellenistic times until the Roman era. The habit of dining in tri- and biclinia within graveyards was widely adapted in Roman times by professional collegia.172 With regard to the allocation of free-standing assembly-rooms in a city, one cannot detect any particular patterns, neither in the character of the association nor the deity worshipped. It seems as if the only regularity lies in the fact that groups around ‘new’ deities often appear in the newer parts of each city, probably owing to the pre-existing building conditions. The ‘private’ Metroon of the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods was located in the mushrooming port of Hellenistic Piraeus rather than in the city centre of Athens.The ‘main’ Metroon, however, which gave protected space for the archives of Athens, was located beside the Acropolis. A similar situation occurred on Delos, where the worshippers of the Egyptian and Syrian deities met in buildings which were set up in growing areas. Similarly, the assembly-rooms of the worshippers of Theos Hypsistos was erected in a newly established area. Whether these locations were chosen consciously, for practical reasons or without any such intention at all cannot be decided. It is striking, however, that on Delos the assembly-rooms of the Oriental merchants such as the poseidoniastai of Berytos and others were, in contrast to the religious associations, located in the very centre of the city, in buildings erected in the manner of Greek architecture.173 The private sanctuaries, however, erected by the same people, were all shaped the Oriental way and were located outside the city, on Mt Kynthos. Apart from the professional associations, city centres seem to have been reserved for the groups devoted to rather traditional and local deities and heroes. This at least is true of Hellenistic Athens. In Roman times, Dionysiac groups appear in city-centres. Whether at Pergamum, Athens, Melos or Ephesus, their dining halls can be located in the very centre of each city. Parallels can be drawn between the rather ‘conservative’ way in which Dionysiac groups built their meeting halls, simple andra/triclinia and the composition of the members who were mostly Greeks and often citizens. In contrast, a novel way of reclining during the sacred banquet was introduced to Delos by associations worshipping the Syrian deities. Soon afterwards, these new dining habits from Palmyra, Hierapolis and later Dura-Europos became widespread. Owing to the fact that no other specific architectural patterns were found, the dining hall became a main criterion for identifying and classifying assembly-rooms of religious associations in this chapter. This focus on dining halls has perhaps obscured our view of a possible variety of other, unidentified assembly-rooms, due to a lack of alternative means of identification. The architecture was often dominated 172 Stehmeier, Sarah R. 2006. Gemeinschaft über den Tod hinaus. Grabtriklinien als Festplätze römisch-kaiserzeitlicher collegia, in: Inge Nielsen (ed.) Zwischen Kult und Gesellschaft: Kosmopolitische Zentren des antiken Mittelmeerraumes als Aktionsraum von Kultvereinen und Religionsgemeinschaften (Hephaistos Themenband 24) Augsburg, pp. 215–223. 173 See Trümper 2006 p. 122.

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by pre-existing structures and materials. This adoption perhaps bore a close resemblance to the groups’ adaptation of pre-existing terminology and nomenclature that we have seen especially in Athens.

6. RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS AND CIVIC INSTITUTIONS My aim in this chapter is to investigate several questions relating to the processes by which religious associations were established as parts of Greek poleis. The chapter focusses in particular on how religious associations were related to pre-existing civic institutions, a topic that has been widely discussed in modern scholarship.1 Much of the discussion has so far revolved around the legal, economic and social characteristics of associations. This is perhaps because legal issues and social status are more likely to be revealed by the epigraphic evidence than, for instance, the process of rituals, religious manifestations and beliefs. This chapter will tackle the topic from a different angle by focusing on the ritualistic and innovative side of religious associations that lies underneath the often formal mask of inscriptions. In order to develop as complete a picture as possible of exactly these religious aspects, I compare the epigraphic evidence from three poleis which differed from one another in their location, the character of the evidence and their history. Athens, Delos and Rhodes each provide sufficient evidence.2 But since each of these poleis presents us with a varied amount and character of evidence, the parts of the chapter vary in topical focus and length. The analysis of the Athenian evidence takes up most of the chapter simply owing to our understanding of the city’s administration, the amount of evidence for religious associations, and the broad discussion of the topic in modern scholarship. Nevertheless, the following questions concerning the institutionalisation of religious associations in each polis are addressed in equal measure. Firstly, whether one can actually speak of religious associations as completely new institutions, or secondly, whether one must think of them as older institutions that were introduced externally into each polis by, say, immigrants. Thirdly, should one think of religious associations as pre-existing and perhaps even ancient institutions that were adopted and put to new uses for the individual purposes of religious associations, or fourthly, whether we should see the associations as some variation on or combination of each option. The argument of this chapter concerns the image of religious associations provided by the evidence. I believe that the institutional character revealed when looking at religious associations through the medium of epigraphy is only one minor aspect. It is not very useful for understanding the character of religious associations, despite what has sometimes been claimed by scholars in the last two centuries. In fact, the information provided by inscriptions does not reveal much about the actual activities of the groups. It rather underlines and nourishes our modern obsession 1 2

See e. g. for Athens Jones 1999, Planeaux 2000, Arnaoutoglou 2003, Ismard 2010. For Asia Minor see: Van Nijf 1997, Gabrielsen 2001, Gabrielsen 2008 (Rhodes). This is widely acknowledged, see e. g. Suys 2005: “à l’époque héllenistique le phénomène associative est surtout perceptible à Athènes, Délos, Rhodes” p. 203.

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with taxonomy; indeed, I believe that it even prevents the modern observer from seeing what mattered most to contemporaries. Therefore, one needs to understand why religious associations chose to represent this image in public and try to extract what was lying beyond. 6.1 ATHENS The case study on Athens presented in Chapter 2 revealed a history of religious associations from the end of the fifth century BCE onwards. Religious associations had perhaps existed before this, but they only became visible to the modern observer as the epigraphic habit took hold.3 Over the course of time these religious associations, which were initially termed orgeones and thiasoi, adopted not only the language of the polis but also appear to have taken up elements of the organisational structure and honorary practices of other civic institutions. These institutions included the phylai, phratries, ephebies and civic sanctuaries. Religious associations – copies of the polis? According to the communis opinio, religious associations in Athens were influenced by the structures of the polis itself. Gabrielsen claims for example that in general all associations “copied [the polis-model] almost wholesale” and in Arnaoutoglou’s view “The conceptual horizon of the Athenians, which was reproduced on every occasion, was that of the polis”.4 A similar view is predominant when it comes to the Roman collegia.5 It is true that when we consider the epigraphic record, religious associations appear to have adapted the language and terminology of the polis in naming their officers in line with some of the older religious and political institutions found in Athens.6 The general tendency among the associations was, as seen in the inscriptions throughout this book, to name their offices after the existing administrative roles in the sanctuaries provided by the polis. Furthermore, they followed similar models for elections to these offices, as

3 4

5 6

The Amyneion, the meeting place of the orgeones of Amynos, Dexion and Asklepios, was erected in the 6th c. BCE. See e. g. Gabrielsen, Vincent 2008. Brotherhoods of faith and providence: The non-public associations of the Greek world, in: Irad Malkin/Christie Constantakopoulou/Katerina Panagopoulou (edd.) Greek and Roman Networks in the Mediterranean, London, pp. 176–203 esp. 181–183, quote from p. 182. One of Arnaoutoglou’s main claims in his thesis is that “the close connection between the organisation of the city and that of an association reveals that the pattern of political activities and organisation in Athens influenced decisively that of cult associations”, Arnaoutoglou 2003, p. 141. Patterson writes: “the activities of the collegia can be seen to parallel on a smaller scale those of the civic community”, Patterson John R. 2006. Landscapes and Cities. Rural Settlement and Civic Transformation in Early Imperial Italy, Oxford, p. 256. The epigraphic evidence of religious associations contains eg. grammateis, hieropoioi, epimeletai.

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for example the annual election of administrative staff by lot.7 However, this information on its own does not substantially contribute to our knowledge of religious associations, let alone help us to explain their increasing popularity. Rather one must ask what does the use of pre-existing administrative titles tell us about these associations. Indeed, one will find various terms ‘borrowed’ from civic institutions and frequently used by religious associations. I argue that in fact these terms were not used in a strict sense and that their appropriation involved significant changes to their meaning when used by religious associations. 6.1.1 Religious associations, civic models, and administrative language Among the terms which are used to actually describe the associations’ offices are for example the epimeletai who, when part of a religious association, could be responsible for various jobs. They tended to be generally in charge of the affairs of the deity and the group.8 However, they were also responsible for the supervision of repairs at the temple and at the same time they were assigned, among other things, to supervise the procession of the deity.9 The grammateis, that is, the secretaries, of the religious associations were, as their name suggests, responsible for the supervision of the inscription of decrees. The tamiai were normally responsible for the administration of all financial matters and the hieropoioi supervised the procession and the distribution of the sacrificial meat. If one looks more closely, however, one will find that when it comes to religious associations the offices were not actually as defined as the names might suggest. Hieropoioi and epimeletai could equally well supervise processions. The grammateus helped with the financial administration of an association and supervised construction works, just as the epimeletai.10 In the end one can say that yes, religious associations used terms suggested by civic institutions, but they also customised them according to their needs.11 A side effect of using a common administrative language is that the differences between the associations appear blurred to us. For the associations themselves, however, that was a positive side-effect. The common language could help make their organisation and actions comprehensible to others and might serve as a sort of public justification. Adapting existing terms and institutional models does not necessarily imply a conscious will to copy a pre-existing ideal form predetermined by the city. It might 7

8 9 10 11

For example Arnaoutoglouʼs observations concerning the issuing of decrees and statutes by the groups are that they were “similar but not identical to that of the polis”. On the act of dealing with officials he claims that “they were appointing their officials following the same methods and distinctions (as the polis)”, Arnaoutoglou 2003, p. 141. See e. g. IG II² 1256, ll. 4–6. See IG II² 1324, ll. 2–10. See IG II² 1329, ll. 6–19. For a further analysis of the variety of terms and offices to be found in religious associations see Kloppenborg, John S. 1996. Collegia and thiasoi. Issues in function, taxonomy and membership, in: John S. Kloppenborg/Stephen G. Wilson (edd.) Voluntary Associations in the Graeco-Roman world, London/New York, pp. 16–30 esp. 26.

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only reflect the Athenian official terminology that is often used for a variety of occasions. In other words, there might have been no alternative language and institutional model worth copying. Yet this solution does not appear to be a very attractive one. Rather I would suggest that using existing language could be seen as a deliberate choice to present novelty in terms that were non-threatening and familiar to everyone. Pre-existing structures were used as well as the pre-existing language. Furthermore, certain activities were adopted, such as procedures by which benefactors were honoured, money was raised and administrative staff were elected. Athenian civic language and non-Athenian foundations of religious associations In organising a religious association, one could introduce new rituals and deities as an alternative to the existing options provided by the city. Furthermore, the model ‘religious association’ provided the opportunity for non-Athenians to initiate and found their own association.12 These non-Athenians equally used certain Athenian administrative structures. Their administrative and cultic officials were similar in their names to magistrates and sacred offices known from public sanctuaries in the polis. When founding an association as a non-Athenian in Athens, it seems a wise decision to adopt and adapt to successful structures and terminology that had already been in use for a long time. Non-Greeks in particular were eager to use Greek terminology and phrasing to label their cultic and administrative offices. Immigrants did not arrive in Athens without religious institutions for the deities thy chose to worship. But they needed to adapt to a common language which meant that their form of worship was then easily understandable to others. In doing so, they were able to signal openness to their new environment. Introducing for example the worship of a ‘new’ deity in the form of an association was an easy way not only to establish one’s own deity but also to become an established member of the new society oneself. 6.1.2 Athenian associations and their heritage. The development of names, membership and structures Associations, whether linked to political, social or ethnic entities, had a long-standing history in Athens dating back to archaic and Classical times. There is no doubt that some religious associations later adapted parts of these structures and perhaps even originated here, as for example in the orgeones.13 This is perhaps why in Athens the heyday of associations is already attested in the fourth and third, rather than the second century BCE, as in other parts of Greece, while taking into account dif12 13

Foreigners “set up their cult associations in Hellenistic Athens following the organizational model of the Athenian state”, Arnaoutoglou 2003, p. 144. The complex history of the term orgeones and the origin of the groups associated with it has been thoroughly discussed by Arnaoutoglou 2003, pp. 30–60.

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ferences in the epigraphic habit.14 One development however, coincides with the general heyday of associations in the Greek world: significant changes in the naming practice of religious associations can be identified in the second century BCE. Changes in terminology The term thiasos, used as a rather general label for any kind of association, was most common in the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. In the second and first centuries BCE its usage decreased. In contrast, the old Athenian term orgeones was regularly used by associations until the end of the first century BCE. In the second half of the third century BCE new terms describing religious associations appeared. Most prominent among these new terms is synodos.15 It is possible that these changes in vocabulary depended upon a specialisation of a given group’s activities, perhaps linked to a takeover of tasks formerly fulfilled by civic groups, as suggested by Ismard.16 But this is only one part of the story. Whether these developments were immediately dependent on the reorganisation of the traditional Athenian organisations, or whether we should imagine a slow process conditioned by various influences, cannot be decided.17 A shift in certain responsibilities, such as burial-care from household to religious association, is evident at the latest from the second century BCE. In Piraeus, for example, the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods provided memorial care for the deceased and their burial.18 Religious associations and immigration The influence of immigrants from all over Greece and the Mediterranean was a crucial factor in the restructuring of the classical polis. Even though Classical Athens already had many metics among its inhabitants, as well as institutions that took care of their concerns, it seems that during the Hellenistic period more people from the new Hellenistic kingdoms were immigrating to mainland Greece. Religious associations consisted of both citizens and metics, among them nonGreeks.19 Over the course of time, and especially from the second century onwards,

14 15 16 17

18 19

Ismard 2010, p. 345. Ismard 2010, pp. 346–348. Ismard 2010, p. 345. However, the establishment of religious associations at this point might well be an independent development which can only partly be linked to political trends. Jörg Rüpke makes a similar argument about Roman religion (Rüpke 2011, p. 30). He claims that “religion does not necessarily have to play second fiddle to political developments, but might itself be an area for experiment and a medium for the creation of new structures” in the Roman empire, an observation that can be adapted to the development of religious associations in cities such as Athens, as I have argued in Chapter 2. IG II² 1327, 178/77 BCE. See e. g. Chapter 2 pp. 43 and 49. Similar observations were made by Ismard 2010, p. 348. Accordingly one can find ʻassociationsʼ consisting of citizens and, as he phrases it, ʻforeignersʼ from the 2nd c. BCE onwards.

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more metics, and among them non-Greeks, are identifiable in the inscriptions.20 However, if one considers that in many cases the names of the first generations of settlers or initiators of cults and religious associations were not engraved in stone, or have simply not been found and therefore escape us, it is almost impossible to know when metics and especially non-Greeks got involved. I suggest that the actual beginnings of this phenomenon coincide with the establishment of the Hellenistic empires at the end of the fourth and beginning of the third century BCE rather than only in the second and first centuries BCE, as is suggested by the epigraphic evidence. Membership-lists – a new ‘old’ habit A further development, perhaps indicating changes in the organisational structure of religious associations, manifests itself in the form of membership-lists. From the third century BCE onwards, there is a remarkable increase in names listed on inscriptions erected by religious associations. The habit of listing names was perhaps inspired by major organisations such as demes and phratries, for which there are catalogues displaying a multitude of members.21 Owing to the rather fragmentary nature of most inscriptions, it is in many cases difficult to decide whether or not they name the actual members of one particular longer-standing religious association, or whether they only display the names of people who took part at one specific occasion (or even in the raising of an eranos out of non-religious motivation).22 So what can this new fashion of engraving names in stone tell us about religious associations in Athens? I believe that there was more to it than merely a desire to copy other civic associations, as suggested by Ismard.23 Rather, it was a possibility to make a public display of one’s piety, generosity or affiliation, an important means of self-promotion for citizens and metics alike.24

20 21 22

23 24

Ismard 2010, p. 351. See IG II² 2344 and IG II² 2345, providing two demes-catalogues and Ismard p. 384. For most associations, one cannot make any assumption about the actual number of their members. In many cases only the officials and/or a benefactor appear in the texts. This situation is illustrated by the example of the orgeones of Bendis in Athens and Piraeus. It has been suggested that the orgeones of Bendis consisted of large numbers of members (see e.g. Ferguson 1944, pp. 99–104). Yet none appear in the inscriptions. Furthermore, no architectural remains have been found that would support the argument. The assumption has been made on the basis of the rather scarce information about the organisation and administration given by the epigraphic evidence. Ismard 2010, p. 384. This need to display oneʼs name cannot only be seen in individual dedicatory inscriptions, inscriptions of groups of any kind, or in grave inscriptions but also in the very long and detailed inventory inscriptions from public sanctuaries, i. e. from Delos, which seem to point in the same direction.

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6.1.3 Conclusion: religious associations in Athens It is one thing to point out the similarities between religious associations in Athens and other associations and groups, whether political or consisting of ephebes, craftsmen, artists or suchlike. But it is even more important to establish what they offered in addition to these other groups. In the case of Athens, at some point in time people who worshipped together felt the need to organise themselves beyond the initial thiasoi of archaic times. As a result, they found additional names and organisational models which were flexible and customisable according to their needs. Furthermore, new influences evoked a re-assessment of the ritual tradition. The introduction of ‘new’ deities such as the Egyptian gods, for example, brought with it ‘new’ sacred actions: their worship involved rituals which required, say, the water of the Nile, the reading of hieroglyphic texts, and a prohibition on the wearing of woollen clothes. Other new influences were connected with the worship of more traditional deities such as Dionysus. His worshippers now included in their associations new rituals such as ‘mystic’ ones. Neither kind of novelty fitted with the options provided by the state and therefore required a new organisation. Bringing something new to an already established field, however, was best solved by not disturbing traditions or conservative minds. By using a terminology borrowed from another area that could be easily understood by everyone living in the polis, the foundations were laid for success. That a religious association might worship a deity in a way which differed from traditional ritual practices was, I believe, a main motivation in establishing such an association. This can perhaps be related to the fact that, aside from the earlier orgeones, not many inscriptions of religious associations mention local deities. No religious association was devoted, for example, to Athena Polias. To a certain extent, Athenian religious associations were related to and evolved from pre-existing institutions. These older structures provided a model for something new. In other words, the concept or at least the nomenclature of the Athenian orgeones was taken up by newly-established groups and customised for their own purposes. Furthermore, newly-founded religious associations used the common language of other institutions such as civic temples and associations. On the one hand this might have been the case because not much alternative material was available. On the other hand, people perhaps chose these models out of mere convenience. The reasons for the use of these models and the way in which they were used, however, are not as simple and necessarily as one-sided as is often argued, namely driven by prestigious, political or convivial motivation.25 Rather the adoption of these models might be seen as creative and varied and certainly reflects the new awareness of choice. Using a pre-existing terminology and administrative structure in order to create a new social form, namely a religious association, proved over time to be very successful. It can be seen as a means of communication tacitly agreed upon by citizens and metics and Greeks and non-Greeks.

25

Arnaoutoglou, Ismard and Jones come to similar conclusions.

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The wish of non-citizens to establish a legal basis for a religious cult in the new environment can be traced in the Athenian records to the fourth century BCE26, and is independent from the establishment of religious associations. These queries about setting up a temple for a deity that was not yet worshipped in Athens were quite specific and aimed at particular deities; people did not try to introduce ‘their’ god under the name of another or with another god’s features: Bendis was introduced as Bendis with her very own cult as opposed to, say, Artemis-Bendis. The request of the Egyptians was clearly stated as a temple for Isis and not Demeter, even though Herodotus had suggested their equation long before. Making these equations in literature and iconography seems to have been a way of explaining the unknown rather than replacing it. What we learn from these examples, however, is that from the Classical period onwards the wish to introduce a new deity and its ritual was common in Athens. Their establishment was most easily facilitated by religious associations, of citizens and metics, women, slaves, non-Greeks and Greeks alike, who supported the elected cult in the form of an association. 6.2 DELOS Alongside Athens, only a few places remain which allow a similarly detailed insight into pre-existing religious structures. Closest to Athens in terms of its administration and inhabitation is Delos, owing to its long periods of Athenian domination beginning with the occupation of the sanctuary of Apollo. 6.2.1 The development of religious associations Little is known about the constitution of the city of Delos in the Hellenistic period. In fact, no ancient source gives a thorough account of it. However the epigraphic evidence shows that, just as in Athens, the male citizens were divided into groups, in the Delian case into four phylai that were each divided into three trittyes and phratries. The Delians possessed an ekklesiasterion and a boule. Their magistrates, whether in charge of legal, political or sacred issues, appear to have been similar to the Athenian magistrates, which is reflected in the designation of the offices. This similarity is certainly owing to the fact that during the time of the Athenian occupation the official sacred roles were fulfilled by Athenian officers. The sanctuaries were in Athenian hands. Inventory lists were kept in the Athenian style or manner. However, the religious tradition on Delos is older than the Athenian occupation. Over the course of time Delos does not seem to have developed specific groups or associations that were in charge of particular sacred duties, such as was the case of the orgeones in Athens, or associations that simply worshipped the same deity in an exclusive group. This was probably because Delos was smaller in size when 26

The request of the Egyptians concerning their right to build a temple to Isis just as the Syrians had done before, and the case of the Thracians who introduced Bendis, are probably the most famous examples.

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compared to Athens. Furthermore, its heyday as an important city and a commercial centre, again compared to Athens, arose very suddenly and was of short duration. It was characterised by immigration and occurred much later than in Athens, whose important political developments took place during the Classical period. The rather artificial political division into subgroups which was applied on Delos according to the Athenian system, had no effect on the ‘private’ group-building habit of the Delians. The earliest religious associations on Delos were at the beginning only small groups, visible in inscriptions in the third and second centuries BCE. Initially, these groups were established on a religious basis. But none of these early groups were especially influenced by particular Athenian religious associations such as the orgeones. Over the course of time, however, the Athenian occupation clearly had an effect on the religious associations of Delos. In fact, the associations’ appearance changed significantly during the second Athenian domination, around 166 BCE. Now, their diversity, at least concerning their naming practice, decreased remarkably. For example, only two of the initial six religious associations that had worshipped the Egyptian deities were found after 166 BCE, namely the melanephoroi and the therapeutai. Yet these two groups were represented in a much larger number of inscriptions by the time of the Athenian occupation. Another effect was that now more Athenians became involved in the associations, both as members and officials. 6.2.2 The chronology of the Delian associations Compared to Athens, the evidence suggests increasing numbers of religious associations on Delos arising slightly later, namely at the end of the third and the beginning of the second centuries BCE. Whereas the Athenian orgeones can be traced from the second half of the fourth century BCE, the earliest evidence from Delos dates to the end of the third century BCE. Within this Delian development, the earliest religious associations, namely those that worshipped the Egyptian and Syrian deities, seem to have influenced the initial form of all associations on the island that were established in the following century. They were followed by associations founded on the basis of common occupation, which were mainly established in the first century BCE. These ‘professional’ associations became well-established institutions in their own right. They were run by rich merchants and bankers who erected assembly-rooms for themselves in the very centre of the commercial city. Furthermore, they tried to be actively involved in the island’s politics.27 In contrast, the religious associations stayed close to or even in the precincts of the sanctuaries and the residential areas.

27

On the cult of the Athenian Demos and the goddess Roma within the precinct of the poseidoniastai of Berytos and their involvement in the daily politics of the island, see Chapter 3, pp. 65–66.

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6.2.3 Terminology and nomenclature The terminology used in inscriptions by religious associations on Delos to describe officials and certain honorary procedures is similar to Athenian practice. Some more specific terms were borrowed from the Athenian or perhaps general Greek linguistic corpus, such as the grammateus and archithiasitos.28 But the variety of terms used to describe religious associations on Delos exceeds the Athenian evidence. The nomenclature ranged from rather general terms such as koinon, synodos29 or thiasos,30 to very specific ones such as melanephoroi or enatistai,31 which have very few counterparts in the Greek world. In addition, the term therapeutai was quite frequently applied to a variety of religious associations. It is found mostly in the evidence for associations of the Egyptian and Syrian deities. In Athens therapeutai appear in connection with Asklepios. 6.2.4 Conclusion religious associations on Delos and in Athens The fact that only a little is known about the actual structure of religious associations on Delos, which are otherwise fairly well represented in the epigraphic evidence, makes it difficult to undertake a detailed comparison with Athens. However, some interesting general observations can be made. The epigraphic evidence from Delos shows that there was a different emphasis here on the public appearance of the associations and its members. They were not so much concerned with rules and regulations as their Athenian counterparts. This might be because unlike Athens, the city of Delos did not look back on a long and fairly stable political tradition in which rules and regulations played an important part in maintaining control. Perhaps the Delian associations, especially in the early stages, did not need to justify their existence as much as the Athenian associations. Furthermore, they did not need to position themselves in society because the society itself was only just emerging at the same time as the associations in the mushrooming city of the late third and second century BCE. Another essential point concerns the number and composition of the members of religious associations. The number of people involved in the groups changed with the Athenian occupation and the restructuring of the religious associations after the occupation, rather than contemporaneously with the Athenian chronology of the emergence of religious associations.32 That is to say, the Delian groups appear 28 29 30 31 32

An archithiasitos of the enatistai is mentioned for example in RICIS 202/0140, ll. 14–15, and RICIS 202/0140, l. 2. The grammateus of the same group appears in RICIS 202/0140 ll. 24–25. A synodos of therapeutai names an eponymous epimeletes at the end of the 3rd-beginning of the 2nd c. BCE, RICIS 202/0115–6. For koinon and thiasos see e. g. RICIS 202/0135, first half 2nd c. BCE. For the melanephoroi see e. g. RICIS 202/0135. For the enatistai see RICIS 202/0140–41, before 166 BCE. The increase in the number of members is illustrated by long lists of names which can presumably be related to the therapeutai. They only appear in the 1st c. BCE. In the preceding century, there are rather short lists of members of various religious associations. Furthermore, it is

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later, namely only at the end of the third century BCE, as opposed to the associations in Athens, which appeared at the end of the fourth century BCE. What, then, was the relationship between the newly-appeared religious associations on Delos and the civic institutions? A direct link between the pre-existing civic structures and the religious associations on Delos does not exist. On Delos the terminology used by religious associations to describe themselves in inscriptions before the Athenian occupation in 166 BCE either 1) refers to the origin of the deity (enatistai, dekadistai, serapiastai) or 2) is rather general Greek terminology (thiasos, koinon, synodos), or 3) was perhaps customised locally (melanephoroi). This last point seems to describe the situation on Delos best, namely a locally grown landscape of religious associations which is characterised by diversity. Similar to Athens, hardly any religious associations were devoted to a local or ‘traditional’ Greek deity. In fact, only one inscription, found on Mykonos, suggests that a group of worshippers had established a religious association in form of a thiasos to worship Dionysus.33 Religious associations on Delos were first and foremost an amalgamation of elements brought to the island by metics, rather than the adoption of general Greek habits. Only subsequently were novel associations such as the melanephoroi founded. Some of these newer associations, including the melanephoroi, were rather successful over a long period of time. None of the associations, as far as the evidence suggests, relied on pre-existing Delian structures. 6.3 RHODES Hellenistic Rhodes has a rich epigraphic documentation of religious associations but hardly any archaeological evidence at all. In the period from the third century BCE until the second century most of the evidence by which these groups are known is epigraphic. The evidence suggests that the heyday of religious associations on Rhodes was in the second and first centuries BCE. At the same time, the evidence is characterised by a scarcity of information concerning the activities and structures of individual religious associations. The majority of associations on Rhodes only appear once in an inscription. They often only contain the name of the association, proving their existence at a certain point in time and not much more. For that reason, only a few examples are consulted in this section. Some of these, however, are very detailed and unique in their contents. These few examples give a very good insight into certain aspects of the particular world of associations on Rhodes.

33

striking that the variety of small groups disappears under Athenian rule and was replaced by a rather unilateral organisation in the form of large groups of therapeutai and occasionally melanephoroi. ID 1522, early 2nd c. BCE.

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6.3.1 The Rhodian political institutions and religious associations The political situation on Rhodes differed from both the Athenian and the Delian situation. At the end of the fifth century and about 150 years before the heyday of religious associations on the island, the autonomous cities of Rhodes, Kamiros and Lindos underwent a process of synoecism to form the Rhodian state. They were then reorganised and sub-divided into three phylai, which again were split into an unknown number of demes.34 And whereas the phylai were divided according to territorial criteria, one cannot say for sure which criteria applied to the further sub-divisions.35 On Rhodes, many associations labelled themselves similarly to the Athenian associations. They appear as eranoi-groups or eranistai, as koina, or as groups with the name of each chosen deity ending in –stai (e. g. serapiastai) or a local specification (e. g. samothrakistai). But unlike some of the Athenian associations which used an all-Athenian term to describe themselves, namely the orgeones, and unlike the Delian groups which at least initially appear to have used names that clearly referred to one particular deity and/or one particular aspect of the cult of a deity, such as for instance the dekatistai and melanephoroi, no such specifications can be discerned on Rhodes. The Rhodian religious associations appear with names such as dionysiastai, serapiastai and isiastai, which are also used by religious associations in other places in Greece. 6.3.2 The particular world of Rhodian associations The Rhodian evidence is characterised by two major differences to Delos and Athens. Firstly, and unlike the early Delian and Athenian associations, the majority of the Rhodian associations had a strong economic side. They were mostly established by merchants, often from abroad, who decided to stay in Rhodes at least long enough to join or found an association. This habit was established on Delos only later, after religious associations had been in place for some time. What is more, Rhodian groups were shaped by the city’s military importance as a large naval base. Many groups were founded by a naval commander. Secondly, one can discern another local variation, namely that many associations were founded by and/or established around one particular person. This in itself is not unique: religious associations in Athens and on Delos were also often founded by one person. The difference, however, lies in the focus of the associations. Non-Rhodian associations were concerned with their appearance in public as well as the deity that was the subject of worship. In contrast, the Rhodian associations give the impression that they were all about the actual founder, his family and friends who were competing against each other, rather than participating, say, in civic processions. The dependence on a particular person was created by naming the association after a founder and/or ben34 35

Jones, Nicholas F. 1987. Public Organizations in Ancient Greece: a Documentary Study, Philadelphia, p. 243. Jones 1987, pp. 246–248.

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efactor, which was a widespread habit in Rhodes. In doing so, the groups underlined the importance of the founder and benefactor. At the same time they also created an affiliation of group and founder/benefactor that might become extinct with a person’s death and may indicate a rather short-lived character for certain groups. This is well illustrated by the example of Nikasion, the founder of a religious association that will be introduced later on in this chapter. Despite the particular character of the Rhodian evidence and the scarcity of archaeological evidence, the differences between religious and professional associations are clear. Among the many specialised associations there are sabaziastai, serapiastai, isiastai and dionysiastai. However, in most cases the rituals and internal foci of these religious associations must remain obscure, since the inscriptions only reveal the names of these groups, and then often alongside those of other associations. 6.3.3 Rhodian associations, imitations of the state? The case of Nikasion The most recent scholarly work on associations on Rhodes is based on or around the idea that the associations on Rhodes were copies of the local political system. Accordingly, the “koina were faithful imitations of the polis” and “they offered an opportunity for people who were excluded from the political community”.36 This political-constitutional structure of the groups was apparently maintained by the local elites and the military as well as the naval subdivisions which appear in the associations’ names.37 Furthermore, it has been argued that these associations served foreigners as “useful substitutes for the basic organisations they had left behind them – such as family, deme or tribe.”38 Hence, the new groups were based on friendships between people of differing social status and were “negotiated and defined through feasting, commensality, the punctilious observance of rites and the provision of mutual assistance.”39 These theories are mainly based on just a few inscriptions which contain more detailed information about the organisation of associations on the island. One of these inscriptions from the first century BCE shows that religious associations were indeed sometimes constructed upon the local, pre-existing structure of the city of Rhodes.

36 37 38 39

Gabrielsen 2001, p. 217. Gabrielsen 2001, pp. 221–223. Gabrielsen 2001, p. 217. He finally links the explanation of the phenomenon to the famous Aristotelian quote from the Nicomachean Ethics (Arist. Eth. Nic. 1160a, 20–22) namely that thiasotai and eranistai were formed to perform a common sacrifice and for social intercourse. Accordingly, the vast growth of the groups in Hellenistic times is linked to the decline of the democratic polis and the change in the status of citizenship. Gabrielsen 2001, p. 217.

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The ‘Asklapiastai Nikasioneioi Olympiastai’ The association of the ‘Asklapiastai Nikasioneioi Olympiastai’ was named after its founder, Nikasion from Kyzikos and his wife Olympeis.40 Nikasion, who involved his whole family in the activities of the association, arranged the membership according to the Rhodian three-phylai system with slight adaptations: each phyle was named after a member of his family including himself, and headed by a phylarchos and grammateus.41 The three phylai, would compete against each other in agonistic games, similarly to the games held by the three Rhodian phylai, Ialysia, Kameiris and Lindia.42 Nikasion’s group was not only a strong social network for non-Rhodians,43 Rhodians and those in between, but it was also a group of business-partners, since they commonly owned several vineyards.44 However, whether the group sur40 41

42

43

44

LGPN vol. I, s.v. Nikasion no. 14 and his wife vol. I, s.v. Olympeis no. 22. IG XII 1 127: face A. col. a:1ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέ[τα]/Σατύρου Ἐφεσίου/ ὧι ἁ ἐπιδαμία δέδοται/ ἐνίκει/ 5 φυλὰ Νικασιωνηῒς/φύλαρχος/ Ζηνόδοτος Σατύρου/ Ἐφέσιος/ υμνασίαρχος/ 10 Δαμάτριος Δαματρίου/ Ῥόδιος./ ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέτα/ Μητροδώρου Τηνίου/ἐνίκει/ 15 φυλὰ Νικασιωνηῒς/ φύλαρχος/ Δωρίων Ἀντιοχεὺς/ γυμνασίαρχος/ Ποσειδώνιος Ποσεδωνίου/ 20 Ῥόδιος./ ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέτα/ Ἀπολλωνίδα Λυσιμαχέως/ ἐνίκει φυλὰ Νικασιωνηῒς/ 25 φύλαρχος/ Δίων Φρὺξ/ γυμνασίαρχος/ [․․]ρος Ἀν[τι]οχεύς./ [ἐπὶ ἀ] γωνοθέτ[α — —] col. b: 30 ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέτα/ Ἀγαθάνορος Φασηλίτ[α]/ ἐνίκει φυλὰ/ Νικασιωνηῒς/ φύλαρχος/ 35 Ἀπολλώνιος Σελγε[ὺς]/ γυμνασίαρχος/ Ἀπολλώνιος Ἀμφιπολί[τας]./ ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέτα/ Φίλωνος Ἀλεξανδρέως/ 40 ἐνίκει φυλὰ Βασιληῒς/ φύλαρχος/ Σωτήριχος Ἀντιοχεὺς/ γυμνασίαρχος/ Κερα̣ίας Σολεύς./ 45 ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέτα/ Δρόμωνος Ἀντιοχέως/ ἐνίκει φυλὰ Ὀλυμπηῒς/ φύλαρχος/ Γόργων Κνίδιος/ 50 γυμνασίαρχος/ Ἀπολλωνίδας Ἀντιοχεύς./ ἐπὶ ἀγωνοθέτα/ Ἕρμωνος Ἀντιοχέως/ ἐνίκει φυλὰ Βασιληῒς/ 55 φύλαρχος/ [Φίλων(?)] Ἰ̣λ̣ι̣ε̣ὺς/ [γυμνασίαρχος]/ [— — —]. face B. col. 56a: [εὐερ]γ̣έται κα̣ὶ/ 57 [εὐεργ]έτιδες τοῦ [κοινοῦ]/ [Νι]κασίων Κυζικηνὸς ὧι̣ [ἁ]/ [ἐπιδαμία] δέδοται κτίστας τοῦ κοιν[οῦ]/ 60 [Ὀλυ]μ̣πιὰς Σολὶς/ [Νικα]σ̣ί̣ων Νικασίων[ος]/ Ῥόδιος/ Βασιλὶς Δημητρίου/ Δημήτριος Νικασίωνος Ῥόδιο[ς]/ 65 Δημήτριος βʹ Ῥόδιος/ Ἑρμοκρέων Θαλιάρχου Ῥόδιο[ς]/ Θέων Ἀντιοχεὺς/ ὧι ἁ ἐπιδαμία δέδοται/ Εἰρήνα̣ Σολὶς/ 70 Εὔκλειτος Δαμαινέτου Ῥόδιος/ Ἀριστοκράτης Ἀριστοφάνευ̣[ς]/ Ῥόδιος/ Σάτυρος Ἐφέσιος ὧι ἁ/ ἐπιδαμία δέδοται/ 75 Ζηνόδοτος Σατύρου Ἐφέσιο[ς]/ Νέστωρ Ἑρμιονεὺ[ς]/ Ἑρμίας Συμβρεὺ[ς]/ Ἀχίας Χῖος/ Ὀλυμπιὰς Νικασίων[ος]/ 80 Νικασίων Ἀρχία κα[ὶ]/ Καλλίστρατος Ἀρχ[ία]/ Διογένης Ἀρχία/ Δαμάτριος [βʹ Ῥόδιος]/ Ἀγαθοκλῆς Σολεὺς/ 85 Βάθιππος Ἀλεξ[ανδ]ρεὺ[ς]/ Μένανδρος Κρ[ατ] ίνου/ Ῥόδιος/ Ἰφιάδας Μικίωνος/ Ῥόδιος/ 90 [․․․․․]․․․․[․]ος Ἀντιοχεύ[ς]. For a thorough discussion of this association see Maillot, Stéphanie 2012, La formalisation des réseaux de mobilité méditerranéens. Remarques sur les associations à l’époque hellénistique, in: Laurent Capdetrey/Julien Zurbach (edd.), Mobilités grecques : Mouvements, réseaux, contacts en Méditerranée, de l’époque archaïque à l’époque hellénistique, Bordeaux 2012, p. 235–260. Among the 43 members of the association were metics from other cities in Asia Minor as well as Antioch and Alexandria. The 10 Rhodian members perhaps gained their citizenship because they were sculptors and therefore useful for the Rhodians. The connection between this group and the metic sculptors was made initially by Larfeld, Wilhelm 1892. Jahresbericht über die griechische Epigraphik für 1883–1887 II, Rhodus, in: Jahresbericht über die Fortschritte der classischen Alterthumswissenschaft 36, Berlin, p. 2 and later developed by Gabrielsen 2009 and Maillot 2012, p. 244. Pugliese Caratelli 1939–40, p. 150, no. 5; Gabrielsen 2001, p. 232.

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vived the death of its founder and his wife for longer than, say, the next generation is doubtful. 45 Since this inscription is an outstanding example, it is difficult to draw general conclusions. When looking at other inscriptions of religious associations with a clear focus on their religious content, at least according to their name, one cannot find any allusions towards any political institutions. Whether the asklepiastai of Nikasion are an example that illustrates the variety of associations on Rhodes, or whether his group was an exception, cannot be decided, since hardly any inscriptions provide as many details as this one. But we learn one important thing about its founder: Nikasion of Kyzikos took the opportunity to show that he understood and perhaps even liked the political system of Rhodes. He adopted the administrative terms and structure, even if he applied them in a different way, thereby suiting his personal ideas. Furthermore, the use of Rhodian civic terminology and administrative structure gave him the basis for communicating the hierarchy he wanted to establish among the members that consisted of both citizens and non-citizens. How far the group was concerned with Asklepios is unclear, since there is no mention of any religious interest or ritual in the epigraphic evidence. 6.3.4 Conclusion: religious associations on Rhodes Certain religious associations meticulously applied the language and general organisational model provided by the constitutional structures of the Rhodian state to create their own associations. For the majority of associations, however, one cannot say how they were structured and to what extent they were modelled on pre-existing structures. For Rhodes, it seems that no older forms of religious associations or names were re-applied to new establishments. The terms sabaziastai, serapiastai, isiastai and dionysiastai were in general use in Greece and Asia Minor during the Hellenistic and Roman era; it is difficult to analyse their structure and local variations on Rhodes, since they are almost exclusively recorded by their names only. As a result, one can hardly draw connections between these groups and particular people. Yet, there are a few exceptions, such as the case of Ariston of Syracuse who was honoured by a group of sabaziastai,46 or, similarly, the case of Dionysodoros of Alexandria:47 Dionysodoros was involved in various groups. One of them was of a local, Rhodian character namely the haliadai and haliastai, one, the paianistai, was 45

46 47

Gabrielsen 2008 argues differently. In his opinion the associations were rather similar: he claims that all groups were organised “with long-term perspective in mind”. Also, “all associations, for instance, had equipped themselves with a ‘constitution’, ʻnomoiʼ and ʻa civic bureaucracy’, p. 182. The title of his article already suggests his view on women in associations, namely that there were none (although he suggested women as members earlier, see Gabrielsen 1997, p. 123). Yet, certain groups such as religious ones and those organised around the household certainly included women, a fact most recently emphasized by Faraone, Christopher 2009. Household Religion in Ancient Greece, in: John Bodel/Saul Olyan (edd.) Household and Family Religion in Antiquity, Oxford, pp. 210–228 esp. 223. Chapter 4.3, pp. 99–100. Chapter 4.3, p. 100.

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an eranistai-group, and one was of a merely religious character, namely the dionysiastai.48 Dionysodoros consciously chose to be part of each of these groups presumably because they provided him with different contents. When it comes to the interpretation of the associations on Rhodes I believe that religious associations were founded and maintained by people of various social status who were interested in common worship of a particular deity rather than political issues. Vincent Gabrielsen, has argued that the Rhodian associations were in the hands of those people who “ran the state”, the local aristocracy, who were mainly involved in the “Rhodian fenomeno associativo”.49 He also argues that there was an atmosphere of competition among the many associations.50 Surely this assumption is only partly true, in that it is most applicable at a more personal level: it describes a natural condition among individuals that stretches out into the religious sphere.51 The case of Dionysodoros has illustrated that multiple membership was desirable.52 Surely he chose each association for a particular reason. Furthermore, Gabrielsen argues that all groups were only brought together for professional reasons by the local aristocracy.53 Accordingly, religious associations should – in theory – not exist. I believe however that the people from Rhodes founded and maintained religious associations such as sabaziastai, isisastai and serapiastai, just as they did in Athens and Delos, as an addition to the religion provided by the state, without necessarily political intentions. How much the aristocracy was actually involved in these foundations, especially of religious associations, must be challenged.54 The fact that we know nothing about their rituals and religious foci is not surprising, since hardly any information of this sort is ever revealed in inscriptions. Rhodes in comparison Delos and Rhodes both had in common that they once were important economic centres for the trade from East to West in the Mediterranean in Hellenistic times. Accordingly, both cities attracted similar people. However, chronological differences between the two places occur, especially after the first century BCE, when the 48 49 50 51 52

53 54

A similar case is known from Camiros RICIS 204/0216. Gabrielsen 2001, p. 226. It seems as if people sought not only to found associations or appear as benefactors in the epigraphic evidence, but to be involved in as many associations as possible, see examples in Gabrielsen 2001, p. 227. Van Nuffelen, Peter 2014. Religion and competition in Antiquity – an introduction, in: David Engels/Peter Van Nuffelen (edd.) Religion and Competition in Antiquity, Brussels, pp. 9–44, esp. p. 8. Similar cases are well-known from Delos, see pp. 55–57 and Teos, where Athenodotos, son of Metrodoros is president of the samothrakistai, the orgeones, the ‘mysts’ and the ‘magistrats’, see Boulay, Thibaut 2013. Les groups de reference au sein du corps civique de Téos, in: Pierre Fröhlich/Patrice Hamon (edd.) Groupes et associations dans les cités grecques (IIIe siècle av. J.-C.-IIe siècle apr. J. C.) Geneva, pp. 251–275, no. 12, pp. 269–271. Gabrielsen 1997, p. 123, points out that women and men both free and not free, foreigners and citizens could become members. Similarly, Maillot 2013, p. 206.

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activity of the Rhodian religious associations flourished, whereas no such activities can be discerned on Delos after 88 BCE. But regardless of their common features, the development of associations was clearly different on each island. Delos ‘produced’ in the first instance various, initially small, religious associations, dedicated to a few deities. These were often linked to sanctuaries. Professional associations were established later on. These professional associations were, according to the archaeological evidence, comparatively large. In contrast, many of the Rhodian groups look like small private gatherings that were occasionally involved in one cult or another but were mainly concerned with the issues of their founder and members. Moreover, whereas the Egyptians, Syrians and perhaps even the Jews on Delos were mostly concerned with establishing their deities with both an association and a sanctuary, the immigrants on Rhodes, it seems, were mainly occupied with their businesses.55 Similar to the situation on Delos, these Rhodian associations were not directly linked with pre-existing civic associations. They mushroomed in Rhodes in the second and first centuries BCE, and were not part of a longer-standing process and a series of developments as in Athens. Some Rhodian religious associations were devoted to the worship of the patron deity of the city, which stands in contrast to the situation in Athens and Delos. For example, Athena appears as patron deity for many associations in Lindos. These associations, however, appear only in the second and first centuries BCE and it seems as if they did not derive from a traditional habit, but were established contemporaneously with most other groups.56 Excursus Cos Cos, lying not far to the north-west of Rhodes, has a considerable number of inscriptions which bear investigation. The epigraphic evidence for religious associations is similarly dense to that of Rhodes. We have already seen some of the horos-inscriptions and some unique associations devoted to the Egyptian deities on Cos in the preceding chapters. In addition to that, Stéphanie Maillot in the most recent study of the island’s associations counted forty-three inscriptions that name a deity in their title.57 The inscriptions show general similarities to the Rhodian evidence, such as the fact that many associations were founded by a single person, often a naval commander, and that the associations had equally long names including both deities and people.58 Again, as with Rhodes, in most cases the evidence denies us crucial information, such as why a particular person founded an association, who exactly that person was, and who the members were, let alone information about their social origin. Other important similarities between the associations on Cos and those on Rhodes concern the time-period and the choice of the deity. The evidence reveals religious associations on Cos from the second century BCE to Imperial times, and the 55 56 57 58

See examples of foreigners forming groups on Rhodes in Gabrielsen 2001, pp. 232–236. See e. g. IG XII 1 36 159 and 161, all 1st c. BCE. Maillot 2013, p. 202. Maillot 2013, p. 206.

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local sanctuary of Aphrodite drew many worshippers who were organised in associations,59 as the worshippers of Athena Lindia were on Rhodes. Some associations on Cos worshipped deities innate to Rhodes, such as Athena Lindia.60 The Egyptian deities were the most popular among the gods worshipped in associations on Cos, a phenomenon attested throughout the Helllenistic Aegean world. However, on Cos, these associations were unique in their naming practice.61 This again shows not only how versatile religious associations were, but also how individual and specific they were in each place. 6.4 CONCLUSION RELIGIOUS ASSOCIATIONS AND CIVIC INSTITUTIONS There are significant differences between the situations in Athens, Delos and Rhodes. Only in Athens can one draw a direct connection between pre-existing constitutional structures and religious associations as represented by the orgeones. Over time, however, and more precisely in the second century BCE, the concept of the orgeones in Athens changed. Now, it was transferred to associations devoted to other deities and customised according to their own ideas, as for example by the orgeones of the Mother of the Gods in Piraeus. On the other hand, neither the Delian nor the Rhodian religious associations can be linked directly to specific pre-existing civic or social groups. Indeed, whereas some of the Delian religious associations appear to have been established in the first instance according to each deity’s origin, as for example the dekatistai and enatistai, or on a completely new basis, such as the melanephoroi, the names of the Rhodian religious associations indicate no such specification. Rather, it seems as if religious associations on Rhodes were established at the same time as military or professional associations. Furthermore, religious associations on Rhodes often used common names that are attested all over Greece and Asia Minor. With the exception of associations worshipping Athena Lindia, the Rhodian religious associations lacked specifically Rhodian characteristics. Religious associations developed differently on Delos, where none appear before the end of the third century BCE. They seem to have been a new concept on the island when they were first established in the third and second centuries BCE. Their creation, however, was not dependent on pre-existing political or cultic structures, but rather on traditions and habits that were brought to the island by immigrants. Furthermore, the island apparently offered an atmosphere within which rather unusual names and forms of groups were created, at least until the time of the Athenian occupation. A different picture can be drawn for Athens itself. Here, groups of worshippers of specific deities had a long-standing tradition. The concept of religious associations certainly developed strongly from the initial orgeones of the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. While they were based on pre-existing models, they were 59 60 61

9 inscriptions mention aphrodisiastai, Maillot nos. 9, 22, 24, 34, 35, 45, pp. 222–224. ICosEV 223, 2nd c. BCE. For the rare osiriastai, the unique synanoubiastai and hierodouloi of Isis see Chapter 4.2.

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later customised and shaped according to general contemporary trends and the needs of each particular association. Athens, Delos, Rhodes. The similarities The main similarities in all three places are, it seems, threefold. They lie firstly in the use of a related language when it comes to the naming of administrative and cultic staff. This is almost certainly due to the fact that all three places are situated in the Greek-speaking world which by now was very well connected. Secondly, one can discern in all three places a religious aspect to establishing these groups. This religious aspect cannot be explained away by proposing social or economic reasons, as suggested repeatedly in earlier research. The third similarity concerns the nature of the epigraphic evidence. If one looks at the inscriptions on their own, one will find that they hardly ever reveal much about the individual association. Still, they indicate quite clearly that no association was like another, or at least that they claimed a sense of otherness for themselves. That is to say that even if groups look to us as if they were very similar, it clearly mattered to the members which group they belonged to. And yet it seems as if the founders and staff of religious associations often only engraved such information in stone that was comprehensible to a broader audience rather than for the individual members of each associations. This leads to the view that many groups were rather similar: koina could be found in Athens, Delos and Rhodes alike. The same is true for groups of serapiastai. However, I believe that this alleged similarity only served practical purposes. It achieved a common understanding and paved the way for communication between the members and the staff of the association, immigrants and locals, the polis and the religious associations. However, it does not, in any way relate to a particular character of an association. It merely indicates a successful religious association that was part of the polis.

7. CONCLUSION The aim of this book was to investigate the origins, spread and social realities of religious associations with a specific focus on the archaeology and epigraphy of the Greek cities of the Aegean world. Religious associations served as a means of creating and establishing an individual religious identity in a way that had not existed before. They constituted a concept suitable for both the individual person and the polis they lived in. I investigated religious associations in Greece and Asia Minor from the end of the fourth century BCE until the second century CE. I focussed particularly on religious associations of ‘new’ deities, such as Isis and Serapis, Bendis, the Syrian deities and the Jewish god. At the same time I included associations worshipping Dionysus, the most popular of the more ‘traditional’ deities to be worshipped in the form of religious associations. Owing to a lack of archaeological and epigraphic evidence in this particular period, I excluded Christian religious associations from this study. Finally, I focussed on particular cities, namely Athens, Delos and Rhodes, which provide us with the most extensive archaeological and/or epigraphic evidence. In my introduction I set out to argue that among the worshipping associations of both ‘new’ and more ‘traditional’ deities one would expect to find diversity as a main characteristic, even if the nomenclature of many associations might suggest similarity. Throughout the book I argued that, firstly, the individual character of religious associations depended as much on the pre-existing structures of the new environment as it did on the character of the deity, the people involved, and the introduction of unknown, untypical, or new rituals. These ‘novel’ and individual elements are exactly the unique selling points that made religious associations so attractive and popular, rather than a general idea common to all groups, such as argued by Cumont for the ‘Oriental’ deities and their mysteries. Secondly, religious associations helped to establish cults of ‘new’ deities in their new environments. I argued in Chapters 2, 3, and 6 that this was achieved chiefly in two ways: a) by using the pre-existing terminology, and b) by introducing new rituals and creating new spaces of worship that soon became attractive to citizens and non-citizens alike. The third hypothesis concerned the fact that religious associations worshipping ‘new’ deities looked very much like most other religious associations in the epigraphic record. The people in charge of these associations made no use of their potential for exoticism or otherness to attract (local) members, as is often the case for ‘new’ deities in the West. This, I argued, was due to the fact that the people who founded religious associations of ‘new’ deities in the Aegean tried to signal openness to their new environment. They tried to create similarity to the existing forms of associations by using the most common and sometimes even oldest available terms. Only the choice of the deity and the ritual that came with it, which sometimes

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included elements from the country of origin such as the kline of Serapis, the use of ‘Nile’-water, and the reading of hieroglyphs, functioned equally as a magnet to attract local people and foreigners alike. In Chapter 2 I argued that religious associations were an essential part of Athenian religious life from the fourth century BCE until the second century CE. But whereas the groups of Classical Athens were initially formed by Athenian citizens, often under the term orgeones, the religious associations of the Hellenistic period were equally founded by metics, including non-Greeks. The concept of orgeones – and the use of the term – proved to be very successful. It was adopted and adapted by religious associations and remained in use until as late as the third century CE. Other terms such as thiasos, koinon and synodos were also used by religious associations, but each of them just for a certain period in time. Furthermore I argued that the focus of religious associations’ internal activicties in Athens changed over time from emphasising ritualistic elements to greater sociability. The orgeones of Amynos, Dexion and Asklepios met annually in their own precinct and were very much concerned with their annual feast. Equally, the orgeones of Bendis focussed on their annual pompe through the city. The iobakkhoi of the second century CE, however, who owned a precinct in the very centre of the city, met at least once a month without focusing on one specific cultic feast. In brief, religious associations offered over time a fair mixture of sociability and religious rituals. Each association, however, no matter how similar they appeared in the epigraphic evidence, had its own individual features. Each was differently structured and focussed on different things. The few archaeological remains that we have allow us to assume that successful religious associations erected their own meeting places according to their own needs. They were located in the very centre of Athens from early Classical times onwards as well as in Piraeus during Hellenistic times. An accumulation of religious associations of ‘new’ deities in Piraeus is explained by the difference in circumstances. Piraeus was only established as Athens’ main harbour in the late Classical and early Hellenistic period. It was a fast-growing city, which attracted immigrants from all over the Mediterranean. Rather than trying to push for a place in the Athenian religious landscape, Piraeus had the space to accommodate both people and religious associations alike. The situation on Delos differed from that in Athens. For a start, it was characterised by rapid changes. The evidence suggests that religious associations were active from the end of the third century until 88 BCE. That is approximately a period of 120 years compared to 600 years of Athenian orgeones. Within these 120 years, Delos was under the control of various authorities but most prominently of Athens. In contrast to Athens, Delos provided much more evidence archaeologically and sometimes epigraphically, at least for the Egyptian deities. This is more likely owing to the outstanding conditions of preservation that Delos provided over millenia rather than as an actual indicator of the quantity of material. However, this fortunate situation helped to explain the complexity of Delian religious associations. Religious associations on Delos were characterised by the variety of the origins of the people who founded them and were independent of pre-existing struc-

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tures. Rituals performed by the associations and the names of each group were more varied than the evidence suggests for Athens. Worshippers from Egypt, Syria, Palestine and Arabia founded religious associations on Delos, especially during the period of independence, according to their own ideas. Some of the associations used names that were known from other places in Greece, others created new names which mainly occurred on Delos and only rarely anywhere else. The Athenian occupation had a visible impact on religious associations on Delos. After 166 BCE religious associations appear to be less varied. Yet the groups which survive were much larger than ever before. The archaeological evidence underlines the variety indicated by the epigraphic evidence. Worshippers from many different places erected sanctuaries and shrines to rather unknown gods: as many as thirteen sanctuaries dedicated to a variety of deities, many of which are either unidentified or appear only once in the Aegean, were found in a small area around the peak of Mt Kynthos. However, despite the fact that these sanctuaries offered dining facilities, I believe that they served families or small communities of worshippers rather than religious associations. One assembly-room of a religious association was identified by various scholars as a synagogue. The architecture of the place is very similar to the general architecture on Delos and lacks individual features, which leads me to suspect the attribution. However, some buildings that were used by religious associations reflect individuality and foreign influences. For example, the sanctuary of the Syrian deities, with the theatre and large number of dining rooms immediately attached to it, clearly resembled an architectural type mainly known in the Near East. The dining rooms themselves, however, represent a compromise between Greek and Oriental dining habits. Similarly, all three Serapeia provided water-crypts or Nilometers so that the worshipping community could perform rituals involving the ‘water of the Nile’. Only on Delos is it possible to get a reasonably full picture of the architecture of these structures. At present it is not possible to say whether this exotic architectural style was a local peculiarity or whether it was a more general phenomenon. Chapter 4 was devoted to the act of foundation, establishment and maintenance of religious associations. I argued that once we can identify religious associations in the epigraphic evidence, we must assume that we are dealing with an already successfully established association. That is to say that we have only very little evidence that permits us to draw conclusions about the actual act of foundation, let alone about the identity of individual founders. The first generation seems to be lost in most cases. From the second century BCE onwards, the epigraphic evidence suggests that mainly people with Greek names were involved in religious associations, whether dedicated to ‘new’ or more ‘traditional’ deities. Most of these people with Greek names were citizens of the host communities, only few were non-citizens. Moreover, some deities were more popular among religious associations, namely Dionysus and the Egyptian deities. This phenomenon can be explained by the introduction of ‘new’ deities, new rituals and different approaches to worship. Equally, the popularity of the serapiastai was at least partly conditioned by the spread of the Ptolemaic army.

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Popular religious associations were characterised by a similar nomenclature such as serapiastai and dionysiastai. They are attested all over the Aegean. However, the similarity in the name does not necessarily mean that these groups were the same in terms of structure and members. On the contrary, I argued that such groups varied from place to place and were often shaped by individual features or local peculiarities. In Chapter 5 I established that one of the important tasks of religious associations in the Hellenistic period was burial care for their members. Many religious associations offered space for a burial and sometimes even provided annual memorial care that seems to have taken place in a dining hall near the graveyards. Other assembly-rooms of religious associations included public sanctuaries, dining halls attached to public temples, places in nature and the public space of a city. Yet, I argued, a private dining hall or assembly-room was the location of choice. These assembly-rooms not only provided individually structured places to accommodate each group’s needs, but equally evoked a sense of exclusivity. Such assembly-places were often located in the centre of the city, either as a specially customised part of a normal house or as individually built premises. Yet, only a few actual assembly-rooms could be identified. Partly, this was due to the fact that the buildings had in most cases a rather non-specific architectural character, particularly in Athens and Rhodes. In Chapter 6 I suggested that the idea that one might understand religious associations as models of the political institutions of each polis needs to be revised. Sure enough, most religious associations used the pre-existing administrative terminology used by the authorities of the polis. And yes, in some cases they strikingly copied the organisational structures of civic institutions. However, I do not believe that they were actually trying to copy these institutions. Rather, they used this particular language to be able to communicate more easily. By using the local administrative language, immigrants were able to signal openness towards the new environment. As mentioned earlier, I also argued that religious associations were much more diverse than has sometimes been appreciated. This misconception is partly due to the character of the evidence: diversity has been masked by the adoption of a set of broadly similar epigraphic conventions. The archaeological evidence helps a great deal in identifying a diversity which is often invisible in the epigraphic evidence. The limits of the epigraphic material are at their starkest in places such as Rhodes, where hardly any archaeological structures were excavated so far. A comparison of the relationship between religious associations and the civic institutions of three poleis, namely Athens, Delos and Rhodes, revealed that only in Athens can one find religious associations that were derived immediately from an associative model that had been established earlier by the civic authorities. In this book, I believe, I made two major contributions to the field. The first contribution concerns the image of religious associations that is presented in most secondary literature, namely that they were part of a particular ‘phenomenon’, the so-called ‘fenomeno associativo’. I have argued, however, that religious associations were so diverse that it is odd to think of them as a classified subject. I am

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convinced that it did not occur to a person living in, say, Hellenistic Athens to think of them as a set. Only much later can one presume an awareness of such a ‘phenomenon’, perhaps in the second century CE, when writings such as Apuleius’ Metamorphoses were produced which suggest a different understanding of the matter. The second contribution concerns the religious association as a concept and this concepts’ popularity. The fundamental point seems to be that religious associations were very useful for a wide range of social enterprises over a long period of time, with various foci. The most common explanation for their success in modern scholarship is that they served as substitutes for a variety of gaps in a person’s life: “as social organisations they [religious associations] took up the slack between the individual and the state, providing fictive families for those uprooted from clan or family and fictive polities for those excluded from political power.”1 The political part is especially seen as an important source of attraction: “As a polis writ small, the collegium provided a social setting in which persons who normally could never aspire to participation in the cursus honorum of the city and state could give and receive honors, enjoy the ascribed status that came with being a quinquennalis or mater, have a feeling of control over at least the destiny of the collegium, and enjoy regular banquets.”2 Arnaoutoglou’s view is more varied in that he writes that: “The associative phenomenon is not fully explained by ‘euergetism’ alone, nor by the concept of ‘ritual conviviality, nor as an associative context for the foreigners.”3 Rather, “Associations were multi-functional units of people (…) in which each of the above mentioned features played a role (…) which rendered possible the slow, but smooth, integration into a new cultural context.”4 But he also argues that cult-associations were copying the mechanics of the polis as a way of creating their collective identity. He concludes that in the case of Athens free non-Athenians were most prominent in the membership lists of religious associations. He argues accordingly that cult-associations “provided a context of participation (or imagined participation) for the institutionally excluded element in the population”.5 I strongly doubt that people actually became part of a religious (or any other kind of) association because they gained satisfaction from mimicking offices that were part of civic institutions. Rather, these terms and offices embodied a particular sense of stability and perhaps even legality that was attractive to people, especially when coming into a new environment. Furthermore it seems, that people used these pre-existing structures to communicate with a broad range of people without attracting too much attention to the possible novelty of the association. The argument that commensality was a main motivation for the foundation of a religious association is similarly weak. Commensality was already available to people in many forms and is perhaps one of the most ancient of all human rituals. Commensality was part of every aspect of a person’s life, whether as a family, with friends or at the occasion of a sacrifice. It was clearly not necessary to be part of a 1 2 3 4 5

Kloppenborg/Wilson 1996, introduction p. 13. Kloppenborg 1996, pp. 26–27. Arnaoutoglou 2003, p. 155. Arnaoutoglou 2003, p. 155. Arnaoutoglou 2011, pp. 43–44.

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religious association in order to participate in say a banquet or a public procession in honour of a deity.6 The main reason for the popularity of religious associations in the Aegean in Hellenistic times is, I believe, that it enabled people to honour a particular deity of choice and to practise particular rituals. Worship was customised as one saw fit and a deity could be chosen from an immeasurable scope, rather than from a fixed set of options offered by the state. In other words, by founding a religious association, worshippers were able to practise ‘new’ religious rituals and to worship deities that were not part of the pre-existing religious landscape, and yet they avoided threatening the latter. From the viewpoint of the polis-authorities, religious associations provided a means of incorporating a range of different groups that could not be allocated to any of the pre-existing groups. In fact, religious associations were a mediating institution between the polis and the individual.

6

Commensality was perhaps one attractive aspect of religious associations similar to burial care, in that it would normally be provided by the family, but there was a substantial group of people to whom this was unavailable, especially those who had moved abroad.

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APPENDIX I

A) Roman numerals indicate the centuries BCE, Arabic numerals the centuries CE (Hedrick 1999)

B) Comparative epigraphic material from Athens in this book (numbers indicate the actual number of inscriptions)

176

Appendix I

C) The west slope of the Acropolis of Athens with Iobakkheion and Amyneion (Judeich 1905)

D) The Amyneion, Athens (Dörpfeld 1985)

Appendix

E) The Iobakkheion in Athens (after Dörpfeld 1894)

F) The Serapeion A on Delos (McLean 1996)

177

178

Appendix

G) The Serapeion B on Delos (Roussel 1915/16)

H) The Serapeion C on Delos (GD 2005)

Appendix

I)

The sanctuary of the Syrian deities on Delos (GD 2005)

J) The exedras in the sanctuary of the Syrian deities (Will/Schmid 1980)

179

180

Appendix

K) The sanctuaries on Mt Kynthos, Delos (GD 2005)

L) The sanctuary of the gods of Ascalon, Delos (Plassart 1928)

Appendix

M) Synagogue complex (McLean 1996)

N) The assembly-rooms of the poseidoniasts (McLean 1996)

181

182

Appendix

O) The sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, Corinth (Bookidis 1990)

P) The building with the ‘Podiensaal’ in Pergamum, construction phases 3 and 4 (Schwarzer 2008)

Appendix

Q) The building with the ‘Podiensaal’ in Pergamum, construction phase 5 (Schwarzer 2008)

183

APPENDIX II The Jews in the Diaspora Most information about the formation of the early Jewish Diaspora communities comes from literary and epigraphic evidence. The ʻinternalʼ Jewish texts which appear from the first century BCE onwards and which comprise the main corpus of information on the early Jewish Diaspora are of a rather ahistorical nature and need to be handled with care. Other authors, such as Philo of Alexandria and Flavius Josephus might provide more reliable information and are among the most fruitful sources. The literary evidence most quoted by scholars for information about the location of early Jewish Diaspora settlements are however the Acts of the Apostles and the letters to the Jews in the Diaspora in 2 Maccabees. The Pauline corpus contains perhaps the information that is chronologically closest to the period about the location of early Diasporas. According to these sources, the Jewish people migrated to almost every important place in the Hellenistic world, setting up synagogues as a “prime signal of Jewish existence” (Gabba 1989). The growth of Anti-Judaism or the Greek attitude towards the Jews, in: The Cambridge History of Judaism, Cambridge, pp. 614–656:623. Even though the Jewish people appear in Greek literature before the third century BCE, these early authors were more concerned with an ethnographic interest in wisdom and knowledge of the Jewish people rather than with their actual history. In Greek literature after the third century BCE, the treatment of Jewish history always correlates with Egypt and the conflicts between Jews and Egyptians in Egypt and specifically in Alexandria. The focus on this city was mainly due to the Greeks who dwelt in the city in the aftermath of Alexander’s war and their local rivalry with the Jews (Gabba 1989, pp. 630–635). In the time after the third century BCE Greek literates were no more concerned with the Jewish people and their simultaneously growing Diaspora than they had been before: from the second century BCE onwards Greek historiographers such as Polybius “had much more serious problems to handle”, so that “the Greeks carried on in complete ignorance of the Jews and their history” (Gabba 1989, p. 641). See also: Rajak, Tessa/Noy, David 1993. Archisynagogoi: Office, Title and social status in the Greco-Jewish synagogue, in: JRS 83, pp. 75–93 esp. 77. On the supposed Diasporan Historiography in general see Schwartz, Daniel R. 1999. From the Maccabees to Masada: On Diasporan Historiography of the Second Temple Period: Aharon Oppenheimer (ed.) Jüdische Geschichte der Hellenistisch-Römischen Zeit. Vom alten zum neuen Schürer, München, pp. 29–40. An excellent overview of the most important publications on the history of the Jews in anitiquity is provided in a bibliographical essay by Schwartz, Seth 2014. The Ancient Jews from Alexander to Muhammed, Cambridge, esp. pp. 156–159.

Appendix II

185

The Septuagint The ancient ʻhistoricalʼ explanation for the translation of the Septuagint is mentioned first in the letter of Aristeas. The story is set in Alexandria during the reign of King Ptolemy II Philadelphus (285–246 BCE). According to the author a certain Demetrius, librarian at the famous library at Alexandria, wished to possess an example of the Jewish bible in the Greek language since the king lacked a “complete library” (10–11). The king agreed and sent a letter to the Jewish High priest in Jerusalem in order to get a reliable original version of the text (35–40). The High priest granted permission and the ʻJewish lawsʼ were translated by 72 scholars (elders 47–50). A short overview of the account and the process of the translation is given by. Klijn, Albertus F. J. 1965. Review of R. V. G. Tasker ʻThe Greek New Testamentʼ New Testament Studies 11, pp. 184–185 and a more detailed version by Moshe, Simon-Shoshan 2007. The Tasks of the Translators: The Rabbis, the Septuagint, and the Cultural Politics of Translation, in: Prooftexts 27, pp. 1–39. The debate about the reliability of the story and questions about which parts of the story come closest to the actual events surrounding the translation and the particular influence of this Jewish scripture on the Jews in the Diaspora, the cooperation of the king, his possible intentions and attitude towards the Jews are still the subject of discussion see e. g.: Gruen, Erich S. 2008. The letter of Aristeas and the Cultural Context of the Septuagint, in: Martin Karrer/Wolfgang Kraus (edd.) Die Septuaginta – Texte, Kontexte, Lebenswelten (WUNT I 219) Tübingen, pp. 134–156, in the same volume see Rajak, Tessa 2009. Translating the Septuagint for Ptolemy’s library: Myth and history, pp. 176–193, and finally with a monograph Rajak, Tessa 2009. Translation and Survival: The Greek Bible of the Ancient Jewish Diaspora, Oxford/New York.

GENERAL INDEX Agora des Italiens 51, 59 Akte (Sanctuary of orgeones of the Mother of the Gods) 41–42, 48 Alexandria – Greeks 49, 83, 84, 87–88, 98 – Jews 184, 185 Ammon 36 (n. 59), 43 Androkleidai 65 Andron 95, 114, 127 Anoubiastai 79, 114 Antioch (persons of) 69, 83, 93–94, 96 Antiochos I. 80 Anubis 52, 53, 74, 79 Apollo – Apolloniastai 65 – Sanctuary of 24, 51, 54, 69 (n. 109), 133, 148 – Thiasos of 95 Apollodoros (Rhamnous) 77 (n. 21) Apollonios I (Delos) 53, 67, 75, 77, 84, 85 (n. 75), 90, 91, 99 (n. 145), 108, 109 Apollonios II (Delos) 53, 54, 67, 82, 90, 118 Apuleius 17, 89, 137, 167 Archistolistes 88 Archithiasitos 150 Archizapphos 97 Aretalogy (of Serapis) 67 Ariston (Delos) 81 Ariston (Rhodes) 99, 100, 114, 155 Ascalon, Gods of (sanctuary) 58, 60 Asklepiastai (Athens) 36 (n. 58), 39, 118 (n. 54), 120 Atargatis 46, 57, 95, 122, 124 Athena – Kynthia 59 (n. 66), 60–61 – Lindia 158 – Polias 120, 147 Athens, assembly-places/sanctuaries – Amyneion 31–32, 48, 142 (n. 3) – Asklepieion 39, 118 (n. 54), 121 – Iobakkheion 47–48, 131 Aulus Iulius Quadratus (Pergamum) 103 (n. 168) Baliton (Delos) 82

Belela 48 (n. 144), 97 Bendideia 34, 136 Bendis 15, 34, 108, 148, 160 Berytos see poseidoniastai Boukoloi (Pergamum) 23 (n. 39), 102–103, 108, 120, 128, 131 Boule 52, 148 Burial care 113, 115, 117, 131, 138, 145, 163 Byzantium 95 Caius Flavius Aptus 129–130 Christians 22, 26, 72, 98, 160 Collegium (Roman) 15, 17 (n. 4), 19 (n. 19), 89, 164 Commensality 55, 63, 119, 123, 126, 131, 153, 164 Corinth 105, (House-churches) 127 Cumae 115 Delos assembly-rooms/sanctuaries – Assembly-rooms of the poseidoniastai 65–66, 139 – Kyntheion 58, 60–61, 68 – Sanctuary of the gods of Ascalon 60–61 – Sanctuaries of the ‘Oriental’ style 58–61, 125, 139 – Sanctuary of the Syrian gods 57, 68–70, 96, 124, 162 – Serapeion A 52–54, 67, 70, 74, 82, 119–120 – Serapeion B 53–55, 81–82, 119 – Serapeion C 54, 68, 83 – ‘Synagogue’ 61–64, 70, 132–135, 162 Delos associations – Apolloniastai 65 – Charigno and synthiasitides 55 – Dekadistai kai dekatistriai 55, 57, 87, 151, 158 – Enatistai 55, 57–58, 81 (n. 50), 82, 84 (n. 70), 87, 150–152, 158 – Eranistai 81, 119 – Hermaistai 65 – Melanephoroi 55–56, 80, 82–84, 90–91, 149–152, 158 – Poseidoniastai of Berytos 17, 62 (n. 86), 65–66, 70, 139 – Samaritans 62–65, 70, 98, 111, 132, 135

General Index – Serapiastai 55–56, 74, 81–82, 84, 104 – Theos hypsistos, worshippers of 63–65, 133, 135 – Therapeutai (Egyptian gods) 55–56, 69, 80, 82, 83, 84, 149 – Therapeutai (Syrian gods) 57–58, 70, 96–97, 126 Dekadistai (general) 17, 55 (n. 34), 81 (n. 45) Demeter (general) 148 – Sanctuary at Corinth 121–125 Demetriastai 129 Demos 66, 149 (n. 27) Demosthenes 29 Dionysus (general) 16, 45, 94, 102, 107, 113, 115, 116, 131–132, 160, 162 – Chthonic 116–117 – Gongylos 105 – ‘Mystic’ 16, 108, 131, 147 Tauromorphic 102 (n. 165) Dionysiastai – Piraeus 42 (n. 98), 43–46, 50, 111 (n. 1), 118 (n. 54) – Rhodes 100, 152, 155–156 Dionysios of Alexandria (Delos) 96–97, 104 Dionysios (Philadelphia) 72–73, 107 Dionysios of Kassandreia (Delos) 82, 84 (n. 70) Dionysios of Marathon (Piraeus) 44, 99 (n. 145) Dionysodoros of Alexandria (Rhodes) 100, 155–156 Dura-Europos 139 Eikadistai 58 Ekklesia 28, 52 Enatistai (general) 57, 58, 87, 150, 151, 158 Epameinon (Ioulis, Kea) 78, 85 Ephebies 142, 147 Ephesus 23, 69, 120 – House of Aptus 129–130, 139 Epidaurus, ‘Gymnasion’ 122 Epimeletes – general 142 (n. 5), 143 – particular cases 45, 76, 87 (n. 81), 93, 94–95 (n. 122) Eponymos 75–76 Eranistai (general) 17, 18 (n. 10), 57, 152 Eranos 57, 94 (n. 117), 146 Eretria, Sanctuary of Isis 90–91, 137 Exedra 59, 124, 125, 126 Garizim, Mt 62–63, 70 ‘Godfearers’/Theosebeis 63–64 Grammateus – general 143, 150

187

– particular cases 45, 87 (n. 81), 154 Hadad 57, 122, 124 Haliadai and haliastai 100, 155 Hebrew 98, 108 Herakles Pankrates, associations of 37, 121 Hermaistai 65 Herodes Atticus (Athens) 48 Hestiateria 58, 59 Hierapolis (people of) 69, 97, 124 (n. 93), 139 Hierodouloi (of Isis) 79 Hieron (sanctuary, general meaning) 111, 126 (n. 105) Hierophant 130, 131 Hieropoios 76 (n. 17), 87 (n. 81), 142 (n. 5), 143 Horos-inscriptions 114, 157 (Cos) House-churches 127 Hypostolos 88, 89 Hypsikles (Thasos) 74–75, 85 Hypsistos see Theos Hypsistos Iobakkhoi 47, 48, 49, 115, 131, 161 Isiastai – Cos 79, 104 (n. 108), 114 – Rhodes 80 (n. 39), 85, 152, 153, 155 Isideia 78 Israelites (of Delos) 62, 98 Jewish Diaspora 62–63, 98, 108, 118, 132, 134, 184, 185 Kamiros (Rhodes) 152 Kineas (priest, Delos) 82, 84 (n. 70) Kitchen (in sanctuary) 59, 61 (n. 76), 63 Klinai (Dining benches) 60–61, 116, 128 Kline (Egyptian deities) 55, 84, 86, 91, 106, 161 Koinon (general) 15, 17 Kybele 16, 95 (association of), 129 Kyntheion (see Delos, sanctuaries) Laodicea (people of) 69, 94, 96 Lindos (Rhodes) 152, 157 Loculi 114, 116 Magnesia ad Meandrum – Dionysiac mysts/technitai 136 – Topos-inscriptions 136 Maenads 116, 136 Magna Mater 95 Melanephoroi – general 56, 91 – associations (exc. Delos) 90 Melos 130, 131, 139 Menneas (synagogos, Delos) 82 Metroon – Athens 139 – Piraeus 41, 42, 139

188

General Index

– terminology 111 Midas of Heracleia (Delos) 59 (n. 66), 67 (n. 108), 70, 96 (n. 132), 126 Miletus (people of) 69, 94, Mithridates VI Moschatou, shrine of the Mother of the Gods 42 (n. 99) Mysts 105, 131, 136 Mysteries 20, 21, 25, 72, 131, 160 Naos (general meaning) 111, 126 (n. 105) Nauarchs 137 Nikasion of Kyzikos (Rhodes) 153–155 Nikippe (Athens) 36 (n. 58, no. 10), 76 ‘Nile’-water 86, 147, 161, 162 Nomos 75 Oikos – Architecture 112, 125, 126 – Household 72, 113, 117 Orgeones – Belela 48 (n. 144) – Bendis ‘Citizen’ 35, 92, 118 – Bendis ‘Thracian’ 35, 41, 92–93, 118, 137 – Dexion, Amynos, Asklepios 30–31, 42, 48, 111 (n. 2), 142 (n. 3), 161 – Dionysus (dionysiastai) Piraeus 42 (n. 98), 43–46, 50, 111 (n. 1), 118 (n. 54) – Echelos 32, 36 (n. 58), 38 – Mother of the Gods 41–43, 46, 49, 94, 111, 118, 145, 158 – Syrian Aphrodite 28, 46 Orgia 136 Orgiastic 45 Oriental – cults/deities/religions 20–22, 160 – merchants 66, 139, 149 – style/type (architecture) 60, 139 Orphic gold tablets 117 Osiriastai 78, 79, 104 (n. 180), 115 Osiris-Apis 74 Paianistai – Athens 47 – Rhodes 100, 155 Palestine (people of) 96, 162 Palmyra 126, 139 Pastophoroi 89 Pater 97 Pergamum – Boukoloi 102–103, 108, 120, 128, 131 – Podiensaal 102, 108, 128, 129, 130, 131 Philadelphia (SIG³ 985) 72–73, 99, 107 Philostratos of Ascalon (Delos) 58, 59, 70, 96 (n. 132) Phratries 52, 142, 146, 148

Phylai 142, 148, 152, 154 Phylarchos 154 Plato 92, 137 Ploiaphesia 86 (n. 79), 137 Pompe (Bendis) 40, 44, 137, 161 Poseidoniastai 17, 65–66, 70, 139 Proseuche 62 (n. 87), 65, 98, 111, 112, 132 Rhamnous (serapiastai) 77–78, 85, 87, 104 Roma (goddess) 66 Sabaziastai – Piraeus 93–94 – Rhodes 99, 114, 153, 155, 156 Sabazios 45, 92, 93, 94 Samaritans 62–65, 70, 98, 111, 132, 135 Samothrakistai 152, 156 (n. 52) Samothrakeion 68, 69 Septuagint 64 (n. 93), 98, 108, 185 Serapeia – Delos (see Delos, sanctuaries) – Thessalonica 90, 105 Serapiastai – general 74, 85,86, 105, 106, 108 selection: – Cos 78–79, 104 – Delos 55, 56, 82, 84, 104 – Kea (Ioulis)78, 105 – Piraeus 75–76, 87 – Rhamnous 77–78, 85, 87, 104 – Rhodes 80, 87, 104, 152, 155, 156 – Thasos 74–75, 87 Serapis (general) 53, 54, 74, 87, 92, 104, 105, 106 Simon of Poros (Athens) 42 (n. 98), 46 (n. 125) Smyrna 23, 79–80 – Synanoubiastai 79, 85–86 – Dionysiac mysts and technites 136–137 Speira 17 Synagogos 57 Synagogue (see Delos, sanctuaries) Synanoubiastai (see Smyrna) Synodos 17, 145, 151, 161 Syrian deities (see Delos) Taphoi 114 (n. 28) Technites 165 Temenos (general) 33, 111 Theoi Protoi 59 Theos Hypsistos (see Delos, associations) Theosebeis/‘Godfearers’ (see Delos, associations) Therapeutai – Asklepios 47 (n. 133), 56, 92, 150 – Serapis (see Delos)

General Index – Syrian deities (see Delos) Thessalonica 90, 105, 131 Thiasos (general) 17, 29, 30, 107 (n. 201), 145, 150, 151, 161 Topos-inscriptions 136

Triclinium 59, 127, 128 Zenon of Selge (Rhodes) 113 Zeus – Kynthios 60, 61 – Thiasos (with Kybele/Apollo) 95

189

p o t s da m e r a lt e rt u m s w i s s e n s c h a f t l i c h e b e i t r äg e

Herausgegeben von Pedro Barceló, Peter Riemer, Jörg Rüpke und John Scheid.

Franz Steiner Verlag

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This book investigates the development of religious associations in the Aegean world in Hellenistic and Roman times on the basis of epigraphic and archaeological evidence from major sites. It offers a socio-cultural examination of religious associations linked to a variety of deities at different places. Founding or joining a religious association was a matter of individual choice. But that choice took place in an environment dominated by more traditional forms of religious worship, many of them closely integrated into the polis. Julietta Steinhauer asks what let individuals to participate in religious associations of this kind. What made these associations popular among people

from different social groups and ethnic backgrounds? Who might found a religious association, how did they do it, and why? Which deities were the most popular among the worshippers initiating such associations, and what were the reasons for their choices? Two case-studies investigating the evidence from Athens and Delos form the foundation of this book. One chapter is dedicated to the background of people involved in religious associations. The actual assembly places are considered from an archaeological perspective. Finally, a comparative chapter deals with the socio-political place of religious associations in the post-classical poleis of the Aegean world.

www.steiner-verlag.de Franz Steiner Verlag

ISBN 978-3-515-10646-7