What's in a Divine Name?

# What's in a Divine Name?

Religious Systems and Human Agency in the Ancient Mediterranean

Edited by Alaya Palamidis and Corinne Bonnet

with the collaboration of Julie Bernini, Enrique Nieto Izquierdo, and Lorena Pérez Yarza

This publication is the final outcome of the ERC Advanced Grant "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms. Cult Epithets as an Interface Betweeen Religious Systems and Human Agency" (2017–2023, grant agreement No 741182), which has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union's Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme.

ISBN 978-3-11-132627-6 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-132651-1 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-132756-3 DOI https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511

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Creative Commons license terms for re-use do not apply to any content (such as graphs, figures, photos, excerpts, etc.) not original to the Open Access publication and further permission may be required from the rights holder. The obligation to research and clear permission lies solely with the party re-using the material.

#### Library of Congress Control Number: 2023950686

#### Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek

The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2024 the author(s), editing © 2024 Alaya Palamidis and Corinne Bonnet, published by Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston This book is published open access at www.degruyter.com.

Cover image: Stele from the tophet of El-Hofra (Constantine, Algeria; ancient Cirta), from A. Berthier & R. Charlier, Le sanctuaire punique d'El-Hofra à Constantine, Paris, 1955, stele 15 GR, with the so-called "Sign of Tanit" and a three-letter inscription NAN, referring to a divine or human unknown name. The letter A has small, raised arms, like the Sign of Tanit. III-I century BCE. Typesetting: Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck

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# Contents

#### Abbreviations XI

Corinne Bonnet Introduction. What Does a Divine Name Do? 1

#### Part 1: Ritual Names: Communication with the Divine and Human Agency

Andrei Timotin and Karel van der Toorn Introduction 35

Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel Writing Divine Names in Ritual Practices of Ancient Mesopotamia 41

Theodora Suk Fong Jim Divine Naming in Greek and Chinese Polytheism 59

Jutta Jokiranta

Divine Names in Ritual Settings in the Dead Sea Scrolls 79

Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui Strategies for Naming the Gods in Greek Hymns 99

Jörg Rüpke Divine Names and Naming the Divine in Livy 121

#### Part 2: One and Many: Onomastic Bricolage

Sylvain Lebreton and Christophe Nihan Introduction 141

Spencer L. Allen Incomplete Ištar Assimilation: Reconsidering the Goddess's Divine History in Light of a Madonnine Analogy 147

VI Contents

#### Herbert Niehr

The Many Faces of Hadad in Aramaean Syria and Anatolia (1st Mill. BCE). Three Case Studies on Hadad at Sikāni, Samʾal, and Damascus 167

Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge

Demeter as Thesmophoros: What Does She Bring Forth? 185

Clarisse Prêtre The Onomastic Attributes of Greek Healing Deities 205

#### Part 3: Names and Images

Adeline Grand-Clément and Christoph Uehlinger Introduction 239

Milette Gaifman What Do Attributes Say About Apollo? 249

Anne-Françoise Jaccottet Gods' Names – Gods' Images. Dedications and Communication Process in Sanctuaries 271

Claudia Posani Epithets and Iconographic Attributes of Kubaba in Syro-Anatolian Iron Age Sources 299

Gaëlle Tallet How to Create a God: The Name and Iconography of the Deified Deceased Piyris at Ayn El-Labakha (Kharga Oasis, Egypt) 325

#### Part 4: Plural Divine Configurations, "Pantheons"and Divine Sovereignty

Gabriella Pironti and Corinne Bonnet Introduction 361

Giuseppe Garbati and Fabio Porzia In Search of God Baal in Phoenician and Cypriot Epigraphy (First Millennium BCE) 365

Sylvain Lebreton and Giuseppina Marano Zeus hupatos kreionton: A Comparative Study on Divine Sovereignty, Between Attica and Syria 391

François Quantin Divine Configurations and "Pantheons": Some Assemblages of Theoi in North-Western Greece 413

Nicole Belayche The Carian Stratonicea's Exception: Two Equal Megistoi Theoi as Divine Patrons in the Roman Period 435

#### Part 5: Human Names, Divine Names

Robert Parker and Jean-Baptiste Yon Introduction 465

Florian Réveilhac In the Name of Gods. In Search of Divine Epithets Through Luwic Personal Names 471

Giuseppe Minunno Who's in a Name? Human-Divine Relations in Personal Names from the Tophet of Carthage 489

Brandon Simonson Theophoric Aramaic Personal Names as Onomastic Sequences in Diasporic and Cosmopolitan Communities 511

Nathanael Andrade Christian Contexts, Non-Christian Names: Onomastic Mobility and Transmission in Late Antique Syria 531

Anna Heller Human Honours and Divine Attributes 551

Emiliano R. Urciuoli and Richard Gordon Call Me by God's Name. Onomaturgy in Three Early Christian Texts 569 VIII Contents

#### Part 6: Names and Knowledge

David Hamidović and Alaya Palamidis Introduction 585

Alaya Palamidis

The Names of Greek Gods. Divine Signs or Human Creations? 591

Francesco Padovani

"If by This Name it Pleases Him to be Invoked": Ancient Etymology and Greek Polytheism 621

Florian Audureau and Thomas Galoppin The All-Encompassing Name: Multilingualism, Myth and Materiality in a Late Greek Papyrus of Ritual Power (PGM XIII) 641

Martin Leuenberger Yahweh's Divine "Names". Changing Configurations in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 667

Jonathan Ben–Dov The Lord of Spirits in the Book of Parables of Enoch from a Levantine Point of View 689

#### Part 7: Mobility, Transmission, Translation

Laurent Bricault and Carolina López-Ruiz Introduction 707

Collin Cornell Interpretatio Among Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt 713

Anna Angelini

Divine Names, Heavenly Bodies, and Human Visions: The Septuagint and the Transformation of Ancient Israelite Religion 735

Lorena Pérez Yarza and Corinne Bonnet

Divine Names and Bilingualism in Rome: Religious Dynamics in Multilingual Spaces 759

Mary R. Bachvarova Apollo Delphinios – Again 781

Ian Rutherford Cross-Cultural Pilgrimage and Religious Change: Translation, Filial Cults, and Networks 801

#### Postface

Corinne Bonnet Postface 827

Beate Pongratz-Leisten Some Thoughts on the Origins of the Divine and Interaction with Divinity in the Ancient Near East 829

Philippe Borgeaud Naming the Gods between Immanence and Transcendence in Greco-Roman Polytheisms 843

Index Nominum 849

# Abbreviations

Abbreviations for ancient Greek and Latin authors are taken from Liddell, Scott and Jones' Greek-English Lexicon and from the Oxford Latin Dictionary respectively.










# Corinne Bonnet Introduction

What Does a Divine Name Do?

Abstract: The paper aims at exploring the many facets and uses of divine names in contexts. It provides a typology to clarify "what does a divine name do": spatialize, describe, appropriate, connect, and praise/exalt. Some case studies shed light on each function of divine names.

# 1 Naming, a "Sense Function"

Naming is no trivial act; it falls within those "sense functions" (Sinnfunktionen, in the language of Ernst Cassirer<sup>1</sup> ) that organise the world and weave relationships. As Claude Lévi-Strauss writes in The Savage Mind, each human being, each group, according to their living environment, needs, language, and culture, names the human, the non-human and the superhuman. This process engages a conceptual organisation of the world based on methods of observation and theoretical approaches.2 To name always implies to classify, be it oneself or others. Naming the gods, to echo the fundamental volume published in French in 2005, certainly responds to multiple and intertwined logics: to observe, to distinguish, to appropriate, to classify, to connect, to give meaning. To name is also to describe, to shape, to show, to represent, to activate knowledge, to compare: complex operations negotiated differently according to cultural contexts. Naming is therefore a sophisticated linguistic skill, rooted in space and time, that is developed through praxis. E. Cassirer thereby defends the idea that the function of "expression" (Ausdrucksfunktion) performed by names is achieved through practice. This is indeed the perspective adopted by the project "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms. Cult Epithets as an Interface between Religious Systems and Human Agency" (MAP) which is the origin of the collective volume What's in a Divine Name?<sup>3</sup> By choosing to gather up the divine names from the abundant Greek and West Semitic epigraphic documentation, over the long period of time that stretches from 1000 BCE to 400 CE, the MAP project

Cassirer 1923–1929. See also Cassirer 1925. Cf. van Vliet 2016.

Lévi-Strauss 1962.

This book is also the result of a Workshop held in Toulouse in October 2022 to allow the authors to present and discuss a preliminary version of their paper.

I warmly thank the members of the MAP team for their invaluable suggestions. The MAP project has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union's Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement No 741182).

aims to address the remarkable variety of social practices involving divine powers and their designations. The MAP database, rich at this stage with more than 22,000 testimonies of divine names,4 is designed to record a whole series of metadata and to explore the pragmatic logics behind the choices made when naming the gods: types of document, places, eras, types of agency and agents (gender, number, status, activities . . . ), occasions, associated material, arrangements of onomastic elements . . . All these data, and the ways in which they determine the meaning(s) of a name, shed light on pragmatic taxonomies. At the crossroads of a multitude of parameters, divine names emerge in an unstable balance of conjunction and disjunction, composition and decomposition of the real, understood as a "set of events". <sup>5</sup> In this perspective, with Hermann Usener, we can speak of a process of "constant regeneration", of a great onomastic theogony, to use the terms applied by J. Scheid and J. Svenbro to Usener's work.<sup>6</sup> At the core of different historical and sociological dynamics, which the MAP project studies on a large scale, divine names play a major role in the fabric of religions, between demiurgy and theurgy, in the etymological sense of these terms.

Approaching names as interfaces between "religious systems" and "human agency", in accordance with the roadmap of the MAP project, implies working on the obvious and complex articulation between "expression" and "(re)presentation" (Ausdruck and Darstellung, in Cassirer), between structures and micro-adjustments ("micro-péréquations" in Lévi-Strauss' terms). In other words, a divine name is never entirely contingent, nor completely predictable. We could adopt a concept taken from the micro-history conceptual framework: the name belongs to the "exceptional ordinary".

Today, the MAP database provides a whole series of regions in the Mediterranean world fully covered and five query interfaces, allowing countless explorations of the logics underlying the naming choices made by the agents. It is a very stimulating tool to address the niggling question: What's in a divine name? Shakespeare, in Romeo and Juliet (Act II, scene II), adds "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet". Juliet has just asked Romeo to disown his father or reject his name, because, she begs:

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

The database (https://base-map-polytheisms.huma-num.fr/) records divine onomastic sequences ("attestation" in French, "testimony" in English) found in sources (inscriptions on various material supports). The sequences or testimonies are broken down into onomastic elements, the smallest unit of meaning; we have therefore refrained from distinguishing between theonym, epithet and epiclesis to make the data recording as fluid as possible. Cf. Lebreton/Bonnet 2019.

Lévi-Strauss 1962, 47.

Usener 1896; Scheid/Svenbro 2005.

What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.

To which Romeo responds by proposing "Call me but love, and I'll be new baptised" (Act II, scene II). And he goes on: "I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; Had I it written, I would tear the word." This passage is very fitting for our subject: it raises the question of the materiality of the name, between corporeality and written form; it questions its effectiveness in terms of sensoriality and affects; it engages the question of onomastic identity and its genetic depth; it also evokes the dynamics of appropriation and belonging in relation to the name; finally, it suggests the versatility of the name conceived as an attribute which one can remove in order to adopt another, more relevant in a given social context. This is how Romeo and Juliet spin a new web of relationships by naming each other "love" and "dear saint". The power of the onomastic process is central to the plot, and not just in "the name of the rose".

Considered both fragments of knowledge and levers of ritual action, the names given to the gods, which the MAP database records and connects to a multitude of contexts,<sup>7</sup> provide a cartography of the divine worlds – polytheisms and monotheism –, incomplete, but far-reaching and definitely complex.8 Therefore, the notion of "system" does not refer here to a closed and fix whole, which is sometimes called "pantheon", from an anachronistic and etic point of view, but rather to a vast set of existing and virtual relationships, that move without being chaotic: assemblages, configurations, arrangements, semantics interplays, networks, which are innumerable without being infinite. In this regard, it is interesting to monitor the progress of the recording of data in the MAP database: while the number of sources and testimonies continues to increase very steadily, the number of Greek and Semitic onomastic elements is starting to make slower progress; we have now more than 4,200 different elements, a huge stock that is hardly growing. Creativity in terms of divine onomastics therefore does has its limits. To compose a divine onomastic sequence made up of a minimum of two elements9 – the longest sequence currently recorded in the database is a string of 143 elements – the agents of a given place and time obviously did not

The database focuses on Greek-language and West Semitic sources throughout the wider Mediterranean world, from 100 BCE to 400 CE.

Onomastic strategies are also an excellent line of attack for observing the similarities and differences between these logics for organising the divine.

The MAP database contains a number of testimonies for a single element where this is an adjective or a noun acting as a theonym, such as Hupsistos by itself or 'dn by itself.

have at their disposal this immense stock of elements, which, and this bears repeating, is a modern artefact. Nevertheless, by adopting the overarching view offered by the database, one is both amazed at the incredible wealth of nouns, epithets, propositions, etc. used to designate the gods and build up their portrait, and made aware of a threshold effect, because creativity in terms of divine onomastics had certain limits. A simple query allows to get the measure of this: in the MAP database, let us search for the Greek elements used in dedications only, all eras and places combined; there are over 1,500. If we order them by number of testimonies in which these elements appear, we see that around 700 of them – almost 50% – are only used once. Less than 300 elements (20%) are solicited at least 10 times, of which a significant number, around 50, are in fact theonyms. This first overall "mapping" indicates that there is a basic layer of relatively frequent onomastic elements. On the Greek side, one might be tempted to search there for the nucleus of a "pan-Hellenic" religion, but that would be a mistake because, a contrario, for most of these elements, they bear witness to local customs that are well-established and documented by extensive epigraphic files from a specific sanctuary, for instance. The 153 testimonies of the Greek element ἡ ἐν/ ἐπὶ τῶι στρόφιγγι, "She who is in/on the pointed hill", echo the many inscriptions relating to the Nymphaion of Kafizin, on the island of Cyprus, where the local Nymph is almost ever designated with that element. The frequency of testimonies containing toponymic qualifications such as Ὀλύμπιος (475), Δήλιος (272) or Πύθιος (456) refers to forms of spatialisation that points to a local dimension, but that may also transcend it using various social strategies.

In terms of creativity, as evidenced by the reservoir of more than 4,200 onomastic elements applied to divine powers, it is worth highlighting two points: first, the fundamental role played by the typology of sources. For instance, the metric epigrams as well as the so-called "magical" texts (defixiones in particular) are very active producers of divine names and complex onomastic sequences. The former because they willingly draw from Homeric sources and use the originality of the lexicon as a token of distinction; the latter because the concern for ritual efficiency gives rise to creative assemblages and innovations, the originality, and even alterity, of which guarantees the power of action.10 The second observation relates to micro-variations that are recorded across one locality or sanctuary, dialectal, grammatical, semantic or even stylistic, the scope of which is sometimes difficult to grasp. For example, how can we account for the synchronic use of the adjective Νέμειος, "Nemean" to qualify Zeus, and of the toponym Νεμέαι, "of Nemea", for the same divinity? Here, we are dealing with implicit logics that we run the risk of over-interpreting, although they certainly

However, the defixiones from Attica before the Christian era invoke deities competent in a targeted field, without significant innovation. But, if we take into consideration those from Cyprus in the Roman era, the onomastic sequences that they mobilise or produce are much more original, often inspired by a Greco-Egyptian background, and even associated with incomprehensible names.

contribute to expanding the divine onomastic landscapes and the networks that make them up.

These initial considerations allow us to affirm that, in a divine name, first and foremost, there is complexity and depth. A divine name conveys history and memory, knowledge and conjecture, uses and inventiveness, constraints and freedom. Names determine and distinguish, but they also express a degree of uncertainty and they shape collective divine entities. They translate kinships, affinities, proximities, intersections, but they also construct territories, borders, distances. They express specific functions of the gods, their aptitudes and ways of being and acting, separately or together; they outline vast areas of expertise shared by many different divine powers, and they emphasize the status of the gods, as is the case with the qualification of θεός, which is by far the most widely used element in Greek divine onomastic sequences, with nearly 3,700 testimonies at present, whereas bʽl and 'dn in Semitic are both attested over 5,000 times.11 Names are also used to locate, to root, to situate in an environment, and to express mobility, ubiquity because the gods live in a cosmic dimension, far beyond the human horizon. Names, finally, give body, shape, they "sensorialise" the gods according to anthropomorphic criteria, with a fundamental touch of otherness. In fact, if the onomastic elements reflect the perception that men have of gods, they also contribute to "othering", blurring or muddying their image.

By exploring a large quantity of divine names, as we do in the MAP project, we are convinced of the need to keep together all these onomastic strategies and not prioritise any of them, so as not to risk impoverishing a material of considerable diversity. Voice, portrait, narrative, hypothesis, fossil, index or trace, the name cannot be reduced to one single category. Evoked or summoned, read, sung, praised, etymologised, euphemised, blasphemed, translated, revealed or transmitted, diverted, appropriated, divine names contribute to the elaboration of a human discourse on the gods, a "theology" in the etymological sense of the term. Far from being just a label, that fixes an identity or a function, the name by which a god is designated is a powerful key for accessing the polytheistic and monotheistic archipelagos.<sup>12</sup> As we celebrate the bicentenary of the birth of Alfred Russel Wallace (1823–1913), his magnificent travelogue entitled The Malay Archipelago suggests that exploring onomastic "species" can turn into a great adventure, with fascinating landscapes, lush forests, strange animals, in short, an "ecology of the divine" conceived as the vast picture of the relationships that man builds with his environment, of which the gods are fully a part.

In this regard, the considerable weight of the inscriptions on the Tophet of Carthage should be noted, which repeat the same formula "To the Lady to Tanit Face of Baal and to the Lord to Baal Hammon" over 4,000 times, which has a major impact on the statistics and introduces a bias that must be taken into account.

On the notion of archipelagos to represent the state of our knowledge, see Parker 2011, VII: "Amid a vast archipelago of scattered islets of information, only a few are of a size to be habitable."

To achieve this goal, the volume What's in a divine name? mobilises a range of specialists from multiple fields and orientations, to offer a multidisciplinary and cross-cultural exploration of divine names and the important issues they imply. By way of introduction to the seven thematic sections that mark out the route, it seems useful, in order to fully grasp the variety of onomastic strategies attested in the sources, to propose an experimental typology, based on the MAP database and other complementary tools or sources. The objective is to highlight some major orientations in the construction and use of divine names, without claiming to be exhaustive. With relevant examples, I will show how human agents have given shape and meaning to complex systems of gods by engaging various onomastic resources and cultural skills. I will avoid making rigid something which is fundamentally dynamic and I will show how divine names interweave several horizons of reference. Before coming to this, however, let me recall a few major stages in the abundant historiography on divine names, trying at the same time to stress how original the approach driven by the MAP project actually is.

### 2 "A Great Theogony"

The Homeric question has naturally played a propellant role in the early interest of humanists in the variety of divine names (onoma, eponumia or epiclesis). Renaud Gagné has masterfully traced the history of modern explorations into the polyonymy of ancient polytheisms.<sup>13</sup> Bocacce's pioneering study entitled Genealogia deorum gentilium (1360–1374) opened the way to targeted works on divine onomastics, in particular that of Julien de Havrech, De cognominibus deorum gentilium, in 1541.14 Lists of divine names then flourished, echoing catalogs produced in Antiquity, such as Ἐπικλήσεις τῶν θεῶν, an opus consisting of at least twelve books, written by Socrates of Cos and quoted by Diogenes Laertius.<sup>15</sup> The so-called paganorum Theologia thus raises many questions: is it possible to go back through the many onomastic layers to a primitive monotheism?<sup>16</sup> The thesis written in 1889 by George Wentzel, a pupil of Wilamowitz in Göttingen, and entitled Ἐπικλήσεις θεῶν, sive de deorum cognominibus per grammaticorum graecorum scripta dispersis, puts forward an onomastic nomenclature of the Greek gods. In particular, it establishes a distinction between epicleses (cultic) and epithets (literary), without however striving to understand their meaning and scope, obsessed as his author was by a Quellenforschung perspective. As early as 1893, the

Gagné 2021.

Julien de Havrech, De cognominibus deorum gentilium, Goyni, Anvers, 1541; cf. Petri Iacobi Montefalco, De cognominibus deorum opusculum, 1525 (c. 1407–1500).

Diog. Laert. 2.47.

Konaris 2016, 52–101.

collection by Karl Friedrich Heinrich Bruchmann, Epitheta deorum quae apud poetas graecos leguntur, came to light, as a supplement to Roscher's Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie, while volume I,2 of the 4th edition of Griechische Mythologie by Ludwig Preller, published in 1894 by Carl Robert, provides a Register der Beinamen used for the gods. Two years later, in 1896, Hermann Usener developed his theory on the history of divine onomastics in Götternamen. Versuch einer Lehre von der Religiösen Begriffsbildung, a work which has had a considerable impact.<sup>17</sup> For the first time, the importance of divine names and epithets as an access to "religious concepts", as well as their empirical significance, was highlighted. By linking the representation of the divine to the system of naming, and connecting religious thought with ritual actions, Usener opened the way for studying the names of gods and their epithets as constitutive elements of polytheisms.

At the same time, developments in comparative philology and etymological explorations opened up the possibility of dealing with epithets in a diachronic perspective, by exploring their polysemy. However, scholars retraced the chain of their transmission as a process of corruption and aimed to identify their archetypal, unique, authentic meaning. The quest for origins led to essentialising the epithet or epiclesis, while the abundance of its uses was considered as a collection of errors. Such an opinion basically matches with the one already defended by Christian apologists. In fact, the emergence of Christianity reduced polytheisms to the rank of false religions, characterised by an uncontrolled proliferation of the divine and of divine names, and reduced "pagan gods" to idols or false gods.18 From the Church Fathers to the historians of the early twentieth century, scholars gradually gave up trying to understand the complex architecture of the polytheistic religions. As Schmidt puts it, it became "l'impensable polythéisme" ("inconceivable polytheism").<sup>19</sup> The many lists of epithets did not help when it came to grasping how plurality worked as a relational system, and not as a chaos.

In 1932, Louis Gernet began challenging the essentialist approach to the divine and approaching the gods as a "système de notions". <sup>20</sup> He noted that epithets were used to contract or expand divine powers as well as to identify specific gods in ritual contexts. A generation later, Vernant and Dumézil accomplished a breakthrough with their dynamic and comparative understanding of the "society of gods". By asserting that gods were not people but rather powers,21 Vernant laid the foundation for a new approach to polytheisms as complex systems with a multitude of relationships and polarities. Epithets then began to come out as resources to shape the systems of gods

Cf. Scheid/Svenbro 2005.

See August., De civ. D. 6.9.1: "those very offices of the gods, so meanly and so minutely portioned out, so that they say that they ought to be supplicated, each one according to his special function." Schmidt 1987.

Gernet/Boulanger 1932, 222. Cf. Scheid/Pirenne 2017.

Vernant 1965; Vernant 1974; Bonnet et al. 2017.

and to orientate human practices. Through the analysis of "faits de structure", Dumézil penetrated to the deeper strata of religious systems, while the influence of anthropology and sociology of religions encouraged scholars to pay more attention to the emic categories concerning the divine and to the contexts of enunciation of divine names. The MAP project combines both approaches and is inspired by the experimental and comparative exploration of polytheisms as historical, cultural products led by Marcel Detienne.22

The focus of MAP was to understand how the ancients conceived, organised, and managed the plurality of the divine. The collective volume published in 2005, Nommer les Dieux. Théonymes, épithètes, épiclèses dans l'Antiquité,<sup>23</sup> already tackles this huge question. In the preface, Pierre Brulé uses the concept of "divine landscape of epiclesis" to express the idea that each multifaceted god constitutes a micro-network constructed and expressed through epithets. Previously, in 1998, Brulé had laid the theoretical and methodological foundations of the first project for a database of Greek divine epithets (BDEG).24 He had stressed the need for an exhaustive collection of epithets in order to work both on local, regional and global contexts, through an extensive approach to religious systems.

In 2003, Robert Parker published a seminal paper: "The Problem of the Greek Cult Epithet", <sup>25</sup> in which he states that the epithet "is a central but little discussed aspect of Greek polytheism". He added: "Perhaps the extraordinary infrequency, amid all the huge literature that exists on Greek religion, of theoretical discussions of the cult epithet as a category, is the product of a suspicion that there is indeed nothing illuminating to be said except about particular examples." <sup>26</sup> The MAP project intends to prove that both specific examples and the study of the entire system of epithets provide a deeper understanding of how religions work. In 2011, Henk Versnel, in Coping with the Gods, dealt extensively with the tensions between unity and diversity inherent to polytheism, considering that epithets are "ingredients for chaos." <sup>27</sup> As traces of multiperspectiveness, they bear witness to the fact that "various different conceptions of the unity or diversity of gods with one name and different epithets or different residences are stored in the mind of a person". One may add: not only in the mind of a single person, but in the collective imaginary of a whole social community. In fact, the ERC project 2012–2016 "Lived Ancient Religion. Questioning 'cults' and 'polis religion", headed by Jörg Rüpke in Erfurt,<sup>28</sup> used "appropriation", "experience" and "agency" as

Detienne 1997 and 2009.

Belayche et al. 2005.

Brulé 1998. See also Brulé/Lebreton 2007.

Parker 2003.

Parker 2003, 175.

Versnel 2011, 60–87.

For a reassessment, Gasparini et al. 2020.

keywords and highlighted the importance of both social contexts and individual strategies in shaping ritual situations, included the naming processes.

Since 2017, the MAP project decided to explore the Semitic and Greek epigraphic texts comprehensively and comparatively in order to collect and map the divine names, conceived as onomastic sequences made up of a minimum of two onomastic elements. The previous conceptual grid, with a rigid distinction between theonym and epithet, on the one hand, and literary epithet and cultic epiclesis on the other hand, resulted too compelling and particularly inadequate for the Semitic languages. By studying the variety of uses, contexts, agents, occasions, intentions, objectives, which design and mobilise divine onomastic elements, MAP made it possible to observe and analyse dynamic networks that organise, synchronically and diachronically, the divine world. Thanks to its cross-cultural nature, the MAP database provides scholars with an experimental space meant to explore the strategies of interaction between human and divine, involving norms and creativity, local and global, texts and images.

# 3 Typology Test

#### 3.1 Spatialise

The onomastic elements that serve to spatialise the divine powers are by far the most numerous.<sup>29</sup> They consist of toponyms (more than 750 of the 4,200 elements, close to 20%), expressed in the form of a noun or noun phrase, an adjective or a clause. If we add in the topographic elements ("space" category), we find over 1,000 elements, or 25%; with the elements that fall under the categories "mobility" and "limit/passage", we reach over 1,100 elements, close to 30%. For Semitic, all these categories cover over 150 elements out of less than 400 attested elements (theonyms excluded), which means that the Semitic elements used to spatialise the gods make up nearly 40%. But a quantitative approach is not sufficient. Connecting a divine power with space, invoking it with an onomastic element which refers to a region, a city, a landscape, a mountain, a port or the whole territory of a social group is much more than simply geolocating it. Whether we adopt Maurice Halbwachs' mnemotopy concept,30 refer to the trilogy of "Here, There, Anywhere" coined by Jonathan Z. Smith,<sup>31</sup> apprehend landscapes the way Patrick Perez does in his paper "Ce que les Hopi m'ont appris sur le paysage" <sup>32</sup> or revisit the notion of localism in the footsteps of Hans Beck,33 the rich-


Galoppin et al. 2022.

Iogna-Prat 2011.

Smith 2003.

ness and complexity of spatial language needs to be explored. To say of a god that he is from a place, using a toponym or a topographical feature, is at the same time to confine and expand him, or to isolate and multiply him, in space and in time, even beyond the agents' social background and their collective memory.

Let us examine an example. In the Diegesis of Iambus VII, a very fragmentary poetic piece,34 Callimachus offers an etiological account concerning Hermes Perpheraios,35 an adjective which can be translated as "wanderer", "rotating", but also "resistant", with reference to the various meanings of the verb περιφέρω. The onomastic element Perpheraios, which emphasizes Hermes' mobility comes as no surprise for a "passing" god.36 The story told by Callimachus is that of a progressive integration of the god who, after various ordeals, ends up being honoured (τιμᾶται) in the city of Ainos in Thrace:37

This is why Hermes Perpheraios is honoured in Ainos, city of Thrace: Epeios, before making the wooden horse, also made a Hermes, which was swept away when the Scamander flooded. It was then carried out to the sea that borders Ainos, where some fishermen caught it in their nets. When they saw it, they complained about their catch and, to keep warm, began to cut the Hermes up into pieces and set fire to it. Striking it on the shoulder, they just about managed to leave their mark on it but were unable to split it in two. They then tried to burn it whole, but the fire simply blazed around it. So they gave up and threw it back into the sea. When they once again found it in their nets, they came to believe he was a god or had been touched by a divinity; they erected a sanctuary dedicated to him on the shore and offered him their first catches, circling around him one after the other.<sup>38</sup> Upon the invitation of an oracle of Apollo, they welcomed him into the city and accorded him much the same honours as the gods.

The onomastic attribute applied locally to the god is a hapax, which is not echoed in the epigraphy. The story refers to the peregrinations of the god's image, forged in Troy and tossed about by the waves. Endowed with an intrinsic power,<sup>39</sup> Hermes ended up imposing his presence, first on the shore, then in the city.40 At first consid-

In this part, it is the statue that expresses itself in direct speech, as a kind of extension of the dedication of the consecrated object.

Callim., Ia. 7. Cf. Delattre 2007; Petrovic 2010, who backs the idea that "the seventh iambos is an allegorical representation of the iambic poetry". See also Acosta-Hughes 2002.

Kahn 1978.

Dan et al. 2019. It should also be noted that the term αἶνος means "narrative, story, fable, enigma", a meaning with which Callimachus certainly plays, as noted by Petrovic 2010, 218.

The restitution περιφέρων seems plausible in this story which aims to account for the epithet of the god.

The god uses ἐπῳδαὶ to defend himself.

A similar legend is told by Paus. (10.19.3) about a divine image collected by fishermen from Mithymna, on the island of Lesbos. The oracle of Delphi ordered that he be paid homage under the name of Dionysos. The text of the oracle, with the commentary of the philosopher Oinomaos, appears in Euseb., Praep. eυang., 5.36. In the fragmentary part of the Ia. 7, the speaking object refers to Palaimones, which evokes Palemon, the son of Ino-Leucothea who, accompanied by his mother, rushed into the sea from the Molouris rock, near Megara, and whose body washed up near Corinth. The Isthmian competitions were set up in his honour.

ered as a fishing waste, he is then treated as a piece of firewood, before reaching the status of a divine effigy or at least an object belonging to a god, worthy of receiving a place of worship and offerings; finally Hermes is welcomed at the heart of the civic space where he is honoured "almost (παραπλησίως) like the gods". The prefix peri- is of remarkable importance in this story, since it refers to both the spirals that the god makes in space before settling in the city and the ritual performance consisting in circulating the offerings for him from one actor to another. The story also spatialises the god between lived and imaginary space; Hermes Perpheraios moves from the margins towards the centre, from sea to land, and he inspires the circle, περιϕορά, drawn by the cult officiants in the ritual, in memory of the itinerancy of the god.41 At the same time, this movement marks the collective appropriation of the new god by each member of the community, a bit like during the festival of Bouphonia, when a circumambulation of oxen took place, or the Amphidromia, where people circle the fire . . . The god settles in Ainos thanks to the authority of Delphi, without however adopting the epithet of Ainios, attested only once to this day for Aphrodite.42 However, the coinage of the city, from the 5th century BCE and until the Lagid period, features the image of a Hermes on a throne, bearded, wearing a petasos, a walking goat standing to the left of the throne. This image is associated with the head of Hermes on the obverse. What is this animal doing here? In the pottery iconography, it is not uncommon to see sacrificial scenes associating Hermes with a goat, not to mention that he is the father of the goat-footed god par excellence, Pan. Pierre Brulé, who dedicated an article to the goat,43 refers to two passages from Diodorus (16.26) and Pausanias (10.5.7), according to which the manteion of Delphi was first discovered by goats, hence the custom of sacrificing these animals when consulting the oracle. Do the coins from Ainos, while drawing inspiration from a pattern widely spread in the region,<sup>44</sup> also allude to this ability and to the oracle of Delphi which legitimised the implantation of Hermes in Ainos? In any event, this case study shows that each name related to space is truly a Pandora's box. For instance, some traditions linked to the nostoi and known to Virgil (Aen. 3.13–18) recall that Aeneas stopped over at Ainos, like Hermes. Besides, Ainos, located at the mouth of the river Hebros, was an important commercial hub between the Aegean and the Northern regions. Hermes, a god often involved in transactions and trade, was particularly welcome there; the Perpheraios epithet made him a useful wanderer, who came from afar and became local protector, a "peripheral" roamer established at the centre of the city, celebrated through a circular ritual, with propitiatory virtues.

Even the fire forms circles (περιέρρει) around the statue.

Martínez Fernández 1999, no. 6. Cf. SEG 49, 866.

Brulé 2007.

Psoma 2003.

#### 3.2 Describe

The manifold divine onomastic elements captured in the MAP database provide access to the complex fabric of polytheisms: the variety of appellations plays a decisive role in multiplying the divine and presenting each god as a kaleidoscopic entity. In the famous passage by Herodotus (II.53), which attributes the first theogonies to Homer and Hesiod, among the constituent parameters of this contribution, the eponumiai stand alongside the timai and the technai, as well as the eidea. Giving "forms" to the gods is therefore part of the theogonic process and is linked to the names. Names and images belong to the domain of attributes that construct meaning (σημήναντες), allowing agents to use specific divine ingredients appropriately in the ritual communication. Since the work of Jean-Pierre Vernant, the question of the figuration of the invisible has been at the heart of the study of ancient religions.45 In that perspective, it is important to pay attention to the spaces that host the representations and the rituals performed to activate them.<sup>46</sup> "Presentification" and "representation" are two key notions in this respect, which can help exploring the semantic scope of divine names. On the cover and in the Introduction to the MAP volume entitled Noms de dieux,<sup>47</sup> the composite and paradoxical portrait of Vertumnus-Rudolf of Habsburg painted by Arcimboldo illustrates the gap and the articulation between reality and image, a human and a divine portrait. As far as the gods are concerned, the notion of "surcorps", proposed by J.-P. Vernant and Ch. Malamoud, highlights the fact that the body of the gods belongs to the field of otherness; it is an index of a "transgression of body code", <sup>48</sup> even though it is anthropomorphic. The brilliance, vigour, beauty, size, unalterable and incorruptible character (like the Hermes of Ainos!) of divine bodies reflect a particular ontology, a distance from the human. Anthropomorphism, as demonstrated recently with the gods of Homer,<sup>49</sup> is a strategy that fuels the narrative and fills the sanctuaries. It arouses various reactions, in particular the criticisms of Plato and Christian authors, but, like the multitude of names, the variety of representations contributes to generating a divine in the plural. It is remarkable that Epicurus associates the existence of the gods κατ'ἀριθμόν, "according to number", to the "continuous stream of similar images" (ἐκ τῆς συνεχοῦς ἐπιρρύσεως τῶν ὁμοίων εἰδώλων).50 However, anthropomorphism is frequently combined with theriomorphism or aniconism, as different options of "morphism" corresponding to strategies for constructing complex, changing, unstable divine powers.

Vernant 1996. See, more recently, regarding several publications Huet 2014.

Jaccottet 2021.

Bonnet 2021; an English translation will be published in 2024.

Gagné/Herrero 2019b, 26.

Gagné/Herrero 2019a.

Apud Diog. Laert. X.139.

Countless onomastic elements fall under the category of eidos and correspond to these various strategies of "representation"/"presentification" of the divine.51 They describe the gods, their appearance, their bodies or their gait, they associate them with colours or scents, an adornment or an attribute, they contribute hiding the gods behind a metaphor or an obscure comparison; all the scenarios are widely attested in the epigraphic corpora, both in Semitic and in Greek. These onomastic elements are categorised as "perception" in the MAP database and they are over 400 in Greek and barely 20 in Semitic. In Phoenician or in Hebrew, in Nabataean or in Punic, it is (so far) impossible to find a divine onomastic sequence describing the hair or the regard of a god, evoking his beauty or his brilliance, whereas there is a plethora of testimonies involving toponyms or titles (god, lord, master . . . ). In Late Bronze Age Ugaritic texts, Aicha Rahmouni has identified 112 epithets, lato sensu, applied to the gods,<sup>52</sup> but most of them, even in poetic texts, refer to kinship or constitute titles without any real "descriptive" significance as to the appearance of the gods. A notable exception, in the Punic sphere, is Tanit describes as "Face of Baal" over 4,500 times, mostly in the tophet of Carthage, a qualification that is also, and probably above all functional and relational, not descriptive. No image of Tanit gives her a masculine visage and the parallel with Astarte "Name of Baal" <sup>53</sup> points rather to an onomastic attribute expressing the power of the goddess through proximity with the god.

One is all the more struck by the Greek abundance of onomastic elements that provide the gods with "body": Twelve of them describe the hair alone, seventeen relate to radiance or brilliance, at least another ten refer to the voice, the cry, the song; the colours are also very numerous, with so many nuances. To clear up this difference between Greek and Semitic epithets, it is important to remember that Semitic theonyms are often transparent or speaking nouns:<sup>54</sup> Shadrapha is the "healing god", the Baalat Gebal is the "Lady of Byblos", Rakibel is "the Rider of El", Yam is "the Sea", etc. Even if the significance of Greek theonyms has been the subject of many etymological speculations striving to discover their meaning, Artemis or Zeus, Poseidon or Hephaistos are definitely less transparent, hence the need or the desire to resort to eponumiai to make sense of their o(u)nomata.<sup>55</sup> In the wide range of Greek onomastic elements specifying the morphism(s) of certain deities, some are expected: the gods are beautiful, desirable, resplendent, large, polymorphic, visible, manifest, thundering and lightning, horned, winged, seen by all or all-seeing, golden or dark. But the gods also have

I completely agree with Gagné/Herrero 2019b, 28, who contest the fact that the anthropomorphisation of divine personifications is seen as "homerisation" when it is a process that is widespread in inscriptions and therefore in ritual practice as well.

Rahmouni 2007.

Bonnet 2009.

Porzia 2020.

Theories relating to their foreign origin may have contributed to making it opaque in the eyes of the Greeks.

mighty hands or arms of water; they are related to wolves, bulls, eagles, dogs, snakes, lions, mice . . . Some onomastic elements fit with a strategy that consists in moving away from anthropomorphism and emphasizing the divine otherness: a god can thus be mute, invisible, hidden or secret, have a terrifying gaze, a bovine or "creepy" gaze, have three faces or be incorporeal. Adjectives such as aphonos, anonumos, alalos, aglossos, anikonos, ategktos, astatos, ageros, alogistos, atrugetos, aphanes, define the divine by a lack: no voice, no name, no speech, no language, no image, no sensibility, no stability, no age, no reason, no fatigue, no appearance, while pan-compounds express, on the contrary, their ability to master everything, to be superlatively powerful: panomphaios, panderkes, panteoptes, panepiskopos, panteles, panoptes, pantheos . . .

Without revisiting a complex and debated issue, it is worth addressing the question of the alleged divine anonymity. To call a god with a somehow tautological expression, such as "God/Lord of such a place", or with an expression that designates the god in a negative way (invisible, anonymous, etc.), is a strategy which does not imply that the name is taboo, but rather puts the emphasis on what is different about divine beings. The so-called "aniconic" images, such as rough or standing stones, may also be considered as differently iconic, according to a choice in the representation of the divine while signalling the limits of human knowledge of it.<sup>56</sup> Since to name is to categorise and classify, by calling a god "invisible" or "anonymous", "unstable" or "insensitive", language is used to emphasise the ontological and hierarchical distance between the human and the divine. A good example of these strategies is the wellattested and recently studied by Aleksandra Kubiak-Schneider<sup>57</sup> Palmyrene divine appellation "Blessed be his name for eternity", bryk šmh lʿlmʾ. Attested over 200 times, this divine name is often associated with qualifications, such as "good", "compassionate", "merciful". As for the mise en abyme process in iconographic sources, called Bild im Bild, the name of the god contains the element "Name". The god has a blessed name, which enables him to effectively bring blessing, mercy and compassion to people, and what is more "forever". It would be futile, and even erroneous, to wonder "who is hiding" behind this name: "Blessed be his name for eternity" expresses, in its own way, in a culturally coded language, the nature and function of the divine entity that human agents deliberately mobilise with these words. "Blessed be his name for eternity" is not the odd invention of an original Palmyrene Arcimboldo; it is a commonly used divine name, well established in the local religious landscape, which corresponds to a subtle strategy that exalts the power of the name without entirely revealing the identity of the god. In the bilingual texts of Palmyra,<sup>58</sup> its Greek correspondent is often Zeus Hupsistos kai Epekoos, a prestigious and caring god, welcoming

Porzia 2020; see also the section in this volume on "Names and Knowledge", 585–704.

Kubiak-Schneider 2021.

PAT 340a = DB MAP S#278; 340b = DB MAP S#1725; 340c = DB MAP S#1727; 344 = DB MAP S#1140; 377 = DB MAP S#1441; 412 = DB MAP S#7359; 1559 = DB MAP S#6423; 2755 = DB MAP S#8834; 2764 = DB MAP S#2558.

and benevolent, with a precise name and identity. To sum up, the name is at the very heart of the interaction between men and gods, and aims to "describe" the god in different ways.

#### 3.3 Appropriate

Any act of human naming presupposes a form of "manipulation" of the gods. We have seen how it works for the onomastic elements linked to space. But there are many other ways to appropriate the gods through their names. Designating a god using an anthroponym seems to represent the climax of appropriation. Let us now look more closely to the "god of X" onomastic sequences, where X is a man or a woman. We will discover a much richer and subtler relational process than at first appears.

Giuseppina Marano and I recently studied the case of the "gods of X" in Syria.<sup>59</sup> There are 32 inscriptions of that type between the second and the fourth century CE. They come from rural contexts of Mount Lebanon and the Hawran, which present a similar structure: autonomous villages grouped around their sanctuaries, with a (high) priest at their head, and powerful notables who play a major role in the life of the community. The different "gods of X" thus refer to a double dynamic, both personal and collective, which should not be dissociated, but rather articulated. In fact, some inscriptions clarify the interconnected roles of the god and local benefactors in social and religious affairs. Let us consider the case of the set of 13 inscriptions mentioning the "god of Aumos" in the Hawran, more precisely in some villages of the Trachonitis, and 4 later inscriptions from Deir al-Leben. Most of the dedicants are magistrates (pistoi, "curators", pronoetai "administrators"), associations or groups, such as koina, and even entire komai, "villages", which point to a large social environment, and not a private, personal cult. For example, the inscription of Duweiri, west of Suweyda, recalls the construction of a barn used by several villages in 326 CE, under the supervision of the pistoi of the god of Aumos:<sup>60</sup>

Under the consulate of our Lord Constantine Augustus for the seventh time and of Constantius Most Noble Caesar for the first time, under the supervision of Amelathos, priest (?), and of Chasetos, son of Rufinus, of the village of Harran and of Symmachus, son of Philip, of the village of Agraina, pistoi of the god of Aumos, were built a barn and the boundary wall.

The text suggests that in each village, a temple was dedicated to the god of Aumos,61 who is sometimes designated as πατρῷος, "ancestral". All these attestations, dating from between the II and the IV century, reveal that Aumos was initially a prominent

Marano/Bonnet, in press.

IGLS 15.254 = DB MAP S#1728.

IGLS 15.259 = DB MAP S#1769; IGLS 15.275–276 = DB MAP S#1770–1771.

figure in his village and that he founded a sanctuary for the local god, who was designated as theos Aumou, a name that reminded of his cultic commitment. Similar cases are attested for Maleichathos, Rabbos or Loaithemos. The local, ancestral cult, connected to a member of the elite who financed ritual activities for the sake of the whole village, gradually became a regional cult. It even aimed to gain an international audience by associating "global" gods, such as Zeus Aniketos Helios, the Greek counterpart of Sol Invictus, the betyl god of Emesa, whose cult was promoted by Heliogabalus (218–222) and experienced a revival in the Constantinian age. In fact, in Damatha, dedications are later made to the "Unconquered God of Aumos" <sup>62</sup> by the entire koinon of Damatha and a group of pistoi. Through his expanded name, the god of Aumos became close to Zeus himself. In Deir al-Leben, finally, different villages and tribes built an aule and the peribolos of "Zeus Unconquered Helios God of Aumos" (Διὸς Ἀνικήτου Ἡλίου θεοῦ Αυμου), in an inscription dating to 320 CE.63

In other cases, the name of the founder attached to the god refers to a particular experience at the origin of the cult. In Apamene,<sup>64</sup> local Zeuses are well attested, often connected with heights and designated by means of a toponym or a topographical epithet, such as κορυφαῖος, "Of the top". <sup>65</sup> In the inscription IGLS 4.1410, from the village of Frikya, a "god of Arkesilaos" is attested in a funerary context. A tomb, dating to 325 CE, richly decorated with rock carvings and inscriptions (IGLS 4.1409–1415) belongs to Abedrapsas, son of Dionysios. He commemorates the fact that his ancestral god, "the god of Arkesilaos" (ὁ πατρῷός μου θεὸς Ἀρκεσιλάου), appeared to him twice to favour his artistic business. The six reliefs decorating the mausoleum depict the dead and his whole family. The inscription emphasises the very intimate relation the deceased shared with the god, who is "his" god, who provides him with personal support, but also protected the whole lineage. In the nearby village of Mghara, an unpublished inscription from another tomb, dated 256 CE, refers to the priestly career of Aurelios Abdes Barathe, who was successively prophet, priest and high priest of the god of Arkesilaos. A second inscription addresses the god with the name of Zeus. Again, originating from a private foundation due to an unknown Arkesilaos, the cult of the "god of Arkesilaos" was then fully integrated into the collective religious landscape of the area. The god became the protector of the whole community, an epiphanic and oracular god, like the great Zeus Belos in the prestigious urban centre of Apamea.<sup>66</sup> In the neighbouring village of Schnaan, an unpublished inscription mentions "the gods of Arkesilaos" in the plural, which suggests that the original figure was declined into many different local figures.

IGLS 15.298–299 = DB MAP S#1873–1889, with almost the same inscription. The datation is uncertain.

IGLS 16.25–27 = DB MAP S#6247–6249–6250.

On this area, see Balty/Balty 2014.

IGLS 2.652, 3 = DB MAP S#2632; IGLS 2.1184 = DB MAP S#2733.

Balty 1997.

Appropriation is thus a complex process, which involves different levels of agency and spatial scales. A divine name built with a human name is not simply a matter of personal, individual perspective. It makes sense within a collective framework, where the foundation of a cult and the financial support provided by a member of the local elite adds both distinction and cohesion. The private initiative encompasses, since the very beginning, social and territorial strategies, which may lead to significant evolutions in the naming process over time. The diffusion of the cult and the integration of new cross-cultural or "global" horizons contribute to reshaping the onomastic identity of the god, who is appropriated by different agents and gains new territories.

In light of these considerations, let us pay attention to various passages in the Old and New Testaments where the "god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob" is mentioned.<sup>67</sup> In Exodus, chapter 3, in the scene of the burning bush, which is of course a divine epiphany, Moses becomes acquainted with the one who presents himself as "the god of your father, the god of Abraham, the god of Isaac and the god of Jacob" (3:6). In 3:13, Moses accepts his mission to lead the people out of Egypt, but he adds: "I will therefore go to the Israelites and say to them: 'The god of your fathers has sent me to you'. But, if they ask me what his name is, then what shall I tell them?" In response to which, the god replies with a very enigmatic name: "I am who I am", which can be translated in various other ways.<sup>68</sup> In 3:15, he explains it that way: "You will say the following to the Israelites: 'The Lord, the god of your fathers, the god of Abraham, the god of Isaac and the god of Jacob, has sent me to you. This is my name forever, the name you shall call me from generation to generation.' "<sup>69</sup> Moreover, Yahweh suggests to Moses a series of miraculous acts in order to convince the people and give authority to his name; these miracles recall what the fishermen witnessed in Ainos to convince themselves that the divine was at work in the piece of scrap wood. Yahweh says: "take some water from the Nile and pour it on the dry ground. The water you take from the river will become blood on the ground." (4:9). In another context, we observe an inverse dynamic, which sees a god giving his name to a man and not an anthroponym serving to designate a god; in Genesis 32:25–35, Jacob struggles with a "man" all night, right through to dawn. Unable to assert himself, the opponent strikes Jacob in the crook of the hip, then once the sun has risen, he gives up, while Jacob, aware that he is dealing with a superhuman entity, asks him for a blessing.

28 The man asks: "What is your name?" He replies: "Jacob."

29 He continues: "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel ("god of combat"), because you have fought with God and with men and have won."

30 Jacob requests: "Please tell me your name." But he replies: "Why do you ask my name?" Then he blesses him.

See, for example, Mt 22:32.

Porzia 2021.

The expression is reinforced again in Ex 3:16 and in 4:5.

31 Jacob named the place Peniel (which means "face of God"), for he said, "I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared."

32 The sun rose above him as he passed by Peniel. He was limping because of his hip.

In this passage, the onomastic porosity is very strong; it permeates men, places, practices and gods. On the one hand, the god who manifests himself to Moses legitimises his power and his action by referring to the lineage who inaugurated his worship. His identity is part of a long history, that of a family, a tribe, a people; the "children" of Israel are called to follow "the god of the fathers". The name under which Yahweh presents himself is the sign of a transmission that consolidates his power, manifested by epiphanies and miracles, and a daily accompaniment through many vicissitudes. On the other hand, the name of Jacob, alias "Israel", becomes the symbol of the capacity of men to vanquish with the help of god, like the qualification of Aniketos, attached to the god of Aumos. In these names, divine and human intertwined, no one perceives the scent of the rose, but rather a whole palette of bouquets, which evoke memories, flavours, values, and the comfort of divine protection in the harshness of daily struggles. There is a world, a whole narrative (αἶνος), challenging enigmas, which we will now continue to explore.

#### 3.4 Connect

How can we account for the Mediterranean dimension of the networks of gods? How may a typology of divine names shed light on the onomastic logics that link, connect, sketch out families or fields of expertise? Let us start by looking at kinship links, translated by names. The works of anthropologists and, for Antiquity, those of Jérôme Wilgaux70 and Maurizio Bettini,71 on the "elementary structures of kinship" highlight their profound implications on the relational framework of the social life; that of the gods is no exception to the rule. As Bernard Vernier writes, attention must be paid to the "rules of naming and likeness, which constitute two modes of symbolic appropriation of children and intervene in various relationships with the principle of filiation", because they "contribute to defining the plural identity of people." <sup>72</sup> Even if the gods are not reducible to "people", many are the onomastic elements which express a reticular divine kinship, able to bring closer or distance, a little like the name Montague, which, as Juliette knows well, is, and is not, consubstantial with Romeo ("After all, thou art thyself, and not a Montague"). So, as she wonders "What is a Montague?", it is possible to search among the 176 Greek and Semitic elements in the MAP database attached to the category "Kinship/domestic"; what is exactly the meaning of Kronid

Bresson 2006, in particular Wilgaux 2006. See also Bonnard 2004.

Bettini 2009; Rawson 2010.

Vernier 2006.

(not to be confused with Kronios and Kronion), Alceid, Melanthid, Atlantis, Letoid, Nereid, Ouranid, Asclepiad . . .? In some onomastic sequences, in specific contexts, a god or a goddess may be called "son" or "daughter of": the Nymphs, for instance, are daughters of the waters just as Hermes is son of Zeus and Pan, son of Hermes, or Athena, the Dios ko(u)re par excellence and Kore, the "Daughter" of her mother by antonomasia. The Greek onomastic sequence "Horus Son of Isis and Osiris, who defended his Father Osiris" (Ὧρος ὁ τῆς Ἴσιος καὶ Ὀσίριος υἱός, ὁ ἐπαμύνας τῶι πατρὶ αὐτοῦ Ὀσίρει), attested in Sais and Leontopolis,73 contains a micro-narrative the scope of which is easier to understand bearing in mind that it appears in the famous Decree of Memphis emanating from King Ptolemy V Epiphanes in 197/6 BCE and engraved on the Rosetta Stone. The king ascended the throne at the age of five or six, in 204, upon the death of his father Ptolemy IV. His mother, Arsinoe III, the regent, was assassinated soon after by would-be usurpers, but, having come of age in 197/6, the king was crowned in Memphis, the city of Ptah. This is why, from the prologue of the decree, Hephaistos is mentioned, in the Greek version of the text (also available in hieroglyphic and demotic Egyptian), within the royal titulary, as "Hephaistos the Great, King of the Regions from top to bottom". The pharaoh is also qualified as "Living Image of Zeus, son of Helios", that is of Amun son of Re.74 In the passage which commemorates the coronation feast celebrated by "the high priests and prophets, and those who enter the inner shrine in order to robe the gods, and those who wear the hawk's wing, and the sacred scribes, and all the other priests who have assembled at Memphis before the king", a long series of recitals legitimises the new king:

Whereas king Ptolemy, the ever-living, the beloved of Ptah, the god Epiphanes Eucharistos, the son of King Ptolemy and Queen Arsinoe, the Gods Philopatores, has been a benefactor both to the temples and to those who dwell in them, as well as all those who are his subjects, being a god sprung from a god and goddess, like Horus the son of Isis and Osiris, who avenged his father Osiris, (and) being benevolently disposed towards the gods, has dedicated to the temples revenues in money and corn and has undertaken much outlay to bring Egypt into prosperity, and to establish the temples, and has been generous with all his own means.

The onomastic sequence relating to Horus, descendant of Isis and Osiris and defender of his father, obviously refers to the circumstances in which Ptolemy V came to the throne. The text emphasises his double filiation: he is the son of Ptolemy IV and Arsinoe, but he is also the divine son of Isis and Osiris, perfectly legitimate for exercising sovereign power over Egypt and showing a benevolent and generous attitude towards the gods, their temples and their powerful employees. As in the oaths or the hymns mentioned above, a pact is formalised between the gods, the king and the inhabitants, which includes rights and duties. The language of kinship is used here to effectively

DB MAP T#7232 (Rosetta Stone) and DB MAP T# 7293 (copy).

Note that in line 16 of the same text, the god is also designated as Phtha in Greek, without interpretatio.

express this network by playing on a double register of kinship inscribed at the heart of political and religious practices intertwined. The images of the pharaoh will be established in each sanctuary, ἐν τῶι ἐπιφανεστάτωι τόπωι "in the most visible place", next to the κυριώτατος θεὸς τοῦ ἱεροῦ, "the supreme master of the sanctuary", called "Ptolemy the defender of Egypt" and will be equipped with weapons provided by the gods, in order to seal the pact and "explain" it visually.

Kinship onomastic elements are also used to construct divine families, as is the case, in Aramaic, for Maran, Martan and Barmaryn, respectively "Our Lord", "Our Lady" and "The Son of our Lords", attested sometimes separately, sometimes as a couple and sometimes as a triad, especially in Hatra and Assur. Originally, mrn is most certainly a title conferred on the principal god of Hatra, Shamash, the sun god. Later or at the same time, mrn, Maran, is used as a theonym specified through other onomastic elements, such as Gd, "Fortune", in the sense that he is the protector of the place. He is also called Eagle and connected with Nabu, his scribe. Together, they are referred to as "great gods". Another configuration associates "Maran and Martan and Nergal the chief of the guards".

Other onomastic elements aim to highlight elective affinities, even within the same family. The vast kinship of Zeus,75 which includes many children, conceived with various mothers, is a galaxy within the Greek divine world. However, if we scrutinise the onomastic associations of Zeus with certain children, and the way in which they share, or do not share, a common qualification underlining the bond of kinship, it becomes clear that the relationship with Athena is perceived and represented in a very unique way. Sticking to the testimonies in the MAP database containing only 2 divine powers (regardless of the number of onomastic elements), we find 297 of them containing Zeus and Athena, a large majority of which have a shared epithet, such as Kunthios/Kunthia, Phratrios/Phratria, Amarios/Amaria, Boulaios/Boulaia, Horios/Horia, Apotropaios/Apotropaia, Phemios/Phemia, Soter/Soteira, Polieus/Polias (feminine first only in Lindos), Pantheios/Pantheia, Hupellaios/Hupellaia, Hellenios/Hellenia, etc. At this stage of the registration in the database, only 5 testimonies connect Zeus and Apollo (alone), never with the same qualification; 6 with Aphrodite, of which only once, at Epidauros, with the common qualification of milichios, "sweet, mild"; 2 with Artemis under different qualifications; 1 with Hermes, without sharing. This is a very peculiar and significant management of onomastic kinship.

Onomastic resources can also be used to trace the outlines of a functional network. Let us consider the broad semantic sphere of wealth and abundance as expressed in the onomastic panoply of deities; there are indeed several dozen elements that fall into this domain, in particular those which, in Greek, are formed with the verbs "to give", "to bring". Many different things are supplied, provided or brought by the gods:76 a bow, an arrow, a whip, a club, weapons, light, fire, a torch, gold, fruits,

Cf. Bonanno/Bonnet, forthcoming.

Some of these divine names probably (also) refer to iconographic types.

apples, ivy, laurel, wheat, shoots, branches, pastures, water, abundance, seasons, victory, health, laws, sleep, dreams, charis, life, in short, diverse and varied goods.<sup>77</sup> We are dealing here with the very foundation of the interaction between men and the divine powers. The objective is to ensure a better life and gain a little mastery over the contingencies linked to nature, the cosmos, the human relationships. If this general principle is undoubtedly correct, upon closer inspection, it appears that not all the gods act in the same way on this level or are not equally responsible for supplying humans with goods of all kinds. In his study on the karpophoroi gods and related names,78 Sylvain Lebreton notes the absence of the "heavyweights" of Greek polytheism, such as Apollo, Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite, seldomly mobilised to ensure the harvests, although sometimes associated with plant epithets. He therefore suggests distinguishing between "two phases of plant growth, each associated with different divine powers: that of twigs, young shoots, flowers, prior to fruiting, during which Apollo, Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite would notably intervene; that of the fruits, the production, for which other deities are summoned". <sup>79</sup> In contrast, it is Zeus, Demeter, Ge and Dionysos who are most frequently referred to as the gods watching over the fruits of the earth, from production to growth and harvesting, from the beauty of the fruits to their abundance and quality.80 The variety of onomastic elements reflects the segmentation of action, as John Scheid has shown for the Roman world,<sup>81</sup> a process that raises the delicate question, tackled on the tragic scene, of human versus divine action and the relative autonomy of the former.<sup>82</sup>

If one logically expects Doter Hugieias, "Health-dispenser", to be reserved for Asclepios and that the Hoplophoros, "Armsbearer", is Pallas while the Hoplophulax, "Guardian of weapons", is Heracles, on the other hand, it is not Aphrodite who is Chrusophoros, "Gold-bearer" but Homonoia, while it is Pan, in Egypt, who is Chrusodotes, "Gold-dispenser". In fact, like the Egyptian Min, he opens the way leading to the desert and its fabulous resources.<sup>83</sup> While we easily identify Artemis, Hecate, Helios

There is no evidence that the gods are credited with bringing death, although an Apollo Oulios ("fatal, mortal") is attested. On this epithet, see infra, p. 222‒224.

Lebreton 2019.

Lebreton 2019, 146.

Interesting, in this regard, is the inscription of Didyma, dated between 284 and 305 CE (I.Didyma 504 = DB MAP S#12966), which records the consultation of the local oracle, through the prophet Damianos, regarding the erection of an altar dedicated to Kore Sotira (the "beloved sister" of Apollo, the request states) near the altar of Demeter Karpophoros. Apollo replied, in hexameters, that he agreed to an altar dedicated to Kore next to the altar of Demeter Karpotrophos ("Who feeds the fruit"), with confusion over the epithet, possibly due to the lapicide, unless it was the tongue of Damianos or Apollo himself that forked! Nevertheless, there is a small nuance between the one who brings the fruits and the one who makes them grow.

Scheid 2009.

Mishliborsky 2019.

Volokhine 2011; Bonnet/Galoppin 2021.

and Men in the epithet Phosphoros, "Light-bringer", this element is also used with Zeus. As with fruits, bringing light to men can reflect very different contexts and skills.

On the Semitic side, the Aramaic inscription of Tell Fekherye, dating from around 825 BCE and engraved on a statue of the King of Guzana, commemorates an offering made "before Hadad of Sikan, controller of the irrigation of heaven and earth" and recalls that "he brings abundance and provides pasture and water points for all the lands, and gives portions (of meat) and offerings (liquids) for all the gods his brothers"; the text continues: "controller of the irrigation of all the rivers, he makes all the lands prosperous, merciful god whose prayer is good, dweller in Sikan, great lord, lord of Haddysi". Hadad, like Zeus, is describes through complex onomastic sequences as the quintessential benefactor of men. To conclude this all-too-brief exploration of the field of divine generosity, an honorary Attic inscription, dating from the end of the 2nd or the beginning of the 3rd century CE, celebrates, on the base of a marble acephalous Hermes, Jason son of Zethos, alias Logismos, and his devotion to the gods. In addition to the fact that he was zakoros of Asclepios and Hygieia, Jason carries the title of priest of "Hermes At the gate and Dispensor-of-charis, and Cultivated Land, and Desire" (Ἑρμοῦ Πυλήτου καὶ Χαριδώτου καὶ Γῆς Ἡμέρου καὶ Πόθου).<sup>84</sup> This magnificent polytheistic phrase associates divine powers "working" together; Hermes is, in the two Homeric Hymns dedicated to him, "dispenser of charis", <sup>85</sup> a god who lavishes wealth and promotes exchanges. On the other hand, Hermes is also often Chthonios, "of the earth", the fertile humus,86 just as Ge, the Earth, is also Chthonia, while Pothos, Desire is generally attached to the sphere of Aphrodite and sexuality. A flexible but in no way random onomastic language gives birth to sophisticated arrangements of constantly reconfigured networks. Those who forged and used divine names of this kind constructed their religious landscape and expressed their vision of a world in which the divine powers, near and far, beneficent or terrifying, were inescapable interlocutors.

#### 3.5 Praise/Exalt

In the context of an offering, a dedicant can choice to address Eshmun without any title or qualification, or Hermes without adding one or more additional onomastic elements.

IG II2 3664 = DB MAP T#7891. Cf. Paus. (I.2.8) who mentions Hermes Propulaios at the entrance to the Acropolis alongside the Charites, perfectly compatible with Pothos, Aphrodite Pandemos being in fact located nearby. Also in Thasos, on the relief of the "Passage des Théores", Hermes and the Charites are associated (CGRN 17 B).

HH4, 574–575 ("Thus Anax Apollo loved the son of Maia with all his affection and additionally bestowed on him the charis"); HH18, 12 (charidota); the same verse describes him as dotor eaon, "giver of goods".

Almost 120 testimonies in the DB MAP.

Different motives can account for this option: economic reasons related to the cost of engraving, the generic (or non-specific) nature of the prayer addressed to the god, without targeting a particular aspect, local customs . . . Conversely, just as one can buy a bouquet of "simple" roses, or plant Rosa gallica officinalis or Château du Rivau in his garden, whose names evoke, for connoisseurs, colours, scents, and textures, a dedicant can also address "Eshmun Prince Saint of the Ydal spring" or "Hermes Enagonios" ("Of contests"). Creating an onomastic sequence with several elements – between 2 and 143 in the MAP database – provides the divine interlocutors with an appellation worthy of their time, their "dignity", as one would say in Greek. As the work of Claude Calame has shown,87 prayers, hymns correspond to an "act of song addressed to a divinity; the latter is praised and finally invoked in exchange for the benefits that are asked of it. The hymn performance thus corresponds to an offering that is both ritual and musical." The laudatory dimension inherent in any divine denomination, even the simplest, is amplified in the case of the Homeric hymns, that are vocative and narrative performances involving the enunciator and the god being addressed, within a poetic contract. From this perspective, Callimachus' Hymn to Artemis places polyonymy at the heart of the poem, as well as questions of rivalry between the goddess and her brother Apollo:88

Artemis we hymn—no light thing is it for singers to forget her—whose study is the bow and the shooting of hares and the spacious dance and sport upon the mountains; beginning with the time when sitting on her father's knees—still a little maid—she spake these words to her sire: "Give me to keep my maidenhood, Father, for ever: and give me to be of many names, that Phoebus may not vie with me. And give me arrows and a bow [. . .]. And give me sixty daughters of Oceanus for my choir—all nine years old, all maidens yet ungirdled; and give me for handmaidens twenty nymphs of Amnisus who shall tend well my buskins, and, when I shoot no more at lynx or stag, shall tend my swift hounds. And give to me all mountains; and for city, assign me any, even whatsoever thou wilt: for seldom is it that Artemis goes down to the town".

Zeus, great orderer of the divine world, is invoked here by the goddess to bestow a series of attributes on her testifying to her rank: functional attributes (bow, arrows), onomastic attributes (polyonymy), a propriety (virginity), as well as an entourage (Nymphs and Oceanids) and a territory (mountains and cities). It should be noted that Zeus grants all of his daughter's wishes and gives her the gift of thirteen cities which will bear her name, a gesture which underlines the importance of eponymy.

Unlike Artemis, Hades apparently keeps himself at a distance from the logic of onomastic gifts, although he received, in book 15 (187–193) of the Iliad, his share of time. His name and his power, in various forms, are frequently honoured in epitaphs. In his kingdom, joined by Persephone, daughter of Zeus, he watches over those who have experienced demise. Yet, death, "alone among the gods, desires no gifts. Nothing can be obtained from her, neither by offering sacrifices nor making libations. She has

Calame 2012.

Callim., Hymn 3.1–40 (italics are mine). On this text, see the analysis by Pisano 2021.

no altar and is not celebrated with songs." <sup>89</sup> This is why Hades, who reigns over the people of the dead, is distant from the usual logic of interaction with men. He is nonetheless Poluonumos, "With multiple names", in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (18), a polyonymy showing his relevant power and fame. The many names of Hades are also a resource for strategies of euphemism, even of avoiding for a particularly fearsome divine being. In terms of "polyonymy", the MAP database currently provides 10 Greek testimonies containing the element "polyonym", which have no counterparts in Semitic. A defixio of Jericho mentions "Ge Of the Earth and Hermes Of the Earth and Plouton and Persephone and Hecate Of many names and Artemis Bearer of light With Three faces Selene Face of a Calf and Calm and Oblivion and Desire and Envy and Night and Persuasion and Necessity and Moirai", <sup>90</sup> while in a Hymn of Narmouthis, Egypt, reference is made to a single goddess, Isis, who is also, incidentally, the only one along with Hecate to be Murionumos: "Immortal Saviour, Of many names, Most Great Isis, Who protects the cities and all the citizens and their spouses and their property and their beloved children from war". <sup>91</sup> We also come across a "Polyonymous Eye", probably Helios, in a Hymn to Apollo from Susa,92 Iran, while Artemis, Selene, Kore and Hecate are also described as "polyonymous". Upon closer inspection, except Artemis, they are not necessarily the deities most endowed with varied appellations; Zeus has many more and Kore, Selene and Hecate have relatively less. Therefore, the scope of this designation should be assessed not only quantitatively but also qualitatively. In the case of lunar powers like Selene or Hecate, linked to the Night, polyonymy expresses the plural and even universal character of a divine entity that is particularly difficult to grasp, present and absent, with different phases, as Thomas Galoppin showed in a recent article.93 The multiplication of forms and names attributed to the Moon is "ultimately, so many ways to approach and interact with it." 94

Among the 4,200 onomastic elements recorded in the MAP database, many are intrinsically or contextually related to the field of praise and exaltation. Different superlatives come to mind, like megistos, hupsistos, hupatos, epiphanestatos, aristos . . ., but also epithets such as: respectable, irreproachable, glorious, courageous, just, manifest, wise, powerful, holy, pure, undefeated, famous, precious, indestructible, beautiful, authentic, sovereign, noble, blessed. Elements categorised as "title" in the MAP database also play the role of amplifier of divine power, like ʾdn, mr' or bʿl (and the female counterparts) in Semitic, denoting gods or goddesses as "lord/lady, master, patron". The Greek terms kurios and despotes, recently studied by Nicole Belayche95 and overrepresented in

Æsch., fr. 279 Mette (= fr. 161 N.2 Radt2 ).

CIIP IV, 2837 (1st-2nd century CE) = DB MAP S#6467.

I.Égypte métriques 175 (1st century BCE-1st century CE) = DB MAP T#4327.

IG Iran Asie Centr. 33 = DB MAP T#9115.

Galoppin 2021.

Galoppin 2021, 80.

Belayche 2020.

the Greek-speaking East, have a similar function. The gods are also praised as "king" or "prince", in the same area, and of course as "god", a qualification which may seem tautological, but which underlines the quality of the person to whom a request is addressed; the logic is that of the captatio benevolentiae. These strategies, which could seem universal, even cognitively determined, are shaped by cultural uses. In Attica, out of a set of 2,186 testimonies in Greek,96 we find 373 which use the element θεός – in 149 inscriptions, however, theos appears in the formula καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις θεοῖς "and to the other gods", which therefore do not imply a title. In Egypt, there are 573 inscriptions with the onomastic element theos, out of a total of 1,294, and 272 in Syria, out of a total of 664 Greek inscriptions. The percentage is of 17% in Attica, 47% in Egypt and 41% in Syria. In this last region, we also find 190 testimonies using the onomastic elements 'l or 'lh, meaning "god" in Semitic out of a total of 599, that is about 30%. It is therefore probable that the Semitic habit of calling a god "god" influenced the recurrent use of theos in Greek dedications from the Near East. The study of a large set of divine names reveals structural, permanent, general trends, and forms of constraints or determinisms; they are also inspired by uses and traditions, they are linked to spaces and times, languages, socio-economic organisations, as well as collective representations. They echo and forge the relationships between men and gods with finesse and nuance.

If the variety of names, the poly-, even the myrionymy, serves to build the power and the complexity of the divine, another strategy deserves our attention: the construction of long, sometimes very long onomastic sequences, including, moreover, superlatives: "Big is beautiful"! Angelos Chaniotis baptised this process megatheism seeing it as an effect of competition between cults<sup>97</sup> while Robert Parker, in Greek Gods Abroad,<sup>98</sup> turns it into a characteristic trend of the Hellenistic and Roman era, under the influence of Eastern cults. This might be a terminology of the divine influenced by practices originating in Egypt and Syria, where the Greeks learned to exalt their deities using long, emphatic statements, which end up becoming incomprehensible, opening the door to Christian apologists and their attacks against an insane polytheistic system. The MAP database allows us to put this reading to the test.

The 635 testimonies in Semitic languages from Syria contain sequences ranging from 2 to 31 elements. Only 6 of them (1%) contain 10 or more elements; with the exception of one, dating from the 2nd century CE, they all pre-date the Christian era, and even 600 BCE. In the same region, if we look at the testimonies in the Greek language, of which there are 664, they include between 2 and 143 elements, of which only 6, again, are made up of 10 or more elements; with the exception of one, they date above all from the Christian era, bearing in mind that less than 10% of the Syrian cor-

As a reminder, the testimonies of divine onomastic sequences containing at least two elements, therefore a targeted corpus.

Chaniotis 2010.

Parker 2017.

pus predates the Christian era. On the Egyptian side, among the 1,294 inscriptions in Greek, comprising between 2 and 38 elements, there are 36 that include at least 10 elements, half of which are defixiones; <sup>99</sup> most are from the Roman period, but a few also date from the late Hellenistic period. Does it mean that these practises, already very rare in Egypt and the Near East, and fundamentally linked to the nature of the inscriptions – defixiones, hymns, acclamations – had a significant impact in Greece, notably Attica? Among the 2,186 Attic testimonies, containing between 2 and 26 elements, only 23 contain 10 or more elements, that is, 1.09%. They span between the very end of the 5th century, or rather the 4th century BCE, until Roman times, without, however, a clear trend being observed during a given period. What's more, these 23 testimonies are very coherent from a typological point of view since they are largely defixiones, plus a few oaths, lists, and prayers. The superlatives are not particularly numerous there. In the MAP database, the superlative element Aristos appears 6 times, including 2 inscriptions containing divine onomastic sequences with more than 10 elements, while Epiphanestatos is attested 40 times, mostly at Stratonicea, only once with more than 10 elements (in an honorary inscription).100 Epiphanestatos is combined with Megistos 26 times, including over 20 times at Stratonicea, and no testimony is made up of more than 6 elements. However, the MAP database still needs to be completed for Asia Minor where, in the imperial period, long emphatic formulas are more numerous, not under the effect of an Anatolian influence, but of the phraseology of honorary inscriptions. They use titles that are largely their own101 but they nevertheless encourage, by imitation, dressing the gods with qualifications as if they were pearls, as they do with the leaders or the cities.

Long divine onomastic sequences are generally very rare and do not really testify to a tidal wave which, from Alexandria or Seleucia, would reach Cape Sounion or the Macedonian shores. Praising, exalting the gods basically meets a need for publicity in a context of competition that is more appropriate to read on a regional or local scale (between Zeus and Hecate at Stratonicea, for example) than a Mediterranean scale.

# 4 Conclusion

The typology that I have just outlined out in no way exhausts the semantic and classificatory potential of divine names. It nevertheless shows the richness and complexity, morphological and syntactic, which emerge from the organisation into a system at various scales, from the plurality and fluidity of the divine powers, from the multi-

It should be noted that certain defixiones are on papyrus and are therefore not yet accessible in the DB MAP.

Cf. Nicole Belayche's contribution in this volume, 435–461.

Cf. Anna Heller's contribution in this volume, 551–568.

tude of pragmatic strategies engages by the human actors, and from the historical, legal, economic, political social, moral contexts in which men and gods interact. Each single divine name, in the simplicity or complexity of its composition, is the index of knowledge and know-how on the part of individual and collective agents, often connected with a collective memory, a "mnemonymy", one could say, to echo Halbwachs' "mnemotopy". Following Herodotus (II.53), which puts the emphasis on the work of the poets, Homer and Hesiod, it is worth paying attention to the many gods' eponumiai, that reflect functions and forms, and made the divine accessible to men. As several narratives, including the one about Hermes Perpheraios prove, naming is the decisive step that enables the establishment of a cult and interaction with the divine power (almost) clearly identified, recognised, and therefore honoured.<sup>102</sup> Nobody, in Greece, would have apostrophised Zeus, like Juliet does, saying to him: "Thou art thyself, not a Zeus. What is a Zeus? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a god. Oh! Be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet; So Zeus would, were he not Zeus call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes. Zeus, doff thy name!"

Conversely, the name is a Pandora's box available to men, who lift the lid and let out a thousand and one conjectures, etymologies, narratives, myriads of onomastic elements, which contribute to defining the fragrance and flavour of the divine powers. In Cleanthes' Hymn to Zeus, probably from early 3rd century BCE, the Stoic philosopher and poet asserts that men are born from Zeus "with, as their lot, a voice that reproduces you (= Zeus)" (ἤχου μίμημα λαχόντες), a human capacity that allows the poet to sing the power of the god in his hymn. He ends saying: "since there can be no greater glory for men or gods than this, duly to praise forever the Universal Law" (κοινὸν νόμον). Divine names are therefore much more than mere ornaments; they are an integral part of the divine power that resonates in the cosmos and ensures its harmony. They are, as Democritus asserts,103 ἀγάλματα φωνήεντα: literally "sounding images/offerings", agalmata gifted with speech, representations which say what the gods are, speaking "objects" which are offered to the gods and which, ultimately, allow them to exist among men.

The seven sections in this volume offer a very open exploration of the main issues related to naming the gods. Specialists from various disciplines and multiple backgrounds were invited to consider configurations, knowledge, ritual practices, images, forms of agency, etc., in dialogue with the MAP database and the MAP project researchers; these exchanges gave rise to a four-day meeting in Toulouse in October 2022, which allowed for lengthy discussions on each other's lines of analysis. This work is ultimately a choral agalma phoneeis, which constitutes the culmination of a collective scientific

It is worth mentioning that, in the story of Callimachus and in so many others, the appointment process itself is never explained, it is not specified who appoints Hermes Perpheraios and at what precise moment. See on this issue Alaya Palamidis' contribution, in this volume, 591–619.

Democr. (B 142 Diels-Kranz, apud Olympiod., in Plat. Phileb. 2, 242 Stalb). I thank Alaya Palamidis who drew my attention to this passage.

adventure. In this Introduction, I am only the spokesperson, just like Hermes Charidotes who opens the door.

# Bibliography

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Balty, Janine (1997), "Le sanctuaire oraculaire de Zeus Bêlos à Apamée", in: Topoi 7/2, 791–799.

Balty, Janine / Balty Jean-Charles, (2014), Apamée et l'Apamène antique. Scripta varia historica (Académie royale de Belgique. Mémoires de la Classe des Lettres in-4°, 3<sup>e</sup> sér. 2), Bruxelles.

Beck, Hans (2020), Localism and the Ancient Greek City-State, Chicago (Ill.).


Bettini, Maurizio (2009), Affari di famiglia. La parentela nella cultura e nella letteratura antica, Bologna. Bonanno, Daniela, Bonnet, Corinne (forthcoming), "Zeus en famille : regards onomastiques sur un système de parenté", in: Arys.

Bonnard, Jean-Baptiste (2004), Le complexe de Zeus. Représentations de la paternité en Grèce ancienne, Paris. Bonnet, Corinne (2009), "Le visage et le nom. Réflexions sur les interfaces divines à la lumière de la

documentation proche-orientale", in: Lydie Bodiou / Véronique Mehl (eds.), Chemin faisant : Mythes, cultes et société en Grèce ancienne. Mélanges en l'honneur de Pierre Brulé, Rennes, 205–214. <http://books.openedition.org/pur/103019>. ISBN: 9782753566965. DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/ books.pur.103019.

Bonnet, Corinne (dir.) (2021), Noms de dieux. Portraits de divinités antiques, Toulouse.

Bonnet, Corinne et al. (eds.) (2017), Puissances divines à l'épreuve du comparatisme. Constructions, variations et réseaux relationnels, Turnhout.


<http://books.openedition.org/editionsehess/2667>. ISBN : 9782713226083. DOI : https://doi.org/10. 4000/books.editionsehess.2667


— (2009), Comparer l'incomparable, Paris.


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Part 1: Ritual Names: Communication with the Divine and Human Agency

# Andrei Timotin and Karel van der Toorn Introduction

According to an old biblical rule, the god of the Israelites did not care for a sumptuous altar. "You need make for me only an altar of earth and sacrifice on it your burnt offerings (. . .). In every place where you call out my name, I will come to you and bless you" (Exod. 20:21 [ET 24]). A later scribal editor took offense at this and corrected the text slightly to read "in every place where I cause my name to be remembered," as now translated by the NRSV [= New Revised Standard Version]. But one thing is unmistakable. "Calling out [the] name" (hizkîr <sup>ᴐ</sup> et-šĕmî) is the central rite, the offering being the appropriate accompaniment to the speech act. The Hebrew phrase echoes an expression that was common to most of the ancient Near East. In Mesopotamia, Syria and Egypt, the central act of worship was the invocation of the name of the deity. In Babylonia and Assyria, the customary phrase was šūma zakāru, a verb that yielded the name zukru ("invocation") for one of the main religious festivals at Emar.<sup>1</sup> In all of these cases, the invocation served as an invitation to the deities to come out from their usual habitat – heaven above, a distant mountain, the inner sanctum of the temple – and present themselves at the very place of the ritual performance.

# 1 Invocation as Conjuration

Through the ritual invocation of the divine name, then, the gods were believed to cross the distance that normally separated them from humans. "I call you from afar, hear me from nearby," as a standard Mesopotamian prayer phrase puts it.2 Worshippers who invoked the name wanted to achieve something. They wanted to do things with words and, in turn, they wanted their words to do something too. That something was, in most cases, to conjure up the presence of the deity in order to receive a blessing of sorts. There is a rather striking correspondence between the cultic invocation of the gods and the ritual invocation of the ancestors. Both Ugaritic and Hebrew texts say that it is a son's duty to set up a stela for his deceased father and to "call out his name." <sup>3</sup> In Mesopotamia, the son who succeeds his father in the role of paterfamilias is referred to as the zākir šumi, "the one who invokes the name." The title derives its meaning from the funerary cult in which the leader of the family group calls upon

For the expression šūma zakāru, see Chicago Assyrian Dictionary 21, 17–18, s.v. zakāru A, 2. For the Emar zukru ritual, see Fleming 2000, 120–124.

See Mayer 1976, 130.

See Keilschrifttexte aus Ugarit 1.17.i.26–27 and parallels; 2 Sam. 18:18.

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-002

the family's dead relatives to come up from the netherworld, partake of their food offerings and bless their descendants.4

The conjuration of either the ancestors or the gods – both of them beings from a realm beyond – is, in more ways than one, a delicate enterprise. One reason is rather prosaic, since it concerns the issue of the correct addressee. This is why the name by which the deity is invoked will often be followed by an epithet referring to the god's abode. There is no redundancy here. The god's address is an essential ingredient of the deity's identity. Baal Zaphon, i.e. the Baal from Mount Zaphon, is not the same as Baal Ugarit, i.e. the Baal of the city of Ugarit. In the same vein, the Israelite god Yaho (whose name is conventionally written as Yhwh) has multiple avatars, such as Yaho-of-Samaria, Yaho-of-Teman (both names known from the inscriptions of Kuntillet Ajrud), Yaho-whodwells-in-Zion (Ps 9:12[11]; 99:2) and Yaho-in-Hebron (2 Sam. 15:7).5 Such instances of divine multiplicity are characteristic of many Near Eastern gods: the proper name needs the complement of an address to make sure the invocation reaches the right recipient. The equivalent with respect to the invocation of the ancestors is an indication of their burial place.6

Another way to identify the god other than by name alone is through onomastic attributes. Identification using attributes borders here on enticement through praise or flattery. It is all part of the repertoire worshippers have at their disposal to encourage the superior powers to come to their aid. Names and attributes are very close. In fact, divine epithets such as "Lord" or "Lady" have a tendency to evolve into proper names, as the cases of Bel and Baal on the male side, and Belet and Baalat on the female, demonstrate.

### 2 The Power of Ritual Names

Conjuration by invocation is also a delicate matter for another, less prosaic, reason. Humans depend on deities and ancestors (semi-gods in their own right). They invoke them to obtain their blessing and that blessing is essential for human happiness. But the pursuit of happiness through the invocation of gods could easily be perceived as a reversal of the balance of dependence. Knowledge of the proper ritual name confers power. The public pronunciation of the ritual name might seem to force the gods to come out of their own world, or at least to foster their "presentification." In fact, human beings do not have the capacity to constrain gods; as ritual agents, individual or collective, they rather resort to creativity in naming and invoking divine power

See Finkelstein 1966, 95–118.

For the Kuntillet Ajrud texts, see Context of Scripture 2.47. For a fruitful discussion of the distinct local forms of Yaho and other gods, see McCarter, Jr. 1987, 139–143.

Note for instance the invocation of "Sin-eribam son of Ipqu-Aya, who sleeps in Mashkan-Adad" in the funerary offering text studied by Wilcke 1983, 49–54.

(see the chapters by Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui and Theodora Jim), or they conceive relevant settings to host the gods' presence (see the chapters by Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel and Jutta Jokiranta). In other contexts, ritual names are considered relevant and efficient because they are fixed by a long tradition, established by the authorities (e.g. the polis or the priests of a specific sanctuary) or even subject to a strict administrative procedure, as in China. Especially in combination with the offering of a gift – food, incense, and the like – the invocation may feel like a form of domestication or appropriation. "You can teach your god to follow you like a dog," as a Babylonian wisdom text puts it, referring to the use of sacrifice (see Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel).<sup>7</sup> This power over the (always more powerful) gods also embraces power over demons, though the conjuration, in their case, is primarily designed to send them away. The contribution by Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel, on Writing Divine Names in Ritual Practices of Ancient Mesopotamia, illustrates this principle by focusing on incantations against the Mesopotamian baby-snatching demon Lamashtu. In a way, the fact that these incantations were written increases the human hold over the demon. Amulets do magical things with performative names – although magic and religion are hard to disentangle.

The invocation of ritual names could conceivably be seen to border on blasphemy. This is the reason why the biblical warning not to "invoke God's name in vain" (Exod. 20:7) has led to the Jewish practice of refraining from pronouncing God's name altogether. Jutta Jokiranta, in her contribution on Ritual Setting and Communication with the Divine in the Dead Sea Scrolls, studies early examples of this phenomenon. She shows that the taboo attached to the divine name could be extended to the use of the more generic titles El and Elohim, especially in connection with false oaths. Elsewhere, worshippers were not pressed to push religious scruple to the point of avoiding the divine name altogether. Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui, in his contribution on Strategies for Naming the Gods in Greek Hymns, investigates the spectrum of nuances in the hymnic invocation of the divine names. The authors of hymns can display different strategies: selfconfidence or, on the contrary, the adoption of a humble attitude by emphasising their inability to name the divine. While the names and appellatives may be the usual ones, hymns can equally innovate the divine nomenclature. Through a combination of strategies, the worshippers who are expected to chant the hymn, charm the divine addressee(s) and the audience, seek to strike a balance between the recitation of time-honoured invocations and the invention of new titles, all in the interest of the most effective ritual performance. Henk Versnel's expression l'embarras du choix characterises the diversity of options faced by the composer of a Greek hymn and maybe any other agent involved in a ritual.

Lambert 1960, 148–149, "Dialogue of Pessimism," l. 60.

# 3 Divine Titles as a Token of Reciprocal Consideration

The issue of choosing the "right" names (as Plato states in the Cratylus) is crucial in ritual contexts. A comparative approach between the Greek sources and the exceptional amount of divine titles attested in China from the Song to the Ming dynasties (10th to 15th centuries CE) sheds light on their origin and functions. Theodora Suk Fong Jim's contribution on Divine Naming in Greek and Chinese Polytheism shows how Mazu's many titles conferred by the State were mainly honorific; they served more to praise the gods and emphasise their "social" status rather than to express a relevant aspect of their power, like the Greek onomastic attributes frequently do. This is why a Chinese god could receive new titles, meant to increase their prestige and display his/her rank. What is striking in the Chinese procedure is that divine names were regulated by public authorities: if a god was particularly effective in answering prayers, the central government could award them a title after a long and complex procedure. Ritual names were thus centralised and controlled; each Imperial edict recorded that the honorific title granted to a god(dess) required reciprocity. Therefore, Greece and China share, from that point of view, a common perspective: divine names express the human expectation that the power expressed in their titles will be used by the gods to bless, support and protect people.

# 4 Invoking the Gods in Prose

It is, perhaps, not superfluous to observe, in the slipstream of the discussion on Greek hymns, that highly ritualised intellectual practices like the exegetical commentary in Late Antiquity and the Neoplatonic theological discourse (e.g., in Proclus's Platonic Theology) have been equally understood as hymns in prose addressed to the gods.<sup>8</sup> This leads us to a consideration of ritual names in narrative discourse. In his contribution on Naming the Divine in Livy, Jörg Rüpke scrutinises the practice of invoking the gods in the mirror of narrative discourse, in particular that of Livy. Rüpke urges us to include an examination of invocations and discourse about the divine and divinities in prose texts to complement the study of ritual texts, even though in prose the naming of the gods is "a second-order activity" with respect to cultic performances. However, these echoed names certainly do reveal something about their reception history that ritual texts are unlikely to convey.

The study of ritual names therefore not only merely gives us an insight into the religious imagination of the ancient and classical worlds, but it also sheds light on the phenomenon of human interaction with an imagined reality. Like any belief system,

See Timotin 2017; Hoffmann 2020.

ancient religion was not just in the mind but also in the behavioural patterns of ritual agents. The etiquette of ritual invocation paints a picture that is telling about ancient self-perceptions and perception of the other. It will continue to be a significant area of research for a long time to come.

# Bibliography


Lambert, Wilfred G. (1960), Babylonian Wisdom Literature, Oxford.

Mayer, Werner R. (1976), Untersuchungen zur Formensprache der Babylonischen "Gebetsbeschwörungen", Rome. McCarter, P. Kyle Jr. (1987), "Aspects of the Religion of the Israelite Monarchy: Biblical and Epigraphic

Data", in: Patrick D. Miller, Jr. / Paul D. Hanson / S. Dean McBride (eds.), Ancient Israelite Religion, Philadelphia, 137–155.

Timotin, Andrei (2017), La prière dans la tradition néoplatonicienne, de Platon à Proclus, Turnhout.

Wilke, Claus (1983), "Nachlese zu A. Poebels Babylonian Legal and Business Documents. Teil I", in: Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 73, 48–66.

# Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel Writing Divine Names in Ritual Practices of Ancient Mesopotamia

Abstract: In this chapter, I will investigate the relationships between the names of divine agents and their writing down as part of the ritual procedure. The corpus consists mainly in prescriptive incantatory texts (first half of the 1st millennium BC), as well as curses in kudurru and royal inscriptions (end of the 2nd – first half of the 1st millennium BC). In order to fight against the terrifying demoness Lamaštu – the one who attacks infants and pregnant women – the Mesopotamian expert had a series of incantations at his disposal containing a detailed description of words to be pronounced and gestures to be made. He was invited to fashion several dog figurines from various materials and place them in different locations around the house. On their bodies, the expert inscribed their specific name, assigning a specific identity to each of the dogs. The ritual act of writing makes these ritual artefacts active and effective; it is deeply related to the materiality of the object, representing, and making the benevolent entities present in the ritual scene. A divine name is also understood for its vocal feature and must be pronounced. The cuneiform signs help to make this pronunciation eternal.

"When Heavens above were not named . . ." is the incipit – the very first words – of the well-known Babylonian epic of creation, the Enūma eliš. <sup>1</sup> The narrative opens with a description of a world with no life. Even for the gods, their personal name is the condition of their own existence. This is particularly important in ritual contexts where an interaction with one or more supra-human entities may occur. In cuneiform sources, the procedures undertaken show us the complexity of this kind of dialogue. As the material and physical receptacle of the offerings, the cult statue is central to this communication between human and divine beings: it makes present and represents the divine power.2 But sometimes, the cult statue is not sufficient or is absent. Effective words and precise gestures are required, depending on the purpose of each procedure. The officiant manipulates materials with various sensitive properties and convokes (from the Latin convocare "to call, summon, invite") one god, one goddess, a divine couple or even a more numerous group of deities by their own name. This name – specific to each deity – can also be multiple; the officiant must then enumerate all of them in litanies that can sometimes be lengthy. The scrupulous respect of

For an edition, commentary, bibliography, and mythological and narrative content, see Lambert 2013, 3–280; and Wisnom 2019.

For this topic of presenting and presencing the divine in anthropology and ancient Mesopotamian contexts, see Gumbrecht 2004 and the introduction in Pongratz-Leisten/Sonik 2015.

the sequence is the guarantee of not omitting any aspect of the divine power from which the expert wishes to receive help. To complete the link materially, writing the divine name is an essential strategic step in the ritual.

This chapter will focus on the relations between the names of divine agents and their writing down by human agents as part of the ritual procedure. The corpus of analysed sources will consist mainly of curses in royal inscriptions, as well as prescriptive incantatory texts that are preserved on cuneiform tablets written in Akkadian (and Sumerian) at the end of the 2nd-beginning of the 1st millennium BCE. I will examine the ritual contexts in which some experts need to inscribe the divine name and how they do it. Also, which divine entity is implemented in this ritual practice? On what material support? Is there a performative connection with the incantation itself, that is, the effective word pronounced by the officiant, the so-called speech act?

# 1 Acting on Divine Entities: Knowledge, Names and the Power of Writing

Among the numerous ritual procedures described in cuneiform sources of the 1st millennium BCE, those carried out to fight the demoness Lamaštu seem to use the process of writing down the divine name as a ritual act more frequently. Daughter of the great god An, her written name3 is introduced by the dingir-sign, which is a classifier for all the divine entities. This demoness was particularly feared in ancient Mesopotamia. The privileged victims of her attacks were infants and pregnant women; it was therefore of utmost importance to be able to fight her and protect oneself against her attacks through various rituals. Epigraphic attestations and archaeological findings such as amulets illustrate how widespread such practices were throughout the Ancient Near East.

The ritual procedures are described in prescriptive texts held by the specialists of rituals, the officiants who complete them in favour of a specific victim. Following the same pattern as other ritual descriptions, they combine incantations to be read out loud by the officiant or the patient themselves – depending on the situations – and a set of ritual gestures accompanying and amplifying the recitation. Assyriological studies have designated this combination of words, gestures and actions to be performed by the general term "incantation". These "incantations" are all written in the second person singular and are addressed to the officiant who will perform the procedure. The incantations are now well-known by our modern scientific community. They have a long history which goes back to the 3rd millennium BCE.4 Walter Farber<sup>5</sup> re-

As A. George showed it, the Sumerian name of the demoness should be read as KAMAD.ME (George 2018).

Farber 2014, 7–15.

Farber 2014.

cently published a critical edition of the canonical series – that is, tablets explicitly devoted to fighting Lamaštu and bearing the title <sup>d</sup> DIM3.ME.KE4 "Lamaštu". The incantations against Lamaštu may also be found on amulets with iconographical representations of the demoness. Lamaštu has a monstrous and hybrid appearance: she is depicted with the wide-open mouth of a lion as if she were roaring; she has the legs and feet of an eagle. She is seen breastfeeding a puppy and a piglet. She rides on a donkey on a boat sailing along the Hubur river which leads to the Netherworld.6 These amulets were probably hung around the neck of the patient.7 The literary descriptions of Lamaštu fit her iconographical representations.

Farber was able to reconstruct up to three sets of several incantations which share common principles of ritual actions. The procedures frequently revolve around providing the demoness with everything she would need for her trip back home: sandals, food, etc. Objects, such as seals or figurines, are formed by the officiant during the ritual and used in various ways. Depending on the procedure, they may be a representation of the demoness herself but also of other entities assisting the priest in the ritual fight. These objects are inscribed with the name of the supra-human entity they represent, as described in the two following ritual procedures.<sup>8</sup> By naming them, the officiant makes them present in the ritual scene.

#### RITUAL 1

Spell: "Dimme, Child of An' is her (Lamaštu) first name, / the second is 'Sister of the Gods of the streets' / the third is 'Sword that Splits the Head' / the fourth is 'She who Lights the Fire' / the fifth is 'Goddess whose Face is Wild' / the sixth is 'Entrusted one, Adopted Daughter of Irnina' / the seventh is 'By the Spell of the Great Gods May you be bound' / 'You should fly away with the birds of the sky, or else . . .!' MAGIC FORMULA / RECITATION (to use against) Lamaštu / ITS RITUAL: you write (the spell) on a cylinder seal made from clay (and) place it around the neck of the baby (Lamaštu series I, Farber 2014, 144, l. 1–10).9

In this first ritual, the names are those of the demoness Lamaštu. They are written down on a clay cylinder seal that is to be placed around the neck of the patient. The

One of the most famous examples is the "Plaque de conjuration" held at the Louvre Museum in Paris (AO 22205) from the Neo-Assyrian period (9th–6th century BCE), see pictures of the object https:// collections.louvre.fr/ark:/53355/cl010120479 (last consultation, october 2023). See other representations in Farber 2014, 2–6.

Wiggermann 2000; Heessel 2002; 2011; Farber 2014, 29–33.

Other apotropaic or exorcistic rituals include the same procedures. It is not my aim here to present all of them, as they share the same features as the two rituals that I analyse here. See, for instance, the ritual šēp lemutti ina bīt amēli parāsu "to block the entry of the enemy in someone's house" (Wiggermann 1992, 6–9, l. 20–50; 10–11, l. 115–123; 14–15, l. 195–205).

EN2 d Dim3-me dumu AN-a šumša ištēn / šanû aḫat ilī ša sūqāti / šalšu patru ša qaqqada ilattû / rebû ša išāta inappaḫu / ḫanšu iltu ša panūša šakṣū / šeššu paqid qāti leqât Irnina / sebû nīs ilī rabûti lū tamâti / itti iṣṣūr šamê lū tapparrašī-ma TU6 EN2 / KA.INIM.MA <sup>d</sup> DIM3.ME.KE4 / DU3.DU3.BI ina muḫḫi kunuk ṭīdi tašaṭṭar šerru ina kišādišu tašakkan. The same procedure is described in Lamastu series III, Farber 2014, 186–187, l. 8–28.

names function as a magic formula that summons the demoness, so that the officiant can act on her. Each of these names describes one characteristic of the demoness, and the set of all seven names provide a complete portrait of her: we have her divine genealogy (daughter of the great god An, sister of the street gods, adopted daughter of Irnina), her favourite place of attack (the street), the destructive power of her attacks (compared to a sword or a fire), and her monstrous appearance (a savage face); the last name grants the key that destroys her thanks to the magical power of the incantation. Divine names are social constructions, and respond to historical, geographical, social, political and religious purposes. This polyonymy – multiple names for one being – is specific to supra-human entities and plays a part in distinguishing them from human beings. Using all of her seven names, the officiant summons and designates Lamaštu, who identifies and recognises herself.

In the following ritual, the names of supra-human entities are written down by the officiant on a ritual object – here, a figurine. The procedure seeks not only to convoke these entities in the ritual scene, but also to ask for their divine help and intervention:

#### RITUAL 2.1

Its Ritual: Dust from the palace gate, dust from the gate of the Ištar temple / dust from the gate of the Ninurta temple, dust from the door of an aštammu-bar / dust from the door of a brew-pub, dust from the door of a bakery / dust from a street crossing you crush together using a mortar, mix it with clay from a canal, and form a tablet and dogs. / On the tablet, you draw a sun disc, a moon crescent, a crook and a star. / You write the incantation 'Fierce is the Daughter of Anu' on it. / You hang it up at the head of the bed. The dogs / you paint in different colours, using gypsum and charcoal. / Hair from a black dog (you attach) to their upper foreheads, / hair from a virgin kid you attach to their tails. / You write their names on the left side of their backs. / Windows to the right and left of the outer door, / of the inner door and of the door to the bedroom you open. / Lower down, you open a hole facing the door. (The dogs) 'Fast-is-his-attack' / (and) 'Watch-(all)-night, fendoff-the Daughter-of-Anu!'/ you let sit in the windows of the outer door. / 'Very-swift-is-his-attack' and 'Don't-be-negligent-in-your-watchfulness'/ you let sit in the windows of the inner door. 'Without-hesitation-use-your-muzzle! (lit. 'without-hesitation-open-your-mouth') (and) 'Overthrow-the-wickedone'. . . / you let sit in the windows of the bedroom door/ 'Sîn-is-the-herdsman-of-the-dogs' you let sit in the hole / facing the door (Lamaštu Series II, rit. 7, Farber 2014, 168–171, l. 61–83).10

Although these ritual gestures are carried out for the same purpose – that is, to chase Lamaštu away – the writing of divine names is not exclusive to these demonic entities

[DU3.DU3.BI eper bāb] e[ka]lli e[p]er bāb bīt Ištar / eper bāb bīt Ninurta [eper bāb aštammi] / [eper b] āb bīt sābî eper bāb bīt nuḫ[atimmi] / [eper sūq erbetti ina? urṣi ? ištēniš tasâk] / itti ṭīd palgi tuballal-ma ṭuppa u kalbī tep[puš] / [ina muḫḫi ṭuppi šamšata uska]ra gamla kakkabta teṣṣir / EN2 [ezzet mā]rat Anu ina muḫḫi tašaṭṭar / ina r[ēš erši t]allal kalbī / ina gaṣṣi upillê tubarr[am] / šārat kalb[i ṣalmi] ina abbuttišunu / šārat unīqi [lā] petīti ina zibbātīšunu tašakkan / šumīšunu ina naglab šumēlišunu tašaṭṭar / apāt imni u šumēli šā bābi kamî / ša bābi bītānî [u? ša bāb bīt erši tepette] / ina šaplim-ma? pīta ša ana tarṣi bā[bi tep]et[te Šaruḫ-tibušu] / Uṣur-mūša-ṭu[rud-Mārat-Anu] / ina libbi apāti [ša bā]bi k[amî tušeššeb] / Urruḫ-[tibušu] Ana-maṣṣar[tika-lā-teggi] / ina libbi apā[ti ša b]ābi bītān[î tušeššeb] / ē-tamtal(l)ike[puš]-pīka Sikip-lemna(-)[. . . . . .] / ina libbi ap[āti ša] bāb bīt erši [tušešseb] / Sî[n]-r[ē'i-ka]lbī ina li[bbi pīt]i? / [ša ana tarṣ]i bābi tu[šeš]šeb.

that can be either beneficent or malevolent (or even both) towards humans.<sup>11</sup> In ritual 2.1, each dog figurine bears only one specific name. In ritual 1, the incantation contains all the seven names (MU/šūmu) of Lamaštu. We are dealing here with a common feature of the sumero-akkadian incantations: the officiant mentions all of the entities – or all the names of the entity – they are fighting against, making sure not to miss out any of them. That way, their action will be effective.

As already noticed by Farber,12 Lamaštu's names may vary slightly from one procedure to another, or from one version of the same ritual to another. Although some words are not strictly identical, their semantic and symbolic content are more or less synonymous; they are set by the scholarly tradition. Farber presents a variant of Ritual 2.1, where the figurines of dogs bear the same name and are placed in the same location.13

RITUAL 2.2

Its ritual: you write (the incantation on) a tablet. A moon crescent, a sun disc, a star and a crook / you draw on (it), hang it up at the head of the bed. / (The dogs named) 'Fast-is-his-attack', 'Watch- (all)-night-fend-off-the Daughter-of-Anu' / are the two dogs of the outer door. / 'Very-swift-is-hisattack' and 'Don't-be-negligent-in-your-watchfullness' / are the two dogs of the inner door. / 'Bitewithout-hesitation' "(lit. 'without-hesitation-open-your-mouth')" (and) 'Overthrow-the-wickedone' . . . / are the two dogs of the bedroom door. / (Sīn-is-the herdsman-of-the-dogs' is the dog of the window. / Dust from the palace gate, dust from the gate of the Ištar temple, / dust from the door of an aštammu-bar, dust from the gate of the Ninurta temple, / dust from a brew-pub, dust from the door of a bakery, / (and) dust from a street crossing you crush together using a mortar, / mix it with clay from a canal, and form seven dogs. / You paint (them) in different colors, using gypsum and charcoal. / You attach hair from a black dog to their upper foreheads, / (and) hair from a virgin kid you attach to their tails. / Their names you write on the left sides of their backs. (Farber 2014, 170–171, l. 61✶ –78✶ ).

The dogs' names are based on a descriptive grammatical form (such as "very-swift-ishis-attack"), as well as on the use of the imperative to give an order ("don't be negligent", "overthrow the wicked one"). Names can be a description of the expected attack of the dog, as well as its main abilities (like its watchfulness). The location is always a passageway constituting a liminal place between outside and inside, between the public and the private spaces.

Sonik 2013, 113–115. For the taxonomy of Zwischenwesen in ancient Mesopotamia, see the study of Karen Sonik (Sonik 2013).

Farber 2014, 145.

DU3.DU3.BI ṭuppa tašaṭṭar uskara šamša[ta kakkabt]a gamla / ina muḫḫi teṣṣir ina rēš e[rši t]alla[l] / Šaruḫ-tibušu Uṣur-mūša-ṭurud-[Mārat-Anu]/ šina kalbū ša bābi [kamî] / Urruḫ-tibušu ana-maṣṣ[artikalā-te]ggi / šina kalbū [ša bābi bītānî] / ē-tamtalik-epuš-p[īka Sikip-lemna . . .] / šina kalbū [ša bāb bīt erši] / Sîn-rē'i-kalbī kalbu ša apti / eper bāb ekalli eper b[āb bīt I]štar / ep[er b]āb aštammi eper [bāb bīt Ninu]rta / eper bāb bīt sābî [eper bāb bīt] nuḫatimmi / eper sūq erbetti ina? ur[ṣi ? ištēni]š tasâk / itti ṭīd palgi tuballal [7 kalbī teppuš] / ina gaṣṣi upillê [tubarram] / šārat kalbi ṣalmi [ina abbutt]i[šun]u? / šārat unīqi [lā petīti ina zibbātišun]u [tašakkan] / šumšunu ina n[aglab šumēlišunu] taša[ṭṭar].

Regarding our inquiry about writing divine names in ritual contexts, the ritual procedures (Ritual 1 with the names of Lamaštu, and Rituals 2.1 and 2.2 with the dog figurines) share common features. Writing (an action expressed, through the verb šaṭāru, written syllabically or with the logogram SAR) is part of the procedure and is fully considered to be part of the ritual, whether at the beginning, in the middle or at the end of the process. The officiant does not manipulate objects or figurines that already bear cuneiform inscriptions; they write cuneiform signs during their cultic performance and compose the divine name according to a certain tradition, with some flexibility.

What is written is qualified as the "name" (logogram MU, Akkadian šūmu) of the entity that is mentioned in the incantation, or represented by the figurine. Ritual 1 (Lamaštu) is slightly different as the names (šūmu/MU) are integrated in the main incantation, which is then written down on a cylinder seal (kunukku). This object has a long history in Mesopotamia since it appears in the Uruk period (end of the 4th millennium BCE). At the beginning, it only bears figurative scenes; names and social/political/religious functions of the owner are added from the middle of the 3rd millennium BCE. This object is an extension of the identity of the individual whose name is written on it.14 Printed in clay thanks to the seal, the name then engages the individual in legal affairs beyond time. It gives presence and represents the individual. According to the procedure in ritual 1, the ritual cylinder seal is made of clay for the ritual, and should be different from the one used in daily life. Placed around the patient's neck, the inscribed cylinder-seal misleads the demoness. It deceitfully gives Lamaštu the impression that the baby already belongs her, so that she will not attack him/her again. The ritual procedure suggests that the demoness can read the cuneiform signs, whether the names are syllabically or logographically written, and target specific victims without amulets.15

In rituals 1 and 2.1/2.2, names provide a certain specificity and individuality: the supra-human entities do not act as a group; they are identified by their own names.

The ritual procedure establishes a close relation between the written inscription and its support, be it the tablet bearing the incantation or the dog figurines. In rituals 2.1 and 2.2, the precise location of the inscription – the left side of the dogs' back – is indicated, whereas ritual 1 indicates the material out of which the cylinder seal engraved with the incantation should be made.

It is worth noting that these ritual designations do not correspond to contemporary theophoric anthroponyms, which are built on a divine name with a verbal form, creating a brief sentence. For instance, one of the most famous exorcists of the Neo-Assyrian period is Nabû-zuqup-kēnu, whose name can be translated as: "O Nabû, keep upright

For the symbolic use of the cylinder seal associated with the personality of the individual, see Finet 1969.

For instance, her first name is written in Sumerian: <sup>d</sup> dim10 dumu an-na "Dimme, daughter of An," whereas her second name is in Akkadian, combining both syllabic signs and logograms: a-ḫat DINGIR.MEŠ ša<sup>2</sup> su-qa-a-ti "sister of the gods of the streets" (Farber 2014, 68).

the true one!". <sup>16</sup> Human names sound like wishes or omina addressed to the deities. In the rituals examined previously, written names belong to entities of the supra-human world. They fulfil either a wish or an order function, like one of the dogs' names in ritual 2, who is called "Watch-(all)-night, fend-off-the Daughter-of-Anu!"); they also refer to a descriptive quality of the entity (again, in ritual 2, a dog is named "Very-swift-is-hisattack"). These kinds of "transparent names" are similar to epithets describing specific qualities or powers of an invisible entity.

Regarding the dogs' figurines, their names match their location and functions, as they are placed at a window, at the border between private and public places, or open and close spaces So, they are ready to attack a potential enemy. They must guard the entire ritual place. They are no longer figurines; they act like real demonic/ divine dogs, able to protect people and attack the demoness.

As we can see in ritual 2 (1 and 2), writing a divine name in cuneiform signs is not the only ritual act in the procedure. The figurines are moulded into the shape of dogs (which they are supposed to represent) to which the officiant must then add dog's hair. The medium which represents and gives a material, perceptible presence to the invisible entity17 is a multi-sensory object, involving sight and touch (as well as thermoception depending on the sensations aroused by touching the object). Furthermore, benevolent dogs are not the only divine entities to be summoned. Before shaping dogs out of clay, the officiant draws (eṣēru) a sun disc, a moon crescent, a crook and a star on a tablet. The ritual procedure uses two different verbs for drawing (eṣēru) and writing (šaṭāru), distinguishing between these different actions. The elements that are drawn are symbols of the great gods, that is, iconographical representations or attributes that can be found on stela or on kudurru: <sup>18</sup> the sun disc stands for the sun-god Šamaš, the moon crescent for the moon-god Sīn, and the star for the goddess Ištar. As the drawings are made at the very beginning of the ritual procedure, the officiant places the entire procedure under the patronage of powerful great gods who are at the top of the divine pantheon. Here, symbols may be equivalent to their names and writing is not more powerful than drawing. All means of communication are valid when it comes to addressing and identifying the supra-human powers. It becomes clear that the efficacy of the procedure relies on the combination of the two media. In an insightful study on cuneiform writing, Piotr Michalowski underlines this solidarity in the context of the royal statuary, a quote that perfectly fits our inquiry:

Baker/Pearce 2000.

Belting 2004; Pongratz-Leisten/Sonik 2015.

See for instance the top of the kudurru of the kassite Babylonian king Melišipak held at the Louvre museum (SB 22, photo available on the website of the museum: https://collections.louvre.fr/ark:/53355/ cl010174452, last consultation October 2023).

Stone stelae represent royal authority, and it is the combined effect of writing, symbolic imagery, and the very medium itself that work together to express certain concepts (. . .) It was thus a combination of medium, image, and writing that worked together, not a series of discrete unit.19

Be it in ritual 1 or in rituals 2.1 and 2.2, writing grants the names a long-lasting efficacy. The names are pronounced during the very moment of the ritual procedure, as demonstrated in ritual 1 by the fact that the names constitute the content of the oral incantation. Writing those names down makes their utterance last forever. Whoever reads it – aloud or to themselves – will reactivate the power of the words contained in the divine onomastic sequence again and again. Long after the ritual has been completed, whoever discovers the dog figurines cannot take them for simple "dogs": their names indicate their supra-human nature, their power as well as their protective and apotropaic functions all together. This long-lasting function of the written name is also made possible by the material from which the figurine is made. They are neither made of ephemeral material, nor voluntarily destroyed during the ritual.

Writing out the name of an entity during a ritual procedure may also be found in anti-witchcraft procedures dating to the 1st millennium BCE.20 As in the previous examples, writing names down participates in the representation and the presencing of an invisible force; in the specific context of anti-witchcraft procedures, a human sorcerer or sorceress who has attacked an individual. The ritual gestures include the shaping of a concrete medium which is later inscribed with the name of the absentee, that is, the malevolent human assailant. The ritual material becomes a visual and tangible support used to make the enemy present in the ritual scene. The enemy and the object are one; by destroying the latter, the officiant attacks the former and cancels the effects of their malevolence.21

The presence of the written names suggests the implicit presence of an audience,22 be it a human or a supra-human one. During ritual procedures, the officiant convokes the malevolent or benevolent entity by writing its name on a support. The name gives the enemy/adversary entity a presence, and participates in establishing a bridge between the human and the divine spheres. What the officiant says may be heard or what he writes may be read by whoever is present in the ritual setting, such as the patient/victim for instance. We should not underestimate the psychological impacts this could have for the audience listening or deciphering the magical names.23 Furthermore, the complexity

Michalowski 1990, 64.

Abusch/Schwemer 2011; 2016.

For instance: [DU3.DU3.BI ṣa]lam bēl dabābīka ša ṭīdi teppuš šumšu ina nagla[b šumēlīšu tašaṭṭar . . .] / [šipta ann]īta šalāšīšu tamannu ina asīd šēp šumēlīka tasê[ršu . . .] "Its ritual: you make a figurine of clay representing your adversary. You write his name on his left shoulder . . . You recite this incantation three times. You crush it with the heel of your left foot" ritual 8.23, l. 5ʹ–6ʹ (Abusch/ Schwemer 2016).

Michalowski 1990, 65.

Abusch/Schwemer 2011, 20–24.

of the cuneiform writing made access to its reading limited. Not everyone was able to decipher the signs. Only the intellectual elite, after extensive training,24 had the necessary skills to understand what was written. During the ritual, the officiant was the only holder of this knowledge, both practical – writing the right cuneiform signs in the clay – and theoretical – the proper names of the superhuman entities. Ritual writing became a means of distinguishing the officiant, who was then able to create the bridge with the divine world.

One inscription of the Babylonian king Nabuchodonosor II (605–562 BCE) gives a description of a sacred place where a written artefact is placed to be seen: "The name of Ninkarrak<sup>25</sup> who dwells in Eulla, was written (šaṭir) on the back of a dog. It could be seen (innamir, from the verb amāru in N-stem) in the middle of it." <sup>26</sup> The use of a dog figurine is not surprising as the dog is the animal associated with the goddess of medicine.<sup>27</sup> These written objects were then supposed to be at least seen, and maybe even read, by a human audience. The goddess Ninkarrak has her name written on the dog, and the inscription uses the Akkadian expression zikir šūmi "the pronunciation of the name," with the substantive zikru, from the root zakāru "to talk, to speak, to name." A vocal feature of the written name should be highlighted as it can be found in other ritual contexts; even when written down, a divine name has a sonorous characteristic. This is what we will explore now.

# 2 A Ritual Sound Writing

Our contemporary western society is particularly marked by silent reading or reading in a low voice. This practice is even taught in elementary classes at school to children learning to read. However, silent reading was, and still is, not a universal practice. In his investigation of the murmur in Mesopotamia, Grayson introduces the topic by mentioning a passage from Confessions of Augustine: Augustine witnesses with surprise the silent reading of Ambrose of Milan.<sup>28</sup> The Mesopotamian lexical lists underline the link between the name, its written form, and its pronunciation. In the list, entitled Malku-šarru, from the 1st millennium BCE, which gathers together Akkadian

Tinney 1998, 1999; Veldhuis 1997, 2006; Jean 2006.

Literally "name/command/utterance of the name of Ninkarrak" (zikir šūm ša Ninkarrak). In the first millennium, Ninkarrak, the name of the goddess of medicine (also known as Gula, or Ninisinna). For the history of this goddess, see Heffron 2016.

zi-ki-ir šu2/1-um ša <sup>d</sup> Ninkarrak a-ši-ba-at e3-ul-la ṣēri kalbi šaṭirma i-na qe2-er-bi-šu in-na-mi-ir (VAB 4 144 ii l. 18–19).

Charpin 2017, 31–60.

Grayson 2000, 301; Rendu Loisel 2016, 204–206. See also the study on reading in Medieval times: Bouchet 2008.

synonyms, the narû-stele, which is used as a boundary stone or may have contained inscribed laws and regulations,<sup>29</sup> has the following equivalents:

[na-ru-u2] = ⸢na⸣-ru-⸢u⸣, [a]-⸢su⸣-mit-⸢tum⸣, [š]i-ṭir <sup>š</sup>u-mi, [š]u-mu zak-ru "stele" = stele, inscribed slab, writing of the name, pronounced (zakru) name" (Malku V, l. 196–199).

The link between the name, its written form and its pronunciation is best illustrated with the kudurru from the Kassite period (second half of the 2nd millennium BCE in Babylonia). These stelae most often record a royal donation of land for a high official, or a member of the royal family. Each stele is inscribed with a cuneiform text containing the precise description of the donation, the list of witnesses, as well as a series of divine curses launched against those who may violate the inscription or act against its content. The kudurru also presents an iconographic component, with the symbolic representation of the deities who protect the kudurru and the donation it commemorates. These stelae were exhibited in temples, but a copy in the form of a cuneiform tablet was also produced and kept by the new owner and recipient of the donation or the royal administration.30 The curses section of these texts is directly relevant to our topic. In the following example, taken from a kudurru of the Kassite king Nazimaruttaš (1307–1282 BCE), at the end of the curses we can read a sentence that occurs on other kudurru:

Let the great gods whose names are mentioned (šumšunu zakāru) on this stone, whose weapons are manifested (kakkušunu kullumu), whose pedestals/residences are indicated (šubātušunu uddâ), may they curse him with an evil curse! May they destroy (ḫalāqu) his name (MU-šu)! His seed should not be neglected (nīda aḫi rašû) during removal (šūlû) (Louvre SB 21, iii l. 16–29; Paulus 2004: 328).<sup>31</sup>

By "weapons" (kakku) and "pedestals" (šubātu), the sentence refers to the Kassite iconographic representations of the gods; kudurru depicts divinities with non-anthropomorphic symbols (animals, objects, weapons), which are frequently drawn above a representation of an altar. In the preceding quote, "weapon" (kakku) designates the symbols, whereas "the pedestals" (šubātu) may designate the altars. Names, weapons and pedestals are all related to the divine entity they represent: they make its divine power present and effective.

Contrary to the ritual procedures against Lamaštu, the very act of writing the divine names down is not part of the curse. It may have belonged to another ritual procedure dealing with the installation of the kudurru. With their names and iconographical symbols, gods are present and can already carry out threats. Writing out the name that

See the attestations in CAD N, vol. 1, "narû A", 364–367.

Suzanne Paulus recently proposed a brand new edition of these stelae (Paulus 2014).

See also MDP 2 pl. 23 vii 27; see also BBSt n°5 iii 20; BBSt n°4 iv 5; VAS 1 37 v 46.

has been spoken fixes and prolongs the effects of the curse. Writing makes possible the repetition of the ritual utterances.

With musical instruments, weapons seem to play a particular role in the ritual system. Assyrian and Babylonian royal inscriptions from the 1st millennium BCE show that weapons symbolised the god when the king was in campaign. In the inscriptions of Tiglath-Pileser III, the king commemorates the fact that he established the weapon of the great god of the empire, Aššur, at the end of the construction of a palace or city in a newly conquered place. This weapon represents and gives a tangible form to the god's presence in his new territory.<sup>32</sup>

The gods are present thanks to three different media (names, weapons, sieges), which are drawn on the kudurru itself. The writing of the name, the symbolic drawing of the god, his weapon or throne are effective in representing and embodying the divine agency in the human world. These media respond to and complement each other so that the supra-human power can act efficiently, in accordance with the curses that involve them. If we look more closely at the way the Akkadian language deals with the divine name, we find the root zakāru "to say, to name, to speak," used to specify the modalities of utterance of the name (šūmu). Names are "spoken" (zakrū): the vocal dimension is an integral part of the writing of the name, and therefore of the divine entity itself. Speech is the fourth medium necessary for the representation and presencing of the god (the three other medias being the written name, the weapon and the siege). This vocal and sound dimension invites us to wonder about the voices that are able, authorised or empowered to pronounce divine names. These agents can be multiple: it could be the craftsman who engraves the stele, the officiant in charge of installing the stele in the temple, who is directly involved in the transaction with the gods, but it can also be a wider audience, those who read the inscription in a near or remote future and are not necessarily related to the primary ritual procedure. In this latter case, the inscribed divine names are then reactivated together with the curses put under their control. An inscription on a rock relief in Bavian (Iraq) by the Assyrian king Sennacherib (795–681 BCE) stresses the vocal dimension of the curse:

I made six stelai (NA4.NA.RU2) (and) fashioned the images of the great gods, my lords, on them. and I placed before them a statue (ṣalmu) of my royalty in humility position (lābin appi) (. . .) (At any time, whoever destroys my work) may the great gods, all those names mentioned (šūmu nabû) in this stela, curse him with curse of evil (arrat marušti lirrurušuma); may they overthrow his dynasty (BALA-šu<sup>2</sup> sakāpu) (Sennacherib 223 = OIP 2 84–85, l. 55 and l. 59).<sup>33</sup>

The names of the great gods are written logographically or syllabically, according to the theonym lists.<sup>34</sup> Completed by the presence of symbols on the stele, the writing of the names leave no room for doubt and are immediately identifiable by readers. We

Litke 1998.

See, for instance, Tiglath-pileser III 05 (http://oracc.org/rinap/Q003418/, last consultation October 2023).

See new edition online: http://oracc.org/rinap/Q004028/ (last consultation October 2023).

are not dealing with mysterious and secret names, which would be the privilege of ritual experts, as is perhaps the case with the names of Lamaštu or the dogs in the ritual procedures described above. In the Sennacherib stele, the inscription does not use the root zakāru but rather nabû, a verbal form which is generally translated as "to call, name, decree". The gods, who are bound to protect the king, are called by their names, summoned to apply each of the curses detailed on the stele, according to their individual prerogatives and skills. These curses are not limited to the present time; they are meant to permanently protect the memory of the king's exploits and to punish anyone who dares to contravene or destroy the kudurru. The name (šūmu) calls on the divinity and decrees (nabû) a mission. Divine action is not circumscribed by the moment and space of the installation ritual; it is also linked to the possibility of a breach of the transaction or the writing itself. This transgression "re-activates" the divine power and requires action. Writing down the divine name not only has the effect of attributing the mission (nabû) to the divinity but also providing long-lasting protection thanks to the name being anchored in the materiality of the monument. As kudurru are made of stone (diorite, basalt . . .), the inscription endures over time. Reading the cuneiform writing grants those who have this ability a certain power,<sup>35</sup> but the curses remind them that they still belong to the human world and that they are submitted to the divine order whose members assist the king.

The link between written divine names and the materiality of written objects<sup>36</sup> is of utmost importance and guarantees the effectiveness of the curse beyond any time limit (at least theoretically). Divine powers are present, "captured", in all their forms: written and spoken names, weapons, symbols and so on.37 The divine curse will survive as long as the material support remains intact and the inscription is still visible and legible. This subsequently gives us a better understanding of why doors and walls of official buildings such as temples and palaces were given proper names, which, as we saw in the first part of this analysis, are also descriptions of the expected divine actions.<sup>38</sup> The following example gives the names of all the gates of the new royal city of Dūr-Šarrukīn: this city was built near Nineveh by King Sargon II (722–705 BCE). In his inscriptions, the king revealed all of his plans for what was supposed to be his new capital:

I made the length of its wall 16,280 cubits and I made its foundation secure upon (blocks of) massive mountain (stone). In front and in back, on both sides, facing the four directions, I opened

Finkel 2010, 9.

Petrovic et al. 2018.

Note that there are also some cases where the human is the support for the divine name; the name is inscribed – surely through a tattoo process – on their skin and marks the property of the god, l. 3–5: fdna-na-a-ḫu-us-si-in-ni / GEME2 ša<sup>2</sup> kak-kab-ti rit-ta-šu<sup>2</sup> še-en-di-ti u<sup>3</sup> / a-na <sup>d</sup> Na-na-a šaṭ-ra-tu<sup>4</sup> "Nanaya-hussini, servant whose hand is marked by the star and is inscribed 'for Nanaya'" (Louvre AO 19536, l. 3–5, juridical document from the reign of Nabonidus).

Yamada 2020.

eight gates (in the city wall). Then, I named the gate(s) of the gods Šamaš and Adad that face the east "The God Šamaš Is the One Who Makes Me Triumph" (and) "The God Adad Is the One Who Establishes My Prosperity" (respectively). I called the gate(s) of the god Enlil and the goddess Mullissu that face the north "The God Enlil Is the One Who Establishes the Foundation of My City" (85) (and) "The Goddess Mullissu Is the One Who Restores Abundance" (respectively). I made the name(s) of the gate(s) of the god Anu and the goddess Ištar that face the west "The God Anu Is the One Who Makes My Undertakings Successful" (and) "The Goddess Ištar Is the One Who Makes Its People Flourish" (respectively). I pronounced the names of the gate(s) of the god Ea and the goddess Bēlet-ilī that face the south (to be) "The God Ea Is the One Who Keeps Its Spring(s) in Good Order" (and) "The Goddess Bēlet-Ilī Is the One Who Increases Its (Animals') Offspring" (respectively). (90) Its (city) wall was (called) "The God Aššur Is the One Who Prolongs the Reign of Its Royal Builder (and) Protects His Troops." Its outer wall was (called) "The God Ninurta Is the One Who Establishes the Foundation of His City for (All) Days to Come" (Sargon II 9, l. 79b–92a).39

All the names of the gates follow the same pattern: each one associates one specific divinity to a power or competence which is supposed to reflect on the king, the city, and/or its population. The wishes – protection, wealth of the population, long reign of the king, etc. – are linked to the architectural function of city gates that must guarantee the integrity of the space and the population that resides within the walls.

Written in the inscriptions that cover the material, the divine name activates the very function of the places or building parts, and puts no time limit on their power. Written names also preserve the power of the individual, even for human beings. In the Esarhaddon's Succession Treaty (SAA 2 6), the vassals are warned against disrespecting the treaty. Should they do so, they will suffer physically, mentally and socially. Their very existence will be destroyed thanks to the action of the god Nabû:

May Nabû, bearer of the tablet of fates of the gods, erase your name, and destroy your seed from the land (Esarhaddon's Succession Treaty, SAA 2 6, l. 660–661).<sup>40</sup>

The god Nabû is the divine patron of writing and is sometimes represented by a single wedge on a clay tablet.<sup>41</sup> His name is derived from the same root as the aforementioned verb nabû "to name, to designate". By writing the name on the Tablet of Destinies, a function and a fate is attributed to someone. With the power of writing, Nabû controls human life. Erasing (pašāṭu) the name will suppress one's existence and memory. Kings are aware of the fragility of their monuments or the damage caused by erosion and time. Moreover, even on stone, names can be deliberately erased. The curses also apply to those who replace the king's name with their own or those who delete the cuneiform inscription or its drawings.

Translation taken from http://oracc.museum.upenn.edu/rinap/corpus/ (last consultation, October 2023, see with the keywords: "Sargon II 9").

d PA na-ši ṭup-pi NAM-MEŠ DINGIR-MEŠ / MU-ku-nu lip-ši-ṭi NUMUN-ku-nu ina KUR lu-ḫal-liq (edition of the text: http://oracc.org/saao/Q009186/, last consultation October 2023).

Tudeau 2013.

Among all the descriptions of rituals at our disposal in the cuneiform sources, I have not yet come across a case where a divine name as a ritual instruction has been voluntarily erased. However, there is a case in the Akkadian literature where a king maliciously creates a new deity and gives it a name. The Verse Account of Nabonidus (BM 38299) was probably composed on a Persian initiative under Cyrus the Great.42 The entry of the Persians into Babylon in 539 was accompanied by negative propaganda targeting the previous Babylonian king, Nabonidus. The Persians are presented as saviours, sent by the Babylonian gods themselves, such as Marduk the god of Babylon, whereas the Babylonian king, Nabonidus, is depicted as an impious and sacrilegious ruler. This anti-Nabonidus propaganda document describes the last Babylonian king as a disrespectful king, ignorant of the Mesopotamian multi-millennial traditions.

His protective spirit-šēdu became hostile to him (Nabonidus). And he, the former favourite of the gods, is now seized by misfortune. Against the will of the gods, he performed an impure act . . . he had just fashioned wind! [He had made a god] that no one had seen in the country until now [. . .] he made him sit on a pedestal; he gave him the name of Moon (Nannar). Of gold and lapis lazuli, he made him wear a crown; his appearance (šikinšu) is that of the eclipse of the moon-Sîn (Verse Account of Nabonidus, i 18ʹ–29ʹ; Schaudig 2001, 566–567).

Nabonidus is accused of bringing an unknown deity into the temple of Babylon – chasing away the former divine owner, Marduk. This new divine presence is effective as soon as a statue, symbols and a divine name are established.

# 3 Conclusion

To investigate the ritual uses of divine names in ancient Mesopotamia, I decided to focus on a particular ritual practice, the act of writing the divine name. In prescriptive ritual texts from the 1st millennium BCE, one may find the explicit term translated as "name", that is MU in Sumerian or šumu in Akkadian. This name is selected by the officiant from various other ways to address the gods (there are for instance many epithets, other theonyms, but they selected this one in particular: why? For what ritual purpose was this specific name chosen?). Writing a name that is supposed to be pronounced out loud invites us to consider the link between the name, the material or object on which it is written and its vocal effectiveness in a ritual context. So, by studying the writing of divine names as a ritual act, I wanted to focus on the intention of the officiant, their goals and expected outcomes when they pronounce and write what they understand to be a divine name.

One of the ritual series I studied were those devoted to the demoness Lamaštu. If we have a look at the syntactic construction of her names, they differ slightly from

Beaulieu 1989; Schaudig 2001, 563–578.

the other contemporary anthroponyms. Being longer, they are also programmatic and very close to incantatory formulas or epithets. In one of the procedures, the seven names of Lamaštu differentiate her from the human entities who only have one. They draw a complete portrait of the demoness who must recognise herself in these names. Benevolent agents may also be summoned with these programmatic names. These "incantation-names" are not the common ones used to designate the agents in lists of theonyms or in narrative compositions. They belong to the scholarly lore regarding the divine world and imply specific knowledge.

Writing all the names of a divine entity out during a ritual procedure helps the officiant to encompass all the divine aspects and powers. We will find the same processes in the other papers from the session, such as the contribution by Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui regarding the accumulation of divine onomastics and epithets. In ancient Mesopotamian incantations, we also have litanies – long and comprehensive lists of all the divine names that are read so that the officiant is sure not to miss out any member of the divine assembly. This is also the case in exorcistic rituals in which the exorcist will name all the known demons so as not to forget one of them who could be the true enemy; for instance, in the udug-ḫul / utukkū lemnūtu series, the exorcist gives the names for at least 10 demonic agents.43

In the examples I studied in my paper, the act of writing is deeply related to the materiality of the object; the name makes the entity present and writing it down adds a temporal dimension to its effectiveness. But the pronunciation and oral characteristic are not forgotten; on the contrary, even if it is written, the name is understood for its vocal feature. To be effective, a name must be pronounced. We may wonder who was supposed to read the inscriptions, as this implied mastering the complex cuneiform writing system. The cuneiform signs help to create this eternal pronunciation, even if there is no audience to give a human voice to them and the reading remains silent. A divine name might then be "spoken" in a mental reading. The zikir šūmi, the "pronunciation of the name" is an essential aspect of the ritual writing of divine names. In the ritual procedures of Ancient Mesopotamia, "writing" is considered a different act to "drawing," but written names and iconographical symbols are complementary to each other. They constitute different but interrelated media, sharing the same ritual goal: to make the invisible present to the human perception.

Geller 2016.

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Wiggermann, Frans A. M. (1992), Mesopotamian Protective Spirits, The Ritual Texts, Groningen.


# Theodora Suk Fong Jim Divine Naming in Greek and Chinese Polytheism

Abstract: Like the Greek gods, Chinese deities could also bear names and titles signifying their divine functions; they could be granted titles on the strength of their actual deeds and manifestations of their power. How, then, did the gods in Greek and Chinese polytheism acquire cult titles? What did it mean to be given cult titles in Greece and China? Given the plurality of divine names available for a given god, how did individuals decide which one(s) to use when addressing and communicating with the gods? The present study is a first attempt to bring together divine naming in Greek and Chinese polytheism. It will tackle these questions by making use of epigraphic and literary evidence in both religious systems. Its concern is not just with the theoretical and institutional aspects of the phenomenon; it also hopes to shed light on the Greek and Chinese religious worldviews and perceptions of their gods, and ultimately to open up new questions for the study of both fields.

If divine names and cult epithets once constituted probably the most under-studied aspect of the gods in Greek religion, over the last few decades they have attracted increased attention among ancient historians. One way of further advancing this field of study is to exploit the large amount of material for divine naming available from other polytheistic cultures.1 Thus the Mapping Ancient Polytheisms project under the direction of Corinne Bonnet has ambitiously and fruitfully brought together divine names in the Greek world and the western Semitic world. The present discussion is the first attempt to bring together divine naming in Greek and Chinese polytheism. Like the Greek gods, Chinese deities could bear names and titles signifying their divine functions; they might be given titles on the strength of their actual deeds and manifestations of their power. The Chinese phenomenon is documented in a wealth of literary and epigraphic evidence; yet the material has remained surprisingly under-explored by Chinese historians, so that theoretical analysis of Chinese divine naming has been slow to emerge.<sup>2</sup>

The research undertaken for the present paper is funded by the Leverhulme Trust. I am grateful to Qin Yang for assistance with the Japanese articles referred to in n. 2 and with translation of Classical Chinese sources into English. See Parker 2017, 80: "One can also try to look more broadly at forms of divine naming throughout the polytheisms of the ancient Near East, on the assumption that they had all been in direct or mediated interaction since at last the second millennium B.C."

The only detailed Anglophone treatment of this subject to my knowledge is Hansen 1990, ch. 4; see also the brief discussion in Hymes 2002, 101–105, 181–186. For Japanese and Chinese scholarship on this topic, see Matsumoto 1986; Kanai 1993; Sue 1994; Kao 2017; Sakai 2020.

How, then, did the gods in Greek and Chinese polytheism acquire cult titles? What did it mean to be given cult titles in Greece and China? What roles did the state and its members play in the process? I will tackle these questions by making use of epigraphic and literary evidence in both polytheistic systems, and I will focus on the state and individuals as agents in the process of divine naming.3 My concern is not just with the theoretical and institutional aspects of divine naming; I hope also to shed light on the Greek and Chinese religious worldviews and perceptions of their gods, and ultimately to open up new questions for the study of both fields. The chronological focus for the following analysis will be the Greek world from the late Archaic period to the early Roman imperial (5th century BCE to 1st century CE) on the one hand, and China from the Song to the Ming dynasties (10th to 15th centuries CE) on the other, when an abundance of evidence is available on the granting of cult titles to the Chinese divinities, and when the socio-economic conditions in Greece and China are broadly comparable. I will speak of "cult titles" where Chinese deities are concerned, in order not to impose the Greek word "epiclesis" or its English rendering of "epithet" on to Chinese religion.

### 1 Functions and Configurations

One of the earliest instances of Greek gods receiving cult epithets in historical times is found in Herodotus' account of the final stages of the Persian Wars. In 480 BCE, while the Persian fleet was anchored near Cape Sepias off the coast of Thessaly, it was struck by a strong Hellespontine wind. On the fourth day when the storm ceased and when the Greeks received the news of Persian losses, they prayed and offered libations to Poseidon Soter ("Saviour"). According to Herodotus, this is how the god came to be honoured under the title (ἐπωνυμία) of Poseidon Soter, a title still in use in his time.4 This is one of the few cases where we have knowledge of the precise date and historical circumstances behind the adoption of a particular cult title for a god, when such information is usually missing in the evidence. Even so, however, Herodotus' account leaves many questions unanswered; his narrative seems to suggest a deceptively orderly process in which everyone in the Greek fleet offered prayers and libations to Poseidon and recognized him as their Saviour. But how did the Greeks agree on honouring Poseidon as Soter? Might any other gods or cult epithets have been proposed? Earlier chapters show that the Delphians had previously received an

My present focus on the Chinese side is on cult titles conferred on the gods by the state; the process is known as guofeng and sometimes rendered imperfectly in English as 'state canonisation'. I will not discuss 'Taoist canonisation' (daofeng), which is a different process internal to the Taoist tradition and which can apply to gods and to human followers of Taoism. On the relationship between 'state canonisation' and 'Taoist canonisation', see Lee 1994, 201–204, and Kao 2017.

Hdt. 7.189–193, at 192–193.

oracle to pray to the Anemoi (the Winds) and the oracle was communicated to all the Greeks, whereas another oracle instructed the Athenians to appeal to Boreas (the North Wind), their mythical son-in-law. Nevertheless the Anemoi and Boreas received only local worship rather than Panhellenic recognition.<sup>5</sup> Might there have been any conflicting claims between different groups as to which god was at work and deserved to be honoured with a new title? Once decided, how was knowledge of Poseidon's newly acquired epithet transmitted to other Greeks, and how widely accepted or adopted was it across the Greek world? Herodotus' account leaves out some of the most intriguing details; what is emphasized instead is Poseidon's power in repelling the barbarians in favour of the Greeks.

Poseidon's newly earned title Soter represents one of the commonest types of cult epithet in Greek religion in the early periods: it is an example of a 'functional' epithet, used by the Greeks to identify the most relevant or desired function of a god among other aspects of his power, here the power to save. Depending on their needs in a given situation, the Greeks might invoke a god under different epithets. Thus Zeus Ktesios ("of Property") identifies his protection of household and property, and Zeus Keraunos ("of the Thunderbolt") emphasizes his control over thunder and lightning. Some cult epithets were specific to certain gods (such as Keraunos for Zeus; Phutalmios for Poseidon), whereas others (such as Epekoos, "Listener"; Hegemon, "Leader"; Soter, "Saviour") were 'trans-divine' epithets applicable to a range of gods in the Greek pantheon.6 Greek cult epithets usually follow a god's name, though divine nomenclature is flexible and other onomastic configurations are also possible.7

Much later than Herodotus, in China during the Song dynasty, an imperial envoy returning from Korea to China was saved from a violent storm at sea by the goddess Mazu. A 12th-century inscription once erected at her temple at Shengdun near Ninghai, which is probably the oldest of her shrines, thus records her saving intervention:

In the following year (1123) . . . the Supervising Secretary Lu Yundi went on an embassy to Korea. On his way through the Eastern Sea, he ran into a violent storm. Eight ships collided at prow and stern, and seven of them capsized. It was only above the ships on which Lu Yundi was sailing that a goddess appeared at the top of the mast and turned and moved as if she was dancing. Immediately they obtained a safe crossing. Afterwards, he made enquiries of everyone. At that time Li Zhen, a member of the embassy with the title of Gentleman who Guards Righteousness, who had worshipped the Goddess of Shengdun for a long time, told him all about the bless-

Hdt. 7.178 (Anemoi), 189 (Boreas).

E.g. A., Supp. 445 (Zeus Ktesios), I.Milet VI.3 1257 (Zeus Keraunios). Brulé 2007, 329, uses the phrase "épiclèses trans-divines".

Greek cult epithets could also precede a god's theonym or be used alone without a theonym. Bonnet et al. 2018 stress that the onomastic configurations of gods are much more flexible and varied than the simple combination of a theonym and an epithet, and propose speaking instead of an 'onomastic formula' or 'onomastic sequence' made up of different 'onomastic attributes'.

ings she bestowed. When Lu had returned home he gave a report to the court, and the title "Smooth Crossing" was granted for use on a temple tablet.8

This is the earliest extant document in which this goddess is mentioned. Originally a human being on the island of Meizhou in Fujian province situated in the Southeastern coast of China, Mazu was worshipped after death especially but not exclusively for her protection of mariners and coastal communities. Since the 10th century she had received local worship by individuals and the local population in Fujian, but it was not until Mazu effected the rescue of an imperial embassy and thereby rendered a major service to the state that she was given official honours and recognition. She provides a particularly good case study for analysing cult titles in Chinese polytheism, as an exceptional amount of evidence is available for her cult and titles.

The 1123 miracle was the first time that Mazu was honoured by the state: 'Smooth Crossing' encapsulates her function performed on this occasion and conveys a similar sense to Aphrodite's epithet Euploia ('Smooth Sailing'). The end of the quoted lines states that the title "Smooth Crossing" was written on a "temple tablet" (miao e): this appears to be a wooden plaque carrying the name of the temple granted by the state, and might have served as a means of displaying the manifest power of its god and state recognition of it. Receiving a temple plaque marked the first step by which a god received cult titles.9 Subsequently Mazu was credited with a large number of other miracles, on the basis of which she was given a series of state-conferred titles and moved up in rank and status in the state pantheon. Her miracles performed and titles earned across the ages are too numerous to be all listed here; what follows is a selection of the more significant for illustrating the 'onomastic configurations' of Chinese divinities:10

Song dynasty

1123: temple plaque written "Smooth Crossing" (shun ji 順濟).<sup>11</sup>

Jian/Zheng 2007, no. 1 (聖墩祖廟重建順濟廟記 "Record of the rebuilding of the ancestral temple at Shengdun: the temple of Smooth Crossing", 1150), with translation and commentary in Ruitenbeek 1999, 322–325.

This Song system seems to create a distinction between granting titles/names (on plaques) to temples and granting titles to the gods to whom the temples belonged, a distinction which was not made in ancient Greece. Their precise relationship in Chinese polytheism will merit further investigation; see preliminarily Kim 2011, Lin 2020, 18–20.

For a fairly comprehensive list of Mazu's state-conferred titles, see Lin 1980, 159–168; Wiethoff 1966; Cai 2006; Cai 2016. It has not been possible for historians to compile in full and reconstruct accurately the details of her titles and the circumstances leading to their conferral, as the sources show many discrepancies with regard to the date of the title grants, the Chinese characters used, and the number of characters granted.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄 (Record of the Celestial Consort Manifesting Divinity) (Taiwan wen xian cong kan 台灣文獻叢刊, vol. 77, 1960), 27–28. This text has a German translation and commentary by Wädow 1992. The character ji 濟 can also mean 'to help', 'to relieve' generally, and was used in countless cult titles in China.


Yuan dynasty


Ming dynasty

1372: Sagely Consort of Sympathetic Response, Trusted Salvation, Pure Righteousness, and Illustrious Filial Piety (zhao xiao chun zheng fu ji gan ying sheng fei 昭孝純 正孚濟感應聖妃).20

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 1, 28.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 1, 28–29; Tian shang sheng mu yuan liu yin guo 天上聖母源流因 果 (Origins, Developments, and Retributions of the Divine Matriarch in the Heavens Above) (printed together with 天妃顯聖錄 in Taiwan wen xian cong kan 台灣文獻叢刊, vol. 77, 1960), 56.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 1, 28–29.

Tian hou shen mu shen ji tu zhi 天后聖母聖蹟圖志 (Pictorial Record of the Divine Deeds of the Heavenly Consort, Sagely Mother) 1898 reprint, in Wang Jianchuan 王見川 et al, eds., Ming Qing min jian zong jiao jing juan wen xian xu bian 明清民間宗教經卷文獻續編 (Scriptural Texts of Popular Religions During Ming and Qing, Second Collection) (Taibei: Xin wenfeng chuban gongsi 新文豐出版公司, 2006), vol. 7, juan 1.37a.

Tian hou shen mu shen ji tu zhi 天后聖母聖蹟圖志, juan 1.37; Song huiyao 宋會要 (The Collected Important Documents from the Song) (Beijing, Zhong hua shu ju, 1957), Li 21: 32.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 1, 3, 29.

Yuan shi 元史 (History of Yuan) (Beijing, Zhong hua shu ju, 1967), juan 10.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, p. 3. Noting that large-scale transport of grain from China did not begin until the following year (1282), Wiethoff 1966, 323–325 thought that the title in 1281 was granted before rather than after the transport of grain, more as a way of obliging the goddess to grant protection than to thank her for protection received.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 7–8.

1409: Heavenly Consort of Universal Salvation, Magnanimous Benevolence, Illustrious Response, Wondrous Efficacy, who Defends the People and Protects the State (hu guo pi min miao ling zhao ying hong ren pu ji tian fei 護國庇民妙靈昭 應弘仁普濟天妃).<sup>21</sup>

Qing dynasty 1684: Empress of Heaven (tian hou 天后).22

This list of titles reads somewhat like an impressive curriculum vitae of a distinguished mortal. Various onomastic characteristics of Chinese deities can be observed. A god's title typically combines two components: a rank (Lady, Consort, Empress; underlined above for ease of identification), preceded by a number of descriptive characters qualifying it. Between the Song and Ming dynasties the vast majority of Mazu's titles are vague and general descriptions of her divine nature: some refer to her protective power ("Universal Salvation", "who Defends the People", "who Protects the State"), others point to her benevolent and kindly nature ("Magnanimous Benevolence") or the blessings she conferred ("Blessing", "Favour/Grace"), and still others emphasize her efficacy and responsiveness ("Illustrious Manifestation", "Wondrous Efficacy", "Illustrious Response"). The broad and unspecific nature of these titles has the advantage of accommodating a wide range of her competencies. In contrast to the "functional" epithets in early Greece, such as Poseidon's title Soter in 480 BCE seen earlier, these state-conferred titles of Chinese deities were mainly honorific rather than functional in nature, that is, they served more to honour and recognize the gods than to identify a relevant aspect of their power, though the distinction is sometimes blurred: Mazu's titles "who Defends the people", "who Protects the state" can be both. In the Yuan dynasty the adjective tian "Heavenly/Celestial" – similar in meaning to Ourania in Greek – was added to qualify her rank "Consort" (fei) and to specify her activities in the heavenly realm. It was not until the middle and the late Qing dynasty, when China was threatened by internal and external instabilities, that Mazu received many titles specific to sea transport and naval security, such as "who Quells Billows", an lan 安瀾; "who Benefits Transport", li yun 利 運; "who Calms Waves", tian bo 恬波; "who Pacifies Oceans", jing yang 靖洋; "who Guards Canals", wei cao 衛漕. <sup>23</sup> Many of her titles listed above can find rough equivalents in Greek cult epithets: epekoos ("who listens"), epiphanes ("manifest"), galenaia ("calmer"), meilichios ("gentle/gracious"), ouranios/ourania ("of heaven"), poliouchos

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 2, 8.

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 2, 10–13; Tian shang sheng mu yuan liu yin guo 天上聖母源流因 果, 63.

E.g. Tian shang sheng mu yuan liu yin guo 天上聖母源流因果, 63–64; Qin ding da Qing hui dian shi li (Guang Xu chao) 欽定大清會典事例 (光緒朝) (Imperially Authorized Cases to the Code of the Great Qing, Guang Xu era) (Shang hai gu ji chu ban she 上海古籍出版社 Xu xiu si ku quan shu 續修四庫全書), juan 445, vol. 8, 114, 115, 116. See Wiethoff 1966, 349; Wädow 1996, 84–85, 97.

("protecting a city"), soter/soteira ("saviour"), and so on. There is perhaps no point in trying to assemble an inventory of which Chinese or Greek titles had equivalents in the other culture given the vast amount of data; what is noteworthy is that similar hopes and desires were projected onto the gods' titles in both systems of naming.

Under the Song system, in principle any god who proved efficacious could be honoured by new titles: by increasing the number of characters attached to his rank, by changing the existing characters, by giving him a higher rank, or by a combination of these.24 The process is set out in an imperial decree in 1083:

Grant temple plaques to all temple with no noble titles. Add titles – first "marquis" (hou), then "lord" (kung), then "king" (wang) – to those temples that already have plaques. For those who held ranks when alive, let them keep their original rank. For females, first give them the title "lady" (fu ren), then "consort" (fei). These titles should first contain two characters and then four more can be added. If one does like this, the bestowal of titles will harness (the power of) the deities and the system of granting imperial favours will be orderly.<sup>25</sup>

The ranks "marquis", "lord", and "king" were titles used for the feudal lords in the feng jian system (which was no longer in use in Song time), whereas "lady" and "consort" were ranks for women within the imperial court; here they were transposed from the human to the divine world to create, as it were, a system of honours for the gods and goddesses. By contrast, Greek cult epithets had no bearings on the rankings of the gods; while hierarchies among the Greek gods might be identifiable in a given pantheon, their positions in a pantheon was not indicated by the cult epithets which they carried. The closest we come to Greek epithets indicating the status of a god is the title basileus ("King"), used usually (though not exclusively) for Zeus,<sup>26</sup> and its feminine forms basileia or basilissa, which are attested for various goddesses.<sup>27</sup> Apart from basileus/basileia, in Classical poetry and prose dedications of later periods there are various terms such as kyrios/kyria, anax/anassa, despotes/despoina, and potnia, which all roughly mean 'master/mistress' and which appear to be extensions from the human realm.<sup>28</sup> Nevertheless, except for the application of basileus to Zeus, who was

See Hansen 1990, 80–84; Hymes 2002, 181.

Song huiyao, Li 20:6b–7a (trans. adapted from Hansen). The phrase yu shen (馭神) is interesting: Hansen translates it as "govern the deities"; however, more than "govern", "manage" or "control", the verb yu here seems to convey the sense of bringing the gods under control and using their power, hence my adapted translation "harness (the power of) the deities".

Zeus Basileus: e.g. Hes. Th. 886 (Ζεὺς δὲ θεῶν βασιλεὺς); X. An. 6.1.22; IG VII 3073, l. 90, 93 (Lebadeia in Boeotia); IG VII 4136 (Akraiphia); I.Erythrai Klazomenai 201.a.77 = DB MAP T#472 (Erythrae).

Basileia/Basilissa: e.g. IG II/III² 13252.9 = DB MAP S#3544 (Hera); I.Estremo Oriente 245 = DB MAP S#7166 (Athena); ASAA 22 (1939/40), 152, 8 = DB MAP S#11262 (Aphrodite); I.Égypte métriques nos. 167.3 = DB MAP T#4262; 169.6 = DB MAP T#4293 (Isis).

E.g. A. Th. 152 (Potnia Hera); E. Hipp. 44–45 (ὁ πόντιος ἄναξ Ποσειδῶν); IG II2 4347 = DB MAP S#5055 (Despoina Pallas); IGBulg III.2, 1772 (Despotes Theon Apollo); IG XII.6 573 = DB MAP S#9583 (Kyria Hera); SEG 35, 1470 = DB MAP S#42 (Kyrios Helios); I.Knidos 148.B.5–6 = DB MAP T#15473 (Despoina Demeter). These have been studied by Parker 2017, 5–6, 135–136, 139–141. On anax/anassa, see also Hemberg 1955.

the king of gods, the application of these terms did not indicate a particular rank or status occupied by the god or goddess thus named in a divine hierarchy: these are expressions showing respect rather than markers of divine status.

The 1083 decree quoted above sets the maximum number of characters attached to the ranks at six (excluding the final character(s) denoting the rank), whereas a later Song decree in 1129 increased this to eight.<sup>29</sup> To return to Mazu's example, in 1183 the goddess reached a maximum of eight characters as "Lady" (fu ren), and for the next honour conferred in 1190, she was promoted to the rank of "Consort" (fei) with two characters attached. In subsequent periods the regulations were changed again: in the Qing dynasty, the maximum number of characters allowed for a god's title was as high as forty, and even so the rule was sometimes broken.<sup>30</sup> The accumulation of titles by Chinese divinities and the honorific nature of these titles make them remarkably similar to what Parker calls "praise epithets" in the Greek world – the practice, common in the Roman imperial period, of amassing cult titles as a way of acclaiming or emphasizing a god's power.31 An example of this type is 'goddess Kore listening invincible heavenly' attested in Chios. Most remarkable is a thank-offering in Rome dedicated "to Zeus Helios Great Sarapis Saviour Wealth-Giver Listener Benefactor Invincible Mithras". <sup>32</sup> Whereas the "functional" epithets of the earlier periods served to identify a relevant divine function, these later Greek epithets served mainly to glorify the gods and emphasize their power. Both kinds of epithet co-existed in the later periods, sometimes appearing alongside each other.

Despite the apparent similarities between the Greek praise epithets and the Chinese cult titles, however, various important differences need to be stressed. Though the use of multiple epithets in Greek religion was also honorific, the length of a god's title was symbolic in significance but not a reflection of the extent of his power or a formal level of honour. By contrast, in the Chinese system under discussion, the precise number of characters conferred on a Chinese divinity actually mattered: the greater the number of characters attached to the name of a god, the greater is his merit to the state and therefore the honour assigned him and the prerogatives that came with it (see below). Another major difference is that the Greek system of cult epithets made no attempts to rank the gods in a divine hierarchy. The position occupied by a Greek god in a given pantheon was neither designated nor defined by the

The original 1129 edict is no longer extant, but its content is cited in other imperial edicts, e.g. in Song edicts bestowing titles on the Patriarch of the Clear Stream, collected in Dean 1993, appendix I, nos. 2–3.

In the Qing dynasty, Mazu was exceptionally given more than forty characters for her title: see Qin ding da Qing hui dian shi li 欽定大清會典事例, juan 446, vol. 8, 123.

Parker 2017, ch. 5.

Graf 1985, 70, 461 = DB MAP S#4363 (θεᾶι Κόρῃ Ἐπηκόῳ Ἀνεικήτῳ Οὐρανίᾳ εὐχαριστ ̣ ήριον); RICIS 501/0126 = DB MAP T#17976 (Διὶ Ἡλίῳ μεγάλῳ Σαράπιδι σωτῆρι πλουτοδοτῃ ἐπηκόῳ εὐεργέτῃ ἀνεικήτῳ Μίθρᾳ χαριστήριον). It is disputed whether the second last word is a dedicator Μίθρα or a divine recipient Μίθρᾳ ("to Mithras").

epithets he carried. Even though a Greek god might move up the hierarchy of a civic pantheon if he proved particularly useful to the state, such hierarchies were left implicit but never stated in cult epithets. What is broadly similar in both systems under study is that having many titles was an indicator of a god's standing and prestige, even though the significance attached to the length of titles was different.<sup>33</sup>

# 2 Naming Processes and Implications

How, then, did the gods acquire cult titles? This seemingly simple question is difficult to answer for the Greek gods: the evidence is silent on the processes of how epithets were chosen. The extent to which the choice of epithets was publicly controlled by the Greek poleis is likely to differ depending on the nature of the cult concerned and to vary from one case to another. A temple or monument set up at public expense, for instance, might involve discussion in the polis, though the finer details can only be guessed but not reconstructed. Where initiatives came from private worshippers, it seems clear that individual Greeks did not need to seek approval from the state for worshipping a god under a certain epithet, whether they were using an existing epithet or coining a new one. In Panticapaeum in the Bosporus, an admiral dedicated to Poseidon Sosineos ("Ship-saving") and Aphrodite Nauarchis ("Mistress of Ships"); the epithets were probably fashioned by the admiral to reflect his concern with maritime safety on the one hand and his role as nauarchos on the other.<sup>34</sup> Also remarkable is a woman's dedication to Eileithyia under the double epithets Sozousa Episozousa ("Saving", "Saving once again"): whereas Sozousa commemorates her personal safety in a recent childbirth, the form Episozousa has no parallel and is presumably fashioned by the woman to pray for continued protection by the goddess.35 The open nature of Greek polytheism allowed freedom in the choice of gods as much as in the use of epithets. Within the organizing framework provided by the polis, there was room for individual choice and a level of creativity, a fact which the "polis religion" model often associated with Sourvinou-Inwood does not seek to deny.<sup>36</sup>

If the Greeks did not and need not consult the polis, they might nevertheless consult an oracle.37 In a passage of his Laws, Plato emphasizes that "in respect of which gods and shrines should be established in the polis by each group and what gods or

On polyonymy, see e.g. Bricault 1994, 69–70; Bonnet 2019.

CIRB 30. Wallensten 2008, 92 n. 48, discusses the double meaning of Nauarchis Aphrodite as mistress of the fleet and as the admiral's Aphrodite.

IG II/III<sup>3</sup> 4, 1152 = DB MAP S#2958. The prefix ἐπί has the force of "in addition to": LSJ s.v. ἐπί, LSJ Supplement, s.v. ἐπισῴζω. This dedication is discussed in Jim 2022, 107.

Sourvinou-Inwood 1990. For an appraisal of the critiques of the "polis religion" model, see Parker 2011, 57–61, Parker 2018.

See also Palamidis in this volume, 604–606.

daimons they should be named after (ὧντινων ἐπονομάζεσθαι θεῶν ἢ δαιμόνων)", one should adhere to divine instructions from oracles and epiphanies.<sup>38</sup> It was common practice in ancient Greece to consult oracles about cult foundations or religious remedies for particular problems; in response the oracles might advise a community to worship a god under a particular title or titles. In the second century BCE, the Milesians, apparently troubled by earthquakes, consulted Apollo at Didyma and were advised to propriate Asphale(i)os ("Securer") Poseidon with sacrifices. Asphaleios is among the epithets which recur in oracular-prescribed cults. Oracles might advise or sanction cultic matters, but even here – contrary to the strict adherence emphasized by Plato – there was room for variation from what was recommended: in the sacrifices conducted to Poseidon Asphale(i)os ("Securer") for the Milesians after the oracle was consulted, two more epithets, Soter ("Saviour") and Megas ("Great"), were added to the one prescribed by Apollo,39 probably to intensify the force of Asphale(i)os and to express the pressing concern to be "saved" by the "great" power of the god.

Much more is known about the process of granting cult titles to the gods in Song China, and a key difference lies in the role played by the state. Caution is needed here as the word "state" refers to very different entities in Greece and China: ancient Greece was not a unitary state but was made up of over 1000 poleis in the Classical period, each of which had its own form of government and organized its religious affairs, whereas Song China had a central government headed by the emperor. From the Song onwards the government developed an elaborate process for conferring titles and honours on the gods.

Under the 1075 regulation mentioned earlier, if a god was particularly effective in answering prayers, in principle anyone could bring this to the attention of the central government.40 Thus the 1150 inscription at Shengdun quoted at the beginning mentions that when the envoy Lu Yundi returned home, "he gave a report to the court" (about the goddess).41 Numerous other documents similarly mention "reports" to the state as regards the gods' power. These reports need not have come from state officials such as Lu Yundi, who witnessed and experienced first hand the deity's power; individuals and local communities could similarly petition the state via their local officials to award titles to a god who brought major benefits. These petitions were based on miracles performed by the gods, such as in bringing rain, protecting the harvest, healing the sick, deliverance from plagues, protection from external attacks, safety at sea, and so on.42 The socio-economic conditions of Song China are largely comparable to ancient Greece:

Pl. Lg. 738b-c.

I.Didyma 132 = Fontenrose 1988, 190 no. 14 = DB MAP S#12828. On other epithets often favoured in oracular prescriptions, see Carbon 2015, esp. 77–78 (Artemis Orthosia, Zeus Patroios in Dodona oracles), Parker 2017, 25–26.

Though Kanai 1993, 264–266, emphasizes the role of fu lao 父老 ('elders') in this process.

Jian/Zheng 2007, no. 1.

See the miracles collected in Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, passim.

it was predominantly agricultural in nature while trade and commerce were taking off, and so the blessings sought from the gods overlap to a large extent with those in ancient Greece. In Chinese as in Greek religion, therefore, it was predominantly the case that the gods had to earn their titles on the basis of particular benefits to mankind. What is different is that China had an elaborate state mechanism for reporting these miracles and verifying the gods' deeds and power.

After a petition was submitted by worshippers or worshipping groups, there followed an elaborate process for checking and verifying their claims. The complicated process has been reconstructed by Hansen and Kanai: the county magistrate would first need to approve the petition, and then the fiscal intendant would send two officials, one from the neighbouring county and another from elsewhere, to check with the local population that the claims about the god were true. When these checks were complete, the matter would be reported to the central government, where a series of further checks and approvals by different government offices would follow: the Board of Rites would check the claims once more before the Court of Imperial Sacrifice suggested a provisional title. If the recommendation was approved by the Board of Rites, finally the Imperial Secretariat would draft an edict bestowing the title.43 Our knowledge of this complicated process is owed in part to the edicts which have survived: we shall look at one example concerning Mazu shortly.<sup>44</sup>

This Chinese system of state-conferred titles had various implications which cult epithets did not have in ancient Greece. The first aspect is practical and financial. Any god receiving temple plaques or titles from the state would qualify for state-sponsored sacrifices in the Spring and Autumn, and the rank and length of his title would have implications on the scale of the sacrifice, the organization of state-sponsored festivals, the scale, splendour and upkeeping of the temples, and so on.45 In ancient Greece, by contrast, there was no correlation between the gods' cult epithets and the scale of their sacrifices and other cultic honours, though what is common to Greece and China is that a major deed performed by a god might lead to the establishment or expansion of his cult and other honours. A second implication concerns the official status of the cult in Chinese religion: any god who successfully went through the above process of recommendation and verification would be included in the government's Register of Sacrifices (sidian 祀 典), a central record of those cults officially recognized by the state.46 A title for a Chinese deity was therefore a mark that his cult was approved by the government, whereas un-

Hansen 1990, esp. 90–91; Kanai 1993, 259–267. For translations of titles of Chinese officials and institutional terms, see Hucker 1985.

See e.g. the important dossiers of documents in Dean 1993, appendices I–II, which contain Song edicts bestowing titles on the Patriarch of the Clear Stream and on the Reverent Lord of Broad Compassion; see also Sakai 2020 on the case of Lushan and Maoshan.

See e.g. Song huiyao, Li 20: 1–2.

Apart from a central register of sacrifices, there were apparently also local registers of sacrifices: see Song huiyao, Li 20: 9b.

recognized cults were (in principle) prohibited and could be destroyed. Consequently in Song China the granting of titles by the state went hand in hand with a god's incorporation into the state pantheon, by contrast, in ancient Greece these were two independent phenomena separate from each other:47 the incorporation of new gods into the civic pantheon of Greek cities would need state approval, yet the possession of epithets or the lack thereof had no bearing on the god's status in the civic pantheon. The Chinese system of cult titles therefore created a distinction between state-approved cults and other, unrecognized cults, a distinction which hardly existed in Greek polytheism.48

# 3 Religious Beliefs and Mentality

The discussion so far has focused on the theoretical and institutional aspects. Divine names can additionally reveal much about worshippers' religious beliefs and conceptions of the divine, which overlap and differ in various respects in Greek and Chinese polytheism.

As in Greek polytheism, Chinese polytheism is underpinned by the expectation of a reciprocal relation between humans and the divine. This is evident in the language of some imperial edicts granting titles to the Chinese deities, as in the 1281 edict for Mazu, which is quoted in part as follows:

In the eighteenth year of the Zhiyuan reign (1281) of Yuan Emperor Shizong, the edict awarding the title "Heavenly Consort of Illustrious Manifestation who Protects the State":

You are the deity who protects the sea routes, maritime and water transport are dependent on you. Your power and efficacy have been splendid; your responses and miracles have been illustrious. Ever since I (the Emperor) assumed the rule, I have not granted you honorific titles. My officials have requested them, as is fitting according to the rites. Now I send Pu Shiwen, Grand Master for Proper Service, Pacification Commissioner, Left Deputy Chief Military Commander, who is currently Maritime Trade Supervisor of Fujian Circuit, to confer you the title of "Heavenly Consort of Illustrious Manifestation who Protects the State". You have warded off disasters and prevented catastrophes, and your merits are recorded in the Register of Sacrifice. Since your merit in assisting with my rule has been especially great, the rituals to worship you should also be particularly generous. May you commit to the new enfeoffment by protecting our people and assisting our state. Then our worship and sacrifice for you will continue for all generations without end!49

This 1281 edict, issued shortly after Mazu became "Heavenly Consort", shows the Emperor addressing the goddess directly in the second person. After stressing the contributions on account of which the goddess deserved honours and recognition, the

Though we cannot rule out the possibility that a god might have an epithet when first introduced into the local pantheon.

An anomalous case concerns Socrates, who was prosecuted for "not acknowledging the gods the city acknowledges, and introducing other, new powers" and for "corrupting the youth".

Tian fei xian sheng lu 天妃顯聖錄, 3 (transl. adapted from Yang).

Emperor announces her new titles and ends by expressing the hope that she will continue to extend her blessings to the state. Imperial edicts of this kind are usually couched in terms of benefaction and reciprocity: their language is strikingly similar to honorific decrees for civic benefactors in the Greek world.<sup>50</sup> Differently from the Greek honorific decrees for benefactors, however, which could only hope but not oblige their honorands to confer benefits again, the degree of obligation was much stronger for Chinese divinities thus honoured. The emperor speaks as if he is enlisting the goddess's assistance and giving her a public duty: "may you commit to the new enfeoffment (ming 命) by protecting our people and assisting our state". The word ming ("enfeoffment", "appointment") refers to the imperial decision to confer a new rank or title on a god, and accompanying every new title granted seems to be a clear expectation that the god would continue to do even more good. One strand of Chinese thought is to see the gods as heavenly officials serving the government, who could be dismissed or rewarded depending on their performance. The edict goes on to state that, if the goddess performs her duties, then "our worship and sacrifices will continue for all generations without end!". A central feature of Greek and Chinese polytheism is the gods' efficacy, in return for which they are given worship. The give-and-take relationship is implied in thousands of Greek prayers and dedicatory inscriptions; Greek epithets often carried the hope that the gods would continue to perform the function expressed by the epithet, but the expectation is put much more strongly and explicitly in Chinese sources.

Both the Greeks and the Chinese imagined the gods as desiring honours, but one strand of Chinese thought seems to suppose that the gods desired titles just like human beings. The Song author Hong Mai, who recorded anecdotes of encounters between humans and the divine, tells of a dream epiphany in which a local god in Ningdu appeared to a mortal and asked "how can I get a title?":

In the early years of the Chongning reign (1102–1106), a local scholar Sun Xie, curtesy name Zhikang, dreamt of being invited by a white-bearded old man to his home. The old man asked: "What I should do to be awarded a title?" Thinking that the old man must be a god, Sun replied: "You should perform hidden merits, and do not just afflict people."

The old man said: "I have never harmed people. I am the Receptionist Censor at the Celestial Gate in charge of day-to-day disasters and blessings of the locals . . ."

Sun said: "People's utmost concerns are with floods and droughts each year. If you could do your best to save them, the Prefect and Commander will surely report your merits to the court. You will immediately be awarded a title." Sun woke up and knew that the old man was Hu Taigong ("Grandfather Hu").<sup>51</sup>

On honorific decrees for civic benefactors in the Greek world, see e.g. Gauthier 1985; Henry 1996; Grzesik 2021.

Hong Mai 洪邁, Yi jian ding zhi 夷堅丁志 (The Fourth Instalment of Record of the Listener), annotated by He Zhuo 何卓 (Beijing: Zhong hua shu ju, 1981), juan 10, "Tian men shou shi" 天門授事 (Receptionist Censor at the Celestial Gate) (transl. adapted from Yang).

Four years later, a fire broke out in the county but was extinguished when people prayed in the shrine. After the miracle was reported to the court, the temple was awarded the title "Temple of Broad Salvation", and in the following year the god was honoured under the title of "Marquis of Remarkable Efficacy".

It is difficult to find parallels in which the Greek gods sought titles from human beings or showed concerns for their titles or the lack thereof.52 The closest we come to gods seeking honours (but not titles specifically) are epiphanies by gods demanding worship. Dedications often mention that they are set up κατὰ πρόσταγμα ("in accordance with divine command").<sup>53</sup> Particularly interesting is the manifestation by Pan during the Persian Wars: Herodotus tells how, before the battle of Marathon, Pan appeared to the Athenian long-distance runner Philippides in Mount Parthenion above Tegea, and asked him to say to the Athenians: "Why do you ignore me, when I am a friend of Athens? I have often been of service to you in the past, and will be again in the future too." When the Athenians heard Pan's message, they "believed these things to be true" (πιστεύσαντες εἶναι ἀληθέα), though they were cautious enough to wait until they had a favourable outcome in the battle before establishing a sanctuary for Pan on the acropolis and worshipping him with annual sacrifices and a torch race.54 Without specifying what kinds of honours he desired, Pan was demanding recognition of his power. While in Greek religion the emphasis is on divine honours broadly conceived (with epithets being one possible form among many), in Song China a greater emphasis was put on gods' titles specifically.

### 4 Popular Ways of Addressing the Gods

The Chinese material discussed so far has concentrated on cult titles granted by the state. To what extent, then, were these impressive strings of titles used by ordinary worshippers when invoking the gods? How did the people address the gods in everyday practice?

In contrast to Greek cult epithets, which constituted a way of addressing and communicating with the gods, the state-conferred titles for the Chinese deities constituted primarily a form of honour and recognition and were not common in actual addresses to the gods. In the case of Mazu, only two of her many state-conferred titles

Cf. Call. Dian. 6–7, where Artemis demands many names (and therefore timai) from Zeus, but this is to make her a powerful goddess with many competencies rather than to increase her fame and standing.

Kατὰ πρόσταγμα: e.g. IG II<sup>2</sup> 4671, I.Délos 2100–2109 = DB MAP S#10107, 10134, 10192, 10243, 10261, 10262. On dedications set up in accordance with dream visions and divine commands, see van Straten 1976; Pleket 1981, 158–159.

Hdt. 6.105–106 (transl. Waterfield), with Paus. 1.28.4; Mikalson 2003, 27–28; Hornblower/Pelling 2017, 230–231.

were frequently used by the people. After the Yuan dynasty, "Heavenly Consort" (tian fei) became an increasingly standardized way of referring to her in official and semiofficial documents (such as hagiographical accounts and temple inscriptions), and found its way into popular forms of address to the goddess; then in the Qing dynasty this was used interchangeably with "Empress of Heaven" (tian hou). Apart from these two titles, the long string of characters attached to her rank were rarely used to address the goddess in lived religion. By contrast, in ancient Greece there were no sharp differences in how a Greek polis and private worshippers addressed the gods, even though individuals might – as we have seen in the grateful woman's fashioning of Episozousa – select from the repertoire of available epithets and adapt them according to their own situation with a certain degree of originality. Divine naming in the "public" and "private" spheres of Greek religion converged to a large extent, and cross-fertilization and mutual influence must have been been common.

In Chinese popular religion, the goddess under study is most commonly known as Mazu, which is the way I have been referring to her throughout this analysis. The name "Mazu" (媽祖) literally means "maternal ancestor" and appears to be a short form of "Mazu po" (媽祖婆), the final character of which can mean "old woman" or "grandmother". Both are affectionate kinship terms roughly meaning "Granny". <sup>55</sup> The origins of the name Mazu can no longer be traced, but it is commonly used in the Fujian region. Even after "Heavenly Consort" (tian fei) and "Empress of Heaven" (tian hou) became increasingly standard ways of referring to the goddess in the later periods, 'Mazu' continued to be the preferred form of address among certain groups of the populace. A Qing scholar thus explains why "Mazu" might be preferrable when invoking the goddess at sea:

Lu Guanglin, an Advanced Title holder in my local village, once remarked: "The deity's traces of miracles are especially many in Taiwan. Local people call the deity Maternal Ancestor (Mazu). At times when they encounter perilous winds and waves, if they call upon Mazu, the deity will come with her hair still hanging loose; and the efficacy (of summoning the deity) will show immediately. If, however, they call upon the Heavenly Consort, then the deity would arrive surely in headdress and gown, thus causing delay. Mazu as she is called is probably how people of Min (present-day Fujian province) address their maternal family." 56

Regardless of the underlying theology and the relative effectiveness of calling upon "Mazu" and the "Heavenly Consort" (tian fei), this passage shows that in some contexts and/or some quarters of Chinese population "Mazu" was the more commonly used form of address than the officially-conferred "Heavenly Consort".

According to Cai 2016, 7, in the vernacular of the southern Min (閩南) "Ma" refers to "grandmother" and "Zu" refers to "great-grandmother", both of whom symbolize a kindly ancestral figure. Zhao Yi 趙翼, Gai yu cong kao 陔餘叢考 (Various Investigations after Fulfilling Filial Piety) (Shanghai: Shanghai gu ji chu ban she, 2011), juan 35, 688–689 (transl. adapted from Yang).

Another colloquial form of address to the goddess is shen gu 神姑 (literally "Divine aunt"). The second character gu is the kinship term for the elder sister of one's father, and might be used as a reverential term by rural populations for illustrious women.<sup>57</sup> A Qing author tells how, even in his time, when the women of the Lin lineage in Meizhou (whence Mazu came) went to work in the fields, they would leave their children in the goddess' temple, saying "Gu, look after my child!", and for the whole day the children would neither cry nor be hungry.<sup>58</sup> Here the choice of address is likely to have been affected by context and not just reflecting local habitual use: it would be unseemly to entrust the Empress of Heaven with babysitting, and it would be more appropriate to address her as gu ("auntie"), as if one's child had some genealogical link with her.59 The fact that Mazu came from the island of Meizhou might also have allowed the local women to claim a special relation with the goddess. This is an example where naming strategies mattered when approaching the gods in particular contexts.

The use of kinship terms in addressing the gods permeated Chinese religious language but was uncommon in Greek religion. With a few exceptions, it was outside the norm of Greek naming to address the gods using terms in human family relations. Zeus is attested under the epithet of πατήρ, and may be regarded as the "Father of men and gods" in the sense that he ruled over them;<sup>60</sup> Earth (Ge) may be called "Mother Earth" in her role as the source of all life.61 Demeter could be referred to as ἡ Μήτηρ ("Mother"), but this indicates her relation to Kore and not to worshippers.<sup>62</sup> Outside this handful of cases, it would be unusual if not unthinkable for individual Greeks to construe their relations to the gods in kinship terms (with the possible exception of the Macedonian and Hellenistic kings, who claimed descent from the gods).63 Even for these isolated cases just mentioned the terms convey the sense that

Watson 1985, 295.

Yu Yonghe 郁永河, Pi hai ji you 裨海紀遊 (Records of Travel on a Small Sea) (Taibei: Cheng wen chu ban she, 1983), hai shang ji lue 海上紀略, 109–110; Tian hou shen mu shen ji tu zhi 天后聖母聖蹟圖 志, juan 1.38.

Though it is possible that children were offered to some Chinese deities for ritual adoption.

E.g. Hom. Il. 4.235; Pi. P. 4.194; Pi. N. 8.35; A. Th. 512; Ar. Ach. 223–224.

E.g. Hes. Op. 563, Pi. O. 7.38, Pi. P. 4.74, E. Hipp. 601.

Hdt. 8.65. For another example of a goddess being described as "mother" in her relation to another god, cf. Pi. I. 5.1 (Μᾶτερ Ἀελίου πολυώνυμε Θεία).

E.g. Hatzopoulos 1996, vol. 2, 50, no. 30 = SEG 46, 829 = DB MAP S#16100: a second-century dedication in Vergina to Heracles Patroios, apparently in the form of a statue of king Perseus, set up by his sons. Here Heracles Patroios might be regarded as the "divine ancestor" of members of the Macedonian royal house, and not just "god of their fathers". On πατρῷοι θεοί, see Parker 2008 (204, 210 on this inscription). Cf. the fourth-century dedication from the Bahariya Oasis published in Bosch-Puche 2008, 37–38 = SEG 59, 1764, which reads "King Alexander to his father Ammon" (Βασιλεὺς Ἀλέξ<α>νδρος Ἄμμωνι ̣τ[ῶ]ι ̣πατρί).

Zeus and Earth were a source of sovereignty and life respectively rather than a sense of intimacy with worshippers.

# 5 Conclusion

At first sight the system of granting titles to the gods in Song China was so official and bureaucratic in nature that it seems incomparable to the phenomenon of cult epithets in ancient Greece. On closer examination, however, the two systems of divine naming had much in common but also important differences. In both cases the gods might be given titles in recognition of specific deeds performed. In both Greek and Chinese polytheism divine names carry the hope and expectation that the gods might continue to dispense the blessings or exercise the power expressed in their titles, though this expectation was put much more strongly and explicitly in Chinese sources. In the Chinese system under discussion, the long string of titles attached to the gods was primarily honorific in nature; it was a marker of their status and official recognition of their power. Even though the significance attached to divine titles is different in Greece and China, the underlying principle of do ut des between men and gods is broadly the same.

Rather different was the role of the state and its level of control. In ancient Greece, it was up to communities and individuals to decide if a certain title was appropriate to a god in a given situation. In China, even though the state was not the sole agent or body in the process of divine naming,<sup>64</sup> it is evident that it played a much more prominent role than did the Greek states. In Song China there existed an elaborate process of recommending a god, verifying his miracles, and awarding cult titles by the state, so much so that it was comparable to the canonisations of saints in Medieval Europe.65 At the same time, this official system did not eliminate individual freedom in choosing the gods to which to turn and which forms of address to use when invoking them. Ways of referring to and communicating with the gods remained as unregulated in China as in Greece, and different ways of addressing and representing the same gods prevailed in lived religion. Therefore there existed in Chinese popular religion the same kind of flexibility, diversity, and even messiness with which ancient historians are familiar in Greek polytheism. The phenomenon thus raises important questions of the religious authority of the state, the varying perceptions and representations of the gods, and the dynamic interactions between the state and individuals in polytheistic societies.

Some scholars have nevertheless questioned the centrality of the state in the process in the case of China: e.g. Goossaert (2021).

The canonisation of saints in Medieval Europe placed much importance on the vita et miracula of the saints, see e.g. Goodich 1975; Delloz 1983; Klaniczay 2004.

# Bibliography


Examples and the Impact of the Titles on the Formation of Beliefs about Deities), in: Hua ren zong jiao yan jiu 華人宗教研究 (Studies in Chinese Religions) 9, 45–77.

Kim, Sang-bum (2011), "宋代祠廟政策的變化與地域社會一以福州地域為中心" (The Change of Chi-Miao (祠廟) Policy during the Song Dynasty and Local Community: Focusing on the Fuzhou (福州) Region), in: Taiwan shi da li shi xue bao 臺灣師大歷史學報 (Journal of Historical Study, Normal University of Taiwan) 46, 141–168.

Klaniczay, Gábor (2004), Procès de canonisation au Moyen Âge, Rome.


Mikalson, Jon D. (2003), Herodotus and Religion in the Persian Wars, London.


Ruitenbeek, Klaas (1999), "Mazu, the Patroness of Sailors, in Chinese Pictorial Art", in: Artibus Asiae 58, 281–329.

Sakai Norifumi 酒井規史 (2000), "Nansō jidai ni okeru dōkyō no kami eno kahō: Rozan to Bōzan no jirei o chushin ni" 南宋時代における道教の神への加封 – 盧山と茅山の事例を中心に (The Official Granting of the Additional Titles to Taoist Deities in Southern Song China: Concerning the Case of Lushan and Maoshan), in 慶應義塾大学日吉紀要. 中国研究 (The Hiyoshi Review of Chinese Studies) 13, 39–69.


# Jutta Jokiranta Divine Names in Ritual Settings in the Dead Sea Scrolls

Abstract: Previous studies on the Dead Sea Scrolls have focused on the use of the name Yhwh (Tetragrammaton) and its replacement with other names, especially El, Elohim, Adonaj, personal pronouns, and occasionally, four dots. The prevalent theory of simple avoidance of the Tetragrammaton is currently being reassessed. The sectarian scrolls favour the name El over Yhwh but so does Aramaic literary material. The name Yhwh or its shorter forms are also widely attested in Hebrew biblical and nonbiblical scrolls and in Greek evidence. Our first case study examines the ban on using Divine names in the Qumran rule documents. I argue that the context of this ban, the giving of oaths, should discourage any overly hasty conclusions about the overall pronouncing of the Tetragrammaton. More importantly for the ritual setting, the Dead Sea Scrolls testify to a great deal of communication with the Divine (in prayers and hymns, worship as a community, reception of secret knowledge, visions of the heavens). The second case study is about the efficacy of the Divine name in exorcism and protection. Some scrolls evoke the Divine name whereas others consider praise itself an effective way of warding off evil. The third case study explores how the Divine name is difficult to identify in the midst of the overall manifestation of the divine power, glory and majesty in the heavenly temple and its praise.

# 1 Introduction

Largely understood, ritual settings in the Dead Sea Scrolls not only include explicit communication with the divine (prayers, hymns, laments, worship, revelation, secret knowledge, visions, prophecy, study sessions, meditation) but also ritual practices as commanded, expected or appreciated by the divine (such as Sabbath observance, oaths, purification).<sup>1</sup> From this angle, the scrolls include a great deal of material for the study of ritual practices and ritualization. Here, our focus is on the use of divine names, with texts addressed to the Divine, invoking the Divine or instructing on the use of the divine name being primary. However, literary texts are not ritual manuals and should not be taken as evidence of everyday practices as such. Recent scholarship has paid growing attention to material features of scrolls and made inferences that

Ritualization of action may take place in many ways; Grimes 2014, 185–230.

Note: I am greatly thankful for all the helpful comments received from the MAP project, especially Fabio Porzia, and from Jonathan Ben-Dov.

may be relevant for our understanding of their function, such as how easy a particular scroll was to handle or read, or which signs and practices guided the reading, and this information should be taken into account wherever relevant and available.2

The question of the use of the divine name Yhwh (Tetragrammaton) has attracted the most attention.3 It is not our focus here since it covers a lot of material that is not specifically ritualistic – unless the reading (or writing) of any biblical, sacred or precious text is considered to have some ritual aspects to it. We shall, however, present some of its research history. Scholars are now more critical about seeing any straightforward linear development between the use of the Tetragrammaton and its non-use; the reasons for its non-use may also not be the same in every case. The claim that the Tetragrammaton was not necessarily avoided as such but that some other divine name such as El or Elohim suited the interests of the scribes better is especially significant and worth exploring.4 Moreover, the previous focus on the use of the Tetragrammaton or Tetrapuncta has largely overlooked the investigation of other creative uses of divine names, titles and epithets, and it is my purpose to highlight some of these.

I will take up three case studies, starting with the re-evaluation of the divine name ban in the rule texts (S referring to the Community Rule [Serek ha-Yahad], and D for the Damascus Document). In contrast to this, the second case study shows how the divine name was meant to be used and had efficacy. Lastly, Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice is an example of texts where the characterisation and naming of the Divine are specifically and skilfully merged with the act of praise.

A brief introduction to the central sources discussed: Qumran manuscripts were discovered in the 1940–50s from eleven caves by the Dead Sea (1Q–11Q). Each (fragmentary) manuscript is given a numerical signum (e.g., 4Q266) and/or an abbreviation of the scholarly title given to the manuscript (such as 4QDa = Damascus Document, first manuscript version of many). Rule documents have rules and ideals about the formation, entry and assemblies of the movement: Community Rule (S = Serekh ha-Yahad), with Rule of the Congregation and Blessings (1QS-1QSa-1QSb, 4Q255–264, 5Q11) and Damascus Document (CD A, B, 4Q266–273, 5Q12, 6Q15). War Scroll (1QM, 4Q285, 4Q471, 4Q491–497, 11Q14) includes rules for the end-time war. Hodayot (1QHa‒<sup>b</sup> , 4Q427–432) is a large collection of psalms. Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q400–4Q407, 11Q17, Mas 1k) has (heavenly) Sabbath songs for the first quarter of a year. Berakhot (4Q286–290) have praise-blessings to God and curses against the opponents. Pesharim are commentaries on prophetic texts (e.g., Pesher Habakkuk 1QpHab). Temple Scroll (11QTa-b, 4Q524, 4Q365a) rewrites parts of the Pentateuch, with special focus on the temple.5

E.g., Pajunen 2020. Cf. Lied/Lundhaug 2017; Anderson 2020.

Most recently, Meyer 2022, see below.

E.g., Ben-Dov 2008; 2016; Kratz 2017, see below.

For brief introductions and a bibliography on central texts, see Brooke/Hempel 2016. For editions, see the series Discoveries in the Judaean Desert: http://orion.mscc.huji.ac.il/resources/djd.shtml.

First, I will take a brief look at previous studies on divine names and epithets, not (only) restricted to the question of use in the ritual setting.

### 2 Some History of Scholarship

Divine names in the Dead Sea Scrolls have not attracted a great deal of attention besides the writing of the name Yhwh (Tetragrammaton) with distinct signs (Tetrapuncta = four dots, or Paleo-Hebrew letters in scrolls otherwise written in square script) and some interest in the use of El.

The early scholarship in the 1950–80s was interested in examining the bits and pieces of the recently discovered Qumran evidence in an aim to achieve an overall reconstruction of the use of the divine name and date and trace its sanctity. The avoidance of the name Yhwh, the preference of the name El as well as the explicit prohibition of pronouncing some divine names in certain Qumran scrolls (1QS 6:27–7:1; CD 15:1) were noted early on. For example, Patrick Skehan6 considered that the scribe of 1QS, 1QSa, 1QSb and 4QTest (4Q175) systematically preferred the name El over the name Yhwh, along with the use of Adonay, Elyon or Tetrapuncta. <sup>7</sup> He noted that the scribes of the Hodayot and the War Scroll followed the same practice, but stressed the liturgical context of the Hodayot: the name El is also used in direct address to God and is sometimes written in Paleo-Hebrew letters. Elohim is used in these texts only in the suffixed form (e.g., םכיהולא , וניהולא( . Skehan placed this practice in a wider context of avoiding the name Yhwh in Elohistic Psalter and other books of the Hebrew Bible. Yet Skehan acknowledged that there are many biblical scrolls and pesharim with no avoidance of the Tetragrammaton or use of special script. The pesharim often favour the name El in commentary sections whereas in biblical quotations some use Yhwh in square script and others the Tetragrammaton in Paleo-Hebrew letters. Skehan also discussed the Greek evidence and identified a mixture of practices, from the use of the divine name, to the use of Hebrew square script or Paleo-Hebrew in Greek texts, and finally the use of Kyrios to replace both Yhwh and Adonay.8

Pronouns may also function in place of the Tetragrammaton. In the 1990s, Joseph Baumgarten, among others, suggested that, in the Community Rule 1QS 8:13,9 the odd

Skehan 1980.

The name Yhwh was also replaced by El in citations, e.g., 1QSb 5:25, לאתאריו) quoting Isa 11:2 תאריו .( הוהי

Skehan 1980. Other early studies include: Lieberman 1951; Siegel 1971; Siegel 1972; Stegemann 1969; Stegemann 1978. Stegemann (1978, 198) traced the avoidance of the divine proper name to the exilic and diaspora setting: one reason for substituting the name was the lack of knowledge of Hebrew in the non-Palestinian context. For a review of this research, see Meyer 2022.

". . . they shall keep apart from the company of the people of injustice and go to the wilderness to prepare there the way of אהאוה ;" trans. Hempel 2020, 220–221.

reading אהאוה is a form of pronoun אוה) sg. masc.) and a substitute for the divine name. However, Charlotte Hempel recently considers the reading as a possible scribal mistake for תמאה" truth" which is found in a parallel passage in 4Q259 (4QSe ) 3:4. She argues that 4Q259 is the Vorlage for the scribe of 1QS.10 Baumgarten saw the reading in the Damascus Document 4Q266 (4QDa ) 11 9, תאכור ֯<sup>ב</sup> לוכהוהנוא ," blessed are you, והנוא of everything," as evidence that the substitution of the divine name not only included the pronoun ( וה( but also something before it ( נוא( , as in a later, variant rabbinic reading (in the name of R. Judah in mSuk 4.5) ינאוהו for the plea ' האנא ," Oh, Lord" (Ps. 118:25): "Both of these are variants resulting from the ancient practice of disguising the divine name by blending it with the invocative אנא ." <sup>11</sup> Thus, this practice would be closely connected to a liturgical context and formulation. In 4Q266, the blessing is, in fact, part of a ritual: the priest over Many pronounces this blessing when a member is being expelled. The blessing justifies the sending away of the member since it is God who "cursed their transgressors but preserved us" (4Q266 11 14).

In the 2000s, Jonathan Ben-Dov placed new emphasis on tracing back the avoidance of the Tetragrammaton in the scrolls to earlier periods and priestly circles, evidenced in the Elohistic Psalter. He also notes that this avoidance was an exception rather than a rule, as great many scrolls continued to use the divine name.<sup>12</sup> He explains the use of El and the plural elim by the suitability of the idea of the divine council with the Qumran scribes' ideology and worship.<sup>13</sup> Along similar lines, Reinhard Kratz compares the use of the plural elim in the scrolls to its use in some biblical Psalms where it has been interpreted as a remnant of the myth of the divine council: divine beings are part of the council where the supreme god rules as king.<sup>14</sup> Kratz argues that, in the Qumran Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (especially 4Q403 1 i 30–46), the use of elim draws both from the ancient myth and from the more recent developments in Psalms, especially the need to distinguish between good and evil. As in the idea of the divine council, the Songs have "godlike" beings, with no attempt to make them look like false gods or idols (cf. Ps 29; in contrast to Ps 97). But moreover, in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, God as well as gods have attributes and properties that link them to biblical traditions (such as Ps 82, 89) where God is surrounded by justice and truth and where the righteous are differentiated from the unjust. Divine beings are transformed into manifestations of God or subordinate gods: "It is impossible to

Hempel 2020, 47, 231–232. Meyer 2022, 168–169, considers the possibility of תמא being a divine epithet in 4Q259. In 1QS, the next line has the quotation of Isa 40:3 ("In the wilderness, prepare the way of Yhwh . . ."), and Yhwh is written with Tetrapuncta (1QS 8:14). The Isa-quotation is unfortunately fragmentary in 4Q259 and the name has not been preserved.

Baumgarten 1992, 3.

Ben-Dov 2008.

Ben-Dov 2016. Ben-Dov 2023, notes that the Qumran scribes prefer the use of El, as a "private name" without a definite article, instead of Elohim, since El is the traditional God-head. In this article, Ben-Dov discusses the War Scroll, which has also been suggested to have had a ritual function. Kratz 2017.

distinguish sharply between God, gods, and angels." <sup>15</sup> Sometimes it is also linguistically difficult to determine whether the Elohim/elohim refer to these godlike beings or to (supreme) god (e.g., 4Q403 1 i 30, םימורמיהולא" Most high God" or "most high gods/godlike").

The term דובכ" glory" may denote the divine presence, even the glorious substance of the divine body or divine appearance.16 In the scrolls, the praying and praising person turns to the divine kavod/Kavod (e.g., 1QS 10:9, 12). Thomas Wagner argues that the glory of God is like the visible aspect of God and gains a feature of an independent divine entity.17 Glory is a characteristic similar to שודק ," holy," to signify elements of the divine realm.

Recently, Anthony Meyer's dissertation, published in 2022, took on the larger task of analysing the divine name Yhwh in all Second Temple epigraphic and literary evidence in Aramaic, Hebrew and Greek, and extending the analysis back into the Persian and Hellenistic periods.<sup>18</sup> He argues that there are complex reasons behind the avoidance of the divine name, not just the idea of the sacredness of the name, arising from purity concerns, or out of general respect, as often suggested. Moreover, no linear development can be identified in the Second Temple period where the use of the Tetragrammaton would have become defunct. Meyer reminds us about distinguishing between oral and written avoidance of the name, as well as a difference between avoiding the name at compositional level (when the text was composed) versus avoiding the name in the literary transmission (what the scribe chose to write in a particular manuscript). I will summarise some results of Meyer's work.

Clear evidence exists of the non-use of the Yhwh in the Aramaic literary material, whereas the closely connected Hebrew material (especially in Ezra and Daniel) continued to use it. The Aramaic epigraphic material from the same period testifies to the use of the Tetragrammaton in various short forms ( והי , ההי , הי , especially Elephantine papyri).<sup>19</sup> Furthermore, varied titles and epithets exist in Aramaic: for example, in Qumran Enochic manuscripts of the Book of Giants, the scribes "experiment with unique portrayals of the Jewish deity," and use various epithets such as השידק") Holy One"), אבר") Great One"), and אימשןטלש") Ruler of Heaven").20 Meyer, along with many others, connects the use of the title "God/Lord of Heaven" to the context of Persian diplomacy where this sort of universal conceptualisation was appealing. The Aramaic titles were not just "substitutes" for the Tetragrammaton but were chosen for a reason as they presented their own information on the divine. In other words, the choice of names like the "God of Heaven" was not motivated by the sacredness of the Tetragrammaton but rather by linking the God of Israel with the positive realm of the Per-

Meyer 2022, 118–129.

Kratz 2017, 654.

For דובכ in the Hebrew Bible, see McClellan 2022, 146–154; Burton 2017; de Vries 2016.

Wagner 2013.

Meyer 2022.

Meyer 2022, 92–94 (94).

sians and their godhead – however, this non-use of the Tetragrammaton then paved the way for its further avoidance.21 The divine name was also conceived of as having special efficacy, even if it was avoided (e.g., Testament of Qahat 4Q542 1 1).<sup>22</sup>

Meyer provides fresh statistics for the Qumran Hebrew scrolls: the Tetragrammaton is used over 2100 times in biblical scrolls, 254 times in non-biblical, non-sectarian scrolls, and 46 times in the biblical quotations of the sectarian scrolls.<sup>23</sup> The division into biblical/non-biblical and sectarian/non-sectarian scrolls is naturally not without its problems and the numbers need to be understood in relation to the amount of textual material in each category, but the figures give us a rough idea.

For biblical scrolls, Meyer presents a careful comparison with the MT and shows that the name Yhwh was used in the scrolls – even in cases where the MT has no divine name or epithet, or where the MT reads ינודא . From a ritual perspective, it's important to note that phylacteries make no exception: 4QPhyl H (4Q135) and 4QPhyl K (4Q138) read Yhwh where the other textual witnesses do not.24 Paleo-Hebrew Tetragrammaton is found in nine biblical scrolls otherwise written in square script, the name being most probably written after the (initial) writing of the scroll, in the empty space left by the first scribe.25

The evidence for the non-biblical, non-sectarian scrolls is mixed, showing both free use of the Tetragrammaton and its avoidance – which may, in Meyer's view, be sometimes due to sectarian copying. An interesting case are the apotropaic prayers such as 11Q11 and 8Q5 where the use of Yhwh stands in contrast to similar sectarian prayers (e.g., 4Q510–511) that lack the divine name,<sup>26</sup> as discussed below. The use of םיהלא is extensive in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice (4Q400–4Q407, 11Q17, Mas 1k), Songs of the Sage (4Q511) and Words of Moses (1Q22): these scrolls represent a middle ground between the biblical and sectarian scrolls in their use of םיהלא and avoidance . הוהי of <sup>27</sup> The use of pronouns instead of Yhwh is also attested: for example, this is systematic in the Temple scroll (11QT<sup>a</sup> ) as the third-person speech about God is replaced by first-person divine speech.<sup>28</sup> The use of Paleo-Hebrew or Tetrapuncta is non-systematic and occasional; for Tetrapuncta, Meyer sees evidence of a strong influence from the Qumran scribes, such as the scribe of 1QS.<sup>29</sup>

In the sectarian scrolls, a mixture of names and titles occur, but the preference to other names and epithets over the Tetragrammaton is clearer. The title לא is used 492 times in sectarian scrolls (12 of them in Paleo-Hebrew script), whereas the Tetragram-

Meyer 2022, 196–198.

Meyer 2022, 124–129, 279–281.

Meyer 2022, 103–105.

Meyer 2022, 135–136, 160.

Meyer 2022, 142–147.

Meyer 2022, 151–159.

Meyer 2022, 188–190.

Meyer 2022, 181–183.

Meyer 2022, 200.

maton is used 46 times (and 18 of them in Paleo-Hebrew script).30 Notable, for example, is the frequent phrase לאהתא ," you are El," in the Hodayot, in comparison to הוהיהתא , "you are Yhwh," in the biblical Psalter. In the biblical quotations, the Tetragrammaton is sometimes used, sometimes replaced and sometimes omitted.31 The title םיהלא is similarly sometimes avoided.32

Finally, in the few existing Greek Dead Sea Scrolls, titles ιαω, הוהי) in square and in Paleo-Hebrew script), θεός, and possibly κύριος are used,<sup>33</sup> and Meyer offers an extensive discussion of whether the use of κύριος can be traced back to a Jewish practice (before it became prevalent in Christian manuscripts) and, if so, how early. All in all, Meyer provides a helpful review and summary of earlier scholarship and a fresh look at available evidence. For the purpose of this study, our task is to focus on ritual use and take into account all divine names, titles and designations, not just Yhwh. It appears that the use of Tetragrammaton decreased in the sectarian context, including psalms and prayers that may be connected to ritual use. Yet other divine titles and creative use deserve further study. Our first case study is on the divine name in the rule scrolls.

# 3 Case Studies

#### 3.1 Ban of Using the Divine Name in Oaths?

What could be the motivation behind the ban of using the divine name in the Qumran movement and what is the scope of said ban, given that it obviously did not extend to the writing of the divine name? Let us see the central passages in the rule texts.

CD 14:23–15:5<sup>34</sup>

15:1]...[14:23 [ שי ]̇ב̇ע לאבםגו ̇ף םגודמלו לאב ף תעובשםאיכתלדו ̇ בה ̇ ̇נ̇ים 14:23 [A man must not] 15:1 swear either by Aleph and Lamedh (El/Elohim) or

Meyer 2022, 170. Pajunen 2020 discusses psalms and prayers from Qumran and notes that the lack of the Tetragrammaton may be an indication of their function in ritual use: "If a ritual use of a text is considered at such a time period when pronouncing the divine name was atypical, an additional factor for not using the actual name in collections of psalms and prayers may have been the avoidance of the name in the text itself so as not to necessitate its replacement during recital" (61).

The Qumran scribe only uses the Tetragrammaton once, where the MT has ינודא :x4QpPsa (4Q171) 1–2 ii 12. However, the Vorlage of the scribe may have read the Tetragrammaton; Meyer 2022, 163.

Meyer 2022, 161–162.

Meyer 2022, 211–260. See also De Troyer 2008.

Only a few letters have been preserved of the parallel passage in 4Q271 (4QD<sup>f</sup> ) 4 i. The translation is by M. Abegg in the DSS Electronic Library (Tov 2006).


In both the Damascus Document (D) and Community Rule (S), these rules are preceded by two other penal code cases: one on lying about property and the other

Alternatively, "except for," see Qimron 1990; Qimron 1994. Qimron (1994, 251) translates the sentence: "except the oath of the young men by the curses of the covenant." He (1990, 117) states: "It is not clear whether the name of God was actually used in this oath or whether 'the covenant' was considered a substitution for it."

Qimron (1994) reads ועיבשיםיטפשהתירבהתולאבםאו ," if the judges adjure (someone) by the curses of the covenant." He takes this as referring to Num. 5:5–8 and Lev 5:20–26, where one accused of robbery or the like has been swearing (to prove innocence) but has sworn falsely.

Translation by Hempel 2020, 194.

This deleted word impedes the understanding of the structure of the sentence. Most probably there was at least "or" here, thus continuing the list of cases, before the mention of the sentence. The וא" or" is reconstructed in 4Q261 4a-b 2–3: ךרבמ [ ר֯וא֯ ] פסבארוקאוהואולרשארבדלכלוא [ .

about speaking against fellow members. Subsequently, this rule about the divine name comes in third place but it is no less severe than the preceding ones since the punishment for the name violation in 1QS is heavier than in the preceding cases: expulsion – versus one year for lying or disrespect. No explicit judgment for the divine name violation is given in D, but the result, defiling the name, is severe and may be considered a capital case in light of the following rule: the violation against the covenant vows can be confessed and restored for, to avoid the capital punishment, death; this option of confession presumably was not available for defiling the name.<sup>39</sup>

The rule in D is explicitly connected to swearing and the use of the divine name in oaths, and various forms of the divine name are prohibited: swearing by (any?) divine name, whether with " לא " or " דא , "or the Torah of Moses, which is said to contain the explanation or fullness ( לכשורפ ( of the name in it. Clearly, the prohibition is wide and not only targeted at the use of the proper name or the Tetragrammaton. The issue is not using or pronouncing the name as such, either, but rather the possibility of breaking the oath and thus defiling the name;<sup>40</sup> therefore the covenant oath is the legitimate oath (explained in the following passage, CD 15:5–19; this included a year's education).<sup>41</sup> The logic seems to be that when someone acts on behalf of a person and does not do what is expected, this brings shame on that person. Oaths are of special concern in the movement.<sup>42</sup> This ban thus has more to do with taking care when swearing in the first place and the obligation to fulfil oaths properly, and not only about the use of the divine name.

In S, the sense of oath-taking is also present if the idiom םשבריכזה ,)" he) invokes the name," is interpreted in this way, rather than as just mentioning or pronouncing the name.43 However, the S formulation reads םשברבדריכזי ,)" who) invokes (in) any matter the name." Willem Smelik translates 1QS 7:1: "[Th]e one who takes any oath by the name honoured above all." <sup>44</sup> It could be understood as invoking the name in any matter. The following cursing or blaspheming ( ללק ( would be interpreted as a continuation of this first sentence but the exact nature of the divine name usage here is not clear. Charlotte

Similarly, Lim 2020, 48. If, on the other hand, the use of the divine names Elohim and Adonay are interpreted to have been used in the covenant oath (see n. 33), then breaking this covenant oath would not have been considered unredeemable.

Cf. the accusation of defiling the name in 1QpHab 2:4, "they did not remain faithful in the covenant of God, [and defiled] His [ho]ly na[me]." Lim 2018; Lim 2020, 47–48, argues that, in 1QpHab, the defilement could be caused by a variety of offences.

However, with the alternative translation (see n. 33), one could argue that the use of the divine name is required in the covenant oath. Then the last section (CD 15:3b–5a) would allow restitution also for offences against the covenant oath by the divine name. To me, this seems less likely, but perhaps possible if the passage is interpreted as stressing restitution rather than oaths.

Schiffman 1983; 2008; Cizek 2019.

For the idiom םשבריכזה , see Smelik 1999.

Smelik 1999, 323. Italics mine.

Hempel connects the mention of terror and distress to the reading and praying mentioned later on and sees here a reference to the nightly sessions of the yahad (1QS 6:7–8), where the third of the nights was spent reading, studying and blessing at the time when demonic attacks were most likely.45 Thus, no fear is an excuse for improper behaviour. The S passage does not specify to which divine names or titles it refers.

If the S passage is interpreted as referring to something more than merely pronouncing the divine name (e.g., using the name in oath as in D and other misuse or improper words), then again the passage is not evidence as such on the ban of pronouncing the name but rather on its potentially dangerous or indecent usage. From the point of view of the punishment (expulsion), this rule could be compared to a similar rule later in 1QS 7:16–17: דועבושיאולוםתאמהאוהחלשלליכרכליםיברבשיאו ," As for the person who goes about maligning the many, they shall send him away from among them never to return again." Improper speech against God and the Many was deemed equally severe.

Were the Qumran members simply following the common trend of their time in this, or were they distinguishing themselves, for example, from the Jerusalem Temple practice with this rule? Ben Sira 50:20 has sometimes been interpreted as meaning that the pronouncing of the divine name was allowed for the high priest: Simon the Just "raised up his hands over the entire assembly of Israel's sons, to give a blessing of the Lord from his lips and to boast in his name (trans. NETS)." Skehan interprets that the pronouncing of the divine name is presented as a privilege of the high priest – but this seems far less than certain and arises from later evidence.46

In conclusion, these rules are not explicit bans against pronouncing the divine (proper) name in any situation, but rather rules about oaths and honouring the name with proper behaviour, possibly with special attention to ritual contexts.47 From a ritual studies perspective, even if the D and S bans were interpreted as a natural continuation of the Decalogue's commandment not to use the divine name in false oath (Ex 20:7; Deut 5:11) or otherwise defile the name (Lev 24:16),<sup>48</sup> their practical observance calls for special ritual attention, similar to other avoidance behaviour and taboos like Sabbath observance or purity rules.

Hempel 2020, 208–209. The ritual context in these sessions is noteworthy, which may have included the meal before studying and praying.

Skehan 1980. See further Meyer 2022, 17–19, 38–40, 271.

Lichtenberger 2018 interprets the scribal practices testified by the scrolls and other evidence to be primarily about the veneration of the divine name, "independent of any reading or pronunciation practice" (142). The avoidance of pronouncing the name was only a secondary consequence, which, however, was never fully followed.

Lev 24:16 is translated in the LXX as "Whoever names the name of the Lord – by death let him be put to death." This could be seen as grounds for the pronunciation ban; Lichtenberger 2018, 153–154.

#### 3.2 The Efficacy of the Divine Name

The divine name is attested to have had efficacy, that is, (magical) power to function on earth. Several scrolls are associated with exorcism, warding off evil spirits or general protection from evil: Apocryphal Psalms (11Q11); Exorcism (4Q560); Hymn (8Q5); Songs of the Sage (4Q510–511); Incantation (4Q444); Hymn (6Q18).<sup>49</sup> In some of these, it is specifically the divine name that is invoked for the exorcism.<sup>50</sup>

Apocryphal Psalms 11Q11 is thus the most noteworthy. It contains several previously unknown psalms as well as a version of Ps 91. The Tetragrammaton Yhwh appears in all extant psalms in Cols. 1–5 and is in all likelihood also to be reconstructed in the final Ps 91 in Col. 6. Mika Pajunen sees a pattern in its function as a ritual: after the exorcisms of evil spirits and the devil, Ps 91 is used as a final confirmation of divine protection and appeal for protection in the future.51 The fragmentary Salomonic psalm (cols. 2–3) may be understood as a celestial trial by Yhwh against the evil spirits.<sup>52</sup> The better preserved Davidic psalm in 5:4–6:3 includes an exorcism against Satan in the name of Yhwh:53

5:4 Of David. Aga[inst Satan. An incanta]tion in the name of YHW[H . . .]l time 5 to Sata[n when]he comes to you in the ni[ght. And ]you shall [s]ay to him: 6 "Who are you, you [who were born from ] man and the seed of the ho[ly one]s? Your face is only 7 [an illu]sion and your horns just a dre[a]m. Darkness you are, not light, 8 [injusti]ce, not righteousness[. . .]hr host. Yhwh [will bind ]you 9 [in the ]deepest [Sheo]l [and will close the] bronze [ga]tes [which n]o 10 light [penetrates] and [the] sun will not [shine for you] tha[t rises] 11 [for the]righteous . . .

It is the power of the divine name that is believed to be the basis for the incantation. Satan is addressed directly and ridiculed as offspring product of illegitimate union, his appearance being mere darkness and emptiness, not even frightening. Unlike the evil spirits that may cause illnesses, Satan is also understood to cause moral deviance; his prison will be the Sheol where the sun does not rise as it rises for the righteous. Yhwh is written in square script as in the rest of the manuscript. A text like this demonstrates that the Tetragrammaton was used, at least by some, with specific exorcistic purpose. Similarly, 8Q5 preserves the Tetragrammaton (8Q5 2 3) and says to invoke the name: "in Your name, [O M]ighty One, I intimidate . . ." (8Q5 1 1). Yet the ritual in 11Q11 also includes other aspects than the power of the divine name (e.g., addressing the evil spirit and knowing their names). We also do not know if the person in charge of a ritual like this needed to be specially qualified.

Pajunen 2013, 55–62; Pajunen 2015a.

See, e.g., Bohak 2008, 105–112; Brand 2013, 198–217; Eshel 2003, 395–415.

This can be compared to the use of the name Ιαω in Greek magical papyri; Lichtenberger 2018, 140–160 (148–152). For the rise of praises, see Pajunen 2015b.

Pajunen 2015a, 137–142.

Trans. Pajunen 2015a, 146.

In a different kind of incantation or curse, the scribe of 4Q444 does not include or invoke the divine name but instead appeals to the speaker's fear of God ( לא ( in the fight against the evil spirits. Similarly, the Songs of the Sage (4Q510–511) are meant to be used for protection, not against any specific demonic attack but during the period of wickedness. They are presented as sung by the wise teacher ( ליכשמ ( but also performed communally:54

And I, Maskil, proclaim His glorious splendor so as to frighten and to te[rrify] 5. all the spirits of the destroying angels, spirits of the bastards, demons, Lilith, howlers and [desert dwellers] 6. and those which fall upon men without warning to lead them astray from a spirit of understanding and to make their heart and their [counsel] desolate during the present dominion of 7. wickedness and predetermined time of humiliations for the sons of lig[ht], by the guilt of the ages of [those] smitten by iniquity – not for eternal destruction, 8. [bu]t for an era of humiliation for transgression. [ vacat ] Sing for joy, O righteous ones, for the God of Wonder . . . (4Q510 [4QShir<sup>a</sup> ]14–8)

The divine name as such is not invoked; rather the praise of God and his name functions as a tool of protection.55 The speaker blesses God's name and engraves the statutes of thanksgiving for the glory of God (4Q511 63–64 ii 2–3). The language is often similar to the Hodayot, and the divine titles (4Q511 48–51 9–10) have affinities with the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, to which we shall turn next.<sup>56</sup>

#### 3.3 Divine Manifestation in Praise

Several Qumran prayer and liturgical texts include heavenly scenes and descriptions of beings or items that join in praise or are themselves elements of the divine praise or wonder. A significant aspect for us is that the boundaries between the ones praising and one(s) being praised are often blurred. These texts also often refer to elim, holy beings or angels, and have no difficulty with the idea of gods or god-like beings praising the God of gods or King of kings.<sup>57</sup> Above, we observed the preference of the title Elohim for God in such texts.58 I will discuss Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice as an example; Berakhot (4Q286–290) is another composition with similar features.

Trans. M. Wise, M. Abegg, and E. Cook in Tov 2006, with minor changes. The manuscript 4Q510 is likely much shorter than 4Q511, Angel 2017. See also Nitzan 1994, 236–272.

Cf. Nitzan 1994, 248–249: "Perhaps the Maskil is zealous, so to speak, concerning the sanctity of the Divine Name, . . . and wishes to minimize the use of the Divine Name as a magical charm."

These examples by no means exhaust the use of the divine name in the apotropaic sense. For example, Yhwh is invoked in 4Q380 and in 4Q381, and the name is considered the salvation of the speaker (4Q381 24a+b); Pajunen 2013. Ben-Dov 2023 argues that the War Scroll invokes the name El as the leader of the divine assembly when the name is repeatedly inscribed in the war trumpets and standards.

See above, Ben-Dov 2016; Kratz 2017.

Exceptionally, Paleo-Hebrew is used for Elohim in 4Q406 1 2 (and 3 2?).

The Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice is preserved in ten manuscripts, nine from Qumran and one from Masada (4Q400–407; 11Q17; Mas 1k).<sup>59</sup> The manuscripts present different parts that do not always overlap so the construction of a single composition remains uncertain. Based on the superscriptions preserved, scholars think that the composition had a Sabbath song for each Sabbath during the first quarter of the 364 day-year, that is, for 13 weeks. Judith Newman suggests that the composition represents preparation for the Shavuot festival: the text draws from the idea of divine glory ( דובכ ( being manifested and the inscribing of the law, as in the Sinai tradition, which was associated with the Shavuot. The heavenly priests and angels as well as the earthly sage ( ליכשמ ( were the carriers of the law and divine revelation.<sup>60</sup>

Due to material reasons, Mika Pajunen thinks that most of these manuscripts were not produced for ritual use since they are written in such small handwriting and are not ideal for reading: the letters are as small as 1–2 mm and line spacing is at its smallest only 3–4 mm (4Q403).61 But the manuscripts are not all the same; Schücking-Jungblut presents a recent comparison and notes that 4Q400 with its low height (12.7 cm) could have been easily portable.62 We cannot be sure which manuscripts were ritually used on Sabbaths, if any; superscriptions "for the instructor ( ליכשמל "( and mention of specific Sabbaths and the (time of) burnt offering certainly give the impression that they invited such usage.63 Instead of reciting these particular words, the songs may also have provided models for praising.64 I think we should also be open to the possibility that the writing (copying) of the manuscript could itself be considered a ritual, meditative practice which demanded concentration, focused attention and set the scribe's mindset to a certain semantic field, defined by the most typical words used and repeated.

In our attempt to distinguish divine names in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, we come across a feature that makes this composition so significant: the Divine is extended to the praising of divine beings and the heavenly temple. The term םיהולא is frequent in the Songs and used both for God and (subordinate) gods. The text envisions a heavenly scene (divine council) where the gods and heavenly hosts are present. Noam Mizrahi notes how several (elsewhere) existing divine epithets – such as םישודקשודק ," the Holy of the holy ones," םלועלא ," the eternal God," תועדהלא ," God of

Newsom 1985; Newsom 1998; Newman 2019.

Newman 2008.

Pajunen 2020, 67. For the measurements of individual manuscripts, see also Schücking-Jungblut 2020, 74. The manuscript 4Q403 is generally rather average in terms of manuscript height and column width, but the script is very small, with lines that are fully packed and narrow margins.

Schücking-Jungblut 2020, 76.

Schücking-Jungblut 2020, 85, also notes the first person plural forms in one section of 4Q400 2 5–8 and takes it as evidence of a worshipping community.

Boustan 2004, 199: "The content of angelic speech is entirely absent; the praise of God himself is never repeated. Instead, the Songs describe and detail the order and conduct of the liturgical activities performed in the supernal realms. (…) The cycle is structured both as a summons to a list of worshippers and as an invitation to praise."

knowledge" – are modified, turned into plural and used in the Songs of the heavenly beings: םישודקישודק ," the holiest among the holy ones," םימלועילא ," eternal gods," תעדילא , "gods of knowledge." This sends a signal of these beings' divine nature, or even more radically, mediates the belief that the Divinity is extended into these beings. The wellknown epithet "the living God" is similarly reused in portraying the "living gods" of the heavenly temple, who are even carved on the temple vestibules (4Q405 14–15 i 5).65 Ra'anan Boustan argues the Songs are a prime example of "the systematic collapse of the boundary between angelic beings and architectural elements in what might best be termed the 'angelification' of the celestial Temple." Boustan also calls this feature "animation of celestial structures." <sup>66</sup> A general thematic shift in composition from angelic and divine beings in the beginning to the description of temple architecture and art has often been noted; this is especially evident in the central seventh song.67 Mizrahi, with others, remarks that when the seventh song describes the divine throne-chariot, the properties of the one seated on the throne (God) in Ezek 1 are now associated with the cherubs and the wheels, and not God. He writes of the Songs:68

the godhead rather expands to an unprecedented extent and now embraces the divine chariot, as well as the heavenly sanctuary.

The divinity conceptualized in this work needs to be seen, not as a singular entity, but rather as a complex of powers that is characterized by an internal plurality of constituents.

The heavenly beings are thus rightly called םיהולא , gods; they are not angels in the sense of transmitting messages to earth,<sup>69</sup> but rather divine beings that exemplify the divinity. The language of divine beings and God is also otherwise aligned and creative. For example, in the seventh song (starting in 4Q403 1 i 30), each call to praise has a distinct thematic key word and divine titles cannot really be separated from their characterisations. For example, the call to "extol" ( חבש ( reads:

(4Q403 1 i 31–33) Trans. Mizrahi<sup>70</sup>

תוחבשותישאר 32 םיהולאלוכ הולאלוחבש [ תי ] דוהתוחבש O chiefs of extolments 32. of all gods, Extol the Go[d of] majestic [ex]tolments.

Mizrahi 2018, 161–192.

Boustan 2004, 196, 200.

Boustan 2004; Newman 2019. Boustan further argues for a difference in syntax and style between the systematic and repetitious descriptions of angelic priesthood, and the irregular, often verb-less lists of animated items.

Mizrahi 2018, 175, 182. Cf. Ben-Dov 2023, of the divine conception in the Yahad: "The One-ness of the One will not materialize without the assembly that will sing His praise and reassert His sovereignty" (28).

Mizrahi 2018, 185.

Trans. Mizrahi 2015, 60. Mizrahi presents a new structure of the seventh song and understands this call as the second call for praise.

ותוכלמדובכתוחבשתרדהביכ לוכתוחבשתהב 33 כלמלוכרדהםעםיהולא [ ותו For in the splendor of extolments is the glory of his kingship.

> In it (focus) the extolment of all 33. gods, Together with the splendor of all [his] king[ship] . . .

Since those who are called to praise are known as "chiefs of extolments," the divine characterisation is similar: God is "(lit.) the God of the extolments of splendour." The glory of his kingdom is in "the splendour of the extolments," and the extolment include "extolment of all gods, together with the splendour of all his kingdom." The naming of the Divine is like sending verbal fireworks where one word is used as a catchword ( תוחבשת / חבש ( in all possible ways and the association between God, godly epithets, godly beings and appearances become blurred. Thus, our first conclusion is that the names of the heavenly beings are intentionally and creatively echoing divine names and embracing the divinity; God is not independent or isolated from his hosts.

Furthermore, royal language is strong in the Songs in general. We find "King" as the divine title several times, as well as םיהולאךלמ ," King of gods" (4Q400 2 5), and םי [ כלמךלמ֯ , "King of kings" (4Q403 1 i 34). In the sixth song, דובכהךלמ ," King of glory," בוטהךלמ ," King of goodness," שודקהךלמ ," King of holiness," appear (partly reconstructed) with the corresponding titles with לא or םיהולא") God of glory," "God of goodness," "God of holiness;" see Tab. 1). These designations belong to a distinct literary unit called the Cycle of Praises,71 which is a systematic and formulaic list of instructions to praise by the seven chief princes. Each item contains a noun phrase of the praise type (by whom and to whom) and a verbal clause declaring its recitation by the prince. For example, the fourth instruction reads (divine titles in italics):72

Psalm of praise by the tongue of the fou[rth (chief prince)] to the Warrior who is above all[ gods] with its seven wondrous powers; and he will praise the God of power seven times with seve[n] words of [wondrous] prais[e

(4Q403 1 i 2–3)

In other words, the object of praising is expressed twice, in two different ways, bearing some resemblance to each other. We get this list of divine designations in 4Q403 1 i 1–9 and MasShirShabb ii 8–12 of the list of the seven chief princes' praises (the first two are not preserved):73

Nitzan 1994, 297–301.

Trans. Newsom in Tov 2006.

Nitzan 1994, 300.


Tab. 1: Divine designations in the Cycle of Praises.

There is no clear pattern, except that similar terminology is repeated between the noun phrase and the verbal clause. The main terms for God, with various combinations, include לא , ךלמ , רובג , םיהולא .

This Cycle of Praises is followed by the Cycle of Blessings74 where the seven chief princes are said to bless different actors "in the name of . . ." Royal associations are again strongly represented as the names include "the glory of God" (4Q403 1 i 10), "His truth" (1 i 12), "the height of His kingdom" (1 i 14), "the majesty of the King" (1 i 17), "His wonderful majesty" (1 i 19), "the mighty deeds of gods" (1 i 21), "His holiness" (1 i 24). Finally, all the , ךורב [ה] ֯ד֯א [ו] ֯למ֯ן [ הך ] תוהכרבלוכלהלעמלוכ [ תוחבש :all of King the ,Lord the praise princes "Blessed be the Lord, the Ki[ng of] all, above all blessing and pr[aise" (4Q403 1 i 28). The name ןודא ," Lord," is somewhat striking in this final exhortation; besides this sentence, it is found only in 4Q403 1 ii 33 (the eighth song) in the Songs, after a similarly formulaic list of seven tongues by the angelic chiefs: י [יאלוכןודאלללהו֯ל ," praise the Lord of all the god[s]."

Later on, starting from the shift in the seventh song, this royal language takes on more material associations, thus confirming Boustan's observation of the shift towards the animation of temple structures; here exemplified by the (most likely) ninth song:

3. [ a so]und of blessing for the King of those who exalt; and their wondrous praise is for the God of gods [ ] their many-colored [ ] And they sing joyfully 4. [ ]m the vestibules of their entryways, spirits of the most holy inner sanctum b[ ]eternal 5. [And the liken]ess of living gods is engraved in the vestibules where the King enters ( ת ]ומדו ךלמיאובמימלאבחתופמםייחםיהולא ̇([ , figures of luminous spirit[ K]ing, figures of glorious li[ght,] spirits of 6. [ in] the midst of spirits of splendor is a work of wondrous mingled colors, figures of living gods [ in the] glorious shrines, the structure of the 7. [mo]st holy [sanctuary] in the shrines of the King ( ךלמיריבדב( , figure[s of the go]d-like [beings; and from] the likeness of [ ] of holiest holiness (4Q405 [4QShirShabb<sup>f</sup> ] 14–15 i 3–7)<sup>75</sup>

Nitzan 1994, 301–307.

Trans. Newsom in Tov 2006; with some modifications: Newsom translates the plural יהולא / םיהולא as "god-like ones." Here it is simply "gods."

Here, the King is surrounded by praising elements, which are both animate (spirits, gods) and inanimate or animated (architectural structures, colours, lights). The King's entrance is engraved with the "likeness of living gods." The holy of holiest is in the inner-sancta of the King and associated again with godly beings. With the linguistic formulations themselves, the text merges the King with the elements listed; there is no actual description of logical movement of the King in the space but the emphasis is on the praising items and their characteristics, which all constitute the glorious King.

The Divine also receives other titles. The abstract תוהולא ," divinity" is rare: it is preserved only in the first song (ׄ ותוהולאבוׅ ," and in His divinity," 4Q400 [4QShirShabba ]1i 2), and in the seventh song ( ודובכתוהולאו ," His glorious divinity," 4Q403 [4QShirShabbd ] 1 i 30–46 33).76 "Divinity" ( תוהולא ( may have been created to form a pair with םיהולא , just as תוכלמ ," kingdom/kingliness," pairs with ךלמ ," king." As noted, the sentences in the seventh song are full of wordplays and the use of the same Hebrew root for verbal actions, objects, agents and places (see above, the call to extol). In the call to exalt, with the occurrence of the abstract "divinity," half of the words relate to the root םור ," to be high, exalted" (4Q403 1 i 30–46 33–34); such formulations are not easy to translate:

4Q403 1 i 30–46 33‒34 Trans. Newsom<sup>77</sup> ̇ םוריל ו] אמםיהולאםורמלוממורוממו֯ר םורימורמלוכללעמודובכתוהולאו And] exalt His exaltedness to exalted heaven, O gods of the most exalted gods and (exalt) His glorious divinity above all the exalted heights.

God's glory and divinity are tied to the praising, which may give an indication that God exists only through said praising. To counteract this, the seventh song also stresses how the divine beings depend on God. Mizrahi suggests a new structure for the seventh song, where the focal part (4Q403 1 i 30–46 35–36a) differs from the surrounding exhortations to praise and basically declares three times how the divine beings (angels/gods, spirits, creatures) are created by the divine word. Thus, while the praising performance constitutes the divine kingship – and divinity – the praising beings at the same time owe their existence to God.<sup>78</sup>

In conclusion, Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice use highly creative, yet at the same time formulaic, divine titles in praise contexts where the praising agents, the praises and the object of praise are mingled together. Royal language is at home in the heavenly temple, and His majesty is made majestic by the glory of his subjects and their praise; yet, these beings reciprocally depend on the divine word. The "divinity" is rare

Elsewhere also in the Berakhot (ה [כתוהולאדובכםשתא ] וכרבו ,]" they will bless] the name of Your glorious divinity," 4Q287 [4QBer<sup>b</sup> ] 2a, b 8), and in a fragmentary context in 4Q176 31 3.

Trans. Newsom in Tov 2006; with some modifications.

Mizrahi 2015.

but in the context of the Songs expresses superlative ideas and comprehensiveness rather than any abstract conception of God.

# 4 Conclusions

Divine ritual names in the scrolls are many and various. The case studies show that the ban of divine name usage was not restricted to the Tetragrammaton (Yhwh) but that using the name El/Eloah/Elohim for certain purposes was also banned. The ban in the rule documents is strongly linked to (false) oaths. Thus, the scrolls movement specified and underlined the Divine Commandment given at Sinai; the rule has to be read together with the movement's general attention to oaths and vows. However, the additional banning (in the Damascus Document) of the use of the Torah of Moses with the divine name in it suggests that the name could be associated with magical power even via mediating figures or artefacts (such as Moses or the writing of the name in a scroll).

The Tetragrammaton does occur less frequently in Qumran sectarian texts than in non-sectarian and biblical texts; yet, it is not completely banned from writing. It is also clearly used to ward off evil powers in some apotropaic or exorcist texts that may have been used by the movement members. However, the sectarian use of the name El has significance beyond the avoidance of the Tetragrammaton: it suited their conception of the high-god over all other spirit beings and humans.

In several prayer texts, the Divine exists in the praise and extends into the praising beings (elim, spirits, angels) and heavenly shrine elements and structures (pillars, entrance, footstool; lights, colours, sounds, etc.); they are the agents of praise, the imagined community of the praise and also the reasons for the praise in their wonderful appearances, representing the Divine. The creative use of the heavenly scenes both builds a strong visual and oral sensation of the Divine and make it difficult to "distil" the divine titles from the calls to praise, those praising and the godly items in heaven.

# Bibliography


Bohak, Gideon (2008), Ancient Jewish Magic: A History, Cambridge.


Brooke, George J. / Charlotte Hempel (eds.) (2016), T&T Clark Companion to the Dead Sea Scrolls, London.


Hempel, Charlotte (2020), The Community Rules from Qumran (Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 183), Tübingen.


Lim, Timothy H. (2020), The Earliest Commentary on the Prophecy of Habakkuk, Oxford.

McClellan, Daniel O. (2022), Yhwh's Divine Images: A Cognitive Approach (Ancient Near East Monographs 29), Atlanta.


Newman, Judith H. (2008), "Priestly Prophets at Qumran: Summoning Sinai through the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice", in: George J. Brooke / Hindy Najman / Loren T. Stuckenbruck (eds.), The Significance of Sinai: Traditions About Sinai and Divine Revelation in Judaism and Christianity. Leiden, 29–72.

Newman, Judith H. (2019), "Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice", in: George J. Brooke / Charlotte Hempel (eds.), T&T Clark Companion to the Dead Sea Scrolls, London, 347–349.

Newsom, Carol Ann (1985), Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice: A Critical Edition (Harvard Semitic Studies 27), Atlanta.

Newsom, Carol Ann (1998), "Shirot 'Olat Hashabbat", in: Esther Eshel et al. (eds.), Qumran Cave 4, Vol. 6, Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 1 (DJD 11), Oxford, 173–401.

Nitzan, Bilhah (1994), Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry (STDJ 12), Leiden.


# Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui Strategies for Naming the Gods in Greek Hymns

Abstract: An essential ingredient of Greek hymnic poetics is the choice of divine names and epithets. With a general goal of achieving charis for both the gods and the mortals who compose and sing a hymn, various strategies are deployed to address the gods: names and epithets may underline a single dimension of the god or emphasise his multidimensionality through poluonumia; they may be chosen to singularise the addressee or to relate a particular deity with other gods in the pantheon; they may express the self-confidence of the composer in choosing the right appellatives to please the god, or the lack of precision with which any name approaches the divine; they may imply benefits for the whole community or for specific people. Along these four axes, different strategies show the complexities involved in divine naming when composing any hymn in different contexts and genres in Greek antiquity.

# 1 Achieving Charis

As a conclusion to his treatise on how to compose hymns to the gods, Menander, the 3rd-century CE rhetor, demonstrates, by way of example, how a paradigmatic hymn might be composed, commenting on each section of an invented prose hymn to Apollo Smintheus, in what constitutes a unique example of an author describing his own work. He ends with this paragraph (2.16.31 = 445–446; trans W. H. Race adapted):

When you are about to conclude your subject, employ epithets of the god (ἀνακλητικοῖς ὀνόμασι τοῦ θεοῦ) in the following way. "O Sminthian and Pythian, since my speech began with you and with you it will end, with what names shall I address you (ποίαις σὲ προσηγορίαις προσφθέγξομαι)? Some call you (σὲ λέγουσιν) Lycian, others Delian, others Ascraean, others Actian. The Lacedaemonians call you Amyclaean, the Athenians Patroos, the Milesians Branchiate. You rule over every city, every land, and every nation, and you govern the whole inhabited world, as you dance across the sky surrounded by choruses of stars. The Persians call you Mithras, the Egyptians Horus (for you bring round the seasons), the Thebans call you Dionysos; the Delphians honor you with two names, calling you Apollo and Dionysos (Δελφοὶ δὲ διπλῇ προσηγορίᾳ τιμῶσιν, Ἀπόλλωνα καὶ Διόνυσον λέγοντες), for around you are frenzied women, around you are Bacchants. From you the moon derives its splendour, while the Chaldeans call (λέγουσιν) you the leader of the stars. So, whether you delight in these appellations, or in some more favoured than these (εἴτε οὖν ταύταις χαίρεις ταῖς προσηγορίαις, εἴτε τούτων ἀμείνοσι), grant that this city may forever flourish in prosperity and that it may forever hold this festival in your honour. And grant grace to these words, for both these words and the city are gifts from you (νεῦσον δὲ καὶ χάριν τοῖς λόγοις· παρὰ σοῦ γὰρ καὶ οἱ λόγοι καὶ ἡ πόλις)."

This self-exegetical hymn is a late antique rhetorical demonstration; however, it sheds precious light on the functions of god-naming in Greek hymns. There may be other elements in earlier and contemporary Greek hymns that Menander does not mention in his treatise, but those he comments on are easily derived from the extant evidence about hymns from all antiquity: the charis as the main goal of the hymn; the bilateral nature of this charis; and the essential placement of names and epithets in achieving it.

Greek charis, as is well known, is two-sided (unlike Christian one-sided divine grace), a bilateral act of mutual gift.1 A hymn, like a work of art, is an agalma, an offering, that pleases the god or goddess (hereinafter generalised as "god" when gender is indistinct), and thus gives him content (charis). At the same time, the god grants favour (charis) to the poet/author (hereinafter "poet" in the sense of "composer", since most hymns covered here are in verse), both to compose the hymn in question and future ones, and also to the community (city, family, initiates) that are included in the hymn as a ritual act, either as co-singers or spectators. The hymn creates (and receives) charis for all the agents involved, however this charis may be conceived (the poetic pleasure that a Homeric god takes in a rhapsodic hymn may be seen differently from the incantatory power of a magical hymn that charms the deity). And as Menander says (and is well-known by modern scholars of hymnic poetry), naming the god appropriately is fundamental in this creation of charis (ταύταις χαίρεις ταῖς προσηγορίαις). In the following pages, the strategies deployed in Greek hymns for naming the gods will be systematised as different ways of achieving such a goal.

Taking, therefore, hymns as acts of communication between men and gods in which both are involved as givers and receivers of charis, we must consider that neither the god nor the author of the hymn are in isolation. In ancient Greece, the god is praised and invoked within a polytheistic system, in which different cults to different gods naturally coexist. This polytheistic context of classical Greek religion may become even more complex in later centuries, with cases like the hymns in the magical papyri in which divine names from different religions (e.g. Greek, Egyptian, Jewish) overlap with absolute fluidity. Even when the addressee of a hymn is invoked as "the" single god, we must always bear in mind that this monist mood is deployed within a polytheistic religious context that shapes the hymnic genre.

On the human side, the hymn is usually a collective act: even if the author is individuated, the favour of the gods will be extended to the cultic community to which he belongs (or to the collective customer who has hired a foreign poet), which is usually the polis, and possibly, when inscribed in stone, to future members of the community that will follow in later generations. However, there are also cases in which the community of singers is restricted to a chosen few, initiates of a mystery cult inaccessible to the profane, and only they will receive the charis of the god. The most extreme restric-

On Greek hymns and their striving for charis, cf. Race 1981, Furley/Bremer 2001, Calame 2011, Petrovic 2015.

tion of the charis appears in the magical papyri, in which the hymn becomes an individual private prayer and the favour of the god is limited to the singer of the hymn.2

All these different possibilities on both sides, human and divine, of the communication act that aims to achieve charis through a hymn, are reflected in the selection and ordering of the names and epithets of the god. This is not only an elevate poetic device, but also a very practical resource for attaining the god's favour: interest in adequate naming is common to literary, cultic and magical hymns. The topic of the following pages is how this adequacy is attained in each context.

We can therefore distinguish four different axes along which hymnic strategies for achieving such bilateral charis through god-naming may be deployed: A) Concerning the god individually, names may be focused on one dimension or on many dimensions of the god's identity. B) Concerning the god within a polytheistic system, names may tend to individuate some specific god in his singular particular identity, or to establish relations with other gods. C) Concerning the author as individual, he may reflect and justify his choices for achieving charis through names, and even express his doubts or self-confidence. D) Concerning the author within the human community, he may name the god in a restrictive way that particularises the appeal to divine charis for a specific community (or even for himself alone), or in a generalising way that may appeal to all potential singers of the hymn or even to all mankind. For the sake of clarity, let us dwell on each of these four polarities separately, though it is obvious that there will be overlaps and connexions between them.

Some preliminary clarifications are due. When we speak of strategies, the term does not refer to conventions that must be followed due to the rules of the hymnic genre, but to the different options from which the poet may choose his way to achieve charis. Granted, paeans, narrative hymns, or magical hymns have their own specific conventions within the broader genre of hymns, but at the same time, within the framework of the given sets of formal rules that poets follow, they have a set of choices allowing them to apply different possibilities. The tension between remaining faithful to generic conventions, which makes a composition recognisable to a human and divine audience, and a certain originality which makes it enjoyable for these same audiences, is resolved in each case by a specific strategy. This is true for most of Greek literature, and it can also be applied to names in hymns.3 In this paper, I will treat names and epithets alike, since the strategies in the use of names and epithets do not normally differ (should this be the case in a specific context, it should be dealt with separately). I will take them generally as ways to address the god, appellatives or

Cf. Petrovic 2015 for the distinction between public hymns and private ones in magical papyri.

On names and epithets in specific hymnic corpora, after the fundamental Ausfeld 1903, 516–525: Jaillard 2021 on epithets in the Homeric Hymns. Hopman 2001, Morand 2015, Herrero 2015a, Gordon 2020, Macedo/Kölligan/Barbieri 2021 on the collection of Orphic Hymns. Petrovic 2015, Bortolani 2016, Blanco 2017, 2020 for magical hymns. For cultic hymns, Furley/Bremer 2001. In general, on god-naming, Belayche et al. 2005. Bonnet 2019 and the results of the MAP project also provide multiple examples.

prosēgoriai, to use Menander's term, whose etymology reflects (agora) the public dimension that is presupposed for hymns (at least in the rhetoric of the genre itself). I will leave out, however, those strategies that refer purely to formal aspects, such as alliterations, metrical or rhythmic plays, or enjambments, since they are indeed effective ways to achieve the charis of the divine addressees, but are not specific for names, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, are particular to each composition and hardly susceptible of generalisation for all Greek hymns.4

Scholarship has consecrated some distinctions that will not be primordial in this study: er-Stil, du-Stil, and ich-Stil hymns can be analysed within the four proposed polarities, just as narrative and non-narrative hymns. These formal distinctions are very helpful in understanding how the god is addressed, but they do not determine per se the strategies that are followed in choosing names. Likewise, contextual distinctions like cultic or literary, private or public, rhapsodic or ritual hymns, may obviously have an enormous influence on the poet's choices for god-naming, but the strategies may be different within each of these contexts (and the same could be said of the mythical parts in narrative hymns).

Finally, one cannot ignore that the most common dichotomy is "tradition and innovation" (or similar formulations), which aims to reflect the diachronic dimension that is inherent to any analysis of century-long phenomena, as is the case with Greek hymns. However, the centrality of god-naming to achieving divine charis is a constant feature in hymns from classical times to late antiquity, so there is a clear continuity in the strategies that are open to the poet. The panorama changed radically with Christianisation, for the monotheistic frame, the dense Jewish theology of divine names and the unilateral divine charis of the Biblical God profoundly modified the hymnic conventions. Therefore, Jewish and Christian hymns are excluded from this study since their conceptual framework is very different. Instead, Greek hymns, from archaic paeans to late antique syncretistic magic hymns, show a relatively homogeneous formal and conceptual background which allows an overall analysis which bridges alltoo-comfortable gaps like literary vs. ritual, or public vs. private, with the help of the homogeneity brought by the hymnic form. In spite of such homogeneity, generic conventions evolve and religious contexts change in ways that obviously influence the choices of poets. This diachronic dimension must be carefully considered within each of the four proposed polarities, since literary, religious and historical contexts are a key factor in understanding which strategy is employed in each case.

Cf. Thomas 2021, a recent insightful study on the formal ordering techniques in the lists of epithets in attributive hymns, both literary and cultic.

# 2 Underlining Aspects of the God: Focusing vs. Breadth of Scope

When naming the god, the poet may focus on a single name, deploy many different names, or choose some middle ground. Each name and epithet carries a different set of connotations or sheds light on a particular aspect of the god. The comparison of the hymn with a dedicated piece of art is again illustrative. Sculptors or painters choose one particular representation of the god that aims to cause him pleasure (notwithstanding other factors that influence this decision, like audiences and customers), but it by no means claims to be the only possible form of the god. In hymns, the continuous nature of human language makes it possible to display more than one aspect of the god, but nevertheless singing a hymn entails an act of choosing and therefore renouncing. Even if a poet wanted to sing about all the aspects of the god, the ordination of events, where to begin and where to end, entails choosing aspects which will be given more importance. "Where to begin and where to end" is a typical question which a hymnic poet addresses himself. Just as in narrative parts, when it comes to choosing the order of names and epithets the same options appear. The different possibilities of the hymnic poet can be evaluated along this axis of describing one vs. many dimensions of the god.

On one side, we have those hymns which stick to just one dimension of the god. A precise name may be followed by a narrative, perhaps complemented by other names with equal value and epithets traditionally attached to this god.<sup>5</sup> The focus remains fixed as if through these appellatives only one dimension of the god is highlighted: e.g. Apollo, Phoibos, hekebolos, which appears in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. The poet may insist on a specific name and repeat it several times, like in the diverse variants of Orphic hymns to Zeus, or Cleanthes' hymn, where Zeus is invoked several times by his name. However, anaphoric emphasis is not strictly necessary in order to attain focus: it is rather the concentration in a single dimension, through the choice of a few distinctive appellatives. In fact, extreme focusing may shun the usual name of the addressee in favour of other, more specific ones: the Cretan hymn inscribed in Palaikastro is clearly addressed to Zeus, but calls him Kouros repeatedly and Kroneios only once, since it aims to recall the youth of the god who leaps energetically over those protected by him. While the name Zeus would bring to mind the mature king of Olympus, this hymn focuses on episodes and appellatives more suited to a younger god.6 Such focusing may also result in a change of direct addressee: a magical hymn is addressed to "laurel/Daphne", as a ritual plant belonging to Apollo's sphere, which fo-

Some examples from literature and epigraphy in Bonnet 2019, 606–609.

Furley/Bremer 2001 (Hymn 1.1).

cuses the attention on the key role of this plant in the divinatory ritual and its mediating agency for granting Apollonian divinatory powers to the magician.<sup>7</sup>

On the other extreme, there are those hymns which attempt to underline the diversity of dimensions of the god. In the narrative parts, this would be reflected in several episodes, from birth to love affairs and battles. In the usage of names and epithets, this tendency is usually reflected in numerous and variegated names (poluonumia is a typical characteristic of important gods), and emphasis in the diversity of attributes and fields of action where the god exercises his power.8 Picking up the case of Apollo again, in the Orphic Hymns and the magical hymns preserved in papyri (some of them are quoted below), he receives many names that evoke his links to poetic tradition, cultic places, solar aspects, mantic qualities, among his main timai.

Just as the ordination of mythical episodes has its relevance, the collocation of names also matters. The first and the last seem to point to those aspects that have more importance, and the flow of associations may suggest a certain logical order (e.g. Orphic Hymn 32, the epithets in which are skilfully ordered like building-blocks to reveal Athena's militarism, motherlessness and intellectualism in mutual connection).<sup>9</sup> In other cases, however, there is no apparent logical ordination, and this may be precisely the goal of the poet, in order to avoid the sensation that some dimensions of the god are more important than others. One way to delight in poluonumia may be precisely to avoid any hierarchy that might reduce the plurality of aspects, which constitutes precisely the feature that the hymn strives to highlight. Rather than covering all aspects of the deity exhaustively, an impossible task, this emphasis on poluonumia aims to show that a representative selection is just the tip of the iceberg and that many other hymns could – and will – be possible.

Any god can be honoured in a hymn through a unidimensional or multidimensional strategy. The traditional characterisation of the god, literary conventions, and other factors may influence the choice of the poet to tend towards one pole or the other. For instance, in several Orphic Hymns Dionysos is described using many names and epithets in a clearly multidimensional way: Hymn 52 begins "I pray to you, oh blessed, many-named, maddened, Bacchos, / bull-horned, Lenaios, born from fire, Nysios, Liberator", and the rest of the hymn accumulates disparate appellatives (including Paean and shining-fire) in an apparently chaotic way that precisely creates the impres-

PGM VI, l. 6–21 = Hymn. 13 [Preisendanz] (= 2 Blanco = 8 Bortolani). Curiously, this oblique focus is similar to some Callimachean hymns, which instead of addressing the god decide to narrow the focus on the formal addressee: to Delos (where Apollo is born) or to Pallas' Bath (a moment that evokes ritual action and Teiresias' and Actaeon's myths).

Cf. Bonnet 2019, on poluonumia, who gives the example of a quasi-hymnic passage in pseudo-Aristotelean De mundo in which the list of Zeus' appellatives aims exceptionally to be all-encompassing, ending with "to say it all" (ὡς δὲ τὸ πᾶν εἰπεῖν) for the last names. Classical praises of poluonumia are Aristophanes' Pluto 1164 and Callimachus' Hymn to Artemis 7.

Thomas 2021, 158–262.

sion of multidimensionality.10 Instead, the poet of each of the three Homeric Hymns to Dionysos is much more self-contained: Hymn 1 insists on calling the god Eiraphiotes, to underline his filiation from Zeus;11 Hymn 7 only says "son of Semele" at the start and twice at the end, avoiding dwelling on names until the god reveals himself as "I am Dionysos"; and Hymn 26, instead, is much shorter in its narrative, but presents a greater variety of epithets mostly regarding several sensorial aspects of the god: ivy-crowned, roarer, many-vined, much-hymned. They are complementary hymns in both form and naming strategies.12

As it may seem intuitively natural, in general terms, narrative hymns tend to focus on one or a few dimensions (which are often expressed by some names resulting from the narrative), while attributive hymns have more of a tendency to accumulate names and epithets which cover a greater variety of aspects. However, in narrative hymns there is also wide space for different strategies. For instance, in the collection of Homeric Hymns, the Homeric Hymn to Demeter alternates two names, Demeter and Deo, and several epithets regarding her divine dignity (1: σεμνήν; 211: πολυπότνια; 374: αἰδοίῃ; 439: ἁγνῆς), her beauty (1, 297, 315: ἠΰκομον; 302: ξανθὴ; 453: καλλισφύρου), her ornaments (224, 307, 384, 470: εὐστέφανος; 295: καλλιστέφανος), her power over fertility (54, 492: ὡρηφόρε ἀγλαόδωρε) and her mourning for her daughter (319, 374, 442: κυανόπεπλον). Instead, in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo the theonyms are Phoibos and Apollo, and the epithets concentrate on a few spheres only in clear relation to the events narrated: Apollo as an archer (ἑκηβόλος), his shining appearance when he is born (123: χρυσάορος), his patronage over paean-song (500: Ἰηπαιήων); and two local cults, indicated by Δελφίνιος (495) and Τελφούσιος (387). All of them are closely related to the myths told in the hymn. In contrast, in the Hymn to Hermes there is a greater variety of names and epithets, some of which derive from the story about the theft of Apollo's flock and the reconciliation; however, there are others with no relation to this tale at all, like ἄγγελος ἀθανατῶν or Ἀργειφόντης. The poet uses multiple epithets to reflect the variety of Hermes' timai, and takes advantage of the contrast between the innocent infant and the slayer of Argos or the grown-up messenger.13 Conversely, again, in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite the only epithet, used profusely, is φιλομειδής and the only two mentions of Kypris and Kytherea appear at the beginning and the end, for the sake of Ringkomposition.

What this swift review of the longer Homeric Hymns shows is that we should not automatically equate focusing on a single dimension of the god with the narrative hymns that recount one mythical episode. Hymnic poets may do so, but there are sev-

Cf. Herrero 2010, 92–93. The other hymns to Dionysos in the collection follow this trend: Hymns 29, 44, 45, 46, 53.

Bernabé 2013 on this epithet as expressing Dionysos' legitimacy; the only other epithet, γυναιμανής at the end of the hymn, is justified in relation to the trieteric cult established in honour of the god.

Herrero 2013.

Greene 2005.

eral degrees of focus, and they may choose to highlight the poikilia of the attributes and names of the gods. In his hymns, Callimachus characteristically strikes both chords, and has some hymns showing multifariousness of appellations (e.g. Artemis), while others concentrate on one single dimension (e.g. Demeter).

In the attributive hymns which consist mainly of chains of names, epithets and short relative orations, the general tendency certainly leans towards praising the most variegated aspects of the god, as we see in the Orphic Hymns.<sup>14</sup> Hymn 34 to Apollo accumulates the most diverse names and epithets (lines 1–7: Ἐλθέ, μάκαρ, Παιάν, Τιτυοκτόνε, Φοῖβε, Λυκωρεῦ, / Μεμφῖτ', ἀγλαότιμε, ἰήιε, ὀλβιοδῶτα, / χρυσολύρη, σπερμεῖε, ἀρότριε, Πύθιε, Τιτάν, / Γρύνειε, Σμινθεῦ, Πυθοκτόνε, Δελφικέ, μάντι, / ἄγριε, φωσφόρε δαῖμον, ἐράσμιε, κύδιμε κοῦρε, / μουσαγέτα, χοροποιέ, ἑκηβόλε, τοξοβέλεμνε, / Βράγχιε καὶ Διδυμεῦ, ἑκάεργε, Λοξία, ἁγνέ, / Δήλι' ἄναξ . . .): from Paean to Loxias, Tityos-killer, Python-killer, mantis, muse-leader, two-horned, among others, and several local denominations, aiming to cover as much of Apollo's erga and timai as possible. Curiously, Apollo appears only in the title, not in the hymn itself, as an example of purposefully avoiding any focus on a particular dimension of the god even through his name.

However, this delight in multifariousness is not always the case in attributive hymns: in several hymns addressed to Apollo in magical papyri, the epithets and names focus clearly on two dimensions, his prophetic / musical power, and his solar aspect, which are, for the composer, the keys to him acting according to the will of the practitioner.<sup>15</sup> This focus may even be attained through unusual appellatives, as we see in a 3rd/4th-century CE hymn to Apollo,16 the (fragmentary) beginning of which is: μέλπω σέ, μάκαρ, ὦ Κολοφώνιε χρησμώδης τε / πάνσοφε Δήλιε ... Πυθολετοκτυπε / Δωδώνεῦ. The epithet Δωδωνεύς recalls a sanctuary alien to Apollo's cult, and should strictly belong to Zeus, but, since Dodona is a divination sanctuary, it redirects the attention to Apollo's mantic dimension, already laid by more usual Apollinean epithets like Κολοφώνιος and χρησμώδης in the first line of the same hymn, which is repeated several times in the whole hymn along with others referring to his oracular qualities, like μάντις, Δελφικός or Πύθιος. The final lines of this hymn bring in three epithets, οὐροδρόμε, φώσφωρ, ἀεροδρόμε, which clearly refer to the god's solar dimension, bringing light and running through the air, but in combination with the previous oracular epithets and the urging verbs (ἐλθέ, σπεύσεις), have a more specific sense, bringing divine illumination quickly from above.

On the other hand, the strategy of focusing on a single aspect through epithets may be oriented towards a definite goal, such as achieving a contrast with another epithet or name that belongs to a markedly different sphere. Philodamos' paean, inscribed in

Hymn. Mag. XII P. (= 10 Blanco, not edited by Bortolani).

An interesting middle ground is the Homeric Hymn to Zeus, with only three lines of balanced invocation through epithets focusing on Zeus' all-encompassing power: cf. Bonnet 2019, 603–604.

Magical hymns are cited by their original edition in Preisendanz and their commented recent editions in Bortolani 2016 and Blanco 2017. Cf. also comments in Petrovic 2015, Blanco 2020.

Delphi in the 4th century BCE, is a clear example: it starts with a succession of typically Bacchic names, Διθύραμβε, Βάκχ', Ε[ὔιε, Ταῦρε κ]ι ̣σ ̣σοχαῖτα, Βρόμιε. Then, immediately afterwards, the god is invoked with a cultic epithet: εὐοῖ ὦ ἰὸ [Βάκχ, ὦ ἰὲ Παιά]ν. Throughout the hymn, the god is invoked with Dionysiac names, and also with a name, Paean, that traditionally belongs to the Apolline sphere. As the hymn itself says, Apollo led the Muses in singing a hymn in honour of his brother Dionysos, as a way of welcoming him to Delphi and inserting him into Delphic cult. Therefore, in Philodamos' hymn, being addressed first as Dithyramb and then as Paean puts the focus on this dual dimension of Delphic Dionysos.17 This leads us to the second aspect to be examined: the relations of the god who receives the hymn with other gods.

# 3 Place of the God Within the Pantheons: Singularity vs. Integration

A hymn is always dedicated to a specific god as the individual addressee. However, other gods may be named, because in the ancient world the polytheistic language is the natural way of thinking about the gods and singing to them. Relating the god with other gods is a constant feature in narrative hymns through the participation of diverse deities in mythical episodes, and the choice of names and epithets is also relevant for celebrating this aspect of a god's personality.

On one pole, we can put those names that aim to single out the god as completely different from the other gods. A name that distinguishes him from other gods who cannot (a priori) share it obviously accomplishes such a goal effectively, and the more such names that are accumulated, the more this singularisation is achieved. Insisting on proper names such as Dionysos / Bacchos, Apollo / Phoibos, Athene / Pallas / Tritogeneia tends to reinforce the impression that the addressee of the hymn is unique among the gods and cannot be confused with any other. The same effect is achieved with epithets that are uniquely associated with the god that is being invoked (e.g. Apollon argurotoxos). But we should not forget that these names and epithets may occasionally be transferred: as we have seen, Philodamos' paean depicts Dionysos and Apollo with distinct personalities, but in Delphic context Dionysos receives (exceptionally) the Apollinean appellative of Paean.

Distinguishing a god from others does not mean isolating him from others: a god's relations to other gods is part of his personality and his ability to associate himself with other deities (in mythical episodes and as addressees of a hymn) is a principal dimension that can be praised in the search of mutual charis. Any hymnic poet may form pantheons ad hoc: e.g. Anacreon in his short but extremely refined hymn to

Furley/Bremer 2001 (2.5).

Dionysos (PMG 357 = 4.5 Furley / Bremer) omits the god's name from the outset, starting with an impersonal ὦναξ, and names instead three other gods with epithets suited to the festive occasion: conqueror (δαμάλης) Eros, blue-eyed (κυανώπιδες) Nymphs and purple (πορφυρῆ) Aphrodite, who "play with him" (συμπαίζουσιν). They conform a pantheon very suitable for the symposiastic and erotic purposes of this hymn, which Anacreon rounds off (we may imagine, raising his cup for a toast) with a petition to attain Cleobulos' love and unveils the name of the addressee, Dionysos. The gods are kept distinct (unlike in the later magical hymns which we shall examine below) but are associated in a temporary group that suits the poet's needs.

Even more so than poetic appellatives, cultic epithets are a very helpful way of both singling out particular gods and associating them in pantheons, be they local, ad hoc, or pan-Hellenic.18 Alcaeus' hymn to Hera, initially addressed to her, is extended to Zeus and Dionysos, and the three of them together receive the final prayer: each of the three gods is invoked with their name and a specific epithet granted by the Lesbians (fr. 129 Voigt = 4.4 Furley / Bremer):

ὦ πότνια Ἤρα, τᾶι τόδε Λέσβιοι ὄρος κὰτ] εὔδειλον τέμενος μέγα ξῦνον κά[τε]σσαν ἐν δὲ βώμοις ἀθανάτων μακάρων ἔθηκαν

κἀπωνύμασσαν ἀντίαον Δία σὲ δ᾽ Αἰολήιαν [κ]υδαλίμαν θέον πάντων γενέθλαν, τὸν δὲ τέρτον τόνδε κεμήλιον ὠνύμασσ[α]ν

Ζόννυσσον ὠμήσταν. ἄ[γι]τ' εὔνοον θῦμον σκέθοντες ἀμμετέρα[ς] ἄρας ἀκούσατ', ἐκ δὲ τῶν[δ]ε μόχθων ἀργαλέας τε φύγας ρ[ύεσθε·

O Mistress Hera, to whom the people of Lesbos, on a conspicuous mountain, once set up a large precinct, to be shared by all, and placed therein altars for the immortal gods,

giving Zeus the title: "suppliants' god" and you: "famous goddess of the Aeolians, mother of all"; as for the third one here, they called him: god of the deer,

Versnel 2011 has dealt with the problem of whether cult epithets address different deities or a single one under different avocations. However, this issue concerns inscriptions. In hymns, the addressees are unified through the hymn itself as an act of cult addressed to a specific deity. As an example, Versnel offers (p. 82) the case of Callimachus' Hymn to Apollo, 69–71: "O Apollo, many call you Boedromios, many call you Clarios, you have many names everywhere, but I call you Carneios, since this is an ancestral custom".

Dionysos, who devours them raw. We call upon you, listen benevolently to our prayers, save us from present hardship and from the sadness of the exile.

The cultic titles of each of the three gods (as the poet states explicitly) reinforce their personality as specific local deities who should be prayed to for safety, and at the same time associate the three of them in a Lesbian pantheon, which is invoked and ordained by Alcaeus for the purposes of this hymn.19

In more common epithets that have no cultic association with a specific god, the distinction of one god in regard to the others may spring not from qualitative difference but rather from degree. The superlative (ὑπέρτατος, ὕψιστος) also creates this impression that the god being invoked is superior to others. Chaniotis labelled the theological feeling (rather than a consistent doctrine) implied in this hymnic proclamation of the greatest deity as "megatheism". Parker has recently coined the term "superlativism" from a more formal perspective: these epithets single out the addressee as radically different in degree, rather than in quality, from other deities.20 In the previously quoted hymns from Anacreon and Alcaeus, a certain hierarchy emerged from ordination within the hymn, while in these cases it comes from the superlatives themselves.

On the other pole we should put the appellations that, instead of singling out a god from the others, tend to conflate him with part of the pantheon or even the totality of it. Firstly, let us name those epithets that underline the general divine features that all gods share with the hymned deity: e.g. "immortal", "mighty", makar, etc. These have been baptised as trans-divine epithets.21 Even without a superlative to single him out within the hymn at least, no god would be adverse to receiving some of these epithets that abound in his divinity. But a long string of these epithets doubtlessly creates a sensation of homogeneity with any other god. They are, therefore, particularly suited to those gods whose divinity is not so evident: e.g. deified men.22 A Hellenistic ruler undoubtedly takes special pleasure in being called athanatos, soter, or just or "divine" or "son of X" (X being any god), which might be banal for traditional gods.

Regarding proper names, the juxtaposition of several names and epithets characteristic of different deities may bring about precisely the opposite result to singularisation, i.e. the assimilation of distinct gods so that they seem fused in the same deity. Though this is a very complex phenomenon, we may restrict its hymnic expression to a simple label like "integration" for the sake of avoiding the confusions caused by "syncretism" and kindred terms.<sup>23</sup> Both the first and the most prominent instances are

Pirenne-Delforge/Pironti 2022, 194–201.

Chaniotis 2010, Parker 2016, 83. Bonnet 2019, 605.

Brulé 1998.

Greene 2021, 75–76, on these hymns, of which only epigraphic fragments survive apart from Theocritus' Encomium of Ptolemy.

Motte/Pirenne-Delforge 1994, Bonnet 2022.

found in the Orphic poetic tradition of conflating deities in hymnic invocations which juxtaposed different names. The line preserved in the Derveni Papyrus from an ancient lost collection of Orphic Hymns shows a conflating purpose: "Demeter Rhea Ge Meter and Hestia Deo" (Δημήτηρ Ῥέα Γῆ Μήτηρ Ἑστία [τε] Δηιώι).24 This line equates, through juxtaposition and coordination, four different goddesses, who seem to be covered by the epiclesis Deo under one single title and thus made one and the same. In the 2ndcentury (preserved) collection of Orphic Hymns, the abundance of Dionysiac epithets for many other gods contributes to the sensation that Dionysos is a god that conflates with many others (Phanes, Protogonos, etc.), and vice versa.25 The variegated versions of an Orphic "hymn to the Sun" also equate different gods through the anaphoric repetition of the typically hymnic exclamation heis + divine name: "one is Zeus, one is Hades, one is Helios, one is Dionysos (εἷς Ζεύς, εἷς Ἀΐδης, εἷς Ἥλιος, εἷς Διόνυσος). Either through influence from Orphic poetry, or because Orphic poems inserted themselves into a wider "integrative" strand, similar lines were composed by the Emperor-philosopher Julian and appear in several Apollinean oracles from Claros.26

Hymnic integration of different deities through juxtaposition of names and epithets was not restricted to the speculative strand. Several hymns to Apollo preserved in magical papyri present traditional names and epithets of the god juxtaposed with others that are clearly alien, in order to expand Apollo's personality towards a solar omnipotent deity. In one of them, Chryses' invocation in Iliad 1, 37–41 is reused, but with three lines inserted in the middle that invoke him as "Iaoth, Sabaoth, Meliouchos, tyrant / Peuchre, night-wanderer, Sesengen Barpharages / Αrbeth, multiform, friend of magi, Arbathiao". 27 These exotic non-Greek names expand the traditional Homeric Apollo to much further divine realms. Conversely, in another hymn, the first part is directed towards Helios, with solar, fiery and cosmological imagery mainly expressed through epithets (πυρὸς ταμία, τηλεσκόπε, παμφαές, ὐρανοφοῖτα, etc.), and the second part introduces Apollinean appellations (Μουσάων σκηπτοῦχε, Ἰήιε κισσεοχαίτα, Φοῖβε): as Miriam Blanco argues, it is most probably a conflation of two different hymns into one in order to invoke the Apollinean-Heliac deity that the author of the magical text wants to invoke to grant him divinatory powers.28

Orph. Fragm. 398 B, which extracts the line from col. XXII of the Derveni Papyrus, in which the commentator wants to prove that different goddesses are the same and quotes this line from "the Hymns" (ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἐν τοῖς Ὕμνοις εἰ ̣ρ[η]μένον) as proof.

Herrero 2010; Herrero 2015.

Orph. Fragm. 543, quoted by several sources; Macrobius, Saturnalia, 1.18, quoting the Orphic line and several Apollinean oracles; Julian, Or. 11.136. Cf. Herrero 2010, 93–95. Parker 2016, 81–87 for Aelius Aristides' henotheism in his prose hymns to Zeus and Sarapis.

Hymn. Mag. XIII = 8 Bortolani = 2 Blanco.

Hymn. Mag. XI = 7 Bortolani = 8 Blanco. Cf. Blanco 2017, 218–250: her hymns 7 and 8 are unified in Preisendanz's edition (and Bortolani's), but the papyrus shows a line of ritual instructions which separates the previous hymn addressed to Apollinean laurel (7) from this one (8).

Of course, we might distinguish degrees of integration between two or more deities, between akin gods or gods with different origins, and many other types of conflation from the religious point of view. However, in all these cases the hymnic strategies of godnaming are similar and straightforward: juxtaposition of names fosters identification.

As a particular case that escapes the polarity of singularisation vs. integration, we may mention the hymns to "all the gods": they may be hierarchised through an ordination of a long list, like in the initial invocation in the collection of Orphic Hymns; in Epidauros, a shorter list (Asclepios, Dioscuri, Graces, Muses, Moirai, Helios, Selene, "and all the heavenly bodies") is completed by the safeguard formulation "all the gods and all the goddesses who live for ever, rejoice and come over this temple of Epidauros" (6.7 Furley / Bremer). Instead of lists, the gods may simply be addressed all together, as in the first of Proclus' Hymns "to all the gods", which does not name any of them. This is an instance of absolute integration of all gods within the whole divine pantheon, precisely through anonymity of every single god. And it takes us to the next aspect, that is, the conscious selfreflection of the poet on the appropriateness of the god's name.

# 4 The Importance of Naming: Hesitant vs. Self-Confident Epithets

We now turn to the other side of the charis, i.e. from the god's delight to the poet's inspiration. Part of the charis from the god is reflected in the inspiration of the song itself. However, in order to obtain such grace, the god must first be pleased. The poet hopes to inaugurate this virtuous circle of mutual grace with the right choice of names. However, this is not an easy task, and the poet, conscious of this difficulty, may choose either to acknowledge this explicitly and declare his insufficiency in finding the right names, or to try to suppress it by justifying his decisions about naming.

The pinnacle of perfection would be a hymn which would aim to cover all the aspects of the god with its names. But to exhaust all the possibilities of names seems beyond the scope of any poet, no matter how inspired he might be, and choices and renunciations are inevitable. Sometimes this conscience is expressed through wideranging formulations that apologise for the shortcomings of human naming abilities. Ever since the chorus' famous words in Aeschylus' Agamemnon (160–162: "Zeus, whoever he may be ̶if by this name it pleases him to be invoked, by this name I call to him"), the conscience of the limits of any divine name became a constant possible element in Greek hymnic literature. Plato says in the Cratylus 400e: "of the gods we know nothing, neither of them nor of their names, whatever they may be, by which they call themselves, for it is clear that they use the true names. But there is a second kind of correctness, that we call them, as is customary in prayers, by whatever names and patronymics are pleasing to them (ὁπόθεν χαίρουσιν ὀνομαζόμενοι), since we know no other." In Euripides' Trojans, Hecabe's prayer seems to be influenced by these ideas (884–886): "O you that do support the earth and rest thereupon, whoever you are, a riddle past our knowledge! Zeus, whether you are natural necessity, or man's intellect, to you I pray". And upon hearing her, Menelaos exclaims: "What is this? How innovative is the prayer you offer to the gods! (εὐχὰς ὡς ἐκαίνισας θεῶν)".

Perhaps due to the impact of this prestigious literary tradition, it became conventional to express doubts about the appropriateness of the chosen names, either through conditionals, or through clauses like "whatever name pleases you and however you want to be named" in Julian's Hymn to Zeus, or as Menander puts it in his exemplary hymn, "whether you delight in these appellations, or in some more favoured than these". However, the fact that this is not a purely literary convention is witnessed by inscriptions which attest the presence in cult of such expressions of doubt.<sup>29</sup> The fear of missing the right name is a powerful reason for such cautions, no matter how conventional they may have become. Besides, as Versnel pointed out, there is also good rhetorical ground for poets to abound on human inability to reach the correct divine name, since it allows them to accumulate lists of names and epithets that aim to compensate for their insufficiency by lengthening the praise.<sup>30</sup> Indeed, the use of such expressions as a conclusion to a long string of names is common, so that all possible ways of reaching charis are covered. The epithet poluonumos not only fulfils the function of expressing multidimensionality; it also reflects a self-consciousness by the poet of the plurality of divine names that, in this context, may also indicate the inadequacy of any of them to grasp the essence of the god.

To this pole that doubts the sufficiency of any specific name also belongs a completely different strategy that seems opposite to poluonumia: stressing the anonymity of the god. Some hymns purposefully avoid naming their divine addressee with any proper name other than theos or daimon. A hymn in a magical papyrus contrasts with the usual proliferation of names, addressing the god as "founder of all, god of gods, Lord" (παντὸς κτίστα, θεῶν θεέ, κοίρανε). Though the next verse utters the vocative "Pan", it is dubious that this is thought to be the name of the shepherd god, but rather as the abstract for "all". <sup>31</sup> The comparison with an Epidaurian hymn to Pan, full of epithets resounding with music and dance, shows that the shepherd Pan has very little to do with the abstract "All". 32

Another example is an Orphic hymn, quoted by Clement of Alexandria as an intuition of the Biblical god, which praises an anonymous deity as the mightiest god with similar vocatives: τύραννε, ἄφθιτε, μητροπάτωρ, ἄφθιτον, ἀθάνατον, ῥητὸν μόνον ἀθανάτοισιν, μέγιστε θεῶν πάντων, φρικτός, ἀήττητος. All these epithets may qualify

Versnel 2011, 50–62.

Versnel 2011, 54, 59.

Hymn. Mag. II Pr = 2 Blanco = 4 Bortolani. Cf. Blanco 2017, 353–38; 2020, 276–278.

Furley/Bremer 2001 (hymn 6.5). Only the last sentence of the hymn, "you are the foundation of everything (πάντων), ie, Pan, Pan", shows a hint of the possibilities that the name of the shepherd god opens for cosmic speculations.

any supreme deity: the expression "utterable only to the immortals" may reflect the idea that only the gods know the deity's name.33 This lack of personal name is exceptional but not completely unheard of.<sup>34</sup> It also finds correspondence in civic cult, as the famous Areopagus altar to the Unknown God (ἄγνωστος θεός) shows (Act. 17:23). Furthermore, the Jewish tradition of making the name of the god a taboo undoubtedly fostered this trend. A clear case is another magical hymn which starts with five lines of rhetorical questions about "who made . . .? Who created . . .?" and ends up answering them all with this line: "one is the immortal god, creator of all, you have generated everything" (εἷς θεὸς ἀθάνατος· πάντων γενέτωρ σὺ πέφυκας). The following lines name his powers, and address him only as "king of the Aeons and Lord" (Αἰώνων βασιλεῦ καὶ κύριε), and "Lord almighty, saint and ruler of all" (κύριε παντοκράτωρ, ἅγιε καὶ δέσποτα πάντων). The clearest parallels of this sort of praise of God as an answer to questions are found in the Old Testament (Job, Psalms), and also the anonymity of the god points to a Jewish influence in this strategy. Jewish pseudoepigraphic hymnic compositions like the so-called Testament of Orpheus (or hymnic passages in the Sybilline Oracles) also proclaim an anonymous theos. <sup>35</sup> However, parallels in the Corpus Hermeticum show that anonymity was not restricted to hymns with Jewish roots, but was also seen as a useful tool for apophatic theology in other spheres.<sup>36</sup>

In the exact opposite pole to acknowledging the inability to name the god correctly, several other strategies may be deployed by the poet in order to justify and reinforce his confidence in the choice of names and epithets made. These justifications can be of very different kinds: one of the commonest is an explanation of the name through stories or through (usually false) etymologies: e.g. in Menander's hymn, "Egyptians call you Horus (for you bring round the seasons, horai)". This sort of imaginative etymologies abounds in Orphic hymns (in the 2nd century collection and out of it), since this familiarity with the gods which provides knowledge of their true divine names is a characteristic trait of the Orphic tradition.37 Likewise, the explicit grounding in local or general traditions of naming the god is also frequent, as we saw in Menander's paradigmatic hymn. Such resource is shared by cultic and literary hymns: much before Menander's pedantic example, Alcaeus grounded his epithets in the local sanctuary; Callimachus, as an erudite poet, is particularly fond of this strategy that allows him to

Cf. Bernabé 1992.

Orph. Fragm. 690 B. Clement (Strom. 5.14.125.1) does not necessarily quote the hymn fully, so we cannot rule out that he omits the lines in which some proper divine name was included.

Cf. Versnel 2011, 54, refuting previous statements that consider it impossible to pray to an anonymous god.

Herrero 2010, 85–90.

Blanco 2020, 274–279. For examples of Hermetic anonymous hymns, see Corp.Herm. I 31, starting with ἅγιος ὁ θεὸς καὶ πατὴρ τῶν ὅλων, repeated anaphorically three times. Corp.Herm. V, 10: this is god superior to any name (ὁ θεός ὀνόματος κρείττων), etc. Corp.Herm. XIII, 16–20. On agnostoi theoi, cf. Norden 1913, 115–124.

dig out obscure local names and epithets; and in Isiac hymns equivalences to other names that equate her to other Mediterranean female deities are ubiquitous.38

Odder ways of justifying a divine name may be attached to the sound or letters of the name itself in magical hymns, where we also find some numerological allusions to the syllables of the name, which is thus supposed to have enchanting proprieties: a mysterious theriomorphic god with solar attributes is invoked as δισύλλαβος after which the exclamation AH seems to be that mystifying dysillabic name;<sup>39</sup> and a hymn to Helios claims his name is equal in number to the Moirai (κλῄζω δ' οὔνομα σὸν Μοίραις αὐταῖς ἰσάριθμον).<sup>40</sup> Again, Jewish influence may be traceable in such proto-Kabbalistic arithmetic speculation attached to divine names.<sup>41</sup> But alphabetical grounding is not restricted to Jewish-influenced hymns: the alphabetic ordination of epithets in two hymns of the Palatine Anthology (AP 9.524–525) justifies their choice in a formal criterion which offers a neat guidance to the selection and ordering of epithets.<sup>42</sup>

To this pole we must also ascribe two other different possibilities in which the author's confidence in his name choice is particularly emphasised. One is the hymn in the so-called ich-Stil in which the god himself says his name, which therefore has the incontestable authority of divine revelation. The author is a mere medium of such revelation: e.g. Isis' aretalogy in Cyme claims to be transcribed by Demetrius from a stele in Memphis (I.Kyme 41). Isis' self-presentation in Apuleius' Metamorphosis (9.5) also employs ich-Stil with a series of names from diverse lands (for Phrygians, Mother of the Gods; for Cypriots, Aphrodite, etc.) ending by saying that Egyptians call her by her true name, Isis. This is her answer to Lucius' previous oration, which had invoked her as regina coeli, who might be Demeter, Aphrodite, Artemis or Persephone, or "by whatever name, and by whatever rite, and in whatever form, it is permitted to invoke you". A direct revelation from the goddess is clearly the surest way to find out her truest name.

E.g. Isidoros' Hymn to Isis (SEG 8, 548/51): "All mortals who live on the boundless earth, Thracians, Greeks and barbarians, express your fair name, a Name greatly honoured among all, but each speaks in his own language, in his own land. The Syrians call You: Astarte, Artemis, Nanaia;", etc.; cf. the invocation to Isis preserved in P. Oxy. 1380.

Hymn. Mag. III Pr. = 5 Bortolani = 15 Blanco. Cf. Calvo 2004, 276–277. As Blanco 2017, 396–398 says, the only theonym discernible is Κάνθαρος (beetle), a Greek rendering of the Egyptian Khephri, a name of the solar god Ra.

Hymn. Mag. IV Pr. = 1.30, 2.20Α, 2.23B Bortolani = 14 Blanco. The hymn insists that the god should "not be angry over my sacred invocations" (μηδὲ cὺ μηνίcῃc ἐπ' ἐμαῖc ἱεραῖc ἐπαοιδαῖc), which shows both the dangers of naming wrongly and self-confidence over this particular prayer.

It also appears in the Sibylline Oracles: ἐννέα γράμματ' ἔχω, τετρασύλλαβός εἰμι· νόει με· (Orac. Sib. I, 137–146 Geffcken = Theos. Tub. III.112 Beatrice).

Thomas 2021, 155 insists that these hymns must not be seen as a frivolous linguistic game, but as the expression of a serious religious principle, i.e. the involvement of the audience in the construction of the god.

In a more attenuated form, invocations to the Muses asking for inspiration to sing to a specific god appropriately may also be applied to the choice of names: in an Epidaurian hymn to the Mother of the Gods (6.2 Furley/Bremer), a vocative repeated at strategic places begins with an invocation to some goddesses to "come here and sing together with me" (θεαί, δεῦρ᾽ ἔλθετε και μοι συναείσατε): the following accusative is precisely the right name (τὰν Ματέρα τῶν θεῶν), repeated insistently by the poet throughout the poem.

A different connotation is derived from another authorial device to mark the confidence in the appropriateness of a divine name, which is (with or without divine help) to "invent" or "discover" a new divine entity as the addressee of the hymn. They tend to be philosophical and speculative exercises, like Aristotle's "Hymn to Arete" or the Orphic-Pythagorean "Hymn to Number". The merit of such poems is precisely to deify, even allegorically, an abstract idea by way of a hymn, thus praising not only this "new" god but also the author's inventiveness. This intellectual strategy was popular among some Gnostic and Hermetic composers of hymns, who addressed the deity with proudly original names, the merit of which resides precisely in their novelty as ways of solving the problem of god-naming through self-reflection: e.g. the culminating prayer (for which the original Greek is lost) in the Hermetic treatise Asclepius is indeed a "hymn to Name" in which the addressee is the divine ὄνομα (41: nomen sanctum et honorandum, nomen unum, quo solus deus est benedicendus religione paterna).

To sum up: attachment to tradition is the most common strategy for justifying confidence in choosing an appropriate name for the god, but in some circles, this confidence may spring precisely from an explicit detachment from a tradition which is considered inadequate for naming the god appropriately.

# 5 Participants of the Divine Charis: Generalising vs. Particular Names

The fourth and final polarity also pays attention to the pole of human beings as givers and receivers of charis. As a magical hymn to Selene says, "be gracious / be delighted, goddess, and hearken to your names" (χαῖρε, θεά, καὶ σαῖσιν ἐπωνυμίαις ἐπάκουσον).<sup>43</sup> The names will result in the god's delight and in divine favour, both aspects implied in the charis provided by the hymn. We will now focus on the effects that the favour of the gods will have on those who give and receive the charis, be they larger or smaller collectives, or even individuals. This favouring charis of the gods towards men is reflected in divine names and epithets in several ways.

PGM IV 2786–2870 (4th cent) = 15 Bortolani. Cf. Thomas 2021, 155–158.

Let us form one first pole with the most general appellatives, names and epithets that do not generally singularise the action of the god in any particular community: names like Zeus, Apollo, or epithets like pater, anax, etc. can be shared by all Greekspeaking men. Those that show a kind disposition towards human beings are particularly frequent in final petitions for the beneficiaries of divine favour: soter, for instance, can be assigned to practically any god who is asked to protect in any circumstance against an imminent or potential danger.44 Though generally restricted to the Apollinean sphere, Paean is also quite generalising in its potential application to any situation requiring divine protection. Other epithets seem more limited to specific situations: e.g. euploios for protection of sailing, or composites with -technas for patronage of practical skills (ὑψιτέχνης for Asclepios in an Epidaurian hymn makes him patron of medicine, ἀριστοτέχνης for Zeus in a Pindaric hymn makes him the supreme artist).45 These are epithets that emphasise the argument da quia dare tuum est. <sup>46</sup> Though restrictive in regard to the mode of action, these epithets do not delimit the beneficiaries of the god's protection, which can be universal. They may be restricted through a dative (for this city, for the initiates) or a genitive (saviour/protector of this city): however, even in these cases, a hymn with such kinds of names and epithets can be easily transplanted into other contexts in the absence of particularising names.

In the other pole of this dichotomy are the names and epithets that restrict the sphere of the divine actuation towards a limited group of people: local appellations are related to the place of origin or the cult sanctuaries of the god, and may imply that the favour is solely directed at the local community. In some cases, invocations to the god using particular names which only have a full meaning for the local community have this restrictive sense. They may be names of local deities (e.g. Hipta in the Orphic Hymns, a minor deity from Asia Minor) or local epikleseis of deities (e.g. Apollo Smintheus). Local epithets in Homer are restricted to those occasions in which the prayer comes from someone who emphasises his local affinity as a means to obtain favour, and this Homeric tendency undoubtedly reflects a usual hymnic strategy.<sup>47</sup> Such restriction of charis need not always be local, but may also be aimed at a translocal group. Mystery cults typically fostered distinctions between the sacred and the profane that transcend local boundaries. Correspondingly, in hymns there may be names and epithets which only make sense for the group of initiates who understand their full meaning: e.g. the god Protogonos, or the epithet τρίγονος for Dionysos in the Orphic Hymns are only comprehensible for those who know the complicated episodes

Jim 2022.

Furley/Bremer 2001, 6.7. Pind. Fr. 57 S-M (on this epithet, cf. Herrero 2015b).

Hopman 2001, 43 referring to the Orphic Hymns with some examples.

Cf. Herrero 2021. However, sometimes this local restriction is ambiguous: for instance, πάντων γενέθλαν in the aforementioned Alcaeus' hymn may refer to all men, all things, or all Aeolians (Furley/ Bremer 2001, 173, hymn 4.4).

of the Orphic theogonies.48 Even beyond the mysteries, names with a liturgical or cultic connotation will be particularly meaningful for those who participate in the cult.

The most extreme restriction of charis comes from those names that only one person, the author of the hymn, can understand, and hence can solely profit from the benefits of divine charis. This is the function of many mysterious names in the magical hymns, as the aforementioned hymn to an Egyptian solar theriomorphic deity states explicitly: "come for me, I beseech you, because I pronounce your secret symbols (νεῦσον ἐμοί, λίτομαι, ὅτι σύμβολα μυστικὰ φράζω)". This line is self-explanatory in terms of the obscure names in the previous lines, which address a deity with solar attributes and animal forms: only the poet-magician knows exactly what he means, for he is the only true initiate.<sup>49</sup> Another hymn insistently conjures several gods (with initial anaphora of ὁρκίζω) with several names of Biblical and Greek origin, ending with these lines: "I conjure these sacred and divine names (ὁρκίζω τὰ ἅγια καὶ θεῖα ὀνόματα ταῦτα), for they send me the divine spirit (ὅπως ἂν πέμψωσί μοι τὸ θεῖον πνεῦμα) and what I have in my mind and soul may be accomplished (καὶ τελέσῃ † ἃ ἔχω † κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν)". <sup>50</sup> In these hymns, invocations aim to generate a completely privatised charis, and the abundance of incomprehensible names is due to that restriction imposed by the magical practitioner. However, let us not forget that this privileged understanding of the magician is also a rhetorical device typical of magical literature: the fact that it was written down in papyri may suggest that these meanings were explained to other magicians orally, but it also seems likely that these "sacred names" were often repeated mechanically without full comprehension of their supposedly intended meaning.

# 6 Conclusions

After this necessarily selective overview, we can draw some conclusions. Firstly, the composer of a hymn had some rhetorical choices at his disposal when deciding how to name the god in order to achieve charis. He might choose to focus or to generalise, to mention one god or several, to show inspired self-confidence or humble inability, and to use transparent or mysterious appellatives. He could also opt for intermediate possibilities and combinations between all these poles. Although contexts and generic traditions may push in one direction or other, the variety of hymns in each of these possibilities shows that there was no mechanical obligation to follow conventions and that any composer of a hymn is forced to take stands when it comes to god-naming.

Cf. Herrero 2015a.

Cf. notes 39–40 above.

Hymn. Mag. 1.18–19 Bortolani = 1c Blanco. Cf. Petrovic 2015, Blanco 2017, 65–90.

L'embarras du choix, to use Versnel's expression, is particularly vivid in the selection and combinations of god-naming and it cannot be avoided.

Secondly, the panorama that has been depicted is common to all sorts of hymns, from the most literary, abstract and philosophical hymns to the most obscure, practical and magical ones, and including all the possibilities of cultic hymns, be they narrative or descriptive. Granted, there may be many relevant differences between them due to the many types of hymns, the diversity of regions and religious traditions, or the diachronic variations among them, which have not been taken into account here; but the previous pages demonstrate that, as Menander said, the choice of a strategy for god-naming is one of the essential features of the hymnic genre throughout Greek antiquity.

# Bibliography


Greene, Robin J. (2021), Post-Classical Greek Elegy and Lyric Poetry, Boston / Leiden.

Herrero de Jáuregui, Miguel (2010), "Orphic God(s): Theogonies and Hymns as Roads for Monotheism", in: Stephen Mitchell / Peter van Nuffelen (eds.), Monotheism between Pagans and Christians in Late Antiquity, Leuven, 77–100.


Herrero de Jáuregui, Miguel (2015b), "Aristotechnas", in: Jesús Ángel y Espinós et al. (eds.), Hygieia kai Gelos: Homenaje a Ignacio Rodríguez Alfageme, Zaragoza, 367–378.

Herrero de Jáuregui, Miguel (2021) "Les épithètes toponymiques des dieux dans l'Iliade", in: Corinne Bonnet / Gabriella Pironti (eds.), Les dieux d'Homère III: attributs onomastiques, Liège (Kernos suppl. 37), 191–208.

Hopman, Marianne (2001), "Le jeu des épithètes dans les Hymnes orphiques", in: Kernos 14, 35–49.

Jaillard, Dominique (2021), "Réflexions sur l'usage des épithètes divines dans les Hymnes homériques", in: Corinne Bonnet / Gabriella Pironti (eds.), Les dieux d'Homère III: attributs onomastiques, Liège (Kernos suppl. 37), 171–187.

Jim, Theodora F. S. (2022), Soteria and Saviour Gods in Ancient Greece, Oxford.

Macedo, José Marcos / Kölligan, Daniel / Barbieri, Pedro (2021), Polyónymoi: A Lexicon of the Divine Epithets in the Orphic Hymns, Würzburg.

Morand, Anne-France (2015), "The Narrative Techniques of the Orphic Hymns", in: Andrew Faulkner / Owen Hodkinson (eds.), Hymnic Narrative and the Narratology in Greek Hymns, Leiden / Boston, 209–223.

Motte, André / Pirenne-Delforge, Vinciane (1994), "Du bon usage de la notion de syncrétisme", in: Kernos 7, 11–27.

Norden, Eduard (1913), Agnostos Theos: Untersuchungen zur Formengeschichte religiöser Rede, Berlin / Leipzig.

Parker, Robert (2016), "Religion in the Prose Hymns", in: Donald A. Russell / Michael Trapp / Hans-Günther Nesselrath (eds.), In Praise of Asclepius. Aelius Aristides. Selected Prose Hymns, Tübingen, 67–88.

Petrovic, Ivana (2015), "Hymns in the Papyri Graecae Magicae", in: Andrew Faulkner / Owen Hodkinson (eds.), Hymnic Narrative and the Narratology of Greek Hymns, Leiden / Boston, 244–267.

Pirenne-Delforge, Vinciane / Pironti, Gabriella, (2022), The Hera of Zeus, Cambridge.

Race, William H. (1982), "Aspects of rhetoric and form in Greek hymns", in: Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 23, 5–14.

Thomas, Oliver (2021), "Powers of Suggestion of Powers: Attribute-Lists in Greek Hymns", in: Rebecca Laemmle et al. (eds), Lists and Catalogues in Ancient Literature and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of Enumeration, Berlin / Boston, 145–168.

Versnel, Henk (2011), Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology, Boston / Leiden.

# Jörg Rüpke Divine Names and Naming the Divine in Livy

Abstract: Analyses of the practices of addressing and naming the divine based only on inscriptions run the risk of only partially grasping religious communication. The same holds true for analyses of literary texts as proposed here. This chapter will analyse a large corpus of text, Livy's History Ab urbe condita. Although the text is the product of just one author, it includes a variety of direct and indirect speech and refers to a vast range of historical situations and agents. The focus will be on two questions: How are deities invoked by the authors and their protagonists in open discourse, either in the form of invocations or by speaking about the divine and divinities? And how is such discourse reported in these genres which (unlike in the epic genre, for instance) generally do not grant agency to the divine? Methodically, Livy's narratives are read as a reflection on those of other people and as instances of the author's practices of naming the divine.

# 1 Introduction

Gods do not have names, but gods are created by being addressed in a specific type of communication that we call "religious". It is characterized by involving addressees beyond those who are unquestionably plausible within a given situation like human agents.<sup>1</sup> On such a conceptual basis, divine names can be analysed as signs in social strategies rather than indications of some essence of referents that have some continuing existence beyond the acts of referring to them. Here, the "Lived ancient religion" approach and the conceptual tools of "Mapping ancient polytheism" overlap.<sup>2</sup> Both are concerned with a more precise description and understanding of the use of divine names. How do ancient religious agents employ and continue a strategy that suggests a plurality of divine addressees to the practitioners and their audiences? The question, then, is not, "What is ancient (or rather, Mediterranean<sup>3</sup> )

Thus Rüpke 2015. – I am grateful to Maria Pätzold, Erfurt, for her careful reading of the first draft of this text. I enjoyed working on this text in the framework of the Graduate School "Resonant selfworld relationships" (DFG, IRT 2283).

See Rüpke 2012b; Bonnet et al. 2019; Bonnet 2019; Galoppin et al. (eds.) 2022; Rüpke 2021, 66–83; for the constructionist approach at the basis, see Belayche/Pirenne-Delforge (eds.) 2015; Bonnet et al. (eds.) 2017. Given the multiple renaissances and ongoing practices (see, e.g., Barbera/Contessa/Barbera 2021 for an account of and invitation to contemporary Roman polytheism; and Gladigow 1998; Gladigow 2002), the purely temporal definition, implying a claim about the irrevocable end of the practices analysed, seems rather out of place.

polytheism?" <sup>4</sup> Instead, we need to ask how polytheism is done and for which purposes.

Against this wider background, the task envisaged in this chapter becomes much smaller, focusing on polytheistic strategies in Latin texts and on the Italian peninsula. Latin, admittedly, is rather on the margins of the MAP project and its database. The textual remnants of the ancient Mediterranean and circum-Mediterranean world consist mainly of Greek and cuneiform texts rather than Latin letters. Yet, in a comparative perspective on naming practices in religious communication, the Latin material is interesting as it not only shares the geographical space but also many cultural traditions, and it developed in a world pre-formatted by near-Eastern and Greek and Hellenistic practices and ideas.

Texts are bound to situations and their generic traditions, even if we allow for flexibility and a critical and innovative engagement of speakers with predecessors and traditions. Thus, analyses of the practices of addressing and naming the divine based only on inscriptions run the risk of grasping only one segment of religious communication, albeit the one that has been particularly overlooked in systemic reconstructions that were built on a few canonical texts like Homer or Varro. Of course, the same critique holds true for analyses of literary texts as proposed here. Thus, I do not claim to offer a better view but simply complementary evidence. To avoid such an addition being based on too small a foundation, my analysis is rooted in a multi-volume text, Livy's History Ab urbe condita. The text, although it is the product of just one author, includes a variety of direct and indirect speeches and refers to a vast range of historical situations and agents.

The focus will be on a twofold question: How are deities invoked by the authors and their protagonists in open discourse, either in the form of invocations or by speaking about the divine and divinities? And, how is such discourse reported in a genre, historiography, which (unlike in epic, for instance) generally does not grant agency to the divine? Methodically, I take Livy's narrative to be as much a reflection on other people's narratives as well as instances of the author's practices of naming the divine. It is in a close reading and contextualising interpretation of relevant passages against the overall practices statistically graspable in the extant books that these aspects have to be disentangled. The analysis is carried out using the tools of TUSTEP, allowing a search for complex and varying strings and displaying contexts of a defined size.5 It is embedded in a sketch of the text's origin and communicative situation. To summarise the relationship of such data with epigraphic sources: Whereas the latter are typically consciously designed and extremely abbreviated and selective reports on, or continuations of, rituals, with Livy, we are in the realm of invented or reported rituals within the non-religious speech acts of historiography.

Brelich 1960; Detienne 1986; Scheid 1987; Ahn 1993; Rüpke 2012a; Van Andringa 2014; Miano 2019; cf. Rüpke 2013.

For further information, see http://www.tustep.uni-tuebingen.de (accessed 20th February, 2023).

# 2 Livy

Little is known about the life of Titus Livius.<sup>6</sup> There is no ancient biography of Livy. He was presumably born in 59 BCE, or at least Jerome gives Livy's birth under this year – together with Valerius Messalla whom, however, we know for sure was born in 64 BCE. According to Jerome's Chronicle, Livy died in 17 CE, so he would have lived for seventy-five years. As an Italian, he consciously experienced the civil war between Caesar and Pompey when he was young and gathered his formative impressions in the subsequent conflict between Octavian and Marcus Antonius.

Livy was born in Patavium, today's Padua, which at the time of his birth was not yet part of Italia but Gallia Transpadana. Patavium only became a municipality in 41 BCE but was a large town by ancient standards. There are ancient, albeit disputed, reports that he wrote philosophical texts, but they may have veered heavily into the historical sphere. None of these texts have survived. However, Livy had educational deficits in many areas that are noticeable in his historical work. Above all, he did not belong to the Roman elite and had no political experience whatsoever, not even military experience.

It is this Livy who, after the conclusion of the civil wars, began his account of Roman history in about the year 29 or 28 BCE. Since he was dedicated to his work throughout his life, he must have written about three to four history books per year. He composed a work that has become canonical for Roman history7 and that in this respect is comparable to Vergil's Aeneid, also an outsider, originating from Mantua. Literary texts and the relationship of such texts with the places that they thematised were much more mobile than inscriptions. However, Livy wrote most of his history in Rome, where he had the necessary sources at his direct disposal. He died at Padua, which means that he must have moved back to Padua some, perhaps even several, years before his death, leaving the court where he had become acquainted with Augustus, who described him as a Pompeian, a friend of the Republic, and where he seems to have had an influence on the later emperor Claudius, awakening historical interests in him. Livy was writing for a society that had just survived a civil war and seemed to be moving on to another epoch.

Livy's main achievement is not that he thoroughly examined the sources available to him and thus made them available to us, but rather that he made history readable, sometimes telling it quickly, covering long stretches of time in a few sentences. Yet, time and again he also vividly shaped individual episodes and thus in many ways provided the material for stories – now clearly in the plural – that shaped the image of Rome for two millennia to come.

The following introduction is based on Rüpke 2014.

Cf. Grandazzi 1997; Liou-Gille 2003; 2004.

Livy was not concerned with pragmatic historiography, i.e., he was not writing for politicians who were supposed to see how the Roman Republic works and how to deal with the Senate and the People's Assembly in a successful way. In his urban history, Livy was more interested in what we can perhaps call "human interest". He was concerned with individual fates, moral probation in history, and at times also with the victims of history and what people went through and experienced. He wanted to make history tangible, and his way of presenting it was geared towards this end. That is why he wrote speeches and dialogues covering all phases of Roman history and easily crossing the borderlines of history and myth.8 Enargeia, meaning vividness in representation, or evidentia, vividness,<sup>9</sup> were Livy's central representational goal.

We cannot turn to Livy's treatment of naming the divine without acknowledging that Livy, despite his geographical and social distance to most of the Roman actors he portrayed, had astonishing insights; insights that one might refer to the fields of psychology, social science and economics, but which can always be traced back to insights into basic psychological mechanisms, that is, into how human beings function. One example is how he observed and reflected on price increases in crisis situations: Whenever international relations worsened, prices went up, he noticed, even though antiquity and Livy, too, had no knowledge of market theories where prices are understood to be the result of supply and demand; prices were rather assumed to be a given. In such situations, too, the number of observations regarding signs, prodigies, omina, went up. This, again, is an observation that is not made by a critic of religion, but by a Livy who concluded his preface with the invocation of gods and who also repeatedly made it clear that he felt quite at home in traditional religion, in traditional cults. Nevertheless, Livy analysed religion. From a psychological perspective, he repeatedly showed how religion is subject to manipulation attempts and can also be successfully used to manipulate soldiers and civilians.

# 3 Naming the Divine

Subsequently, how are practices of naming addressees in communication with the divine represented in such a text and in such perspectives? Clearly, Livy did not offer a theology or a philosophy of history that attributes substantial agency to divine powers.10 Nevertheless, religious practices and the divinities that are addressed and attributed agency in said practices make up important elements of Roman traditions, institutions and political procedures. Accordingly, they loom large in narratives of Roman history, in

Mineo 2010; Khariouzov 2013; cf. Ortoleva 2019 for less dramatized daily myth as a widespread communicative tool.

See ibid.

Cf. Stübler 1941; Walsh 1961; Liou-Gille 1998.

Republican and later accounts as much as in Livy himself. Livy is a reflective observer of the technicalities but above all of the political importance and emotional implications of what we would summarise as "religion". <sup>11</sup> In such a role, religious rituals and gods have a substantial presence in his narrative.

Methodologically, I will start with the use of divine names and analyse their forms and modes of employment. Against the background of a general attempt to better understand ancient polytheism, I am particularly interested in the strategies for individualising the divine and will contrast that with collectivising practices of naming.

#### 3.1 Individual Deities

I will start with a simple case, Mercurius.12 This name is used six times in the extant books 1–10 and 22–45. The dedication of a temple (aedes) to him in Rome is mentioned in 2.21.7; this action is again referred to in 2.27.5, depicting a competition between the two ruling consuls as to who should perform the dedication. The Senate delegates the decision about the issue to the people, connecting the role of dedication with the administration of the grain distribution (annona) and the foundation of a guild of merchants (mercatorum collegium) and organisation of the whole ritual, instead of to a pontifex, typically employed as master of such ceremonies. Later, a "hump which they call 'that of Mercury'" (tumulum quem Mercuri uocant) is mentioned as the aim of a movement by Scipio during the assault on Carthage (26.44.6), evidently thus referring to a Punic deity. Apart from that, the name is only used to refer to an individualised divine figure twice more. In both cases, it is in the description of a lectisternium, a banquet for several, in the second instance, twelve gods represented in the form of busts (this information is given by Livy only in 40.59.7), narrated in 5.13.6 (399 BCE) as well as 22.10.9 (217 BCE). Both passages are prominent due to the names of the gods all listed in each instance as recipients of cult. This is the first one:

Duumuiri sacris faciundis, lectisternio tunc primum in urbe Romana facto, per dies octo Apollinem Latonamque et Dianam, Herculem, Mercurium atque Neptunum tribus quam amplissime tum apparari poterat stratis lectis placauere (5.13.6).

In the form of the first 'Lectisternium' ever at Rome, the Two-men for rituals appeased Apollo and Latona and Diana, Hercules, Mercury and Neptune on three couches as luxurious as could be provided for in those days, for eight days in a row.

It is the specialists on foreign cults that are prominent in this instance. They react after the Senate has ordered them to inspect the verses of the "Sibylline books" to find a rit-

See Scheid 2015; for the concept of religion employed here, see Rüpke 2021; Rüpke 2007.

On the contemporary images associated with that name in Italy, Combet-Farnoux 1980; Combet Farnoux 1981; Miller 1991; MacRae 2019.

ual solution to an ongoing epidemic connected to a heat wave (5.13.4–5) that Livy describes as being caused by an imbalanced, "excessive" climate or "some other reason" – the historiographer offers a rationalist explanation on the same footing as less transparent ones. The ritual is described in a summarily manner but leaving space for historical imagination without supplying anachronistic details: The busts (these details must be provided by the readers, relying on their own knowledge) are placed "on three couches as luxurious as possible in those days". The six gods placed in pairs clearly indicated by a -que, an asyndeton after et and a pair connected by atque are all addressed by name tags of one element each without any indication of the provenance of the busts or connection to temples. The opening triad, headed by Apollo who had already been introduced as a deity related to pestilences (4.25.3), clearly referred to genealogical connections known to contemporary readers (but hardly any fourth-century Roman ones) from Greek mythology as reflected in late Republican and Augustan cult.13 In contrast to the version given in the slightly later text by Dionysios of Halikarnassos but representing the earlier version of L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi's annals from the last third of the second century BCE, where the second couch is occupied by Herakles and Artemis, Livy inverts the sequence and creates two triads rather than three pairs.

The reader is left to speculate on the relations of the remaining gods. Hercules had been presented as an important figure in early Roman history (the killer of the cattle thief, Geryon) and a figure of Greek-style ritual at the beginning of book 1 (1.7.3–7). Mercurius had been introduced before, as indicated above, as referring to divine power related to merchants (2.27.5) but is now somehow drawn into a Greek context, perhaps suggesting a Hermes. In the same vein, Neptunus might also be intended to be read as Poseidon rather than as an abbreviation of the Neptunus Equestris given that the festival of Consualia already existed in the time of Romulus (1.9.2). Livy shortens the account of Piso when reporting on the private forms of the same celebration but adds a theological reason for the loosening of chains, namely that there was a scruple (religioni deinde fuisse) surrounding keeping that person in chains to whom the gods brought help (quibus eam opem di tulissent, 5.13.7–8). Here, Livy switches to the generic terms of religio and di. Subsequently, this extended and farreaching ritual was repeated several times. Counting the cases, Livy names the third to fifth occasions (7.2.2 for 364, 7.27.1 for 349, and 8.25.1 for 326), implying on the last occasion that the divine name and probably also the ritual procedures used remained the same (iisdem quibus ante placandis).

When the ritual is named again after the lacuna of books 11–20, the number of names and bust employed had been extended, the period shortened:

Tum lectisternium per triduum habitum decemuiris sacrorum curantibus: sex puluinaria in conspectu fuerunt, Ioui ac Iunoni unum, alterum Neptuno ac Mineruae, tertium Marti ac Veneri, quartum Apollini ac Dianae, quintum Volcano ac Vestae, sextum Mercurio et Cereri (22.10.9).

Latte 1960, 242–3, referring to Plin. Nat. 36.34 and CIL 6.32.

Then a Lectisternium for three days was held, organised by the Ten-men for rituals: six cushioned couches were in full sight, for Iuppiter and Iuno one, another for Neptune and Minerva, a third for Mars and Venus, a fourth for Apollo and Diana, a fifth for Volcanus and Vesta, a sixth for Mercury and Ceres.

As in Livy's earlier source, Piso, the couches are numbered. Thus, six pairs of a male and a female name are generated. Again, all the names are tags of a single element each and contain no further topographical indication. Diana, for instance, is included again. Cult to a deity including that theonym had been mentioned before only once, in 1.45.2–7, an aetiology of the sanctuary of the federal deity of the Latins being placed at Rome and hence acknowledging the hegemonic position of that city:14

iam tum erat inclitum Dianae Ephesiae fanum; id communiter a ciuitatibus Asiae factum fama ferebat. eum consensum deosque consociatos laudare mire Seruius inter proceres Latinorum, cum quibus publice priuatimque hospitia amicitiasque de industria iunxerat. saepe iterando eadem perpulit tandem, ut Romae fanum Dianae populi Latini cum populo Romano facerent.

(3) ea erat confessio caput rerum Romam esse, de quo totiens armis certatum fuerat. id quamquam omissum iam ex omnium cura Latinorum ob rem totiens infeliciter temptatam armis uidebatur, uni se ex Sabinis fors dare uisa est priuato consilio imperii reciperandi. (4) bos in Sabinis nata cuidam patri familiae dicitur miranda magnitudine ac specie; fixa per multas aetates cornua in uestibulo templi Dianae monumentum ei fuere miraculo. (5) habita, ut erat, res prodigii loco est, et cecinere uates cuius ciuitatis eam ciuis Dianae immolasset, ibi fore imperium; (6) idque carmen peruenerat ad antistitem fani Dianae Sabinusque ut prima apta dies sacrificio uisa est, bouem Romam actam deducit ad fanum Dianae et ante aram statuit. ibi antistes Romanus, cum eum magnitudo uictimae celebrata fama mouisset, memor responsi Sabinum ita adloquitur: "quidnam tu, hospes, paras?" inquit, "inceste sacrificium Dianae facere? quin tu ante uiuo perfunderis flumine? infima ualle praefluit Tiberis." (7) religione tactus hospes, qui omnia, ut prodigio responderet euentus, cuperet rite facta, extemplo descendit ad Tiberim; interea Romanus immolat Dianae bouem. id mire gratum regi atque ciuitati fuit.

Already in those days the sanctuary for the Ephesian Diana was famous; it was thought to be jointly constructed by the polities of Asia. This unanimity and the combining of the gods was in a remarkable manner commended by Servius in front of the leading heads of the Latins, with whom he had assiduously formed an alliance in public and private forms of mutual hospitality and friendship. By frequent repetition of this discourse he finally reached that at Rome a sanctuary of Diana was realized by the Latin tribes together with the Roman people.

(3) It was generally admitted that Rome was the hegemon, a role about which so many times had been fought with arms. This seemed to have been stopped already by the zeal of all Latins as the issue has been so often vainly tried by arms; yet an individual from the Sabines was of the opinion that good fortune was offering herself to him in a private plan to recover domination. (4) A cow was born to some head of family in Sabine territory, it is said, of amazing size and shape (for long years the horns of that animal were fixed in the forecourt of the temple of Diana and served as a monument to that miracle). (5) The matter was taken, what in fact it was, as a prodigy and the soothsayers sang that with that polity of whom a citizen would ritually slaughter her to Diana domination would rest. (6) And the text of this prophecy had also reached the person responsible for the sanctuary of Diana. And the (abovementioned) Sabine when the first day suit-

On Diana and Diana Nemorensis, see Pairault 1969; Grazia/Cecere 2001; Green 2007.

able for a sacrifice appeared led the cow, which he had driven to Rome, to the sanctuary of Diana and presented it in front of the altar. There, the responsible, a Roman, as the size of the victim, praised by the rumour, had affected him, now remembering the prophetic saying, addressed the Sabine as follows: "What, tell me, are you preparing for, visitor? To perform a sacrifice to Diana in unclean state? Why not bath in the living water before? At the bottom of the valley the Tiber flows by." (7) Impelled by the religious scruple, the visitor, who wanted to do everything in the correct way, so that the outcome corresponded to the prodigy, immediately descended to the Tiber; meanwhile the Roman ritually slaughtered the cow to Diana. That was in a remarkable manner welcome to the king and the polity.

The naming, marked in the quotations, brings together toponyms, theonyms and sanctuaries. Only within such a clearly defined context could rituals addressed to the deity be described by the isolated tag Diana. A further temple is mentioned in 39.2.8: aedem Dianae uouit ("he vowed a temple to Diana"); all other references (13) refer to the aedes Dianae as a spatial reference; twice, a festival (diem festum, sacrum anniversarium) is mentioned, once for Rome (25.13.14) and once for Eretria (35.38.3). A passage in 10.27.9 is best understood in a metonymic sense (hunting).

Volcanus figures only in one of the Lectisternia (22.10.9); thrice he is mentioned as a recipient of a vow (1.37.5; 8.10.13; 23.46.5 in 215 BCE), apart from that his name is part of a toponym.15 The short notices about the vows are worth looking at in some detail. In the first instance, Livy reports the burning of arms after a victory and comments in parenthesis: id uotum Volcano erat, "this was a promised gift for Volcanus" (as I have shown elsewhere, the use of the concept of "vow" is anachronistic for the early and middle republican period and even more so for the regal period narrated here16). In the next instance, the famous se deuouere ("devote himself") of the M. Decius Mus, it is again arms on the topographically underdefined battlefield that are considered objects of a vow: Volcano arma siue cui alii diuo uovere volet ius est ("has the right to dedicate his arms to Vulcan, or to any other god he likes", <sup>17</sup> 8.10.13). This is bordering on a metonymic use similar to the previous one: It is fine to either burn the weapons or display them as war trophies in whatever sanctuary. Marcellus makes the choice in 23.46.5 (spolia hostium Marcellus Volcano uotum creamuit – "Marcellus burnt the spoils taken from the enemies as a promised gift to Volcanus") and by Scipio in 30.6.9 (. . . magna uis armorum capta; ea omnia imperator Volcano sacrata incendit – ". . . a large amount of weapons was seized; the general alighted them all as consecrated to Volcanus"). At the temple on the Campus Martius, a statue is mentioned as the place of prodigies (24.10.9; 32.29.1; 34.45.6) without any further elaboration.

E.g., 9.46.6 area Volcani, 24.10.9: the temple on the Campus Martius. On the figure and the volcanal in the Roman forum, Capdeville 1995; Carafa 2005.

Rüpke 2018b.

Transl. B.O. Foster (LCL).

Such a pattern is repeated on a slightly larger scale for Venus.<sup>18</sup> Usually, she is mentioned as part of the name tag of a temple (e.g. 10.31.9, prope Circum, "near the Circus"), the Sicilian Venus Erycina being most prominent (six times); three times she figures as a metaphor for sex as an ethnic characterisation. Such metaphorical prominence is shared with Mars, appearing thirteen times standing for "luck in war" or "fight between both parties". <sup>19</sup> In the genitive, he nearly always refers to a statue or temple, providing precise locations in eleven of twelve instances. As a recipient of ritual or cultic institutions in the dative, he is mentioned for receiving a priest of his own (1.20.2), twelve Salian priests (dancers, 1.20.4: for Mars Gradivus),<sup>20</sup> a vow (22.9.9), a complex sacrifice (suovetaurilium, 8.10.14) or – again – a lectisternium (as part of the list of twelve). Against this background, it is worth noting that name tags including Mars are used as addressees in prayers three times and always in a name made up of two elements, namely, twice for Mars Pater, once for Mars Gradivus (3.61.5 in indirect speech; 5.52.7 and 8.9.6 in direct). In the last instance, Mars Pater figures in one of the few long lists of deities opening a speech, or more precisely a prayer in direct speech, behind Ianus and Iuppiter and before Quirinus, Bellona, Lares, Divi Novensiles, Di Indigetes, and the even more vague Diui quorum est potestas nostrorum hostiumque ("gods in whose power are both we and the enemies" 21) and Di Manes, a list uttered by the consul Decius immediately before his famous military self-sacrifice, imploring the gods to help him to "vow himself down" to the Deified dead (dis manibus) and Tellur (8.9.4–10), an incidence dated by Livy to 340 BCE, but an antiquarian invention in all its details:<sup>22</sup>

In hac trepidatione Decius consul M. Valerium magna uoce inclamat. "deorum" inquit, "ope, M. Valeri, opus est; agedum, pontifex publicus populi Romani, praei uerba quibus me pro legionibus deuoueam." (5) pontifex eum togam praetextam sumere iussit et uelato capite, manu subter togam ad mentum exserta, super telum subiectum pedibus stantem sic dicere: (6) "Iane, Iuppiter, Mars Pater, Quirine, Bellona, Lares, Diui Nouensiles, Di Indigetes, Diui, quorum est potestas nostrorum hostiumque, (7) Dique Manes, uos precor ueneror, ueniam peto feroque, uti populo Romano Quiritium uim uictoriam prosperetis hostesque populi Romani Quiritium terrore formidine morteque adficiatis. (8) sicut uerbis nuncupaui, ita pro re publica Quiritium, exercitu, legionibus, auxiliis populi Romani Quiritium, legiones auxiliaque hostium mecum Deis Manibus Tellurique deuoueo." haec ita precatus lictores ire ad T. Manlium iubet matureque collegae se deuotum pro exercitu nuntiare; (9) ipse incinctus cinctu Gabino, armatus in equum insiluit ac se in medios hostes immisit, (10) conspectus ab utraque acie, aliquanto augustior humano uisu, sicut caelo missus piaculum omnis deorum irae qui pestem ab suis auersam in hostes ferret.

On the Roman deity, Schilling 1954; Castelli 1988; Elm von der Osten 2007.

In general, Arnold 1950; Petruševski 1967; Scholz 1970; Croon 1981; Hobbold 1995.

For further details, see Guittard 2008.

Transl. O.B. Foster (LCL), modified.

See Guittard 1988; Rüpke 2019, 157–162. Cf. on the formation of the tradition also Jocelyn 2000.

Amid this perturbation the consul Decius called upon Marcus Valerius in a loud voice: "We need the help of the gods, Marcus Valerius. Come, public pontiff of the Roman people, recite the formula with which I can dedicate myself instead of the legions!" (5) The pontiff ordered him to put on his purple-broidered toga and to speak thus, with the head veiled and the hand extended to the chin below the toga and standing on a spear with his feet: "(6) "Ianus, Iuppiter, Mars Pater, Quirinus, Bellona, Lares, Divi Novensiles, Di Indigetes, Gods who you are commanding ourselves and our enemies, (7) ancestral gods, all of you I implore, solicit, and ask for the favour and bring the entitlement for that favour that you further the power and victory of the Roman people of Quirites and affect the enemies of the Roman people of Quirites by fear, horror and death. (8) As I put it literally, so for the commonweal of the Quirites, the army, legions, and the auxiliaries of the Roman people of Quirites, I devote the legions and auxiliaries of the enemies together with me to the ancestral gods and the Goddess Earth." Thus spoken, he ordered the lictors to go to Titus Manlius in order to quickly inform his colleague that he has dedicated himself for the sake of the army. (9) He himself girded himself in Gabine fashion [that is, gathering his garment], jumped in full armour onto his horse and threw himself into the centre of the enemies: (10) in full sight of both battle lines, somewhat more majestic than a human figure, like an atonement sent from heaven of all the wrath of the gods that carried the destruction averted from his own fellows onto the enemies.

This is the longest list of gods presented by Livy as part of a prayer. Praying people, politicians and generals in particular – Livy is fully realising the impact of religious performances by military leaders on their audiences and subsequently their career<sup>23</sup> –, are all part of Livy's narrative but their reported prayers rarely include long lists of the deities implored. Such addresses are introduced by precor eleven times, a few of them turning to (situationally) superior humans. Among the divinities addressed, we find: Tiberinus Pater (2.10.11); Pythian Apollo and Iuno Regina (5.21.3; see also 23.11.3; 29.10.6); Ceres Mater and Proserpina and the other local "celestial and infernal deities", ceteri superi infernique di at Sicilian Henna, recalling the pair from Eleusis (24.38.8). Scipio calls upon "gods and goddesses who care for the seas and lands", divi divaeque qui maria terrasque colitis (29.27.2), clearly thinking of a Roman empire that now, in 204 BCE, includes vast parts of the Mediterranean Sea in addition to the coastal countries around it. The same Scipio addressed just deos ("gods") earlier (28.36.6.), similar to Spurius Postumius calling upon di immortales ("immortal gods", 9.8.8) in 320 BCE. Attention must be directed to such collectives, too. Admittedly, I have left out several important deities, among them Iuppiter and Apollo, in the various tags including them that feature around 75 and 25 times.<sup>24</sup> In both cases, around half of all instances refer to these deities' temples (and occasionally statues); festivals as temporal determinations even accrue, in particular for the "games of Apollo". It is telling that the two instances in which Apollo figures in a triadic list with other likewise named deities in one-element tags, refer to rituals situated either in Greece

A detailed analysis in Albrecht 2020. On Roman prayer in general Chapot/Laurot 2001; Cottier 2006; Scheid 2007; Scheid 2008; Patzelt 2018.

Cf. for the importance of Apollo, Mineo 2013.

(Achaia in 32.25.5: Iuppiter, Apollo, Hercules) or derived from the Sibylline Books consisting of Greek verses and "foreign" rituals (40.37.2: Apollo, Aesculapius, Salus).

These data do not change the image obtained so far. In direct speech, the divine addressees typically carry a tag made up of two elements. Such two-element tags are even more frequently used as toponyms, now typically combing a theonym and a generic term of a sacralised place, mostly aedes or fanum. Occasionally, when speaking about a place outside of Rome, a three-element toponym might also include the name of a city, the sanctuary of Diana at Ephesus or of Diana at Rome being examples. Otherwise, simple theonyms are frequently used in the sense of general and geographically unspecified forces, ubiquitously at work: War, Erotic, Fire.

#### 3.2 Collectives

The collective "gods" – typically dei respectively di, only rarely divi, and occasionally gendered as di deaeque ("gods and goddesses", e.g., 3.17.3; 6.16.2) or divi divaeque ("divine ones of both sexes", 23.11.1; 29.27.1)25 – figure prominently, about 300 times in the extant books. If we set aside the mentioning of specific temples, Livy has the narrator, and even more so his protagonists, speaking in direct or indirect speech referring to and directly hailing the divine in the plural collective form. The very few instances of Di Manes (e.g., 10.29.4) or Di Penates (e.g., 1.1.9; 1.47.4; 5.30.6) – special types of divine powers addressed in plural form – do not challenge the general findings.

Against the background of the use of individual names sketched above, it is noteworthy that there are only very few instances in which the plural d(e)i is used as an obvious shorthand for a longer list of individual names or an attempt to deal with identification issues. Such is clearly the case when the creation of individual rituals and priesthoods by Numa is reported, who acted on the advice of Egeria: eius se monitu quae acceptissima dis essent sacra instituere, sacerdotes suos cuique deorum praeficere ("on her advice he would establish those rituals that are the most welcome to the divinities and install individual priests to every single god", 1.19.5). In further instances, the use of a partitive genitive deorum suggests that one out of a group of individualised agents is envisaged (1.55.4; 3.25.8; 5.11.14; 8.30.9; 10.13.6; 23.9.3). Rituals like the lectisternia and their literary representation in the form of a list support such images.<sup>26</sup> The rarely used gendered pairing of "gods and goddesses" (references are given above) could have worked on comparable lines. Likewise, multa deorum mentio

On the phenomenon of gender uncertainty, see Galoppin/Grand-Clément/Bonnet 2021.

Cf. also the earthquake during such an event, 40.59.7: terra mouit; in fanis publicis, ubi lectisternium erat, deorum capita, quae in lectis erant, auerterunt se, lanxque cum integumentis, quae Ioui apposita fuit, decidit de mensa ("the earth trembled; in the public shrines where the lectisternia was held, the busts of the gods, that were positioned on couches, turned around, and the covered bowl that was put in front of Iuppiter fell down from the table"). For lectisternia, Berg 2008; Estienne 2011.

("frequent mentioning of the gods", 5.30.7) might suggest a similar imagination, yet as a shorthand for cult in general it might also just point to multiple occasions of addressing the collective divine. Without a doubt, investing in religion requires practices of individualisation, as exemplified in 41.20.8–9 by Seleucid Antiochus (addressing such individualised gods in his own speech with two-element names respectively speaking about three-element toponyms):

Magnificentiae uero in deos uel Iouis Olympii templum Athenis, unum in terris incohatum pro magnitudine dei, potest <testis> esse; (9) sed et Delum aris insignibus statuarumque copia exornauit, et Antiochiae Iouis Capitolini magnificum templum, non laqueatum auro tantum, sed parietibus totis lammina inauratum, et alia multa in aliis locis pollicitus, quia perbreue tempus regni eius fuit, non perfecit.<sup>27</sup>

Of his generosity towards the gods the temple of Iuppiter Olympius at Athens, if you like, might give testimony, the only one on earth started to be built in proportion to the size of the god. (9) But [to turn to projects completed] he ornated Delos with noteworthy altars and a lot of statues and at Antiochia a wonderful temple for Iuppiter Capitolinus, of which not only the ceiling but also all walls were covered with sheets of gold; and much else in other places he promised but could not finish because the duration of his reign was very short.

Evidently, the synecdochical use of "gods" for statues invokes a similar set of individual elements (e.g. 6.41.9; 26.39.9; 34.4.4; 38.43.5; 45.27.11; perhaps also in 5.11.16: deos ipsos admouere . . . manus, "the gods themselves . . . brought their arms closer"). The same is clearly not the case when groups of gods conceptualised along local, political or ethnic lines are spoken about (in fact, they are never addressed as such). This is mostly concentrated in the narrative about the Romans' idea to transfer their whole urban society and their gods to neighbouring Veii after the Gallic sack in book 5: Can one say farewell to the "Roman" or "the public and private" gods (5.52.3, 4)?<sup>28</sup> But speakers might also address human audiences and refer to "your" gods (29.18.2; 45.22.1) or to deos patrios ("the paternal gods", 1.25.1) in other contexts, thus marking differences of We and the Other in situations of conflict (cf. also 1.31.3).

In the overwhelming majority of cases, the use of the plural works very differently. The gods are seen as a coherent agent, hardly ever stressing that this is about "all" the gods (thus as indirect speech in 27.45.8). This is rarely as explicitly conceptualised as in the phrase of the magnum deorum numen ("the mighty will of the gods", 1.23.4; see 7.26.3; 8.32.7; 10.36.12; 39.16.7). Typically, it is simply the undifferentiated "care", "concern", "providence", "benevolence", "might", or even "eyes" of the gods or their performing of these abstract services, helping, occasionally also with the negative connotation of wrath or wavering support (e.g. 7.3.2).29 Thus, Camillus encourages his people: Iam uerterat for-

Cf. the preceding summary expression . . . in urbium donis et deorum cultu (". . . by gifts for cities and the veneration of gods", 41.20.5).

For the background rivalry, Hubaux 1958; Massa-Pairault 1986; Guittard 1989; Cancik 1995.

It should be noted that ira and pax are very rare.

tuna, iam deorum opes humanaque consilia rem Romanam adiuuabant ("Luck had already changed, the support of the gods and human plans are already supporting the Roman cause", 5.49.5). Dis iuvantibus ("while the gods were supportive", e.g. 35.32.10) is a phrase Livy uses throughout his narrative into the second century BCE.

Formulations such as these account for nearly a third of all instances. Correspondingly, it is this undifferentiated plural that is employed for activities on the human side, addressing the divine in the form of prayer, asking for advice or pleas (consulere, precare, rogare, vovere, vota solvere, placare, vereri) and the abstracts based on that (cultus, preces, templa, but also negative actions and emotions like neglegentia, metus, allere, spernere, timere). Sometimes, the expression "to stretch out the hands" (manus tendere, e.g. 6.20.10; 25.1.7; 35.31.13) gives graphic content to the rather abstract wording. Together with the ritual action of invoking gods as witnesses, these phrases also account for nearly a third of all instances.

The indifferent summing up of divine power(s) is naturalised in a surprising way. In about 45 instances, it is not gods acting upon humans or humans acting upon gods, but the parallel pairing of both, "gods and humans" (deorum hominumque, etc.), which figures in the text. Typically, it is misconduct judged to be directed at both groups and thus ostracising individuals or groups that are in the background of such phrases.

### 4 Conclusion

The polytheism displayed and performed in Livy's text is presupposing and reinforcing, never problematising or questioning a plurality of divinities. Yet, it is not a "system", a pantheon organised along the lines of a division of labour, that is narrated here.<sup>30</sup> Rarely, if ever, does misidentification or a faulty selection of the addressee loom around the corner. It is at the very margins of the system, in the case of international treaties, twice bringing together groups of partial divinities, that problems are acknowledged by Livy's protagonists. It is Hasdrubal who, upon the defeat of Carthage, deplores that fact in indirect speech, turning into direct speech immediately afterwards (30.42.19–20):

Urbem quoque ipsam ac penates ita habituros si non in ea quoque, quo nihil ulterius sit, saeuire populus Romanus uelit. (20) cum flecti misericordia patres appareret, senatorum unum infestum perfidiae Carthaginiensium succlamasse ferunt per quos deos foedus icturi essent cum eos per quos ante ictum esset fefellissent.

Even the city itself and the household deities will they keep with the reservation that the Roman people does not wish to rage against that beyond which they do not have anything. (20) When pity seemed to move the first row of the senate, one of the senators is reported to have shouted

On the notion of pantheon, see Rüpke 2003; Rüpke 2018a. For a different view, see Prescendi 2022.

in reaction to the falsehood of the Carthaginians, by appeal to which deities would they conclude a treaty when they had cheated on those by appeal to which they had previously agreed.

It is not metaphysics, but rather human action in space and time that engages the divine with said space and time. Temples, altars, groves, occasionally priesthoods and holidays, are given to individual gods, or even more precisely: individualise the divine. Their spatial (but also temporal) "fix" <sup>31</sup> constitutes the gods themselves and maps them within cities and across the Mediterranean world; topographical adjectives figure prominently here as they do in the Greek and Semitic inscriptions analysed by "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms". <sup>32</sup> Such spatial individualisation finds its linguistic expression in two-element tags on the model of aedes Apollinis. It is also normally two-element tags that are used to address individualised gods in direct (and often also in reported) speech: Apollo Pythicus. Only when the probability of misidentification is high are the two strategies combined to form three-element tags serving as toponyms: aedes Iunonis Reginae. I suggest that it is this spatial and material ontology of individualised deities that limits the use of one-element tags when naming gods in ritual language as reported or imitated by Livy. I feel confident in claiming that his is a linguistic reality beyond that specific author, who is in the privileged position of being an educated, sympathetic but also external observer of Roman religious affairs and its Latin language components.

This, however, has consequences. The relationship between Iuno and Iuno Regina or Mars and Mars Gradivus is neither that of short and full name nor of genus and species. It is – in Livy perhaps with the single exception of Iuppiter, the supreme political and monopolistic philosophical god, anyway – the relationship between some loosely specified form of super-human agency that is barely distinguishable in its religious and metaphorical usage (hence, we had better do away with the very distinction, a production of subsequent systematisations and a persistent false interpretation of ancient worldviews) on the one hand and a situationally, historically and topographically materialised deity on the other hand. The rhetorical figure of congeries, the "heaping" of one-element theonyms, is present in ritual practice, yet, it is marked out as "foreign" or "Greek". This includes both the notion of prestigious as well as that of conceptually difficult. As a result, neither Livy, nor us for that matter, can be sure to what extent it was meant to be a very graphic construction of specific (and hence especially powerful) divine compounds or rather an ordered system following some in-transparent logic. The very use of busts, that is, parts of fragmented bodies, might have pointed to the first interpretation.

Unlike the authors of this volume, Livy was not interested in analysing such conceptual connections, even though he did sketch out some of the underlying material

On this notion, see Urciuoli 2022, in general Herod 2019.

See Galoppin/Bonnet 2021 and Galoppin et al. (eds.) 2022, 1–723 (= vol. 1), in particular Bonnet 2022, 100–101.

history. Yet, these concepts provided a substantial part of the map onto which his narrative was projected. Surprisingly, however, the localised and materialised gods are only very loosely – by rare rituals and even more occasionally, self-afflicted prodigies33 – connected to the divine sphere invoked, operated, and hence constituted by Livy's protagonists. As political actors and, above all, as speakers, they perform "gods" and appropriate "cult" in a summarised form that provides a background and justification for all the religious investment reported for the republican history and witnessed by Livy's Augustanperiod audience (and later generations, too). "Religion" (in our sense) is about the collective divine, the "gods". Naming is a second-order activity, left to religious specialists and people demonstrating religious competence in their textual and visual choices when bringing the divine into human business, when "doing religion".

Let me stress again, Livy is only a case study. My initial impression is that things are similar in Cicero. However, it would be difficult to argue for a wide generalisation, even on that basis. But this is not my aim here anyway. In the comparative enterprise of this volume, it is more important to register the range of cultural possibilities and transform it into questions for other corpora.

### Bibliography

Ahn, Gregor (1993), "Monotheismus'–'Polytheismus': Grenzen und Möglichkeiten einer Klassifikation von Gottesvorstellungen", in: Manfried Dietrich / Oswald Loretz (eds.), Mesopotamica – Ugaritica – Biblica. Festschrift für Kurt Bergerhof zur Vollendung seines 70. Lebensjahres am 7. Mai 1992 (Alter Orient und Altes Testament 232), Kevelaer, 1–24.

Albrecht, Janico (2020), Die Religion der Feldherren. Vermittlung und Inszenierung des Krieges in der späten römischen Republik (Schriften zur Alten Geschichte), Berlin.

Arnold, Paul (1950), "Le mythe de Mars", in: Cahiers du Sud 37, 93–108.

Barbera, Giuseppe / Contessa, Ilenia / Barbera, Gianfranco (2021), Pietas. An Introduction to Roman Traditionalism (Second edition), Wilmington.


See Clark 2007.

Bonnet, Corinne et al. (2019), "Mapping Ancient Gods: Naming and Embodiment Beyond 'Anthropomorphism'. A Survey of the Field in Echo to the Books of M.S. Smith and R. Parker", in: Mediterranean Historical Review 34, 2, 207–220. doi: 10.1080/09518967.2019.1664524.

Bonnet, Corinne et al. (eds.) (2017), Puissances divines à l'épreuve du comparatisme: constructions, variations et réseaux relationnels (Bibliothèque de l'École des Hautes Études, Sciences Religieuses 175), Turnhout.

Brelich, Angelo (1960), "Der Polytheismus", in: Numen 7, 123–136.

Cancik, Hubert (1995), "Militia perennis: Typologie und Theologie der Kriege Roms gegen Veji bei T. Livius", in: Heinrich von Stietencron / Jörg Rüpke (eds.), Töten im Krieg, Freiburg, 197–212.


Clark, Anna J. (2007), Divine Qualities. Cult and Community in Republican Rome, Oxford et al.

Combet Farnoux, B. (1981), "Mercure romain, les 'Mercuriales' et l'institution du culte impérial sous le Principat augustéen", in: Wolfgang Haase (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt (ANRW) 17, 1, Berlin / Boston, 457–501.

Combet-Farnoux, Bernard (1980), Mercure Romain. Le culte public de Mercure et la fonction mercantile à Rome, de la Répubique archaïque à l'époque augustéenne (Bibliothèque des Écoles française d'Athènes et de Rome 238), Rome.

Cottier, Jean-François (2006), La prière en latin de l'Antiquité au XVIe siècle. Formes, évolutions, significations (Collection d'études médiévales de Nice, 6), Turnhout.

Croon, Johan H. (1981), "Die Ideologie des Marskultes unter dem Prinzipat und ihre Vorgeschichte", in: Wolfgang Haase (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt (ANRW) 17, 1, Berlin / Boston, 246–275.


Galoppin, Thomas / Bonnet, Corinne (eds.) (2021), Divine Names on the Spot. Towards a Dynamic Approach of Divine Denominations in Greek and Semitic contexts (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 293), Leuven.

Galoppin, Thomas et al. (eds.) (2022), Naming and Mapping the Gods in the Ancient Mediterranean, Berlin / Boston. doi: 10.1515/9783110798432.

Gladigow, Burkhard (1998), "Polytheismen der Neuzeit", in: Bärbel Köhler (ed.), Religion und Wahrheit. Religionsgeschichtliche Studien. Festschrift für Gernot Wießner zum 65. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden, 45–59.

Gladigow, Burkhard (2002), "Polytheismus und Monotheismus – Zur historischen Dynamik einer europäischen Alternative", in: Manfred Krebernik / Jürgen van Oorschot (eds.), Polytheismus und Monotheismus in der Religionen des Vorderen Orients (Alter Orient und Altes Testament 298), Münster, 3–20.

Grandazzi, Alexandre (1997), The foundation of Rome, Myth and History, Ithaca.

Grazia, Maria / Cecere, Granino (2001), "A nemi una Diana non nemorense", in: Mitteilungen des deutschen archäologischen Instituts. Römische Abteilung 108, 287–292.

Green, C.M.C. (2007), Roman Religion and the Cult of Diana at Aricia, Cambridge.


Guittard, Charles (2008), "« La lance » ou « les lances » de Mars?", in: Guillaume Bonnet (ed.), Dix siècles de religion romaine. À la recherche d'une intériorisation? Hommage à Nicole Boëls, Dijon, 76–92.

Herod, Andrew (2019), "Spatial Fix", in: Anthony Orum (ed.), Wiley Blackwell Encyclopedia of Urban and Regional Studies, Philadelphia. doi: 10.1002/9781118568446.eurs0309.

Hobbold, Susanne (1995), Das Bild des Mars. Untersuchung zum römischen Kriegsgott, PhD thesis, Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität Bonn, Bonn.


Scholz, Udo W. (1970), Studien zum altitalischen und altrömischen Marskult und Marsmythos, Heidelberg. Stübler, Gerhard (1941), Die Religiösität des Livius (Tübinger Beiträge zur Altertumswissenschaft 35),


Part 2: One and Many: Onomastic Bricolage

# Sylvain Lebreton and Christophe Nihan Introduction

When dealing with divine onomastics, the problem of the relationship between monomyny and polyonymy as well as its implications on the broader issue of the unity and diversity of the divine – labelled here as the "One and Many" issue – appears to be a passage obligé, since names are, along with images, one of the most direct ways to address this question. Given that polyonymy is a usual feature of ancient deities, an obvious dialectic emerges: does a god have unicity despite his polyonymy on the one hand, and is there divine diversity despite onomastic similarity or equivalence on the other? And subsequently: how did ancient people cope with these issues?

Coping with the gods is precisely the title of Henk Versnel's 2011 monograph – an important, albeit provocative, milestone in the One and Many controversy. In this book, in the continuity of his previous works, Versnel advocates the inconsistency of ancient Greek religion by emphasising the contradictions between different figures of the same deity. Among other examples, he evokes the paradigmatic case of the three Zeuses in Xenophon's Anabasis, in which the Athenian author and protagonist is protected by Zeus Basileus (King) and by Zeus Soter (Saviour), but has Zeus Meilichios (The-mild-one) against him. It is thus striking that Jean-Pierre Vernant, in the mid-1960s, used precisely the same case study to introduce his concept of puissance divine which Versnel explicitly intends to counteract.<sup>1</sup> This is perhaps the reason why the One and Many debate remains so tenaciously controversial: being a very theoretical issue, it is highly sensitive to the ideological anchorage of scholars, be it conscious or not. If we move from theory to actual historical contexts, things start to look a bit different. Coping with the gods in ancient societies often implies the use of bricolage. This concept has of course been borrowed from La Pensée sauvage, in which Claude Lévi-Strauss defines this bricolage as the combination of real as well as virtual elements taken from a limited and heteroclite repertoire.<sup>2</sup> Following Lévi-Strauss, we understand, albeit in a broader sense, this bricolage as an invitation to see onomastic configurations as complex objects which cannot be understood without their contexts of use. This implies paying careful attention to their function in these contexts, without excluding the possibility of other levels of reference (history, literature, poetry, erudition . . .) or a certain diachronic complexity.

Among the many examples available, an inscription from 3rd century CE Bithynia shows how the articulation between unity and plurality could be expressed and how

Versnel 2011, 62–63. Vernant [1965] 1990, 363, note 23 and 1974, 110. See also Brulé 1998, 19; Parker 2003, 182; Pailler 2011. In fact, the articulation of Xenophon's three Zeuses is consistent if we take a closer look at the cultic as well as narrative framework in which they take place (Lebreton, forthcoming).

Lévi-Strauss 1962, esp. 26–32 for bricolage.

the One and Many dialectic was obviously not a problem in day-to-day cultural practice. This dedication from the region of Nikaia is addressed to Zeus Bronton (Thundering) and Zeus Karpodotes (Giver-of-fruit) and Zeus Eucharistos (Gracious) by a family group who go on to state that they erected the altar and a (single) bust for the god (ho theos).<sup>3</sup> Here, therefore, three functionally adjacent Zeuses are effortlessly merged into a single deity without any problem, obviously. Yet, in other documents, the articulation between the one and the many is not so fluid, as in the case of this 1st-century CE Athenian altar of Apollo with many epithets, namely Aguieus Prostaterios Patroos Puthios Klarios Panionios.4 Some of these onomastic attributes are functionally adjacent, thus understandable as a precise declination of the same function: Aguieus, "Ofthe-streets", that is to say at the doors, is the topic counterpart of the Prostaterios, "Who-stands-before", thus "Protector"; but others pertain to different "great" sanctuaries (Delphi and Klaros), and thus point to different Apollos. Yet all of them are associated with only one image, depicting the god standing and leaning his left hand on a cithara. Thus, one or many? That is a thousand-drachmae question.

Similar questions regarding the relations between the divine names associated with one deity have been asked from the perspective of Western Asian and Egyptian materials, most recently by scholars like Mark Smith, Spencer Allen, and others.5 We should note, however, that both the nature of the Western Asian sources and the methodological and epistemological coordinates of this discussion are clearly distinct. In particular, these studies should caution us against the notion that concepts of "polytheism" developed in the study of ancient Greek religion can be transposed straightforwardly to the Western Asian world. In many instances, we see tendencies at work that escape any simplistic division between "polytheism" and "monotheism", as Hornung, for instance, had already remarked in the case of ancient Egyptian religion. Nonetheless, taking this caveat into account, the phenomenon of divine polyonymy and the relation between one deity and its many names in the Western Asian world presents several features which encourage comparison with Greek and other Mediterranean evidence.

Thus, the One and Many issue can still be a relevant tool in order to investigate ancient conceptions of the divine. Several sub-issues are at stake: the question of shared and exclusive elements in onomastic sequences and the networks they create; the application of different elements to the same theonym; the combination of several theonyms in complex onomastic sequences; the use of the same onomastic element to identify gods distant in space or time; the articulation between "individualised" divine names and divine communities. And finally, the question of how to combine the emic

 IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 1764 = DB MAP S#5059: ἀγαθῆι [τύχηι] | Ἀπόλλωνος Ἀγυιέως Προστατηρί[ου] | Πατρῴου Πυθίου Κλαρίου Πανιωνίου. On the iconography, see Marcadé 1977, 403–406 and fig. 12–14.

I.Mus. Iznik 1085 (Yumaklı, 3rd c. CE) = DB MAP S#17187: Διὶ Βροντῶτι καὶ Δὶ Καρ|ποδότῃ καὶ Δὶ Εὐ| χαρίστῳ (l. 2–4); τὸν | βωμὸν σὺν τῇ προ|τομῇ εὐχῆς χάριν τῷ | θεῷ ἀνεστήσαμεν (l. 10–13).

Smith 2012; Smith 2016, 71–98; Allen 2015. For Egypt, see Hornung [1971] 20056 ; Assmann 1993.

and pragmatic local scale of actors practicing a specific cult, and our etic and overarching vision.

These and other related questions have been addressed in the four contributions within this section, by Spencer Allen, Herbert Niehr, Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge and Clarisse Prêtre. All four papers present case studies on the relationship between unicity and multiplicity in the representation of a given deity (set): the goddess Ishtar in Assyria (Spencer Allen); the god Hadad in Syria (Herbert Niehr); the goddess Demeter, especially under her name "Thesmophoros" (Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge), and the healing deities in Greece (Clarisse Prêtre). It becomes immediately obvious that there are important differences not only in the cultural contexts addressed, but also in the sources used and the types of deities discussed. Nonetheless, several converging trends do seem to emerge from these papers. We would like to point out four aspects in particular, although the list is certainly not exhaustive.

Firstly, all four papers highlight, albeit in different manners, the way in which the discussion on the relation between unicity and multiplicity in the use of divine names is inevitably framed by the evidence we possess. Niehr concludes his paper by emphasising that all the sources we have regarding the cult of Hadad in first-millennium Syria point either to the royal cult or the cult of local elites, whereas we know nothing about the worship of this god in other segments of the population. Somewhat similarly, Allen begins his paper by noting the importance of privileging what he calls "non-speculative" documents when attempting to understand the distinctive character of localised forms of the goddess Ishtar. Pirenne-Delforge, for her part, reflects on the methodological problems raised by using hexametric poetry when trying to reconstruct the names of the goddess in ancient Greek contexts. Finally, Prêtre's paper highlights the tension between the categorisation of onomastic attributes (cult epithets vs. bare explanatory qualifications) and the diversity of sources (epigraphy vs. literature, and within the latter, prose vs. poetry). The point made here, that sources inevitably frame our understanding of the functioning of key issues in the study of ancient religions, such as polyonomymy, is certainly not new and its importance should perhaps not be overrated. Nonetheless, the question of the limits imposed by our sources remains an important one, even more so when we are engaged in a comparative enterprise: all four papers use sources that belong to different genres and different contexts of usage which, in turn, questions the extent to which a phenomenon like polyonynmy in the cult of Ishtar, Demeter, Greek healing deities and Hadad can effectively be compared.

Secondly, all four papers point to broader social logics underlying the relationship between a deity and the names it receives. In Assyria, the gradual identification of local goddesses to a localised form of the goddess Ishtar, as in the case of Ishtar of Nineveh and Ishtar of Arbela, corresponds in part to the development of the Assyrian empire. It corresponds, therefore, to a form of centralisation, in which local deities are subsumed into a supra-regional classification while at the same time retaining their local identity. As Niehr expressly notes at the onset of his paper, a similar process of centralisation is not seen in the case of Syria and Anatolia, where we instead find a complex mosaic of small kingdoms with cultic centres usually located in the capitals, but sometimes elsewhere as well. Consequently, as Niehr observes, "we must reckon with a diversity of local cults of the storm-god Hadad in Aramean Syria and Anatolia". Nonetheless, these local cults appear to have been influenced by major central cults, one in Aleppo, the other in Guzana. In this regard, the cult of Hadad also appears to be a multi-layered phenomenon with local, regional and supra-regional components, although the coordinates are clearly different from Assyria. Similar questions can be raised regarding the cult of Demeter and the way in which the epithets of Demeter in the Homeric hymn attest to a mixture of highly localised and more broadly shared names for the goddess. Healing deities, and especially Asklepios, are also subject to similar multi-scale rationales: several cases of combined toponymic and functional attributes can be seen as an onomastic transcription of attributes referring to the widespread healing power of the god, within the framework of the spread of his cults throughout the Greek world in the 4th century BCE (and beyond). In short: the relationship between unicity and multiplicity in the names of a given deity is intrinsically related to the way in which local, regional and supra-regional levels were articulated in a given society and can only be understood against that background.

Thirdly, the four papers also raise an interesting set of questions regarding the way in which the relationship between unicity and multiplicity was effectively articulated by local practitioners. This point is expressly raised by Niehr in his paper when, in his final comments, he observes that, from the perspective of the historian, most of the cults of Hadad in Anatolia and Syria can be traced to one of two "prototypes" attested at Aleppo and Guzana, but that there is very little evidence that this genealogy was apparent to the local worshippers; they were much more concerned with the worship of the local form of Hadad. This point is somewhat consistent with the argument made by Allen in his paper where he shows that, despite the attempts made to interpret local goddesses as forms of the goddess "Ishtar", in several contexts the localised designation of the goddess was nonetheless preserved and appeared to have been an important aspect of local worship. As Allen aptly comments, it seems that in such cases "the toponymic element is more important than the name Ištar". In Greece, the situation is somewhat different because the "panhellenic" cultic and poetic tradition gradually provided a shared repertoire of names for a given deity, which could then be used in various local contexts. Even so, there are several instances in which divine names in epigraphic sources point to local forms of the cult of a deity which have no equivalent in poetic or other sources. In short, these observations remind us that there is sometimes a distance between local cults, on the one hand, and theological systems reflecting on the many names associated with a specific deity, on the other. For local cults, the existence (or non-existence) of such systems was not necessarily relevant, as the example of Hadad in Syria and Anatolia clarifies.

Fourthly, and lastly, all four papers also provide materials that force us to complexify the significance of the phenomenon of divine polyonymy in Antiquity. On the one hand, the paper by Pirenne-Delforge provides a clear example of a multiplicity of divine names associated to a goddess, Demeter, which however appear to circle around a relatively limited number of domains and functions related to that same goddess: agrarian production, the underworld and women, to mention the most prominent ones. One could say, in this regard, that a number of the epithets given to Demeter are variations of sorts built around some key domains and functions of the goddess. This case is made even more clear by Prêtre in her chapter, where she argues that the various onomastic elements associated with Asklepios point nonetheless to a fairly mono-functional profile of the god, who is virtually always associated with healing. A similar point could be made with regard to Egyptian evidence, since in hymns and other documents we find endless lists of divine names which do not all correspond to a specific function but rather are elaborate variations on a number of basic themes associated with that deity.6 On the other hand, the paper by Niehr provides an equally clear example of the opposite phenomenon, namely, references to localised forms of the cult of Hadad in various sources which, however, are not associated with a consistent epithet system. In several instances, the god is simply referred to as "Hadad", without any further epithet, or "this Hadad", as in the Panamuwa inscription (line 16), a designation which obviously refers to the local god Hadad. Furthermore, even in those instances where the name of the god is accompanied by some sort of predicate, there is hardly any consistency in the various constructions that we encounter. It is here, perhaps, that the concept of bricolage introduced by Lévi-Strauss could be most helpful: there is really no fixed system for epithets and, actually, the fact that we should speak of multiple divine names is even dubious itself. Rather, what we see are various ways to express some kind of local and personal relation to the deity, which can take very different forms depending on the dedicant. To put it somewhat provocatively, one could say that polyonymy is not always a marker of the inherent multiplicity associated with the gods in ancient polytheistic societies, and that conversely such multiplicity in a given god was not always expressed through polyonymy.

# Bibliography

Allen, Spencer L. (2015), The Splintered Divine: A Study of Istar, Baal, and Yahweh Divine Names and Divine Multiplicity in the Ancient Near East, Boston / Berlin / Munich.

Assmann, Jan (1993), Monotheismus und Kosmotheismus: ägyptische Formen eines «Denkens des Einen» und ihre europäische Rezeptionsgeschichte, Heidelberg.

Brulé, Pierre (1998), "Le langage des épiclèses dans le polythéisme hellénique", in: Kernos 11, 13–34. Hornung, Erik [1971] (2005<sup>6</sup> ), Der Eine und die Vielen: Altägyptische Götterwelt, Darmstadt. Lebreton, Sylvain (forthcoming), Zeus d'Athènes. Polythéisme et paysages onomastiques, Liège. Lévi-Strauss, Claude (1962), La pensée sauvage, Paris.

Some Greek texts, such as the so-called Orphic Hymns, present similar features.

Marcadé, Jean (1977), "Apollon « mitréphoros »", in: Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique Supplément 4, 389–408.

Pailler, Jean-Marie (2011), "Zeus ex machina. Le Meilichios ou l'oubli de la troisième fonction. Quaestiunculae Dumezilianae 2", in: Pallas 85, 43–57.

Parker, Robert (2003), "The problem of the Greek cult epithet", in: Opuscula Atheniensia 28, 173–183.

Smith, Mark S. (2012), "The Problem of the God and His Manifestations: The Case of the Baals at Ugarit, with Implications for Yahweh of Various Locales", in: Aaron Schart / Jutta Krispenz (eds.), Die Stadt im Zwölfprophetenbuch, Berlin / Boston, 205–250.

Smith, Mark S. (2016), Where the Gods Are. Spatial Dimensions of Anthropomorphism in the Biblical World, New Haven.

Vernant, Jean-Pierre [1965] (1990), Mythe et pensée chez les Grecs. Études de psychologie historique, Paris. Vernant, Jean-Pierre (1974), "La société des dieux", in: Mythe et société en Grèce ancienne, Paris, 103–120.

Versnel, Hendrik Simon (2011), Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology, Leiden / Boston.

#### Spencer L. Allen

# Incomplete Ištar Assimilation: Reconsidering the Goddess's Divine History in Light of a Madonnine Analogy

Abstract: The Semitic goddess Ištar is the most famous Mesopotamian goddess, and scholarly consensus favors viewing localized divine names as part of a larger Ištar constellation, including Ištar-of-Nineveh, Ištar-of-Arbela, and the Assyrian Ištar. This chapter explores the multiplicities surrounding the theonym Ištar, focusing primarily on the Neo-Assyrian period of the first millennium BCE. By privileging non-theologically speculative texts (e.g., letters, royal inscriptions, and treaties) over esoteric compositions (e.g., syncretic hymns and god lists), the distinctiveness of localized Ištar goddesses and other Mesopotamian goddesses will be demonstrated. Moreover, instead of examining multiplicity primarily from a singularity-to-fragmentary (or derivative) perspective as I did in The Splintered Divine, this chapter considers an incomplete-assimilation model, developed by analogy on the incomplete assimilation of the Catholic Our-Lady-of-Guadalupe and the pre-Colombian goddess Tonantzin.

The Akkadian goddess Ištar1 is the most famous of the Mesopotamian goddesses, and with her fame came a myriad of identifications with non-Akkadian goddesses. These goddesses include those from other cultures: the Sumerian Inanna, the Hurrian-Hittite Šaušga, the Levantine Astarte, and the Greek Aphrodite, along with the Roman Venus.<sup>2</sup> Given the planetary and passion connections common among many of these goddesses, both ancient and modern identifications of all these goddesses seem reasonable. Within the Akkadian-language world, some scholars have argued for Ištar's identification with other Mesopotamian goddesses, based on ancient syncretic hymns and god lists. These include Mullissu, Irnina, Damkianna, Gula, Išḫara, Zarpānītu, and many others.<sup>3</sup> A third category of Ištar identifications that has maintained scholarly

A special thanks to Joshua Jacobs II and Fabio Porzia for their help and suggestions on this essay.

See, for example, Barton 1893a, 131–165; and Barton 1893b–1894, 1–74; See also, Wegner 1981; Beckman 1998, 1–10; and Meinhold 2009.

See, for example, George 1992, 411. Similarly, Paul-Alain Beaulieu notes that the goddess's identification with Nanaya "was a basic tenet of Babylonian theology from very early times. There are very few hymns to Nanaya from the late periods which do not contain at least some trace of" (this identification) (Beaulieu 2003, 186–187). Beaulieu also mentions a possible identification of Nanaya with Urkittu in the Nanaya Hymn of Assurbanipal (SAA 3, 5), which "seems to equate her with Urkittu (i.e., Urkayītu)" (Beaulieu 2003, 187 and n. 56). See also, Erica Reiner's discussion of the first-millennium poem Hymn of Nanȃ, wherein the goddess proclaims for herself epithets associated with Ištar but then proclaims herself Nanaya (Reiner 1974, 221–236).

attention since the 1890s focuses on localized Ištars whose onomastic sequences include toponymic or adjectival epithets. Of interest for us are Ištar-of-Nineveh, Ištar-of-Arbela, along with a theonym derived from a toponym: Arbilītu ("She of Arbela"), and Assyrian-Ištar, although in this final onomastic sequence "Assyrian" is an adjective instead of a toponym.4

From a broad mythic perspective, these identifications seem reasonable. After all, our popular take on Ištar's character comprises an amalgam of Mesopotamian goddesses, but her personality remains relatively constant.5 Thus, consensus has long favored viewing the individualized divine names as part of a larger Ištar constellation.<sup>6</sup> Various texts may depict an Ištar goddess with distinctive parents, consorts, or siblings, but her personality and her roles as goddess of love/lust and war remain stable.7 Moving beyond the composite, mythical stereotype, scholars are now less likely to identify Ištar with other non-Ištar-named Mesopotamian goddesses (e.g., Nanaya and Zarpānītu) than before, but they still identify Ištar with non-Ištar-named counterparts outside of Mesopotamia (e.g., Šaušga and Astarte).<sup>8</sup> Likewise, scholars often identify localized goddesses whose identities include the theonym Ištar (e.g., Ištar-of-Nineveh, Ištar-of-Arbela, and the Assyrian-Ištar) as manifestations or representations of the singular mythic (henceforth: "unspecified") Ištar.9

This essay explores the multiplicities surrounding the theonym Ištar, focusing primarily on the Neo-Assyrian period of the first millennium BCE. By privileging non-

Dashes between theonymic and toponymic elements (and "of") indicate the elements serve as a singular divine name: e.g., Ištar-of-Nineveh = the goddess Ištar from Nineveh. Two parallel lines (//) are used to indicate that a theonymic element and a geographic epithet are acting together with the force of a singular divine name (e.g., Ištar//Lady-of-Nineveh = Ištar, the Lady from Nineveh). With reference to the cuneiform evidence, these parallel lines indicate that the first name is preceded by a divine determinative (<sup>d</sup> ), indicating divinity, but the epithet is not. When an epithet is preceded by a divine determinative, that epithet, typically "Lady" (bēlet) or "Queen" (šarrat), will instead be written out separately from any specific first name without the parallel lines. These epithet-toponym pairings follow the same rules of hyphenation as the theonymic-toponymic patterns. For example, "Ištar, Lady-of-Nineveh" represents two goddesses. The first is the mythic or unspecified Ištar, whereas the second is the esteemed goddesses of Nineveh. In contrast, "Ištar//Lady-of-Nineveh" represents one goddess. Abusch 1999, 453.

For a discussion on Ištar, specifically, the cult objects, and localized manifestations that comprise the goddess's divine constellation, see Hundley 2013, 88–107.

At Uruk, the unspecified Ištar is presented as the daughter of the high-god Anu ("Heaven"; Sumerian AN). Famously, in tablet VI of the Epic of Gilgamesh, Ištar demands that her father Anu release the Bull of Heaven against King Gilgamesh of Uruk because the king had rejected her marriage proposal (ll. 96–100). In contrast, Ištar is the daughter of the moon-god Sin (Sumerian NANNA) in the Descent of Ištar, wherein she challenges her sister Ereshkigal for control of the netherworld (ll. 16–20). In both the Epic of Gilgamesh VI and the Descent of Ištar, the goddess Ištar issues the same threat if she does not get what she wants: raise up the dead to eat the living.

See, for example, Wegner 1981; Beckman 1998, 1–10; and Meinhold 2009.

See, for example, Parpola 1997, XXIX; Lambert 2004, 35; Zsolnay 2009, 209; Sommer 2009, 14–15; cf. Allen 2015, 18–31.

theologically speculative texts (e.g., letters, royal inscriptions, and treaties) over speculative and esoteric compositions (e.g., god lists and syncretic hymns), the distinctiveness of three localized Ištar goddesses (i.e., Ištar-of-Nineveh, Ištar-of-Arbela, and Assyrian-Ištar) is demonstrated. In The Splintered Divine: A Study of Ištar, Baal, and Yahweh Divine Names and Divine Multiplicity in the Ancient Near East, I suggested that each of these goddesses could be thought of as derived from a singular, unspecified Ištar in a sort of fragmentary process, which is why I chose the title The Splintered Divine. Here, I argue that each goddess's history began independently of the unspecified Ištar while (eventually) sharing the common theonym Ištar. Throughout Assyrian history, goddesses were brought into the Assyrian imperial sphere, took on the name Ištar, but retained their independence. We might think of this process as an incomplete assimilation that never finalized during the course of Assyrian history.10 The goddesses at Nineveh, Arbela, and Assur maintained their individuality, despite the presence of the unspecified Ištar throughout Mesopotamia because their distinctiveness better served the Neo-Assyrian imperial needs.

This incomplete-assimilation model for the Neo-Assyrian goddesses is likened then to the incomplete assimilation of the Aztec goddess Tonantzin with the Catholic Virgin of Guadalupe in the sixteenth century of the common era. Ultimately, Tonantzin and the Virgin of Guadalupe fully assimilate, under the pressure of the colonial acculturation and Catholic orthodoxy, but the process was far from complete in the century following Cortés' conquest of Tepeyac Hill in modern Mexico City.

### 1 Neo-Assyrian Ištars

In her discussion on the roles and actions of Mesopotamian goddesses, JoAnn Scurlock defines an "Ištar" in the Assyrian and Babylonian worlds as the goddess of a particular city, who is usually the daughter of the city's patron god.11 This effectively renders the theonym Ištar equivalent to the English "goddess," and Scurlock reinforces this generic aspect of Ištar by listing several examples of Ištar-named goddesses and their corresponding mythological relationships: in Uruk, Ištar was the daughter of Anu; in Ḫarrān, Ištar was the daughter of Sin; and in Nippur, Ištar was the daughter of Enlil. Scurlock then refines this definition by adding that these goddesses were "spoiled brats and extremely dangerous." <sup>12</sup> Using this relationship-based identification methodology, a helpful proof-text comes from the lips of a very specific and famous Ištar,

Allen 2015, 141–199. Meinhold discusses localized assimilation, from which incomplete assimilation is partially derived (Meinhold 2009, 204–207).

Scurlock 2009, 68.

Ibid.

Ištar-of-Uruk. In the hymn, the Self-Praise of Ištar, the goddess identifies herself as the daughter of Anu (r. 4),<sup>13</sup> indicating that this Ištar is best understood as Ištar-of-Uruk.

#### 1.1 The Goddess at Nineveh

Like Ištar-of-Uruk, whose father was Anu, the Ninevite Ištar was Anu's daughter, so let us first consider the history of this Ninevite goddess. Gary Beckman notes that our earliest potential references to this deity may be from Šulgi's reign near the end of the third millennium BCE.<sup>14</sup> Sumerian inscriptions from the Ur-III period identify a local goddess as "Shausha-of-Nineveh" ( d ŠA.U18( GIŠ GAL).ŠA <sup>7</sup> NI.NU.A.KAM, Schneider 79, ll. 6–7), which could either represent the divine name Šaušga or mean "the great/ magnificent one" in the Hurrian language.<sup>15</sup> Regardless of the meaning, we can reasonably suspect that Shausha-of-Nineveh was the same goddess who would be revered by the Hittites in the second millennium, Šaušga-of-Nineveh. We should keep in mind, however, that we must be careful identifying deities across centuries, given the paucity of our information. Even though a localized goddess in Nineveh is called a name that we associate with a similar goddess centuries later does not mean this text referred to her, be it Šaušga or Ištar.

Our next reference to a localized Ninevite goddess dates to Šamšī-Adad I's reign in the Old Babylonian period (ca. 1800 BCE), in which the king dedicates the rebuilt Emenue-temple to "Ištar in Nineveh" ( d INANNA i-na ni-nu-wa-aki, RIMA 1, 0.39.2 ii 10–11), a temple that he claims was built during the reign of Maništūšu (ca. 2250). About the same time, the prologue to Ḫammurapi's law collection (ca. 1750) refers to an Ištar in Nineveh, but this time the goddess is placed at the Emašmaš-temple (Laws of Ḫammurapi iv 59–63).16 We cannot know that these references to Ištar represent a continuity of reverence with the earlier Shausha that Šulgi mentioned, or even if Šulgi's Shausha had been previously identified with the goddess worshipped by Maništūšu. However, we can argue with confidence that the deity mentioned in each inscription should be regarded as the local goddess associated with the city.

We can imagine three scenarios by which to connect Shausha-of-Nineveh from Šulgi's reign with the Ištar in Nineveh during the eighteenth century. First, perhaps Shausha was recognized as Ištar by some or all the Ninevite ethnicities (e.g., Sumerian, Hurrian, Akkadian, Assyrian, or another group) in the Ur-III period; however, this group preferred to refer to her by her "magnificent" epithet, as reflected in our inscription. Second, perhaps no one recognized the deity as Ištar in Šulgi's day, but by the Old Babylonian period, she had been identified with or assimilated into the Akka-

Frank 1939, 37.

Beckman 1998, 1.

Wegner 1995, 117.

Roth 1997, 80.

dian goddess's cult. Finally, we should consider the possibility that these two goddesses were never identified with each other. That is, perhaps the cult of one goddess died out without ever attaching itself to the other.

Tentative as it may be, the second option is the most attractive. It seems a reasonable conclusion that the non-Assyrian Shausha-of-Nineveh was eventually assimilated into the larger Ištar orthodoxy of the Assyrian world. Her personality and function were intentionally left distinct from other Assyrian and Babylonian goddesses because these empires benefitted from her independence, highlighting the regional importance of the city.17 This Šaušga- or Ištar-of-Nineveh was never fully identified with the unspecified Ištar, whom scholars typically consider the Ištar from Uruk. Moreover, there seems to have been some special aspect about the original goddess in Nineveh that the local Ninevites were not prepared to lose and that the scholarscribes were content preserving. Scurlock and Beckman both suggest this special aspect might have been the Ninevite goddess's reputation as a healer or patroness of magic, which may further reflect a Hurrian or Hittite background rather than a Sumerian or Akkadian background for this goddess.18

Whatever the relationship, or lack of the relationship, between the Ištar(s) revered by Šulgi, Šamšī-Adad, and Ḫammurapi, the divine name Ištar-of-Nineveh appears in a Hurrian god list from Ugarit (d INANNA ni-na2-aki, Ugaritica V, 220–221, no. 149a). This attestation further stresses the importance of this localized goddess in Hurrian theology in the second half of the second millennium. Her importance is also highlighted in the fourteenth-century letter that Tušratta, the king of Mitanni, sent to Egypt, along with a cult statue of the Ninevite goddess: "Thus Šaušga-of-Nineveh//Mistress-of-all-Lands: 'I wish to go to Egypt . . .' Now I herewith send her, and she is on her way" (EA 23:13–18, William Moran's translation, modified slightly).<sup>19</sup> Tušratta not only sent blessings to Egypt on behalf of Šaušga-of-Nineveh, he sent the goddess herself, even ending his message by encouraging the pharaoh to worship Šaušga-of-Nineveh while she was physically there (l. 31). Šaušga-of-Nineveh was an important goddess in official Mitanni tradition, but her geographic ties to Nineveh remained vital to her identity, even as she momentarily resided in Egypt.

We may not know the ethnicity of the people who first worshipped her in Nineveh or when they began worshipping her, but her intermediate history as a Hurrian and Hittite goddess is reflected in an eighth-century inscription, wherein Assyrian king Sargon II referred to her as Šaušga//Who-Resides-(in)-Nineveh (<sup>d</sup> ša-uš-ka a! -ši-bat ni-nu-wa, Lyon 1883, 9:54). Another remnant of the Ninevite goddess's Hurrian/Hittite legacy is her mid- or low-level position in the pantheon. In Hittite tradition, Ištar-of-Nineveh was a subordinate of the chief deity's consort; in Neo-Assyrian times, her rel-

Cf. Allen 2015, 107–108.

Beckman 1998, 6–7; Scurlock 2009, 68.

Moran 1992, 61–62. See also EA 21 and 24 §8 for other occurrences of the divine name Šaušga in the Amarna Letters.

atively low status in the Neo-Assyrian pantheon is demonstrated in numerous texts wherein the goddess's name appears near the end of the listed gods and after the Assyrian chief deity's consort Mullissu.<sup>20</sup> Consider, for example, a royal inscription from the reign of the seventh-century Assyrian King Esarhaddon (RINAP 4, Esar. 1 ii 45–46). This text mentions six theonyms in sequence: Assur, Šamaš, Bēl, Nabû, Ištar-of-Nineveh, and Ištar-of-Arbela. Of these six names, the first four represent male gods, and the final two represent goddesses. The first name, Assur, is the empire's chief deity, Šamaš is the sun-god/god of justice, Bēl is a title for Marduk, the chief deity of Babylon, and Nabû is Marduk's son. This sequence is relatively stable throughout Neo-Assyrian lists of theonyms, be it in royal inscriptions, witness lists, personal and royal correspondence, or cultic texts.21 Only after these male deities are listed do the names Ištar-of-Nineveh and Ištar-of-Arbela appear. This late inclusion in the list of theonyms is not unusual for these two goddesses. Indeed, the theonyms Ištar-of-Nineveh and Ištar-of-Arbela (or some variation on the two toponyms) can be found in several texts, including in letters 9, 10, 12, 15, 56, 57, 58, 60, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 140, and 156 collected in the State Archives of Assyria (SAA) 13; in letters 1, 33, 49, 59, 60, 61, and 128 collected in SAA 16; in letters 82, 83, 130, 174, 227, 228, 245, 249, 252, 286, 293, and 294 collected in SAA 10; in Assyrian treaties SAA 2, 2 and SAA 2, 6; in the cultic text BM 121206 ix; and in Esarhaddon's royal inscriptions 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 33, 48, 70, 71, 77, 78, 79, 93 in the collection RINAP 4.22 To sum up, when Ištar-of-Nineveh (or Ištar-of -Nineveh and Ištar-of-Arbela together) appears in a Neo-Assyrian list of theonyms, she typically appears near the end of the list, after the major deities and their consorts.<sup>23</sup> Indeed, this goddess's name appears distinct from the unspecified Ištar in esoteric and mystical texts, such as "Marduk Ordeal (Assur Version)," which mentions Ištar ( <sup>d</sup> IŠ.TAR) separately from Ištar-of-Nineveh and Ištar-of-Arbela (<sup>d</sup> 15 ša NINAki d15 ša uruarba-il3; SAA 3, 34, ll. 72–73; cf. SAA 2, 6:453–460). All of this suggests that the goddess at Nineveh was less important than the fact that she was the goddess from Nineveh, a city that served as the Assyrian capital for a century.

The pre-Neo-Assyrian history of Ištar-of-Nineveh might be sparsely documented, but we can still trace the history of a Ninevite goddess, whom conquering kings would identify specifically as Ištar-of-Nineveh. Potential antecedents of the goddess appeared sometime in the mid-third millennium and probably continued through the Old Akkadian, the Ur III, the Old Babylonian and Assyrian, the Hurrian Age of the Mitanni Empire, the Middle Hittite Kingdom, and Middle Babylonian periods, and we can connect these to her Neo-Assyrian history, where her divine name frequently appears. Although she was not originally identified as Ištar, this mid- to low-level god-

Cf. Allen 2015, 100–110, for a full methodological explanation of why late serial position in god lists indicates low status.

Cf. Allen 2015, 372–383, where lists of theonyms are shown from multiple Neo-Assyrian texts.

For further data, see Tables 3.3, 3.4, 3.6, 3.10, 3.11, 3.14, 3.15, and 3.16 in Allen 2015, 370–383.

Barré 1983, 19 and 25–26; Allen 2015, 104.

dess was regularly contrasted with other goddesses named Ištar, as well as the unspecified high goddess Ištar.

#### 1.2 The Goddess at Arbela

Before we begin our survey of the divine name Ištar as it relates to the city of Arbela, we should reconsider the preceding paragraph wherein the Arbelite goddess is frequently paired with the Ninevite goddess near the end of lists of divine names. Specifically, it is worth noting that the Arbelite goddess consistently appears after the Ninevite goddess, indicating her lesser status compared to the former.

The history of the Arbelite goddess is less well known than the one in Nineveh. According to Brigitte Menzel, among the earliest attestations we have recovered of a local goddess in Arbela, the epithet Lady-of-Arbela (GAŠAN arba-il3) has been uncovered at Nuzi in a fourteenth-century Babylonian ritual text. Working on the assumption that Hurrian theological influences affected Assyrian theology, Menzel considers it reasonable to conclude that "Lady of Arbela" was a localized Ištar/Šaušga goddess who later became known as Ištar-of-Arbela.24 A century later at Nuzi, a Šalmaneser I text boasted that he rebuilt the Egašan-kalam-ma of Ištar//Lady-of-Arbela (RIMA 1, A.0.77.16 iii 11'–12'), and he boasted building a cult center for Ištar//Lady-of-Talmuššu (l. 9'). Although we cannot know with certainty if the Lady-of-Arbela at Nuzi and Šalmaneser I's Ištar//Lady-of-Arbela were identified with each other in the fourteenth century, Menzel thinks a reasonable conclusion is that these two inscriptions refer to the same deity: Ištar-of-Arbela.

Because of Arbela's strategic position at the western edge of the Zagros Mountains, the Arbelite goddess became increasingly important as the Assyrian Empire expanded.<sup>25</sup> The Milqia shrine that was built just outside of Arbela for the occasional Akītu-festival reflects this goddess's growing importance. After describing his successful mid-ninth-century campaign against Urarṯu, Šalmaneser III mentioned that he performed the Akītu-festival for the Arbelite goddess in the Milqia shrine (SAA 3, 17 r. 27–30), referring to her first as Lady-of-Arbela (r. 28) and Ištar (r. 30). Elsewhere, when Šalmaneser III invokes the name Ištar in his royal inscriptions, he does not qualify her name with a toponymic epithet (see RIMA 3, A.0.102.2, 6, 10, and 14), which makes it difficult to determine whether the Arbelite goddess had been identified with or considered distinct from the unspecified Ištar, especially because we lack an intentional contrast between Ištar and the Arbelite goddess in this text.<sup>26</sup>

Menzel 1981, 6 and n. 20.

Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 79.

Lady-of-Nineveh appears in line 2 of this text, but the nature of the relationship between the Arbelite and Ninevite goddesses and the unspecified Ištar is unclear.

By the eighth century, the Arbelite goddess was clearly contrasted with Ištar-of-Nineveh (see above). Her name appears after the Ninevite goddess in the divine witness list within the treaty between Assur-nērārī V and Mati'-ilu of Arpad (SAA 2, 2 vi 15–16). Moreover, she was identified in writing in the inscriptions associated with the famous eighth-century Tel-Barsip relief in northern Syria.27 Not only is this relief explicitly connected to this geographically specific goddess, but aspects of her divine personality are very present, even if they all fit the traditional personality of unspecified Ištar. This Arbelite goddess appears warlike in the relief: she stands on a lion, holds its leash, and is armed with a sword, globe-tipped bow-cases, and a shield.

In the seventh century, the Arbelite goddess was well known as Ištar-of-Arbela, an imperial warrior goddess. Throughout this century, this goddess was distinguished from the Ninevite goddess and several other goddesses. If there was something special about the Ninevite goddess that made her distinctiveness worth preserving (i.e., her healing powers or merely her geography), then we might expect that the Arbelite goddess also had special qualities worth distinguishing her from the Ninevite goddess and other Ištars. If so, then the Arbelite goddess's reputation as a warrior goddess was matched by her importance as a conduit for prophecy (see SAA 9, 1.4, 1.6, 2.4, 5, 6, 7 and 9).

Another aspect of the Arbelite goddess that catches our attention and may hint at the goddess's origins is the preservation of her alterative name Urbilītu/Arbilītu ("the Arbelitess"), a feminine noun derived from the city name Arbela. Both the Ninevite and Arbelite goddesses have reputations as healers; however, in an examination of diagnostic medical texts, Scurlock notes that this goddess is specifically not referred to as Ištar-of-Arbela. Instead, she is identified simply as "the Arbelitess" (ur2-bi-li-ti, DPS III A 15–16), completely lacking an obvious theonymic element. Every other reference to any Ištar (or generic ištar) in these medical texts uses the name Ištar, but when a deity is blamed for Strachan's Syndrome, a vitamin B deficiency, the theonym Ištar is avoided for Arbilītu.<sup>28</sup> This unique treatment may indicate that this goddess established herself as her own distinct personality, as least as far as the compiler of the Diagnostic and Prognostic Series was concerned. Possibly, this non-Ištar name was a holdover from before the local Arbelite goddess was identified with Ištar. Maybe her name was originally Arbilītu; after all, naming a deity after its associated city has an Assyrian precedent with the god Assur in the city/hill Assur. Indeed, the topographic element Arbela is consistently the most important element in this goddess's name when we consider her relatively brief second-millennium history and her robust first-millennium Neo-Assyrian history uncovered from administrative documents and esoteric texts.

Dalley 2007, 51.

Scurlock/Andersen 2005, 159 and 708 n. 19.

Moreover, this toponymic element plays a role in Neo-Assyrian onomastics. In the Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, <sup>29</sup> no less than seven personal names invoke the Arbelite goddess by focusing on the city. A name like Arbail-lāmur ("May I see [Ištar-of-]Arbela!" VAT 20341 A 6') could refer to the city itself,<sup>30</sup> but other personal names make more sense when the theophoric element is interpreted as a reference to the goddess rather than to the city: Arbailītu-bēltūni ("The [divine] one from Arbela is our Lady," Iraq 41, 56, iii 24), Arbail-ḫammat ("[Ištar-of-]Arbela is the mistress," VS 1, 96:2, r. 3, and 5), Arbail-Ilāni ("[Ištar-of-]Arbela is my god," SAAB 9, 74, iii 12), Arbail-Šarrat ("[Ištar-of-]Arbela is Queen," ADD 207:4 and l.e. 1), and Arbail-šumu-iddina ("[Ištar-of-]Arbela has given a name," ND 3466b r. 2). In each of these Neo-Assyrian personal names, the toponymic element is more important than the name Ištar. Of course, we cannot know if any of the myriad of the Neo-Assyrian personal names with an Ištar element refer to the Arbelite goddess as opposed to any other localized Ištar, but the point is that we should focus on the irregular or less-common identifier Arbilītu as a clue to a unique origin for the goddess later known as Ištar-of-Arbela. Perhaps the name Arbilītu is evidence of an incomplete assimilation in ancient Mesopotamia between a local goddess from Arbela and the unspecified Ištar. Yes, the Arbelite goddess was identified with Ištar already in the fourteenth century, and she is commonly known as Ištar-of-Arbela throughout the eighth and seventh centuries. Rather than assuming the Arbelite goddess separated, or splintered, away from the unspecified Ištar over the course of seven centuries, we might consider that this goddess was an independent and distinct goddess who was later identified with the name Ištar (or the generic form ištar), but remained semi-autonomous and independent from the unspecified namesake. Were this the case, her incomplete assimilation was likely a result of her city's importance on the eastern frontier.

#### 1.3 The Goddess Who was Assyrian

Ištar-of-Nineveh was occasionally identified with the Assyrian chief deity Assur's consort Mullissu by some in the final century of the Assyrian Empire, and Ištar-of-Arbela was rarely identified with Mullissu (if at all), but nothing indicates that Assyrian-Ištar ( d 15 aš-šu-ri-tu) was ever identified with Mullissu. This is despite the fact that she resided near the god Assur in his capital for hundreds of years.<sup>31</sup> Notably, the theonym Assyrian-Ištar is grammatically different from Ištar-of-Nineveh and Ištar-of-Arbela because the word aššurītu, which follows the theonym, is a feminine adjective rather than a toponym.

PNA 1, 1–3, 1.

Fales/Jakob-Rost 1991, 70.

Meinhold 2009, 206–207 and 190–191. For a fuller discussion of Assyrian-Ištar, see ibid., 51–64.

The Assyrian goddess's name first appears on two votive offerings from the reign of Sargon I of Assur (ca. 1920–1881) and later in a treaty between the king of Apum Till-Abnû and the city of Assur.32 The treaty (ca. 1750) contains an oath by which the two parties swore by Assyrian-Ištar ([<sup>d</sup> eš4]-˹tar2˺ a-šu-ri-tam, Eidem Fs. Garelli 195 i 11), Lady-of-Apu, Lady-of-Nineveh ([<sup>d</sup> ]be-[l]a-at ni-nu-wa, 1. 13), Ninkarrak, and Išḫara. This indicates that Assyrian-Ištar was treated as a goddess distinct from the Ninevite Ištar already in the early second millennium.<sup>33</sup> This distinction between Assyrian-Ištar and other Ištar goddesses continues into the Middle Assyrian period, as evidenced by offering lists from Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta. In MARV 4 95, this king made an offering to her as Assyrian-Ištar (d ˹iš8-tar<sup>2</sup> aš2-šu˺-re-ti,i9'), contrasted her with Ištarof-Heaven (d ˹iš8-tar<sup>2</sup> ša AN-e˺, l. 10'), and then summarized the offerings "to the gods" (a-na DINGIRme<sup>š</sup> -ni, l. 11') "and the goddesses/Ištars" (u<sup>3</sup> d INANNAme<sup>š</sup> , l. 12').34

In the first millennium, Assyrian-Ištar's role diminished compared to the goddesses of Nineveh and Arbela, as indicated by their priority before her in god lists (e.g., SAA 2, 3:7'–10' and r. 2'–5'), but Assyrian-Ištar did regularly appear as a witness in land grants and other lower-level administration documents.<sup>35</sup> This demotion is partially the result of the movement of the imperial capital away from Assur and, eventually, to Nineveh. Despite this shift away from the city of Assur and Assyrian-Ištar's correspondingly reduced importance, the goddess continued to play a role in the cult at Assur. This continued role is demonstrated by the ritual text BM 121206 from Sennacherib's reign. According to this text, Mullissu's statue was placed next to the Assur statue (ix 27ʹ), whereas Assyrian-Ištar's statue was placed alongside the goddesses of Nineveh and Arbela (xi 30'–31').

Throughout her history, the Assyrian-Ištar was considered distinct from the Ninevite and Arbelite goddesses, as well as other goddesses identified by the theonym Ištar (e.g., Ištar-of-Heaven). Despite her long history at the Assyrian capital, this goddess was never identified as the chief deity's consort, and significantly her role within the Assyrian pantheon diminished as the capital moved from Assur to Nineveh.

Ibid., 52 and n. 205–206.

Ibid., 53; and Eidem 1991, 195. The earliest invocation of the goddess Assyrian-Ištar as such in a royal inscription does not appear until Puzur-Assur III's reign in the early fifteenth century, in which the theonym is linked with Ilu-šumma's temple (5 E2 d INANNA <sup>6</sup> aš-šu-ri-tim ša DINGIR-šum-ma <sup>7</sup> ru-ba -u<sup>2</sup> e-pu-šu, "temple of Assyrian-Ištar, which Ilu-šumma the prince built," RIMA 1 A.0.61.2:5–7).

For a fuller discussion of second-millennium offerings received by the Assyrian-Ištar, see Allen 2015, 189 n. 134.

Meinhold 2009, 58–59.

# 2 Madonna: Our Lady of Guadalupe

Having considered the history and development of the three Assyrian goddesses at Nineveh, Arbela, and Assur, we may now move across the world and look more than two thousand years ahead. These may seem like vast distances in space and time, but commonalities exist. Localized goddesses with obscure origins and histories continue to receive veneration in the face of assimilation when it benefits imperial power. In Nineveh, Arbela, and Assur, the importance of these cities provided sufficient reason to maintain the goddesses' independence, so only an incomplete assimilation between the goddesses and the unspecified Ištar occurred. In Mexico City, the initial incomplete assimilation between the goddess Tonantzin and the Virgin of Guadalupe provided the needed religious and cultural ambiguity for the indigenous people to hold on to their own language and beliefs as they accultured to Spanish Catholicism. Unlike our Assyrian examples, however, maintaining an incomplete assimilation did not serve Spain's long-term purpose, so the assimilation was finalized: Tonantzin became Our Lady of Guadalupe. To reiterate, the current comparison between the three Assyrian goddesses and Tonantzin who is Our Lady of Guadalupe is done for the sake of the entity's incorporation into a larger geopolitical purpose, not a discussion of Our Lady's multiplicity or unity.<sup>36</sup>

According to tradition, 57-year-old Juan Diego encountered an apparition of the Virgin Mary of Guadalupe four times from December 9 through 12 in 1531 on Tepeyac Hill, just north of Mexico City, a decade after the Aztec capital Tenochtitla fell to Cortés.<sup>37</sup> She identified herself in the newly Christianized Juan Diego's native language Nahuatl.<sup>38</sup> The official, Roman Catholic interpretation of these apparitions is that the singular Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus, appeared to Juan Diego. She asked him to find Archbishop Juan de Zumárraga of Mexico so that a church could be built in her honor at Tepeyac Hill, whence she could oversee and protect the native people.39 Juan Diego twice failed to get the archbishop to act, so the apparition gave him a cloak and told him to pick roses where they should not be expected to grow. The cloak, which suddenly bore the Virgin's image, and the roses finally inspired the archbishop to act on December 12, and the Marian shrine was commissioned.<sup>40</sup> As a result

For a fuller discussion on the perceived multiplicity of madonnine statutes in lay and orthodox Catholic thought, see Allen 2015, 59–70. This madonnine analogy has been incorporated into the Ištargoddesses discussion because of anecdotal arguments previously advanced by Otto Eißfeldt 1963, 176, and H. S. Versnel 2011, 66 (cf. Banfield 1958, 131; and Porter 2004, 44 n. 16). As I argue elsewhere, the madonnine anecdote offered by Versnel, like Banfield and Porter before him, is worth considering, whereas Eißfeldt's quick reference to madonnine and Yahwistic multiplicity is less convincing (cf. Allen 2015, 300–301).

Peterson 2005, 571; and Taylor 1987, 9.

Peterson 1992, 39.

Wolf 1958, 34 n. 8; and Stoichita 1994, 40.

Wolf 1958, 35.

of the Church's official response to the apparitions, especially the work of Miguel Sánchez in 1648, Tepeyac Hill is now the site of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe (with a capacity for 50,000 visitors) and the World Peace Rose Garden.41 However, despite the now canonical status of the madonnine tradition in Mexico City, Tepeyac Hill once hosted a preconquest cult site, purportedly in honor of the goddess Tonantzin, which was slowly assimilated into the colonial and Catholic Church. This period of slow assimilation parallels the incomplete assimilation of the various Ištars from the Neo-Assyrian Empire.

Unfortunately, a full history of the transition of Tepeyac Hill from Aztec polytheistic cult site to Spanish Catholic basilica is impossible to recount, in part, because our first textual witness to the purported event is from 1648, more than 100 years after the alleged apparitions.<sup>42</sup> In addition to time, several other factors complicate our understanding of the process, including that over ninety percent of Aztec religious sites were left in ruin in the wake of Cortés's arrival and that the Spanish made a point to place Marian statues on Aztec altars, intentionally obscuring indigenous devotion.<sup>43</sup> This is all compounded by the fact that most relevant Nahuatl documents were destroyed and what information that has been preserved comes to us through the biases of colonial and Christian writers.44 According to Jeanette Peterson, while there is evidence of preconquest cult activity in the general area of Tepeyac Hill, historians can be hesitant to attribute indigenous religious influences on the Catholic shrine.<sup>45</sup> As William Taylor notes, more research must be done on Tepeyac's cult origins as we sift the relationship between the Aztec cult and the Catholic basilica.46 There are simply too many holes in our knowledge base to rebuild the transition with confidence, but it is this transition that enlightens our understanding of the incomplete assimilation of Ištars.

Although we lack specifics about the cult in the region surrounding Tepeyac Hill during the preconquest era, we know that worship there could include rain-dancing ceremonies and effigies representing the divine.47 Moreover, Peterson notes that the

International World Peace Rose Gardens, "Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe World Peace Rose Garden," accessed December 8, 2021, https://www.worldpeacerosegardens.org/the-basilica-of-our-ladyof-guadalupe/; and Wood 2020, 210.

Stoichita 1994, 42. Stoichita notes that already in 1600, commercialized prints of the Virgin were in circulation.

Wood 2020, 210; Taylor 1987, 10; and Peterson 1992, 39.

Lara 2008, 102. Regarding Nican Mophua ("Here is Recounted"), the supposed 16th-century Nahuatl text attributed to Antonio Valeriano, a native scribe, scholars are divided over its authenticity (cf. Peterson 1992, 47 n. 3; contra Léon-Portilla 2017, 76).

Peterson 2014, 71.

Taylor 1987, 25.

Peterson 2014, 79. Peterson also notes that the site has pre-Aztec influences in both political and sacred traditions (72).

Tepeyac area served as an ancient pilgrimage site devoted to chthonic deities.<sup>48</sup> Indeed, pencil-and-ink sketches, including the Códice de Teotenantzin, and archaeological surveys direct us to two petroglyphs portraying a preconquest goddess.<sup>49</sup> The connection between a preconquest goddess and the shrine at Tepeyac Hill is reinforced by accounts of the works of Nezahualcoytl, ruler of Texcoco, whose building projects included a statue with the shield of Tonantzin Cihuacoatl, "Our Honorable Mother, the Snake Woman." 50

The name Tonantzin Cihuacoatl is of particular interest when considering the origins of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Admittedly, we have no evidence of a specific goddess known as Tonantzin from the preconquest era. Rather, tonan ("our Mother") is a title that could be applied to various birth goddesses, and tzin is an honorific suffix.<sup>51</sup> As an epithet, the motherhood language underlying Tonantzin conveniently fits the Catholic epithet for Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mary, the mother of God. From an Aztec perspective, Tonantzin is too generic to invoke a singular goddess, but this non-specificity is probably what made the transition of Tepeyac Hill from Aztec shrine to Catholic basilica possible.52 Following the Christian witnesses from the 16th century, the indigenous people could view it as a continuation of their native tradition, a tradition in which the gods often lacked an "absolute individuality" as they "changed attributes and names." <sup>53</sup> Yes, Mary, Mother of God, is a specific entity in Catholic tradition, but according to various contemporary Spanish critics (see below), the indigenous people avoided Catholic specificity and continued to revere the entity at Tepeyac Hill as Tonantzin, Our Honored Mother instead. As the native people acculturated into Spanish Catholicism, generic epithets may have aided religious syncretism, allowing for a complete assimilation between the two at a later date. Forced to rely on the Spanish interpretation rather than the indigenous experience, we must remember that honorific titles and common names obscure our understanding of the entity's nature (from the worshipper's perspective), complicating any conclusions we might draw.

The second element of Nezahualcoytl's goddess's epithet, Cihuacoatl, is interesting and coincidental in its own right, especially as it relates to snakes. To fully appreciate this epithet, we must first address the Spanish word Guadalupe. Notably, the phonemes "g" and "d" are not native to the Nahuatl language.<sup>54</sup> This means the apparition would not have identified herself to Juan Diego in his native Nahuatl langue as Guadalupe; instead, Guadalupe (famously known as the hometown of the Black Madonna

Peterson 1992, 39.

Lujáun/Noguez 2011, 94; and Peterson 2014, 73.

Barcas 2017, 80 and 82.

Peterson 2014, 87.

Ibid., 101. Peterson describes the preconquest religious traditions at Tepeyac Hill as "fluid" and "polymorphic," so this generic appellation is all the more appropriate.

Ibid., 82.

Soormally 2015, 177 n. 4.

in Extremadura since 1340) must have been added to the narrative later. The best efforts to attribute the word Guadalupe to Juan Diego's apparition match it up with Nezahualcoytl's Cihuacoatl, "the Snake Woman." For example, Francis Parkinson Keyes argued that the Nahuatl word for snake/serpent was coatl; the word for goddess was tlaloc; and the word for watching over was tlalpia. <sup>55</sup> Together these became Caotalocpia (allowing for the drop of one of the two clusters tla), which resembles the Spanish Guadalupe. Because the Virgin is often depicted as standing on a snake in Catholic imagery,56 Keyes concluded that the Aztec snake goddess – although not specifically Nezahualcoytl's Tonantzin Cihuacoatl – lent herself to identification with Our Lady of Guadalupe. Historically, then, we may posit that a Spanish priest heard the Nahuatl word Caotalocpia, considered it a linguistic approximation for Guadalupe, and built the identification between the Aztec goddess and the Catholic apparition.

Again, the preconquest history of Tepeyac Hill and local reverence to a Tonantzin goddess is difficult to reconstruct, and we are unable to isolate a specific goddess with which to identify Tonantzin. However, we need not reconstruct any formal history or theological reality to argue for an incomplete assimilation between a goddess and the Virgin. Nor need we accept the historical reality of a Juan Diego, much less his visions and miracles behind the founding of the Catholic shrine itself in his day.57 Rather, our best evidence regarding the pre-history of a cult at this site is found in contemporary Spanish criticisms of indigenous worship practices. In these criticisms we find evidence of continuity between a native religious tradition and canonical Catholic reverence of Our Lady of Guadalupe. For example, in 1555, the first Mexican Church council had problems with "paganism" and the "Indian response to domination" regarding "the persistence of traditional religious beliefs." <sup>58</sup> The Church stepped up its evangelical efforts and relied, in part, upon syncretism between Catholicism and indigenous religion and upon associations with healing disease, fertility, and natural disasters common to the popular view of the Virgin and perceptions of native goddesses.

The establishment of a Catholic shrine in 1556 at Tepeyac Hill was part of these increased efforts to attract the native population to Catholicism.59 These efforts must have been effective because already in 1556, Franciscan friar Francisco de Bustamante lamented "the people of the city" and their improper devotion at Tepeyac Hill; however, by 1557, Archbishop Montúfor resided as patron of the shrine, highlighting the evangeli-

Viz. Wood 2020, 211.

Cf. Genesis 3:15 and Revelation 12:17 for biblical interest in the conflict between woman/virgin and serpents/dragons. For connections between Our Lady of Guadalupe and the book of Revelation, see Stoichita 1994, 43; and Peterson 2014, 120.

Peterson suggests that there was no Catholic shrine at Tepeyac Hill prior to 1555 (Peterson 1992, 40); The Juan Diego narrative was already challenged as fable in 1779 by Juan Baustista Muñoz (Stoichita 1994, 42).

Peterson 1992, 40.

Ibid.

cal efforts undertaken while catholicizing New Spain.60 Viewing these evangelical efforts and laments as two sides of the same coin, we can imagine how the Spanish wanted to create coreligionists while remaining distinct from the non-European populations. Indeed, regardless of the expression and practice of the native population, the Spanish might not have trusted their Catholicism precisely because it was forced upon them.61 Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún's words should be evaluated in this vein. He bore witness to native people's pilgrimages to Tepeyac Hill approximately half a century after Cortés' conquest, noting that they were still worshiping the ancient goddess:

The Spaniards call it Tepeaquilla; now it is called Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. At this place they had a temple dedicated to the mother of the gods whom they called Tonantzin, which means Our Mother. There they performed many sacrifices in honor of this goddess. (Bernardino de Sahagún, Florentine Codex).<sup>62</sup>

Sahagún further commented that pilgrims came from all over Mexico, bringing offerings with them. These native pilgrims and their performance of inappropriate rites at the Catholic shrine were not the end of Sahagún's concerns; he was further troubled by the goddess's name and the confusion it supposedly inspired. The similarities between the meaning of Tonantzin, "Our Honored Mother," and the Virgin's epithet, "Mother of God," created an intolerable ambiguity for Sahagún.<sup>63</sup> Not only did he blame the indigenous population for this syncretism that kept their native tradition alive within Catholic practice, he blamed priests for highlighting similarities between the goddess and the Virgin: "And now that a church of Our Lady of Guadalupe is built there, they also call her Tonantzin, being motivated by the preachers who called Our Lady, the Mother of God, Tonantzin." <sup>64</sup> Although religious ambiguity and the Spanish usurpation of sacred spaces enabled the missionaries to spread Catholicism throughout the region, Sahagún dismissed this religious syncretism as a Satanic invention.65

Moving into the seventeenth century, the relationship between Tonantzin and the Virgin blurs to the point that Tonantzin's indigenous legacy is being lost. Yes, Jacinto de la Serna echoed Bustamante's and Sahagún's complaint that "it is the purpose of the wicked to [worship] the goddess and not the Most Holy Virgin, or both together," but in 1648 Miguel Sánchez led the campaign to legitimate Tepeyac Hill in Catholic

Taylor 1987, 11.

See, for example, Henry Kamen's comment regarding the Spanish Inquisition, "Given the forced nature of the mass conversions of 1391, it was obvious that many could not have been genuine Christians" (Kamen 2014, 16).

Viz. Peterson 2014, 69.

Peterson 2014, 81.

Ibid., 101.

Ibid., 70.

eyes.<sup>66</sup> His Imagen de la Virgen María Madre de Dios de Guadalupe milagrosamenta Aparecida en México, celebrada en su hisoria con la profecía del capítulo doze del Apocalipsis was the first text to establish Tepeyac Hill as the location of Juan Diego's visions; maintain Juan Diego was himself a Christian convert who spoke Nahuatl; and indicate that the apparition identified herself as Guadalupe. Although he wrote more than a century after the supposed events, Sánchez's efforts greatly assisted the transition of Tepeyac Hill from a Catholic shrine into a canonical, Mexican church (and later basilica). Through his record of the 1531 events, Sánchez provided a native hero that the indigenous population could embrace, and he allowed them to reimagine the Spanish conquest beyond political or imperial terms. Sánchez confirmed that the Virgin wanted to establish a presence and care for her people in this land, and over time his narrative won out. Because he wrote nearly 130 years after Cortés, his audience had been Christianized for several generations. Aspects of their preconquest cultures surely remained, and local practices would continue to remain distinct from Spanish culture, but Spanish acculturation had plenty of time to redefine the people so that the shrine need be only Christian.

Sánchez built upon the syncretistic reality that Sahagún and other Spanish writers condemned. Because of their bias against the native paganism, Europeans necessarily dismissed native traditions as they sought to convert them to Catholicism, and at the same time, they did not trust those conversions.<sup>67</sup> Even into the late-eighteenth century, the European elite wanted to remain distinct from the native peoples despite the inescapable fact that they were now coreligionists. Thus, Martín de León's claim that the native population revered Our Lady of Guadalupe at Tepeyac Hill, but really "many of them understand this in the old way (i.e., their Tonantzin) and not in the modern way (i.e., our Virgin)." <sup>68</sup> De León may have parroted Sahagún and others from the previous centuries, but in the wake of Sánchez, the Imagen de la Virgen, and three centuries of colonization, the identities of Tonantzin and the Virgin had fused in the popular, that is, Catholic mind. Specific aspects of preconquest culture survived to color religious practice, like the nondescript Nahuatl name/epithet Tonantzin, but the population at Tepeyac Hill, throughout Mexico, and all over the Americas fully recognize "our Mother" as the canonical Our Lady of Guadalupe and not as a preconquest goddess. Whatever incomplete assimilation may have existed in the 16th century, Sánchez and others' retelling of the Juan Diego narrative helped complete the assimilation that we bear witness to today in Mexico City.

Although the Church's official position is to downplay Marian or madonnine apparitions, there is no denying that establishing a local madonnine shrine benefits the local economy and the relative political power of the clergy within the Church hierar-

Wolf 1958, 35 and 39 n. 11; and Peterson 1992, 40.

Burkhart 1998, 365.

Viz. Wolf 1958, 35 and 39 n. 11.

chy.69 As Michael P. Carroll notes, madonnine shrines can only survive with official Church encouragement and support.70 In this regard, the publication of Juan Diego's vision ultimately allowed for the incorporation of a forbidden religious community (i.e., the pilgrimage cult to the mother goddess Tonantzin) into the larger, official cult that is the Our Lady of Guadalupe cult at Tepeyac Hill and further elevated the importance of this same site. In addition to winning over the native population to Christianity, this Catholic basilica has brought untold prestige and wealth to the church in Mexico City, benefitting both the local community and the larger Church, as it has become a symbol of Latin American and Catholic pride across the globe.

### 3 Conclusion

My argument for distinctiveness of the Ninevite goddess, Ištar-of-Nineveh, the Arbelite goddess, Ištar-of-Arbela, and the Assyrian goddess, Assyrian-Ištar, from each other and other Ištar-named goddesses, including the unspecified Ištar has not changed; they should still be considered distinct. I want to reconsider the nature of their relationship to the unspecified Ištar as one of incomplete assimilation, not divine splintering. I offer the madonnine analogy from Our Lady of Guadalupe at Tepeyac Hill because many Assyriologists and Classicists have turned to the Virgin Mary as an example of orthodox singularity despite her numerous localized manifestations. The example from Tepeyac Hill does not provide insight into modern madonnine multiplicity, but it does provide access to a window of assimilation, one that was once incomplete for a time. We can, I suggest, reconsider our data for the goddesses at Nineveh, Arbela, and Assur through an incomplete assimilative model in light of these processes at Tepeyac Hill. Instead of assuming that those three goddesses originated as Ištar and then splintered away to become their own goddesses with their own onomastic sequences, we should reexamine their independent localized histories and stake a claim on their original (and continued) independence and distinctiveness.

Reconsidering these data would not only privilege the literal meaning of these ancient documents, especially those that appear to differentiate between localized Ištars, but it would provide another layer of religious understanding to those local populations and their goddesses. The perspective offered by an incomplete assimilation model could also offer further insight into the relationship between local cults and their populations and the imperial Assyrian system, or the relationship across various populations. For example, Meinhold explores the possibility of an incomplete assimi-

Cf. Carroll 1985, 56–74; and Allen 2015, 59–70.

Carroll 1992, 164. Consider also the madonnine shrines at Lourdes and LaSalette, whose existence has depended upon official church recognition and support, which, in turn, booster the local economy and parish politics.

lation between two localized goddesses and the imperial god's Assur's consort, Mullissu in her larger examination of Neo-Assyrian Ištars. Specifically, she argues that Ištar-of-Nineveh was increasingly recognized as Mullissu in seventh-century Nineveh, then capital of the empire, but these two divine names were not necessarily equated elsewhere throughout the empire.71 At the same time, Meinhold entertains the possibility that Ištar-of-Arbela might have been recognized as Mullissu in the areas surrounding Arbela. Because both of these identifications with Mullissu would have been local and not global, Meinhold argues, the goddess of Nineveh and the goddess of Arbela could still be conceived of as distinct in the Neo-Assyrian period even if they are both equated with the same third divine name elsewhere in the empire.

Meinhold's and other previous studies on Ištar and localized goddesses in the Neo-Assyrian period, including those by Wegner, Beckman, and even Barton's 19th-century scholarship, provide the mythical foundation and textual (and occasionally iconographic) databases from which to explore the relationships between these goddesses across Assyrian history and other cultures. Because these studies and others tackled the difficult theological speculations and abstract phenomena surrounding the unspecified Ištar on a global level, we are now in a place to focus on the local. That is, instead of imagining there was Ištar in Nineveh, in Arbela, and in Assur, we should imagine that the local goddess in each city eventually took on the name Ištar and yet maintained their independence and distinctiveness.

### Bibliography

Abusch, Tzvi (1999), "Ishtar", in: Karel van der Toorn / Bob Becking / Pieter W. van der Horst (eds.), Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible, Leiden, 452–456.


Meinhold 2009, 203–204.


Reiner, Erica (1974), "A Sumero-Akkadian Hymn of Nanȃ", in: Journal of Near Eastern Studies 33, 221–236. Roth, Martha T. (1997), Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor, Atlanta.

Scurlock, JoAnn (2009), "Not Just Housewives: Goddesses After the Old Babylonian Period", in: Steven Holloway / JoAnn Scurlock / Richard H. Beal (eds.), In the Wake of Tikva Frymer-Kensky, Piscataway.

Scurlock, JoAnn / Andersen, Burton R. (eds.) (2005), Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian Medicine. Ancient Sources, Translations, and Modern Medical Analyses, Urbana / Chicago.

Sommer, Benjamin (2009), The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel, Cambridge.


Taylor, William B. (1987), "The Virgin of Guadalupe in New Spain: an inquiry into the social history of Marian devotion", in: American Ethnologists 14, 9–33.

Versnel, H. S. (2011), Coping with the Gods: Wayward Readings in Greek Theology, Leiden.

Wegner, Ilse (1981), Gestalt und Kult der Ištar-Šawuška in Kleinasien (AOAT 36), Kevelaer / Neukirchen-Vluyn.


### Text editions

Anderson, Arthur J.O / Dibble, Charles E. (eds.) (1950–1982), Sahagún, Bernardino de. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain, Santa Fe.

Herbert Niehr

# The Many Faces of Hadad in Aramaean Syria and Anatolia (1st Mill. BCE). Three Case Studies on Hadad at Sikāni, Samʾal, and Damascus

Abstract: A variety of local storm-gods was worshipped in Syria in the 2nd millennium BCE. In the wake of the Aramaization of Syria from the 12th century BCE onwards, which implied the construction of an Aramaean identity and the spread of the Aramaic language, these storm-gods either came to be identified with the dominant storm-god, Hadad, or were replaced by the victorious storm-god of the Aramaean conquerors.

# 1 Introduction

At the head of the Aramaean panthea1 of Syria and Anatolia in the 1st mill. BCE stood the storm-god Hadad.<sup>2</sup> As rain-dependent crops predominated in these regions, a decisive role in the provision of rain was appropriate to him. This does not, however, mean that Hadad was the same throughout Syria and Anatolia; rather, different manifestations of Hadad influenced by different cultic traditions, mythologies, and local traits can be distinguished. Beyond Hadad's position as supreme god of the pantheon, he also enjoyed an important role in the royal ideology of the Aramaean kingdoms, as becomes especially clear at Sikāni (Tall Faḫarīya), Samʾal (Zincirli), and Damascus. Hadad was regarded as the father of the reigning king, who was his son. Furthermore, Hadad acted as a warrior god, who protected the kingdom and the king during his lifetime. After his demise, the king was divinized and worshipped together with Hadad.<sup>3</sup>

I am obliged to the participants of the meeting in Toulouse for their helpful comments and to Alexander Johannes Edmonds for correcting the English style of this article.

For the origin of the names Hadda / Haddu / Hadad / Adad / Addu, see Schwemer 2001, 34–58; Schwemer 2007, 135–137; Schwemer 2016–2018, 72. On Hadad in the religion of the Aramaeans, see Sourdel 1952, 39–44; Hoftijzer 1968, 9–12; Freyberger 1989; Freyberger 2006; Greenfield 1993; Greenfield 1999<sup>2</sup> ; Müller-Kessler/Kessler 1995; Haider 1996; Schwemer 2001, 610–618; Schwemer 2007, 160–162; Schwemer 2016–2018, 78–79; Bunnens 2004, 58–65; Bunnens 2006, 33–108; Niehr 2014a, 128–132, 136–140, 154–155, 160–161, 165–166, 171–172, 184–186, 193–198, 200–202; Niehr 2015a; Niehr 2021b.

On Hadad's role in the royal ideology, see the overviews in Niehr 2020a, Niehr 2020b, Niehr 2021a.

Hadad's relationship to other gods remain rather vague, although it is evident that he always stood at the head of the panthea. It is unclear whether Hadad had a paredros at his side in all these panthea. Furthermore, the gods and goddesses of the Aramaean panthea in Syria and Anatolia were not simply the children of Hadad (and his paredros) as is known, for example, from the Ugaritic texts of the Late Bronze Age.

It must be recalled that there was no central Aramaean state uniting the entirety of Syria and Anatolia, but rather several small kingdoms with their cult centers mainly in the capitals, but sometimes in other cities of the kingdom. Consequently, there was no imperial Aramaean pantheon akin to those from the Hittite kingdom of Late Bronze Age Anatolia or Assyria and Babylonia in Mesopotamia during the 1st mill. BCE. Hence, we must to reckon with a diversity of local cults of the storm-god Hadad in Aramaean Syria and Anatolia.

# 2 Faces of Hadad in Aramaean Syria

In order to examine the many faces of Hadad in Aramaean Syria, this contribution will examine three case studies of manifestations of Hadad as attested in different Aramaean cultic sites of Syria and Anatolia: Sikāni in the kingdom of Gūzāna (northeastern Syria), Samʾal in the kingdom of Yādiya (north-western Syria), and Damascus in the kingdom of Aram (southern Syria).

As for the written sources on Hadad, the transition from clay tablet to papyrus in the 1st mill. BCE means that no mythical or epical traditions on the panthea in Aramaean Syria and Anatolia have been preserved.<sup>4</sup> Rather, the written evidence on Hadad is restricted to some inscriptions on stone and on ivory. This meagre evidence cannot be supplemented by the Baʿal traditions of Late Bronze Age Ugarit<sup>5</sup> because they do not reflect the mythology of the Aramaeans in Syria and Anatolia. The iconographic sources for the worship of the storm-god in Aramaean Syria and Anatolia need only be mentioned in passing here. They have been recently treated, and it is unnecessary to repeat these insights here.6

The only exceptions are the Aramaic Aḥiqar (see Niehr 2007) and Papyrus Amherst 63 (see van der Toorn 2018).

Contra Greenfield 1999<sup>2</sup> , 378, 380.

See Bunnens 2006, 109–171, Dietz/Otto 2016–2018 and Herbordt 2016–2018.

#### 2.1 Sikāni

The textual basis for the worship of the god Hadad in Sikāni, a royal residence in the kingdom of Gūzāna, is supplied by an Assyrian-Aramaic bilingual inscription (KAI 309) found in 1979 on top of Tall Faḫarīya, ancient Sikāni. Although the Assyrian portion served as the vorlage for the translation into the Aramaic language, the Aramaic part is nevertheless to be judged as a text in its own right.7 The first part of the Aramaic version states the following about the god Hadad (KAI 309, 1–12a):

1) The statue of Hadda-yithʿī, which he has set up before Hadadsikāni, 2) regulator of the waters of heaven and earth, who brings abundance, who gives pasture

3) and watering-places to all lands, who gives offering and libation

4) to all the gods, his brothers, regulator of all rivers, who enriches

5) all lands, the merciful god, to whom it is good to pray, who dwells

6) in Sikāni, the great god, his lord, Hadda-yithʿī, king of Gūzāna, son of

7) Šešnūrī, king of Gūzāna, for the life of his spirit, and for the length of his days,

8) and for the longevity of his years, and for the welfare of his house, and for the welfare of his progeny, and for the welfare

9) of his people, and for removing illness from him, and for making his prayer heard and for ac-

10) cepting the words of his mouth he erected and gave (it) to him. And whoever later

11) transports (this statue), may he erect it anew, and may he place my name on it. And whoever removes my name from it

12a) and places his own name, may Hadad, the strong one, be against him.

Several insights into the local manifestation of the god Hadad in Sikāni can be elicited from this first part of the Tall Faḫarīya inscription. Hadad is characterized as the "regulator of the waters of heaven and earth" (l. 1). This epithet is clearly influenced by the Assyrian vorlage as this epithet is never used in any other Aramaic attestations of Hadad in Syria. Its use in the Tall Faḫarīya inscription is understandable, because rivers (primarily the Euphrates, Ḫabūr, and Tigris) and water canals irrigated the soil in Mesopotamia. Hadad's titles as "regulator of all rivers" (l. 4) and also as "Lord of the Ḫabūr" (l. 16), i.e. the lord of the river in the immediate vicinity of Sikāni, stand in agreement with this.

The storm-god's name 'Hadadsikāni' is an example of a geographical name appended to that of a deity in order to discern the Hadad from Sikāni from other Hadad-manifestations worshipped by the Aramaeans. Furthermore, this geographical last name is a hint to the god's cult center in Sikāni.<sup>8</sup> The central position as regulator of the waters of heaven and earth enables Hadad to deliver abundance, pasturage,

For the Aramaic text, and its translation, and commentary, see Abou-Assaf/Bordreuil/Millard 1982, 23–37; Lipiński 1994, 48–81; Millard 2000; Dušek/Mynářová 2016, 10–19; Fales/Grassi 2016, 69–81; Niehr 2021a. For a comparison of the Akkadian and the Aramaic versions, see esp. Crouch/Hutton 2019, 41–227 and the literature quoted in Niehr 2021a, 164 n. 10.

For this, see Allen 2015, 232–237.

and watering-places to all the lands (l. 2–3), and to enrich all lands (l. 4–5). Hadad is praised as the god who makes the land, vegetation, animals, and humankind live. Furthermore, in his capacity as chief of the pantheon, Hadad "gives offering and libation to all the gods, his brothers" (l 3–4). Hadad is also responsible for the well-being of the members of the pantheon. Behind this stands the cult of the temple of Hadad, in which the other gods of Sikāni were worshipped as theoi sunnaoi with Hadad supreme. Nevertheless, the other gods are characterized as Hadad's brothers, thus indicating their high rank. No names are given; Hadad's brothers remain anonymous divine beings.

Another important epithet of Hadad is "the merciful god, to whom it is good to pray" (l. 5). At this juncture, the relationship between Hadad and human beings, and above all with the king, enters the inscription's focus. In order to worship Hadad, the god needs an abode on earth, as indicated by the sentence "who dwells in Sikāni" (l. 6; cf. l. 15–16) or in the more abbreviated epithet "Hadadsikāni" (l. 1). This epithet relates to the god's temple at Sikāni, which still eludes archaeological identification on Tall Faḫarīya.9 The person whose prayer to Hadad is meant, is, of course, the king. First of all, the king's name, Hadda-yithʿī, must be considered, as this theophorous name "Hadad is my salvation" displays an intimate relation between the head of the pantheon of Sikāni and the king. It is open to debate whether the king's name, Haddayithʿī, is a throne-name bestowed upon him when he became crown-prince or during the accession ritual, or not. The practice of bestowing throne-names on crown-princes is known from both Neo-Assyrian10 and Aramaean courts during the 1st mill. BCE.<sup>11</sup>

Regardless, Hadad is the king's "lord" (l. 6; cf. l. 17) and the kings prays "for the life of his spirit, and for the length of his days and for the longevity of his years, and for the welfare of his house, and for the welfare of his progeny, and for the welfare of his people, and for removing illness from him, and for making his prayer heard, and for accepting the words of his mouth" (l. 6–10). This demonstrates that King Haddayithʿī, who had erected the statue for Hadad, expects a great deal from the divine overlord of the Ḫabūr region. The statue is the interface between divine and human contact, and this is why the statue may not be removed or Hadda-yithʿī's name erased from it (l. 10–12a). Otherwise Hadad, who is called the "strong one", will be the "adversary", "prosecutor", or "accuser" of the perpetrator, who is certainly a hostile king. In this passage, a legal terminus technicus, qbl, is conferred on Hadad,<sup>12</sup> a term also known from the epithets of the Mesopotamian storm-god Adad.<sup>13</sup>

The second part of the inscription states (KAI 309, 12b–23):

For the archaeology of Tall Faḫarīya, see Bonatz 2013.

See Radner 2005, 33–35.

See Niehr 2020a, 286–289 and Niehr 2021a, 166. See also below for the bestowal of throne-names in Damascus; for Sam'al cf. the royal name Bar-Rakkab.

Thus Abou-Assaf/Bordreuil/Millard 1982, 24, 33; Lipiński 1994, 49.62; Fales/Grassi 2016, 71, 76–77.

See Greenfield/Shaffer 1983, 115.

12b) Statue of Hadda-yithʿī,

13) king of Gūzāna, of Sikāni and of Azran. For the stability of his throne,

14) that his life may be long, for the utterance of his mouth towards gods and towards men 15) is pleasing he has made this statue, better than the old one he has made it. Before Hadad 16) dwelling in Sikāni, lord of the Ḫabūr, he has erected his statue. Whoever removes my name from the vessels

17) of the house of Hadad, my lord: My lord Hadad shall not accept his bread and his water from 18) his hand. Šuwala, my lady, shall not accept his bread and his water from his hand. And may he

19) sow, but let him not harvest. And thousand barley (measures) may he sow and a half measure may he take from it.

20) And may one hundred ewes suckle a lamb, but let it not be satisfied. And may one hundred cows suckle

21) a calf, but let it not be satisfied. And may one hundred women suckle a child, but let it not be satisfied.

22) And may one hundred women bake bread in an oven, but let them not fill it. And from a cesspit may his men glean barley, may they eat it.

23) And the plague, the rod of Nergal, shall not be cut off from his land.

The second part of the inscription continues with the purpose of erecting a statue for the god Hadad. King Hadda-yithʿī stresses that the statue had been bequeathed by him (l. 12b–13), and as the reason for this votive act he adduces "that his life may be long, for the utterance of his mouth towards gods and towards men is pleasing" (l. 13–15). That the king's name is engraved on the vessels of the temple of Hadad (l. 16–17) means that his name is always mentioned when these holy vessels are in cultic use. Hence, the king's name is closely linked to the cult of Hadad. Should a hostile king remove the king's name from the cultic vessels, the storm-god would cause the end of his dynasty and bring about serious trouble for his population. These futility curses are well-known in the Ancient Near East; in the case of the Tall Faḫarīya inscription, the realization of the curses is ascribed to Hadadsikāni, the protector of the king.<sup>14</sup> A clear contradiction is hereby established: One the one hand, the storm-god Hadad is the god who brings about well-being and fertility for gods and men; on the other, he can deny all this to the adversaries of his protégé, King Hadda-yithʿī.

The only divine names which occur besides Hadad are those of the goddess Šuwala and the god Nergal. Contrary to what has often been claimed, the Aramaic text does not mention the goddess Šala as the paredros of the god Hadad, thus displaying a divine couple at the head of Sikāni's pantheon. The correct reading of the female divine name is Šuwala, a goddess of the netherworld.15 King Hadda-yithʿī says about Hadad and Šuwala that they shall not accept bread and his water from the hand of the king who removes Hadda-yithʿi's name from the vessels of the temple of Hadad. As water and bread are the basic elements of mortuary offerings, this part of the inscription deals

See esp. Greenfield/Shaffer 1983; Morrow 2017; Quick 2018, 68–158; Niehr 2021a, 169–170.

See Lipiński 1994, 31–33; Lipiński 2009a; Lipiński 2009b, 134.246–247; Niehr 2014b, 348–349.

with the cult of the dead kings. By not accepting their offerings, the cult of the dynastic ancestors is abolished, and they cannot act on behalf of the living offspring.16

The god Nergal, also, has netherworld connotations,<sup>17</sup> and the combination of Šuwala and Nergal is already attested in a Late Bronze Age ritual from Emar.<sup>18</sup>

All in all, there is a clear contrast between Hadad with his positive connotations of saviour, donor of life, guarantor of stability and well-being, and merciful royal personal god, who listens the prayer of the king worshipping him, on the one hand, and the gods Šuwala and Nergal with their negative connotation of netherworld and pestilence, on the other. Hadad represents life, whereas Šuwala and Nergal bring death. Hence, they do not carry positive epithets; nonetheless, Šuwala is called the lady of King Hadda-yithʿī (l. 18), whereas Nergal is solely referred to negatively (l. 23).

#### 2.2 Samʾal

Here, the god Hadad is first mentioned in the royal inscriptions from the reign of King Panamuwa I (ca. 790–750 BCE) onward. In the earlier inscription from Ördek Burnu (9th cent. BCE)19 and in the inscription of King Kulamuwa (ca. 840–810 BCE), Hadad is not mentioned (KAI 24).20 This does not, however, indicate Hadad's absence from Samʾal's pantheon in its early stages, as the inscription from Ördek Burnu hails from a necropolis and mentions only two dynastic gods. In turn, the inscription of King Kulamuwa is focused on royal achievements, only mentioning local and dynastic gods.

Should we include the Luwian inscriptions from the vicinity of Samʾal, then we come to the inscription from Pancarlı Höyük (10th century BCE) mentioning the stormgod Tarḫunzas as a patron deity of a Luwian dynasty. This dynasty was replaced shortly afterwards by the dynasty of the Aramaean kings of Yādiya.21 This fact clearly demonstrates continuity in the worship of the storm-god in Yādiya from the Luwian to the Aramaean period.22 The main inscription mentioning the role of Hadad is King Panamuwa I's memorial inscription. This inscription (KAI 214) is incised on the monumental statue of the god Hadad found at Gerçin, the royal necropolis situated ca. 8 km to the north of the capital Samʾal.23 The text states the following about Hadad (KAI 214, 1–9):

See Niehr 2021a, 168–169.

For Nergal, see Livingstone 1999<sup>2</sup> .

See Lipiński 2009b, 134.

For the inscription, see Lemaire/Sass 2012 and Lemaire/Sass 2013.

For the inscription, see Tropper 1993, 27–46, 153–154.

See Herrmann/van den Hout/Beyazlar 2016, 61.

See Herrmann/van den Hout/Beyazlar 2016, 69.

For the Samʾalian text and its modern translations, see Donner/Röllig 20025 , 49–50; Donner/Röllig

<sup>19733</sup> , 214–223; Tropper 1993, 54–97, 154–159; Younger 2000; Green 2010, 175–193; Fales/Grassi 2016, 166–191.

1) I am Panamuwa, son of Qarli, king of Yādiya. I raised this statue for Hadad at my necropolis.

2) The gods Hadad, El, Rešep, Rakkab-ʾel and Šamaš stood with me and into my hands did Hadad and El

3) and Rakkab-ʾel and Šamaš and Rešep give the sceptre of authority. So whatever I took hold of

4) with my hand [. . .] and whatever I requested from the gods, they gave to me. And they brought the wasteland to life

5) [. . . .] a land of barley [. . .]

6) [. . .] a land of wheat and a land of garlic

7) and a land of fruit. [. . .] They cultivated the soil and the vineyard.

8) They lived there [. . .].

9) And in my days, indeed, Yādiya ate and drank.

In these lines, the five most influential deities of the pantheon at Samʾal are listed. The supreme position is always held by Hadad, while the position of Rešep and Arq-Rešep, in particular, can change:24

Hadad and El and Rešep and Rakkab-ʾel and Šamaš (l. 2) Hadad and El and Rakkab-ʾel and Šamaš and Rešep (l. 2–3) Hadad [and] El and Rakkab-ʾel and Šamaš and Arq-Rešep (l. 11) Hadad and El and Rakkab-ʾel and Šamaš [and Rešep] (l. 18–19)

The task of these five divinities is closely linked to royal authority; by placing the sceptre in the hand of the king, he is legitimized. This is reminiscent of the famous letter of the Aleppine tradition from the first quarter of the 2nd mill. BCE describing an installation ceremony, during which the king was given the weapons, with which the storm-god had fought the sea.<sup>25</sup> Furthermore, good royal governance guaranties the welfare of the whole country. Then, the inscription continues with the king's care for his afterlife and the continuity of his dynasty (KAI 214, 13–18):

13) Hadad indeed gave [. . .] he chose me to build. And because of my dominion 14) Hadad indeed gave [. . .] to build. So I indeed built and I [erec]ted this statue of Hadad and the necropolis of Panamuwa, son of Qarli, king 15) of Yādiya, next to the statue (in) the cham[ber]. Whosoever from my sons should grasp the [scep]tre and sit on my throne and maintain power and do sacrifice 16) to this Hadad [. . .] 17) let him say: "[May] the spirit of Panamuwa [eat] with thee, and may the spirit of Panamuwa dri[nk] with thee." Let him keep remembering the spirit of Panamuwa with 18) [Had]ad.

According to this passage, the god Hadad has two important roles concerning the afterlife of the king and the continuity of the dynasty. The deceased king was divinized

Cf. also Tropper 1993, 20–21.

For this motif, see Durand 1993; Töyräänvuori 2018, 125–222; Ayali-Darshan 2020, 204–211.

after his death, being entitled to receive offerings together with Hadad. Whosoever of the deceased king's sons seized the scepter was obliged to present offerings before the spirit of his father and Hadad and several other high-ranking gods of Samʾal at the royal necropolis of Gerçin in order that Hadad's benevolence would descend upon the successor to Samʾal's throne. If he denied these offerings, then Hadad would cause him and his family harm.<sup>26</sup>

Several conclusions elucidating the local manifestation of Hadad in Samʾal can be drawn from the inscription on the statue: Hadad was the utmost god in the pantheon (KAI 214, 1–2, 11, 18; cf. also KAI 215, 22) and the god of the kingdom (KAI 214, 8–9; cf. 215, 2). Hadad ordered the king to build a necropolis for the deceased members of the dynasty (KAI 214, 1, 13–14). The royal heir was obliged to celebrate the royal cult of the dead in front of the statue of Hadad (KAI 214, 15–18, 21–22). Should this cult be neglected, then Hadad would severely punish the royal heir (KAI 214, 20–24). These insights into the position and role of Hadad in the religion and politics of the kingdom of Yādiya were deepened by the discovery of the inscription on the Katumuwa stele found in 2008 in the lower town of Samʾal.27 In its first part, the inscription in Samʾalian language says:

1) I am Katumuwa, servant of Panamuwa, who commissioned for myself (this) stele during 2) my lifetime. I placed it in my mortuary chamber and I consecrated 3) this chamber: A bull for Hadad Qarpatalli, a ram for Nikaru-4) was, a ram for Šamaš, a ram for Hadad of the vineyards, 5) a ram for Kubaba, and a ram for my spirit in this stele.

The most interesting feature of this inscription is the mention of two manifestations of the god Hadad, unknown until the stele's discovery: Hadad Qarpatalli (l. 3) and Hadad of the vineyards (l. 4), which has provoked intense discussion. As for Hadad Qarpatalli, it remains unclear, whether this Luwian epithet qrptl refers to a presently otherwise unattested place name ("Hadad of Qarpatalli"),28 or if it means "companion". 29 The Luwian background of Hadad Qarpatalli is also underlined by the gods Nikaruwas30 and Kubaba (l. 3 and 5).31 It is very likely that Hadad Qarpatalli was worshipped in the neighborhood temple to the west of Katumuwa's mortuary chapel, which was erected as an annex building to the Hadad sanctuary.32

For the royal cult of the dead at Gerçin, see Niehr 2014a, 185–187 with further literature.

For the stele and its inscription, see esp., Pardee 2014, Fales/Grassi 2016, 204–213, Herrmann 2019, Younger 2020, 7–16 and the contributions in Herrmann/Schloen (eds.) 2014.

Thus Younger 2020, 10.

Thus, e.g., Yakubovitch 2010, 396 with n. 7 and Fales/Grassi 2016, 205, 207. Consider, however, the critique from Younger 2020, 20–21.

For Nikaruwas in the Katumuwa inscription, see Masson 2010, 53 and for the god Nikaruwas in general, see Hutter-Braunsar 2020.

For Kubaba in the Katumuwa inscription, see Masson 2010, 53.

See Herrmann 2014, 53.

Hadad of the vineyards is much easier to understand; the presently unattested Aramaic form hdd krmn is a calque of Luwian tuwarsis Tarḫunzas ("Tarḫunzas of the vineyard").<sup>33</sup> This manifestation of Hadad is not only explained by several earlier and contemporaneous Hittite and Luwian texts, but also by iconographic representations of Anatolian storm-gods holding grapes in their hands.<sup>34</sup> Both texts and iconography depict Tarḫunzas as the god of fertility.

That two manifestations of Hadad, Hadad Qarpatalli and Hadad of the vineyards, are mentioned by Katumuwa does not simply display his personal piety; rather, this must be understood within the royal context of the Katumuwa stele. Katumuwa was a high-ranking official or vassal in the kingdom of Yādiya during the reign of King Panamuwa II (ca. 743–733 BCE), and Hadad was the supreme god both of the kingdom and the dynasty. Hence, the piety towards Hadad displayed by Katumuwa demonstrates his loyalty to the king and also emulates the royal cult of the dead.35

#### 2.3 Damascus

Only very scattered Aramaic epigraphic evidence can be adduced from Damascus, capital of the kingdom of Aram, none of which has been found in Damascus itself. These inscriptions, which must be ascribed to the royal chancellery of Damascus, comprise the Tel Dan inscription (KAI 309), one inscription from Nimrud and another from Arslan-Tash, and two more from Eretria and Samos respectively (KAI 311). All these hail from the era of King Hazael (ca. 843–803 BCE).36 The main insights into the storm-god Hadad and his role for the king and the kingdom are contained in the Aramaic inscription found at Tel Dan (Tall al-Qāḍi), which is ascribed to King Hazael of Damascus (KAI 310). This only fragmentarily preserved inscription says:

1) [. . . . . . . . . . . . . .] and cut [. . .] 2) [. . .] my father went up [against him when] he fought in [his] l[and]. 3) And my father lay down, he went to his [fathers]. And the king of I[s-] 4) rael entered previously in my father's land. [And] Hadad made me, myself, king. 5) And Hadad went in front of me, [and] I departed from [the] sev[en . . .] 6) of my kingdom. And I killed [seven]ty kin[gs], who harnessed thou[sands of chari-] 7) ots and thousands of horses. [I killed Jeho]ram, son of [Ahab], 8) king of Israel. And [I] killed [Ahaz]iahu, son of [Jehoram], [kin-] 9) g of the House of David. And I set [their towns into ruins and turned] 10) their land into [desolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .].

See Masson 2010, 53.

For recent overviews, see Bunnens 2006, 58–59, 163 with fig. 84–88 and Weeden 2018.

See Niehr 2014c.

For a bibliography of these inscriptions, see Niehr 2020a, 283–284, n. 4; for the royal chancellery of Damascus, see Gzella 2015, 78–93.


This inscription permits the drawing of several conclusions shedding light upon the local manifestation of Hadad at Damascus:

As it was Hadad who had made Hazael king, Hadad can be understood as the protective god of the dynasty ruling over Damascus. This hardly surprises considering that three kings of Damascus, Hadad-ʿezer I (3rd quarter 10th cent. BCE), Bar-Hadad I (ca. 900–880 BCE), and Hadad-ʿezer II (ca. 880–843 BCE) already display Hadad as theophoric element in their (throne-)names. Furthermore, the name of King Ṭāb-Rammān (end of the 10th cent. BCE), sports the most important epithet of Hadad of Damascus. That Hadad went before Hazael, demonstrates him to be a warrior god carried on a standard before the king and his army when they left for a campaign, much like the god Assur. The king's victory over his enemies and his conquests were ascribed to Hadad.

Akin to the bilingual from Tall Faḫarīya, the Tel Dan inscription also demonstrates the close relationship between the king and the god Hadad in political and military affairs. Neither a pardedros of Hadad, nor a pantheon or any other deities are mentioned in this inscription. The theme of the king's conquests and victory over his enemies being granted by his god Hadad also furnishes the background to the two booty-inscriptions with an identical text found at Eretria and in Samos respectively.38 The inscription reads (KAI 311):

(This is) What Hadad has given from Unqi to our lord Hazael in the year when our lord had crossed the river.

As for the historical context of these inscriptions, it is clear that they mention a campaign of King Hazael, which led from Damascus via the Orontes to the kingdom of Unqi (Pattina) in the lower Orontes valley. The spoils which Hazael here took belonged first and foremost to the god Hadad, who then gave some of them to King Hazael. Later on, this plunder was given as ex voto to the temple of Hadad in Damascus, from whence it was robbed and brought to Eretria and Samos.<sup>39</sup>

These three inscriptions of King Hazael evidence a close connection between Hadad and the king. This connection is also transparent in the names of kings from Damascus who lived before and after King Hazael, namely Hadad-ʿezer and

Adapted from the text and translation by Biran/Naveh 1995, 12–13. For the epigraphy, reconstruction, and different translations of the Tel Dan inscription, see esp. Biran/Naveh 1993; Biran/Naveh 1995; Lipiński 1994, 83–101; Fales/Grassi 2016, 136–143; Younger 2016, 593–597.

For the text, translation, and a commentary of these inscriptions, see Fales/Grassi 2016, 132–135 and Younger 2016, 627–630; for the two booty objects and their findspots at Eretria and Samos, see the information by Niehr 2011, 349–350.

See Lipiński 2000, 214, 389; Niehr 2011, 349–350; Fales/Grassi 2016, 132–133.

Bar-Hadad. As for this last-mentioned name, F.M. Cross submitted a plausible explanation for the royal name borne by the kings Bar-Hadad I (ca. 900–880 BCE) and Bar-Hadad II (ca. 803–775 BCE):<sup>40</sup> "We are inclined to believe that Bir-hadad is a title received as the adopted son of the god when designated crown-prince or king. The ideology of the adoption of the royal son by the patron god is well known from Canaanite (and biblical) material." <sup>41</sup> Unfortunately, in this case, we do not know the mythology behind this tradition, which could explain the concept of the king's divine sonship. Contrary to what F.M. Cross presumed, Bar-Hadad was not a title, but a royal throne-name in Damascus, which demonstrates the close connection between these kings and the god Hadad. That throne-names were bestowed in Damascus is plausible as King Bar-Hadad II was known by the name Mariʾ prior to his accession.<sup>42</sup>

As already mentioned in the introduction, the cult of Hadad in Damascus was influenced by the cult of the storm-god of Aleppo. According to the royal ideology from Aleppo in the 2nd mill. BCE, "the Addu of Aleppo was seen as the adoptive father of the king." <sup>43</sup> This ideology survived the political upheavals of 1200 BCE and traces of it can perhaps be detected in a Hieroglyphic-Luwian inscription of ca. 900 BCE according to which the king mentions "my fathers the gods" who had seated him on his father's throne (MARAŞ 1 § 2).44

Closely connected with the theme of kings as divine offspring is the topic of royal divinization after the king's demise. At Samʾal, both King Panamuwa and the royal vassal Katumuwa displayed a very close proximity to Hadad after their death (see above 2.2). In contrast to these contemporaneous sources from the 8th cent. BCE, the sources from Damascus on the relationship of the dead kings to Hadad are rather late in date. It is Flavius Josephus to whom we must turn for pertinent material in his Antiquitates Judaicae in the 1st cent. CE. He reports on the common cult of Adados and Azaelos in Damascus (AJ. 9.93–94):

Then he (Azaelos) took over the royal power himself, being a man of action and in great favour with the Syrians and the people of Damascus, by whom Adados and Azaelos who ruled after him are to this day honoured as gods because of their benefactions and the building of temples with which they adorned the city of Damascus. And they have processions every day in honour of these kings and glory in their antiquity, not knowing that these kings are rather recent and lived less than eleven hundred years ago.<sup>45</sup>

Along with King Bar-Hadad from Bit Agusi (ca. 800 BCE); cf. his inscription KAI 201.

Cross 1972, 42 n. 22.

For the discussion of throne-names at Damascus, see Younger 2016, 583–590 and Niehr 2020a, 286–289.

Töyräänvuori 2017, 252.

For the discussion, see Hawkins 2000, 263 and Niehr 2020a, 288.

For the text and its translation, see Marcus 1966, 48–51.

In this passage, Josephus tries to explain the genesis of the gods of Damascus and their cults in an euhemeristic manner. The god Hadad is easily recognized in the name Adados, while Azaelos is none other than King Hazael. This mention of a common cult of the pantheon's chief deity, Hadad, and a deceased king is reminiscent of the royal funerary cult of Samʾal in the second half of the 8th century BCE.<sup>46</sup> In Damascus, it is very likely that Bar-Hadad II, the son and successor of Hazael, was responsible for the divinization of his deceased ancestor. Josephus' source is the historian Nicholas of Damascus who was well-versed in the religious traditions of his hometown.<sup>47</sup> Thus, there is evidence of rituals from the 1st century BCE. This means that the cult of the deified King Hazael was practised in Damascus together with the cult of the god Hadad. It is very likely that this cult took place in the city's temple of Hadad.<sup>48</sup> Hadad of Damascus is known by his epithet rammon or rimmon ("thunderer"), an epithet also known in the Old Testament (2 Kgs 5:18; cf. Zach 12:11). Rammānu had previously been a divinity in his own right, but was later identified with Hadad of Damascus and thus reduced to a divine epithet excellently matching.49

The attribution of Greek votive inscriptions from Damascus to either Baʿalšamayin or Hadad is still disputed. An altar of the 2nd or 3rd century BCE found close to the House of Ananias is devoted to Θεῷ οὐρανίῳ πατρῴῳ τῷ Κυρίῳ ("God of Heaven Paternal the Lord"). This votive's divine addressee is unclear.<sup>50</sup>

A tomb inscription from Deir Kanoun near Damascus mentions a ἱερεὺ[ς] Διὸς Κεραυνί[ου] ("priest of Thundering Zeus"). The attribution of this epithet to either Baʿalšamayin or Hadad is equally possible.51

Further epithets of Hadad in Greek and in Latin from the Hellenistic-Roman period are attested outside Damascus. In an inscription from Bosra in the Hauran, Hadad of Damascus is called Zeus Damascenos.<sup>52</sup> This is further attested in an inscription from Heit in the Bashan.<sup>53</sup> In Rome and Puteoli, two inscriptions mention Jupiter Damascenus.<sup>54</sup> These epithets, Damascenos and Damascenus, demonstrate precisely which manifestation of Hadad is meant. This is especially important for cults outside the temple of Damascus. Nevertheless, there are several dedications to Zeus in the

See above ch. 2.2.

On Nicholas of Damascus, see Parmentier/Barone 2011.

See Niehr 2020a, 299–300.

For Rammānu, see Greenfield 1976, Mulder 1990–1993, Lipiński 2000, 627–630 and Schwemer 2006–2008. For Hadadrimmon in the Old Testament, see Niehr 2015b.

For the inscription and its discussion, see Niehr 2003, 101–102 and Freyberger 2006, 168–169.

For the inscription and its discussion, see Niehr 2003, 102.

IGLS XIII 1, 9013 = DB MAP S#2249; see Sourdel 1952, 44.

See Sartre-Fauriat 2015, 300 with n. 28 and fig. 22, 4.

See Freyberger 2006, 168.

Hauran, where an attribution to either Baʿalšamayin or to Hadad cannot be proven.55 There is, nevertheless, one explicit dedication in Greek of an altar to Hadad.<sup>56</sup>

As for the temple of Hadad in Damascus, the early structures of the Iron Age are completely unknown. The temple and its temenos are better known from later times. The sanctuary remained in use until the Christianization of Damascus, when it was replaced by the cathedral of St. John the Baptist.57 Unfortunately, there are no Aramaic inscriptions affording insight into the cult and the theology of Hadad in Damascus preserved from this temple. However, some Greek inscriptions from the Hellenistic-Roman period provide information, according to which Hadad is called Kyrios Zeus.58

The iconography of Hadad is preserved on coins from Damascus. Tetradrachms from the period of Antiochus XII (87–84 BCE) depict a standing god accompanied by two bulls. Under his coat the god is wearing a long garment with a solar emblem on his breast, he sports a polos on his head, and holds a bundle of ears in his left hand. These coins are replicas of the cult image in the Hadad temple in Damascus.<sup>59</sup> Furthermore, the temple of Baalbek with its statue of the god Jupiter Heliopolitanus is also of interest for the iconography of Hadad of Damascus. At Baalbek, Zeus Heliopolitanus is represented as a storm-god holding ears in his right hand and accompanied by two bulls. Thus, Zeus Heliopolitanus is a god bestowing life and fertility and a cosmic deity.<sup>60</sup> This is also the case for Hadad in Damascus.

The pantheon of Damascus comprised further deities, but only Atargatis, Adonis, Barada, and Theandrios are known by name, although the cults of further deities can be presumed. The goddess Atargatis was Hadad's paredros. Her cult image in the temple of Zeus Damascenos is also known from coins bearing replicas of it. Atargatis also wears a long garment, a veil or a crown on her head, and a lunar symbol on her breast. In her left hand, she carries a fruit or a blossom, and ears of corn stand on both sides of her.<sup>61</sup> Hadad and Atargatis are together mentioned in inscriptions from the Hauran.62 The cult of the Byblian god Adonis in Damascus is attested by a votive relief from 213/214 CE, which represents the type of the dying and rising god.<sup>63</sup> The river god Barada is only represented on coins from Damascus.64 The same applies for

See Mazzilli 2018, 64–67 and the sources and their discussion in Sartre-Fauriat/Sartre 2020a and Sartre-Fauriat/Sartre 2020b and the recension by Kubiak-Schneider 2022, 124–125.

See Sourdel 1952, 41, 51 and Mazzilli 2018, 171–172.

See Watzinger/Wulzinger 1921; Freyberger 1989; Freyberger 2006.

Jalabert 1912, 150–151.

See Haider 1996, 189–190 and Freyberger 2006, 167 with fig. 12 and 13.

For the iconography of Zeus Heliopolitanus, see Hajjar 1977; for his quality as fertility god, see Kreutz 2006, 174–177; for the Sursock statue, see Bel 2012; for the lead figurines from Baalbek, see Hitzl/Kurzmann/Niehr/Petersen 2015.

See Haider 1996, 190 and Freyberger 2006, 168 with fig. 14 and 15.

See Sourdel 1952, 39–42 and Sartre-Fauriat 2015, 297–298 with n. 9.

See Seyrig 1950.

See Haider 1996, 193.

Tyche in Damascus, who is also only found on coins.65 Only once attested in Damascus is Theandrios, whose altar was found in the precinct of the Hadad temple.<sup>66</sup> The cult of Theandrios is better known from the Hauran.<sup>67</sup>

### 3 Conclusion

A superficial examination of the religion of the Aramaeans in Syria and Anatolia garners the impression that each of the Aramaean kingdoms had its own storm-god, Hadad, at the head of its pantheon, implying the cult of about a dozen different Hadads all over Syria and Anatolia. In order to understand this fact, two approaches can be adduced.

The first approach departs from the manifold manifestations of Hadad. A comparable phenomenon is given with the cult of the god Baʿalšamem in Phoenicia and in Syria. O. Eissfeldt explained the spread of his cult in the following manner: "Offenbar wurde der eine Baʿalšamēm an seinen verschiedenen Kultstätten doch als jeweilig besondere Größe empfunden, nicht anders als Jahwe, der auch mehrere Jahwes, etwa den in Hebron, umfaßt, so daß das Deuteronomium mit dem Satz 'Jahwe unser Gott, ist ein Jahwe' seine Einheit einschärfen muß, oder wie die Maria der katholischen Kirche, die für den Glauben des Volkes in Lourdes eine andere ist als in Loreto und sonstwo." <sup>68</sup> Applied to the cultic situation in Syria and Anatolia, there was one stormgod Hadad at the outset, who later on underwent a differentiation for reasons no longer known to us.

More convincing, however, is a second approach. According to this, a variety of local storm-gods was worshipped in Syria in the 2nd mill. BCE. In the wake of the Aramaization of Syria from the 12th cent. BCE onward, which implied the construction of an Aramaean identity<sup>69</sup> and the spread of the Aramaic language,<sup>70</sup> these local stormgods were identified with the dominant storm-god Hadad, or they were replaced by the victorious storm-god of the Aramaean conquerors. The common denominator of this procedure is the "thundering" of the storm-god, which supported the Aramaization of the different local storm-gods. We must, nevertheless, remember that in spite of this Aramaization, all these manifestations of Hadad had still preserved their own specific cult places and also statues displaying their various visual differences.

See Balty 1986.

See Saad 2018.

See Sourdel 1952, 78–81 and Mazzilli 2018, 165.

Eissfeldt 1963, 176; see also Allen 2015, 59–70.

See Bunnens 2016 and Bunnens 2019.

See Gzella 2015.

# Bibliography


Balty, Jean-Charles (1986), "Damascos", in: LIMC III, 1, 322–323; III, 2, 242–243.

Bel, Nicolas (2012), Jupiter Héliopolitain, Paris.


Greenfield, Jonas C. (1976), "The Aramaic God Ramman / Rimmon", in: Israel Exploration Journal 26, 195–198.

Greenfield, Jonas C. (1993), "The Aramean God Hadad", in: Eretz-Israel 24, 54–61.

Greenfield, Jonas C. (1999<sup>2</sup> ), "Hadad", in: DDD, 377–382.


Hawkins, John D. (2000), Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions I, 2. Inscriptions of the Iron Age. Text. Amuq, Aleppo, Hama, Tabal, Assur Letters, Miscellaneous, Seals, Indices (UISK 8, 1), Berlin / New York.


Lipiński, Edward (1994), Studies in Aramaic Inscriptions and Onomastics II (OLA 57), Leuven.


Lipiński, Edward (2009b), Resheph. A Syro-Canaanite Deity (OLA 181), Leuven / Paris / Walpole, MA.

Livingstone, Alasdair (19992 ), "Nergal", in: DDD, 621–622.

Marcus, R. (1966), Josephus. With an English Translation in Nine Volumes. Jewish Antiquities, Books IX-XI (Loeb Classical Library Josephus VI), London / Cambridge, Mass.


Mulder, Martin J. (1990–1993), "rimmôn", in: ThWAT 7, 528–532.

Niehr, Herbert (2003), Baʿalšamen. Studien zu Herkunft, Geschichte und Rezeptionsgeschichte eines phönizischen Gottes (StudPhoen XVII; OLA 12), Leuven.

Niehr, Herbert (2007), Aramäischer Aḥiqar (JSHRZ.NF II, 2), Gütersloh.

Niehr, Herbert (2011), "König Hazael von Damaskus im Licht neuer Funde und Interpretationen", in: Erasmus Gaß / Hermann-Josef Stipp (eds.), "Ich werde meinen Bund mit euch niemals brechen!" (Ri 2,1). Festschrift für Walter Groß zum 70. Geburtstag (HBS 62), Freiburg, 339–356.

Niehr, Herbert (2014a), "Religion", in: Herbert Niehr (ed.), The Aramaeans in Ancient Syria (HdO I, 106), Leiden / Boston, 127–303.

Niehr, Herbert (2014b), "Unterwelt, Unterweltsgottheiten. D. Nordwestsemitisch", in: RlA XIV, 348–350.

Niehr, Herbert (2014c), "The Katumuwa Stele in the Context of Royal Mortuary Cult at Samʾal", in: Virginia R. Herrmann / John D. Schloen (eds.), In Remembrance of me. Feasting with the Dead in the Ancient Middle East (OIMP 37), Chicago, 57–60.


Niehr, Herbert (2020b), "Strategies of Legitimation of the Aramaean Kings in Ancient Syria: Three Case Studies on Damascus, Hamath and Yādiya/Samʾal", in: Elisabeth Wagner Durand / Julia Linke (eds.), Tales of Royalty. Notions of Kingship in Visual and Textual Narration in the Ancient Near East, Boston / Berlin, 165–183.

Niehr, Herbert (2021a), "Die Beterstatue von Tell Fekheriye als Dokument der Königsideologie des Herrschers Haddayisʿi von Bīt Baḫiāni", in: Renate van Dijk-Coombes / Liani C. Swanepoel / Gideon R. Kotzé (eds.), From Stone Age to Stellenbosch. Studies on the Ancient Near East in Honour of Izak (Sakkie) Cornelius (ÄAT 107), Münster, 163–177.

Niehr, Herbert (2021b), "Hadad", in: EDPC II, 1, 122–124.

Pardee, Dennis (2014), "The Katumuwa Inscription", in: Herrmann, Virginia R. / Schloen, John D. (eds.), In Remembrance of me. Feasting with the Dead in the Ancient Middle East (OIMP 37), Chicago, 45–48.

Parmentier, Édith / Barone, Francesca P. (2011), Nicolas de Damas. Histoires, Recueil de Coutumes, Vie d'Auguste, Autobiographie, Paris.

Quick, Laura (2018), Deuteronomy 28 and the Aramaic Curse Tradition, Oxford.

Radner, Karen (2005), Die Macht des Namens. Altorientalische Strategien zur Selbsterhaltung (SANTAG 8), Wiesbaden.

Saad, Houmam (2018), "A New Place of Worship Dedicated to Zeus Theandrios inside the Temple Precinct of Damascene Jupiter", in: Jeanine Abdul Massih / Shinichi Nishiyama (eds.), Archaeological Explorations in Syria 2000–2011. Proceedings of the ISCACH-Beirut 2015, Oxford, 65–72.

Sartre-Fauriat, Annie (2015), "Nouveaux dieux et dieux nouveaux dans le Hauran (Syrie du Sud) à l'époque romaine", in: Michael Blömer / Achim Lichtenberger / Rubina Raja (eds.), Religious Identities in the Levant from Alexander to Muhammed. Continuity and Change, Turnhout, 297–312.


Schwemer, Daniel (2001), Die Wettergottgestalten Mesopotamiens und Nordsyriens im Zeitalter der Keilschriftkulturen, Wiesbaden.


Töyräänvuori, Joanna (2017), "The Royal Adoption Scene in Ugaritic and Biblical Texts", in: Olga Drewsnowska / Małgorzata Sandowicz (eds.), Fortune and Misfortune in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the 60th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Warsaw 21–25 July 2014, Winona Lake, 247–257.


# Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge Demeter as Thesmophoros: What Does She Bring Forth?

Abstract: The onomastic attribute Thesmophoros given to Demeter, and generally shared by her daughter, is set here against the background of her "onomastic landscape" in archaic and classical evidence. A chronological focus is applied in order to understand, without any risk of anachronism or unclear contexts, what the onomastic attributes of Demeter tell us about her competences in the archaic and classical periods and the relative weight of the title Thesmophoros in this group. This is the subject of the first part of the present paper, with a short evocation of Demeter's archaic profile. The second part, rooted in the same chronological context, attempts to grasp the scope of the thesmos-compound in the name. For more than a century, a large number of authors have addressed the meaning of thesmophoros and Thesmophoria, as a brief overview of the scholarship shows. Without claiming to renew the understanding of the term from top to bottom, this paper tries to refine it by taking into account, more than others have done previously, the archaic anchoring of the term thesmos, in particular in comparison with nomos, another word for "law".

# Introduction

As Nilsson stated more than a century ago,1 the Thesmophoria was "by far the most widespread of all Greek festivals". <sup>2</sup> In his time, he was able to provide a list of just over twenty places where the festival itself (sometimes hidden behind the corresponding month name3 ), the cult-title Thesmophoros or a Thesmophorion was evidenced. In 2005, a list of sanctuaries considered as Thesmophoria included over 70 places, identified with more or less certainty, in the whole Greek world.4 Even if the list was probably too generous, it showed that archaeological excavations had considerably expanded the inventory of the sanctuaries of Demeter and her daughter. Unfortunately, our understanding of the worship itself has not expanded as far as the number of sacred places on the map. The textual material has hardly increased since Nilsson's seminal work, but new methods of approaching Greek religion, in particular socio-political and anthropological

I warmly thank Corinne Bonnet and her team for their invitation and the fruitful discussions at each step of the present analysis. My gratitude goes also to Jan-Mathieu Carbon for polishing my English with patience, as always: I am of course responsible for the final version.

Nilsson 1906, 313: "Die Thesmophorien sind das bei weitem verbreiteste aller griechischen Feste."

Θεσμοφορίων / Θεσμοφόριος: Trümpy 1997, index s.v.

Kozlowski 2005, Annexe 1.

analysis, as well as gender studies, have made it possible to multiply the points of view on a cult that was long confined to the primitivist and global vision of "fertility". 5

Here, this complex cult will be addressed to a limited extent and from a specific angle commanded by the MAP project: the onomastic attribute Thesmophoros given to Demeter, and generally shared by her daughter, set against the background of her "onomastic landscape" in archaic and classical evidence. Attestations that appear in texts after the end of the fourth century BCE have been deliberately excluded: this implies leaving aside the most important resources for onomastic attributes, namely Pausanias' Periegesis and the Roman and Byzantine lexicons, as well as going without, e.g. Callimachus' Hymn to Demeter, or the fragments of Philochorus. The over-representation of poetry in the literary corpus of this time is not a problem in the present perspective. The chronological focus is applied in order to understand, without any risk of anachronism or unclear contexts, first, what the onomastic attributes of Demeter tell us about her competences in the archaic and classical periods and, secondly, the relative weight of the title "Thesmophoros" in this group. This will be the subject of the first part of the present paper, with a short evocation of Demeter's archaic profile. The second part, rooted in the same chronological context, tries to grasp the scope of the thesmoscompound in the name. For more than a century, a large number of authors have addressed the meaning of thesmophoros and Thesmophoria, as a brief overview of the scholarship will show. Without claiming to renew the understanding of the term from top to bottom, the following considerations try to refine it by taking into account, more than others have, the archaic anchoring of the term thesmos, in particular in comparison with nomos, another word for "law". 6

# 1 Onomastic Attributes: Thesmophoros Among the Others

Demeter does not belong to the top four of Greek deities with onomastic attributes, which are Zeus, Apollo, Artemis and Athena. She finds her place in the following

In a huge bibliography, I pinpoint the still useful inventory of Farnell 1907, 311–376, and his cautious remarks on nineteenth-century interpretations of Demeter's cults; the seminal work of Brumfield 1981 (about Athens); the short synthesis of Burkert 1985, 242–246 (with a bibliographical update in the French translation: Burkert 2011). Some papers have deepened and broadened our perception of the festival, such as Detienne 1979, Versnel 1993, and Lowe 1998. See also the interesting insights of Nixon 1995, Foxhall 1995, and Chlup 2007. Parker 2005, 270–283, remains one of the best and most useful analyses of the Athenian dossier – as often, Athens has yielded the best evidenced version of the festival.

This paper is part of a broader reflection on the notion of 'norm' in archaic Greece, held in courses given at the Collège de France from 2020 to 2022 (URL: https://www.college-de-france.fr/site/vincianepirenne-delforge/\_course.htm).

group, with Aphrodite, Dionysos, Hera, Herakles, Hermes and Poseidon,7 but not necessarily in the upper part of the list. As far as their semantic content is concerned (apart from honorific and anthropomorphic designations<sup>8</sup> ), Demeter's onomastic attributes, whether they come from literary texts or inscriptions, are overwhelmingly tied to agricultural labour and its products.9

#### 1.1 A Hexametric Profile Beyond the Epithets

Indeed, her most ancient profile in hexametric poetry<sup>10</sup> makes Demeter the goddess whose main power is to cover the earth with "long ears of corn" and make "its rich furrows loaded with grain upon the ground". <sup>11</sup> Food provided by agriculture is at the core of her divine competence in the epics, as attested by the poetic formula the "grain of Demeter" <sup>12</sup> defining the human diet.13 Since she is not one of the divine protagonists of the Trojan War, the Iliad does not provide other elements to build a comprehensive picture of the goddess. Stereotypical epic formulas or comparisons do little to refine the understanding of a deity.<sup>14</sup> The only narrative allusion provided by the poem is the presence of Demeter in the catalogue of Zeus' sexual escapades, which he recites to Hera in Book 14 in order to express his intense desire for her – higher than for all his previous partners, including . . . herself.<sup>15</sup>

In the Odyssey, we meet Demeter only once, when Calypso complains to Hermes that male gods cannot stand goddesses mating with mortal men.<sup>16</sup> One of her two examples is the union of Demeter and the hero Iasion "in the thrice-ploughed fallow land". As soon as Zeus learns of it, he strikes the goddess' partner down. Unfortu-

Lebreton 2019, 143 n. 8.

See below.

The Attic dossier of the MAP database, the achievements of the BDEG (https://epiclesesgrecques.univrennes1.fr/ consulted in May 2022), the inventory of Bruchmann in Epitheta deorum (1893), and the list in Farnell 1907, form the basis for a global approach to Demeter's epithets. The list provided by Nilsson in his book Griechische Feste (1906, 311–312) mixes (without references) all types of texts and all periods, as in Cole 2000, 136.

I do not address the question of an Ur-Demeter before our first textual evidence, i.e. the epic poems (Linear B tablets are mute in this respect: Rougemont 2005, 330 and n. 18). Much ink has already been spilled on the question of "origins" and the goddess is no exception.

h.Cer. 455–456 (trans. H.G. Evelyn-White, Loeb Classical Library).

Δημήτερος ἀκτήν: Hom. Il. 13.322, 21.76; Hes. Op. 466, 597, 805.

In Il. 13.321–323, the definition of a human involves mortality, fragility against attacks by bronze and by stones, and the fact of eating the "grain of Demeter".

A comparison between the Achaean army on the battlefield and the winnowing of the corn on the sacred threshing floor, "when blond Demeter amid the driving blasts of wind separates the grain from the chaff" (Hom. Il. 5.499–502).

Hom. Od. 14.326.

Hom. Od. 5.125–128.

nately, the details of the story escape us, except the fact that Iasion is probably the brother of Dardanos, the founder of Troy.17 At the end of the Theogony, Hesiod, singing the goddesses "who lay with mortal men and bore children like gods", places the union of Demeter and Iasion first in his catalogue. The "thrice-ploughed fallow" comes back and, this time, is situated in the rich land of Crete. The goddess gives birth to Ploutos, a benevolent (but rather elusive) divine figure providing wealth and riches to whomever meets him, both over land and sea.<sup>18</sup> In the Hesiodic Works and Days, as expected in such a poem, the farmer must pray to Demeter and Zeus Chthonios at the appropriate times in order to avoid hunger and famine.<sup>19</sup>

The other child of Demeter is more consistent in our evidence: the goddess Persephone abducted by Hades with the blessing of Zeus, the girl's father. The Theogony is the first testimony (for us) of the link between Demeter and Persephone;20 this occurs in the catalogue of Zeus' divine partners, after his victory over Typhon. In the genealogical perspective drawn by Hesiod, divine children and their competences are essential in the ordering of the cosmos over which Zeus now presides. Among them, the daughter of Demeter becomes the wife of Hades and the queen of the dead. This is also the role attributed to Persephone in the Homeric epic, without any link made with her mother in this context.<sup>21</sup> Closely and solely associated to Hades, once called "Zeus Katachthonios", <sup>22</sup> Persephone here is the powerful and terrible mistress of the Underworld. In the Dios Apate episode in Book 14, to which I referred above, when Zeus provides a list of his previous partners to his wife Hera, Demeter appears alongside Leto (and Hera herself is mentioned at the end), but in neither case are the children of these unions mentioned, whereas the offspring of the five mortal women who open the list were.<sup>23</sup> Nevertheless, we can suspect that Persephone, along with Apollo and Artemis, are implied behind these verses. An interesting parallel can be drawn between the divine part of this Homeric catalogue and the succession of Zeus' unions with goddesses of his own generation in the Theogony: in both passages Demeter,

Gantz 1993, 64, 215, and 560. A scholion on Apollonius Rhodius (AD 1.916) refers to the death by lightning of Eetion, "who they name Iasion". The report claims that he was struck (by Zeus?) because he had "violated" an agalma of Demeter (φασὶ κεραυνωθῆναι αὐτὸν ὑβρίζοντα ἄγαλμα τῆς Δήμητρος). The scholion is generally considered as a fragment of Hellanikos (fr. 23 Fowler, with his commentary on the other traditions: Fowler 2013, 522–523).

Hes. Th. 969–974. According to Hesychius (ε 7077, s.v. εὔπλουτον κανοῦν), the word designated "abundance that comes from barley and wheat".

Hes. Op. 465–466: εὔχεσθαι δὲ Διὶ χθονίῳ Δημήτερί θ' ἁγνῇ | ἐκτελέα βρίθειν Δημήτερος ἱερὸν ἀκτήν.

Hes. Th. 912–914.

Hom. Il. 9.457, 569 (curses of Meleager's mother); Od. 10.491–494, 509, 534, 564; 11.47, 217, 226, 386, 635 (Odysseus' katabasis).

Hom. Il. 9.457: Ζεύς τε καταχθόνιος καὶ ἐπαινὴ Περσεφόνεια.

Hom. Il. 14.317–328.

Leto, and finally Hera, the god's "ultimate spouse", are listed in this same order.<sup>24</sup> The presence of Demeter in both accounts attests to the importance of Zeus' union with his other sister, probably as the precondition of the birth of Hades' future wife, even though, as already mentioned, there is no explicit reference to Demeter's motherhood in the Iliad.

Nevertheless, Demeter's proper name makes her the divine mother par excellence. However, as Walter Burkert rightly said, "exactly what kind of mother remains a mystery", since the first two letters, δη/δα, are still puzzling despite all of the efforts to solve the riddle.<sup>25</sup> Whatever the original meaning of the goddess' full name, narratives and cults recurrently place her in close relationship with her daughter, sanctioning her status as "mother" of Persephone, who is the divine kore par excellence in the context of her cults.<sup>26</sup> In Homer and Hesiod, Hades' wife receives her proper name, as well as in the first preserved evidence telling the whole story, the famous Homeric hymn to Demeter. Dated to the seventh or sixth century BCE,27 the poem has been extensively analysed and interpreted as the "charter-myth" of the Eleusinian mysteries or, less often, the Thesmophoria.<sup>28</sup> It can also be seen as an important piece of evidence regarding the establishment of the present order of the divine world, a kind of narrow focus against the background of broader theogonic processes.

The hymn tells of the rape and recovery of Kore-Persephone, of how her mother wandered the earth in search for her, and of how she settled in Eleusis, where, hired as a nurse, she failed to immortalise Demophon, the son of the local king and queen. Then, she commanded the construction of a temple where she retired and began a strike that threatened humanity with extinction and risked depriving the gods of their honours. Finally, a reconciliation with Zeus occurs and Kore-Persephone is ordered to "go down for the third part of the circling year to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts should live with her mother and the other immortal gods" (v. 445–447). In the same movement, the revelation of Demeter's mysteries takes place at Eleusis. Under the au-

On these lists, see Pironti (forthcoming) and Pirenne-Delforge/Pironti 2022, 33 n. 92, and 241–242.

Burkert 1985, 159 (and the update in Burkert 2011). See e.g. Farnell 1907, 29–30; Nilsson 1955<sup>2</sup> , 461–462; Simon 2021 [1969], 95; Petersmann 1987, 175–181.

Cf. the invocation of Lasos of Hermione (6th c. BCE), in close connection with the cult of divine mother and daughter in his city: "I sing Demeter, and Kore, the spouse of Klymenos", below, note 111. Compare in Attica, the close relationship between Demeter and her daughter, which is marked by the well-known use of the dual: e.g. CGRN 8, line 5 (early 5th c. BCE): Θεοῖν, "to the Two goddesses".

Parker 1991, 6: ". . . probably somewhere between 650 and 550". Cf. Richardson 1974, 5–12.

See the opposite positions of Clinton and Parker, both excellent connoisseurs of Eleusis and Athens: Clinton 1986 connects the hymn with the Thesmophoria; Parker 1991 argues for a connection with the Mysteries. See the reply of Clinton 1992, 28–37. Cf. Suter 2002 (with the review of André Motte in L'Antiquité Classique 74, 2005, 404–408) and Stallsmith 2008, 119, about Thesmophoria, and Bremmer 2014, 10, about Mysteries. As stated by Parker 2005, 274, n. 19: "The same myth provides the aetiological background to both Thesmophoria and Eleusinian mysteries, though the telling of it in Hymn. Hom. Dem. is much more closely directed to Mysteries than to Thesmophoria."

thority of Zeus, the prerogatives of the goddess and her daughter are defined for the latter (Queen of the Underworld), reiterated and extended for the former. The growth of cereals is a central element of Demeter's divine intervention in the world. However, if we extend the analysis in three directions, we can broaden the scope of its competences.

The notion of trophos, "nourishment", commands the first perspective. Demeter is the nurturer of humans par excellence: after humanity is supposed to have left the golden age or the remote times characterized by a form of animality or savagery, according to various conceptions, cereals form the basis of human food – cultivated and not spontaneously offered by nature.29 Gods "do not eat grain", as Homer sings,30 and Demeter's action is directly centred on mortals. This is why she fails to immortalise Demophon and rescue him from his condition.<sup>31</sup> However, Demeter's action on grain growth is essential to the gods too, since the latter need men's offerings to be fully gods. Introducing herself as a goddess in the hymn, she declares: "I am Demeter, holder of honour (timaochos), who provides the greatest help and delight to the undying gods and mortal men." <sup>32</sup> Both categories – gods and humans – are concerned by her gifts.

The second direction to be explored is the relationship "mother/daughter", which is a specific component of Demeter's profile. This strong link in an exclusive feminine sphere is an exception in divine genealogies, where the relationship "mother/son" is much more often emphasised. Just think about the other goddesses whom the Theogony describes as "mothers" in the narrative parts of the poem, namely Gaia and Rhea: both goddesses are intimately associated with the fate of a son, Kronos for the former, Zeus for the latter.33 This is important when one considers that the Thesmophoria is an exclusively female event.

The third perspective to embrace for addressing Demeter's prerogatives is the specific quality of the black humus, the χθών, in which the gifts of Demeter are rooted. The materiality of the substance is self-evident, but it is also a symbolically powerful interface between the "epichthonian" world of human beings, who eat bread and die, and the "katachthonian" world of the dead. The Homeric hymn to Demeter precisely depicts the extension of Demeter's prerogatives in both directions: she remains the tutelary deity of agriculture but, through her daughter's experience, she receives powers over the "katachthonian", as well as the "epichthonian". <sup>34</sup> In the mysteries of Eleusis and other ceremonies where she is so often associated with Kore, the

On these contradictory visions of the past, see Bruit Zaidman 2001, 195–200. It is no coincidence that in Callimachus' Hymn to Demeter, the goddess punishes Erysichthon ("he who splits the earth") for his impiety with insatiable hunger.

Hom. Il. 5.341.

Jaillard 2005, 57: "le processus . . . est de lui-même voué à l'échec." Cf. Clay 1989, 225–226; Parker 1991, 9–11.

h.Cer. 268–269 (trans. H.G. Evelyn-White, slightly modified).

Hes. Th. 169–170 (Gaia), 460 (Rhea), 914 (Demeter). On this topic, see Pirenne-Delforge 2008.

Cf. Jaillard 2005, 62: "La terre n'est pas dans la pensée grecque archaïque une entité homogène." See also Georgoudi 2002.

ritualization of this link is, in one way or another, under the seal of secrecy, at the core of the celebration.35

#### 1.2 A Landscape of Names

In the hexametric poetry from which we have started,<sup>36</sup> the epithets of Demeter are the following, mainly attested in the Homeric hymn in her honour:




Hes. Th. 300; Op. 300; h.Cer. 224, 307, 384, 470.


The full justification of this statement will find place elsewhere.

Hes. Op. 465; h.Cer. 203, 439. Cf. Archil. fr. 322.1 West.

e.g. Athena: Hom. Od. 7.41; Eos: Hom. Od. 5.390; Calypso: Hom. Od. 7.246; Circe: Hom. Od. 10.136; Nymphs: Hom. Od. 12.132; Artemis: Hom. Od. 20.80; Charites: h.Ap. 194; Maia: h.Merc. 4.

Artemis: Hom. Il. 21.511; ἐυστέφανος Κυθέρεια: Hom.; Od. 8.267, 288; 18.193; Hes. Th. 196, 1008; h. Ven. 6, 175, 286; Nereid: Hes. Th. 255.


We must not neglect the formulaic dimension in the usage of these terms and their applicability to other figures than Demeter. It is evident from the list that generic epithets


 Hom. Il. 500; h.Cer. 301. We can consider that the colour of wheat is not unrelated to this quality of the goddess's hair: cf. Opp. C. 1.434.

 In Pindar (N. 5.54), the Charites are xanthai. In Euripides (Med. 834), Harmonia is xanthe. On the blond hair of Demeter and the golden hair of Apollo, see Grand-Clement 2021; Agora XIX, H10 = IG I 3 1053 = DB MAP S#2368 (5th c. BCE) attests that Apollo can be "blond": hόρο|ς hιε|ρõ Ἀπ|όλλων|ος Ξαν|θõ (I thank S. Lebreton for this reference).

Hes. Th. 912.


 e.g. Hera (βοῶπις πότνια Ἥρη): Hom. Il. 1.551, 568, etc.; h.Ap. 309, etc.; Hebe: Hom. Il. 4.2; Enyo: Hom. Il. 592; Athena: Hom. Il. 6.305; Artemis: Hom. Il. 21.470; Calypso: Hom. Od. 1.14; Circe: Hom. Od. 8.448; Leto: h.Ap. 12; Maia: h.Mer. 19; Hestia: h.Ven. 24; Eos: h.Ven. 223; Tethys: Hes. Th. 368; Peitho: Hes. Op. 73.

h.Cer. 1, 486: the first occurrences of the adjective semnos in our corpus.

h.Cer. 486: σεμναί τ' αἰδοῖαί τε.

h.Cer. 268.

Hom. Il. 14.326.

e.g. Thetis: Hom. Il. 18.407; Ariane: Hom. Il. 18.592; Circe: Hom. Od. 220; Leto: h.Ap. 101.

h.Cer. 251, 295.

Cf. Tyrt. fr. 2.12: αὐτὸς γὰρ Κρονίων καλλιστεφάνου πόσις Ἥρης.

h.Cer. 453.

h.Cer. 4 (in combination with ἀγλαόκαρπος).

Hom. Il. 5.509; 15.256; h.Ap. 123, 395; Hes. Th. 771.

In combination with ἀγλαόδωρος: h.Cer. 54, 192, 492.

If the hexameter Orph. Fr. 302 Kern (= D.S. 1.12.4) is archaic, we can add πλουτοδοτείρα ('she who gives riches') to the list.

associated with hair, ankles, crown (with the exception of kallistephanos) or sovereign dignity are widely shared. This is no surprise at all. However, the list does bring out some exclusive epithets which could be thematic voluntary choices and not just interchangeable hexametric formulae.74 This is the case for three exclusive onomastic attributes: aglaodoros, aglaokarpos, and horephoros. The first two are variations on the theme of giving cereals to men, and the third, in the Hymn to Demeter, refers very appropriately to the passage of the seasons that punctuate the vegetal cycle emphasised by Kore's journey to and from the Underworld.75 To this group of three attributes, we can add poluphorbe, significantly shared with the earth, an epithet highlighting the alimentary dimension of her gifts, in their full application.76

In the literary evidence from other genres and periods, the range of onomastic attributes extends, but if we stop the inventory at the end of the classical period, the harvest is not so abundant, beyond a simple repetition of previous hexametric formulas:77

Exclusive epithets of Demeter in poetry


Kuanopeplos makes perfect sense in the Hymn to Demeter, where its recurrent use is closely related to grief and anger. The attribution of the same epithet to Leto in the Theogony remains puzzling. For a tentative explanation, see Deacy/Villing 2009, 117–118 and, more convincingly, Grand-Clément 2011, 128.

The return of Kore-Persephone in spring corresponds to the return of vegetation after the winter months. She is not the "Corn-daughter", as intended by Nilsson 19552 , 466, who read Demeter's name as "Corn-mother". The relationship between seasons and Kore's journeys is looser than a strict agrarian calendar would imply.

I would be tempted to add chrusaoros to this list. The instrument to which the epithet refers could be a "golden sickle" rather than a "golden sword". On this hypothesis, already raised by Preller and Welcker, see the discussion in Richardson 1974, 139–141.

These few formulas are not reprised here.

Ar. Ra. 385–386.

Soph. fr. 981 Radt, quoted (i.a.) by Photios, α 435, s.v. Ἀζησία (οὕτως ἡ Δημήτηρ παρὰ Σοφοκλεῖ καλεῖται· οἱ δὲ τὴν εὐτραφῆ, i.e. 'the fact of being well-fed'). Cf. Hsch. α 1468, s.v. Ἀζησία (ἡ Δημήτηρ· ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀζαίνειν τοὺς καρπούς); Zenobius 4.20: . . . ἱστορεῖ Δίδυμος, ὅτι Ἀμαία μὲν ἡ Δημήτηρ παρὰ Τροιζηνίοις προσαγορεύεται, Ἀζησία δὲ ἡ Κόρη . . ..

Ar. Ach. 709.

Ar. Th. 286. Cf. Ra. 336: ὦ πότνια πολυτίμητε Δήμητρος κόρη.

Antim. fr. 96 Kinkel, quoted by Str. 8.5.3.

Antim. fr. 28 Kinkel, quoted by Pausanias (8.25.4) who attributes to Antimachos's verse a link with the goddess honoured in the Arcadian city of Thelphousa.


#### In prose


When the same type of inventory is made in epigraphy, until the end of the fourth century BCE, one finds:96


Hdt. 7.200 (sanctuary of Anthela, at the Thermopylai).

Hdt. 9.57 (sanctuary at Plataia), 9.97 (sanctuary close to Cape Mycale). Cf. 9.101.

Soph. OC 1600.

Pind. fr. 37 Maehler, quoted by an anonymous life of Pindar (Vitae Pindari et varia de Pindaro, 2, 6–10 Drachmann) and, partially, by Eustathius (Prooemium commentarii in Pindari opera, 27.49 Kambylis); Ar. Th. 295 (dual: with her daughter).

Eur. Rh. 964.

Ar. Ra. 384–385. On this epithet and the gods so called, see Wallensten 2014 and Lebreton 2019. Eup. fr. 183 Kock, quoted by the scholia of Soph. OC 1600; Ar. Lys. 835 (Demeter's theonym not

explicit). Pind. fr. 37 Maehler, see above n. 85.

Hdt. 5.61 (sanctuary of the Gepyreis in Attica).

Hdt. 2.171 (festival brought to Greece by the Danaids); 6.16 (festival in Ephesos); 6.91 (temple at Aegina); 6.134 (sanctuary at Paros).

Heraclid. Pont. fr. 51a.8 Wehrli.

Xenocr. (phil.) fr. 213 Parente, quoted by Stob. 1.1.29b.

Uncertain restorations are not taken into account and the completeness of the inventory is probably not absolute.

Hesperia 4 (1935) 52–53 no. 14, with commentary = Agora XIX, H16 = IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 1825 (DB MAP S#3307; Attica, second half of 4th c. BCE).

Graf 1985, I.Ch. 13 (DB MAP S#4371; Chios, 4th c. BCE).

IG XII.7, 4 = LSCG 102, lines 4–5 (DB MAP S#14591; Amorgos, Arkesine, 4th c. BCE).


Leaving aside four mentions which deserves to be closely contextualised to be understood (amphiktionis, Boiotae, demoteles, patroia),108 the three lists show an unsurprising thematic convergence, first towards agrarian production. A second expected convergence is the recurring presence of Demeter Eleusinia and her mysteries, as well as the 'black' side of her profile met in the Homeric hymn:

CGRN 56, col. II, line 43 (DB MAP T#1298; Attica, Marathonian Tetrapolis, mid-4th c. BCE): Demeter's theonym is not explicit; CGRN 45, Face A, fr. 5, col. 1, line 14 (Athens, end of 5th c. BCE): not exactly an epithet but the locative Ἐλευσίνι; Agora XVI, 48, line 10 (DB MAP T#4121; Athens, 367/66 BC); Salviat 1979 (Thasos, 5th-4th c. BCE), associated with πατρωία (below, n. 105).

IPark 20 = LSCG Suppl. 32 (Arcadia, ca. 525 BCE: ritual norm); IGDS I 155 = IGASMG II<sup>2</sup> 46a (DB MAP S#2250; Gela [Bitalemi], 6th-5th c. BCE: dedication on a vase); IGASMG II<sup>2</sup> 46b (Gela [Bitalemi], early 5th c. BCE; graffito on a vase); SEG 64, 854, 1–4 (Locri, 4th-3rd c. BCE: dedicated tiles); IG XII.5, 134, line 12 (DB MAP T#21562; Paros, 4th c. BCE, inventory of sacred properties): only the cult-title is readable, but Kore is mentioned two lines above (10); I.Priene B – M, 195 (DB MAP S#8016; second half of the 4th c. BCE – dedicatory epigram referring to the Thesmophoroi seen in a dream: θεσμοφόρους τε ἁγνὰς ποτνίας ἐμ φάρεσι λεοκοῖς, line 3).

IG II3 .4, 1569 line 3 (DB MAP S#3860; Athenian Acropolis, mid-4th c. BCE, if the restoration is correct: [— Δήμητρ]ος καρποφό[ρου] —); compare SEG 30.169: [ἀγρ]ὸς καρποφό[ρος . . .]. Let us remark that this dedication (?) of a tithe is metrical: see DB MAP S#3860.

I.Olympia Suppl. 41 (DB MAP S#16489; Olympia, 475–450 BCE, dedication, perhaps made by a Megarian: cf. Zeus Konios on one of the two Megarian acropolis, Paus. 1.40.6).

IGDS I, 54 (DB MAP S#1863; Selinous, 475–450 BCE), and IGDS I, 78, line 5 (DB MAP T#2416; ca. 450 BCE), refer to a goddess Malophoros without theonym. The identification with Demeter is made (for us) by Pausanias visiting Megara (the mother-city of Selinous), who emphasises the possible ambiguity of the name, between "bringer of herds" and "bringer of (tree)fruits" (1.44.3). The brackets around the epithet signal the uncertain identity of the Malophoros as Demeter in the archaic and classical periods. See Stallsmith 2019, with previous bibliography.

Salviat 1979 (Thasos, 5th-4th c. BCE), associated with Ἐλευσινία.

IG IV, 683–684 (DB MAP S#9641–9642; Hermione, 5th c. BCE).

CGRN 56, col. II, line 49 (DB MAP T#1319; Attica, Marathonian Tetrapolis, mid-4th c. BCE): Demeter's theonym is not explicit; CGRN 57, line 16 (DB MAP T#146; Attica, deme of Aixone, early 4th c. BCE). By association, we can add CGRN 32, line 38 (Attica, deme of Thorikos, end of 5th or early 4th c. BCE), with the offering of a sacrifice called chloia.

This will be done elsewhere. The last two cult-titles refer to Thesmophoric cults, respectively in Arkesine on the island of Amorgos, and in Thasos (see above, notes 99 and 105).


In the middle of this landscape of words related to the two aspects of the chthon is the epithet Thesmophoros, which is absent from the hexametric poetry analysed above. Its first poetic usage occurs in a fragment of Pindar quoted by Eustathius. In a dream addressed to the poet, Demeter would have complained that she was the only deity to whom he had not yet addressed a hymn. Pindar hastened to obey, opening his hymn with the invocation "πότνια θεσμοφόρε, χρυσάνιον". <sup>112</sup> The importance of the epithet is emphasised by Pindar's choice of this invocation for a goddess expecting a hymn to her own glory. We know from Pausanias that a Thesmophorion was located somewhere in the vicinity of the acropolis and the agora of Thebes, in the so-called "house of Kadmos". <sup>113</sup> Xenophon provides the opportunity to combine both pieces of evidence, despite the huge chronological gap between them: in 382 BCE, the Theban Council had to meet on the agora because the women were occupying the Kadmeia – the acropolis – "to celebrate the Thesmophoria" (θεσμοφοριάζειν).114 All this attests to the importance and official capacities of the cult beyond Pindar's particular initiative. A few decades after Pindar, Herodotus provides a narrative in prose for the cult: it finds root in Egypt, which is the usual pattern as far as religion is concerned in his investigation.115 Then, in Athens, Aristophanes' Thesmophoriazousai brings the name to the fore in his famous comedy. Both authors, each in his own perspective, reveal the main trend of the Thesmophoric cult: a secret performance reserved to women. The terrible fate of men who have exceeded the requirement provides Herodotus two occasions to underline the specificity of the cult, in Aegina and Paros. The oldest attestations of the epithet belong

See Suys 1994, 14–19, with a very well-informed discussion, even if I do not share her conclusions. On this Megarian dossier, see Bremmer 2014, 166–179.

This "Chthonia" was Demeter honoured in Hermione (above n. 26) with Kore and Klymenos, a local figure of Hades (Lasos of Hermione, fr. 1 Page, 6th c. BCE). On this cult, with the festival Chthonia which could be connected with "Thesmophoric" practices, see Johnston 2012, especially 231–33, with note 50.

See note 85. The epithet χρυσάνιος / χρυσήνιος, "of the golden reins", is not attested for Demeter in the hexametric poetry, but for Artemis and Ares (respectively Il. 6.205, and Od. 8.285). Cf. Soph. OC 694, for Aphrodite.

Paus. 9.16.5. On the location, see Moggi/Osanna 2010, 305–306.

X. Hell. 5.2.29.

Hdt. 2.171.

to epigraphy: an Arcadian ritual norm dated from the last quarter of the sixth century BCE and a Sicilian dedication on a vase.116 If we add the name of a month associated with the Thesmophoria,117 and the presence of the cult in Greek 'colonies', <sup>118</sup> the antiquity and the centrality of this dimension of Demeter's cult can be fully reaffirmed.

The potential origin of the cult and the etymology of the name have been extensively questioned.<sup>119</sup> Our purpose, as stated above, is to situate the meaning of the term thesmophoros according to the perception that the Greeks of the archaic and classical periods may have had of it, in connection with the goddess's profile sketched in archaic poetry. As has been well established in studying other Greek deities, narratives and cults are not separate or hermetic worlds but interconnected languages.<sup>120</sup> Such a methodological statement can contribute to the present perspective since it invites us to consider the meaning of the epiclesis in relation to the narrative profile of Demeter. From this point of view, a goddess as "bearer of laws" or "legislator" hardly makes sense in archaic times, even if the cult-title was in this way explained later.121

### 2 To What Does Thesmos Refer in Thesmophoros?

Various hypothesis and ingenious theories has been advanced for decades as to the meaning of the festival name and the cult-title of Demeter and her daughter.122 Two main trends emerge from this bibliography. The first sees "laws" behind the term, whether it be the rules of agriculture, those of procreation, or even of marriage.<sup>123</sup> The second refutes the abstract dimension of the word because of the component ‑phoros ("who brings forth", "who carries", "who bears") and favours a concrete meaning, related to objects that worshippers would carry up to the sanctuary or to the rotted remains of piglet and cakes, which were thrown into pits and collected during the festival by women designated for this purpose.124

See above note 101.

Trümpy 1997, index s.v.

e.g. Gela and Locri: see above, n. 101.

e.g. Trümpy 2004, with previous bibliography.

Cf. the methodological introduction of Pirenne-Delforge/Pironti 2022, 1–6.

Call. 6.18; D.S. 1.14.4; schol. Luc. D.Meretr. 2.1 Rabe (p. 276.25–28): "Demeter is named Thesmophoros because she established (τιθεῖσα) nomoi or thesmoi according to which men must work to get their food (τὴν τροφήν)." Cf. Ceres Legifera in Rome; see Levin 1991.

Cf. Stallsmith 2008, who gives a concise state of the art. Her paper, entitled "The Name of Demeter Thesmophoros", would have dissuaded me from taking up the subject again if she had not projected onto the archaic period the meaning of thesmos attested later (p. 123–124). See below.

Emphasised by Bachofen in his Mutterecht (1948<sup>3</sup> [1861], 381–382). Recently Stallsmith 2008; a curious balance in Levin 1991.

Thesmoi interpreted as "things laid down" (< τίθημι), i.e. the rotted piglets and cakes: from J. G. Frazer in the Encyclopedia Britannica (s.v. Thesmophoria), Nilsson 1906, 323–324, or Deubner 1932,

Abstract nouns composed with ‑phoros are occasionally attested as cult-titles or names of festivals – the main but almost only example is Nikephoros<sup>125</sup> – but such word composition is not attested in the archaic period. That argument is not definitive, but must be taken into account.126 If the notion of "law" prevails then, "marriage laws" are probably not concerned as such. In Aristophanes' comedy, Hera Teleia is invoked as the goddess of legitimate unions, not Demeter or Kore.<sup>127</sup> In the period under consideration, Demeter has little to do with marriage as such and is mainly related to agricultural products and the world of the dead, through her close link with her daughter.<sup>128</sup> Regarding the physical objects possibly used during the ritual, it has justifiably been remarked that the epithet Thesmophoros refers to the goddesses and not to the human ritual agents,<sup>129</sup> who are called thesmophoriazousai, the "women who act during the Thesmophoria". 130

Accordingly, the first precept of our investigation should be to avoid preconceived ideas. The second is not to project later data indiscriminately onto the oldest periods under consideration. Let us therefore revisit the facts for the archaic period.

Thesmos appears about ten times in the literature between Homer and Pindar. The word is used in the Odyssey – a hapax in hexametric poetry – when Penelope has finally agreed to recognise her husband. The couple return to their bedroom, as the poet sings: οἱ μὲν ἔπειτα | ἀσπάσιοι λέκτροιο παλαιοῦ θεσμὸν ἵκοντο, "they then gladly came to the thesmos of the couch that was theirs of old." <sup>131</sup> In the famous recognition scene of Book 23, Odysseus recalls that he built their matrimonial bed around an olive tree trunk rooted in the palace floor, thus making it immovable unless the olive tree itself is cut down. The passage where thesmos is used invites us to understand it as something concrete: the woodworking as a coherent whole, a tightly fitted

Cf. Robertson 1983, 245–247.

<sup>44</sup>–45, to Burkert 1985, 243 and 443 n. 25; another etymology is proposed by Trümpy 2004, but the result is the same. According to Robertson 1998, 566, the thesmoi are "the large, round baskets that typify the festival; each woman carried one with the necessities for her sanctuary sojourn." Detienne 1979, 199 n. 1, was particularly careful about the meaning of the word and did not decide on a specific interpretation.

For Athena (e.g. in the Hellenistic period: I.Knidos 177 [Knidos]; CGRN 212 [DB MAP S#14400; Pergamon]), Artemis (LSAM 33B = I.Magnesia 100b [DB MAP S#9449; Magnesia-on-the-Maiander, ca. 150 BCE]) and Aphrodite (Argos: Paus. 2.19.6). As Sylvain Lebreton rightly points out to me, the epithet could also refer to an iconographic type where the goddess carries a statuette of Nike in her hand, such as the Pheidian statue of Athena in Athens.

Ar. Th. 974–975, with Levin 1991, 4. Cf. also Stallsmith 2008, 129.

Unlike later: for example, in his Conjugal precepts, Plutarch opens his treaty with a reference to a priestess of Demeter taking part in a wedding ceremony (Pl. Mor. 138b).

Levin 1991, 2; Stallsmith 2008, 126.

The women collecting the rotted remains from the megara are called antletriai: schol. Luc. D.Meretr. 2.1 Rabe (p. 276.3–6).

Hom. Od. 23.296–297 (trans. A.T. Murray, Loeb Classical Library, except thesmos, which is translated by "place"). Cf. Trümpy 2004, 20 n. 39.

realisation, which would have been destroyed if, as Penelope told Odysseus in order to trap him, the bed had been moved. The same concrete dimension is recognisable in a fragment of Anacreon quoted in a Homeric lexicon from the beginning of our era:132

θέσθαι ἐν τῇ Ν ῥαψῳδίᾳ τῆς Ὀδυσσείας· καὶ γὰρ ὁ θησαυρὸς θεσμὸς λέγεται, καθάπερ καὶ Ἀνακρέων λέγει "ἀπὸ δ' ἐξείλετο θεσμὸν μέγαν."

thesthai: in the 13th song of the Odyssey; because the thesauros is called thesmos, as says Anacreon: "He took (it) from his large thesmos."

The explanation refers to the use of this form of τίθημι by Odysseus, who has just arrived in Ithaca and seeks to store the goods and riches given by the Phaeacians.<sup>133</sup> The thesauros is a secure container where "treasures" can be deposited. Odysseus' bed in Book 23 is not a thesauros as such, but its association with a thesmos coheres with the meaning expected for thesauros in other contexts: a manufactured object that cannot be easily dismantled and keeps precious things. Metaphorically, the union of Odysseus and Penelope is the "treasure" kept by the bed rooted in the palace's soil.134

A generation after Anacreon, Pindar employs thesmos (in the Doric form τεθμός) several times.<sup>135</sup> The idea of a "tightly adjusted whole" is still present in his poetry, when he refers to the "tethmos of his hymn" (O. 7.88; cf. N. 4.33), a "tethmos of praise made of wreaths" (O. 13.29), or when he designates the athletic games themselves as tethmoi (O. 13.40: ἀμφιάλοισι Ποτειδᾶνος τεθμοῖσιν, i.e. the games of Poseidon "among the waves", in Isthmia; N. 10.33: ὕπατον δ' ἔσχεν Πίσα | Ἡρακλέος τεθμόν, i.e. the Olympic games founded by Heracles; cf. O. 6.69). Other occurrences can be translated as "established norm(s)": a "tethmos of the Immortals" (O. 8.25), "the Dorians under the tethmoi of Aegimos" (P. 1.64).

Going back to the early sixth century in Athens, we find the famous thesmoi of Solon in his fragment 36: "And thesmoi alike for base and noble, fitting straight justice unto each man's case, I wrote." <sup>136</sup> These are generally considered as "laws", which

Anacr. fr. 61 Page, quoted by Apollonius Soph., Lexicon Homericum, Bekker 1833, 87.21–23. Hom. Od. 13.207–208.

Compare the oaths pronounced by Hera in the Iliad (e.g. 15.36–40): she swears by the Earth, the Heaven, Styx, her husband's sacred head, "and the couch of us twain, couch of our wedded love" (trans. A.T. Murray).

Let us remark that the fragment of his hymn to Demeter and Persephone uses the Ionian form Thesmophoros and not an expected Doric form (Pindar's dialect) \*Tethmophoros or \*Thethmophoros. According to Trümpy 2004, 17, this is the sign that "unmissverständlich, . . . die Θεσμοφόρια etymologisch von θεσμός/τεθμός 'Satzung', 'Gesetz' zu trennen sind". She dissociates this thesmos from the family of τίθημι to which the 'other' thesmos, "law", would be related. In our perspective, which is not "genetic", it is difficult to consider that a Greek ear would have identified two different words already from the archaic period.

Solon, fr. 36.18–20 West<sup>2</sup> : θεσμοὺς δ' ὁμοίως τῶι κακῶι τε κἀγαθῶι | εὐθεῖαν εἰς ἕκαστον ἁρμόσας δίκην | ἔγραψα. Cf. also fr. 31 W.: πρῶτα μὲν εὐχώμεσθα Διὶ Κρονίδῃ βασιλῆι | θεσμοῖς τοῖσδε τύχην ἀγαθὴν καὶ κῦδος ὀπάσσαι.

were probably publicly displayed on a wooden structure on the Athenian acropolis. If we take into account the archaic meaning of the term in the Odyssey, it cannot be excluded that the (probably) wooden and well-fitting structure on which these instituted norms were exhibited played a role in the choice of the term designating them.137 Pindar's poetry, dated a century later, could support the hypothesis, since the concrete dimension of the word is still activated in its verses, in parallel with the abstract meaning.

Inscriptions dated to the end of the sixth or early fifth century – Pindar's period of activity – deserve to be considered against this background. A written plaque, also called the "Pappadakis bronze", comes from Aetolia or from the Naupactus region and records a "law concerning the land". <sup>138</sup> The text, which designates itself as a tethmos (τεθμὸς ὄδε περὶ τᾶς γᾶς, line 1), establishes the conditions for the distribution of land in an unallocated area. At the end, the tethmos places itself under the divine protection of Apollo Pythios and his sunnaoi theoi, which should enforce the imprecations uttered against violation (ὄδε τετθμὸς ἰαρὸς ἔστο τõ Ἀπόλλονος τõ Πυθίο καὶ τõν συνν [άον], lines 14–15). In the same inscription, another tethmos is mentioned in the context of the imprecations, which concerns homicide (τὸν ἀνδρεφονικὸν τεθμόν, lines 13–14); this was probably also a written "law". Another famous inscription from Central Greece, dated to the early fifth century and preserving the "foundation law" of Naupactus, the Locrian colony, extensively uses the term nomia (neuter plural), as well as the verb nomizein (once) and the word nomos in the expression hόπος ... νόμος ἐστί, "in accordance with traditional practice". <sup>139</sup> All these occurrences of the semantic field of nomos refers to existing practices and customs in the different communities concerned. However, when designating itself at the end, the text uses the term thethmion. <sup>140</sup> This vocabulary seems to be more a matter of contrast than of simple synonymy: thesmos is here a "marked term", compared to nomos and its cognates. What thethmion – and hence thesmos – underlines in this case is a set of dispositions in the moment of their institution as a written production.

Writing, which is so common in our world, was a new skill in archaic times, for which a man like the scribe Spensithios had to be hired in a small Cretan city at the end of the sixth century.141 A written bronze plaque, a worked stele, covered with let-

The display of these laws is a highly controversial topic. See Davis 2011, with previous bibliography, and Meyer 2016. Let us remark also that in line 16 of the same fragment, Solon sets out his method: adjusting force and justice closely to each other (βίην τε καὶ δίκην ξυναρμόσας), an abstract interpretation of what a concrete thesmos is supposed to do.

Nomima I, 44 = IG IX.1<sup>2</sup> 3, 609, lines 1, 13–16.

Nomima I, 43 = IG IX.1<sup>2</sup> 3, 718, lines 19 (νομίοις), 26–28 (νομίοις, νομίζει, hυπὸ τõν νομίον τõν ἐπιϝοίϙον, νομίοις), 29 (νόμος ἐστί), 45 (hόρϙον ⋮ τὸν νόμιον).

Ibid., lines 45–46: διομόσαι hόρϙον ⋮ τὸν νόμιον, ⋮ ἐν ὐδρίαν ⋮ τὰν ψάφιξξιν εἶμεν. ⋮ καὶ τὸ θέθμιον ⋮ τοῖς hυποκναμιδίοις Λοϙροῖς ⋮ ταὐ|τὰ τέλεον εἶμεν ⋮ Χαλειέοις ⋮ τοῖς σὺν Ἀντιφάται ⋮ ϝοικεταῖς, "the traditional oath will be taken. The vote will be taken in a ballot box. The thethmion for the Hypocnemidian Locrians will also be valid for the Khaleians, the fellow colonists of Antiphatas".

Nomima I, 22 = SEG 27, 631 (Lyttos).

ters, or an inscribed wooden support, mainly when they display public decisions, were wonderful artefacts, which could also be seen as "tightly fitted realisations, containing something precious." Perhaps the same rationale can be applied to Solon, who chose thesmos to designate his "laws" and emphatically used the verb graphein to designate their enactment (θεσμοὺς ... ἔγραψα). If this line of reasoning is correct, it could explain, at least partly, the gradual shift from the concrete meaning of thesmos to the significance of 'law". <sup>142</sup> The intuitive relationship between thesmos and the archaic word themis has favoured the interpretation of the term as "divine law", in contrast to the nomoi, considered as "traditional usages" or "laws enacted by men". <sup>143</sup> But the concrete meaning of the word cannot be forgotten when reading its earliest occurrences and the abstract meaning cannot be projected without caution onto these earliest attestations.

✶

Now, it is time to return to the Thesmophoros and conclude.

The origin of the Thesmophoria is lost very far back in time, but the classical ritual – whose Athenian version is best evidenced – has something to do with<sup>144</sup> (1) the fertility of the fields (in close connection with the pigs thrown into holes, whose remains were mixed with the yearly seeds); (2) the fertility of women (as attested by the name Kalligeneia given to one of the festival days in Athens); (3) the status of citizen (Athenian) women (as Detienne showed in his seminal paper). More broadly, the festival has something to tell about the importance of women – of different generations, mothers and daughters – for the safety and vital balance of a community in its elementary forces: providing food, begetting children and helping them grow – seen as the different sides of the same process, called trophos in Greek – and confronting the dead. All these elements refer to Demeter's competences, mainly when she is worshipped with her daughter as Thesmophoros. All these elements are essential – but not exhaustive – components of social life: "civilised" food, generational continuity, and care for the dead, namely what the classical period will progressively associate with the thesmoi of the gods ("what is themis to do", in the hexametric tradition145). The evolution of the understanding of the term thesmos has led many to consider that Demeter Thesmophoros was the goddess bringing to human beings the "laws" of a life under the sign of civility, a meaning attested first – for us – by Callimachus. However,

Let us remark that, on the island of Kos, around 240 BCE, the word could still be used (probably) for a coffin emerging accidentally from a tomb: IG XII 4, 72 / CGRN 148, line 64. This piece of the thesmoi dossier has been known since 1928, when Herzog published the inscriptions from the Asklepieion, where this one was found in 1903. Cf. e.g. Robertson 1983, 246 n. 15.

For example, X. Cyr. 1.1.6. Unfortunately, for addressing these questions, the standard publication remains Ostwald 1969, whose undeniable qualities are undermined by this kind of teleological view.

According to the three points rightly and efficiently emphasised by Parker 2005, 275–276 (the content of the brackets is mine). On all the levels of the festival, see Versnel 1993 and Chlup 2007.

e.g. Hom. Il. 2.73, 9.276; Hes. Th. 396.

when the cult-title emerges in our evidence (a fortiori in earlier periods of this cult, which now escape us), thesmos means a "tightly fitted object, containing something precious." This "treasure" is supposed to be a secret gift of Demeter to women, carefully concealed and protected from the curiosity of males. It is vain, then, to try to identify precisely both the type of container initially implied by the term, as well as its content, as so many brilliant and inventive minds have tried to do. We simply do not know and the guessing game has remained inconclusive for over a century. Nevertheless, this dossier attests to the fact that onomastic attributes also have a history.

# Bibliography

Bremmer, Jan (2014), Initiation into the Mysteries of the Ancient World, Berlin.

Bruit Zaidman, Louise (2001), Le Commerce des dieux. Eusebeia. Essai sur la piété en Grèce ancienne, Paris. Brumfield, Allaire Chandor (1981), The Attic Festivals of Demeter and their Relation to the Agricultural Year,

Salem (NH).


Deubner, Ludwig (1932), Attische Feste, Berlin.


Herzog, Rudolf (1928), Heilige Gesetze von Kos, Berlin.

Jaillard, Dominique (2005), "Mises en place du panthéon dans les Hymnes homériques. L'exemple de l'Hymne à Déméter", in: Gaia 9, 49–62.

Johnston, Sarah Iles (2012), "Demeter in Hermion: Sacrifice and Ritual Polyvlance", in: Arethusa 45, 211–241.


# Clarisse Prêtre The Onomastic Attributes of Greek Healing Deities

Abstract: The study of onomastic sequences elaborated on roots evoking illness, healing and health leads to a paradoxical observation. While it seems normal to attempt to specify the healing attributes of polyvalent deities such as Zeus, it is more surprising that Asklepios himself, who is the god of medicine, is also granted onomastic sequences related to healing. As we shall see, the choice of these qualifiers is subtly made according to the multiplicity of cult realities on the one hand, where onomastic polysemy echoes the polymorphy of the deities, and also according to the univocal character of the god of medicine, whose singularity authorises the use of attributes with less precise meanings than those granted to Herakles or even Apollo.

> Ἐπίκλησιν δέ νιν Αἴγλας ματρὸς Ἀσκλαπιὸν ὠνόμαξε Ἀπόλλων, τὸν νόσων παύστορα, δωτῆρα ὑγιείας, μέγα δώρημα βροτοῖς.

According to the name of his mother Aigla, Apollo named him Asklapios, the one who puts an end to illnesses, the one who is in charge of giving health, a great benefit to mortals.<sup>1</sup>

The lexical field of the healing act in Greek<sup>2</sup> is structured around three main roots, all of which are present in the epic sources and which even appear in medical texts. Of course, over the centuries of language use, there have been variations in meaning, verbal creations and nominal disappearances, but generally speaking, for convenience, the majority of lexemes in this semantic group are found around the verbs3 ἰᾶσθαι, ἀκεῖσθαι, and θεραπεύειν.

Hence, it is surprising, to say the least, that the ongoing competition between these three word families did not have a strong morphological impact on the construction of qualifications (adjectives or participles) applied to healing deities. Thus, only two radicals, one of which is predominant, were exploited to create these onomastic sequences, to which others from other semantic groups were added without any primary connection with healing or care. It is therefore natural that the distribution of the onomastic attributes presented here is essentially made in accordance with the radicals.

Pean of Isyllos (IG IV2 .1, 128 = DB MAP S#11032), l. 55–56. This text, written at the beginning of the 3rd century BCE by a citizen of Epidaurus, was presented as a dedication to Apollo Maleatas and Asklepios: in addition to the pean itself, Isyllos tells of a miracle that happened to him as a child.

Unless specifically stated, all dates refer to before Christ.

For convenience, we prefer to quote these verbs as a reference rather than going back to the root, which is sometimes debated, following Van Brock's classification.

The invocations to various divine powers made with the aim of obtaining a cure can therefore be divided into three major semantic fields, which can themselves be classified according to a chronological sequence linked to the evolution of a pathology: when the disease appears, one attempts to repel it, then to heal it before asking to remain in good health. Of course, no epigraphic or literary document ever displays the three phases of the therapeutic scheme together, and depending on the place and the date, we will have to deal with an onomastic formula that allows us to pinpoint the moment when the action of addressing the divinity takes place.

It could be objected that what has been placed here in third position, to call upon divine benevolence in order to avoid getting ill, would deserve to be in first place and to accompany, for example, a propitiatory votive gesture. The dating of texts mentioning onomastic attributes intended to invoke protective gentleness legitimately gives us cause to hesitate in the diachrony: while one of the best known onomastic sequences appears as early as the Homeric narratives,4 i.e. in a sphere where divine therapy prevails over human medicine, most of the epigraphic sources invoking Apollo, Herakles or Asklepios in their protective functions appear at the end of the 5th and the beginning of the 4th century BCE. These were periods when belief in divine causality existed alongside rational medicine; many patients would first consult a doctor before turning to religion if this failed: it was therefore not unhelpful to seek the benevolence of the gods in a kind of over-activation of their powers, when human therapy had failed. To first ask Asklepios for divine protection against illness would be to deny its therapeutic effectiveness when one becomes ill afterwards.

This question of the thematic classification of healing onomastic sequences also has a wider resonance in the circumstances of the arrival of Asklepios' cult in Athens in 420. From this date onwards, the number of thanks given for healings, as opposed to propitiatory invocations, argues in favour of the working hypothesis presented here. In the same way that the gods' onomastic qualifications used in the 5th century may reflect the central historical event of the battle against the Persians5 (the Eleutherios, Tropaios or Nike flourished at that time, testifying to the concerns of the Athenians),6 healing onomastic sequences are developed after the Great Plague of 430, of which Athens bore the stigma until 426. Soliciting the auspices of the gods after suffering a physical disaster was all the more relevant then.

However, the question of the steps in the therapeutic process (before, during, after) detected in the three semantic fields used to create the onomastic attributes remains secondary. It is more important to study the meaning of the words used before trying to understand the articulation of a triangle linking the divine interlocutor, the social agent and the elaboration context of these onomastic sequences. The choice

Paieon: Hom., Il. 5.400–401 and 899–904 and Od. 4.231–232.

Parker 1996, 179–180.

But Paul 2016, 66.

was also restricted here to what we imperfectly call the "healing qualifications" <sup>7</sup> i.e. those based on a radical directly linked to the field of illness and medicine. This excludes Paieon in an epicletic position, for example, who would have been of little interest to the argument.<sup>8</sup> In the same way, the question was raised as to whether Thermios,<sup>9</sup> for example, an onomastic attribute of Apollo connected with hot springs that have therapeutic virtues, should be considered. However, as the root of the word is not related to the medical world, the onomastic attribute was eliminated.

Finally, as a last example, we hesitated to include what may seem to be the greatest symbol of a healing function, the affixed substantive ἰατρός, since it also referred to a hero as a name in itself. Insofar as it is a noun sometimes used alone, it does not exactly fit with the definition considered here for an onomastic sequence: an adjective or a noun qualifying the name of a divinity by conferring particular powers on them. But failing to mention Apollo Iatros, whose cult was so well known in the Milesian colonies of the Black Sea, would be like not mentioning Asklepios as the god of medicine.

Choosing to first focus on the terms rather than on the deities in action proved to be the most judicious method for the purpose in question, allowing us to approach the subject in a transversal way in order to avoid falling into a tedious list linked to the verticality of our usual conception of the pantheon: methodologically, it seemed more important to identify the divine functions expressed through onomastic elements rather than to categorise the lexical fields according to presuppositions about each deity in a field where the pre-eminence of Asklepios would have risked diluting the functions of the other gods.

In a healing context, the first prayers are aimed at repressing the disease before attempting to cure it. It is indeed notable that the majority of onomastic attributes and periphrases highlighting the divine fight against evil, however complex, belong to a sole radical. Whether in theme I (full root and zero-degree suffix) giving the radical αλκ‑ or under theme II producing the radical αλεξ-, it is primarily referring to the ability to fight, to repel.

# 1 Ἀλκτήρ

Many terms with a ‑τηρ suffix can be confronted with a parallel formation suffixed with ‑τωρ. The former denotes "the agent of a function" and the latter "the author of an act". The nuance between the two can be translated, according to Benveniste, by "who has the mission of, the charge of" for nouns with ‑τηρ. 10

Because it is not always about healing, but also about putting off or being healthy.

On the history of Paieon, who was first a god in his own right and doctor of the gods, then an Apollonian qualification, see Nissen 2009, in particular note 6 with an excellent summary of previous studies.

Croon 1967, 225–246.

Benveniste 1948, 45.

This is thus the case for ἀλκτήρ, the correspondent of which is ἀλέκτωρ, the cockerel, literally "one who fights, who defends". The agent name ἀλκτήρ is found in epic language with the meaning of defender: Achilles had a duty to fight for Patroclus, "to be in charge of fighting ruin", ἀρῆς ἀλκτῆρα γενέσθαι, Odysseus' pointed spear has the task of "fighting dogs and men", <sup>11</sup> ὀξὺν ἄκοντα, κυνῶν ἀλκτῆρα καὶ ἀνδρῶν.

Its specialisation in the medical field, however, comes into play quite early on in poetic texts. In Pindar's Third Pythic, we observe an instance of appellative usage that probably cannot be strictly defined as an onomastic attribute but rather as a qualifier of Asklepios.<sup>12</sup> In line 7, the poet refers to him as the "hero in charge of fighting all kinds of diseases", <sup>13</sup> ἥροα παντοδαπᾶν ἀλκτῆρα νούσων. The link with Asklepios is repeated several centuries later in the Pean of Makedonikos. This hymn,<sup>14</sup> written in the 1 st century, reproduces the Pindaric language and vocabulary15 in many places, even going so far as to describe the god as "the one who has the mission to fight diseases and human misfortune Asklepios, the merry boy", <sup>16</sup> νούσων καὶ βροτέας [ἀλκτῆρα] δύης, Ἀσκληπιὸν εὔφ[ρον]α κοῦρον. The gap is unfortunate, but the multiple stylistic networks woven between the hymn and the inscription allow for a logical restitution of ἀλκτῆρα.

As for the derivative of this agent noun, it belongs entirely to the semantic field of healing. The adjective ἀλκτήριον<sup>17</sup> literally designates that which combats a disease, thus the remedy, the antidote, and then qualifies a water with curative virtues.18

Several remarks can be made here: the sliding of meaning applied to Asklepios is obvious and easy to understand. Nevertheless, for this rare agent name only observed in poetic texts (with only four occurrences preserved), we feel the need to add νοῦσος ("disease") to it when it concerns the god of medicine. How can we understand this need for semantic reinforcement with perhaps the only god who does not require it?

If we follow the distinction proposed above by Benveniste, the essence of Asklepios itself should have induced a suffixed name in ‑τωρ that refers to an idea of general action. In the absence of a zero-degree term and the word ἀλέκτωρ being reserved for a

Hom., Il. 18.100 (transl. A.T. Murray, W.F. Wyatt, LCL), Od. 14.531 (transl. A.T. Murray, G.E. Dimock, LCL).

If we assume that onomastic attribute is not synonymous with periphrasis, i.e. syntactic construction involving a verb.

Pi., P. 3.7.

According to the shape of the letters, but Fairbanks 1900, dated it back to 300.

IG II<sup>3</sup> .4, 777 = DB MAP S#1328, l. 9–10. For the commentary, among others Kolde 2003; Piguet 2012, 53–86.

DB MAP T#1719. The translation chosen by me is that of Benveniste 1948, 45 to maintain the strong idea of struggle rather than protection.

Substantivized in Nic., Th. 528.

Nonn., D. 45.348.

gallinaceous,19 naturally ἀλκτήρ came to the fore to surname Asklepios. It was then necessary to designate the function of which the god became the agent, the language of the epics setting the example. Characterising the divine onomastic attribute by νοῦσος is indeed justified if we understand that, in the poets' mind, it is not an overqualification of Asklepios, who does not need it, but rather a desire to follow an existing syntactic pattern that is frequently observed for other agent nouns when they are in epicletic function.20

# 2 Ἀλεξητήρ

The same system of alternation between the suffixes ‑τηρ and ‑τωρ is observed in the substantives ἀλεξητήρ and ἀλεξήτωρ, both of which are used to qualify gods.

The agent noun ἀλεξητήρ, built on the other expanded theme in ‑η, is first used in Homeric texts to refer to the defender in battle<sup>21</sup> before being found in the later poets without a qualification reserved for the gods: "conjurer of plague", <sup>22</sup> λοιμοῦ ἀλεξητῆρα, in Apollonius of Rhodes, "repelling artificer" <sup>23</sup> of flies, ἀλεξήτειρα δὲ τέχνη in an epigram voicing a mosquito net, or "death repelling" <sup>24</sup> plant in Nonnos. Aside from one occurrence in Xenophon,25 the term is not used in prose, and probably an influence of this poetic usage causes the expression to be found in a late Macedonian epigram addressed to a statue of Asklepios: "a healing Asklepios, [he] dedicated to this house, charged with warding off diseases", <sup>26</sup> Ἀσκληπιὸν ἰητῆρα ∙ θήκατο τῷδε οἴκῳ νούσων ἀλεξητῆρα. The switch to a meaning closer to recovery for ἀλεξητήρ is evident here, due to the context of the dedication and the strongly marked semantic field.

To strengthen this specialisation of meaning, we can quote the periphrastic formula of dedication to Demeter by Herodes Atticus of an "(effigy) of Asklepios the initiated (. . .) who has warded off his illness", <sup>27</sup> Ἀσκληπιὸ[ν] (. . .) νοῦσον ἀλεξή[σ]αντ'.

Hom., Il. 20.396.

Who appears to be the bird of Asklepios. Cf Socrates' last sentence in the Phaedo.

Thus, γενέτωρ with the complement τέκνων applied to Eileithyia, refers to the progenitor, Pi., N. 7.1.

A.R., 2.519.

AP 9.764.

Nonn., D. 25.529.

X., Oec. 4.3: "Bad defenders", κακοὶ (. . .) ταῖς πατρίσιν ἀλεξητῆρες εἶναι, i.e., who do not fulfill their mission as defenders. About the alternation between the suffixes ‑τωρ and ‑τηρ, see Benveniste 1948, 48.

IG X.2.2, 302 = DB MAP S#16445, 3rd c. CE, bearing a relief of the Dioskouroi.

IG II3 .4, 1051 = I.Eleusis 498. Commentary in DB MAP T#3817: "The qualifier mustes most probably refers to Asklepios' initiation to the Mysteries of Eleusis".

Just like the function agent ἀλκτήρ previously studied, ἀλεξητήρ is not used alone<sup>28</sup> and the parallelism is interesting when applied to the god of medicine: without any clear presumption of the influence of the former on the latter, the syntactic construction with νοῦσος can be explained in the same way.

This can be contrasted with the more general use of the agent noun ἀλεξήτωρ employed as a qualification for Zeus in Sophocles, when the chorus invokes "Zeus protector", <sup>29</sup> Ζεῦ Ἀλεξῆτορ.

Regarding the semantic evolution of these terms built on the same root, the fields of their use remain essentially poetic, and the expressions in which they are encountered in a quasi-fixed form draw from the crucible of metaphorical references that already exist in the epic sources. Van Brock already said about a term of the same root: "One is less surprised, therefore, to find in Aretaeus two examples of ἄλκαρ". 30 Similarly, the poetic colouring of the onomastic attributes of Asklepios is perfectly justifiable given the literary context in which they are set.

Alongside these agent nouns where the polysemy of the simple nominal form seemed to impose the addition of the complement νούσων, the creation of the progressive compound words ἀλεξίπονος and ἀλεξίκακος definitively consecrates the belonging of these sequences to the field of the disease that is being repelled and allows them to be attributed in a wider way to Asklepios, but also to Apollo, Zeus, Herakles, Hygieia, Telesphoros and even Athena, according to a coherent distribution.

### 3 Ἀλεξίπονος

The Homeric texts do not mention this adjective. In literary sources, it is often found in late gemmological essays to designate the virtues of some stones, but also in theological sources assuming a figurative meaning. Only one fragment by Sophocles links the term more anciently to the birth myth and genealogy of Asklepios, referring to Coronis, "the mother of the god who wards off suffering", <sup>31</sup> μᾶτερ ἀλεξιπό[ν]ο[ιο] θεοῦ.

The inscriptions confirm the therapeutic function of the adjective more obviously: in the Pean of Makedonikos, the transmission of knowledge to Asklepios is done because "the Centaur taught all the secrets of his art that ward off the suffering of men" <sup>32</sup> ἐδίδαξε [τ]έχνην πᾷ[σαν κρυ]φίαν Κένταυρος ἀλεξίπονον. Then the imperial dedication of an altar by Africanus, priest of the Asklepieion in Epidaurus, confirms

This is the case for the qualification of "Herakles in charge of removing evils", ἀλεξητῆρα κακῶν, IG XIV, 1003 = DB MAP S#15124. There is no healing function here as it is a hymn dedicated by someone whose life was saved by Herakles during a trip to Italy.

Soph., OC 143.

Van Brock 1961, 104.

Page [1962] 1967, 380–381.

Piguet 2012, 82, translation modified to link ἀλεξίπονον over [τ]έχνην.

the healing function of the onomastic attribute by associating it with "Asklepios, Hygieia and Telesphoros, who ward off suffering", <sup>33</sup> Ἀσκληπιῷ κ(αὶ) Ὑγείᾳ κ(αὶ) Τελεσφόρῳ Ἀλεξιπόνοις. The three phases of the evolution of an illness represented by the functions of the deities are thus united by a collective onomastic sequence that reinforces the personal role of each god: medicine, health, and convalescence.

The few attestations, in both literary and epigraphic sources, are thus essentially connected to the Asklepieian family when they concern divine functions. Their scarcity is probably due to the concurrence with Ἀλεξίκακος, which is established as a general onomastic attribute to designate the fight against disease.

### 4 Ἀλεξίκακος

The distribution between these two onomastic qualifications of similar morphological and semantic structure is indeed quite surprising: the first is restricted to the Asklepieian triad, while the second is delineated for the other deities, gods and goddesses or heroes.

The progressive compound adjective ἀλεξίκακος already appears in the Iliad to refer to "something that keeps away the evils of all Danaeans", <sup>34</sup> τις ἀλεξίκακος πᾶσιν Δαναοῖσι. The common saving function – and without religious evocation – is found in the parabasis of the Wasps chorus when Aristophanes refers to himself as the "saviour who removes the evils of this country", ἀλεξίκακον τῆς χώρας τῆσδε καθαρτὴν, 35 referring to his status as a poet scourging the Sophists. In Plutarch,<sup>36</sup> Niloxenus' interjection before a half-man/half-horse monster indicates his frightened surprise without any clue to whether a particular deity is behind the "Ἀλεξίκακε".

Generally speaking, the evils designated in the various literary occurrences do not necessarily denote pathologies.

In a broader sense, it is in the epigraphic sources that we observe the most mentions of the adjective in epicletic function. Two deities share the majority of Ἀλεξίκακος, Apollo and Herakles,37 but it is Apollo who is invoked in a context of healings.

Plu., Moral., 149D.

IG IV².1, 472 = DB MAP S#10377.

Hom., Il. 10.20. Pl., Cra. 397e, quotes Hes., Op. 123 by adding to the original text the adjective ἀλεξίκακος: the men of the Hesiodic Golden Age are thus earthly daimones who "keep away evils and are the protectors of mortals", ἀλεξίκακοι, φύλακες θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων.

Ar., V. 1043.

Due to an ambiguous rendition, we will leave aside IG II2 4850 = DB MAP S#5287, [Ἡρακλέως vel Ἀπόλλωνος Ἀγυι]έως Ἀλεξικάκου; more likely, Apollo is the god in question, according to other epigraphic occurrences such as IG II3 .4, 953 = DB MAP S#2715. The epithet does not refer to a proven healing function.

Only one dedication is devoted in a general way "to the protecting gods, to the gods who keep away evils", <sup>38</sup> θεοῖς προστατηρίοις, θεοῖς ἀλεξικάκοις. The archaeological context of the inscription does not help with identifying the deities involved. Nevertheless, if we accept that it comes from Kyme in Aeolis,<sup>39</sup> we know, thanks to Pliny<sup>40</sup> in particular, that the city had a large sanctuary dedicated to Apollo. The epithet Προστατήριος is moreover regularly attributed to him in Attica and in particular when associated with Ἄρτεμις Βουλαία and Φωσφόρος. 41

Therefore, would it be plausible to consider that the "protective gods, who keep away the evils" in Kyme's dedication are Apollo and Artemis? While the healing qualities of the former are obvious, the intervention of Artemis in a therapeutic role is less clear.<sup>42</sup> However, we should remember that it was Diana Lyaea who, according to Latin authors, cured the whole of Sicily of a disease43 and that Artemis was invoked in her sanctuary of Lousoi to cure of madness the daughters of Proetos, king of Tiryns.44 Her status as Apollo's sister also justifies this protective association.

The onomastic element Ἀλεξίκακος is given to Apollo in a text evoking the Thargelia<sup>45</sup> but "The text is too fragmentary to indicate the rituals probably performed for the god, nor the agents possibly involved". <sup>46</sup> Despite the rarity of mentions of the god in a healing context, Pausanias nevertheless confirms this function by recalling the context of the elaboration of his attribute, which comes "according to the Athenians, from the fact that he indicated to them, through an oracle rendered at Delphi, the means of putting an end to the plague with which they were afflicted at the same time as the Peloponnesian war", <sup>47</sup> Τὸ δὲ ὄνομα τῷ θεῷ γενέσθαι λέγουσιν, ὅτι τὴν λοιμώδη σφίσι νόσον ὁμοῦ τῷ Πελοποννησίων πολέμῳ πιέζουσαν κατὰ μάντευμα ἔπαυσε Δελφῶν.

Again, regarding Herakles, the healing reference is not systematic despite his proven connection with Asklepios.<sup>48</sup> Thus, in the Miletoupolis sacrificial calendar

LSCG Suppl. 14 C, l. 49.

See DB MAP S#10418.

But BE 1978, no. 401 on this inscription (I.Kyme 33 = DB MAP S#10418).

Gallet de Santerre 1947, 302–306.

e.g. Agora XV, 261 = DB MAP S#3466.

But S., OT 161, where Artemis is, along with Athena and Apollo, one of the three ἀλεξίμοροι gods invoked to end the pestilence.

Frontisi-Ducroux 1981, 29–56 and 47 esp.

B. 11.37–58 and 92–119: "The daughter of the noblest of fathers, who spies on wild beasts, heard his prayer: she bent Hera, and cured the virgins crowned with chalices of their impious madness. They immediately built her a sanctuary and an altar, they sprinkled her with the blood of sheep, they formed choirs of women."

DB MAP T#1973.

Paus. 1.3.4.

Aelius Aristides, Or. 40.14–15, summarises this link, which had been established centuries ago, by reporting that Herakles was the first of the gods to receive the epithet ἀλεξίκακος and that a paean began with "O Paian Herakles Asklepios". His cult was emphasised in the wake of the Great Athenian

written in the 350s BCE, the offering of an ox to Herakles, and then of a bull to "(Herakles) who keeps away the evils", <sup>49</sup> Ἡρακλεῖ βοῦς, Ἀλεξικάκωι ταῦρος, does not refer to a prerogative healer of the hero.50 The distinction marked by the syntax is nevertheless worth highlighting, thus by demonstrating how the presence or absence of an onomastic sequence can provide information about the functional polymorphism of the divine agent. The question of the quality of Herakles arises, for example, in a dedication on a mid-4th century relief found in Piraeus.51 If we accept that it is related to the Athenian sanctuary of Herakles Alexikakos,52 built after the Great Plague of the 430s, we can then consider the connection with possible healing virtues.53 This example shows, however, how ambiguous the semantic interpretation of functional onomastic attributes can often be, if we needed reminding it.

Besides the simple form of the epithet, we can note the morphological variant ἀπαλεξίκακος /ἀπαλλαξίκακος<sup>54</sup> applied to Herakles in a Delian inscription from the 2 nd century BCE, "of Herakles who removes all evils", <sup>55</sup> Ἡρακλέους Ἀπαλλαξικάκου as well as in a text from Chaeronea, "to Herakles who removes all evils, Hipparchos, in gratitude", <sup>56</sup> Ἡρακλεῖ Ἀπαλεξικάκῳ Ἵππαρχος χαριστήριον.

The idea of healing is validated by the association of this epithet with Asklepios in the Epidaurus inscriptions, with the formula "to him who removes evils, God Asklepios, to Hestia, to Zeus Who removes evils", <sup>57</sup> Ἀπαλλα[ξ]ικάκῳ θεῷ Ἀσκληπιῷ Ἑστίᾳ [̣Δ ιὶ Ἀ] παλλαξι [̣κ άκῳ ---]. The same epithet is attributed here to Zeus; in general, his functions have little to do with disease. It is mainly Zeus Meilichios who is known to repel evils during the festival of Diasia although it is not possible to determine the nature of these evils which oscillate between general impurity (atai), sorrows (aniai) and gastric disorders (asai) attributed to the excess of sacrificial food consumed during these festi-


Plague and his healing virtues were developed in many sanctuaries, attested by Paus. 9.24. In Ephesus, it is under the semantically close name of Herakles Apotropaios that he fights the plague, Philostr., VA 4.10. Alfieri Tonini 2011, 37–46, esp. 39.

I.Miletupolis 1 = CGRN 83 = DB MAP S#14907.

In CGRN 83, 8–9, the authors note that Herakles "was widely venerated as the protector of houses in this form".

There is semantic assimilation between ἀπαλεξίκακος and ἀπαλλαξίκακος, the second being built on the verb ἀπαλλαξείω "to remove, deliver from". Ἀπαλλακτικός in Aristotle is strictly used to refer to someone delivered from a disease (Arist., Pr. 959b, 26). To differentiate between these two forms of ἀλεξίκακος, and insofar as the prefix ἀπο denotes both the action of removing and completeness, they will be translated as "one who repels all evils". See attestations in DB MAP T#13087 or again DB MAP T#13565.

I.Délos 2479 = DB MAP S#10440. RICIS 202/0379: "Le nom d'Héraklès Apallaxikakos (cf. ἀλεξίκακος) fait songer à Horus-Harpocrate".

IG VII, 3416 = DB MAP S#16131.

DB MAP T#13565 = I.Epidauros Suppl. 53, 1–4.

vals.<sup>58</sup> Only the last element refers to physical pain. In the Epidaurian inscription, where Zeus is associated with Asklepios, who bears the same qualifier, it would be plausible to conclude that the healing power of the former is euphemistically reinforced: this would probably be the only evidence of a clear therapeutic function for this deity, as this quality does not apply to various onomastic sequences of Zeus: Zeus Apemios "who preserves from suffering" is established in a meteorological context, Zeus Disabeites Alexikakos, "Disabeites, who removes evils", evolves in a local field59 and the magical lead tablet from Phalasarna invoking Zeus Alexikakos in a blatantly poetically coloured language alongside Herakles Ptoliporthon, Iatros, Nike and Apollo, has multiple apotropaic purposes.60

The distribution between ἀλεξίπονος and ἀλεξίκακος is not easily explainable, but rather than thinking of a strict connection between the deities who bear them, we should first return to the origin of each composition.

The word πόνος has a long history that is not worth developing here. Derived from the verb πένοναι, it above all designates work, effort in labour, whether agricultural, gymnastic or, of course military, to mention only three of the major fields of occupation in Antiquity.61 The meaning of physical suffering appears later, and mainly in the medical corpus,62 whereas the term is already attested in Homer or Hesiod with the first meanings mentioned: already in Aeschylus, only the torments of childbirth are characterised by this term,63 but we cannot restrict Neoptolemos' sentence to Philoctetes to a single physical pain: "you know the whole scale of sufferings", <sup>64</sup> διὰ πόνων πάντων φαίνεις.

Unlike κακόν, πόνος moves the usual reading cursor of onomastic sequences that construct a dichotomous system opposing disease and cure by introducing the notion of pain in the middle.

The imprecise meaning for πόνος that persists for a long time explains why Asklepios (and the triad mentioned earlier, with Hygieia and Telesphoros) can benefit from the

For details on the subject of nausea cured by Zeus, see Lebreton 2013, 106 and note 210 mainly. The author does not mention the onomastic attribute Ἀπαλλαξίκακος.

Worshiped on Parnes, Zeus Apemios does not possess a healing skill. This onomastic sequence is known only from Pausanias, 1.32.2, in association with Zeus Ombrios. Lebreton 2013, 73: "Le mal qu'on attend qu'il réduise à néant est probablement avant tout la sécheresse." For Zeus Disabeites Alexikakos, French 1996, 87–98, no. 9. Jordan 1992, 191–194. The epithet Soter will not be studied because Zeus Soter does not strictly speaking possess a healing skill.

I.Cret. II, xix, 7 = SEG 43, 615.

"S'agissant d'Athènes, l'effort est toujours exploit ; il est vrai que, dans la guerre, l'époque classique ne veut voir que le beau côté, le côté du beau : ni gémissements ni douleur, ni sang ni larmes, toujours des hauts faits", Loraux 1982, 191–192 and esp. 174.

LSJ, s.v., passim.

Loraux 1981, 37–67 and esp. 44.

Soph., Ph. 760.

onomastic attribute Ἀλεξίπονος: connected to the god of medicine, it then takes on an obvious functional meaning because of the univocity of the divine personality.

The word κακός, likewise, does not have any more initial semantic specialisation related to pain. However, unlike πόνος which can take on a positive meaning, κακός is only used in a negative context. Κακόν refers to any evil, a polymorphous impurity of which one must be rid. The polyvalence of divine powers other than Asklepios authorises the appropriation of the Ἀλεξίκακος epithet: sometimes it is associated with a divine action for an entire city, sometimes it expresses the need to create a healing specificity that will be linked to local contingencies and modes of intervention specific to each god: Herakles and Apollo become Ἀλεξίκακοι in the Attic context during the emergence of the Great Plague of Athens, which coincides with the Peloponnesian War:<sup>65</sup> the onomastic sequence takes on a polysemic ambivalence that the univocal Asklepieian qualification cannot possess.

# 5 Νόσιος

The two attestations of this epithet are surrounded by doubts in reading and interpretation.

The first occurrence is found in the Miletus ritual calendar<sup>66</sup> dated from the last quarter of the 6th century. The sequence ΔΙΝ ̣Ο ̣Σ ̣ΙΩΙ, which appears between a regulation to Hera Antheia and Apollo Delphinios, has given rise to several readings but a Zeus Nosios has finally been admitted in place of a potential Dionysos.<sup>67</sup> Despite the lack of comparisons for this epithet, it is conceivable that it was a parallel type of construction, such as Νότος > Νότιος (the South wind /wet), that enabled this derivation. Is it a modified form of the latter used to refer to a range of properties well known for Zeus?<sup>68</sup> Nevertheless, Zeus Notios is not attested much more than Zeus Nosios<sup>69</sup> and we cannot imagine a morphological variation recalling a climatic phenomenon with any certitude.

Of course, these are also the conditions of the arrival of Asklepios in Athens, but the Asklepieion of Piraeus, which remains the most important in the minds of the Athenians in terms of cult, is only founded in 388. LSCG Suppl. 11 and LSCG 21 for the religious regulations for the establishment of the cult with offerings to Maleatas, Apollo, Hermes, Iaso, Akeso and Panacea.

DB MAP S#135.

Tod 1956, 458 and to resume the discussion, CGRN 6, 10–11.

"Si les tremblements de terre sont invariablement mis en relation avec les pouvoirs destructeurs ou apaisants de Poséidon, les aléas climatiques et atmosphériques ressortissent pour leur part au domaine de compétence de Zeus", Thély 2016, chap. 1, § 31.

Incidentally, Διὶ Νοτίωι is a dedication found in Thessaly and out of the context of a sanctuary. Recorded with neither drawing nor photo in Ἀρχαιολογικὸν Δελτίον 16 (1960), Χρονικά 182 and then included in BE 1964, no. 222 and in Heinz 1998, Kat. 17, with photo Abb. 77 (no legible text) = DB MAP S#15232.

The second occurrence of Νόσιος is also found in Miletus,70 which mutually reinforces the two readings. Dated to the 5th century, it is inscribed on a marble slab that was later reemployed as a roofing element. However, this does not imply that it is an exercise in stonemasonry, as the editor claims.71 On the contrary, the vocative form, Νόσιε, validates the idea of a dedication to the same god as that of the ritual calendar.

In view of all this, it is difficult to understand the referential context of a Zeus Nosios, "of diseases" at the Delphinion. Since the emergence of certain onomastic attributes is based on a local and concrete experience, it is possible that in Miletus, alongside Apollo Delphinios, the tutelary deity par excellence, and Zeus Soter72 referring to a salvific virtue in the broadest sense, the need for a functional onomastic attribute related to illness was felt. It is interesting to note that in the midst of a range of onomastic qualifications from the same semantic field (the action of repelling evil or healing), this epithet introduces a variant construction73 where the god is qualified by the negative element he is supposed to protect.

When the illness has nevertheless succeeded in imposing itself, it is a matter of invoking the divine powers intended to defeat it and heal the organism.

While the verb θεραπεύειν is used as early as the 5th century with the meaning of "to cure medically", <sup>74</sup> no divine qualification is built on its root. The θεράπων of the epic language from which it is derived first implied a service of a quasi-feudal nature, featuring a warrior bound to a chief in an unbreakable manner.<sup>75</sup> Here, "to serve" is a weakened translation because it fails to capture the full range of connections underlying this type of relationship, which also exists very early on between a human and a god,<sup>76</sup> when the meaning slides into a religious significance. The medical use of this morphological family is ambiguous: θεραπεύειν may concern the care of healthy bodies, thus opposing ἰᾶσθαι<sup>77</sup> which heals the body of its diseases, but in the classical period is used alternatively and without clear distinction to designate a healing action: the French verb "soigner" expresses this equivocal character as well. Why then is it never applied to a god in a healing function?

h.Ap. 388.

I.Delphinion 186 = DB MAP T#8834.

Kawerau/Rehm 1914, 165.

Graf 1979, 2–22. On Zeus Soter, note 73.

This could also justify the doubt that may exist about the interpretation. The only other case, also subject to caution, would be the onomastic attribute πυρετός, read in a 3rd-c.-CE Cilician dedication to the "God of fevers", Θεῷ Πυ ̣ρ ̣ετῷ (SEG 39, 1503) The authors explain that it was probably the prevalence of malaria in the region that would have prompted the creation of this sequence.

Th. 2.47.4, about the Great Plague, "For at first neither were the physicians able to cure it through ignorance of what it was", οὔτε γὰρ ἰατροὶ ἤρκουν τὸ πρῶτον θεραπεύοντες ἀγνοίᾳ.

Van Brock 1961, 115.

Pl., Lg. 684c: "It is as if gymnasium masters or doctors were recommended to attend to the care of the body and to cure diseases in pleasant ways", καθάπερ ἂν εἴ τις γυμνασταῖς ἢ ἰατροῖς προστάττοι μεθ' ἡδονῆς θεραπεύειν τε καὶ ἰᾶσθαι τὰ θεραπευόμενα σώματα.

The answer seems to be because of its semantic ambivalence, as it designates both the actions of serving and healing,<sup>78</sup> and also of worshiping.

It is also with this last meaning that ulterior nominal derivatives are developed such as θεραπευτήρ, the servant, θεραπευτής, the worshipper and even θεραπεία which determines the cult devoted to the gods79 before designating care:<sup>80</sup> we could not conceive of a tautological construction in which a god could be qualified by an onomastic attribute designating a cultic practice or service towards himself.

The two roots that created the verbs ἰαόμαι and ἀκέομαι together contain the majority of onomastic formations denoting divine healing powers. The epic language uses both verbs simultaneously,<sup>81</sup> but the latter has a less restrictive usage than the former given that it is not limited to the medical field.

The Homeric language provides an insight into the complexity of the verb ἀκεῖσθαι, which can be translated by the fuzzy and convenient term "to care" (in French, "soigner"). By an effect contrary to the general rules of semantics,<sup>82</sup> ἀκεῖσθαι is first used in an absolute or transitive way as an equivalent of ἰᾶσθαι "to heal" when it essentially concerns a divine intervention that authorises immediate and miraculous healing; on the other hand, when referring to human physicians, the contexts very often lead to an understanding of the verb not as a resultative but rather as the active "to administer care", or to a further weakening of its meaning with the idea of simply "to relieve, to calm". <sup>83</sup> As such, the simple or compound form (ἐξάκεισθαι) on which the onomastic sequence ἐξακεστήρ is elaborated moves out of the therapeutic semantic field to take on the concrete notion of repairing, boats for example,<sup>84</sup> νῆας ἀκειόμενος, but also moral wrongs in a metaphorical sense, in an intransitive way.85

This dilution of a primary meaning that would have been medical in favour of a simple notion of repair can be seen with ἄκος, which from Aeschylus to Herodotus via Plato, is not only rarely observed in prose, but even more rarely designates a medical action.

Did this semantic chronology play a role in the creation of onomastic attributes and their application to some gods rather than others?

Even "heal" in a resultative sense completely concurrent with ἰᾶσθαι in the Epidaurus inscriptions. Prêtre/Charlier (eds.) 2010, 60 and 158.

For example, E., Ion 187, "and worship of Apollo who guards the streets", ἀγυιάτιδες θεραπεῖαι.

In Thucydides, again, 2.51.4, 'because each one was infected by mutual treatment', ὅτι ἕτερος ἀφ᾽ ἑτέρου θεραπείας ἀναπιμπλάμενοι. Th. Hobbes' seventeenth-century translation, incidentally, uses "visitation" to translate the term θεραπεία without meaning of care.

19 examples for the former, 21 for the latter according to Van Brock 1961, 75.

If we accept an internal chronology of the epic texts established by Van Brock.

Hom., Il. 4.36.

Hom., Od. 14.383.

Hom., Od. 10.69: "Make repentance, my friends!", ἀλλ' ἀκέσασθε, φίλοι.

# 6 Ἀκέσιος

The only mention of this onomastic element<sup>86</sup> is attributed to Apollo, whose cult statue stands on the agora of Elis according to Pausanias:87

The most notable things that the Eleans have in the open part of the agora are a temple and image of Apollo Akesios. The meaning of the name would appear to be exactly the same as that of the Ἀλεξίκακος, the name current among the Athenians.

Ἠλείοις δὲ ἐν τῷ ὑπαίθρῳ τῆς ἀγορᾶς τὰ ἐπιφανέστατα ναός ἐστι καὶ ἄγαλμα Ἀπόλλωνος Ἀκεσίου· σημαίνοι δ' ἂν τὸ ὄνομα οὐδέν τι ἀλλοῖον ἢ ὁ καλούμενος Ἀλεξίκακος ὑπὸ Ἀθηναίων.

The equivalence with the epithet Ἀλεξίκακος allows us to insert this qualifier into the healing virtues, even though we have no information on the cult of Apollo Alexikakos in Athens.88 However, the etymology modifies Pausanias' interpretation if we accept that one keeps away the evils while the other treats them. Should we see in this sequence a sole Apollonian function? Apollo's position in the agora is uncommon, as is also shown by the onomastic attribute Ἀγοραῖος applied exclusively to Zeus and Hermes. In Athens, the cult of Apollo Patroos on the agora is an influence of the religious organisation of the Ionian cities;89 there, he represents the accomplished Athenian democracy, but the Dorian cities of the Peloponnese, on the other hand, never quite assimilate Apollo to a civic symbol. However, it is difficult to completely adopt R. Martin's argument, which sees the memory of popular traditions emanating from cities in "l'état primitif (. . .), occupées d'élevage, de la protection de leurs troupeaux" <sup>90</sup> in this absence of a political role. Indeed, the onomastic attribute Ἀκέσιος cannot be reduced to a single protective function.

Apollo was never supplanted by Asklepios in the Elean city, unlike in other cities, like Epidaurus, of course.91 Since his temple has not been found, we know little about the cult that was devoted to him or the date of his appearance. Nevertheless, its thau-

After some consideration, we have removed Ἄκεσις from the list of onomastic attributes: as a common noun, the term itself followed the semantic evolution already mentioned for all words with the root ἀκεῖσθαι by weakening and losing its medical meaning especially in inscriptions where it now only designates the – pragmatic – action of repairing. Syntactically speaking, this is not an onomastic attribute insofar as Ἄκεσις is also a hero assimilated to Telesphoros whose healing prerogatives are known rather late in Greece. Referring to an image of Evamerion in the temple of Asklepios of Titane, Pausanias gives the only literary reference to Telesphoros (2.11.7).

Paus. 6.24, 6. Pilz 2020, 97. The temple has not been found, despite some proposals for interpretation (Ἀρχαιολογικὸν Δελτίον 64 [2009], Χρονικά 369).

Cf supra s.v.

De Schutter 1987, 103–129.

Martin 1951, 190.

"In der Stadt Elis, finden sich in der Tat keinerlei Spuren der Verehrung des Asklepios; seine Funktion als Heilgott scheint dort von Apollon Akesios erfüllt worden zu sein.", Pilz 2020, 178.

maturgical function is undoubtedly ancient in Elis<sup>92</sup> and can be explained by the conjunction of several factors such as the equivalence with the Athenian Alexikakos and an onomastic sequence with an archaic tint elaborated on a root whose healing meaning derives from epic sources:

(. . .) On aurait alors affaire à un ancien groupe d'anciens termes de caractère magique qui ont pu être dépréciés lorsque la médecine a commencé à devenir une science et supplantés par des termes nouveaux (. . .) On voit alors que sur le plan même de la langue épique, ἀκεῖσθαι est déjà une survivance ; une fois donné ἰᾶσθαι, ἀκεῖσθαι était voué à disparaître comme terme médical en même temps que se dévaluait la réalité qu'il exprimait.93

This explanation by Van Brock confirms the idea that the choice of Ἀκέσιος to qualify the Elean Apollo gives him a leading role in the city by reinforcing his primary healing prerogatives.

# 7 Ἀκέστωρ

Following Benveniste's morphological distribution of agent noun suffixes in ‑τήρ and ‑τωρ, this onomastic attribute belongs to the category designating the author of an act, more generally than the agent of a function with a specific charge. It is a unicum that is addressed to Phoibos (Apollo) in Euripides when Orestes finds Hermione, "O Phoibos Akestor, give us a resolution of these troubles!", <sup>94</sup> ὦ Φοῖβ' ἀκέστορ, πημάτων δοίης λύσιν. The majority of French, German or English translations relate this onomastic attribute back to the notion of healer. Benveniste himself explains the difference between ἀκέστωρ, Apollo "the one who heals" and ἀκεστήρ which designates the horse bit brake "intended to calm or tame (the horse)". <sup>95</sup> However, it is quite surprising that in one case the primary meaning of the suffixed root ("to heal") prevails, while in the other it is the weaker meaning ("to appease") that predominates. We are therefore led to ask ourselves what determines the meaning of an onomastic attribute: the divinity that carries it and the framework of elaboration or the etymology and morphology of the term. We have already seen above that the production of agent nouns obeyed alternation logics upon which recurrent syntactic phenomena were superimposed: nouns in ‑τήρ are thus often followed by a complement intended to specify the context in which their action is exercised, while nouns in ‑τωρ, more generic, do not require any overqualification. In the tragedy featuring this Apollo Akestor, no narrative element indicates the need to pray to the healing nature of the god: neither Orestes nor Hermione

For the healing functions of Apollo in the Homeric sources, Graf 2009, 66–68.

Van Brock 1961, 110.

E., Andr. 900. Unicum as an onomastic attribute. Otherwise, among others, Ath. 6.30 (237a) and IG IV, 729 (3rd c.).

Benveniste 1948, 45.

suffer from any illness. Therefore, it seems logical to detach this onomastic attribute from the field of thaumaturgic deities and to see it instead as a generic use, as Zeus Alexetor, placing Apollo in the saving role of one who will alleviate dramas and repair situations.

### 8 Ἐξακεστήρ, ἐξακεστήριος

These two onomastic elements are the only prefixed forms built on the verb root ἀκεῖσθαι and the contexts seem to have made their interpretation ambiguous, alternating between the ancient semantic meaning ("who cares") <sup>96</sup> and a purifying action.

The main document is a Solonian prescription reported by Pollux about an oath taken to three gods, "suppliant, purificator and exakester", <sup>97</sup> τρεῖς θεοὺς ὀμνύναι κελεύει Σόλων, ἱκέσιον καθάρσιον ἐξακεστῆρα. Here, we are dealing with a triple Zeus or three hypostases of the god, but the Athenian anchorage of the last two attributes is questionable.<sup>98</sup> The identification of the deity is assured by a gloss by Hesychius, "Exakesterios: Zeus and Hera", ἐξακεστήριος· ὁ Ζεὺς καὶἡἭρα. Other testimonies of the onomastic qualification are found in Magna Graecia, where it seems to have been fairly popular from as early as the 5th century.

A locally produced achromatic olpe from a late 5th-century Sicilian Grecoindigenous site bears the post-firing graffiti "of Zeus Exakester", <sup>99</sup> Διὸς ἐξακεστῆρος. The original editor saw a "healing" Zeus but the interpretation was later corrected to a "purifying" god.100 The cult of the chthonian deities and/or a Zeus Meilichios was attested from the 6th century BCE in Agrigento, although the vastness of the temple of Olympian Zeus101 leaves little doubt as to the importance of the latter's role. The excavations carried out on site at Monte Saraceno also seem to confirm the possibility of chthonian-type cult buildings.102

In the literal translation of the onomastic attribute.

Poll. 8.142.

"L'identité de la divinité n'est pas explicitée, mais il ne peut s'agir que de Zeus qui est le seul, pour ainsi dire, à se voir attribuer ces trois appellations" (Lebreton 2013, 67). Ibid. for the rejection of the Athenian origin of the last qualification. The cult of Zeus Katharsios is well known in Olympia, Thasos and Hyllarima. For the triple designation, see also Valdés Guía 1999, 45.

Calderone 1985, 102 = SEG 65, 774 = DB MAP S#11832.

Manganaro 1992, 205–206, but who bases his interpretation on the presence of numerous attestations of anthroponyms derived from the same prefixed root in the Agrigento region.

Unfinished due to the capture of the city by Carthage in 406. Monte Saraceno, after being controlled by Gela during the late 7th and early 6th centuries, came under the influence of Akragas (Agrigento) in the mid-6th c.

For a summary, Boffa 2015, 94.

At the same time, a fragment of a 4th-century-BCE inscription found at Velia103 with the restitution "of Zeus Exakesterios", [Ζηνὸς (?) Ἐ]ξακεστη[ρίου], provides the second attestation of this onomastic attribute in Magna Graecia. The restitution of Zeus nevertheless remains hypothetical,<sup>104</sup> the editor relying on the Solonian prescription reported by Pollux to justify it. "Mais cette épithète ("qui remédie aux malheurs") peut s'appliquer également à Héra et Apollon". <sup>105</sup> In a context of chthonian cults (to Hades, Persephone and Demeter), must the Eleatic deity Ἐξακεστήρ (the architrave bearing the inscription does not necessarily imply a suffixation in ‑ιος) be oriented towards Zeus and towards rescue prerogatives? There was an Apollo Oulios<sup>106</sup> in Velia and the city was renowned in the medical field. It seems that, regardless of the deity concerned, more importance should be given to a polysemy of the attribute, protective and healing, undoubtedly reflecting a state of local practices.

The practices of chthonian cults107 are well attested in Agrigento (now San Biagio), Velia<sup>108</sup> and Mons Saraceno, and the topographical conformation suggests that the Demeter worshipped did not only have prophetic functions: in San Biagio, her oracle was famous and the presence of a sacred cave, basins and water point to a healing action similar to the one well attested in Patras.109 Her therapeutic prerogatives are also depicted in literary sources,<sup>110</sup> Eleusinian cult practices and the association with Persephone and Asklepios in various sanctuaries. At Velia, three later inscriptions bear the names of physicians all named Oulis<sup>111</sup> and qualified as φώλαρχοι. <sup>112</sup> The term has been interpreted both as a reference to a medical school and as having a symbolic meaning referring to hidden liturgies of the physicians in Elea.<sup>113</sup> However, in the context of current understanding of the site and according to the original meaning of φωλέυω "to hide in a cave", it seems conceivable that it refers not

Infra s.v.

Latin name for Elaea. Miranda 1982, 169–171 = IGDGG I, 50 = DB MAP S#13971.

Other Eleatic Zeuses bore the onomastic attributes Ourios, Hellenios, Hypatos, Athenaios, Alastoros and perhaps Pompaios, if we follow Guarducci 1966, 284–287.

Morel 2000, 39.

Assuming that it designates propitiatory and purificatory rites linked to certain deities, which obviously include Demeter but also Zeus.

Velia and Naples gave priestesses of Demeter in Rome, Cic., Balb. 24.55. In Velia, the honoured Demeter would be a Thesmophoros with cult under Athenian influence: Stat., Silv. 4.8.50, speaking of Naples, evokes an Attic Ceres.

Paus. 7.21.11–12 for Patras. For Agrigento, Marconi 1929, 21ff. Although Le Dinahet 1984, 137–152.

From the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, 225–230 to the Orphic Hymn 39.20 where Demeter is referred to as "mistress of health". For an overview of the healing functions in Delos, for example, see Roussel 1987, 244, no. 5.

The link with the epithet of Apollo Oulios can be established. Infra s.v.

IG Velia, 22–24.

Rocca-Serra 1985, 169–74. Even Chantraine [1968–1980] 2009, s.v., translated as "head of a medical college".

only to a brotherhood of physicians, the Ouliades, but also to a subterranean place evoking a cave, and thus to healing practices in an oracular setting.

It should be added that water was an important element of the Eleatic cults and that the spring found on the site was exploited by local doctors from the 6th century, then diverted to the sanctuary of Asklepios via a large canalisation in the 3rd century,<sup>114</sup> but also used in healing practices linked to the chthonian deities of the site. All this archaeological and textual data validates the role of Demeter as a healer at these sites of Magna Graecia.

Once the framework in which the Zeus Exakester evolves is established,<sup>115</sup> what functions should he have? The term "purificator", very often used to translate the epithet, does not account for the etymology but successfully maintains a semantic ambiguity: in the Solonian oath, it is clear that the environment is above all political and the sequence of the three onomastic qualifications is there to show that Zeus purifies the whole city. This is undoubtedly also the meaning intended by Dionysios of Halicarnassos<sup>116</sup> who associates, without any given context, two invocations "to the exakesterioi and apotropaic gods", θεοῖς ἐξακεστηρίοις τε καὶ ἀποτροπαίοις.

On the other hand, it would be wrong to reduce this Zeus Exakester to a single expiatory meaning in a civic setting. The older existence of this god in Magna Graecia once again shows the adaptation of onomastic sequences to local cultic contexts. Besides the Zeus of Agrigento with different virtues (Meilichios or Olympian), the Zeus Exakester of the satellite site of Monte Saraceno and of Velia present chthonian functions linked to Demeter's healing nature. If we also note that the ancient medical meaning of the verb ἐξακέομαι was maintained even in the Hippocratic corpus,117 we have a wide semantic range that reflects the functional plurality of Zeus, from therapeutic prerogatives in Greek colonies to civic "offices" <sup>118</sup> in an Athenian context.

### 9 Οὔλιος

Only one occurrence of this onomastic attribute concerns Artemis, the others are devoted to Apollo. The cult of Apollo Oulios, "the one who brings health", well documented by epigraphic and literary sources, was established in Miletus, Delos, Rhodes

Pugliese Caratelli 1986, 227–236. Tocco Sciarelli 1999, 61–65 and Idem 2000, 51–58 and especially 56 for Asklepios.

For a possible link between the city of Elea and a chthonian Zeus in the Agrigentine sphere, see Boffa 2015, 95.

D.H. 10.2.6.

Hp., Vict. 3.67 or Mochl. 25.

Respecting the meaning of the suffix ‑τήρ in the names of functional agents according to Benveniste 1948.

and Cos.119 Velia also honoured the god under this attribute judging by the mention of the term "Ouliades", Οὐλιάδης in two Eleatic inscriptions evoking Parmenides on the one hand and a ἰατρό[μαντις]... Ἀπολλ ̣ω[νος] on the other,120 the Ouliades being to Apollo Oulios what the Asklepiades were to Asklepios, according to the interpretations.121

However, the epithet presents a semantic ambiguity. Although it is derived from the verb οὔλειν, "to be in good health", it oscillates between a positive meaning, which most lexicographers use, and a negative meaning, "fatal", which already exists in the epic sources.

The "good health" meaning would come from a contamination with the adjective ὅλος, which would thus refer to physical integrity: to be in good health is to be in completely good condition. Alongside the shortened definitions of Hesychius, with e.g. "οὐλεῖν: keep healthy", οὐλείοιεν· ἐν ὑγεία φυλάσσοιεν, Strabo<sup>122</sup> comments on the Apollonian attribute directly:

Oulios is the name that Milesians and Delians give to a specific Apollo, otherwise known as Apollo who provides health, god who heals, because the word οὔλειν means to be healthy: it is derived from the word οὐλή, <sup>123</sup> and is found in the formula "οὖλέ τε καὶ μέγα χαῖρε". <sup>124</sup> Apollo is indeed the healer, and so is Artemis, whose name comes from ἀρτεμέας. 125

Οὔλιον δ' Ἀπόλλωνα καλοῦσί τινα καὶ Μιλήσιοι Δήλιοι, οἷον ὑγιαστικὸν καὶ παιωνικόν· τὸ γὰρ οὔλειν ὑγιαίνειν, ἀφ' οὗ καὶ τὸ οὐλὴ καὶ τό "οὖλέ τε καὶ μέγα χαῖρε." Ἰατικὸς γὰρ ὁ Ἀπόλλων∙ καὶ ἡ Ἄρτεμις ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρτεμέας ποιεῖν.

The negative meaning, "fatal, disastrous", is paradoxically given by the same sources, and Hesychius, in the space of a few lines of each other, gives the definition "bad health: painful", ὀλοόν κακόν, χαλεπόν: however, he is only adopting the meaning already used for a long time in the Tragics or in Hesiod,126 for example, who twice qualifies "Ares, a fatal god", οὔλιος Ἄρης.

As the older attestations support an earlier negative meaning, there have been attempts to explain the extreme semantic variation of the adjective, even outside the epicletic sphere.<sup>127</sup>

In the Iliad, for example, 5.515, ἀρτεμής means 'safe and sound'.

For the details, see the results partially recorded in the MAP database s.v., in Masson 1988, 173–183, no. 3–4, and the detailed commentary on the sources in Nissen 2009.

IG Velia 21 and 19. For the latter, restitutions vary, Ebner 1970, 262–267.

For the discussion of all interpretations of the links between Oulios, Ouliades and Oulis, see Morel 2000, 43, n. 102.

Str. 14.1.6.

The scar, i.e. the healed wound.

Tardieu's translation reads "health and great joy". I would use the French word "salut" but prudently, I will not translate or comment on this exclamation.

S., Aj. 932, οὐλίῳ σὺν πάθει, Hes., Sc. 192 and 441.

"Le glissement de sens se serait produit par le biais du vocatif οὖλε, 'salut !' – au sens d'intégrité physique et de santé – attesté dans l'Odyssée (24, 402), dans la formule citée par Strabon ; interprété

So, how should we consider the Apollonian epithet? In fact, this semantic ambivalence perfectly fits with the ambiguity of the god (or the inverse, but the sources do not allow us to affirm this) and has two explanations, one based on the etiological crucible of the god, the other on a language phenomenon identified in Greek literary sources. In the Iliad, Apollo sends the plague to men after Agamemnon violates the honour of his priest, Chryses, who asks the god to intercede to punish them.<sup>128</sup> The phenomenon of punishment in the form of divine disease is a well-worn narrative pattern in antiquity,129 but while the redress of evil is sometimes accomplished by a mediator, a priest or purifying diviner (kathartes), in the case of Apollo, the god himself provides the cure. Other primary sources refer to the link between Apollo and the plague,<sup>130</sup> whether in a figurative or medical sense: Hesiod131 emphasises his founding role in the deliverance from this evil of the plague inflicted by Zeus, since only the consultation of Apollo's oracle will allow men to be purified of hidden sexual and blood crimes. This duality of the Apollonian personality runs through Greek history, from the conflict between Achilles and Agamemnon to the Great Plague of Athens, where the god is still the protagonist. At the same time, the "ambivalent" character of the onomastic attribute οὔλιος is fully justified in a language well versed in enantiosemia, <sup>132</sup> the most famous example given in Sophocles,<sup>133</sup> "We call them Eumenides, so that with well-wishing power they may receive the suppliant as his saviors", ὥς σφας καλοῦμεν Εὐμενίδας, ἐξ εὐμενῶν στέρνων δέχεσθαι τὸν ἱκέτην.

The bisemic and antinomic onomastic element attributed to Apollo thus evokes both one of the most characteristic aspects of the god's personality, his ability to be fatal in chastising humans, as well as his positive capacity to grant health, thus perhaps reserving the function of healing god stricto sensu for Paean134 but above all for Apollo Iatros with whom he has many affinities.

Let us relate the significance of this Apollo Oulios to the rare occurrences of a Dionysos Hygiates, introduced by a quote in Athenaeus<sup>135</sup> and adopted again in the 12th century CE by Eustathius of Thessalonica, where the virtues of wine consumed in measured quantities are reported, "This is why Dionysos is invoked everywhere as a physician (iatros). The Pythia even ordered some to invoke Dionysos as the god of

comme un impératif, ce terme aurait donné naissance au verbe οὔλειν, 'être en bonne santé'", according to Nissen 2009.

Hom., Il. 1.8.

Burkert 1994, 27–40 and esp. 28–30.

Petridou 2016, 175–176.

Hes., Op. 242–245. For the plague "constitutive of classical Greek political thought" see, among others, Dupont 1984, 511–524.

Palamidis 2019, 191–236, § 78 esp.

S., OC 486.

To whom he may have been assimilated: "Greeks and Romans could use epithets alone to stand in for a divine name, such as Delius for Apollo or Olympios for Zeus", Graf 2009, 67.

Ath. 2.2 (36b).

health (hugiates)...", διὸ καὶ καλεῖσθαι τὸν Διόνυσον πανταχοῦ ἰατρόν. ἡ δὲ Πυθία εἴρηκέ τισι Διόνυσον ὑγιάτην καλεῖν.

The link between Dionysos and Delphi was already known in the 5th century since the god was represented on the western pediment of the temple of Apollo, his tomb was in the adyton, and in the Apollonian cult, Dionysos served as a "substitute" during Apollo's absence in the winter months.<sup>136</sup> A Paean to Dionysos<sup>137</sup> written by Philodamos of Scarpheus in the 340s, discovered at Delphi, refers to the god of wine as "lord of health", ἄνα ̣ξ ὑγιείας.

This is a rare case of a divine qualification built on the root used for the word ὑγιής. Even more than Οὔλιος, perhaps, this root operates against disease: ὑγιάζειν means "to heal" and its passive successfully replaces the sometimes syntactically unsuitable forms of ἰᾶσθαι. <sup>138</sup> The iamata of Epidaurus, on the other hand, employ the formula "he went out in good health", ὑγιὴς έξῆλθε, <sup>139</sup> by introducing an underlying idea of care into this concise sequence, related to the previous state of the patient upon their arrival at the sanctuary. The term ὑγιάτης qualifying Dionysos includes this same notion of healing that provides good health, while expressly linking it to wine, the god's attribute par excellence. Is it strictly speaking an onomastic attribute? No place of worship is clearly attested and one may wonder if it is not, like Iatros for Dionysos, an explanatory qualification of the god rather than a functional onomastic attribute.

# 10 Ἰητήρ/Ἰατρός

Remarkably, the root of the verb ἰᾶσθαι has given rise to only two onomastic attributes which seem to be interchangeable depending on the written sources in which they are found, ἰητήρ and ἰατρός, and which have the peculiarity of being essentially related to Apollo.140

Plu., Moral., Letter E 389 c.

SEG 32, 552, 153. Also Calame 2009, 171–179 and most recently Brillet-Dubois 2018, 40 in particular.

Van Brock 1961, 156 for the various terms of the same family.

IG IV².1, 121, 33 et passim.

We will set aside the term ἰατρός applied to Dionysos, which is never an onomastic attribute but appears as a qualification with explanatory value in Ath. 1.22e; 2.36b; Paus. 10.33.11, and notably in Plu., Moral. 647a, without any sanctuary being known: "Dionysos was regarded as a good physician, not only for having invented the use of wine, which is the most effective and pleasant remedy", Ὁ δὲ Διόνυσος οὐ μόνον τῷ τὸν οἶνον εὑρεῖν, ἰσχυρότατον φάρμακον καὶ ἥδιστον, ἰατρὸς ἐνομίσθη μέτριος. See the synthesis in Lungu 2022, 71–100. Likewise, the complicated sequence "to the benevolent Mother of the Gods doctor (and to?) Aphrodite", Μητρὶ Θεῶν εὐαντή< τῳ > ἰατρίνῃ Ἀφροδίτῃ engraved on the base of a statuette found in Piraeus (IG II³.4, 1324 = DB MAP S#3537) and dating to the 2nd or 1 st c. would require a full article of its own as there are so many interpretations. In any case, it is certain that the syntax prevents the qualifier "ἰατρίνη" from being associated with Aphrodite, especially

Let's take a look at Asklepios himself, described sometimes as Ἰατρός and sometimes as Ἰητήρ. The rarity of his qualification is worth highlighting, although one may struggle to understand why the god of medicine par excellence needs to receive such an obvious qualification.

"Asklepios Iatros" is known from Pausanias: "Then in Balagrai of Cyrenaica there is an Asklepios called Iatros who also comes from Epidaurus", <sup>141</sup> Τὸ δ' ἐν Βαλάγραις ταῖς Κυρηναίων ἐστὶν Ἀσκληπιὸς καλούμενος Ἰατρὸς ἐξ Ἐπιδαύρου καὶ οὗτος. Two inscriptions confirm this onomastic sequence, one also from Balagrai,<sup>142</sup> and almost contemporary with Pausanias, with a dedication to "Asklepios Balagreites Physician", [Ἀσκληπ]ίωι∙Βαλαγρείτη Ἰητρῶι, the other being a religious regulation from Cyrene<sup>143</sup> from the 2nd century BCE indicating sacrifices to the "Physician, a pig", Ἰατρῶι ὗς, in which the noun Iatros in epithet position qualifies Asklepios without the need to name him.<sup>144</sup>

In the 3rd or 4th century CE, Vedius Alkisthenes, advocate of the treasury and sacred finances, makes an offering at the sanctuary of Asklepios in Lebena,145 addressing his dedication to "Zeus Sarapis (and) Asklepios Physician, Titanios, Lebenean", Διὶ Σεράπιδι Ἀσκληπιῷ ἰατρῷ Τειτανίῳ Λεβηναίῳ. Just like the complex sequence from Balagrai, the second and third epithets are toponymic. Titane, not far from Sicyon, was home to a sanctuary to Asklepios from the 5th century even though Pausanias' mention<sup>146</sup> of a xoanon of Coronis carried to the sanctuary of Athena seems to imply pre-existing cults. How are we to understand the juxtaposition of the functional onomastic sequence and two toponymic attributes in this inscription? It must undoubtedly be put into perspective in the context of the period. The sanctuary of Lebena was founded by the arrival of the god in the 4th century and at a moment when Asklepieia were flourishing throughout Greece. To mention Asklepios Lebenaean, but also Titanian, in the 4th century CE is to underline the antiquity of the sanctuary by recalling

since two other parallel texts have no mention of the goddess. The translation of the late term is ambiguous: after presumably designating the midwife, the term underwent a semantic expansion to mean only the female equivalent of ἰατρός. Van Brock 1961, 66–67.

Paus. 2.26.9.

SEG 26, 1818 = DB MAP S#3678.

CGRN 190 = DB MAP S#2531, col. A.

Not to be confused with the unknown Hero Iatros, sometimes called only "Iatros" at Rhamnous, e.g. IG II<sup>3</sup> .4, 921 = DB MAP S#1450. Reference is made here to Graf 2006: "The (few and late) texts also present their proper names: Amphilochos (Athens near the Agora), Aristomachos (Marathon), Oresinios (Eleusis), Aristomachos (Rhamnous; also identified with Amphiaraos). The inscriptions almost always use the functional titles: the respective worshippers were only interested in the healing power; a mythology, where applicable, was secondary."

I.Cret. I, xvii, 27 = DB MAP S#11497. A single deity may have been seen in this sequence, Renberg 2017, 344, no. 27.

Paus. 2.11.2. Lolos 2005, 275–298.

its origin, and thus the preponderant role that Asklepios<sup>147</sup> still plays many centuries later, as attested by its rehabilitation by Julian at the end of the 4th century CE.

In parallel, a late epigram from Macedonia, already mentioned above, evokes the statue of a "healing Asklepios", <sup>148</sup> Ἀσκληπιὸν ἰητῆρα and another epigram, very incomplete, found in the sanctuary of Asklepios of Pergamon<sup>149</sup> famous from the 4th century includes the restored sequence "of the temenos of Asklepios the healer", 150 τέμενος δ' ἱκόμην Ἀ]σκληπιοῦ [ἰητῆρος].

To this group, where Asklepios is ἰητήρ, we shall add a dedication partly in hexameters, where Q. Valerius Iulianus of Smyrna<sup>151</sup> offers "to Asklepios Healer, a statue of Zeus Soter with a silvery plaster base", Ἀσκληπιῷ ἰητῆρι Διὸς Σωτῆρος ἄγαλμα σὺν βάσει ἀργυρέῃ γύψου μεστῇ, in a wish to attract a double protection, salvific and therapeutic.

This is probably a good place to make a distinction between the forms ἰητήρ and ἰατρός which, as we have said, seem to take on the same meaning in the textual sources that cite them. This is apparently also the case in the epic language, which uses both terms almost equally.

Two examples can be cited which nevertheless allow us to temper this assumption of equivalence by recalling the suffix distinctions put forward by Benveniste: the first is in the Homeric hymn to Asklepios, where he is described as "healer of diseases", ἰητῆρα νόσων Ἀσκληπιὸν. The second in the Iliad, <sup>152</sup> that describes Machaon as the "son of Asklepios, the excellent healer" φῶτ' Ἀσκληπιοῦ υἱόν, ἀμύμονος ἰητῆρος, which parallels the phrase "he too, now needing an excellent healer" χρηΐζοντα καὶ αὐτὸν ἀμύμονος ἰητῆρος, when he is wounded. Let us recall here that in the Iliad, Asklepios is still only a mortal physician not elevated to the rank of a god. The term ἰητήρ is thus not working epicletically here but it already concerns Asklepios and, following Benveniste, the suffix ‑τήρ indicates the agent of a function who has a mission. Many modern translations use "physician" rather than "healer", <sup>153</sup> but we have retained it here to distinguish it from ἰατρός and to avoid any risk of anachronism.

In the later prosaic language, on the other hand, ἰατρός becomes the only form in use, whether in technical language or not: this is the practician, who has become a recognised professional, and the value of the suffix ‑τρός against ‑τήρ is a specialisation derived from the name of the agent, an assimilation to a specific activity.

Burgeon 2021, 279–294.

IG X.2.2 302 = DB MAP S#16445. 3rd century CE, with a relief of the Dioskouroi.

See the always useful synthesis by Roulet 1952, 1–8.

SEG 28, 974 = DB MAP S#16555. The full rendition of the text by Peek 1978, 710, is described as "étourdissante" by L. Robert in BE 1979, no. 385.

I.Smyrna 757 = DB MAP S#5486.

Il. 4.190. and Il. 11.835.

On the other hand, according to Benveniste 1948, 46, the ἰάτωρ is "one who performs or has performed a healing".

Van Brock's confrontation154 between two verses of the Iliad concerning Machaon and Podaleirios, the sons of Asklepios, sheds some light on the interpretation to be given to the two terms used later as onomastic attributes:155 ἰητῆρ' ἀγαθώ, Ποδαλείριος ἠδὲ Μαχάων, and ἰητροὶ μὲν γὰρ Ποδαλείριος Μαχάων: "ἰητρός est le nom du 'praticien', de celui qui exerce l'art de la médecine, alors que ἰητήρ semble présenter tout simplement un caractère de grandeur laudative et apparaît spécialisé comme une épithète décorative".

By looking back at the onomastic qualifications given to Asklepios in the abovementioned texts, the distinction between ἰατρός and ἰητήρ is easily explained: the second epithet is a poetic survival of the Ionian form adopted in the oldest sources,156 whereas Asklepios Iatros, as designated in sanctuaries founded by the god in Epidaurus, Cyrene or Lebena is, once again, not tautologically overqualified, but simply named for his "professionalization", his univocal agency within a pantheon where every other god has several functions.

Besides these rare occurrences of Asklepios Ἰάτρος/ Ἰητήρ, the major deity that has benefited from the onomastic attribute Ἰατρός is Apollo.

The point is not to review the history of the cult or to enumerate the textual occurrences.157 In Greece proper, the first textual references to him as a physician seem to be literary, when he is commissioned to cure eyes gouged out by birds: "Moreover, let the ravens (. . .) gouge out their eyes, as a proof, and then let the physician Apollo heal them; he is paid for this", <sup>158</sup> οἱ δ᾽ αὖ κόρακες (. . .) τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς ἐκκοψάντων ἐπὶ πείρᾳ: εἶθ᾽ ὅ γ᾽ Ἀπόλλων ἰατρός γ᾽ ὢν ἰάσθω: μισθοφορεῖ δέ.

But it is especially in the Milesian colonies of the Black Sea that Apollo Iatros is venerated from the beginning of the 6th century BCE, as in Sinope, Panticapaea, Olbia, or Histria; the doctor-god<sup>159</sup> was the patron of Apollonia, where his sanctuary housed

Van Brock 1961, 10. Similarly, ἰᾶσθαι denotes the achievement of the resultative treatment, while ἰατρεύειν is its accomplishment.

Hom., Il. 2.732 and Il., 11.833.

And the restitution of ἰητῆρος in the Pergamenian epigram is thus justified whereas it might have been understood that the local Asklepios was designated as a physician.

Ustinova 2009, 245–299. For the occurrences, see the MAP database s.v. Ἰατρός / Ἰητρός (Ε#663). Some of the textual occurrences of Apollo Iatros are merely a manifestation of the importance of his cult in the cities concerned. IGDOP 58 = DB MAP S#3839, "to Apollo Physician who reigns over Istros", Ἀπόλλωνι Ἰη ̣τ ̣ρ[ῶι] Ἴστρο μεδέον ̣τ[ι]; IGDOP 57 = DB MAP S#3838 "to Apollo Physician who reigns over Borysthenes", [Ἀ]πόλλωνι Ἰητ{τ}ρῶι Βορυσθένε[ος μεδέοντι]. On the onomastic sequences including gods "who reign over" + toponym, see Lebreton 2022.

Ar., Av. 585. The salary refers to the physicians of the period who treated the patients in exchange for a fee.

The cult of Apollo Medicus developed in parallel in Rome, where it was introduced in 431: "The plague silenced public dissension for that year. A temple was dedicated to Apollo for public healing", Liv. 4.25.3.

a 13-metre-high cult statue, the work of Calamis,<sup>160</sup> which was later taken to Rome. The explanation generally put forward to justify the creation of the cult to this Apollo Iatros is climatic:161 the fact that the colonies of Miletus were more subject to the rigours of the northern cold than the Carian coasts meant that their populations would have very quickly felt the need to attract the favours of a medical god. However, there is no proof of this causality and the choice of the place of installation of Asklepieia, for example, was never made according to the climatic conditions inherent to a region but often because of the topographic conditions suitable for the establishment of this type of sanctuary.162

The development of the cult carried by the onomastic qualification of Apollo Iatros is significant. The therapeutic prerogatives of Apollo precede those of his son Asklepios; in Epidaurus, the sanctuary of Apollo Maleatas was founded in the 8th century BCE; in the textual sources, very soon after Homer, there was an assimilation of Apollo and Paean as a healing god. Nevertheless, from the 4th century BCE onwards, the rapid rise of Asklepios as the main god of medicine caused Apollo's primary role in this function163 to fade. The mention of Ἰατρός next to the name of the god was then both a political means of reaffirming his role in the face of Asklepieian pre-eminence and also to mark the religious independence of the Pontic colonies from Miletus, the Ionian metropolis.

In the epigraphic sources, in addition to the fixed formulae where the god Apollo Physician reigns over the cities of the Black Sea, a vase<sup>164</sup> from the middle of the 5th century contains an engraved dedication to "Apollo Delphinian, Physician, Thargelian, Lycian, on behalf of Andokides". This is a rare case of a multiple onomastic sequence for Apollo. Beyond all the comments to which this graffiti may have given rise, we must retain once again a desire in a Milesian colony to underline an original link between the metropolis, where Apollo was venerated under the epithet of Delphinios<sup>165</sup> and Lykeios, and the specifically Olbian figure of the god under his qualification "Physician", which did not exist in Miletus. Far from reproducing the Milesian religious scheme as it is, the cult of this Apollo in Olbia shows, on the contrary, an integration

Apparently specialised in statues of Apollo with healing virtues, in the 5th c., Calamis was the author of the statue of Apollo Alexikakos that Pausanias says he saw in the Athenian agora, 1.3.4.

Graf 2009, 70: "Settling so far north in a climate that is much harsher than the climate of Turkey's west coast, the settlers must have felt an acute need for divine protection of their health: this explains the rise of Apollo 'Doctor'."

For the reasons of the supra-local character of Asklepieia, Prêtre 2019, 175–187.

However, in most of the Asklepieia, Apollo is present next to Asklepios as father and pre-existing healing deity. See the Paean of Isyllos: "Not even at Trikka in Thessaly can you be tempted to descend into the adyton of Asklepios, without first offering a sacrifice on the pure altar of Apollo Maleatas" (IG IV2 .1, 128 = DB MAP S#11032, l. 29–31).

IGDOP 99. For a summary of the comments, DB MAP T#9108 in particular: "Notice the incorrect form Δηλφινίωι, the atticism Ἰατρο͂ι, and the possible testimony of Θαργήλιος as divine epithet (no parallel known so far)". Feraru 2015, 13–46.

Without primary connection with Delphi. On the cult of Apollo Lykeios in Miletus, see Graf 1985, 220–225.

of Ionian elements with the well-established local identity of Apollo Iatros, which was perhaps characterised by indigenous beliefs.<sup>166</sup> His temple was built in Olbia before that of Delphinios, who was later elected as the tutelary deity of the new Olbian citizens,167 and the onomastic sequence underlines the interactions that existed in a cultural and religious cosmopolitanism, far from any competition between the different Apollonian prerogatives.168

### 11 Conclusions

At the end of this study, we can ask ourselves whether the healing onomastic attributes and the deities attached to them present a particularity in regard to the whole onomastic system qualifying the society of the gods.

Alongside the gods with proteiform personalities intended to respond to the wide range of human needs, the functional uniqueness of Asklepios stands out, which immediately places him on the fringes of any attempt to aggregate him into a pantheon, be it panhellenic or local. The distribution of onomastic attributes according to the deities is generally explained by each of their characters. Asklepios, "under-qualified" in statistical terms compared to the other gods, is not "over-qualified" as soon as an onomastic attribute is added to him. In an effect that verges on pleonasm, the onomastic qualification of Asklepios Iatros gives no detailed information about his role, which is obviously known. Whether emphatic or tautological, whatever value one sees in it, it simply serves to establish the full quality of "actor" (unlike the suffix ‑τωρ of the author of an act and the suffix ‑τήρ of the agent of an action), at a time when the creation of Asklepieia ran in parallel to the rise of rational medicine. Attaching Iatros to Asklepios is more like giving him his title (as we address a doctor nowadays as "Doctor So-and-So") than insisting on a qualification that is pre-acquired. On the other hand, the two epithets Ἀλεξίπονος and Ἀπαλεξίκακος displace him from the sphere of active healing by introducing a combatant idea that corresponds well to the imagery created around Asklepios from the 4th century BCE onwards: as a god with a unique activity in among the functional polymorphism of the other deities, he does not fit with the usually transcendent character of the deities of the Greek pantheon, but rather gives the impression of a divinity closer to humans, their behaviour, their emotions and therefore their reactions.<sup>169</sup> It is therefore not altogether incongruous

As with the Thracian divine healer Zalmoxis, Ustinova 2009, 273.

Bravo 2000, 221–266, and esp. 237–241.

Ustinova 2009, 264: "It is difficult to imagine that the paternal cult of Apollo Delphinios had to struggle its way against an opposition in a Milesian colony, or that the newcomers would risk insulting Apollo Iatros already worshipped in the city. The rise of Delphinios in Olbia to the rank of the patron of the city was most likely a gradual process."

Prêtre 2021, 69–75.

to grant him an intention of pugnacity thanks to an onomastic qualification built on a root with derivatives so frequent in the warrior world of the epic.

Functional onomastic sequences involving Asklepios are nonetheless rare. This is essentially due to the singular nature already mentioned. From the perspective of the devotees, the exchange with the god of medicine, the prayers, the offerings or the gratefulness, have an obvious universal character that exempts itself de facto from onomastic attributes. He is invoked for all sorts of diseases, and the pathologies in the iamata, and also later Aelius Aristides, are there to testify to this.

Given the functional supremacy of Asklepios, why invoke other deities by adding a healing onomastic attribute to them? The answer undoubtedly lies in a historical and local level linked to the cities. Besides the supra-local character of the Asklepieion of Epidaurus or the vast influence of some other great sanctuaries to the god, the specific needs of the patients/worshipers introduce the necessity of having divine interlocutors that are geographically closer. By giving healing onomastic attributes to Apollo, Zeus or Herakles, one recognises their specific virtues: the local anchorage is often attested by a toponymic epithet but the thaumaturgical powers of the gods are specified by all these functional qualifications studied here. The need creates the onomastic sequence and the onomastic sequence creates the cult, to summarise this provocatively. Only the family of Asklepios benefits from places of worship while being generally exempt from onomastic attributes characterising them. On the other hand, the sanctuaries of the other healing gods are dedicated to Apollo Iatros or Herakles Alexikakos, for example. The idea of the coexistence of two types of deities, one generic and pantheonic, the other specifically for meeting local requirements, is not new. There have been many studies devoted to a single divine figure, in his generic form and in his "epicletic" particularities, linked to historical and geographical circumstances. However, the analysis carried out here starts from the nouns and not from the deities; in this sense, it moves the reflection rather from the society of the gods to that of men. In the world of healing deities, the distribution of functions is not based on a single divine figure that would be particularised according to place and necessity, but is carried out between the univocal personality of Asklepios, devoid of any plasticity, and the other gods, whose labile character lends itself to all kinds of onomastic creations according to the demands.

Two questions then remain. If we have succeeded in demonstrating the adaptability of the gods to therapeutic emergencies, why not apply the healing onomastic attributes to a broader set of gods? The pre-eminence of the figures of Apollo, Zeus and Herakles in this field is due above all to their primary quality. We will refrain from returning to the healing powers of Apollo, linked to his ability to trigger and then cure epidemics, whether they are characterised by real pathologies or symbolic of the ills of the city. The onomastic qualification of Pean is the most obvious one to designate the ancient medical activity of the god.

Herakles, for his part, has long been accepted in the classical pantheon as a god with therapeutic virtues. His strength is synonymous with a good constitution and the Athenian cult devoted to him coincides with the Great Plague without incident. Demosthenes mentions it during the second oracle in the Against Midias, "let sacrifices be made for health and let Zeus Hypatos, Herakles and Apollo Prostaterios be prayed to", Περὶ ὑγιείας θύειν καὶ εὔχεσθαι Διὶ ὑπάτῳ, Ἡρακλεῖ, Ἀπόλλωνι προστατηρίῳ. Wedged between two gods whose onomastic attributes have a broad protective value, Herakles is exempted by implicitly referring to the mentioned health. Finally, Zeus, whose onomastic qualification Exakester is semantically ambiguous, is probably the god with the least obvious healing functions. Nevertheless, we will recall, for example, his ability to cure Io's madness with simple touch, as Aeschylus tells us:

There at last Zeus restores you to your senses by the mere stroke and touch of his unterrifying hand. And you shall bring forth dark Epaphos, thus named from the manner of Zeus' engendering.170

tἐνταῦθα δή σε Ζεὺς τίθησιν ἔμφρονα ἐπαφῶν ἀταρβεῖ χειρὶ καὶ θιγὼν μόνον. Ἐπώνυμον δὲ τῶν Διὸς γεννημάτων τέξεις κελαινὸν Ἔπαφον.

Therefore, the reason for this restricted divine field undoubtedly lies in an ancient background inherent to the nature of the gods' recipients of a healing onomastic attribute.

Finally, are we able to attempt a classification of the healing onomastic sequences? The stages of the healing process mentioned in the introduction are a means of studying them, depending on whether the divinities are invoked in a propitiatory manner to repel the disease, or in a gratulatory manner to be cured and then delivered from it. Nevertheless, the distribution is random, as the variety of texts does not reflect the moment of prayer to a specific god.

The semantic approach is undoubtedly the one that yields the most surprising conclusions about the language phenomena. Instead of regularly drawing from the ancient crucible of the large families of words related to illness, the Greeks used original lexical fields to create onomastic attributes, and the root \*alk, "to put off", is the most productive next to the more expected root \*ak. It would still be necessary to understand how the creation and repartition of onomastic attributes takes place, depending on whether they reflect a cult (via inscriptions) or are cited in literary sources.

Last but not least, there is a clear distribution of qualifiers according to the deities: to Asklepios, god of medicine, onomastic attributes in the broadest and most univocal sense, to the other deities, polysemous onomastic sequences playing on multiple registers: here again, next to the Asklepian singularity, the onomastic attributes of the other gods echoed the multiplicity of cultic realities linked above all to concrete experiences and specific needs.

A., Pr. 849. Verbanck-Piérard 2000, 292: "Zeus pourrait également être investi en Attique de pouvoirs guérisseurs remontant à un substrat assez ancien".

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Benveniste, Emile (1948), Noms d'agent et noms d'action en indo-européen, Paris.

Boffa, Giovanni (2015), "La rifondazione timoleontea di Agrigento e lo Zeus Exakester", in: Studia Antica, 87–100.

Bravo, Benedetto (2011), "Luoghi di culto nella chora di Olbia Pontica", in: Problemi della chora coloniale dall'Occidente al Mar Nero. Atti del 40° Convegno di Studi sulla Magna Grecia, Taranto, 29 settembre – 3 ottobre 2000, Taranto, 221–266.

Brillet-Dubois, Pascale (2018), "Philodamos et Delphes", in: Jean-Marc Luce (ed.), Delphes et la littérature d'Homère à nos jours, Nancy, 63–76.

Brulé, Pierre (1998), "Le langage des épiclèses dans le polythéisme hellénique (l'exemple de quelques divinités féminines)", in: Kernos 11, 13–34.

Burgeon, Christophe (2021), "La figure d'Asclépios durant le règne de Julien et le Christ johannique : deux figures antithétiques ou parallèles ?", in: Kentron 36, 279–294.

Burkert, Walter (1994), "Causalité religieuse: la faute, les signes, les rites", in: Mètis 9–10, 27–40.

Calame, Claude (2009), "Apollo in Delphi and in Delos: Poetic Performances between Paean and Dithyramb", in: Lucia Athanassaki / Richard Martin / John Miller (eds.), Apolline Politics and Poetics. International Symposium, Delphi 1–11 July 2003, Athens, 169–197.

Calderone, Antonio (1985), Greci e indigeni nella valle dello Himera, Messina.

Chantraine, Pierre [1968–1989] (2009), Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque: histoire des mots, Paris.

Croon, J. H. (1967), "Hot Springs and Healing Gods", in: Mnemosyne 20, 3, 225–246.

De Schutter, Xavier (1987), "Le culte d'Apollon Patrôos à Athènes", in: L'Antiquité Classique 56, 103–129.

Dupont, Florence (1984), "Pestes d'hier, pestes d'aujourd'hui", in: Histoire, économie et société, 4, 511–524.

Ebner, Pietro (1970), "Nuove Iscrizioni di Velia", in: La Parola del Passato, 25, 130–133, 262–267.


Frontisi-Ducroux, Françoise (1981), "Artémis bucolique", in: Revue de l'histoire des religions 198, 29–56.

Gallet de Santerre, Hubert (1947), "Alexandre le Grand et Kymé d'Éolide", in: Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 71–72, 302–306.

Graf, Fritz (1979), "Apollon Delphinios", in: Museum Helveticum 36, 2–22.

Graf, Fritz (1985), Nordionische Kulte: religionsgeschichtliche und epigraphische Untersuchungen zu den Kulten von Chios, Erythrai, Klazomenai und Phokaia, Roma.

Graf, Fritz (2006), "Iatros", in: Hubert Cancik / Helmuth Schneider (eds.), Brill's New Pauly. http://dx.doi. org/10.1163/1574-9347\_bnp\_e521530 (seen 09.04.2022).

Graf, Fritz (2009), Apollo, London / New York.

Guarducci, Margherita (1966), "Divinità fauste nell'antica Velia", in: La Parola del Passato 21, 108–110, 284–287.

Heinz, Margarete (1998), Thessalische Votivstelen: epigraphische Auswertung, Typologie der Stelenformen, Ikonographie der Reliefs, PhD Thesis, Bochum Univ.

Jordan, David (1992), "The Inscribed Lead Tablet from Phalasarna", in: Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 94, 191–194.

Kawerau Georg / Rehm Albert (eds.) (1914), Milet. Das Delphinion in Milet (Milet 1, 3), Berlin. Kolde, Antje (2003), Politique et religion chez Isyllos d'Épidaure, Bâle.


Multifunktionalität supralokaler Heiligtümer von der frühen Archaik bis in die römische Kaiserzeit, Stuttgart, 175–187.

	- (Rom, 1.–2. Juli 1993), Wien, 61–65.

Part 3: Names and Images

# Adeline Grand-Clément and Christoph Uehlinger Introduction

There is a large consensus among scholars that, as a rule, divine images played a central role in ancient religion and were of prime importance, acting as media that enabled the ritually framed encounter of humans with gods and goddesses. However, such a statement requires some qualification: that "ancient religion" was in its essence focused on the cult of images, or "idolatry" is, after all, a formative discursive topos and one of the most persisting stereotypes used by Jews, Christians and others in their religiously motivated rejection of traditional ways of interacting with the divine.1 Historians of religion should be careful not to buttress this stereotype in their study of the role images played in ancient religion. Their evaluation must be grounded on strictly historical foundations, that is, based on documented evidence provided by archaeology, epigraphy and the study of ancient literature from an anthropological perspective. An important starting point for the study of ancient religion may therefore be to recognise that ancient religion did not always focus on images and image-related practices, neither permanently, necessarily nor essentially.

That being said, images and image-related practices were important to many, in various respects and different contexts, from individuals to communities or collectives and from domestic to official, institutional and, at times, even state religion. Tuned to distinguish the contingent and circumstantial from larger patterns and resilient structures, historians will want to account for the variety of contexts and circumstances in which images could and did play a role in ancient religion. They (we) also ought to clarify what they (we) mean by "images" in the first place, a notoriously polysemic term in many languages. Here, for the sake of convenience, let us define "images" as visual but also material, and thus tangible devices produced by humans (generally speaking, craftspeople) with the aim to lend a visually perceptible form to one or several deities intended to be gazed upon and provide a particular sense of their material presence. Such a definition can help us to consider images as performative tools, produced and put to service in the framework of particular visualising and materializing strategies and practices.

Scholarship has long focused on the generally (but not always) three-dimensional bodies we call "cult statues", <sup>2</sup> but this modern category has been questioned3 and the range of images considered in the study of ancient figuration of the divine has widely extended to other media:4 depictions of deities, from major to minor, from large sculp-

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-013

See Barbu 2016, 2022. Forger 2020 makes the interesting argument that the name of their god could be regarded as an "aspect" and considered a substitute to an image by first-century CE Jews, as witnessed by Flavius Josephus.

E.g., Hölscher 2018.

Mylonopoulos 2010.

See for instance Estienne et al. (eds.) 2008; Jaccottet (ed.) 2021.

tures to figurines, painted on walls or vases, carved in ivory or wood, engraved in metalwork or seals made of stone or composite materials, amulets and other object genres are all now considered equally worthy of interest – not only, but not least, because actual "cult images" have rarely survived. Both history of religion(s) and art history have greatly benefited from the "visual (iconic, pictorial) turn" and from the "material turn", which stress that a large part of our knowledge of the world, both past and present, is based on sensory (visual, spatial, haptic) experience.5 Ancient religion was fundamentally rooted in communication with an "other" that was not only imagined but also shaped and attributed reality and presence through visual and material culture, an "infrastructure" of sorts.6 Studying the use of images in ancient religion implies paying particular attention to the material properties of objects and their affordances which impacted their transformation from raw material to finished product. Emphasis has also been placed on the "power" of images (David Freedberg) and even their agency (Alfred Gell), whether marked or simply ascribed,7 in relation to their very materiality: much more than aesthetic achievements (although we should not underestimate this dimension, particularly with a wide notion of aesthetics in mind), images can exert a certain power over the viewer and, when adequately framed, produce a sense of enchantment.8 Such power would certainly be experienced with particular strength in ritual contexts, causing images of the divine to act as focal points for collective attention: in such circumstances, images are neither "inert" (arga), "inactive" (aprakta) nor "dead matter" (hulê nekra), as Christian authors claimed pagan cult statues to be (see, e.g., Clem. Alex., Prot. 4.30).

Manifold visual and material devices and clues were used by ancient craftspeople to encode and distinguish figurations of gods and goddesses, both visually and materially: 'physical' appearance (anthropomorphic, theriomorphic, hybrid, as an intentionally shaped object . . . or amorphous),9 attributes denoting gender, status, role, rank and relational affect (from attractiveness to repulsion, from awe to enchantment), appropriately stereotyped secondary equipment (headdress and/or hairstyle, garments, weapons or signs of authority), gestures and bodily attitudes, accompanying animals or, again, hybrids, etc. Such features alluded to the potential and characteristic force of the particular deity and could be related to and translated into the perceived effectiveness of his or her typical action (e.g., when a god shooting arrows was symbolically related to the

See Bräunlein 2016, among many others; consider Alloa 2016 and Gardner 2021 to complicate matters generally. For a recent application to the study of "ancient Israelite religion", see Mandell/Smoak 2019.

Stressing materiality and its affordances, the concept of infrastructure may draw our attention to the aspect of production, labour and skilled knowledge required in the process of lending deities a visual and material form or body.

A distinction made in Winter 2007.

After Freedberg 1989 and Gell 1998, see Morgan 2018 and many other proponents of a Material Religion approach.

On "aniconism" in Greek religion, see Gaifman 2012.

human experience of illness and pain). They could also unveil the sometimes quasi experimental nature of the challenging exercise of adequately expressing one's notion of the divine other by visual and material means. In a "polytheistic" environment, such attributes offered fundamental clues to identifying and naming the deities portrayed or encountered: a chariot for the storm-god, a mace, shield or perhaps a bow for Reshep, the thunderbolt for Zeus, the cithara or the bow for Apollo, etc. They may also have helped to distinguish one deity from another and find one's way around in religious landscapes inhabited by a large (potentially infinite) number of gods and goddesses. They could even occasionally be useful to ancient scholars, helping them to distinguish a bewildering variety of deities in need of classification (think of the Hittite so-called Göttertypentexte). Be that as it may, they certainly assist us modern scholars in categorising and ordering such types by means of iconographic classification. How can we know, however, whether our classifications match those of the Ancients? How confidently can we attribute names to iconographic types, or be sure to what extent such an attribution might obscure rather than illuminate our historical understanding of how "ancient polytheisms" actually worked?

Given the importance of images in much of ancient religion across the ancient Mediterranean and beyond, their potential to provide insights into "ancient polytheisms" but also the many challenging questions encountered by scholars on a theoretical and methodological level, and in terms of research operationalisation, a special section was conceived by the MAP team within this volume to address possible connections, and potential tensions, between divine names and images. Contributions to this section should highlight both the opportunities and risks surrounding the study of ancient divine onomastics and iconography, but above all explore the potential connections and complementarities, as well as any possible tensions, between the different ways of constructing the divine, that is, creating conditions in which to engage with gods and goddesses, address them and possibly (not least in the case of cult statues) interact with them. In order to get the discussion started, the organisers provided an outline of research questions and hypotheses which reads as a mise en bouche of sorts and deserves to be quoted here (italics are our own):

When the emperor Julian asserts that "the denominations (epônumias) of the gods offer us as many drawn images (hôsper eikonas graptas" (Letters 89b, 291 b), he underlines the intimate link between nomination and representation. Names, in short, constitute micro-portraits; decoding them implies sketching the profile of the divine entities that bear them. By adopting the concept of onomastic attribute, the MAP project intended to disclose a broad and double field of exploration: on the one hand, how are divine names put into images? On the other hand, how are images of the gods, with their attitudes, gestures, attributes or adornments, designated by names? Far from being canonical, but neither arbitrary nor random nonetheless, these processes of constructing the divine through names and images are based on great fluidity and flexibility; they are sensitive to a plurality of factors: space, time, the type of medium, the context and environment of names as well as images, the configurations in which they are inserted, the creativity of the producers of these names and images, the receptivity of those who utter them or look upon them.

(. . .) What, then, is the logic behind one or more onomastic and/or iconographic attributes being associated with a god? In what way are names and images the signs of a complex language capable of both bringing together and differentiating gods or groups of gods? How do names and images draw up networks of related, complementary and analogous gods, especially in an intercultural dimension?

The concept of "onomastic attributes" not only aims to draw attention to the potential resonance that may be observed between divine names and images, the iconographic composition of which can be considered in terms of an assemblage of attributes; it is also intended to leave behind the unsatisfactory distinction between names and epithets/epicleses, to better grasp the construction of the divine through the way denominations are combined in sequences and/or formulae.<sup>10</sup> The notion of "attributes" offers the advantage of drawing a parallel with visual iconography, suggesting that divine names may at times have constituted micro-portraits of the deities; if so, decoding them may come close to sketching the "profile" of the divine entities that bore them. Certainly, the quote by emperor Julian should not be (mis-)taken as a general rule; still, it expresses a particularly explicit way of thinking about the relationship between names and images, demonstrating that this relationship was indeed a matter of concern and reflection for the Ancients themselves.

Indeed, the "systems" and processes of naming on the one hand, and of visual representation on the other, may share a number of common points. Let us suggest, however, taking the MAP team's proposal as a series of suggestions and questions rather than rules or principles to be followed and applied dogmatically. In the first place, let us reflect upon names themselves (divine and otherwise): to always consider them actual "micro-portraits" (an approach that suggests an almost etymological approach to divine names) seems simply exaggerated and hardly appropriate in many instances. However, names may well be capable of evoking a "portrait" or "image" conventionally associated, in a given community of discourse and ritual practice, to a particular deity. It is therefore undoubtable that the many varieties in the relationship between divine names and images deserve to be seriously and systematically studied.11 That being said, we should recognise that while figurations of gods and goddesses do interrogate their beholder and invite them to identify the figures represented by their name, the very act of naming generally serves a pragmatic, context-related purpose. For example, naming the image(s) of a god or goddess in a ritual context allows a communicative connection to be established with the addressee rather than attributing them an identity, since the latter is usually known a priori. We should further acknowledge the huge gap separating ancient practices of correlating names and images from contemporary attempts to decode them: the difficulty of modern scholars in identifying ancient figurations of the divine and their legitimate desire to do so on a methodologically sound basis are ours,

See Bonnet et al. 2018 for further background to this paragraph.

See Oggiano 2021 for a suggestive investigation of Phoenician divine names and images.

after all, not theirs. They remind us (apologies for the truism) that, as historians of religion, we shall never be insiders of the past societies we investigate. Our difficulty in tagging a divine image with a divine name differs fundamentally from what correlating names and images may have meant to the Ancients.12

Those Ancients were often critically aware of (or rather, assumed) the imperfect, unfinished, even aporetic nature of human representation of the gods. The names given are often approximations, as are the figurations: in both cases, they need to be tinkered with in order to get as close as possible to the divine entities' character and role, not to mention their potentially ineffable nature. Naming, like figuring, could thus at times imply arranging elements as if composing an Arcimboldo portrait: the composite nature of the gods' names – particularly when arranged in sequence – echoes that of their images. Admittedly, though, there are far more names than image types, and iconographic compositions are less varied than onomastic combinations. Like epithets, visual attributes are often generic rather than specific to a single deity within a pantheon. Take the case of the Greek phiale, a libation vase frequently used by human worshippers: when a god is shown holding a phiale in his hand, it does not denote a distinctive area of divine influence but is rather meant to enhance the efficiency of a ritual by referring to divine engagement. According to Anne-Françoise Jaccottet (in this section), the phiale visually encodes the concord between gods and worshippers as a necessary basis for the stability of any human community. On the other hand, visual attributes can be exchanged from one deity to another in the same manner as epithets can be transferred: these displacements and borrowings may help to establish connections between deities. For instance, at Delphi, we find a statue of Apollo wearing a fillet around his head. This rather unusual headdress for the kitharaplaying god seems to have been borrowed directly from the iconography of his brother Dionysus, who reigned over the sanctuary during winter.13

Images travel a lot across the Near East and the Mediterranean: a network of iconographic types connects different places and regions in a similar way to cultrelated names. Much scholarly effort has gone into recognising models, copies, replications and adaptations of divine images across time and space. The varieties of data they rely upon constitute an important legacy of iconographic type-series, to which modern scholars have attributed names – often for better and sometimes for worse. For example, Apollo portrayed as a kithara player is commonly referred to by art historians as "Apollo kitharoidos", a label never explicitly used by ancient writers. The same applies for types and postures of Near Eastern deities such as the so-called

Problems increase when putative divine names are reconsidered in terms of title or epithet, such as baʿal: should we translate it as "lord", "master", or "owner"? When searching for figuration, what iconographic type should we look for: an enthroned dignitary, a fighting hero, an armed figure striding with authority, or a master of animals? If the latter, which species or hybrid? See Garbati/Porzia, this volume, 365–390.

See Marcadé 1977, 407–408.

"smiting god" or the "mistress of animals": these are our own classificatory concepts, but we don't know (or do we?) whether the Ancients would have verbally identified and distinguished those generic images as such, nor whether they would even have explicitly distinguished between generic type and specific attribution in the first place.

Just like some onomastic attributes, whose polysemy contributes to building the dunamis of deities, iconographic attributes generate a plurality of interpretations and readings for worshippers and/or viewers alike. A well-established scholarly trope presumes that images are often more difficult to interpret and decipher than texts. It is true that, at times, we struggle to find any clues and are uncertain as to the identity of a given deity depicted. There are few cases where a name accompanies the image, and even when this is the case, the correspondence does not always seem perfect – although in such instances, too, the juxtaposition obviously serves a purpose, albeit none other than simply to identify. However, first and foremost, images may seem to be more difficult to interpret, or more polysemic given that we probably don't always ask the right questions or approach them with the most adequate methodology. A basic principle should be not to study divine figurations in isolation, but rather to consider groups, assemblages,<sup>14</sup> configurations, or "divine societies" <sup>15</sup> (not to mention pantheons) whenever possible, since these allow us to observe visual distinctions that individual figurations may, at best, only presume implicitly.<sup>16</sup> Iconographic analyses must be based on series and comparisons.17 Finally, when studying certain images of gods and goddesses we should, as a rule, take into account a twofold horizon: on the one hand, the broader visual culture shared by craftspeople and worshippers across time (diachronically, in terms of figurative tradition), space (in terms of movement and exchange of models and types), and craft skills and affordances (in terms of material, technique, style, etc.); on the other hand, the images' particular setting, display, and use in their local environment, ritual dynamics and meaning-making practices.

Many of the questions raised above could merely be hinted at during the MAP preliminary workshop. Our section entitled "Names and Images" included three of the four contributions that follow (Milette Gaifman, Anne-Françoise Jaccottet, Claudia Posani), plus a lengthy contribution by Angelika Berlejung on "YHWH: A Lot of Names and No Iconography?" which could not be included in the present proceedings.<sup>18</sup>

See Quantin, this volume, 413–433.

See Pironti 2017, 2023.

See Quantin, this volume ("assemblages of gods": 413–433); and Uehlinger 2022 for an exercise of group analysis on a rather spectacular Old Syrian cylinder seal.

In a very recently published article, Pironti/Bonnet/Loriol 2023 suggest that the study of divine onomastics should privilege series and sequences, which signal an important point of convergence and a promising perspective for the comparative historical study of "ancient polytheisms".

Berlejung's extensive study will be published in due course as a separate monograph. It partly resonated with Martin Leuenberger's chapter in Part 6 (667–688), while addressing a much wider set of issues than those outlined above in this "names and images" section. It also led conference participants to raise important methodological questions and challenges, not least regarding the documen-

Another study (Gaëlle Tallet) was appropriately moved from section 2 on "Onomastic Bricolage" to "Names and Images". The chapters collected in this section confirm the benefits to be gained from investigating divine names and images, which both participate in expressing and constructing the power of divine entities, in parallel, so to speak. They explore various types of correlation, articulation and interaction between the onomastic and visual codes. Names used orally or in texts may have guided and inspired the craftspeople who portrayed the gods; in return, some onomastic attributes may reflect and possibly refer to iconographic conventions, series of artefacts, or even a visual-type model, for example, a cult statue from a well-known and crowded sanctuary.<sup>19</sup> Such interactions testify to the vitality of ancient religion, or "religious systems" as it were, capable of structuring and renewing both the stock of divine epithets and iconographic types.

Sometimes, such interactions are subtler than we might have expected, especially when there seems to be no correspondence but rather inconsistencies between names and images at first glance. For instance, while Zeus is called "the one who bears the aegis", aigiochos, by the poets, he is never pictured with this attribute by craftspeople, be it on statues or in vase-paintings; only his daughter has the privilege of being figured wearing the aegis as a breastplate. The apparent contradiction is resolved once we consider that the aegis should be seen as a transitional divine attribute, its function being to establish a strong relationship between father and daughter. Painters and sculptors portraying Athena with the aegis thus designate her as "the very daughter of Zeus aigiochos" – a common way of naming the goddess in Homeric poetry.20

Milette Gaifman provides us with another example of an image which does not match our scholarly expectations, but the significance of which becomes clear when we look closely at the specific context and meaning of the cult in the cityscape. The colossal cult statue of Apollo patroos made by Euphranor during the 4th century BCE that stood in the Athenian Agora portrayed the god wearing a chiton, peplos and himation and holding a kithara. According to Gaifman, this iconographic standard matched the function of the Athenian "ancestor" god who protected public officials and was in charge of their education: musical contests were fundamental when it came to raising young citizens. One can recognise therefore that "image and epithet of the Athenian Apollo Patroos were co-constitutive." Moreover, the particular iconographic standard connected Athens with Delphi, encoding the statue with additional and meaningful resonance.

Another kind of interaction is examined by Anne-Françoise Jaccottet, who analyses a series of dedication steles to Apollo, erected in the village sanctuaries of the Propontis,

tary status of biblical texts vs epigraphical and archaeological data in a specifically (religion-)historical inquiry. Further discussion is needed to critically reflect and deconstruct disciplinary idiosyncrasies, and to overcome cross-disciplinary boundaries and misunderstandings.

See, e.g., Grand-Clément 2021.

See Bonnet/Grand-Clément (forthcoming).

between the 2nd century BCE and the 1st century CE. These "bilingual" documents, as she calls them, bear both a textual and a visual message: the carved depiction of the god worshipped is associated with an inscription containing the divine name. One would expect to find some equivalence between the two pieces of information, but this is not the case. Jaccottet demonstrates that the two encodings operate with distinct strategies: In the inscriptions, Apollo is attributed different local epicleses, while visually he is consistently figured in exactly the same way: holding a kithara, wearing a long garment and pouring a libation on an altar. Quite reminiscent of the statue of the Athenian patroos, the image apparently operated at a panhellenic level: It would have been familiar to any Greek person travelling in the Propontis; whereas the verbal dedication, in contrast, defined the god as uniquely local. Jaccottet's analysis wonderfully illustrates a tension between the very specific and the generic which might well be at the heart of much ancient religion: with their peculiar combination of names and images, the Propontis dedicatory reliefs managed to articulate both scales and thus guaranteed ritual efficacy.

Claudia Posani's study of Kubaba first offers an inventory of onomastic sequences, then of iconographic types, in order to analyse possible interactions and intersections between the two modes of encoding. She reminds us of some of the difficulties we may encounter when trying to make visual attributes "speak". In the case of the mirror, she suggests a function somewhat analogous to the one, mentioned above, of the Greek phiale: the object held by the goddess is a means to suggest mediation between the human world and that of the dead and the gods. Her study also shows that images can, at times, help to guide the reading of a divine name and character, suggesting that the sign AVIS echoes the animal (bird) representation of the goddess.

With Gaëlle Tallet, we unravel a case of "religious bricolage" carried out in the context of deifying the deceased in Egypt. The creation or adaptation of a new iconographic type had to obey certain constraints: it had to be an evocative image, easily identifiable, but also one that manifested and conveyed all the power and qualities of the god. It was also linked to a name, which is particularly meaningful in a context such as ancient Egyptian religion, in which the name was apparently presumed to express the essence of a divinity. Tallet shows that, in the particular case she discusses, "the choice of the falcon may have been inspired by the very name of the glorified dead, Piyris being the Greek transcription of the Egyptian pȝy Ḥr, Pihor, literally 'that of Horus'".

# Bibliography


Barbu, Daniel (2022), "The Invention of Idolatry", in: History of Religions 61, 4, 389–418.


Freedberg, David (1989), The Power of Images. Studies in the History and Theory of Response, Chicago. Gaifman, Milette (2012), Aniconism in Greek Antiquity, Oxford.

Gardner, Andrew (2021), "Taking the Wrong Turn? Re-examining the Potential for Practice Approaches in Archaeology", in: Cambridge Archaeological Journal 31, 3, 503–508.

Gell, Alfred (1998), Art and Agency: an Anthropological Theory, Oxford.

Grand-Clément, Adeline (2021), "Cheveux lapis-lazuli, pieds d'argent, chevelure bien ordonnée et yeux pers : épithètes homériques et effigies cultuelles", in: Corinne Bonnet / Gabriella Pironti (eds.), Les dieux d'Homère 3. Attributs onomastiques (Kernos Suppl., 38), Liège, 209–228.

Hölscher, Fernande (2018), Die Macht der Gottheit im Bild. Archäologische Studien zur griechischen Götterstatue, Göttingen.


# Milette Gaifman What Do Attributes Say About Apollo?

Abstract: Visual attributes are fundamental to Greco-Roman religious art. Accompanying objects, bodily features, modes of dress, or adjacent plants and animals are indispensable for identifying gods in images. Visual attributes allow us to name the gods. Focusing on the 4th-century BCE cult statue of Apollo Patroos that stood in the Athenian Agora, the paper explores the workings of these elements. Generally, Apollo is easily recognizable as the youthful cleanshaven male deity typically portrayed with his bow and arrow and/or string instrument. In the Athenian Agora, he was shown wearing a chiton, peplos and himation and holding a kithara by his left. This was a first time Apollo Patroos was seen with these traits. What was the role of these specific attributes? What did they articulate about the god in the context of the cult? Close analysis of this example shows how visual representations of gods operated in tandem with and in equally sophisticated ways as the complex modes of naming the divine.

Attributes, the distinctive features that allow us to identify a certain figure, constitute a primary element of the visual world of antiquity.1 Even if they are not always straightforward, and often emerge as far more complex than one may assume, they are essential to our understanding of Greek art and religion. We can tell Athena by her shield, helmet, and spear, and we can distinguish Herakles by his lionskin and club. Attributes are fundamental for our understanding of an image. A memorable scene in Euripides' Ion highlights the power of clues in visual representation; when the chorus describes the portrayal of the Gigantomachy on the temple of Apollo at Delphi, every figure holds a distinctive object; Athena is notable for her gorgon-faced shield, Zeus for his thunderbolt, and Dionysos for his ivy staff.2 The gods' weapons in this mythological battle are not incidental. They are integral to the deities' identities, evoking the particularities of their divine personalities, powers, and mythologies. As the play's chorus notes, an ivy staff is unfit for battle, yet in the depicted scene it is held by Dionysos. The staff is a trait of the god, who can use it as his distinctive weapon.

Most recently on attributes with further bibliography see Dietrich 2018. See also Squire 2019, and my brief discussion of the complexities of attributes, in Gaifman 2018a, 9–10.

E., Ion 205–217. See further on iconography in the play, Mastronarde 1975 and on themes of recognition, Zeitlin 1989.

Note: I am grateful to Corinne Bonnet and the entire MAP team for the invitation to participate in the MAP workshop in October 2022 and contribute to the project. Special thanks to Sylvain Lebreton for the helpful suggestions and especially to Alaya Palamidis for her comments on earlier draft.

Attributes are more than telltale signs for distinguishing figures; they characterize their subjects. As such, they call to mind cultic epithets in defining specific traits of a cult.<sup>3</sup> Like epithets, attributes highlight certain roles a deity may assume within a particular context. Any attempt however to identify direct correlations between attributes and epithets emerges as highly problematic. The quest for a coherent system of parallels between visual markers and iconographic types on the one hand, and divine nomenclature and epithets on the other, is futile. For while visual representations of gods are coexistent with modes of naming of deities, words and images do not function as equivalents or parallels of each other. Rather than try to identify a system of corollaries, this paper adopts the position offered by the MAP project. It focuses on the ways by which visual attributes articulate the nature of a particular deity within a given cultic context, taking the primary statue of the cult of Apollo Patroos from the 4th century BCE as a case in point.

Like spoken languages, the realm of images has its own dynamics. The analysis of visual attributes in religious contexts must take into consideration the unique traits and nuances of the visual culture in which they operated. One of the features of Greek religious art of the 4th century BCE is the range of visual clues that we may find. Some are unique to a particular figure (e.g., the thunderbolt of Zeus, the ivy-staff of Dionysos) and others may denote a particular characteristic of a figure (e.g., beardlessness to suggest youth, jewelry to suggest high social standing). We may see all of these visual indicators as types of attributes that operate in various ways. Additionally, Greek religious art of the 4th century BCE had an array of what scholars today identify as iconographic types, namely a certain combination of elements such as, body-type, pose, or objects handled that is replicated across various media and contexts. Thanks to the long ancient tradition of visual replications and borrowings we can recognize a certain image-type across wide swaths of media, geographies and chronological spans. This visual phenomenon lies at the foundation of Kopienkritik, the long and distinguished art historical methodology, which seeks to reconstructs lost ancient originals on the basis of later copies and variants.<sup>4</sup> Iconographic types that we identify in Greek religious art developed overtime; they looked back to earlier periods and developed into later periods. We can therefore consider iconographic typologies to gain a better understanding of the resonances of a certain set of attributes and a particular visual configuration. Building upon the erudite scholarship that has charted out typologies of figures, we may examine earlier precedents and later replications and variants of a figure to consider how a certain set of attributes was adopted and what a certain image-type proclaimed about a represented deity and its cult.

On issues of naming, see Parker 2017, particularly 9–12; along with Parker 2003.

Furtwängler 1893; and see modification in Lippold 1923. For discussions of the implications of Kopienkritik on scholarship see e.g. Hallett 1995; Gazda 2002; Marvin 2008; and most recently Elsner 2020, with further bibliography.

In what follows, I begin with a general discussion of the nature of attributes in Greek religious art by looking at the fragments of the South Italian calyx-krater dated to ca. 380 BCE, today at the Allard Pierson Museum in Amsterdam (Fig. 1). I then turn to the evidentiary material for the statue of Apollo Patroos of the 4th century BCE, before considering the statue in relation to near visual precedents and close replications and variants. The close contextual visual analysis of the statue reveals that while superficially it may not fit certain scholarly expectations as an image for the cult of Apollo Patroos in Athens, when considered within its own visual tradition, its attributes and iconographic configuration speak to the statue's force as drawing attention to particular features of the cult in which it operated. Image and epithet of the Athenian Apollo Patroos were co-constitutive.

Fig. 1: Fragment of a South-Italian calyx-krater, attributed to the Painter of the Birth of Dionsysos, ca. 380 BCE, Amsterdam, Allard Pierson Museum no. 2579.

# 1 Apollo's Attributes

The Homeric Hymn to Apollo is the locus classicus for any discussion of Apollo's attributes. Immediately following his mythical birth Apollo proclaims: "The lyre and the curved bow shall ever be dear to me, and I will declare to men the unfailing will of Zeus." <sup>5</sup> This assertion identifies the god's favorite objects and simultaneously encapsu-

h.Ap. 131–132: Εἴη μοι κίθαρίς τε φίλη καὶ καμπύλα τόψξα, χρήσω τ᾽ἀνθρώποισι Διὸς νημερτέα βουλήν (trans. by Hugh G. Evelyn-White. Homeric Hymns. Cambridge, MA., Harvard University Press; London, William Heinemann Ltd. 1914).

lates his main traits. His two quintessential attributes, the bow and the lyre, bring to mind the first book of the Iliad in which Apollo's arrows brought the plague upon the Achaeans and his music delighted the gods.<sup>6</sup> These lines also allude to his connection to Delphi, the holy site of his oracle, whose foundation is described in the second part of the Homeric Hymn. <sup>7</sup> As summarized in the helpful entry of the Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae for Apollo, other ancient literary sources provide further descriptions of the god. He is most often said to be the one with a bow but at times also armed with a sword. He is the deity who holds the lyre, and he is the one with unshorn golden locks.8

Alongside the texts that name the god's implements and their powers, we may gain further understanding of his visual attributes from a 4th-century BCE fragmented South Italian vase (Fig. 1).<sup>9</sup> The painted vase offers a visual meditation on the god's image and its attributes by juxtaposing a statue of Apollo holding a bow and extending a phiale within the temple with the image of the animated deity sitting playing the lyre outside.<sup>10</sup> The vase elicits the comparison between the two renditions of Apollo: one that is standing, the other that it seated; one that is a metal artifice and the other a figure with living skin; one that directs its gaze to the viewer and the other that is fully consumed in itself and does not allow for eye contact; one that is bound by the architectural structure, and the other that is unconstrained.

The vase's two figures of Apollo are also distinct in the objects they hold. We may recognize that each representation has one of the deity's quintessential attributes named in the Homeric Hymn, the bow and the lyre, but not the same one. As Verity Platt described it: "Apollo Kitharoidos outside the temple is juxtaposed with the Lord of the Bow within." <sup>11</sup> The two portrayals evoke different dimensions of the god. The statue's bow connotes his deadly force, as the god who shoots from afar, whereas Apollo's lyre outside the temple brings to mind his captivating music, whose enchanting powers were also described in the Homeric Hymn. <sup>12</sup> There is a third object carried by the deity. The statue holds the phiale, the distinctive instrument for the performance of libations.<sup>13</sup> The bowl in the hand of the god's image differs from the bow

Hom., Il. 1.144–52; 603–605; h.Ap. 182–206.

For general summary of Apollo's traits, Graf 2009. On the relationship between bow, lyre and oracles, see also Monbrun 2007.

Lambrinoudakis 1984 at 183–85. On Apollo's golden hair, see Grand-Clément 2021.

Amsterdam, Allard Pierson Museum no. 2579, attributed to the Painter of the Birth of Dionsysos, ca. 380 BCE. RVAp I, 36 no. 10; LIMC Apollon, 236 no. 428. See further e.g., Furtwängler et al. 1932, 340–42; de Cesare 1997, 94–97; Oenbrink 1997, 126–127; Schneider-Hermann 1972, 31–34; Spivey 1996, 47; Alroth 1992, 39; Osborne 2011, 213–214.

See my discussion in Gaifman 2016 at 263–69, with further earlier bibliography.

Platt 2011, 121.

h.Ap. 179–206. On the two facets that are consistent in the god's representation see Monbrun 2007.

On the phiale, see Gaifman 2018b, with further bibliography.

and the lyre. For although it is frequent in depictions of Apollo in this period, it is not unique to him, and is portrayed in the hands of numerous other deities.14 The phiale does not denote a distinctive area of divine influence in the same way as the statue's bow and the god's lyre. The bowl layers the figure with another set of connotations. As the quintessential vessel for libations, it implies possible divine engagement in ritual. The way it is held out by the statue shown on the fragmented vase suggests that one may worship the deity in ritual by offering liquid into the extended dish. Taken together, bow, lyre, and bowl evoke various ways in which mortals may experience the presence of Apollo. Human beings may be afflicted by his arrows, they may be transformed by his music, and they may seek to engage with him through the pouring of libations. The Amsterdam fragment reminds us of the range of roles and connotations that objects held by gods in ancient imagery may take. They may all characterize the figure that they accompany but they can connote entirely different areas of human experience of the divine.

The Amsterdam fragment invites us also to consider what a figure does with the objects that it carries; the statue within the temple merely holds its implements, while the deity outside is active; we see his bent fingers touching the strings, suggesting music-making.15 We are reminded of the profound difference between ongoing action, and the mere possibility of an act. Consider the renowned calyx-krater attributed to the so-called Niobid Painter, today in the Louvre (Fig. 2).<sup>16</sup> The vase displays the deadly impact of the divine siblings' arrows. Bodies of Niobe's children lie on the ground, as Apollo points his arrow and Artemis pulls hers from her quiver. We witness the gods' exploits unfolding in front of our eyes. By contrast, the statue inside the temple on the Amsterdam krater only alludes to the potential force of the god's weapon. And yet, outside the same temple, action takes place. Apollo touches the strings of his instrument. We cannot see the sounds he produces, although we may note that he is accompanied by a seated female figure who turns to him. We are invited to imagine the god's transformative music. The vase reminds us of the different ways in which instruments may or may not be used by a deity. The portrayed deity may only carry them and thereby only allude to their potential force, or activate them, and thereby simulate a manifestation of the deity's powers.

The Amsterdam fragment shows the extent to which the characterization of figures is not limited to the objects they hold. Physical appearance, mode of dress, and hairdo may be attributive, namely connoting an element of the figure's divine personality. In Greek art of the 4th century BCE, the body of a deity emerges as an essential

The literature on gods' engagement in libations is vast. See e.g., Simon 1953; Himmelmann-Wildschütz 1959; Laurens 1985; Veyne 1990; Patton 2009; Collard 2016, 78–85; and Gaifman 2018a, 117–149, with further bibliography.

For a detailed discussion of the significance of Apollo's strumming his string instrument in this way, see Laferrière forthcoming.

Beazley Archive Vase Number: 206954; Beazley 1963, 601.22, 1661.

Fig. 2: Attic red-figure calyx-krater attributed to the Niobid Painter, ca. 460-50 BCE, Louvre, G341.

element of its characterization.17 In our example, we may identify physical traits that typify the deity. Both portrayals of the god render him youthful, his body fully exposed, and his beardless face framed by long locks of hair. They both accord with the descriptions in literary sources of the Son of Zeus. Additionally, the animated Apollo wears a laurel wreath. The plant is most often associated with the god, yet in Greek art, laurel wreaths are shown on the heads of other figures and serve as general markers of ritual and victory. While commonly associated with Apollo, the laurel is not exclusive to him. It serves here as an important reminder of the fluid nature of the language of visual attributes. A particular visual element may be strongly associated with a certain figure but may not necessarily be exclusive to it.

The vase makes an additional comment. A certain deity may take on different guises, yet these remain facets of the same entity. On the vase, the two represented facets are not in contention. The seated animated god touches the temple in his right hand, a small detail one may easily miss. The deity asserts his physical connection with his

On this issue in classical art, see Himmelmann 1998.

shrine and the armed statue within. As mortals approach the temple, they may see only the statue of Apollo inside the temple, but the armed god is only one guise the god may take, one among other options. Beyond the built shrine, the god may assume a different role and appearance. Human experience of the gods' outward form is not necessarily complete; deities may assume different capacities and have various aspects and attributes.

# 2 The Statue at the 4th Century BCE Athenian Sanctuary of Apollo Patroos

Generally, the epithet Patroos would connote the ancestral aspect of the deity.<sup>18</sup> In Athens of the 4th century BCE, the cult of Apollo Patroos was central to the fabric of Athenian citizenry and the workings of Athenian democracy, particularly the subunits of the population, notably the ten tribes, or the phylai. <sup>19</sup> Witness, for instance, the 4th century BCE text, the Athenian Constitution, in which we learn that the examination of Athenian citizens seeking official office, or the anakrisis, included a question about the location of one's shrine of Apollo Patroos.20 In the course of the 4th century BCE, the cult of Apollo Patroos received a new home in the Athenian Agora.<sup>21</sup> The larger-than-life marble statue of the 4th century BCE that was discovered in 1907 in the Athenian Agora, has been identified as the cult statue of Apollo Patroos of the Agora (Fig. 3).22

The colossus made of Pentelic marble is missing its head, neck, shoulders, arms, hands, and most of the himation around the figure in front. Still, if only for the sheer size, style, and exquisite workmanship it has been identified as the statue of a male divinity. The surviving marble's features include a high-girdled heavy peplos and a himation, and open footwear. Traces of the figure's long locks of hair and kithara in-

On ancestral gods, see Parker 2017, 113–131. For the adjective, see Chantraine 1968, vol. II, 864 s.v. πατήρ. For contrast between patroos, which pertains to material things and patrios, which describes practices, beliefs and customs, see Cromey 2006 at 43.

For detailed discussion of the cult see De Schutter 1987; Hedrick 1988; Cromey 2006. For the significance of kinship in Athenian democracy see Stewart 2017; Dubbini 2014; Humphreys 2018. For a hypothetical reconstruction of the statue's base see, Vlachogianni 2018.

(Ps.)-Arist., Ath. 55.3. Similarly, Demosthenes 57.67.

For the most recent discussion of the date of the temple in the very end of the 4th century BCE, see Lawall 2009; See also Stewart 2017, who provides further bibliography and follows Lawall's finding proposing the sequence of the development of the cult, in which a statue preceded the construction of the temple, on p. 281.

Measurements: Height (without plinth): 2.54 m; Maximum width of statue 0.98 m; maximum depth of statue: 0.55 m. See the first comprehensive publication, Thompson 1961. See Palagia 1980, 8–9, with further bibliography and Palagia 2017; Stewart 2017, at 308–312.

Fig. 3: Monumental statue of Apollo Patroos from the Athenian Agora attributed to Euphranor, ca. 350-325 BCE, Athenian Agora.

dicate that it was Apollo, while the findspot about twenty meters to the south of what was later on identified as the Temple of Apollo Patroos, which was built in the 4th century BCE, suggested already from its discovery a date in the 4th century BCE.<sup>23</sup> Its sheer quality of execution and stylistic features certainly confirm this assessment and preclude any hypothesis for a later dating.24 Today, the statue is generally known as

Earlier assessments placed the construction of the temple in the second half of the century, likely under Lycurgus in ca. 330 BCE. See first excavation report of the temple, Thompson 1937 at 77–115 with 107 on the discovery of the statue; for briefer discussion for the shrine in Thompson/Wycherley 1972, 136–39. For the most recent discussion of the date of the temple in the very end of the 4th century BCE, see Lawall 2009, with further bibliography.

Adam 1966, 94–97.

the central marble image of the cult of Apollo Patroos, most likely the masterpiece by the grand master Euphranor mentioned in the account of the 2nd-century-CE travel writer, Pausanias (1.3.4).<sup>25</sup> Its style and artistic attribution lead also to the general agreement that it was made in the third quarter of the 4th century BCE.26

As we have it, based solely on the remaining marble, we may recognize that the grand statue presented Apollo as the kithara player, or as scholars refer to this common image, Apollo Kitharoidos,27 a label often used in modern scholarship even though it was not used by ancient writers.28 At a basic level, one may conclude that the original image did not proclaim itself to be a depiction of an ancestral deity, or a patroos specifically, for as far as we know there is nothing about it that is specific to the cult, to a patroos, Athenian tribes, clans, or family unions.29 We cannot take the manner of presenting the god, specifically of Apollo with the kithara, as the equivalent of the epithet patroos. In fact, for some scholars, the idea that Apollo in the guise of a musician served as the focus of the Athenian ancestral cult appears an oddity.30 Rather than dismiss the portrayal of the god as a generic depiction that has little to do with Apollo's specific role in the Athenian cult of the 4th century BCE,31 we may reframe our inquiry. We may pose a different question: What was the force of a grand statue of Apollo holding his distinctive instrument and clad in elaborate drapery at the heart of the Athenian Agora, where he was worshipped in his capacity as the ancestral god in the 4th century BCE?

We may gain a fuller understanding of the statue thanks to a group of other statues and reliefs that share notable elements with the fourth-century statue, such as overfolds falling over the high girdle, the positioning of the bent leg, and placement of himation. These resemblances led to the scholarly consensus that these are derivatives and variants of our statue. This group is helpful at two levels. First, as has been commonly noted, the series of variants whose dates range from the 4th century BCE to the 2nd century CE may allow us to attempt a reconstruction of the original's missing elements, or at the very least establish a legitimate hypothesis about the original's appearance, although we must proceed with caution with this methodology.32 Second, from a point of view of the historian of Greek religion and Greek religious art, this group helps us think through the power of the original image, and the significance of its unique features. Copies and variants are not always the most reliable resources for


This is the general agreement, although see questions raised in Hedrick 1988.

Stewart 2017 at 281 proposes the specific date range of 355–338 BCE.

On this type, see Flashar 1992.

Rutherford 2020, particularly 27–28.

See similarly Hedrick 1988, 200.

Wycherley 1978, 67. Thompson/Wycherley 1972, 139. I follow here Martin Flashar's very helpful discussion in Flashar 1992, 59.

full reconstructions, but observable visual commonalities indicate some ties between original and its replications and variations. They may tell us about how the statue was received in certain contexts.<sup>33</sup>

First, let us turn to what may be reconstructed of the original on the basis of its various replications. Some parts of the statue present a challenge. In particular, the tilt of the original head, as it is hard to tell whether the 2nd-century-CE copy is reflective of its position. Similarly, the object in the right hand remains unknown. It has been suggested that he may have held a libation bowl, as seen in other depictions of Apollo with his instrument, or a plectrum.<sup>34</sup> In contrast, the replications help reconstruct the god's hair as parted in the middle and pulled over the ears, with long tresses falling on the back and shoulders. Additionally, one feature that recurs among the variants is a right sleeve seen in all the variants, which would have been the sleeve of a chiton, worn beneath a peplos. The original statue likely presented Apollo clad in three different garments – a heavy peplos, a himation, and a chiton.35 While the long hair accords with the traditional vision of the god with unshorn locks, the garments contrast with the common presentation of the deity as a nude youth. The rich drapery which may appear excessive recalls female statuary. One may identify a certain androgyny in the figure, reminiscent of the figure of the Athena Parthenos, whose body was also mostly covered. At a more basic level, from the viewer's perspective the rich drapery hides the god's body. One cannot see his powerful physique.

The variants also help reconstruct the position of the kithara, which rested under Apollo's left arm and was supported by his hip. Unfortunately, we cannot be certain about the precise position of his left hand. Two of the earliest variants portray his fingers touching the strings, suggestive of the possibility that originally Apollo Patroos was playing his instrument in front of his worshippers' eyes.<sup>36</sup> The variants highlight a fundamental aspect about attributes we have seen above; attributes may also be put into use. The surviving statue's right side, which extends away from his left, further informs us that if the god was shown playing, he was performing in his own distinctive way. Apollo could not have used his right hand to play, as mortals do. As Carolyn Laferrière noted, a human musician would use the right hand to play the kithara, whereas in the 5th and 4th centuries BCE, Apollo is shown time and time again making music with the stroke of his left hand alone.<sup>37</sup> If indeed Apollo Patroos was shown

On this, see Gaifman 2006.

Originally, Homer Thompson suggested a phiale whereas Olga Palagia reconstructs a plectrum. See Palagia 1980, 16; Thompson 1961, 33.

See Thompson 1961, 40; Palagia 1980, 15; Ridgway 1984; for discussion and refutation of the possible identification of the peplos as a chiton, see Ridgway 1984, 52–53, with further references. For further ideas on the possible meaning of Apollo's cloak, see Harrison 1979.

I follow here Olga Palagia's suggestion: Palagia 1980, 16. On the significance of the portrayals of Apollo performing his music, see Laferrière forthcoming, chapter 3.

Further on this distinction, see Laferrière forthcoming.

playing, he was using only one hand, his left hand. In that case, the statue embodied the god's enchanting forces.

We cannot be sure whether we should imagine the god playing. This possibility, however, invites us to return to the statue's drapery. The mesmerizing folds are noteworthy for their artistic qualities, and what scholars have referred to as a "chiaro scuro effect". The recurring accounts of anyone who has examined the statue reveal the force of the art. The undulating ridges and folds, the V-shapes and pyramidal structure lead the eye, and draw the viewer's attention. Eye-catching as they are, they stop us in our tracks, and draw our attention. Artistic ingenuity transforms viewers' experience. We tend to admire the work of the artist, presumably one of the great masters of the 4th century BCE, Euphranor, and consider the statue's artistic style. The figure's drapery is more than a work of virtuosity, it has immediate significance within the statue's original religious context. Inside the temple, folds were easily visible from the outside, seen roughly at the height of the worshippers' eye-level, and leading the gaze toward the upper regions of the colossus. The rich drapery would generate a kind of enchantment. Its visual impact may be compared to divine music, recalling the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Taken together, the attributes we have seen situate the 4th-century-BCE presentation of Apollo Patroos as a powerful musician in a specific context, namely that of the culture of mousike. As music and musical contests were fundamental to the education of the citizenry, the presentation of Apollo Patroos evoked the role of the deity as an inspiring deity for future public officials of the polis. 38

### 3 Visual Precedents and Successors

The Athenian Apollo Patroos belongs to a broader tradition, which precedes and succeeds it, and in which the god was shown with the kithara, often playing his instrument. Generally, as Martin Flashar has noted, in the 4th century BCE, Apollo fully dressed, with long hair falling over his shoulders and a kithara in his left appears to have had a unique affinity with Delphi.39 Such connection to the site of the oracle is articulated in various visual representations. For instance, on a relief dated to the second quarter of the 4th century BCE from the island of Aegina, the god is fully dressed in chiton, peplos, and a mantle, his left hand holds the kithara, and we may see that his fingers touch the strings, an indication that he produces sounds (Fig. 4).40 The god is performing another action.

See papers collected in Murray/Wilson 2004; Power 2010; Rutherford 2020, 30–32.

Flashar 1992, 17–32.

Aegina, Archaeological Museum. Height: 50 cm, Width: 45 cm. See first publication in Svoronos 1912, pl. 22; see also Zagdoun 1977, 55 n. 8, fig. 38; Lambrinoudakis 1984, 238 no. 413; Flashar 1992, 17–19, who following Svoronos examines the relief in relation to a lost statue from Megara.

Fig. 4: Votive Relief from the Island of Aegina, ca. 375-350 BCE, Height: 50 cm, Width: 45 cm. Archaeological Museum of Aegina.

In his right palm, he holds a libation bowl whose direction indicates that he pours a libation over an omphalos on which two eagles stand. On the left side, we may recognize a worshipper approaching Apollo. Although weathered, the depicted scene envisions the deity's veneration at his omphalos in Delphi, appearing in action before his worshipper. A similar scene of Apollo playing the kithara at an omphalos with two eagles on its sides is shown on a Spartan relief, presumably from the turn of the 5th to the 4th century BCE.<sup>41</sup> Here the god extends a phiale while a female figure, presumably Artemis, pours liquid into his extended bowl. In these examples, the presence of the omphalos along with the eagles, evoking the myth of the birds that met at the navel of the world, makes the allusion to Delphi unquestionable.<sup>42</sup> In Thessalian fourth century reliefs (see e.g., Fig. 5) we may also see the god covered in rich drapery

See Tod/Wace 1906, 181 no. 468; and detailed discussion in Flashar 1992, 25–26, with indication of a date ca. 400 BCE.

Pindar e.g., P. 4.4. See further discussion of the Sparta relief in relation to Delphi in Herrmann 1959, 16; Amandry 1950, 68 no. 5.

with his kithara in his left standing frontal together with his mother, Leto, and sister Artemis.43 Here, the Delian Triad may carry Delphic connotations as well.<sup>44</sup>

Fig. 5: Thessalian Relief with Apollo, Artemis and Leto; 375-350 BCE, Height: 81 cm Width: 85 cm; Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1380.

These close precedents to the Athenian version of a fully dressed Apollo, which speak to the Delphic association of this mode of portraying the god, fit with the history of Apollo Patroos in Athens, at least from the last decades of the 5th century BCE. In Euripides' Ion (written ca. 418 BCE) the primary protagonist, the figure Ion, son of Creusa the daughter of the Athenian ancestral figure of Erechtheus, is also the son of Apollo, and in Plato's Euthydemus, Socrates explains that the Athenians worship Apollo Patroos because of Ion's parentage.45 A perception that the Athenian ancestral god is the god of Delphi is also witnessed in On the Crown, where Demosthenes invokes all the gods of the land of Attica, with Pythian Apollo specifically as the ancestral god of the city, a formulation attested elsewhere.46 As others have noted, given these perceptions of the ancestral Apollo in Athens of the 4th century BCE, the choice of a specific iconography and attributes for

Athens, National Archaeological Museum, no. 1380; Height: 81 cm, Width: 85 cm. Kaltsas 2002, 211 who indicates a plectrum, although other accounts differ on this point. See Flashar 1992, 30–32, with further bibliography, and Graeve 1979.

On this issue see Flashar 1992, 32. For general discussion of Apollo Pythios in Thessaly, see Mili 2015.

See E., Ion 64–75 and Pl., Euthd. 302c-d.

D., On the Crown, 18 with further discussion in De Schutter 1987, 125–26.

Apollo in the Agora is fitting.47 The Agora statue highlighted the deity's Delphic affinities witnessed in earlier 4th-century-BCE depictions of the deity with similar configurations. At the same time, the nuanced difference between the colossus and its near precedents creates distinctions. While following an existing tradition, slight divergences rendered the colossal version by the great master as specifically Athenian.

Replications and variants produced in the 4th century BCE reveal that the image of Apollo Patroos was echoed in visual form shortly after its completion. The case of the Athenian Apollo is not unique. Other statues at a focus of a cult, such as the masterpiece by Pheidias known as the Athena Parthenos, were replicated in numerous media for centuries.48 A visual quotation of the Apollo Patroos is seen for instance in a fragmentary relief dated to the third quarter of the 4th century BCE that is today in the collection of the Acropolis Museum (Fig. 6).<sup>49</sup> The larger figure on the left recalls earlier reliefs with a fully dressed Apollo holding a kithara. Yet here, the high-girdled peplos distinguishes the god's image from other images of Apollo to suggests a direct reference to the Athenian Agora's version of the god with the kithara.<sup>50</sup> The small relief of 22 centimeters in height envisions a male worshipper approaching Apollo in

Fig. 6: Votive Relief of Apollo, Athens, ca. 350-325 BCE; Height: 22 cm, Width 26 cm; Acropolis Museum 2970.

Hedrick 1988, 200; Flashar 1992, 58; Stewart 2017, 281.

Gaifman 2006. Similarly, a less renowned Apollo of Megara of the 4th century BCE, appears to have been replicated on the relief from Aegina. See discussion in Flashar 1992, 17–24.

Acropolis Museum 2970. Height: 22 cm, Width 26 cm. See Neumann 1979, Taf. 40a; Palagia 1984 at 204 no. 145c; Walter 1923, 36 no. 50; Lawton 2017, 30.

Neumann 1979, 63–64, with discussion of early misidentification of the figure of Apollo as Athena in Walter 1923, 36 no. 50; see also Palagia 2017 at 130.

awe. It imagines an interaction with the god in his unique Athenian guise. Whereas Athenian citizens of the 4th century BCE may not have had an easy access to the temple and the statue within, as inner shrines were not always freely available to the general public,51 in this relief Ancestral Apollo was seen by his worshipper.

The Acropolis Museum's relief is of unknown findspot, and its condition disappointing. It is therefore all the more noteworthy that we can even recognize the specific reference to Apollo Patroos with only minimal clues of high girdle, folds, and kithara. The small relief speaks to what we may recognize as the iconization of the Apollo of the Athenian Agora. The original statue generated a new way of conceptualizing the god. Apollo represented in this specific configuration, that followed the model of the colossal image, was layered with further meanings. In this particular guise, he was also the ancestral divinity of the Athenians as portrayed at the heart of

Fig. 7: Votive relief of Apollo from the Sanctuary of Asklepios, Athens, ca. 350-325 BCE; Height 38 cm, Width: 21 cm; Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1359.

On this issue, see Corbett 1970.

their civic center by a great master. The process of replicating an image that is the focus of a cult generates another type of a characterization of the image of the divinity; a variant or a replica of the cultic image constitutes a direct link with a particular locale and cult.

Apollo as the Athenian ancestral divinity was replicated in various ways and contexts. For instance, we may see him as Apollo Patroos of the Athenian Agora on a votive relief of the third quarter of the 4th century BCE found at the sanctuary of Asklepios (Fig. 7).<sup>52</sup> Unfortunately a large part of the relief is damaged, but one can recognize the high girdle and the fingers touching the strings of the kithara. In the Athenian sanctuary of his son, Asklepios, Apollo was portrayed in the same way that he was seen at his central cult in the Agora.

Through visual quotation, the relief articulates a tie between the two sanctuaries that were nearby, as well as between father and son. Another 4th-century-BCE relief features Apollo Patroos standing next to his mother and sister, in a form that has been recognized as likely the closest replica of the original statue (Fig. 8).<sup>53</sup> The relief of unknown provenance, although likely Attic, recalls the Thessalian examples noted above. By making the explicit visual reference to Apollo of the Agora, it layers the Delian Triad with specifically Athenian connotations. The divine family is associated with Athenian clans and tribes. Such familial affinities were also articulated in cult practice. An inscription from 363/362 BCE of the genos of the Salaminoi specifies that Apollo Patroos is to be sacrificed a pig, while Artemis and Leto a piglet, and Athena Agelaa, (Athena Leader of the People), was also to receive a piglet.<sup>54</sup> Similar to the inscribed text that articulates familial connections within a cultic context, the relief situates the Delian Triad in Athens, by presenting Apollo as specifically the one of the Athenian Agora.

The figure of Apollo Patroos was referenced beyond Athens for centuries. An early example is seen in a document relief from the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria dated to the middle of the 3rd century BCE (Fig. 9).55

The divine siblings stand by a large omphalos. The scene set within a pedimental frame crowns an inscription that records an oracular consultation by a delegation on

Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1359; Height 38 cm, Width: 21 cm. Svoronos 1908, 279 no. 56; Palagia 1980, 19 no. 2; Lawton 2017, 30.

Athens, National Archaeological Museum, no. 3917; Height: 61 cm, Width: 49 cm; Palagia 1980, 19 no. 1; Lawton 2017, 30; Palagia 2017, 129–30; Kaltsas 2002, 216 no. 447.

SEG 21, 527 = LSCG Suppl. 19 = CGRN 84 = DB MAP S#1098, l. 89–90; Ferguson 1938 at 29–30; Parker 1996, 313; De Schutter 1987, 111 with further bibliography.

Eretria Archaeological Museum 1175; Height: 48 cm, Width: 35 cm; Kourouniotis 1911 at 32–33; Palagia 1980, 19 no. 4; Palagia 1984, 204 no. 145d; Zagdoun 1977, 55 n. 9 fig. 39; Auberson/Schefold 1972, 172–73; Meyer 1989, 127, 235; 320 no. N17.

Fig. 8: Relief with Apollo, Leto and Artemis, ca. 330 BCE; Height: 61 cm, Width: 49 cm; Athens, National Archaeological Museum 3917.

behalf of the Eretrians.56 The text is commonly understood to record an embassy to Delphi, although this restoration is uncertain and needs to be taken with caution. Still, the object's reference to Delphi is clear from the image. In addition to Eretria and Delphi, the document relief evokes a third locale. The depiction of Apollo with high girdle and large kithara invokes the Athenian Apollo Patroos. Apollo of the Delphic oracle now takes on the guise of Apollo the ancestral deity of the Athenians. If in Athens of the 4th century BCE, the Athenian Apollo was associated with the one of Delphi, in third-century Eretria, the Athenian version of Apollo could serve as the icon of the god of Delphi.

The cultic image of Apollo Patroos in Athens was layered with multiple resonances. It evoked the role of Apollo as the deity of mousike, a central aspect of the formation of the citizenry; it articulated Apollo's Delphic and Delian affinities; and once

IG XII.9, 213. On the heavily restored inscription in the context of oracular consultation, see Fontenrose 1978, 259; Rutherford 2013, 101.

Fig. 9: Record Relief from the Sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros, Eretria. 3rd c. BCE; Height: 48 cm, Width: 35 cm; Eretria, Archaeological Museum 1175.

replicated, it could affirm connections to the cultic site in the Agora, both within and beyond Athens. Attributes in Greek religious art could operate at various levels at once. They may highlight specific social and political traits of a cult, reference mythic history, and when incorporated in a specific iconography and configuration, may be connotative of a particular locale and cultic site. Like the vast networks of cultic names across ancient Mediterranean religions, visual representations operated in multiple levels to define and express the range in meanings of deities and cults.

# Bibliography

Adam, Sheila (1966), The Technique of Greek Sculpture in the Archaic and Classical Periods, Oxford. Alroth, Brita (1992), "Changing Modes in the Representation of Cult Images", in: Robin Hägg (ed.), The Iconography of Greek Cult in the Archaic and Classical periods. Proceedings of the First International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, organised by the Swedish Institute at Athens and the European Cultural Centre of Delphi, Delphi, 16–18 November 1990 (Kernos Supplément 1), Athens, 9–46. Amandry, Pierre (1950), La mantique apollinienne à Delphes. Essai sur le fonctionnement de l'oracle, Paris. Auberson, Paul / Schefold, Karl (1972), Führer durch Eretria, Bern.

Beazley, John D. (1963), Attic Red-Figure Vase-Painters, 2nd ed., Oxford.

Bundrick, Sheramy D. (2005), Music and Image in Classical Athens, Cambridge / New York.

Chantraine, Pierre (1968), Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque. Histoire des mots, Paris.

Childs, William A.P. (2018), Greek Art and Aesthetics in the Fourth Century B.C., Princeton.


de Schutter, Xavier (1987), "Le culte d'Apollon Patrôos à Athènes", in: L'Antiquité Classique 56, 103–129.


Furtwängler, Adolf (1893), Meisterwerke der griechischen Plastik: kunstgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, Leipzig.


Gaifman, Milette (2018b), "The Greek Libation Bowl as Embodied Object", in: Milette Gaifman / Verity Platt / Michael Squire (eds.), The Embodied Object in Classical Antiquity (Special Issue of Art History), 444–465.


Himmelmann-Wildschütz, Nikolaus (1959), Zur Eigenart des klassischen Götterbildes, München.

Humphreys, Sally C. (2018), Kinship in Ancient Athens. An Anthropological Analysis, Oxford.


Spivey, Nigel Jonathan (1996), Understanding Greek Sculpture. Ancient Meanings, Modern Readings, London. Squire, Michael (2019), "Art and Archaeology", in: Greece and Rome 66, 2, 312–321.

Stewart, Andrew (2017), "Hellenistic Sculpture from the Athenian Agora, Part 4: The East Pediment and Akroteria of the Temple of Apollo Patroos", in: Hesperia 86, 2, 273–323.

Svoronos, Ioannis N. (1912), "Αἰγίνης ἀνάγλθφον ἀναθηματικὸν", in: ἈρχαιολογικὴἘφημερίς 1912, 254–255. Svoronos, Joannes N. (1908), Das athener Nationalmuseum, Athen.

Thompson, Homer A. (1937), "Buildings on the West Side of the Agora", in: Hesperia 6, 1, 1–226.

Thompson, Homer A. (1961), "The Apollo Patroos of Euphranor", in: Ἀρχαιολογικὴ Ἐφημερίς 1953–1954, 3, 30–44.

Thompson, Homer A. / Wycherley, Richard E. (1972), The Agora of Athens. The History, Shape, and Uses of an Ancient City Center, Princeton.

Tod, M. N., / Wace, A. J. B., (1906), A Catalogue of the Sparta Museum, Oxford.

Veyne, Paul (1990), "Images de divinités tenant une phiale ou patère. La libation comme 'rite de passage' et non pas offrande", in: Mètis 5, 17–29.

Vlachogianni, Elena (2018), "Neoptolemos: Zu einer Reliefbasis aus Athen – ein Denkmal der Kulturpolitik des Lykurg", in: Archäologischer Anzeiger 2018, 2, 1–28.

Walter, Otto (1923), Beschreibung der Reliefs im kleinen Akropolismuseum in Athen, Wien.

Wycherley, Richard E. (1978), The Stones of Athens, Princeton.

Zagdoun, Mary-Anne (1977), Reliefs (Fouilles de Delphes IV, fasc. 6), Paris.

Zeitlin, Froma I. (1989), "Mysteries of Identity and Designs of the Self in Euripides' 'Ion'", in: Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 35, 144–197.

# Anne-Françoise Jaccottet Gods' Names – Gods' Images. Dedications and Communication Process in Sanctuaries

Abstract: The dedications with reliefs displayed in sanctuaries engage and validate a complex communication process of back and forth between the dedicator, the deity and the community attending the sanctuary. Based on the corpus of the so-called "Mysian reliefs", an analysis of the onomastic sequence of the divinity(ies) is thus coupled with its visual counterpart, against the backdrop of the overall communication process of the stele in itself and its implication in the sanctuary. The persistence of the reliefs in representing deities in a very generic way, who are in contrast defined in the dedication texts through an onomastic sequence anchored in the local dimension of the sanctuary, opens up a reflection on the multiple levels of the conception and definition of the divine in antiquity, even in village sanctuaries and on stelae of poor aesthetic quality.

Are the onomastic sequences of ritually honoured deities represented in images? Is the image capable of making visible a ritual and local individualisation of a deity? And does it make sense for the image to seek to represent such individualisation? In order to address these complex and delicate questions, we will focus on the analysis of "bilingual" dedication stelae that contain both an inscribed verbal message and a visual message in the form of a relief. But this internal dialogue between text and image reaches its full expression only in the context of the sanctuary in which these stelae were placed and in relation to the overall communication process at work within the sanctuary.

# 1 Dedications and Communication

A deity in his sanctuary is indeed identifiable and recognisable to everyone by his definition, which we will call minimal or Panhellenic, involving above all his theonym: Apollo, Zeus, Athena, Artemis, etc. But this deity in his sanctuary is also individualised by all sorts of other elements: by his onomastic attribute, of course, which verbally and conceptually delivers part of his specific power, or even his mode of action or appearance; but he is also made specific by a whole set of strategies, be they ritual, behavioural, spatial or temporal, which give him a local dimension and anchor him in the cultic panorama of a given community. In the landscape provided by a sanctuary, the offerings or dedications that line the visitor's path, as tangible marks of a devotional practice, are "speaking objects" in more ways than one.<sup>1</sup> They represent the material interface of a complex communication system involving both the dedicant and the deity in question, in his specificity, and also the whole community that frequents the sanctuary and identifies itself there. The dynamic combination of the three poles of this communication, at the centre of which is the offering, has been well highlighted and graphically synthesised by François de Polignac (Fig. 1).2

Fig. 1: Dynamic of the offering. de Polignac 2009, 32 (original terms have been translated).

This pattern is valid regardless of the nature, form or importance of the offering. When the offering is a dedication, the verbal communication linking, through the inscription and the ritual address, the dedicant and the divinity, in the eyes of the cult community, it really becomes a "telling object". When this dedication is coupled with a relief, the communication becomes even more complex and is enriched with multiple conceptual echoes. These "bilingual" monuments offer a double message, both textual and visual,

Two major milestones in the study of offerings or dedications are the large volume Anathema, which probes the various dedication practices across the periods and cultures of the ancient Mediterranean (Batoloni/Colonna/Grottanelli 1989–1990), and the 2006 colloquium, which focuses on the sacred dedications of the Greco-Roman world (Bodel/Kajava 2009). See in particular the question of the definition of categories as dedications by John Bodel (Bodel 2009). On a critique of the limiting terms of dedication or votive offering, cf. Rüpke 2018: here, we are indeed considering objects (dedication stelae and their combined messages) as communication strategies. On offerings in a communication system, see Rüpke 2009. Original chart, de Polignac 2009, 32, original terms have been translated.

which is nonetheless only one, since text and image are materially inscribed, jointly, on the same stele, the same support.3 The use of two distinct media and the differences, complementarities and even oppositions that seem to "separate" the two expressions from each other should not confuse us. It is the monument as a whole, in the nature and form of the support, the verbal message of the inscription and the visual message of the relief, that forms the offering, that makes sense and functions in this complex ritual communication. Images and texts build a system of communication that doubles the function of a standard offering, by referring doubly to the dedicators, the ritual, the divinity, the cult community, between reality and imaginary reference.

### 2 "Bilingual" Stelae from the Propontis

In order to address the question of the representation of the specific deity to which the offering is addressed, we will turn to a corpus of dedicatory stelae with relief, built on an iconographic basis, i.e. on the visual and not primarily verbal message. The presence of the representation of the divinity, and most often of the dedicants in front of the divinity, formed the selection criterion. Our analysis will therefore move from the image to the text and not first the other way round. These "bilingual" stelae come from the shores and hinterland of the Propontis, between Cyzicus, Daskyleion, Prusa and Nicaea.4 This material, most often crude, comes from village sanctuaries, the precise location of which is unfortunately impossible to determine. As Louis Robert points out about the material from this region, "Les Dardanelles étaient un centre très important de commerce des antiquités et des monuments y sont venus [. . .] de tous les sites des environs". <sup>5</sup> Most of these stelae have thus ended up in local museums or in Athens after numerous adventures that blur the lines of enquiry. On the basis of indications given by Lebas or Perdrizet6 it is, at best and on case-by-case basis, possible to trace these stelae and attribute them to particular regions. To provide a contrast with this homogeneous material, despite its territorial dispersion, lack of artistic quality and the fact that it originates from small rural sites, dated between the end of the Hellenistic period (2nd-1st century BCE) and the beginning of our era (1st century CE), in a second step, we will briefly mention some stelae from a different period, functioning in the same way as dedications in a sanctuary, with a relief showing the divinity and the dedicants, but this time coming from well-known, urban, even prestigious centres, with proven artistic

See e.g. Gaifman 2008 on the inextricable interweaving of textual and visual messages on dedicatory stelae, in this case to the Nymphs.

These reliefs are generally grouped together under the name "Mysian reliefs". See Brehm [1996] 2010; Schörner 2021, 222–224 (with earlier references).

Robert 1936, 60.

Perdrizet 1899.

value. Comparing material with the same ritual and communicative function and the same support, but with different origins, dates, styles and prestige, will allow us to place these stelae in a wider framework of reflection, focusing especially on the value of the onomastic attribute in the general communication process of the sanctuary. The concepts of expression of the divinity that underlie these figurative representations will allow us access to a reflection on the emergence of supra-regional divinities, which are also free from any particular local anchorage.

Let us start with the Propontid stelae. A first overview of a representative sample of these reliefs allows us to distinguish obvious representative constants (Figs. 2–6).

Fig. 2: Mahmur Köy (Panarma), early imperial period. Istanbul inv. no. 1503. Mendel 1914, 837; Cook 1940, 880–88, cat. no. 46.7 Illustration from Thescra III 6c no. 61.

Ζεὺς Χαλάζιος σώζω[ν] | ἐπὶ Διον[υσί]ου. || Θρακιοκωμῆται τῷ θεῷ τὴν στήλλην καθι|έρωσαν ὑπὲρ εὐκαρπίας καὶ ἀβλαβίας τῶν καρπῶν | καὶ ὑπὲρ ὑγείας καὶ σωτηρίας τῶν γεοκτειτῶν καὶ | τῶν συ-

Fig. 3: Unknown provenance, 2nd-1st century BCE. Bursa inv. no. 3119. I.Prusa 1017 = DB MAP S#8287; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 4.<sup>8</sup> Illustration from I.Prusa.

νερχομένων ἐπὶ τὸν θεὸν καὶ κατοικούντων | Θρακίαν κώμην·| Μειδίας Στράτωνος τῷ θεῷ καὶ τοῖ[ς κω]μήταις | διοικήσας πρῶτος τὴν στήλλην ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων ἐπαν|γειλάμενος ἀποκατέστησεν. Literal translation: "Zeus Chalazios who saves. Under (the priesthood?) of Dionysios, the Thrakiokômetai (villagers of Thrakia) consecrated the stele to the god for fertility and the absence of damage to the crops and for the health and safety of the cultivators, of those who gather to the god and who inhabit the village of Thrakia. Meidias son of Straton, who first managed (the building of) the stele for the god and the villagers, restored it, undertaking to do so at his own expense".

Μηνόδωρος Σασαρο[.] | Ἀπόλλωνι Λεοντείωι | vac. εὐχήν vac. "Menodoros son of Sasar . . . . to Apollon Leonteios following a vow".

Fig. 4: Unknown provenance, 2nd-1st century BCE. Bursa inv. no. 3265. I.Prusa 1021; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 86.<sup>9</sup> Illustration from I.Prusa.

Μηνοθέα | Μενίσκου | Μητρὶ Διν|δυμήνῃ | vac. εὐχήν. "Menothea daughter of Meniskos to Mother Dindymene following a vow".

Fig. 5: Unknown provenance, 2nd-1st century BCE. Bursa inv. no. 2580. I.Miletupolis 8 = I.Prusa 1020; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 118.<sup>10</sup> Illustration from I.Prusa.

Μενέφρων Ἀσζαρέτ[ου] | ὑπὲρ αὑτοῦ καὶ τῶν | τέκνων Ἑρμῆι Μελητηνῷ | vac. εὐχήν vac. "Menephron son of Aszaretos for (the savety of) himself and his children to Hermes Meletenos following a vow".

Fig. 6: Triglia, "year 178" = 119 or 104 BCE. Athens MN 1485. I.Apameia Pylai 35 = Perdrizet no. II; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 135.11 Illustration from I.Apameia Pylai.

Οἱ θιασῖται καὶ θιασίτιδες | [ἐ]στεφάνωσαν Στρατονίκην Μενεκρ[ά|τ]ου ἱερωτεύσασαν ἐν τῶι η᾽ καὶ ο᾽ καὶ ρ᾽ | [ἔ]τει Μητρὶ Κυβέλῃ καὶ Ἀπόλλωνι στεφά|[ν]ωι γραπτῶι ἐν στήλλῃ καὶ κηρυκτῶι σὺν ται[νί]| αι καὶ ἄλλωι στεφάνῳ κηρυκτῶι σὺν τα[ινί]|αι ἐν τῆι τοῦ Διὸς συναγωγῇ φιλαγαθήσασ[αν]. Literal translation: "The male and female members of the thiasos crowned Stratonike daughter of Menekratos who was priestess of Mother Kybele and Apollo in the year 178, (honouring her) with a crown inscribed on the stele and proclaimed with a band and with another crown proclaimed with a band for her benevolence at the assembly of Zeus".

The centre of the scene is formed by the altar and the tree, which by graphic convention is to be understood as situated behind the altar. On the left are the human figures, represented in profile, who approach the altar in adoration – as indicated by the gesture of the right hand – and bring offerings and a victim with the necessities for the sacrifice. On the right is the deity or deities, depicted from the front and larger than the human figures, holding a phiale in the direction of the altar in their right hand, in the typical position of the so-called "opfernde Götter", as we shall see later. This same general pattern is valid whatever the deity represented and invoked. One finds mainly Zeus, Apollo, the Mother, Hermes, or a couple of deities, such as Apollo and the Mother in this same situation.<sup>12</sup> The figures of the dedicants as well as the representation of the sanctuary are also part of a representative stereotype. The human figures refer to an offering or sacrificial action in a conventional manner, while the altar and tree function as signifiers for any extra-urban sanctuary. These reliefs are clearly the product of a representative mould, a kind of basic recipe that is generally valid, the sauce of which can be adapted to suit particular needs.<sup>13</sup> This schematic homogeneity could lead one to consider a common provenance or even workshop. But the obvious stylistic differences prevent us from reducing the phenomenon so easily. This homogeneity refers to the same general conception of the dynamics of offering and dedication, rendered in image by this stereotyped scheme. Does this therefore mean that the dedicants accommodated themselves to a generic offer from the workshops, without it being perfectly suited to their wishes?<sup>14</sup> This lectio facilior is not appropriate here. We should rather accept the representative homogeneity as a choice and try to account for what it says about a shared conception of the meaning and ritual dynamics at stake, and what it implies about the communication processes within the sanctuary.

These perfectly generic scenes only become more particular when the deities represented are identified. Only the visual attributes distinguish one deity from another. The sceptre and/or eagle for Zeus, the cithara and long chiton for Apollo, the hat and short tunic for Hermes, the throne, lions and polos for the Mother, etc. The victims sometimes vary too, a large majority of them being sheep, all deities included, but also goats for Hermes and often a bull for Zeus.<sup>15</sup> We therefore find a relief which, through the distinctive signs of the divinity, shows a sanctuary of Zeus, a sanctuary of

Other deities or pairs of deities also appear, less frequently: Artemis, Asklepios, Dionysos, Herakles; Apollo-Artemis, Zeus-Artemis, Apollo-Asklepios, Apollo-Hermes, Zeus-Meter etc. See Brehm [1996] 2010, synthesis 298–371.

Brehm [1996] 2010, 37–51; Jaccottet 2021, 12–13.

Not all reliefs of this type are necessarily topped by a dedication following a vow. Cf. Fig. 6 and note 11 where it is an honorary decree from thiasitai honouring a priestess of Meter Kybele and Apollo. For a development of this issue, see below.

Schörner 2021, 223, who emphasises the increased frequency of bulls or humped oxen as the centuries progressed. Brehm [1996] 2010, 43–46 for the analysis of sacrificial scenes with bulls and the deities involved.

Apollo, a sanctuary of the Mother, etc. But we are still far from the representation of the particular sanctuary dedicated to the precise and functional divinity in which these stelae physically take place.

If we now examine the full message of these stelae, taking into account the inscriptions, we will note that the verbal dedications can take the minimal form of indicating the dedicant(s) and the specific god to whom the dedication is addressed,<sup>16</sup> as well as sometimes more developed or even versified forms.17 These dedications often come from families but also from local communities, katoikoi, metoichoi, thiasoi<sup>18</sup> and refer to a local deity most often specified by a particular and unique onomastic attribute. These onomastic attributes are generally topical and serve to anchor the Zeus, Apollo or Hermes honoured in such and such a village or town in the local territory. This is certain, for example, for a Zeus Tarigyenos, who is expressly linked to a place called Tarigye appearing in one of the inscriptions<sup>19</sup> out of the six concerned by this local onomastic specification.

# 3 The Divinity Between Onomastic Attribute and Generic Representation

We will focus on three stelae, each dedicated to an Apollo that the dedicatory inscription specifies in a distinct manner. The first one (Fig. 3), whose place of discovery could not be determined, invokes Apollo Leonteios, an onomastic attribute attested in a unique way; the second one (Fig. 7) dedicated to Apollo Krateanos, comes from the vicinity of Lake Manyas (Söve), a location deciphered by the concordance of eleven other inscriptions mentioning the same onomastic attribute of Apollo and from the vicinity;20 and the third one (Fig. 8), which comes from Inegöl, in the vicinity of Yenišehir, is addressed to Apollo Libotenos, an onomastic attribute attested to date in this inscription alone.

It should be noted that the three dedications are minimalist, in the sense that they present only three elements: the name of the dedicant, the dative name of the

Above Figs. 3–5, and notes 8–10.

Above Fig. 2. and note 7. For a versified dedication, cf. I.Miletupolis 23; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 80, from Mustafakemalpaşa, 2nd-1st c. BCE, Bursa inv. no. 3160 (former 1117), discussed below (cf. note 40).

On these communities and the difficulty we have in specifying their private or official anchorage, see Brehm [1996] 2010, 62–68.

Six known dedications are addressed to this Zeus Tarigyenos (Akkan/Malay 2007); we retain here the one with a relief: (Akkan/Malay 2007, 18–19 = SEG 57, 1191), from Akpınar (Cayster Valley, Nicaea), 1st c. BCE-1st c. CE, Ödemiş Mus., l. 1–2: τῶν ἐκ Ταριγυης.

Twelve votive reliefs are known for Apollo Krateanos. Cf. Mordtmann 1875, Haussoullier 1898, Michon 1906, and Brehm who summarises (Brehm [1996] 2010, 165–173; cat. no. 6–17).

Fig. 7: Söve (Cyzicus), 1st century BCE. Istanbul inv. no. 1593. Mendel 1914, 852; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 11.<sup>21</sup> Illustration from Thescra III 6c no. 59.

Γλαυκίας Ἀπόλλωνι | Κρατεανῶι εὐχήν.

Fig. 8: Inegöl, 2nd-1st century BCE. Bursa inv. no. 2616 (former 343). I.Prusa 40; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 18.<sup>22</sup> Illustration from I.Prusa.

local deity invoked and the occasion of the dedication, i.e. a vow.<sup>23</sup> The only distinction lies in the onomastic attribute of the Apollo in question. Whatever the meaning

Δημήτριος Διονυσίου | Ἀπόλλωνι Λιβοτηνῷ | vac. εὐχήν.

Compared to Maria Letizia Lazzarini's observations on Greek votive inscriptions (mainly from the archaic period), we note the absence here of the verb marking the dedication, but instead find the addition of the occasion, the vow. The dative alone, however, clearly indicates the object passing into the possession of the god, as does the even more stripped-down formula of the god in the genitive, preceded or not by hieron (ἱερόν). Cf. Lazzarini 1989–1990.

of these onomastic specificities – whether they are epichoric<sup>24</sup> or refer to a particular identity or power of the local deity –, it should be noted that the three reliefs which crown these dedications are schematically identical, although stylistically distinct. The number of human figures represented varies in each case, respectively three, two and four, not corresponding to the statement of the dedication, which in each case includes only one man<sup>25</sup> who presents himself as the sole dedicant. But apart from this minimal schematic distinction, the elements present on each of the three stelae are perfectly similar. Apollo, whether he is Krateanos, Libotenos or Leonteios, is represented the same way each time, as an Apollo Kitharoidos, standing, facing forwards, wearing a long chiton and making a gesture of libation above the altar with his right hand holding a phiale.26 Although there is indeed a local individuation of the divinity in the verbal dedication, even in its minimalist form, the relief remains very generic. The homogeneity of the three represented Apollos is even noteworthy. We are dealing with a well-known and widespread representative type, the Apollo Kitharoidos.<sup>27</sup> The hypothesis that what we have here is an echo of the Apollo of Daphne, the work of Bryaxis at the end of the 4th century BCE, as Linfert and Corsten would have it, is certainly tempting:<sup>28</sup> the late descriptions we have of this colossal statue, made of gilded wood and acrolithic, could correspond to the representative scheme of the stelae in question.29 Not only the long tunic and the cithara, but also the phiale, held in the right hand, offer a striking similarity.<sup>30</sup> There is also a clear schematic parallel between the Apollo on our Propontid stelae and a dedication relief from Megara, also from the 4th century BCE.<sup>31</sup> In both cases, in Megara as in Daphne, the referent is a cult statue. But a precise analysis, like that of Brehm, of the type present on the Mysian reliefs in comparison with the work of Bryaxis shows that there is probably no

For Apollo Krateanos and its anchorage in a place, see the synthesis by Brehm [1996] 2010, 171–173. This is a normal and commonly noticed discrepancy. It should be noted that on the first stele, the dedicant does not specify his patronymic, presenting himself simply as Glaukias, whereas this precision appears in the two other dedications. The father of the dedicant on the third stele must have been of local origin, as the remains of his name Sasaro[ suggest, whereas Dionysios, father of the second dedicant, seems more directly Greek. Onomastics often reveals patronymics of local origin. Cf. e.g. Fig. 5 (note 10).

One could also mention reliefs with the same type of Apollo and with dedications to Apollo Kareios (Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 20) or Apollo Daphnousios (SEG 43, 880–883; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 38–41).

See Flashar 1992.

Linfert 1983, 165–173; Corsten 1987, 55.

Egger 1889.

On the Bryaxis Apollo, see Flashar 1992, 70–77.

Museum of Aegina, without inventory number (Svoronos 1912, 254–255; LIMC I s.v. Apollo [1984], 238 no. 418 a). Illustration: see Gaifman's paper, p. 260 fig. 4. See Flashar 1992, 17–24 (p. 17 no. 28 for other publications of this relief). This type with a phiale is also found on a Megarian coin of Septimius Severus: London, British Museum, Dep. of Coins and Medals, Inv. Megara 1972-8-7-6 (cast). See Flashar 1992, 20–22.

direct takeover of this Apollo of Daphne.<sup>32</sup> To his specific remarks on posture, hair and circulation of the types, I will add a more general observation on the representation of the various deities present on these reliefs.

Indeed, it is noteworthy that all the deities, whoever they may be, are presented in the "opfernde Götter" position, with a phiale in the right hand, as if they were pouring a libation on the altar. This schematic staging is so systematic that it even affects deities who are represented far from the altar, as in the case of reliefs presenting two deities, for example an Apollo standing near the altar and a Meter sitting on her throne "beside" or "behind" Apollo. This representative scheme was chosen not for its realism or its reference to a well-defined statuary type for each deity,<sup>33</sup> but for its generic character and the meaning it conveys. Without returning to this thorny issue, we shall retain the combined interpretations of Annie-France Laurens and Paul Veyne:<sup>34</sup> the gods with the phiale are not performing a ritual; the phiale becomes a marker, an "object-adjectif" as Veyne says. It is subsequently the divine nature of the figure that is thus indicated and underlined, as well as a tacit agreement, a pact between men and gods, the acceptance on the part of the divinities of the devotions made by men. The phiale, in the hand of the gods, is the graphic and symbolic expression of their divine nature, which separates them from men, just as it is a sign of the concord between gods and men, which links them, as a necessary basis for the stability of any human community. In the reliefs we are dealing with here, the systematic choice to represent the gods in this ritual gesture makes it implausible that the representation of the divinity was always the takeover or direct quote of a statuary model. It is true that in Daphne, as in Megara, the Apollo Kitharoidos held a phiale in his right hand, but a larger model of the Apollo Kitharoidos without a phiale is just as conceivable. For the other divinities, it would indeed be difficult, in each case, to find a known model with a phiale. It is therefore better to consider the deities represented to be based on patterns made sufficiently obvious by the sharing of the same visual culture to refer to the generic deity that one wishes to depict and, in turn, the phiale to be a systematic addition translating the divine nature of the figure represented and the importance of reciprocity in the communication process at work within each of these village sanctuaries.

The entire scheme of these reliefs is thus generic and based on a wide consensus in conception, within the framework of a shared general culture; this repetitive and stereotyped scheme refers not to precise and individual places, acts and figures, but

Brehm [1996] 2010, 82–104.

That such a search for precise statuary types for the Mysian reliefs is irrelevant, see Brehm [1996] 2010, 79–81.

The latter builds his analysis as a continuation of the fine, notably iconographic, reflections of Annie-France Laurens. Laurens 1985; Veyne 1990. Cf. Simon 1953, Simon 2004, and Himmelmann 1996 (from a column in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung). On this delicate question, cf. in the line of Vernant, Gaifman 2018, 152–157.

rather to types: typical dedicants, typical sanctuary – schematised by the altar and the tree –, typical ritual act,<sup>35</sup> typical deity, recognisable at first glance as Apollo, by visual and cultural memory, but not as the Apollo of the place, ritually invoked. We have, in the text, a very local god invoked as such for the advantages and benefits he can grant on the occasion of wishes and, in the relief, a consensual representation of a god in a widely known and recognised form.

### 4 Generic Relief and Various Verbal Messages

Before analysing this tension between the very specific and the generic further, we should first complete the statement of occurrences of the representative scheme in relation to inscriptions. We see the common representative type appearing, with dedicants, altar and deity, for honorary decrees. In the case of honours bestowed on a priest36 or a priestess (Fig. 637), the scheme retains an obvious meaning since it is for the exercise of his or her priestly functions within the sanctuary and thus for the rituals practised there that the priest or priestess is honoured. The generic relief has been taken over as it is, but the stele may also show, above the common scheme, the particular honours bestowed on the priest. This is the case in the first of the abovementioned inscriptions (not represented here), for a priest. A wreath with bands appears above the frame of the relief and the text states that the thiasitai crown the priest Asklepiades, son of Melidoros, on the stele and with a flower wreath with bands for life. The relationship between the text and the decoration is thus precise, since the crown, represented at the top of the stele, is expressly mentioned in the inscription in addition to the one that the priest will wear "in real life" every year. One would therefore be reluctant to consider that the main relief, with its pattern seen many times accompanying dedications, was chosen here for lack of anything better and simply used out of ease because it was what the local trade could provide. The relief was placed at a good distance from the top of the stele to make room for the crown. This low position of the relief is not found in dedication stelae. The stele was therefore commissioned specially, with a special request for the wreath and thus the position of the relief.<sup>38</sup> It would obviously have been possible to request a different

On rituals represented as an imaginary of ritual, cf. Gaifman 2008.

I.Apameia Pylai 33 = Perdrizet no. III; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 44, Triglia, end of the 2nd c. BCE, Athens MN 1486: relief showing Zeus; no mention of the god in the decree text.

Relief showing Apollo and Meter Kybele, who appear by name in the inscription as a complement to the dative of ἱερωτεύσασαν. It should be noted that Apollo appears in the inscription without an onomastic attribute, unlike Meter Kybele.

The second stele (Fig. 6) proceeds differently: the personalisation of the visual message concerns the dedicants, the thiasitai, that a second relief, placed under the generic dedication relief, shows banqueting.

decoration if the common scheme had been inadequate or not entirely suitable. The piety of the priest and the proper performance of his office can be expressed by the common design, without the idea that the worshipper in the relief represents the priest.

Let us continue our investigations. We come across this type of dedication relief again to honour a strategos<sup>39</sup> and even an athlete.<sup>40</sup> Both inscriptions are from katoikoi and the deity represented is clearly Zeus in the second case, probably also in the first, although the relief is mutilated at the level of the deity's head. This gap in the first stele makes it unclear whether a crown was engraved on the top of the monument or not;<sup>41</sup> the inscription text does not mention any specific mark of honour. The stele honouring the athlete, on the other hand, does have a crown in the tympanum of the pediment that tops the monument. The versified text mentions the crowns won in competitions with the tangible honour of placing the stele on the same footing (ἰσόθρονον) as statues of honoured human figures. A second relief, placed on this stele below the typical relief, shows two figures in opposite contrapposto, one wearing a himation, on the right, the other naked, holding a palm (?) diagonally; an object evoking a vase is placed on the ground to the right of both figures. We probably have a representation of the athlete on the left, without it being possible to determine the identity of the clothed figure on the right (magistrate? or deity?). Was it intended to represent living human figures or statues? There is still some doubt as to the direct relationship between the text mentioning honorary statues and the second relief. Here again, the thiasitai requested and obtained a personalised decoration. If the typical relief used for the dedications is found on this stele, it is because it had a meaning and not because the thiasitai simply had to make do with what the market could offer. In the case of honours dedicated to priests or priestesses, the generic piety dimension induced by the figurative scenes is one more link in the complex communication chain at work within the sanctuary.<sup>42</sup>

If this same scheme involving dedicants, acts of offering or sacrifice at the altar and divinity can be knowingly chosen to express in image dedications – and not only to the divinities represented43 – as well as honorary decrees, it is because the tension

I.Miletupolis 20; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 72, from Alpağut? 1st c. BCE, Bursa, inv. no. 2584.

I.Miletupolis 23; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 80, from Mustafakemalpaşa, 2nd-1st c. BCE, Bursa, inv. no. 3160 (former 1117).

A special feature of this relief is that, in addition to the small human figure (servant?) who usually brings the victim to the altar, a second figure of the same size stands in front of the humped ox and holds a knife pointed at the animal's neck. The basket carried by a female figure behind the altar is also more detailed as four bulges have been depicted protruding from the rim, referring to offerings. Particular care has thus been taken in the execution of this relief.

On piety as a general message induced by bilingual stelae of dedication, see Gaifman 2008, in this case to the Nymphs.

Cf. for example a dedication to Aphrodite Pontia and Poseidon accompanied by a relief clearly showing a Meter and another deity (Aphrodite? Apollo?). CCCA I, 283; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 141, Cyzicus, 2nd-1st c. BCE, Istanbul inv. no. 2758.

we feel between text and image was resolved by the wider framework of the presentation of the stele. Moreover, the context of these stelae, set into the ground in a specific sanctuary, gave meaning to the text, the relief and the combination of the two expressions, carried by the same monument.

#### "Bilingual" Stelae, Onomastic Attributes and Communication in the Sanctuary

It is in this perspective and with these modes of functioning and text-image reference in mind that we should reconsider the question of the precise identity of the honoured deity and its verbal expression with or without translation into images. The presence of these local onomastic attributes in the texts seems perfectly natural to us, given that studies conducted since the middle of the 20th century have insisted on the individualisation of the divinity, most often by an onomastic attribute, in order to guarantee good communication with the divine. The theonym and, especially, the onomastic attribute, contain the particular dunamis, the sacred potential to which one appeals, especially when making a vow, as here, and failure to refer to it could jeopardise the success of the initiated exchange with the deity. It is on this paradigm that we seek to find, in images, signs of this essential element in communication with the divine, with regard to the efficiency of the local ritual practice and the expected benefits. But let us note that the verbal inscription of the onomastic attribute is not always a necessity. In great and prestigious sanctuaries such as Delphi or Olympia, are there not dedications to a Zeus or an Apollo without any mention of the expected onomastic attribute: Olympios for the former, Pythios for the latter? There is, of course, the famous helmet dedicated to the Zeus of Olympia by Miltiades before or after the battle of Marathon and bearing the inscription Μιλτιάδες ἀνέ[θ]εκεν [⋮ τ]ο͂ι Δί ("Miltiades dedicated to Zeus"),<sup>44</sup> with no onomastic attribute, just as Miltiades has no patronymic. But other dedications, from individuals as well as communities, knowingly omit the onomastic attribute, something made obvious by the presence of other parallel dedications that do include this famous onomastic attribute.45

IG I <sup>3</sup> 1472 = SEG 14, 351. Olympia, Arch. mus. B 2600. Mallwitz/Herrmann 1980, 95–96, cat. no. 57, pl. 57; Kunze 1956, pl. 34; 35.

For example 1) Olympia: next to a spearhead dedicated to Zeus Olympios by an inhabitant of Thourioi as a tithe of a booty (I.Olympia 256), one finds, for instance, the dedication on a base of Philesios of Eretria to Zeus, probably from the beginning of the 5th century BCE (I.Olympia 248: Φιλήσιος ἐποίει. | Ἐρετριῆς τῷ Δί): there would have been sufficient space on this base to inscribe the onomastic attribute. 2) Delphi: dedications of an Anatolian family towards the end of the 3rd century BCE (F.Delphes III.4, 166a: Ἄντοχος τὰ[ν ἀδελφὰν καὶ τὰν θυγατέρα καὶ τὸ]ν υἱὸν Ἀπόλλωνι. Restitution proposed by way of example by Flacelière); dedication of the Lipareans (F.Delphes III.4, 182: [Λιπα]ρ [αῖ]ο[ι ἀπὸ] Τ[υ]ρσ[ανῶν] Ἀ[π]ό[λλω]ν[ι]: restitutions guaranteed by neighbouring inscriptions from the same base, around the middle of the 5th c. BCE), or again dedication of Polemarchos, his wife and

Are these offerings to Zeus or Apollo less "effective" than those that name the deity of the sanctuary in all its specificity? Is it the Panhellenic notoriety of these sanctuaries and the deities honoured there that allow for these ellipses? Other examples in our Mysian sanctuaries put this argument into perspective. A dedication commemorating a vow made by a certain Asklepiades to Apollo, without specification;46 another dedication commemorating a vow, by a certain Karsimaros to Zeus;47 a dedicant bearing the theophoric name Matron who, successively and in the same sanctuary (in the vicinity of Cyzicus, close to the present village of Alpağut) makes a dedication to Meter Patroia and another simply to Meter, both times following a vow and both times with the same relief.48 And Meter is invoked, under a similar relief, as a simple goddess, or the goddess (thea), near Daskyleion.49 As has already been pointed out, the setting of the stelae in a particular sanctuary automatically resolves what might appear to be a significant lack or absence, or even a defect in the ritual dynamic. Placed in a sanctuary clearly identified as that of a particular deity, the "truncated" message is no longer such; and if the sanctuary is a space shared by the oikoumene, the reference to the identity of the local god is all the more obvious. Let us therefore at least acknowledge that what seems to us to be out of the ordinary with these reliefs, in terms of their ritual communicative task, i.e. the very generic character of the deities as well as the ritual acts represented, may very well also be the fact of the verbal dedications.

Rather than considering the generic character of the dedicatory reliefs a defect, an inability to represent the divinity in its local and cultural specificity, we should instead ask ourselves not about the absence of specificity, but rather about the reasons for a generic choice, not in a dynamic of failure or renunciation, but in the perspective of a multi-media (multi-sensory) communication within the sanctuary and

daughter, to Apollo in the 1st c. BCE (F.Delphes III.4, 259); dedication to Pythian Apollo, e.g. F.Delphes III.4, 246, dedication of Praxo for his grandson (3rd quarter of the 2nd c. BCE), or a statue dedicated by the koinon of the Amphictyons to Pythian Apollo in honour of the new Pythia, sister of Caligula (F.Delphes III.4, 257). Sylvain Lebreton's detailed study of the epithets of Zeus in Athens in this volume also clearly shows the relatively common use of dedications featuring simple theonyms, without epithets. This use seems to have developed even from the 4th century BCE onwards. Cf. Lebreton/Marano tab. 1a and 1b and note 12.

SEG 15, 771; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 21, unknown provenance, 2nd-1st c. BCE, Ankara Mus. no. 199. See also Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 31.

Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 49, unknown provenance (area around Cyzicus), late Hellenistic–early Imperial period, Bursa inv. no. 9252.

I.Miletupolis 12 a and b; Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 106–107, Alpaǧut, Imperial period, Bursa inv. no. 7840–7841. A third relief probably bears another mutilated dedication of Matron to the Mother (I.Miletupolis 12c; Brehm [1996] 2010 cat. no. 108), while a fourth relief has no inscription (Brehm [1996] 2010 cat. no. 109). It cannot be excluded that they may be different dedicators with the same name. Nevertheless, the use of an onomastic attribute for Meter remains optional in this sanctuary.

Brehm [1996] 2010, cat. no. 96, Ergili – Daskyleion, late Hellenistic–early Imperial period, Istanbul Arch. Mus. Depot 1, inv. no. 5359.

even beyond:50 what would have been the benefit of giving the deity represented, as well as the dedicants and the setting of the sanctuary itself, a unique and specific character? And, as a complementary proposal, what interest could be derived from this figurative indeterminacy, in terms of the general communication induced by these bilingual stelae themselves, and by their anchorage in a specific sanctuary?

If, indeed, these reliefs opt for a Panhellenic determination of the deities invoked, Zeus, Apollo, Meter etc., the gesture of libation attributed to the representation of this generic deity makes it close and effective: the god enters into the ritual dynamic by taking over the simplest cultic act that relates men and gods. The generic relief then becomes the visualisation of the ritual dynamics accepted by both sides, which in turn guarantees the proper functioning of the sanctuary, taken in a generic way, and the healthy foundations of the relationship between the community and the divinity. It should also be emphasised that, despite their poor artistic quality, these reliefs present a subtle image of the complex dynamics of the relationships induced by the offering. The deities are always represented facing forwards and not in profile like the dedicants. Is this due to the difficulty that local engravers would have encountered in representing a god in profile, identifiable in a generic way? This is doubtful, although it cannot be excluded. But the systematic of this representative choice in this vast region must have, if not another purpose, at least a particular meaning. If we once again take up the communication scheme induced by an offering proposed by François de Polignac (Fig. 1), we will note that the representation of the god facing forwards directly and unequivocally summons the spectator into the dynamics of the ritual scene evoked. The deity does not look at the depicted dedicants, nor into the "void", but instead looks at the real potential dedicants walking through the sanctuary. This triangulation of visual addresses draws the involvement of the community as a whole in and through the ritual act represented, as well as in and through the ritual act experienced live. It can thus be considered that it is largely the stelae that make the sanctuary, that are the sign and signpost (σῆμα) of the sanctuary, the sign and signal of the place of communication between divinity and human community. It is subsequently a communicative norm that is represented on these generic reliefs, a social norm as well, which constructs the sanctuary and the community as much as it expresses them. The community, even in absentia, remains in permanent ritual contact with the divinity through the indeterminacy of the figures and acts, through the performative function of the act represented, through the inclusion of the sanctuary visitor in the communication dynamic and through the gaze of the divinity on the visitor.

It should be noted that, in terms of their functioning and the communication dynamics, these poor quality reliefs go one step further than the traditional stelae that we

Communication within the sanctuaries, at least in the most important ones, was the subject of particular attention. Studies on the placement of offerings in the Asklepieion of Pergamum reveal a clear spatial distinction of dedications according to the nature of the support, the form of the offering and the type of message inscribed. Cf. Ferretti 2021 and Ferretti 2022.

find addressed to the Nymphs (Fig. 9),51 to Artemis Brauronia (Fig. 10) or to Asklepios (Fig. 11) from the Athenian region, for example. The deities, in profile or at best in a three-quarter view, never look directly at the viewer of the offering but rather at the dedicants represented or into the "void". However, the representational scheme used here is perfectly comparable to the Propontid scheme: deity, dedicants and, when present, offerings brought to the altar are represented in the same generic dynamic and in the same conception of man-god relations. But with a deity who escapes the frontality, the ritual and referential dynamics shown in the relief are closed in on itself, within the scene depicted. The often well-marked frame of these representations further emphasises the closed space that these reliefs represent. There are no openings to the outside world, no visual inclusion of the visitor. The quality of the relief and the virtuosity of the sculptor are artistic distinctions, but not iconographic criteria: The Propontid stelae, in their simplicity and even their stylistic awkwardness, convey a more elaborate ritual, religious and societal message than the superb stelae of Athens.

Fig. 9: Mt. Pentelikos, 300 BCE. Athens MN 4466. SEG 29, 195.<sup>52</sup> Illustration: George E. Koronaios (CC BY-SA 4.0).

On the detailed analysis of these Nymph reliefs, see Gaifman 2008.

Ἀγαθήμερος | Νύνφαις | ἀνέθηκε. "Agathemeros dedicated (the stele) to the Nymphs".

Fig. 10: Brauron, mid-4th c. BCE. Brauron, Mus. Arch. 1151. SEG 52, 170.53

Fig. 11: Attica, 340–320 BCE. Paris, Louvre MA 755.

But the analysis can take us even further. Representing a deity in a generic way, within the well-defined framework of a precise sanctuary, in relation to the verbal dedication

Ἀρτέμιδι εὐξαμένη ἀνέθηκεν Ἀριστονίκη Ἀντιφάτους Θοραιέως γυνή. "To Artemis following a vow Aristonike wife of Antiphates Thoraieus dedicated (the stele)".

that makes the god unique and local, gives us the perception of a double representation of the divine. On the one hand, on the ritual level, a god with a particular dunamis whose attention is sought for specific causes, through ritual practices codified in a local manner, whether through sacrificial prescriptions, clothing, behaviour, possible required abstinences, etc. On the other hand, a supra-regional divinity widely recognised through the sharing of the same visual and referential culture. The god is shown from two complementary perspectives. The Apollo of the place that is ritually and onomastically invoked is also, as the relief emphasises, Apollo in a nutshell, the Apollo that everyone knows and recognises. The same reasoning can, of course, be applied to the graphically evoked ritual and the human figures represented as dedicants. The precise dedicant named in the inscription is, in the relief, the prototype of every dedicant that everyone is inclined to be or become. The local and prescribed ritual act is also a generic ritual act that everyone can recognise; ritual is represented in general, not a ritual. And it is in this figurative non-individuation that the very concept of ritual, which has no specific term in antiquity (except for the catch-all term thusia), takes shape, without being expressed verbally. The ritual represented in its generic form manifests the awareness of a concept that the terms do not capture.

This double reading of the god – as both local and recognised worldwide (in the sense of a shared Greek and Roman culture) –, as well as the double reading of the framework, the rite and the community, implies the awareness of this conceptual back and forth, between the particular and the generic, as indissociable and totally interdependent expressions at the basis of any cultic relationship, in its two poles of ritual efficiency and referential matrix. By introducing the representation of nonindividualised, referential gods and rites into the sanctuary and individualised ritual practice, the dedicatory reliefs inscribed the particular into the general. Not only was there no benefit to be gained from a figurative individuation of the god and rites on the reliefs, but on the contrary, this individuation would have deprived the overall message of a dimension that is essential to an in-depth understanding of the meaning of the gestures and references summoned to a ritual site.

# 5 Particular, Generic and Supra-Regional Deities

In conclusion, I would like to open up the reflection and take the risk of forming a hypothesis in the form of an interrogation. Is this insistence on representing the honoured deity in a generic and widely recognised way, alongside and in addition to its local onomastic and ritual specificity, a conceptual clue, supporting or expressing the emergence of ubiquitous deities that can free themselves in part from a local identity in order to be honoured ritually? I am thinking here of deities, ritually honoured in sanctuaries, who often escape specification by an onomastic attribute: Asklepios, for example, who, although he bears some local epithets, notably epichoric, and is regularly referred to as Soter, "Saviour", is most often honoured without onomastic attributes;54 or collective deities, such as the Muses, who also mostly escape onomastic determination. The absence of an onomastic attribute does not mean that these divinities do not have their own local profile, which the particularities of the place and/or of the local cult practice automatically confer on them. In the case of Asklepios, it should be noted that the representations of the god, with or without Hygeia, are also very stereotyped and generic. This pattern is even well-known and recognised enough to serve as a mould for a healing hero such as Amphiaraos, who has no visual identity of his own, but who is defined above all by an incubatory practice that brings him closer to Asklepios.55 This onomastic non-specification of the god could perhaps be inferred from his healing dunamis and/or his relatively recent introduction; this remains to be proven. I will take another example to circumvent these objections: Dionysos. This god, whom the Ancients wanted to present as more "recent" than the others – an imaginary construction that has now been proven – has a richer iconography than any other divinity, while bearing numerous onomastic attributes, in particular from the 3rd century BCE onwards, that anchor him in particular rites as well as in very distinct local settings. And this multiplicity of onomastic attributes does not weaken in any way over the centuries, as witnessed for example by the varied and often local addresses he receives in the context of Dionysian associations that are widely spread both geographically and chronologically (3rd century BCE – 3rd–4th century CE).56 This divinity experienced a particular development as the tutelary god of the guilds of artists, actors and professionals of the spectacle, the Technitai, who systematically placed themselves under his patronage. In the Hellenistic period, in the various centres where these Technitai associations flourished, their general, and I would say generic, name, which was likely to be declined, can be summarised by the usual formula: Οἱ περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τεχνεῖται, literally "the Technitai around Dionysos", which a geographical precision then makes it possible to attribute to a certain perimeter of activity: the Technitai of Isthmus and Nemea, those of Ionia and Hellespont, those of Athens, etc. Cases where the theonym is specified by a very onomastic attribute are rare and linked to particular contexts, such as the Technitai of

In this volume, Clarisse Prêtre explores certain epithets of Asklepios in his specification of doctor with finesse. The analytical graphs of Athenian dedications proposed by Sylvain Lebreton in this volume also clearly show the propensity of the dedication process towards the Athenian Asklepios to free itself from any epithet (tab. 1b and note 12).

According to a similar procedure, the god Kabiros at the Kabirion of Thebes clearly took up the iconography of Dionysos, but maintained his archaic appearance, with beard and mature age, even though Dionysos was represented as a young man from the last third of the 5th century (Jaccottet 2011).

Jaccottet 2003 (and especially the index s.v. Dionysos, with all his onomastic attributes attested in the associative cults).

Dionysos Kathegemon, a dynastic divinity of the Attalids, which refers to a cult directly associating the god of the Technitai with the royal power.57

In a very general and conventional way, the Technitai are under the patronage of a "naked" Dionysos. This is not surprising, since these associations travel and must be able to fit into many local cultural and cultic landscapes. For the Technitai are "the most pious of the Hellenes" <sup>58</sup> and the highest magistracy of the koinon of Ionia and those of Syracuse is that of priest, eponymous, since his name is used to date official acts.<sup>59</sup> A priest of Dionysos, without specification,<sup>60</sup> besides in Athens where the priesthood is that of Dionysos Melpomenos, well tinged with a theatrical rather than local anchorage.61 This non-specificity of the Dionysos of the Technitai and the priesthood clearly shows the diffusion of a supra-local Dionysos, without any identification that would link him too directly to such and such place or any particular ritual practice. This appearance of a Dionysos, culturally honoured, but without any specific distinction, is certainly linked to the type of theatrical and spectacular activity generally proposed by the Technitai. But it did not arise out of nothing. And is it at all coincidental that Dionysos is a divine figure who, more than any other, is ubiquitous in iconography, in all registers and media? The awareness, conceptually maintained by visual communication, that a local god is also and perhaps essentially a generic god common to all Greeks, is a necessary premise for this widely supra-regional development of certain deities.

Let us continue. When the Hellenistic Technitai-associations, which were distinct according to their geographical scope, became an "ecumenical" synodos in the imperial era – in the sense of an association active in the whole territory of the Empire and the oikoumene, the known and inhabited earth (by Greek and Roman) –, the question of the "ecumenism" of an indiscriminate Dionysos became even more acute as some emperors were included in the nomenclature of these synods as neos Dionysos. This is notably the case with Hadrian. Besides Ἡ ἱερὰ θυμελικὴ σύνοδος τῶν ἀπὸ τῆς οἰκουμένης περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τεχνεῖται ("The sacred theatrical association of worldwide artists around Dionysos"), one will thus find decrees emanating from "the

E.g. CIG 3068A l. 1–2 = Le Guen 2001 I, no. 48 = Aneziri 2003 D11a, l. 3–5: ἔδοξε τῷ κοινῷ τῶν περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τεχνι|τῶν τῶν ἐπ᾽ Ἰωνίας καὶ Ἑλλησπόντου καὶ τῶν πε[ρὶ] | τὸν Καθηγεμόνα Διόνυσον (Teos, 2nd quarter of the 2nd c. BCE). Cf. also, among others, the inscription cited in the next note.

IG XΙ, 4, 1061 + 1136 = Le Guen 2001 I, no. 45 = Aneziri 2003 D10, l. 21: ἐκ πάντων τῶν Ἑλλήνων εὐσεβέστατοι (Delos, around 180–167 BCE).

Le Guen 2001 II, 65–66.

On priests within the Technitai-associations, cf. Aneziri 2003, 127–135.

Cf. Aneziri 2003, 30–33 concerning the role of priest of Dionysos Melpomenos assumed by the priest of the Athenian Technitai. This cult was probably a public cult, whose gentilic priesthood was at first reserved for the genos of the Euneidai. The two priesthoods then coexisted, as we can see from the two prohedra seats reserved in the theatre for each of the two priests of Dionysos Melpomenos. This public anchoring of the cult probably explains the presence, unattested elsewhere, of an onomastic attribute to the Dionysos honoured by the Technitai.

world-wide artists around Dionysos and the emperor Traianus Hadrianus Augustus Caesar, new Dionysos" (τῶν ἀπὸ τῆς οἰκουμένης πε|ρὶ τὸν Διόνυσον καὶ Αὐτοκράτορα Τρα|ιανὸν Ἁδριανὸν Σεβαστὸν Καίσαρα | νέον Διόνυσον τεχνειτῶν).62 This cohabitation of two gods, Dionysos and the emperor as Neos Dionysos, expressed as such by name in this decree,63 shows how the "ecumenism" of the Technitai rests on the "ecumenism" of a "naked" Dionysos and how this, in its "ecumenical" dimension, can become a model for a divine assimilation of emperors or other dynasts with a supralocal scope. It is no coincidence either that the first attestation of divine assimilation of dynasts through the use of the formula neos + theonym is with Dionysos, for Ptolemy XII, also significantly endowed with the name of Auletes, in 64 BCE.<sup>64</sup> In order to allow the powerful of this world to present themselves as a new god, these gods had to be devoid of local anchorage and thus become "ecumenical". 65

What is the relationship between the appearance of these Neoi Dionysoi, the Technitai and our Mysian stelae? The generic character of the deities and their ritual context on the reliefs of the Mysian stelae contains within itself the concept of an "ecumenical" deity. The generalised use of the generic figuration of deities on dedications, be it in rural sanctuaries, in the heart of Athens or elsewhere, is an expression that anchors in people's consciousness, as much as it contributes to its formation and expression, the supra-local dimension of the divine powers, which are nevertheless invoked specifically in each of the sanctuaries. It is on this basis and this double awareness of a particular and a generic, embodied by the divinity, that the cults of divinities with few onomastic attributes were able to develop, such as Asklepios, for example, who was worldwide (in the ancient sense of the word) present through his "ecumenically" recognised cult practices, and the Dionysos of the Technitai, who was

For this example, I.Ancyra 141. Another example, even more complex in its statement: I.Ancyra 143, l. 1–7: [ψή]φισμα τῆς ἱερᾶ[ς Ἁδριανῆς θυμε|λι]κῆς συνόδου τ[ῶν ἀπὸ τῆς οἰκουμέ|νη]ς περὶ τὸν Διό[νυσον καὶ αὐτοκράτορα | Τ]ραιανὸν Ἁδρια[νὸν Καίσαρα Σεβαστὸν | νέ]ον Διόνυσον [τ]ε[χνειτῶν ἱερονεικῶν | στ]εφανε[ιτ]<ῶ>ν καὶ [τῶν τούτων συναγω|ν]ιστῶν ("Decree of the sacred Hadrianic theatrical synod of the world-wide artists around Dionysos and the emperor Traianus Hadrianus Caesar Augustus, new Dionysos, victors of sacred games and wearers of crowns, and their fellow competitors").

Ι.Αncyra 141, l. 16–17: "the piety of the homeland towards both gods": τήν τε εὐσεβείαν τῆς πατρίδος | εἰς ἀμφοτέρους τοὺς θεοὺς.

One axis of the 2014–2018 Chronos research programme of the UMR 8210 AnHiMA (Anthropologie et Histoire des Mondes Antiques) was devoted to the premises and development of the Neos + theonym formula. "NEOI. Des hommes nouveaux dieux. De la titulature hellénistique neos à l'imitatio romaine" (Stéphanie Wyler and Anne-Françoise Jaccottet, direction). The results will be published soon, cf. Jaccottet/Wyler 2023. This programme has led to a larger research project, "DIVI. Frontières et modalités de passages entre humain et divin dans le bassin méditerranéen antique", a five-year research programme for 2019–20223 UMR 8210 AnHiMa under the direction of Sylvia Estienne, Anne-Françoise Jaccottet, Stéphanie Wyler.

On the various attempts and stages of rapprochement, or assimilation, before that, between Hellenistic dynasts and deities, cf. e.g. Caneva 2020 and Caneva 2021.

necessarily essentially supra-regional in order to respond to the plasticity that these associations had to manifest, in order to be able to adapt to all the different local areas and dynasts. The next step will be that of the neoi + theonyms, to which, as if by chance, Dionysos opens the way. The image, that of the dedicatory reliefs, as well as the abundant Dionysian iconography, plays the role of a vector of "universality", not only in the sense of a shared cultural understanding, but also in the area of effective rituality capable of opening up to a supra-local dimension in certain circumstances.

# Bibliography


Haussoullier, Bernard (1898), "Notes épigraphiques, I. Apollon Krateanos, II. Zeus Kersoullos, III. Zeus Epikarpios à Zéla (Pont)", in: Revue de philologie 22, 163–169.


Grèce ancienne", in: Recherches et Documents du Centre Thomas More 48, 35–59.


Linfert, Andreas (1983), "Der Apollon von Daphne von Bryaxis", in: Damaszener Mitteilungen 1, 165–173.


Robert, Louis (1936), Collection Froehner I. Inscriptions grecques, Paris.

Rüpke, Jörg (2009), "Dedications Accompanied by Inscriptions in the Roman Empire: Functions, Intentions, Modes of Communication", in: Bodel/Kajava 2009, 31–41.


Iconographie – Histoire des religions – Archéologie (EGeA 9), Bern / Berlin / Bruxelles, 215–227. Simon, Erika (1953), Opfernde Götter, Berlin.

Simon, Erika (2004) "Libation", in: ThesCRA I, 2004, 237–253.

Svoronos, Ioannis (1912), "Αἰγίνης ἀνάγλυφον ἀναθηματικὸν", in: Ἀρχαιολογικὴ ἐφημερίς 1912, 254–255.

Veyne, Paul (1990), "Images de divinités tenant une Phiale ou Patère. La libation comme 'rite de passage' et non pas offrande", in: Mètis 5, 17–28.

# Claudia Posani Epithets and Iconographic Attributes of Kubaba in Syro-Anatolian Iron Age Sources

Abstract: The goddess Kubaba is one of the most attested deities of the Neo-Hittite pantheon, both in written and iconographic sources. The way that the goddess' name is written in Hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions changes considerably depending on the texts, ranging from being written out in full to abbreviated forms. In these sources, divine names are preceded by the determinative logogram for "god" (DEUS): in the case of Kubaba, this sign is often followed only by the logogram AVIS, to be interpreted as a symbol of the (name of the) goddess itself. Moreover, Kubaba's name occurs in association with some distinctive epithets that highlight different aspects of the goddess. The iconography of Kubaba is also well attested. The characteristic attributes of the goddess are the pomegranate, an object traditionally interpreted as a mirror and a particular shape of headgear. Firstly, the present study aims to focus on the epithets of Kubaba. Secondly, the iconography of Kubaba will be investigated. Lastly, particular focus will be given to possible connections between epithets and iconographic attributes of the deity in order to investigate whether and how they contribute to constructing the divine figure of Kubaba.

# 1 Introduction

Scholars have devoted many studies to the goddess Kubaba. They have involved a variety of issues, but are mainly related to the nature of the deity, the spread of her cult and her connection with the Phrygian matarkubileya and the Greek goddess Kybele.

In fact, as is well known, the first testimonies of the existence of Kubaba date back to the 2nd millennium BCE1 and some of them testify a connection between the goddess and the city of Karkemish. However, most of the evidence related to Kubaba dates back to the 1st millennium BCE, coming not only from Karkemish itself and other Syro-Anatolian states, but also from the Neo-Assyrian, as well as the Lydian empire. The debate involving the nature of Kubaba is extremely complex. It is indissolubly linked to the uncertainty surrounding the identifiability of one and the same deity in all written and iconographic sources, apparently connected to the goddess, which originate in contexts that are chronologically and geographically different.

Hutter 2017, 114–115; Posani 2014, 549–551.

Leaving aside entangled questions such as those connected with the linguistic and historical relationship between Kubaba, the Phrygian meter and Greek Kybele,<sup>2</sup> this study focusses on investigating the epithets and iconographic attributes of the goddess that can be found in the Syro-Anatolian sources from the 1st millennium BCE.

After the collapse of the Hittite empire (first decades of the 12th century BCE), a number of potentates flourished in the area of south-eastern Anatolia and northwestern Syria, consisting of small kingdoms with a fairly regional range. Their rise was probably due to the initiative of high-ranking people or families, in all likelihood descendants of Hittite dignitaries and officials, who took advantage of the vacuum of power left by the collapse of the centralised administration of Hatti to take power over territorially limited municipalities. These kingdoms were rife with multilingualism (Luwian, Aramaean, Phoenician) and cultural hybridity.<sup>3</sup> Most of the evidence on Kubaba comes from this cultural and chronological milieu.

An attempt to recognise the characterisation of Kubaba based on a detailed analysis of all her epithets has not yet been undertaken, nor have considerations been developed on the possible links between the epithets of the goddess and her iconographic attributes.

Consequently, this study will first of all focus on the epithets of Kubaba, which occur in the first-millennium Syro-Anatolian texts. The available evidence, consisting of Hieroglyphic Luwian and Aramaic inscriptions, comes with details on the provenance and chronological attribution of the inscriptions (at least when these data are suitable), as well as the different types of text supports.

Secondly, we will investigate the iconography of Kubaba to identify elements that could be useful in order to better understand the characterisation of the goddess.

Lastly, particular focus will be placed on possible connections between textual and iconographic attributes of the deity in order to investigate whether, and if so how, they contribute to constructing the divine figure of Kubaba.

# 2 Epithets

First of all, it should be noted that the way of writing the name of the goddess in hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions changes considerably depending on the texts and

See Oreshko 2021. In the same article, Oreshko discusses the existence of a goddess whose name begins with the syllable ku-, attested in the western Anatolian inscription KARAKUYU/KARABEL, which is datable to between 1250 and 1150. In this inscription, the deity bears the title of MAGNUS. DOMINA (the title is discussed at the end of section 2 of this chapter). According to Oreshko, the name of this female deity might be Kubanda-, and it could represent a direct linguistic predecessor of Lydian Kufaws (140). On Kubanda‑ (Kubanta‑) see also Oreshko 2013, 410–413; Garcia Trabazo 2017, 208–211; Garcia Trabazo 2019, 284–287.

Osborne 2021.

ranges from complete writing to abbreviated forms. A list of attestations of the goddess' name accompanied by an epithet is presented below.

#### 2.1 Karkemish

KARKAMIŠ A23. Portal orthostat, from the area of the Great Staircase. Dated approximately to the 10th century BCE. The author of the inscription is king Katuwas, who claims the re-construction of a temple for Kubaba.

§3 [. . .m]i[-i-sa]-✶ a DOMINUS-na-ni-sá (DEUS)ku+AVIS-pa-sa kar-ka-mi-si-zasa(URBS) MAGNUS.DOMINA-sa5+ra/i-sa "MANUS"-ti |PUGNUS-ta [me] my master4 Kubaba, Queen of Karkemish, raised by the hand §10 wa/i-tà-✶ a (DEUS)ku+AVIS-pa-na |kar-ka||-mi-si-za-na(URBS) MAGNUS. DOMINA-sa5+ra/i-na |POST-ni |SOLIUM-nu-wa/i-ha I re-established Kubaba, Queen of Karkemish

KARKAMIŠ A20a. Fragment, probably the pair with KARKAMIŠ A23.

A20a1 §2 "PODIUM"-ma-tà-si-na (DEUS)ku-AVIS[. . . Kubaba of the Podium<sup>5</sup>

KARKAMIŠ A25a. Fragmentary text, presumably from the Lower Palace area, attributed to king Katuwas.

§6: (DEUS)ku+AVIS-pa-ha kar-ka-mi-si-i-za(URBS) (MAGNUS.DOMINA)ha-su-sa5+ ra/i-˹i ? ˺ Kubaba, Queen of Karkemish

KARKAMIŠ A31. Basalt stele,6 found on the hill slope of the Karkemish citadel, datable to the middle of the 8th century BCE approximately. The back of the stele bears an inscription by Kamanis. The upper part of the stele, previously missing, was recently found in Afşin and brought to the Kahramanmaraş Museum.

Translation according to eDiAna (http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de), seen 2022.12.08.

"Of the precinct": eDiAna (http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de), seen 2022.12.08.

See the section 4.1 devoted to the iconography, no. 3.


KARKAMIŠ A18e. Fragment of a monument of uncertain form, apparently a dedication to Kubaba; unclear provenance. Datable on the basis of epigraphic criteria to the reign of Kamanis or later.

§6: |á-mi-sa DOMINUS-ni-sa (DEUS)ku-AVIS-pa-sá my master8 Kubaba

The POTOROO inscription<sup>9</sup> consists of eight small plaster plaques, which form the eight faces of an octagonal prism. They bear the inscription on one side. There is no information on its provenance, probably Karkemish or Kummuh. The inscription is approximately datable to the late 9th century BCE. The votive text is a dedication to Kubaba "of the Lawsuit", an epithet not otherwise attested for this deity. Moreover, here the name of the goddess is unexpectedly written (DEUS)AVIS, whereas usually in inscriptions from Karkemish it is written (DEUS)ku+AVIS.10

2a ⸢za-a⸣-sa |LIS-i-sa (DEUS)AVIS [. . . this Kubaba of the Lawsuit [. . . 6b za-a-sa |LIS-si (DEUS)AVIS this Kubaba of the Lawsuit

#### 2.2 Kummuh

BOYBEYPINARI 1 and 2. The inscriptions BOYBEYPINARI 1 and 2 encircle two pairs of blocks, each pair originally forming a double podium. BOYBEYPINARI 1 represents the dedication of a throne and a table to the goddess Kubaba by Panamuwatis, wife of Suppiluliumas. BOYBEYPINARI 2 concerns the dedication of a statue of Kubaba by Panamuwatis and also the dedication of a throne and a table by her father, Azamis.

kistar(a/i)-: "(a religious installation)": eDiAna (http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de), seen 2022.12.08.

Translation according to eDiAna (http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de), seen 2022.12.08.

Edition Hawkins 2010.

This leads Hawkins to suggest Commagene (Kummuh) as another possible area of provenance for the inscription: Hawkins 2010, 187.

The texts date back to Suppiluliumas' reign: he is probably to be identified as Ušpilulume king of Kummuh attested in Assyrian sources for the years 805 and 773 BCE.


ANCOZ 1. Two fragments of a basalt basin. It is probably contemporary to the Boybeypınarı blocks.

§2 (FEMINA)á-lá/í (DEUS)ku+AVIS-pa-pa[. . .] Lady (Queen) Kubaba

ANCOZ 5.11 Damaged block, probably datable to the reign of Suppiluliumas.

§1 (FEMINA)á-lá/í-sa (DEUS)AVIS-sa Lady (Queen) Kubaba

ANCOZ 7. Block, completely surrounded by a one-line inscription. Datable to the reign of Suppiluliumas.

§4 á-lá/í (DEUS)AVIS Lady (Queen) Kubaba §9 á-lá/í (DEUS)AVIS Lady (Queen) Kubaba

KÂHTA 112 is a fragment found in 2011, most likely originating from Ancoz.

§1 ⸢á⸣-lá/í ([D]EUS.AVIS)ku-pa-pa<sup>13</sup> Lady (Queen) Kubaba

Edition Poetto 2010.

Edition Simon 2014.

As noted by Simon, since (DEUS)AVIS+ku-pa-pa is not attested elsewhere, it seems more appropriate to transliterate this writing form as (DEUS.AVIS)ku-pa-pa: Simon 2014, 248.

#### 2.3 Tabal

SULTANHAN is a long inscription which runs over the four sides and top of a large stele, placed on an inscribed rectangular base. The text is a dedication to Tarhunzas of the Vineyard by Sarwatiwaras, vassal of Wasusarmas. Since Wasusarmas is to be identified with Wassurme found in Assyrian sources, the inscription can be dated to 740–730 BCE approximately.

§32 |ka+ra/i-mi-si-za-sa |(DEUS)ku-AVIS-pa-pa-sa Kubaba of Karkemish

#### 2.4 Aramaean Bahadirli Inscription

An interesting occurrence is also found in the Aramaean inscription of Bahadırlı (KAI<sup>5</sup> 278), even if it is datable to the 5th/4th centuries BCE. "This is the boundary/territory<sup>14</sup> of krbyl and kršy, the city (cities?) which belongs (belong?) to Kubaba<sup>15</sup> of pwšd/r, which is in Kastabalay. Whoever surrounds this boundary/territory in front of Kubaba of pwšd/r, or (any) other(?) man . . .". The localisation of Kastabalay (Καστάβαλα in classical sources) is certain: the city sat near Bahadırlı, six kilometres south of Karatepe, in Cilicia.

The discussion surrounding this inscription primarily involves the identification of the toponyms, which are mentioned therein. As for krbyl and kršy, they have yet to be identified with any certainty. The city of kršy is likely to be identified with Kiršu, royal city of the kingdom of Pirindu. The city has been identified with the site of Meydancikkale.16

As for pwšd/r, according to Casabonne,<sup>17</sup> one might suppose that the engraver made a mistake in writing pwšd/r instead of pwrš. The latter form would match the epithet found in a passage by Strabo<sup>18</sup> referring to the existence, in Castabala, of a temple of the goddess "Artemis Perasia".

According to the Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions, the translation "Territory" seems more appropriated in this context: see Hoftijzer/Jongeling 1995, s.v. tḥm.

The name of the goddess presents, in this case, the female suffix ‑h.

Davesne et al. 1987; Casabonne 2005, 70; Forlanini 2017, 244–245, n. 69.

Casabonne 2015, 174. The suggestion proposed by the author is not widely accepted. In fact, Casabonne also mentions a different interpretation, offered by Lebrun, according to which "Perasia" would derive from Hittite/Luwian parašši‑ "reliance?", which characterises the goddess Ishtar/ Shaushka "of the Promise", later assimilated to Kubaba (Lebrun 1989, 87–88). Str. 12.537.

One may also wonder if there might be a connection with any Hellinised forms of the name of the ancient Anatolian city of Pirwaššuwa.19 According to Forlanini,20 Pirwassuwa may be connected to the land of Washaniya, which lay west of Kültepe. This localisation does not fit with the localisation of Castabala. Unfortunately, the obscurity regarding the toponyms referred to in the text and the uncertainty surrounding its chronological attribution makes it impossible to speculate any further.

#### 2.5 Uncertain Provenance

GELB orthostat §4 . . .]-sa(URBS) (DEUS)ku-AVIS-sa Kubaba of Karkemish21

#### 2.6 Seals

The PORADA seal is a cylinder seal bearing a 3-word hieroglyphic inscription and 3 figures: a snake with the head of a stag, a human figure wearing Assyrian dress and holding a staff surmounted by a crescent.<sup>22</sup> The name of the goddess follows that of the Storm-God Tarhunzas.<sup>23</sup>

> (DEUS)ku+AVIS na-wa/i+ra/i-li-sa foreign Kubaba

Dupont-Sommer/Robert 1964, 14.

Forlanini 2009, 56–57.

The epithet is partially restored, but the restoration can be considered established.

For a detailed description, see Kubala 2015, 32.

Given the scarcity of details on the provenance of this seal, interpreting the epithet attributed here to Kubaba is quite impossible. The seal seems to be datable to the late 8th, even early part of the 7th century BCE. The translation of the adjective as "foreign" is offered by Hawkins in comparison with Cuneiform Luwian niwaralli-, "not-own, alien, hostile", < Cuneiform Luwian-Hieroglyphic Luwian waral(/)i-, "own, proper" (Hawkins 2000, 577). See also Bauer/Rieken 2022, s.v. /niwaralla/i-/. It is interesting that the meaning of this epithet, if the proposed translation is correct, seems to be exactly the opposite of the attribute of Kubaba found in Hdt., 5.102 (a passage devoted to the fire of Sardis and the temple of Kubaba), in which the goddess is referred to as ἐπιχωρίης θεοῦ Κυβήβης "local goddess Kubaba" (see Posani 2014, 558). On this passage as referring to a Lydian deity which does not represent a borrowed cult of Kubaba in Lydia, see Oreshko 2021.

#### 2.7 Other Epithets Associated with Kubaba

KARKAMIŠ A5a is a funerary inscription, apparently by a private person, incised on a tomb-stone in the shape of an altar from the Kubaba Temple in Karkemish. At §9, the Divine Lady of the Earth is mentioned together with the Sun-God. The title has been interpreted as an epithet of Kubaba.<sup>24</sup>


The reference to the Earth obviously implies a chthonic characterisation<sup>25</sup> of the goddess, which to my knowledge has scarcely been explored so far.

Moreover, Giusfredi<sup>26</sup> examines the title MAGNUS.DOMINA (hassusara/i-),<sup>27</sup> attested three times in the MEHARDE inscription, and MAGNUS.FEMINA, attested in KIRÇOGLU in reference to the goddess Kubaba.

The MEHARDE inscription is a dedication of the stele to the Divine Queen of the Land by Taita (II?), king of Walistin/Palistin during the 10th (or first part of 9th) century BCE.


The KIRÇOGLU inscription is a dedication of the statue (now largely destroyed) to the Divine Queen of the Land, attributed to the second half of the 8th century BCE. It comes from the Amuq plain, namely from the same territory over which king Taita (II) reigned in the 10th century BCE.

Giusfredi 2010, 115; Collins 2004, 89 n. 17; Hawkins 1981a, 147 n. 3. The logogram TERRA (L.201) expresses the word /taskwar(i)-/, "land" (eDiAna, http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de, seen 2022.12.08), also in its specific connotation as "earth, ground" (see Hawkins 2000, 184 §9, 635). In several attestations, the word is paired with /tippas-/ "sky". This element contributes, in my opinion, to supporting an interpretation of the title TERRA.DEUS.DOMINA as referring to a chthonic goddess. See recently Lovejoy/ Matessi 2023, 119 on this topic.

For a recent overview of the use of Ugaritic ʾarṣ, Akkadian irsit and Hebrew ʾrṣ meaning "netherworld", see Garbati 2022, 130–131.

Giusfredi 2008, 181–182.

hassusar(i)-: eDiAna (http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de), seen 2022.12.08.

§2 (DEUS)REGIO-ni-sa-na MAGNUS.FEMINA-sa5+ra/i-i the divine Queen of the Land

During the Bronze age, Hittite human queens were referred to as MUNUS.LUGAL (besides tawananna). Already in the Hittite Empire period, however, the title MUNUS.LUGAL was also attributed to different city-goddesses.28 In all likelihood, the double Sumerogram MUNUS.LUGAL expressed the Anatolian word ✶ ḫaššušara-, "queen". <sup>29</sup> From the 14th century BCE circa, the name of kings and queens, accompanied by their titles, started to be attested on royal seals written digraphically, in hieroglyphic script in the central field and in cuneiform script in the external ring(s).30 On these seals, the title MAGNUS.DOMINA is the hieroglyphic Luwian translation of cuneiform MUNUS.LUGAL GAL. Because of this correspondence, the hieroglyphic form MAGNUS.DOMINA has been interpreted and translated as "Great Queen" by some scholars.31 A reading ✶ šalli‑ ✶ ḫaššušara‑ "Great Queen" for the title MUNUS.LUGAL GAL is however not certain, because attestations with phonetic complements have not yet been found.32 In this contribution, I adopt the traditional translation of the title MAGNUS.DOMINA as "Queen", mostly because its attested phonetic complementation offers the reading hassusara/i-. This word in all likelihood consists of ḫaššu-, "king" (Sumerian LUGAL), and the suffix ‑sara, which forms the morphological female construction both in Hittite and in Luwian.33

Hutter-Braunsar<sup>34</sup> speculates about the possibility that the attribution of this title to Kubaba is connected with the role of Karkemish as the political heritage of Hatti after the collapse of the Hittite Empire.35

### 3 Observations on Kubaba's Epithets

As we have seen, the majority of attestations of epithets of Kubaba come from Karkemish and Kummuh. Among all the above-mentioned attestations, the written form of the goddess' name changes considerably.

On the other hand, something constantly present in the writing of the divine name is the logogram AVIS (L.128). The question of the interpretation of AVIS as an ideographic element characterising Kubaba will be discussed in the Iconography section of this article.

See, for instance, Oreshko 2013, 381.

Haas 1994, 921 s.v. Ḫaššušara.

Kloekhorst 2008 s.v. ḫaššu‑ "king"; HW<sup>2</sup> III Lieferung 17 s.v. ✶ ḫaššušara-.

Herbordt et al. 2011.

HW<sup>2</sup> III Lieferung 17 s.v. ✶ ḫaššušara-, 7. ḫaššušara-/MUNUS.LUGAL mit näherer Bestimmung.

Giusfredi 2008, 178.

Hutter-Braunsar 2015, 212.

On this topic, with reference to the role of the goddess Kubaba, see also Posani 2014.

Focusing on the epithets,36 Kubaba – as is well known – is repeatedly qualified as MAGNUS.DOMINA (hassusara/i-) "Queen". <sup>37</sup> This epithet is not attributed to goddesses other than Kubaba in hieroglyphic Luwian sources. Most of all, Kubaba is referred to as "Queen of Karkemish", a connotation which establishes a strong connection between the goddess and the kingship over the important city on the Euphrates. This aspect is highlighted not only in the inscriptions from Karkemish, but also in the occurrence from Tabal and in the GELB orthostat (even if this last occurrence is restored).

The title /nann(i)-/<sup>38</sup> "master" is attested twice: in KARKAMIŠ A23 §3 and in the fragmentary inscription KARKAMIŠ A18e. In the first case, this epithet precedes and reinforces the more common title MAGNUS.DOMINA (hassusara/i-). The title nann(i)‑ as a divine epithet is not exclusively attributed to Kubaba. In fact, it occurs in association with different deities and groups of gods.

In the Kummuh area, the epithet ala<sup>39</sup> is omnipresent. According to Simon, the epithet that appears in the KÂHTA inscription might be connected with the Hurrian word alla‑ "Lady". <sup>40</sup> Hutter<sup>41</sup> has provided compelling evidence to confirm that ala/i or (FEMINA)ala/i are epithets of Kubaba, meaning "Lady" / "Queen". <sup>42</sup> Furthermore, the scholar argues that this form is a Hurrian epithet, frequently attested in the sources from the Empire period in association with the goddesses Shaushka, Ḫebat and also once with Piringir. According to Hutter, the epithet attested in the Kummuh area is a Hurrian loanword that is a good match with the title MAGNUS.DOMINA (hassusara/i-) characterising the goddess at Karkemish.43


For an analysis of the epithets of gods in Luwian hieroglyphic inscriptions, see Hutter-Braunsar 2015. Hutter-Braunsar, following Hübner 2003, 183, analyses the epithets of gods by distinguishing them by category: geographic epithets, epithets expressing power, epithets indicating the functional area or the essence or a quality of the deity, names in genitive case.

For an in-depth discussion on the notion of divine sovereignty and its problematic nature, see Lebreton/Marano this volume.

See Payne/Bauer 2022, s.v. /nann(i)-/.

The word was previously read as ata of uncertain meaning. Rieken and Yakubovich have proposed a new reading of the two signs L.319 and L.172 (ta<sup>4</sup> and ta5) as la/i and lá/í, thus providing evidence for a reading of the present word as á-lá/í: Rieken/Yakubovich 2010, 203–204.

Hutter 2016 conclusively discards the uncertain hypothesis of a syncretism between ala/i‑ and the Anatolian goddess Ala.

This title also matches with the title attested in the Bronze Age decree written in Akkadian (RŠ 17.146: PRU IV, 154–157) between the king of Karkemish Ini-Teshub (1270-1220 BCE ca.) and the king of Ugarit. The document is aimed at regulating the relationships between the two cities in case merchants in the service of the king of one city are killed when they are in the other city. Kubaba is invoked in the final section as a witness deity together with Adad of the Sky, Shamash of the Sky and two local goddesses. In this context, the goddess is referred to as ⸢ d ⸣bêltu Ku-ba-ba bêlet māt.al.kar-gamiš "Lady Kubaba, lady of the Land of Karkemish" (RŠ 17.146, verso 50: PRU IV, 157). See also Hawkins 1981b, 258.

Other epithets occur infrequently in some inscriptions from Karkemish: "of the Podium" (KARKAMIŠ A20a1), "of the Lawsuit" (POTOROO), "of 100 Temples" (KARKAMIŠ A31). The epithet "of the Podium" obviously refers to a sculpture, but the inscription is fragmentary and nothing more can be said about this title. "Of the Lawsuit" appears to be an interesting attribute inasmuch as it might be connected with the frequent curse formula involving different deities prosecuting the evildoer.44 The same epithet occurs in association with the Sun-God in MARAŞ 1 §6 (restored occurrence).

The epithet "of 100 Temples" is hyperbolic and occurs in the anathemas section of the inscription KARKAMIŠ A31. In this text, Kubaba is the only deity invoked as prosecutor against the evildoer. One may wonder if the emphatic epithet may testify to a broad diffusion of religious installations of Kubaba. Only new archaeological discoveries could offer suitable data in this regard. Nevertheless, epithets such as "Karkemishaean" or "of pwsd/r" can be interpreted as evidence for the existence of different local cults of the goddess.

The epithet found on the PORADA seal is worth analysing. The goddess is qualified here as "foreign". Highlighting the foreignness of a deity with respect to the context in which the artefact is created is quite unusual. If this epithet is to be considered with hostile connotations, the seal could rather have the function of an amulet<sup>45</sup> guarding against potential terrifying or angry aspects of the goddess.46

If, on the other hand, the "foreign" title refers to a goddess who is not local, one may suppose that the seal comes from an area where Kubaba was not a main deity. At present, it is impossible to verify this hypothesis.

There is a whole series of seals conventionally referred to as "Kubaba seals", but unfortunately not one of them, except the PORADA seal, bears the epithets of the goddess.

### 4 Iconography of Kubaba

#### 4.1 Iconographic Representations of the Goddess

A list of representations which can most likely be considered images of the goddess Kubaba is presented below.

A similar concept was already found in documents dating back to the 2nd millennium BCE, from Anatolia and many other areas of the Ancient Near East: see Hawkins 2000, 418 M, §6//S, §7. In Posani 2021, I suggested a possible connection between the curse formulas involving deities, which prosecute the evildoer, and the existence of priests who can speak in a court on behalf of the deities. On this latter subject, see Sasseville 2018.

See Mora 1990, 451; Kubala 2015, 11.

Cf. the terrible aspect of Kubaba which, according to Oreshko, would be attested in BOYBEYPINARI 2 §20: Oreshko 2020, 363–364.

1) Fragmentary orthostat from the divine procession.<sup>47</sup> Long Wall of Sculptures. Karkemish. Suhis's II reign (10th century BCE).

The goddess holds a pomegranate in her right hand and wears headgear in the shape of a low cylinder adorned with rosettes and a horn from which a veil descends.48 Her hair is in a pigtail.

2) Processional Entry, corner block. Karkemish. Katuwas's reign (late 10th century BCE). The goddess is shown in profile, sitting on a throne, resting on the back of a lion (Fig. 1). She holds a mirror in her right hand and a pomegranate in her left, a high polos crowns her head from which an Anatolian-type veil/cloak descends.

Fig. 1: Kubaba (Tayfun Bilgin, www.hittitemonuments.com, v. 1.75).

3) Stele. Karkemish. Around the middle of the 8th century BCE.

Orthmann 1971, tafel 23 b Karkemis C/3.

According to Brandl the goddess was represented seated: Brandl 2016, 55–56.

Black basalt stele, found on the hill slope of the Karkemish citadel. On the front, it features a high-relief statue of Kubaba, in a long pleated dress, wearing an elaborate necklace and breastplate. Her arms are bent at the chest and she may be holding a mirror in her left hand. At the base, there is a guilloche band. The figure is framed by a decorative border, not perfectly preserved. The head of the goddess, previously missing, was recently found in Afşin.49 The goddess, who is depicted facing forwards, wears a crenelated crown over a band with rosettes. Two locks of hair fall on either side of her face.

4) Malatya stele. Late 10th century BCE.

Kubaba is shown in profile, resting on a throne on the back of a bull (Fig. 2).50 In her right hand, she holds a mirror. From its polos decorated with scales, a veil descends

Fig. 2: Stele of Kubaba and Karhuhas (Tayfun Bilgin, www.hittitemonuments.com, v. 1.75).

Marchetti/Peker 2018.

Taracha suggests that the "switch" in animals evident in this relief (where Kubaba is seated on a bull and Karhuhas on a lion) depends not on the relationship of the animals with the deities, but rather with the winged sun-disk above them (Taracha 1987, 270). Collins suggests that the god-animal association was city-specific rather than deity-specific (Collins 2004, 90).

downwards. Her hair is in a pigtail. In front of the goddess, a Stag-God standing on a lion is depicted, carrying in his right hand a spear and in his left hand a 3-pronged object. Above both is a winged sun.

5) Orthostat from the divine procession.51 Outer Gate to the Citadel. Zincirli. Late 10th or early 9th century BCE.

The goddess is represented facing left. She holds a mirror in her left hand and wears a headdress adorned with rosettes and a horn, from which a zigzagged and decorated veil descends. Her hair is in a pigtail.52

6) Ördekburnu stele.53 Datable to around the late 9th or early 8th century BCE. The goddess is represented seated, with flat-topped headgear (Fig. 3). A veil and a pigtail can be seen. The object in her right hand can be identified as a mirror.

7) Örtülü stele. 9th–8th century BCE.

The iconography (Fig. 4) is similar to that of Ördekburnu.

8) Zincirli B/3 orthostat54 from the Outer Citadel Gate. Early 9th century BCE. The iconography is similar to that of Ördekburnu.

Orthmann 1971, tafel 58 e Zincirli B/13b.

Brandl's suggestion to recognise an image of Kubaba in the second goddess represented in the procession of deities from Zincirli is consistent with his observations on the similarities between the divine procession of Zincirli and Karkemish. At the same time, however, I find it difficult not to consider the present depiction as a representation of a standing Kubaba, given the number of attributes which characterise her. As for the second deity, she is depicted sitting and wearing a polos and a long veil. Her hair is in a pigtail. She might be holding a mirror in her left hand (Brandl 2016, 54–55). According to Lovejoy/ Matessi the goddess Kubaba is depicted twice in this sequence of orthostats (Lovejoy/Matessi 2023, 117). On Ördekburnu stele, Örtülü stele and Zincirli B/3 orthostat I agree with Brandl's suggestion that they may represent the image of "Kubaba of Aram" (Brandl 2016). Thus, I include these figures among Kubaba's representations. Nevertheless, K. Lawson Younger has efficiently casted doubt on Brandl's attempt to identify these figures as representations of Kubaba (Younger 2020, 5). Consequently, the identification under discussion cannot be considered established with certainty yet. On the mention of Kubaba (without epithets) in the inscription on the Kutamuwa stele found in 2008 in the lower town of Sam'al, the capital city of the Aramaean kingdom of Yaudi, see Niehr this volume, with further bibliography. Concerning the writing of the name of the goddess in the Kutamuwa inscription, according to Pardee the final ‑w is quite unexplainable (Pardee 2009, 62). According to Masson Kubaba "conserve ici, comme ailleurs, son nom authentique (kbbw/kbb-w) : à défaut sans doute d'un équivalent satisfaisant dans le panthéon sémitique pour sa personnalité complexe" (Masson 2010, 53). Orthmann 1971, tafel 57 c Zincirli B/3.

Fig. 3: Ördekburnu stele (Tayfun Bilgin, www.hittitemonuments.com, v. 1.75).

Fig. 4: Örtülü stele (Tayfun Bilgin, www.hittitemonuments.com, v. 1.75).

9) Bireçik orthostat.55 10th or 9th century BCE.

The goddess, who wears neither cloak nor veil, is represented facing right. She holds a mirror in her right hand and a pomegranate in her left hand and wears a high polos, which has one horn on the front and one on the back. A winged sun-disk shines above her head. Her hair is in a pigtail.

Representations dubiously associated to Kubaba:56

1) Bas-relief from Karkemish.57 Probably 8th century BCE.

The goddess depicted on this extremely damaged relief could be Kubaba. In fact, the headdress, the hairstyle and the seated position in profile are similar to the image of the goddess represented on the orthostat of the procession of deities from the Long Wall of Sculptures.

2) Stele from Domuztepe (Çambel/Özyar 2003, Tafel 228). Probably 9th century BCE. The goddess wears a long robe and veil. Above her a winged sun disc is depicted. She holds a mirror in her left hand.

3) Gold cup from Ḥasanlū, <sup>58</sup> datable to the turn of the 1st millennium BCE. It appears to have been imported from Syria. Behind the group of three daggers, a female image is represented, slumped on a lion, holding in her left hand a mirror and in the right, perhaps, a spindle: this figure has been identified as Kubaba.

#### 4.2 Iconographic Attributes of Kubaba

#### 4.2.1 Mirror

Bonatz 2000 (p. 82) offers a list of 12 Syro-Anatolian funerary monuments which feature a mirror, both in the hand of a female figure or as a free-standing object. The interpre-

Orthmann 1971, tafel 5 c Birecik 1.

About the female figure represented on the Meharde stele, it does not seem to be a portrayal of the goddess Kubaba. As discussed above, the epithet "Divine Queen of the Land" found in the text might refer to the goddess Kubaba, but the iconography of the figure, with hair dressed in Hathor volute, does not seem to offer sufficient clues to interpret the figure as a portrayal of Kubaba. It is noteworthy, however, that the figure is standing on a lion. The statue bearing the KIRÇOGLU inscription is unfortunately very fragmentary. The figure wears a long-belted skirt, with four pleats at the back. Reference is made in the text to "1000 parnasa", which recalls the epithet "of 100 Temples" found in KARKAMIŠ A31. This is, in any case, not enough to establish a connection between the two monuments. Similarly, I agree with Lanaro in considering the identification of the deity represented on the stele of Tavşantepe (TAV-ŞANTEPE 1) as Kubaba inconclusive (see Lanaro 2015). The seated female figure portrayed on the relief Ancuzköy 1 is too fragmentary to be interpreted as a depiction of Kubaba.

Bossert 1942, 74, 220 fig. 868.

Haas 1994, 527–528 and fig. 101.

tation of the symbolic value of the mirror is a very complex issue. Bonatz59 offers some suggestions ranging from the field of beauty to that of the funerary practices to the exchange of prestige objects between Late Bronze Age kings and many others. In regard to the mirror as an attribute of Kubaba, I think that the interpretation of it being a symbol of beauty is to be discarded, notably because the goddess does not look at herself in the mirror but rather exhibits it. In my opinion, the funerary field might be a reasonable starting point for understanding the meaning of this enigmatic attribute of Kubaba within the framework of Syro-Anatolian Iron Age culture.

In this context, the mirror could have played a mediation role for connecting the world of the living with the world of the dead. Kubaba definitely had some chthonic characteristics as testified by the epithet TERRA.DEUS.DOMINA which features in the inscription KARKAMIŠ A5a, which has been interpreted as referring to the goddess. Moreover, Bonatz mentions a possible magic connection between the mirror and the soul, but unfortunately the scarcity of Syro-Anatolian sources prevents us from analysing this aspect in any depth. Conversely, the concepts of resemblance and similarity, mentioned by Bonatz as well, are in my opinion particularly suitable for analysing the mirror as an attribute of Kubaba. Bonatz examines the Akkadian words meaning "mirror", namely nāmaru and mašālum, which derive from amāru "to see" and mašālu "be the same, be equal". The Hittite and Luwian words for "mirror" are not known, but the concepts of "seeing" and "resembling" definitely arise as focal points in these cultures. The act of seeing is very well attested, also in its metaphoric value, and it strongly connotes the representation of the relationship between the king and the god.60 Moreover, the eye itself may be considered the closest thing to a mirror that exists. The idea of "resembling" is less directly attested, but belongs to the Syro-Anatolian cultural context and features both in the iconography and in the texts. Hittite kings of the late Bronze Age, in fact, used to be portrayed with the features of their protective deity.61 Furthermore, even the reference to the parent-child relationship (which is also substantiated by similarity) is very present in the imagery and is used, once again, to represent the king-god relationship. I feel that this is the framework within which the symbolic value of Kubaba's mirror is to be explored. The mirror can be interpreted as a means to connect the human world with a world "beyond", that can be represented not only by the world of the dead,62 but also by the world of the gods.63 Since the mirror creates duplicative relationships, it would

Bonatz 2000, 82–85.

See, for instance, the Hittite formulas according to which the gods look at the king, the queen and the land with benevolent eyes: see CHD s.v. šakui‑ 1d5ʹ a';1d5ʹ e. 2ʹ aššu-.

De Martino 2010, 88–91.

For a discussion on classic literary passages connected with death lurking behind the mirror, see Frontisi-Ducroux/Vernant 1998, 147–153.

In this area, the mirror also plays its role of mediation and meeting. Pausanias (8.37.7) narrates that in Lycosura, in Arcadia, in the temple of Despoina – which is famous, Pausanias refers, for its group of seated statues, which depicts the Despoina, in the company of Demeter (her mother) – "The Arcadians bring into the sanctuary the fruit of all cultivated trees except the pomegranate. On the

therefore have the purpose of reverberating the characteristics of the "queen" goddess on her earthly "substitute", the king, who must exactly replicate the divine model. This concept of kingship, according to which the king is ultimately an earthly substitute for the deity, is broadly found within ancient Near Eastern cultures64 (with the exception of Egypt) and implies that the king is the only representative of the deity on Earth.

Even textual images that connect a parental role to Kubaba can, in my opinion, be read in the same direction, considering the similarity-duplication link that children have with respect to their parents. In this regard, the following passage is worth mentioning: KARKAMIŠ A23 §3 "[me] my master Kubaba, Queen of Karkemish, raised by the hand". This parental image clarifies that Kubaba acted as a guarantee of royal legitimacy. The following passages of the KARKAMIŠ A21 inscription are also worth mentioning: §10 "and she became (a) father to me", §12 "and she watched over me like a child, adult . . .". Even the embrace images found in the inscription KARKAMIŠ A21 aim, in my opinion, to provide a specific idea of kingship, according to which the king must act towards his subjects as the deity acts towards him, namely, he must act like "a mirror" of the goddess.65

Furthermore, I feel that such a concept of kingship, expressed by the attribute of the mirror, fits well with the epithet of Kubaba as "queen". In this regard, we find a clue in a depiction of the Neo-Assyrian queen Naqia, who is represented bringing a palm blossom to her nose. This gesture appears only in portrayals of kings.66 This feature is therefore aimed to emphasise her exceptional status at court. Since she was a wife, mother and grandmother of three kings and had a huge influence in court, she could boast a royal attribute, such as the mirror that she holds in her left hand. The fact that a Neo-Assyrian queen is portrayed with the mirror of Kubaba confirms, in my opinion, that this attribute must be interpreted in the field of the symbology of kingship.

#### 4.2.2 Pomegranate

Another iconographic attribute of the goddess is the pomegranate. J. Börker-Klähn<sup>67</sup> argues that in the Near East, as in the classical world, the pomegranate is to be interpreted as a symbol of life and fertility. The only divinity of Asia Minor that it is possi-

derworld: in the Mesopotamian world, the king essentially qualifies as the body of the goddess. Posani 2020; Posani 2021, 76–84.

right as you go out of the temple there is a mirror fitted into the wall. If anyone looks into this mirror, he will see himself very dimly indeed or not at all, but the actual images of the gods and the throne can be seen quite clearly" (translation by Jones 1935). The effect had to be that of causing a sort of epiphany and the use of the adverb ἐναργῶς, "in all clarity", is eloquent in this sense: the adjective ἐναργής in Homer denotes a divine apparition and qualifies the luminous splendor that envelops the deities when they manifest themselves to men, which in Mesopotamian culture is called melammu. Consider, for instance, the substitute role of Tammuz in the myth of Ishtar's Descent into the Un-

Bonatz 2000, 192 n. 72.

Börker-Klähn 1971.

ble to connect with the pomegranate is Kubaba. The goddesses Juno Sancta and Juno Assyria Regina Dolichena represented a heritage, up to the Roman age, of the iconography of Kubaba in Asia Minor.

In Muthmann's monograph68 on the symbolic meaning of the pomegranate in the ancient world, the fruit is mainly interpreted as a symbol of life in the artistic production of many Mediterranean cultures. According to Muthmann, it manifests its vital power right from its earliest appearance, which was on a vase from Uruk perhaps dating from the 4th millennium BCE. The vase depicts the tree of life producing pomegranate fruit.

The symbolism of the tree of life is extremely complex and runs through the entire history of the ancient Near East. In the Assyria of the second millennium, it would mainly represent the summa, the totality of divine powers. Furthermore, the pomegranate is loaded with symbolic value due to it being simultaneously one and many.

Even the king, especially when considered an earthly representative of the deity, is a sort of "one-all". In fact, being the main representative of the priests, the army and the administration, he combines many functions. Then, the pomegranate might rightly be an attribute characteristic of the deity who protects and guarantees the king, namely the one who sublimates and combines all functions in himself.<sup>69</sup>

#### 4.2.3 Headgear

Kubaba's headdress is also worth a brief discussion. In the Hittite world, deities were identified by pointed headdresses, equipped with horns and, sometimes, with semi-ellipses, the number of which was proportional to the hierarchy of importance of the gods represented. Kubaba never wears a pointed cap: instead, she wears a Syrian-style headdress, in the shape of a truncated cone or a low cylinder. It resembles a crown and can have horizontal and vertical subdivisions. Decorative motifs are represented in the sections created.

Thus, the shape of the headdress confirms the Syrian origin of the goddess. Moreover, this kind of polos seems to be an attribute qualifying poliad deities. As the protective goddess of Karkemish, Kubaba might well be expected to wear such an attribute.

#### 4.2.4 Lion

The value of the lion as a symbol of kingship is widely diffused. Given that the lion is found in association with a number of different deities, both male and female, I as-

Muthmann 1982.

In an interesting document from the Neo-Assyrian age, the prophecy of Mullissu-katbat for Ashurbanipal, the goddess Mullissu / Ishtar of Arbela says: "I will put you between my breasts like a pomegranate" (Parpola 1997, 39, r. 8). In Parpola's opinion the text might refer to a pomegranate-shaped pendant that adorned the goddess' neck.

sume that it is not a symbol specific to Kubaba. As argued by Collins, rather than defining Kubaba's nature, the lion might be interpreted as a symbol of the city of Karkemish and its king. As city-goddess of Karkemish, Kubaba might be expected to be depicted with the lion.<sup>70</sup>

#### 4.2.5 Bird

Finally, one has to consider the presence of the sign AVIS within the name of the goddess. A. Payne has recently devoted a study to this specific topic.71 AVIS can either follow the syllabogram ku – without syllabic value – or completely replace the name of the goddess, expressly acting as a logogram representing Kubaba.72 The logogram AVIS (L.128) had different syllabic readings.<sup>73</sup> Goedegebuure (2019) has proposed the new value wa<sup>x</sup> for the sign AVIS, which should be acrophonically derived from the word wattai-, "bird" (Sumerian MUŠEN). Goedegebuure offers many clues to this reading.74 Interpreting a bird as an animal representation of Kubaba matches some curse formulas in which the goddess is invoked to "harass" somebody or to "eat up his eyes and feet", <sup>75</sup> especially if one specifically identifies the bird as a bird of prey. The nature of the bird representing Kubaba is not actually clear. The bird depicted in the GULBEN-KIAN seal has been interpreted as an eagle.76 In this seal, the name of the goddess is not accompanied by epithets, but the fact that it is written like a rebus: AVIS (DEUS)ku, is noteworthy. The eagle is also broadly linked to the imagery of kingship in the Hittite world.77 One may wonder whether the eagle-like bird representing Kubaba might be connected with the Hittite tradition, according to which the king has the eyes of an eagle and sees like an eagle.78 Obviously, it is not possible to establish this connection with any degree of certainty at the moment. The link with the bird might also involve the augurs' rituals. The technique used by the augur consisted in observing the flight of a bird79 in order to obtain an answer from the gods concerning unresolved problems. However, the written evidence does not offer any clues to help us establish this kind of connection. What one can retain is that, while the lion is an attribute of the goddess, the bird can be considered her animal representation. A. Payne proposes that the bird

On the animals' "switch" on the Malatya stele, see above.

Payne 2023.

Exceptions to these writing forms are found in the GULBENKIAN seal and KÂHTA inscription (on the latter see above).

Goedegebuure 2019; Simon 2019.

Goedegebuure 2019.

Oreshko 2021, 143.

Lambert 1979, 32 no. 106; Hawkins 2000, 580.

Collins 2004.

For a discussion, see Collins 2004, 86–88 with textual references.

Bawanypeck 2005; Hutter 2003, 258–259.

sign is to be understood as meta-writing. As such, it acts as a visual meta-discourse showing the domain of the goddess Kubaba as "Mistress of Wild Animals". <sup>80</sup> This would not be an isolated case in the Luwian culture, since the name of the god Runtiyas / Karhuhas is also expressed by a logogram depicting a stag.81 Moreover, the iconographic motif of the bird appears in many Syro-Anatolian reliefs. I wonder whether, in some cases, it might represent Kubaba. Some images are, in my opinion, worth considering.

The first is the image of a bird represented above the staff in the hands of Kamanis' younger brother (Fig. 5), depicted on the basalt slab which bears the inscription KARKAMIŠ A7c–i (end of the 9th / first half of the 8th century BCE). This inscription consists of a series of epigraphs to the images of the orthostatic cycle which accompanies the inscriptions KARKAMIŠ A6 and A7.

Fig. 5: Royal children (Tayfun Bilgin, www.hittitemonuments.com, v. 1.75).

As Gilibert82 observes, at Karkemish, a bird of prey was the animal symbol of the goddess Kubaba, and the silhouette of the bird above the young boy's staff closely reproduces the Hieroglyphic Luwian logogram used to express Kubaba's name. The scholar also notes that

Payne 2023, 249–250.

(DEUS)CERVUS(2).

Gilibert 2022, 14.

a cylinder seal83 found nearby proves the existence of a symbolic assemblage consisting of a bird perched on a staff which was probably a locally revered insignia of Kubaba. In the inscription KARKAMIŠ A6 §§20–22, in fact, Kubaba is involved in an oath formula connected to the growth of the children, brothers of Kamanis. The image described of the bird depicted above the staff could then in some way represent an epiphany of the goddess.

The second is the bird represented on the stele D/4 from Maraş, <sup>84</sup> which bears the inscription MARAŞ 9 (first or second half of the 8th century BCE). Here, a young boy held in the lap of a woman (his mother) holds a leash with a bird perched in his left hand. Below the bird, there is the image of a hinged writing-board fastened with a cord. The boy holds a stylus in his right hand. The text is an epigraph85 recording the name of the boy: Tarhupiyas.

On stele B/19 from Maraş <sup>86</sup> (second half of the 10th / beginning of the 9th century BCE), a woman holding a child is depicted. She holds a mirror in her right hand and in her left hand a lyre, upon which a bird is perched.

On stele B/12 from Maraş <sup>87</sup> (uncertain date), which represents a sitting woman with a child standing opposite her at a table, the child is holding a bird.

On the small fragment B/21 from Maraş, <sup>88</sup> a sitting woman and a child holding a bird are depicted.

These images have some common features: they are conceived as representations of children. These children are associated with a bird. Turning to textual evidence, in KARKAMIŠ A21 §11–12, Kubaba also seems to protect the king (Astirus II) throughout his entire life, right from his childhood. Thus, the goddess seems to have features that connect her with rearing royal children. The children depicted on the reliefs from Maraş perhaps do not belong to the royal family, but they certainly belong to high-ranking families.89 These reliefs may then represent young nobles who were supposed to grow up under the protection of Kubaba. In my opinion, this characterisation of Kubaba as a goddess who cares for the growth of children fits well with written evidence. Therefore, the birds represented on the Maraş reliefs can be seen as an expression of her divine figure as well. The funerary stele Maraş B/19 mentioned above is the only relief which combines the symbolic value of mirror and bird. The young figure here could seem to be interpreted as a female child, but this is not the main point. What is notable, in my opinion, is that the figurative apparatus implies an association of two main characterisations of Kubaba, namely as protective deity of children and also as chthonic goddess.

Woolley/Barnett 1952, fig. 75.

Orthmann 1971, tafel 48 d Maraş D/4.

The epigraph was probably added later: Hawkins 2000, 274.

Orthmann 1971, tafel 46 d Maraş B/19.

Orthmann 1971, tafel 45 b Maraş B/12.

Orthmann 1971, tafel 46 f Maraş B/21.

See also Gilibert 2022, 12. For a connection of the abovementioned reliefs with the practise of falconry, see Canby 2002, 176.

# 5 Conclusion

As noted above, the majority of epithets of Kubaba are attested in inscriptions from Karkemish and Kummuh. They provide evidence for establishing a characterisation of the goddess as a protective deity of Karkemish, her figure being deeply linked to the kingship of the city. Moreover, textual evidence suggests the existence of different local cults of the goddess. In the Kummuh area, she is repeatedly qualified as "Lady (Queen)". The analysis has highlighted, in addition, a chthonic characterisation of Kubaba. This element is also highlighted by the analysis of her iconographic attributes, with special reference to the mirror, considered to be a tool for connecting the human world with the world of the dead and the gods. As such, the mirror has a chthonic connotation. Moreover, with regard to this attribute, an interpretation related to the conceptual field of "resembling" has been suggested. The idea of "duplicating, being equal" is found in Neo-Hittite texts and offers a cultural background consistent with such an interpretation, which further emphasises the role of Kubaba as a goddess connected with kingship and the growth of young princes. The metaphorical world, which involves the relationship between the goddess and the king, as if related by a parental bond, might be interpreted accordingly. As for the pomegranate, a connection with the figure and the role of the king has been also suggested, while the particular shape of the headgear worn by Kubaba testifies the Syrian origin of the deity. In terms of her animal attributes, the lion does not seem to be a specific symbol of Kubaba. Conversely, particular focus has been placed on the AVIS sign, which is always present within the name of the goddess. The hypothesis that the bird could be an animal representation of Kubaba has been formulated. Accordingly, the presence of the bird motif among Neo-Hittite funerary reliefs has been explored. As a result, a link between the presence of the bird and representations involving the growth of noble children has been suggested, based particularly on the analysis of reliefs from Maraş.

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Hawkins, John David (1981a), "Kubaba at Karkamiš and Elsewhere", in: Anatolian Studies 31, 147–175.


# Gaëlle Tallet How to Create a God: The Name and Iconography of the Deified Deceased Piyris at Ayn El-Labakha (Kharga Oasis, Egypt)

Abstract: In ancient Egypt, deceased people who had attained life in the afterlife and acquired the status of "justified" were referred to as "Osiris", thus becoming a new god. Some of them were granted a more specific status as "efficacious spirits (ȝḫw) of Ra" or, from the Late Period onwards, "superiors" (ḥrỉw) or "praised" (ḥsỉw). They could be honoured as local saints, or even enjoy greater renown on a regional or national scale. This paper focuses on the destiny of a man called Piyris, who probably lived and died at the site of Ayn el-Labakha in the Kharga oasis, in the 1st century AD. His tomb was extended into a semi-rupestral sanctuary, where faithful people and pilgrims gathered to honour the god Piyris in both a human and a falcon form and sought his support and protection. But which form came first? How were these images elaborated, for what purpose and in which ritual context were they used and addressed?

# 1 Introduction

The creation of a new god poses a series of theological, ritual and iconographic problems and, in this respect, calls for different types of religious bricolage, often drawing on pre-existing material. Thus, the god Sarapis, a creation of the first Ptolemies, was often described and perceived, already in Antiquity, as the Greek iconographic dressing of a deity elaborated from an Egyptian, Memphite theological substratum.1 In the field of Christian iconography, the work of François Boespflug has also highlighted the long genesis of images of the Christian god, that were heirs to pagan iconographies and Judaic traditions, and full-fledged actors in the incarnation process of the divine: images and art provide theological abstraction with a sensitive materiality and a very particular space of freedom.<sup>2</sup>

In ancient Egypt, a deceased person who has attained life in the afterlife and acquired the status of "justified" is referred to as an "Osiris", thus becoming a new god. Within the tomb, they may be represented in different ways, depending on whether

Borgeaud/Volokhine 2000.

Boespflug 1984; Boespflug 2008.

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-017

they are still involved in their activities and status as a living being or whether they have already entered the afterlife, where they have found a specific place among the gods.3 This is also the case, in a more condensed way, in the representation of deceased people on Roman period sarcophagi, cartonnage and funerary portraits, where the two statuses of the new god, that is, the dead person, can be represented in the same image.4 Initially a privilege of the king, the integration of deceased people into the gods' sphere is thus achieved through death itself, but some of the deceased attain a more specific status: in the New Kingdom, they are designated "efficacious spirits (ȝḫw) of Ra". From the Late Period onwards, they are called "superior" (ḥry) or "praised" (ḥsy).5 Some of them were honoured as local holy figures, while others, such as Imhotep, minister of King Djoser in the Old Kingdom, Amenhotep, son of Hapu, a high official who was well-connected under Amenhotep III, or Amenhotep I and his mother, Ahmes Nefertari,6 enjoyed greater renown on a regional and national scale. These deceased people are distinguished by their individualised status as deities: they are not merely transfigured into Osiris, but become deities in their own right, under their own name, and their theology is fleshed out with a mythological narrative or a more or less important divine pedigree. Here, we will focus on the question of the naming and shaping of the divine image, given that it is quite conducive to religious bricolages, mixing the world of the living with that of the dead and the gods themselves.

A fairly large number of these individuals are known to have had a genuine divine 'career'. Their statues were often installed in transitional spaces on the periphery of temples, in courtyards or near doorways, and could act as privileged intermediaries for oracular consultations and incubation.7 These individuals were initially granted an identity – a name – and a biography. The destiny of Amenhotep, son of Hapu, is quite emblematic of this process. Born around 1450 BCE, he spent fifty years of his life at Athribis as "royal scribe and chief of the priests of Horus-Khentikheti", the local god, and was then called by King Amenhotep III to the court of Thebes, where he quickly became chief of the king's architects and the king's "minister of culture", according to Dietrich Wildung.8 A mark of his rapid and exceptional rise and distinction is the privilege he was granted to have a funerary temple built for himself, "in recognition of his perfect character", <sup>9</sup> which seems to have provided the support for his subsequent divinisation. From then on, a codified iconography of Amenhotep spreads: he appears as an old man with a large round wig and a long loincloth. His age expresses wisdom, which is his main personality trait, and the wig is elaborated in such a way that it is specific to him, to identify him. This iconographic

Riggs 2005; Smith 2017.

Rondot 2011; Tallet 2018.

von Lieven 2010; von Lieven 2004.

See Hollender 2009 with previous references.

Sauneron 1959, 40–52; Renberg 2017, 74–111, 329–519, 542–610.

Wildung 1977a.

After Varille 1968, 67–75, no. 27.

type, which supports the identification allowed by the name, seems to have originated in two statues of Amenhotep that stood at the entrance of the tenth pylon of the Temple of Amun at Karnak: close to the main entrance of the temple to the south, on an important passageway, they were the object of popular veneration as early as the Ramesside period.10 They are inscribed with autobiographical texts, in which Amenhotep recounts his career and emphasises his intelligence, moral qualities and piety. The privilege of installing his statue in the vicinity of Amun was granted by the king and this skilful courtier, who also served Amun-Ra, king of the gods at Karnak, knew how to use the position of his statue to place himself as an intermediary. He thus addressed the visitor, transposing his earthly function to that of an intermediary between the people and Amun:

O people of Karnak who desire to see Amun, come to me! I will convey your requests, for I am the herald of this god. Neb-Maat-Ra (Amenhotep III) has ordered me to report to him all that is said in this land.11

On another autobiographical statue, he continues:

You, people of Upper and Lower Egypt, whose eyes gaze upon the sun, who go up and down the Nile to Thebes to implore the lord of the gods, come to me! I pass on your words to Amun of Karnak. Give me an offering and pour a libation for me, for I am appointed by the king to hear the supplicant's requests, to report to him the desires of Egypt.<sup>12</sup>

Proof of the effectiveness of his speech is the fact that the inscriptions on the papyrus scroll he held are completely erased: the faithful touched the hieroglyphs to make contact with the "saint".

Building upon this status of intermediary between the faithful and the god, Amenhotep progressively gained that of a god in his own right and obtained the privilege of having a personal sanctuary built within the funerary temple of Queen Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahari.13

This is not an isolated case: we also know of the nome governor Heqaib who was worshipped at Elephantine,<sup>14</sup> or Isi, at Edfu,<sup>15</sup> in the Middle Kingdom, and Prince Ahmes Sapair, in the Theban region during the Ramesside period.<sup>16</sup> This is also the case of Peteisis and Pihor, two brothers for whom, undoubtedly, the particular circumstances of their death, and perhaps also their status as members of the high clergy, led to a posthumous divinisation and the erection of a sanctuary at Dendur in

Barbotin 2005.

Cairo, Egyptian Museum, JE 44861 and 44862; ibid., pl. 3–4. About ten statues were found in the vicinity of Karnak.

After Varille 1968, 25, no. 9.

Ibid., 31, no. 12.

Wildung 1977a.

Franke 1994 with previous references.

Böwe 2004; Weill 1940.

Nubia;<sup>17</sup> and finally, Julie Cayzac has recently shown that two divine figures were dedicated a small hemispeos temple within the temenos of the temple of Mandulis at Kalabcha, also in Nubia.18 As well as in the Theban region and Nubia,<sup>19</sup> multiple cults of local "saints" also seem to have developed elsewhere, the frequency of which is moreover attested in the Hellenistic period by a decree of Ptolemy VIII, specifying that the deified dead would henceforth be buried at the expense of the royal treasury.20

While most of these small local cults are known only by brief mentions in papyri or more rarely in inscriptions, one last figure, that of the deceased Piyris, is known by his sanctuary. This cult developed in the region of the Great Oasis of the Western Desert of Egypt, more precisely, on a site in the north-western Kharga Depression, Ayn el-Labakha (Fig. 1), and constitutes an effective laboratory for studying the process of divinisation of an individual and the fabrication of their divine image.

Fig. 1: The Great Oasis, in the Western Desert of Egypt (R. Crouzevialle, ANR OASIS).

Blackman 1911, passim.

Cayzac 2019.

On the deified deceased figures in the Theban documentation, see el-Amir 1951; el-Amir 1959; von Lieven 2017, and her habilitation thesis, forthcoming; Birk/Delvaux/Labrique 2022. Von Lieven identifies 70 male and 16 female deities in this documentation, over a period of 150 years; see also Pashermontou and his son Hor, in the Theban region, at the end of the 2nd century BCE: Thiers 2022. C. Ord. Ptol. 53, l. 77–79.

# 2 The Cult of a Local "Saint" in the North of the Kharga Oasis

Located at the foot of the northern escarpment of the oasis, about fifty kilometres from Hibis, the metropolis of the nome, the site is positioned on the track that links Kharga to the neighbouring oasis of Dakhla, further west. Its occupation is largely documented for the Imperial period, although there are indications of an earlier occupation, in the Ptolemaic period,21 and it has been a place of passage, permeable to different influences – Egyptian and local oasis traditions, but also the Hellenised koine of the Roman Empire.

A settlement area has been identified around and to the east of the location of the Late Roman fortress that dominates the site, as well as an off-centre area of Romanperiod rock tombs (Fig. 2).<sup>22</sup> The site also has two mud-brick cult buildings, located near the two main springs: a temple to the north of the site, built on a kom, has hieroglyphic inscriptions identifying the god Amun, who is also the god of the main sanctuary of the oasis, at Hibis. The building is dated to the 1st-2nd century CE.<sup>23</sup> The second cult building, known as the "southern temple", yielded about a hundred demotic ostraca, a Greek ostracon and two bronze statuettes of Osiris which led the excavator, Mohammed A. Nur el-Din, to identify it as an Osirian sanctuary.<sup>24</sup> Unfortunately, these elements are still unpublished and the information remains scarce.

In this context, a small semi-rupestral sanctuary was built around a tomb dug into the sandstone, probably at the end of the 1st or beginning of the 2nd century CE (Fig. 3). In this area, a small group of at least six graves was identified: they are shallow vertical shafts leading to a vault closed by a sandstone slab. Halfway up the cliff, which is 11 metres high at this location, the sanctuary appears in the form of a terrace and extends into the hollow of the rock. It was built in three phases and, in its final stage of development, occupies an area of 330 m2 . A batch of small coins of Maximinus, Constantine I and his sons, issued between 296 and 335 CE, constitutes the last dated element of the sanctuary and leads us to date its abandonment to the mid-4th century.25

Its spatial organisation, arranged in three phases, allows us to sketch out the divinisation process of the deceased Piyris, the emergence of his cult and the development of a real cult complex to welcome a large number of visitors. Let us quickly retrace these developments (Fig. 4).

Wagner 1987, 82, 168–169, 405–407; Rossi/Ikram 2018, 159–204.

Ibrahim et al. 2008.

Hussein 2000, 4; Rossi/Ikram 2018, 165–169.

Hussein 2000, 5; Rossi/Ikram 2018, 175–176.

D. Schaad, in Hussein 2000, 57–58.

Fig. 2: The site of Ayn el-Labakha, after Rossi and Ikram 2018.

Fig. 3: The sanctuary of Piyris at Ayn el-Labakha (cliché: Gaëlle Tallet).

The first phase, which corresponds to the northernmost part of the complex, is the expansion of a tomb from the group mentioned above. It is a rock tomb, accessed through a vertical shaft leading to a corridor that serves two burial spaces, each consisting of an antechamber and a vaulted chamber. While one of the two gives the impression of an unfinished project, the other has been properly equipped for the matter and has received human remains. This tomb is associated with a complex (called "northern sanctuary" by the editors – we will use this name again) consisting of a hemispeos chapel (6), the door of which is framed by two engaged columns and a classical Egyptian-type cornice. A courtyard (7) and a terrace (8) were added later. At this stage, the complex resembles a classical Egyptian funerary complex, associating an underground structure – the tomb – and a superstructure – the funerary chapel, which can take on, as we have seen for Amenhotep, son of Hapu, important dimensions and look like a real funerary temple.

In a second phase, the complex was developed towards the south in the middle of the 2nd century CE, at the latest. Two rooms were then dug into the rock – a naos (10) and its pronaos (11). The façade of the new building is decorated with an Egyptian grooved cornice. Quickly, new arrangements were made, which respected the alignment of the rooms of the northern sanctuary: a vestibule (12), adjoining the chapel of the northern sanctuary, a courtyard (13) and a terrace (14). To the south of this terrace is a cellar (15). This new phase corresponds to a second sanctuary, designated the cen-

Fig. 4: Phased plan of the Piyris sanctuary at Ayn el-Labakha, after Hussein 2000, 10.

tral sanctuary and identified by a graffito in the courtyard as the "temenos of Piyris". 26 It is assumed that the deceased was called P(a)y-Hor, transcribed in Greek as Piyris. The choice of the term temenos reflects the complexity of the building, which was a sort of "temple-mausoleum" for the late Piyris, in the words of the papyrologist Guy Wagner:27 it was equipped with outbuildings and undoubtedly with a consecrated area, and perceived as more than a simple hieron.

Finally, in a third phase, a last complex, dedicated to the service and preparation of offerings, was constructed to the south. These rooms were built against the outer wall of the central sanctuary: a vast courtyard (19) was constructed, onto which opened grain storerooms (20), a silo and bakery spaces (17–18), which were probably necessary very early on to allow the large sanctuary to function. Against the rock wall, a redistribution corridor with niches (16) provides access to the vestibule of the

Graffito no. 11.

G. Wagner, in Hussein 2000, 69.

central sanctuary. All the ceramics found there and studied by Pascale Ballet date from the end of the 3rd-4th century CE. They probably correspond to the last phase of use of the complex.

# 3 The Divine Career of Piyris

Let us now return to Piyris and his destiny. His burial seems to be contemporary with the functioning of the site's main necropolis and dates essentially to the 1st-2nd century CE. It marks his social differentiation as the rest of the burials are found in a complex much further west, about 1200 metres away, and consist of shaft tombs, opening onto one or two vaults. Piyris, and a small group of other deceased people, was thus not buried with the rest of the population, and the location of his tomb seems to relate to the northern temple, located about 250 metres away on the same ridge. This proximity to the temple evokes the configuration of an isolated tomb at the site of el-Deir, also north of Kharga, identified as a priest's burial and dated to the Persian period (5th century BCE).<sup>28</sup> The human remains found in the vaulted room were buried in an excavated coffin-like pit, as is the case with the el-Deir tomb and a group of contemporary tombs found at Hibis.29 The tomb at Ayn el-Labakha contained five vases – krateriskoi or kantharoi, and a cylindrical beaker.30 Pascale Ballet emphasises the rarity of this type of forms in the oasis.31 One of them has irregular vertical depressions on the neck, awkwardly reproducing the gadrooning of metal vessels: the equipment in the tomb is therefore an imitation of luxury ware, similar to what will later be known as the Kharga Red Slip Ware, a top-of-the-range production of the oases.<sup>32</sup>

As underlined above, the hemispeos chapel (6), originally framed by two niches, is similar to a classical Egyptian funerary chapel, i.e. a superstructure in which funerary offerings were provided to the deceased to ensure their survival in the afterlife. Piyris was probably an important person, perhaps related to the priestly staff of the sanctuary.33 Unfortunately, we do not know more about him. The addition of a courtyard and a terrace in a second phase evokes several temples in hemispeos dedicated to deified deceased people: at the back of the sanctuary of Mandulis in Kalabcha, a rock chapel is

 This may have been the case for Pihor and Peteisis in Dendur and for the two deceased people of Kalabcha: Cayzac 2019, 66–67.

Tallet 2014, 227–229.

Ibid.

Hussein 2000, no. 3045–3048.

P. Ballet in ibid., 94.

Ibid., no. 3045. This production appears only at the beginning of the 4th century CE: Rodziewicz 1987, type 32, pl. XLIV; Ballet, type 141: Reddé et al. 2004.

dedicated to the two deities identified by Julie Cayzac; at the back of the temple of Peteisis and Pihor at Dendur, a small hollowed room, preceded by a masonry structure, must have corresponded to the tomb and the funerary chapel of the two brothers, or to the primitive temple of these deities, that was abandoned in favour of a large temple under Augustus because of the growing popularity of their cult.34 Finally, a last example is that of the hemispeos arranged for the cult of the two deified mortals at Deir el-Bahari, Imhotep and Amenhotep, son of Hapu. On the second terrace of Hatshepsut's funerary temple, a sanctuary for these cults was built in the Ptolemaic period in two rock chambers that were extended by a third room dug deeper into the mountain.35 And, as in the case of Kalabcha, a kiosk was built in front of the speos.36

Throughout this set of buildings, we can note the link between the hemispeos and deified deceased people. As Julie Cayzac points out, this mixed composition must have seemed "particularly relevant for the sanctuaries of some of these singular gods. In all the previous examples, the choice was made to place the most sacred part of the building in the heart of the rock. Perhaps this was a way of recalling the tomb of the deceased." 37

Ayn el-Labakha, where things took place in two phases, is a good observatory: first, the construction of a tomb and its funerary chapel, arranged as a small temple of the deified deceased (phase I), then the construction of a dedicated sanctuary, the "central sanctuary", with a hemispeos chapel, connected to the vaults of the main tomb by two lateral galleries. The place highlights a transition phase from the tomb to the temple: while the funerary chapel is not the place of a cult rendered to the deceased, but rather of offerings ensuring their survival in the afterlife, the second phase marks an evolution towards a cult rendered to the god Piyris.

Moreover, there is a clear desire to architecturally assert the link between the central sanctuary and the initial tomb. Openings were made in the northern walls of the naos and its pronaos, which served the southern part of the original tomb: there clearly seems to be a ritual link with this tomb whose vaulted chamber (5) communicates with a niche of the naos (10), while its antechamber (4) communicates with the pronaos (11). The servants ascended to the antechamber of the tomb from the pronaos using a small staircase cut into the floor of the tomb. Here, they performed rituals, as suggested by the presence of two incense burners and a clamp.<sup>38</sup>

In addition, in the south-western corner of the chapel, slabs cover a passageway leading down to another subterranean chamber (9), 1.10 m wide, 2.85 m deep, closed by a wooden door. It was left empty and its use is difficult to determine, but the funer-

Robert S. Bianchi identifies a crypt uncovered in the southern part of the back wall of the temple as a "tomb" of the two deceased brothers: Bianchi 1998.

Laskowska-Kusztal 1984, map I–II; Wildung 1977a, 220–235.

Ibid., fig. 1–3.

Cayzac 2019, 66.

No. 3041; 3033; 3056.

ary symbolism of the naos is explicit: one notes the deliberate splattering of black paint on the walls, a colour strongly connoted by Osirian symbolism, that of the black earth of Egypt regenerated by the rituals of the month of Khoiak and that of rebirth in the afterlife.<sup>39</sup> As Alexandra von Lieven suggests, the furniture unearthed in the vault of the temple of Piyris seems to offer an archaeological illustration of the "illumination of the lamp" rituals performed before a deity40 or before a deceased person transfigured into Osiris: this is the case of the "illumination before the Osiris (of) Nespameteri", known by a calendar from Elephantine.<sup>41</sup> The rituals in honour of the Osiris (of) Piyris performed in the tomb are thus prolonged by Osirian-type rituals in honour of the god Piyris, in his temple.

# 4 Theology, Onomastics and Iconography

Piyris is therefore a deified deceased person. In a proscynema dated to the 2nd-3rd century CE, inscribed in the courtyard of the sanctuary, he is described as ḥsi (ᾑσι/ αἱσι=ἑσι), "praised", i.e. as a deified deceased/hero, privileged by the gods.<sup>42</sup> In one graffito (no. 12), the choice of the epithet εὐτυχέστατος, "most blessed, most fortunate" is, as Guy Wagner notes, quite exceptional for a god and could refer, according to him, to the divinisation of the hero Piyris, fortunate among all.43 But Piyris is also referred to several times as "great god", in Greek theos megistos<sup>44</sup> and in demotic nṯr 'ȝ, <sup>45</sup> and as "lord", kurios. <sup>46</sup> The numerous pieces of furniture found in the vestibule (12) of the central sanctuary highlights the importance of the audience of Piyris. An unfinished bas-relief (stele I), dated to the 2nd-3rd century CE, was inscribed with a six-line dedication, in ink: the object is dedicated "out of piety" (εὐσεβείας χάριν) to

Chassinat 1966; Coulon 2010; Plu., De Iside 39. See the crypt in the back wall of the naos in Dendur, accessible from the outside: Bianchi 1998.

Collombert 2004.

Hoffmann 2009; Hugues 2005, 6–57, no. 147, pl. 33d; von Lieven 2010; 2017, 240–241. Like the deceased in the funerary texts, Peteisis and Pihor are described in the pronaos and naos of Dendur as "Osiris, great one, praised in the necropolis, justified": Blackman 1911, 83.

Graffito no. 5. The term is transcribed in Greek elsewhere as ἑσιῆς/ἁσιῆς. On this term, see Quaegebeur 1977; Wildung 1977a; Wildung 1977b; Wagner 1998; von Lieven 2017, 242–244; R. Birk in Birk/ Delvaux / Labrique 2022, 38–43. DB MAP #T20501.

Hussein 2000, 81. DB MAP #T20506 and 20507.

Stele IV and graffiti no. 5, 9, 16, and 12 (megistos). DB MAP #T20500, 20501, 20504, 20507, 205010.

A series of graffiti in demotic was inscribed on the north wall of the naos: see G. Dem. Lebekha 1, l. 2; 2, l. 2; Rossi/Ikram 2018, 169–170.

Graffiti no. 6, 7, 12, 16. DB MAP #T20502, 20503, 20505, 20510. The god Mandulis in Talmis/Kalabcha is also referred to as such in some of the proscynemata of pilgrims who came to seek his oracle: Ronchi 1974, III, 622–625.

"Piyris, greatest god (θεῷ μεγίστῳ)" by a man named Herakleios, son of Paapis, a carpenter.47

In the course of this process, the figure of Piyris acquired a theological depth the full dimensions of which are unmeasurable in the absence of preserved liturgical texts in the temple. But we can nevertheless grasp two fundamental elements: the construction of a divine image and, albeit accompanied by no biographical information on Piyris, the importance given to his name.

As a human who has attained divinity, Piyris must be identifiable in order to play his role as an intercessor between the world of mortals and that of the gods, providing health and salute (soteria) <sup>48</sup> to the faithful who "see" <sup>49</sup> him in his sanctuary. His image, which at Ayn el-Labakha takes the form of a statue, must preserve the physical features and character marks of the individual and provide him with a body suitable for the funeral service; as a receptacle of the deity, it is the recipient of the appropriate rituals and devotions of the faithful. This image must be an evocative image, easily identifiable, but also manifest and convey all the power and qualities of the god. In the middle of the antechamber (12), there was a fragmentary male statue made from limestone (Fig. 5)<sup>50</sup> and a bronze statuette representing a figure whose left arm ends in a hawk's head (Fig. 6).<sup>51</sup> A third statue, made from limestone and 36.5 cm high, was found in the courtyard (13) in the north-western corner: it had a rectangular base and is probably an ex-voto, which is probably also the case for the other statues, which are more fragmentary, but of a larger module. It is a male figure with curly hair holding an object in his left hand, which must have been a broken falcon (Fig. 7).52 Also noteworthy is a copy of the same model, of which only the bottom remains, which stood on the terrace (14) in front of the threshold leading to the courtyard.<sup>53</sup>

This series of statues and figurines was therefore uncovered in the "open" or semi-open rooms of the main sanctuary: the vestibule, the courtyard and the threshold serving the terrace. They are made of limestone or bronze and seem to follow a common model, with different modules: it is always a male figure, standing, leaning slightly on the left leg,<sup>54</sup> with the right hand raised<sup>55</sup> and the index finger pointing upwards.<sup>56</sup> The left arm, preserved for statues no. 2993 (in limestone) and 3010 (in bronze), is folded at waist level and holds an object, now lost for 2993. By invoking the

Hussein 2000, no. 3001; limestone; height: 31 cm; width: 17.5 cm. DB MAP #T20500.

Hussein 2000, stelae no. I and III, graffito no. 17.

Hussein 2000, graffiti no. 1, 5 and 12.

Hussein 2000, 51–52, no. 3035 (acephalous, arms broken).

Ibid., no. 3010.

Ibid., no. 2993.

Ibid., no. 2939.

In the case of bronze statue no. 3010, the male figure is standing, with his feet aligned, facing forward.

No. 2993, 3035, 3010.

No. 2993, 3010.

Fig. 5: Limestone statue of Piyris, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 51, fig. 68.

parallel of the bronze statuette we can postulate that it was a hawk: the forearm is wrapped in a sleeve that ends in a hawk's head. The hair is short and curly, the eyes sometimes highlighted with black, showing an intensity of presence that enhances its divinity.<sup>57</sup> The figure is dressed in a fringed toga, tightened at the waist by a twisted fabric belt.58

In the three limestone statues, the figure's clothing is carefully represented. The man is dressed in a short-sleeved chiton-like tunic with a 'boat' collar. It stops just above the ankles and has fringes along its lower edge. Over this, he wears a fringed stole (or mantle?), which completely envelops his left arm, folded against his left side, and leaves his right arm free, raised. The end of the stole is rolled up and forms a belt around the figure's waist. This form of garment and drapery is quite unusual and hardly attested in the Egyptian corpus, while decoration with fringes is not present in the Greek corpus and remains the preferred mode of decoration in Egyptian clothing.

No. 3010 and 2993, with eyes highlighted in black; a small limestone head (2985) is that of a male figure with curly, longer hair.

No. 2993, 3035, 3010.

Fig. 6: Bronze statue of Piyris, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 52, fig. 72.

We are therefore dealing with a hybrid garment here. A similar drapery appears, without fringes, on another statue preserved in the Kharga Museum which comes from the temple of Amun at Qasr Zayyan.59 The presence of horns in the figure's hair indicates that this is a representation of the ram-god Amun (Fig. 8).

A more detailed study of this garment will most certainly be needed, but it seems necessary to highlight a few elements.<sup>60</sup>

The wearing of a tunic with fringes along the lower edge is attested in Egyptian documentation and among the 64 priests represented in two large scenes painted in the mammisi (birth temple) of the sphinx god Tutu at Kellis, in the nearby oasis of Dakhla,<sup>61</sup> some wear clothes that may seem similar, although worn differently: thus, priest S22 wears a sack-like tunic with fringes on the lower part, complemented by a

Kharga Museum, Inv. 2–1036.

I would like to warmly thank Sylvie Brun, textile conservator at the Musée Galliera, Paris, for the rich discussions we had on this garment.

Kaper 1997, 87–137, esp. 108–113; Hope/Bowen 2021, 215–216.

Fig. 7: Limestone statue of Piyris, Kharga Museum, New Valley. Photo credit: G. Tallet.

tight, fringed scarf at the bust; others wear short-sleeved sack tunics with fringes along the side edges (16 priests in all, S31-S37, N19-N27). This may be a reference to Piyris' priestly status.

The arrangement of the garment, on the other hand, is similar to a Greco-Roman type of drapery, but could be inspired by an Egyptian model. Indeed, a statue with common features in terms of clothing was found on the dromos of the Soknebtynis temple in Tebtynis:62 it is a 1.20 m-high statue that Vincent Rondot compares to two fragments of a limestone statuette also found in Tebtynis63 and to a head of a statue of the same origin kept in the Phoebe Hearst Museum.<sup>64</sup> Private statues of the same type were

Rondot 2004, §127–129.

Cairo, Egyptian Museum, JE 65424.

Inv. 6–20311.

Fig. 8: Limestone statue of the god Amun from Qasr Zayyan, Kharga Oasis (Kharga Museum). Photo credit: G. Tallet.

found in other temples of the Fayum: in Narmuthis, two statues located on both sides of the axial door, in the pronaos,65 and two others in Soknopaiou Nesos.66 This is the same garment that Vincent Rondot postulates to be worn by the deified pharaoh Amenemhat III on a wooden painting in the Pushkin Museum in Moscow.67 This garment is well known outside Fayum in an abundant series from the Late Period studied by Robert S. Bianchi and referred to by him as "striding draped male figures": <sup>68</sup> it is a long tunic with short sleeves over which a fringed shawl is draped, leaving the right shoulder free – unlike the Piyris garment, which covers both shoulders. However, a vari-

Vogliano 1937, pl. XV and XXX; Arslan 1997, 76, no. II.51.

I.Fayoum I, 77–78; Bingen 1998; Lembke 1998.

Inv. I, 1a 6860.

Bianchi 1978.

ation of this garment, this time covering both shoulders, can be seen in a series of statues also published by Robert S. Bianchi and referred to as "enthroned male figures". 69 Now, the "striding draped male figures" are, according to Jan Quaegebeur's hypothesis, ḥsyw, glorified dead or "private persons who claim deification, (who) are represented wearing a cloak which originally is connected with the festival-sed", i.e. the royal jubilee during which the power of the king was renewed.70 This interpretation is accepted by Bianchi in his complementary study devoted to the "enthroned male figures". The unusual garment worn by Piyris would thus be an indication of his status as a deceased person and a sign of his divinisation. As for the falcon that rests on his hand, or even that merges with his hand in the case of the bronze statuette 3010, this remains to be explained. Perhaps this is a fairly realistic representation of the ritual elements witnessed by the faithful during the festivals in honour of Piyris: a cult servant would hold a hawk or an effigy of a hawk, or perform a type of ritual involving a hawk form.

# 5 From Man to Falcon

Alexandra von Lieven has drawn up a typology of the iconography of the deified dead. The first type, according to her, consists of statues or two-dimensional representations of the deceased in human form without any particular distinguishing feature.<sup>71</sup> In the second type, the anthropomorphic iconography is enriched by the wearing of regalia, as is the case with Peteisis and Pihor of Dendur, who wear a beard, the atef crown or a bull's tail.72 In these different cases, the new god remains intimately linked to his status as a deceased person. But it can also occur that certain deified deceased are granted more theological depth with, for example, the attribution of a divine family from the Egyptian pantheon: Imhotep and his sister Renpetneferet were considered the children of Ptah, the deified king Amenhotep I as the son of Amun and Mut,73 the Osiris (of) Nespameteri as that of Khnum and Satet.<sup>74</sup> A thorough theological construction can also lead to the figure becoming the hypostasis of another deity. This is the case of the Lady Udjarenes, at Hut-sekhem, qualified as "Osiris" after her death and who, in 150 years, evolved from the status of a local "saint" to that of a paredra of Neferhotep, a deity assimilated to Isis, and adopted the features of this deity.<sup>75</sup>

Collombert 1995.

Bianchi 1992.

Bianchi 1978; Quaegebeur 1977.

See the example of Satabous and Tesenuphis in the Fayum: Bernand 1975–1981, I, pl. 58–60; von Lieven 2010.

Blackman 1911, passim.

Gitton 1981.

Hoffmann 2009.

What about Piyris? The presence of the falcon on his right hand in statuette no. 3010 could link him to the second type, the deceased with regalia. The falcon also appears on the hands of the two deities from Kalabcha-Talmis on two reliefs facing each other on either side of the door that allows access from the courtyard to the hypostyle hall of the temple: they wear the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt,76 respectively, while the falcon of Piyris carries the union of the two crowns, the pschent. In the case of Kalabcha, the gesture can be interpreted as one of consecration of the North and the South.<sup>77</sup> But this is unlikely for Piyris: on the small bronze statuette in the vestibule, his hand does not hold a falcon, it is extended by a falcon.

Examples of deities borrowing the iconography of a local deity in its animal form are rare: this has been postulated in the case of a figure called Petesobek, assimilated to the crocodile god Sobek in the Fayum.78 Another example is that of Pashermontou-Panakht: on a Greco-Roman stela that went up for sale at Christie's in 2018, this deified deceased person is represented in a hieracocephalic form.79 Moreover, the parallel with king Amenemhet III, to whom a cult was performed in the Fayum under the name of Pramares (Pr-'ȝ Mȝ'-R', "the pharaoh Maa-Ra"), can offer additional elements.<sup>80</sup> The latter appears on a painted wooden panel in the Pushkin Museum in Moscow (already mentioned) draped in a white shawl and walking towards the crocodile god Sobek-Rê: he wears the costume of the "striding draped male figures". <sup>81</sup> Another stele preserved in the Cairo Museum (JE 28159) shows the same Pramares in profile, greeting the crocodile-headed god Sobek, and appears to be another version of the painted wooden panel: in this case, the cartouche of Amenemhat in the field leaves no doubt as to the identity of the character wearing the royal nemes. <sup>82</sup> Beyond a simple face-to-face encounter, we witness a real transfer of iconography in that of Pramares: as for Udjarenes and Neferhotep-Isis, Amenemhat III-Pramares sees his iconography transformed in contact with the local god to whom he is related, the crocodile Sobek.

The cult of Pramares developed considerably during the Ptolemaic period. It received significant subsidies from the Ptolemies at the same time that the development policy of the Fayum inaugurated by Amenemhat III was being resumed: they wished to present themselves as continuators of the great kings of the 22nd dynasty. This great benefactor of the Fayum was deified and associated with the cult of Sobek in

Cayzac 2019, 38–39, fig. 1.

Ibid., Fig. 1 and map I, 1a-1b.

Von Lieven 2013.

Thiers 2022.

Bresciani 1986; Jackson 1999; Widmer 2002; Zauzich 2008.

Vassilieva/Rondot 2012; Rondot 2013, 166–169.

Guéraud 1941.

several sites<sup>83</sup> and he is attested in many towns of the Fayum in the Greco-Roman period: inscriptions and papyri testify to his presence under the name of Pramares, in Theadelphia,84 Euhemeria,85 Apollonias,<sup>86</sup> Hawara,<sup>87</sup> Soknopaiu Nesos,<sup>88</sup> or, under the name of Poremanres, in Philadelphia.<sup>89</sup> A set of stelae from Theadelphia is known, representing a royal figure, facing forwards, framed by two crocodiles, undoubtedly an indication of the integration of Pramares in the crocodile regeneration ceremonies in some sanctuaries.<sup>90</sup>

But his association with the local triad is especially well known at Narmuthis, according to the hymns in Greek engraved by Isidoros in the vestibule of the temple. The triad of Narmuthis was formed by the crocodile god Sokonopis, his consort Isis-Hermuthis and their son, the crocodile Anchoes.<sup>91</sup> The fourth hymn of Isidoros elucidates the link between the deified Amenemhat III and the triad:

Who built this holy temple to the greatest (megistê) Hermuthis? What god remembered the All-Holy One of the Immortals? He marked out the sacred shrine as a high and inaccessible Olympos. For Deo the highest (hupsistê), Isis Thesmophoros, for Anchoes the Son, and the Agathosdaimon, Sokonopis, Immortals (all), he created a most fitting haven. A certain one, they say, was born a divine king of Egypt; he appeared on earth as Lord of all the world, rich, righteous, and omnipotent; he had fame, yes, and virtue that rivalled the gods' for to him the earth and sea were obedient, (and) the streams of all the beautiful-flowing rivers, (and) the breath of the winds, and the sun which shows sweet light, (and) on his rising (is) visible to all. The races of winged creatures with one accord would listen to him, and he instructed all who heard his voice. The fact is clear that the birds obeyed him as those who have read the Sacred Scriptures speak of this king once entrusting a written message to a crow and she returned bearing a verbal message together with a written reply. (It is so) for he was not a mortal man, nor was the son of a mortal man, but as offspring of a god, great and eternal god, (even of) Suchos, all powerful, very great, omnipotent, and the Agathosdaimon, he the son appeared on earth as a king. The maternal grandfather of this god is the Distributor of Life, Ammon, who is Zeus of Hellas and Asia. For this reason all things heard his voice, all things that move on earth and the races of winged heavenly creatures. What was the name of this one? What ruler, what king or who of the immortals, determined it? (Why) the one who nurtured him, Sesoosis, he who has gone to the Western Heaven, gave him a

See Erman [1934] 1937, 449–50; OGIS 175; I. Égypte Métriques 175, IV. On Pramares and the crocodile: Bresciani 1986; Labib Habachi, "A strange monument of the Ptolemaic period", Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 41, 1955, p. 106–111.

I.Fayoum 2.111.

I.Fayoum 2.133; Rübsam 1974, 84.

Rübsam 1974, 58.

Rübsam 1974, 91.

Rübsam 1974, 161.

Rübsam 1974, 144. See also I.Fayoum 1.6 (Soknopaiou Nesos), 34–35 (Hawara), 69 (Soknopaiou Nesos).

I.Fayoum 2.116–117, pl. 20–21. See also Bernand 1975–1981, III, 68: in one of the houses located on either side of the dromos of the temple, a small bust of Amenemhat III was found, testifying to his cult in this place.

I.Fayoum 3.158–159.

fair name, "Son of the Golden Sun". When the Egyptians say his name (in their language) they call (him) "Porramanres, the Great, Deathless" (. . .).

Reliably learning these facts from men who study history, I myself have set them all up on inscribed pillars, and translated (into Greek) for the Greeks the power of a prince who was a god, power such as no other mortal has possessed.

Isidoros wrote (it).<sup>92</sup>

Thus, Pramares, alias Poremanres, is the offspring of crocodile god Suchos-Sobek, and thus part of a divine family, like Imhotep, Amenhotep I or Nespameteri before him. This justifies why he adopts a double iconography, human and animal. It is moreover specified, in the hymn of Isidoros, that Pramares was deified precisely because of his capacity to dialogue with animals, and specifically with birds.93 This image is reminiscent of the figure of Orpheus charming the animals, which was popular in the iconography found in wealthy houses of the Dakhla oasis in the Late Roman Period,<sup>94</sup> but it may also allude to Piyris' possible powers as a seer: according to the pseudo-Apollodoros of Athens' Library, dating to the 1st-2nd century CE, Melampus was granted the faculty of understanding the language of not just birds, but all animals, after he took care of a dead snake's children (1.9.11); this quality has also been outlined for Tiresias by the same author (3.6.7).<sup>95</sup> Are we dealing here with a similar process to that of the representations of Piyris with a falcon on his hand? Did the reputation of the god-king Pramares and his "aretalogy" circulate beyond the Fayum, to the point of serving as a model for the creation of the image of Piyris? And what about the reference to Melampus, whose powers as a seer derived from the Egyptians, according to Herodotus (2.49)? The falcon statues at Ayn el-Labakha are reminiscent of depictions of Sobek or Amun on wooden boards, terracotta plaques and on a gemstone: in these cases, the animal is considered the zoomorphic hypostasis of the god.<sup>96</sup> There is unfortunately no evidence of the presence of a living bird in the sanctuary of Piyris, as was the case in Edfu.

And indeed, a second form of Piyris appears in the temple statuary, especially related to the northern sanctuary. Fragments of limestone statues of falcons were found in a pit dug at the back of the chapel, testifying to the fact that the cult that took place in this building was at some point addressed to a falcon deity. A limestone statue (Fig. 9), of which 19 cm is preserved, represents the falcon Horus, whose crown has been broken; he wears a necklace with a pendant representing a naos containing an

Hymn IV; see Vanderlip 1972, 64–65. DB MAP #S3200.

Bernand 1969, 649; Ael., NA 6.7.

This figure appears in the painted decoration of the wealthy house of Serenos, in Trimithis-Amheida, in the oasis of Dakhla, in the 4th century CE: McFadden 2019.

I would like to thank Thomas Galoppin for bringing this to my attention.

Tallet 2020, 656–685; Rondot 2013; Rondot 2012; Tallet 2011. Facilities involving a living crocodile have been discovered in Narmuthis: Bresciani/Pintaudi 1999; Bresciani/Giammarusti, 2001; 2012.

udjat eye. It was originally standing on a pedestal.<sup>97</sup> The eyes are inlaid with black glass, as the eyes of anthropomorphic figures could be enhanced with black.<sup>98</sup> The feathers are rendered by scales and striations. It is a beautifully made statue, perhaps older than the rest of the group according to Adel Hussein.99 In the case of a second limestone statue (Fig. 10), 45 cm high, the falcon is still standing on a pedestal: the proportions are awkward despite careful work, especially the feathers.<sup>100</sup> The head of the statuette was found in the cellar (15) when the cult furniture was deposited there. A crown is present on this reconstructed statue: it is the pschent, allowing us to identify the royal heir god Horus, or one of his forms. The base was inscribed with a dedication, allowing us to assume that it is a votive object: the six lines specify that the object was dedicated by an Aurelius, Ammonios – the dedication of the object is thus posterior to the Edict of Caracalla in 212 CE. Finally, a limestone statuette represents a falcon with a very deteriorated head, the crown of which is missing along with the legs and part of the tail. It wears a necklace with a pendant in relief on its chest, the plumage is well detailed.<sup>101</sup> The three statues were probably buried deliberately to protect them from looting during later phases. The fragments of a fourth Horusfalcon statue in stuccoed wood (Fig. 11), 11 cm high, were lying at ground level: the falcon is again wearing the pschent. The wood is covered with a film of white stucco and the uraeus of the pschent is a metal applique (silver?).102 Added to this is the furniture from the deposit in cellar 15: a fragmentary statue of a falcon in limestone (Fig. 12) on a rectangular base, the head of which is missing,<sup>103</sup> and other bronze objects that were probably originally part of the cult furniture of the northern sanctuary – three dishes and a bronze hook.<sup>104</sup> Three bronze columns, uncovered in the northern niche of the façade, could have been part of a mobile naos.

The cult of the falcon god in the northern sanctuary probably functioned in parallel with that of the central sanctuary. The choice of the animal may have been inspired by the very name of the glorified dead, Piyris being the Greek transcription of the Egyptian pȝy Ḥr, Pihor, "that of Horus", which appears in the demotic graffiti.105

Hussein 2000, no. 3030.

It should be noted that in the case of the deified deceased Hor, son of Pashermontou, on the Cairo stele JE 52809, which was probably part of the saint's shrine, the eyes were originally inlaid with precious metal: Rowe 1940, 16–19, pl. II.

Hussein 2000, 43.

Ibid., no. 3028.

Ibid., no. 3031.

Ibid., no. 3043.

Ibid., no. 3032.

Ibid., no. 3025 and 3055.

Lüddeckens 1980, 441; TM Nam. 915.

Fig. 9: Falcon statue of Piyris in limestone, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 52, fig. 75.

Fig. 10: Falcon statue of Piyris in limestone, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 53, fig. 78.

Fig. 12: Fragmentary statue of the Piyris falcon in limestone, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 53, fig. 79.

# 6 The Sensible Materiality of the Divine: Two Visions of the Same God?

Which form came first? It might be tempting to adhere to the hymn of Isidoros in Narmuthis, "translating for the Greeks" the rites of Isis-Hermuthis and the local triad, to postulate that the anthropomorphic image of Piyris is a Hellenised dressing of an Egyptian theological fund and to see the form of the hawk god as the original one. However, the examples of Udjarenes and Amenemhet III-Pramares show us that the opposite evolution is more likely. Piyris was deified and received a cult with strong Osirian connotations in the central sanctuary, with rituals related to the burial and regeneration of the deceased, in connection with his burial chamber. He probably only became a falcon deity in a second phase. At this stage, the play on his name, "That of Horus", probably played an important role. This should not be surprising: as Dimitri Meeks reminds us, "because it is in adequacy with the bearer, the name contains the identity and, correlatively, the deep nature of an individual, even if he is a god. [. . .] The word 'name' (rn) is sometimes identified with the ka, the vital energy, which connects one's name to what keeps one alive". <sup>106</sup> Thus the power of a pun, a homonymy or an assonance can prove to create a new deity and the etymology (albeit fanciful) sometimes reflects the functionality or origin of the god. In the case of Piyris, the fact that his name is linked with Horus seems to have found a ritual and theological development. Indeed, the deceased Piyris, brought closer to Osiris in his central sanctuary, seems to have split into a human and animal form linked to Horus, son and heir of Osiris.

In the middle of the central chapel there is an enormous sandstone pedestal, 2.5 metres long and 1.05 metres wide, rectangular in shape, which is similar to a stretcher support for religious processions.<sup>107</sup> An iron fork, a bronze incense burner and, in a pit, a bronze lamp were found on the floor of the chapel: they are obviously elements linked to the cult.<sup>108</sup>

The dimensions of the support suggest a procession involving the statue of the divine falcon Payhor/Piyris. People attended the festival and brought ex-voto offerings. Fragments of bronze furniture found in this space, such as a 12-cm-high bronze handle, recall the animal form of the divinity (Fig. 13): it is decorated with the head of a falcon wearing a pschent.<sup>109</sup> Consistent objects were found in the service corridor (16), such as a statuette of a hawk made of limestone (Fig. 14), crowned with a pschent

Meeks 2016, 119. On the creative power of the name, see also Meeks 1992.

In processions, portable naoi were often equipped with partial doors, making it possible to play on the visible and the hidden. See van der Plas 1989.

Hussein 2000, no. 3040, 3042, 3481.

Ibid., no. 3015.

and wearing a necklace with a medal bearing the effigy of an emperor,110 and in the service room (17), where a small pschent with a frontal uraeus was found (Fig. 15), obviously a crown of a hawk statuette.111 Other objects were perhaps scattered during the final looting of the sanctuary or hidden there: a falcon head (Fig. 16) quite close to statuette no. 3029 and a copper spouted beaker associated with Late Imperial (late 3rd and early 4th century CE) coins, were uncovered in the courtyard of the southern part of the complex.<sup>112</sup>

Fig. 13: Bronze handle decorated with a falcon's head, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 54, fig. 84.

The procession of Piyris may have been accompanied by medieval mystery-type performances as is attested for another deified dead person, Amenhotep I, at Deir el-Medina: a festival centred around celebrating his death, the festival of "Preparing the Bed for Amenhotep", is known in the New Kingdom.113 Similarly, a series of celebrations

Ibid., no. 3029; colour remains.

Ibid., no. 3034.

Ibid., no. 2940, 2983.

Von Lieven 2001.

Fig. 14: Falcon statue of Piyris in limestone, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 53, fig. 76.

Fig. 15: Headdress of a falcon statue of Piyris in limestone, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 53, fig. 81.

Fig. 16: Falcon statue of Piyris in limestone, Kharga Museum, New Valley, after Hussein 2000, 53, fig. 80.

dedicated to episodes in the life and death of Imhotep are attested in the Ptolemaic period.114 It is possible that there were dramatized performances during which priests held a domesticated falcon or an image of a falcon, as anthropomorphic representations might suggest. These rituals probably took place in ceremonies linked to the death of Osiris (of) Piyris, as suggested by the Osirian dimension of the central sanctuary's chapel, splattered with black, and they may have developed the "Horus" theophoric name of Piyris into a celebration of the royal falcon's rebirth, wearing the pschent and assimilated to Horus. As Paul John Frandsen has pointed out, the tomb, like the female womb, can act as an "instrument of rebirth". <sup>115</sup> In the courtyard of the central sanctuary, on the west façade, there are two figures of the patron deity of the female womb, Bes,116 framing the doorway and both facing north in a striking break in symmetry:117 facing the northern sanctuary, the two figures dance with udjat eyes hanging from their forearms and raising a tambourine.118 The presence of the figure of Bes, whose apotropaic function is marked here by the udjat eyes, is associated with both birth and death and with the protection of Horus the child.119 As Lise Manniche notes, a bench was set up in front of each decorated wall.

The staging of the apparition of Piyris in processions and the rituals celebrating the Osirian rebirth cycle seem to have been very successful, to the point of giving rise to a local pilgrimage and requiring specific arrangements during the third phase of the sanctuary. The decoration of the northern sanctuary underwent an important renovation during the construction phase of the central sanctuary and seems to have focussed more specifically on the falcon aspect of Piyris.

The double door between the vestibule and the courtyard of the central sanctuary appears to be a demarcation line between the sacred space reserved for the priests, in which there are dipinti in Demotic and only one in Greek,120 and the public space, accessible for the faithful. The Greek dipinti are concentrated in this courtyard (17 out of 19 listed by Guy Wagner),121 the oldest of which dates from year 4 of Antoninus Pius, i.e.

Vittmann 1984. These stagings are undoubtedly based on literary narratives elaborated in the temples: Ryholt 2010.

Frandsen 2007, 100.

Meeks 1992.

See a parallel representation in a rock tomb in Bahariya (Qarat el-Farargi): Fakhry 1973, II, reed. 1983, 96, fig. 35. Representations of Bes on either side of a doorway can be found in the temple of Mut and in that of Medamud, see Volokhine 2010, no. 56–57; Volokhine 2019.

According to Lise Manniche, it is a shield, and the other hand, lost, would have held a sword: Manniche 2015, 231–232. I don't find this altogether compelling.

Malaise 2004.

Ibid., 169–170; Hussein 2000, graffito no. 1.

Wagner 1996; Wagner in Hussein 2000, 69.

in 141 CE.122 There was a low bench along the northern wall, as found in the vestibules of several Kharga sanctuaries, including the southern temple of Ayn el-Labakha.123 It could have been a meeting or gathering room. A door allows circulation between the courtyard of the central sanctuary and that of the northern sanctuary. Some privileged persons even have their own place, a topos, as attested by graffito no. 3 on the north wall of the antechamber (12): unfortunately, we do not know enough about the holder of this topos, Olbios, son of Septimia. In any case, all this points to the existence of dedicated spaces linked to the members of a religious association.124

In this room with benches along the north and south walls and against the façade, there are heterogeneous pedestals in the form of rectangular pillars with a cornice and a platform. Their tops were about 1.34 metres above the plinth. These plinths are inscribed with short ex-votos in Greek, just as the south wall bears votive inscriptions in Greek, in red or black paint. Several fragments of sculptures were also found in this space125 the most remarkable of which is the male statue of Piyris no. 2993, which may have been placed on one of the votive pedestals. Two other plinths were identified on the terrace in the central sanctuary, north and south of the doorway, and on the floor, the fragments of Stele I, an ex-voto of the so-called Ammonios,<sup>126</sup> and those of a male statue in limestone127 similar to 2993.

# 7 Conclusion

The popularity of local "saints"' cults, which played a fundamental role in the religious life of the small towns and villages of the Egyptian chora, must have encouraged the development of varied ritual forms, accessible to a multicultural public. In the onomastics, one notices a mixture of oasis epichoric names and common Egyptian, Greek or Latin names. Egyptian priestly strategy cannot be ruled out in this process as we note a desire to be part of a larger trend, attested on the scale of Egypt – at

Hussein 2000, graffito no. 6.

Rossi/Ikram 2018, 176.

We can mention the case of ḥry Djedhor, whose funerary furniture is detailed in P. Louvre N2415, dated 225 BCE: he appears as the patron saint of a professional association (of porters or soldiers). A man named Peteharpre appears as the patron saint of sailors, in P.Philadelphia 5/6, dated 302–301 BCE. Von Lieven points out that tombs belonging to craftsmen of the same profession must have been located around the funerary chapel of these saints: von Lieven 2017, 241. A cult association dedicated to Pramares is also attested at Arsinoe in the Fayum by P.Cairo CG 31178 (147 BCE): Cenival (de) 1972, 218; another at Medinet Ghoran, by P.Dem. Lille 98: Cenival (de) 1977.

Hussein 2000, no. 2940, 2984, 2985, 2993, 2994.

Ibid., no. 2938.

Ibid., no. 2939.

Narmuthis, Talmis,<sup>128</sup> Deir el-Bahari129 and elsewhere – which consists in using Greek poetic forms to promote a sanctuary, even a local one, as is the case on Stele I, placed on the terrace of the central sanctuary. As Guy Wagner pointed out, and as Willy Clarysse and Marc Huys demonstrated, the text shows a somewhat clumsy attempt at versification in Ionian, in a Homeric language and style, and is organised into three distichs arranged in 15 lines enamelled with rare and sophisticated words or archaic forms.<sup>130</sup> It was probably thought necessary to give the local "saint" Piyris the destiny that his name both suggested and called for.

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Part 4: Plural Divine Configurations, "Pantheons" and Divine Sovereignty

# Gabriella Pironti and Corinne Bonnet Introduction

The theme of this section is particularly complex since it places polytheism "squared" at the heart of the debate, i.e. the divine configurations, grasped in the plurality of gods that constitute them, and that we call "pantheons" in current language. Such a topic logically invites us to address the question of divine sovereignty, insofar as it is one of the major issues to be treated in order to try to understand how these configurations of gods are organised, along which lines of force, by choosing this or that hierarchy. At a city level, for example, are they organised around a god, a pair of gods, a triad or some other articulation? And what about the god that is sometimes called "poliad"? Should we give up on this comfortable but rigid silhouette, which would structure the so-called pantheon of a city or kingdom according to a pyramidal hierarchy? The truth is, we probably should. The most common solution is to replace it with the figure, at the same time more flexible but also vague, of a "tutelary deity", a function that has the advantage of not claiming exclusivity. On the other hand, all the divine powers that a city or a community honours exercise a form of tutelage towards them, as the very nature of polytheism implies. Would they all be sovereign gods accordingly? In order to remain consistent in answering this question, we cannot avoid exploring the sovereign god himself, his profile, his function and his various titles. This is the added value that the MAP project brings to this type of investigation by anchoring it in an interrogation centred on divine onomastics and benefiting from the support of an impressive database, which has the advantage of remaining particularly attentive to specific contexts and facilitating a comparative approach. The different contributions in this section provide stimulating insights into the cross-problematics of divine configurations and sovereignty.

In the Semitic world, the onomastic element Baal is extremely frequent, but is it a theonym or a title? What is its significance in terms of divine sovereignty? Giuseppe Garbati and Fabio Porzia have, for the first time, brought together all the evidence from the Levant and Cyprus. They demonstrate that a Baal god does not exist as such, contrary to what is too often given for granted. Baal/Baalat is a transparent onomastic element, meaning "Master/Lord or Mistress/Lady"; it expresses the control, command or leadership that a deity exercises over a place, group or domain. The Baal dossier makes it necessary, as the MAP team has been doing for the past five years, to rethink the overly rigid categories of theonym, epithet and epiclesis, and to examine the strategies adopted with regard to divine nomination in greater depth, case by case. The numerous variations of the onomastic formula "Baal + another element" (toponym, ethnonym, substantive, syntagm) allow us to grasp the different facets of the sovereign functions of a whole set of local gods. This investigation, like many others in this thematic section, intersects with the problematics addressed in the "One vs. Many" section. In fact, the onomastic element Baal, which the Hebrew Bible approaches polemically, in a binary perspective, through the filter of the "One" theological orientation, is more on the side of the "Many", since it appears within several divine onomastic sequences and configurations constructed hic et nunc.

In their four-handed contribution, Sylvain Lebreton and Giuseppina Marano compare the different figures of Zeus by the Athenians, with his specific or shared onomastic attributes, and the many aspects of Zeus in the Near East, especially in Syria, during the Greco-Roman period. Their contribution highlights the notion of "supreme" or "eminent" god, which in Greek is, among others, expressed by the terms hupsistos or hupatos. This notion may seem less relevant for the Greek cities of the Classical period but it emerges as a valuable heuristic tool for the Hellenistic and Roman periods and it allows for a comparative perspective to be drawn between the Greek and Levantine onomastic habits, since the Semitic onomastic repertoire also includes elements expressing divine eminence. For example, in the funerary inscription engraved on the sarcophagus of Eshmunazor, king of Sidon in the last quarter of the 6th century BCE (KAI 14), the text alludes to the establishment of the gods šmm rmm, "in the high heavens", once their sanctuaries have been built and consecrated. We could therefore use the notion of "supreme gods" as a starting point for exploring different logics of divine configurations and introducing important nuances in the representation of the gods "on the top": supreme or eminent god, tutelary god, poliad god, sovereign god, royal god, etc. In the latter case, it should be noted that the Zeus Olumpios promoted by the Seleucids is both the king of gods and the god of kings, as Giuseppina Marano suggests. Between these various forms of hierarchisation and leadership, leading to contextual configurations, nothing indicates that the respective functions necessarily overlap nor that the relevant onomastic attributes correspond to stable or fixed functions. Zeus Hupatos or Hupsistos in Athens does not seem to be particularly "supreme" in terms of importance or weight, nor is he particularly "sovereign". "What's in a divine name" is a recurring question. All in all, does the figure of the "supreme god" exist only in mythical narratives?

Several contributions in the section underline the decisive role played by local contexts connected with political history in attributing sovereign titles to the gods and allocating tasks related to divine sovereignty and/or divine tutelary function stricto sensu. Of course, Zeus is often in the limelight. But other deities come into play in this polyphonic reflection on divine sovereignty and configurations of gods meant to provide protection to people. In Athens, a case that should not be generalised, the central place in the civic pantheon is occupied by the eponymous goddess: even if she is not alone, Athena is eminent, enthroned on the (acro)polis, from where she dominates and protects the territory and its inhabitants. A challenging case-study is offered by the plural Zeuses of Stratonikeia in Caria. Nicole Belayche traces their history and shows how both Zeuses come to play a sovereign role one after the other, alongside the Hecate of Lagina, in a complementary dynamic. The analysis of the divine configuration of this city and the changes it undergoes diachronically is exemplary in many respects because it pays attention to onomastic strategies, the territorial anchoring of cults and the political vicissitudes that dynamically reconfigure the local society of gods.

Other pairs or couplings of "sovereign/tutelary" deities appear in the section. With François Quantin, we leave the Graeco-Roman East to examine the religious landscapes of Western Greece. How do the configurations work in the sanctuary of Dodona in Epirus, known as one of the main and most ancient places of worship of Zeus, famous for his oracle granted with a Panhellenic reputation? The local (and global) Zeus of Dodona is not alone in that cult-place for he is associated, in a recurrent couple, with his partner Dione, whose name derives from Zeus. What kind of couple are we talking about here? This gendered gemination of divine power is not an exclusive privilege of the gods' king; in the same region, we encounter a couple including the god Pan and the goddess Pasa. The Roman world provides many other examples of this type of divine dyad (like Silvanus/Silvana). As for the pair of divine twins par excellence, formed by Apollo and Artemis, also masculine and feminine, they are linked by their genealogy as children of Zeus and Leto, rather than by an onomastic similarity although onomastics also expresses, in its own way, through epithets (like "Letoids", or "Delios" and "Delia"), the link that connects them. In Apollonia, in Illyria, Apollo and Artemis share a sovereign profile, according to specific ways of "co-working" that François Quantin explores through the onomastic lens and through the local iconography of both gods.

Divine configurations and hierarchisation processes adopt different strategies which make polytheism a complex and multifaceted reality. In our efforts to grasp this, we must bear in mind an important piece of data that has emerged from the systematic approach of the MAP project. Among the 22,200 testimonies of divine onomastic sequences contained in the MAP database today (October 2023), 14,766 refer to a single divine power, i.e. 66% of the whole available evidence. This percentage reveals a strong and to a certain extent surprising trend, that is, most of the time, when one or several human agent(s) mobilise(s) divine powers, within the framework of an offering or dedication, an honorific or funerary text, he/she/they address(es) a single deity or group of deities (like the Moirai, the Megaloi Theoi, the assembly of the gods, etc.). This percentage rises to 96% if we also select the testimonies with two divine powers, with a total amount of 21,464 onomastic sequences. The majority of divine configurations explored in this section are thus, all in all, rather modest in their scope; this overall observation suggests that the quantitative dimension of polytheisms ultimately lies more in the variety of onomastic elements available and effectively mobilised than in the complexity of their arrangements. On the other hand, we must not forget the qualitative dimension of divine configurations that can only be grasped on a few occasions through a brief onomastic sequence using a very specific and well targeted qualification. In this respect, the typology of the documents plays a fundamental role: decrees, oaths, treatises, and defixiones contain, much more than dedications, long, rich, and sometimes very original onomastic sequences. The "ordinary polytheism" – a concept to be explored – made up of short and repetitive sequences, mostly inherited from local habits and enriched by a few "theological" experiments, is massively present in our body of evidence. The study of divine configurations and expressions of divine sovereignty urges us to consider both facets of "religion in the making", tradition and creativity, addressed as a complex social activity, which constantly interfere with the crucial parameters of space and time.

# Giuseppe Garbati and Fabio Porzia In Search of God Baal in Phoenician and Cypriot Epigraphy (First Millennium BCE)

Abstract: In academic research, much of our effort is devoted to reassessing scholarly assumptions and upgrading our knowledge according to new data and/or innovative methodological frameworks. This paper shares these concerns relating to what scholars often too quickly regard as "the god Baal". By analysing the whole extant epigraphic documentation attesting the term bʿl from Phoenicia and Cyprus, made possible thanks to the MAP database, we will argue that scholars should be more prudent in evoking this divine entity as such, and act accordingly when studying his cult, diffusion and iconography.

# 1 Introduction

The term bʿl is polyvalent and polysemic,<sup>1</sup> as underscored by every dictionary, embracing the semantic spectrum of "lord, chief", "owner, possessor, proprietor", "husband", "citizen, inhabitant", or even functioning as "indication of membership of a certain group". <sup>2</sup> However, although scholars agree that when the term refers to divine beings, it functions as a transparent term,<sup>3</sup> they nonetheless tend to render it by a transliteration rather than a translation.4 Therefore, instead of dealing with many (divine) "masters", the multiple attestations of the term bʿl risk being conflated and hypostatised into a divine being called "Baal". Stretching beyond the field of Levantine studies and reaching not only the general public but also specialists from other disciplines less aware of the state of our documentation, such a linguistic (mis)use, unintentionally, on the scholar's part, bears at least three consequences regarding the documentation from the first millennium BCE: 1) a god called Baal is traditionally re-

The Introduction (1) was written by both authors, part 2 (Phoenicia) by Fabio Porzia, part 3 (Cyprus) by Giuseppe Garbati, the conclusions (4) by both authors. Our deepest thanks go to Paolo Xella for having read the manuscript and having shared with us some useful observations, and to Herbert Niehr and Christophe Nihan for the fruitful discussion during the Workshop organised in Toulouse. DNWSI, I, s.v. b'l2, 182–184; Müller 2005.

By transparent, we mean a term that is used in different occasions and contexts, not only in onomastics (for more details and bibliography, see Porzia 2020, 219–230).

See, for instance, Guarneri 2021; Herrmann 1999. The same attitude is not exclusive to our field. Specialists of Mesopotamian religion, for instance, systematically transliterate but never translate divine names meaning that, for ancient Mesopotamians, their gods held fully understandable names while for us they bear exotic and mysterious names, only accessible to those of us who have rudiments of Akkadian (Porzia 2020, 221–222).

garded as the Phoenician deity par excellence; 2) such a Baal, often considered a storm god with a more or less consistent iconography, spread from the Levantine coast, mainly but not exclusively following the so-called Phoenician colonisation; 3) on a general level, there is the risk of provoking a distorted perception of a kind of "bʿl monotheism" in the ancient Mediterranean.

However, taking advantage of the MAP database, this paper challenges these aspects by providing an extensive scrutiny of how the term bʿl was applied to divine beings in inscriptions from the Eastern Mediterranean, and in Phoenician inscriptions in particular.5 It also aims to produce a comprehensive understanding and typology of the different uses of the terms bʿl as a divine name.6 Of course, to some extent, our analysis is biased by the nature of the MAP database, that is, by the fact that it exclusively deals with divine names in epigraphy. Focussing on the first millennium BCE epigraphic attestations, we will leave aside the documentation from Ugarit, the Hebrew Bible and the theophoric elements in anthroponomy. These issues, although pivotal, cannot be examined here as extensively as they deserve. Moreover, the present paper only focuses on two geographical areas: Phoenicia and Cyprus. Word limit restrictions preclude the discussion of the other Levantine attestations, included in the preliminary version of this paper discussed in Toulouse during the Workshop; all these data will be the object of a further publication. Nonetheless, we believe that prioritising the documentation discussed here still helps to establish some basic points, which will later prove useful when compared with data of a different nature and/or historical-geographical origin, including those from the so-called "Phoenician Occident". Moreover, methodologically speaking, our main conclusions seem to be drawn from the direct Phoenician evidence we discuss here, rather than from other or external sources, sometimes polemically biased such as the Hebrew Bible, or intrinsically incomplete such as anthroponomy, where the theophoric element bʿl might in many cases relate to – and therefore summarise and hide – more complex divine names (such as Baal Hammon).

### 2 Baal in Phoenicia

Although the definitions of Phoenicians as a people and Phoenicia as a territory are hotly debated,7 they can still be used for practical reasons. At the same time, we strongly refuse to attribute them any identity value and limit their heuristic potential to descriptive and geographical labels, attesting certain cultural traits without any clear-cut boundary, many of them overlapping with neighbour regions. In this framework, another

The texts quoted here follow the edition chosen and recorded in the DB MAP. For more discussion and bibliography see also the DB MAP.

On the distinction between the notions of "divine name", "title", and "epithet", see Bonnet et al. 2018.

See only recently Porzia 2018; Garbati 2021c.

"myth" that should be nuanced is that Phoenicians continued the Canaanite tradition into the first millennium BCE. Accordingly, Phoenician Baal(s) are understood by scholars to be a heritage of second millennium BCE Baal(s) in the region, starting with the Ugaritic one. However, the socio-political systems before and after the reorganisation of the Levant between Late Bronze and Iron Age are not the same. It is true that the Phoenician city-states carried on the second millennium geopolitical configuration, unlike the innovative territorial states characterised by some tribal features (such as the Aramaic kingdoms, Israel and Juda and the Transjordanian polities).8 However, some changes even came to affect the Phoenician cities: on the religious level, for instance, in the whole Levant the richness of local pantheons is drastically different, passing from hundreds of deities attested at Ugarit to what can be regarded as the "small polytheisms" of the Iron Age, counting no more than ten deities for the sites with the best preserved documentation.9

The divine couple composed of Baal and Astarte is then considered the basic unit of the "Phoenician religion", <sup>10</sup> another quite abstract category used by scholars in their fragmented and ethnic-oriented description of the ancient Near East. Scholars can be divided between those recognising bʿl as a common appellative for any male main deity and those using the term in a broader and absolute way, avoiding systematic translations and capitalising the first letter when transliterating it, so that Baal becomes the matrix of each Phoenician male god. However, besides a few exceptions,<sup>11</sup> Baal is too often regarded as the quintessential Phoenician god, a truly pan-Phoenician divinity and, outside Phoenicia, a kind of "Phoenician brand" in the religious realm. Actually, the notion of a "god Baal" is so rooted in our horizon that each of us could very easily repeat it passively, as a matter of habitude, as an automatism or as a shortcut. Consequently, scholarly debate became stuck in a double impasse:


The question we're trying to answer here is whether our documentation supports this view or not. In order to answer this, the following table (Tab. 1) collects all the occur-

Xella 2014. However, on the risk of overstating the emphasis on "tribal", "ethnic" or even "national" states in the Iron Age, see Porzia 2022b, 309–312.

Even if our knowledge of deities is limited to those listed in royal and official inscriptions, one cannot ignore that the global amount dramatically decreased in all the Iron Age Levantine polities. Lipiński 1995, 65.

See, for instance, Bonnet 1996, 50; Xella 2019, 275–275, where the name bʿl is used with circumspection.

rences of the term bʿl, included the feminine form bʿlt, in what is traditionally considered Phoenicia.12


Tab. 1: Occurrences of the term bʿl, included the feminine form bʿlt, in Phoenicia.

These overall considerations can be formulated:


In what follows, not all the occurrences are discussed; for a complete list of the occurrences and their main edition, see the Annexes 1–2.

For this site, we do not include the three occurrences of bʿl in the cuneiform treaty between Esarhaddon and Baal I of Tyr (ca. 675; ANET 533–534). Such evidence, however, does not change the general interpretation we provide here.

Xella 1991; Xella 2010; Xella 2021a.

Besides these cases, we are left with one reference of ʾdr and kr and some occurrences of bʿl and bʿlt alone.

As for the passage containing the syntagma bʿl ʾdr, it will be discussed later in more detail (see p. 372). The syntagma itself is a normal qualification of the term bʿl that in Semitic can be made, more rarely, through the apposition of an adjective or, more often, using a construct chain. If the nomen rectum is a specific entity, then the expression really means "the master of something", while if it is an abstract notion or a quality, it functions as a sort of hendiadys; thus "the master of holiness" can simply be understood as "the holy master".

The case of bʿl kr is more complicated and, because it is also attested outside Phoenicia, deserves more attention. This first occurrence comes from a lithic vase or mortar, supposedly from Sidon, preserved in the Berlin Museum, but now lost.<sup>15</sup> On all four sides it bore images, of uncertain interpretation.

The term kr may mean "furnace" but this relies essentially on the iconography of an anthropomorphic (divine?) figure between flames. However, very little attention was paid to the fact that the expression bʿl kr is attested on side D and not on side A, where this image is found.16 Some authors saw in bʿl kr an equivalent of the title ἄναξ πυρός awarded by Nonnos of Pannopolis to Herakles (Dion. 40.369).<sup>17</sup> But scholars who analysed the other attestations of the term kr quickly abandoned its interpretation as "furnace", as well as that of "pasture". <sup>18</sup> In light of the occurrences of the syntagm in Syria and Anatolia, the term seems rather to be related to a toponym or to the god Kurra.19 This god is attested from the third millennium city of Ebla, but also, during the first millennium BCE, and besides in our inscriptions, in many Phoenician personal names (recently at Tall Šeḫ Ḥamad). Furthermore, cuneiform sources provide more onomastic evidence for the god Kurra but also hint to a temple dedicated to this deity in seventh-century Nineveh. Kurra seems to be a storm-god, especially according to the iconography of the statue from Çineköy (725–700 BCE).<sup>20</sup> Unfortunately, the preserved portion of the hieroglyphic Luwian inscription does not contain the passage with the equivalent of kr in that language. It is, however, highly probable that bʿl kr corresponded to Tarhunza, the storm-god of the Luwian tradition.

Barnett 1969.

Side D represents, in the upper register, a figure on a pedestal with two other smaller figures on the sides in a stylised building overlooked by two stars and, in the lower register, a figure holding birds in his hands (or a bird and cereals, according to the authors) standing between four palm branches.

Lipiński 1970; Delcor 1974. According to Delcor, the term kr is related to the name of the Phoenician month krr, connected to heat, whereas Lipiński explains the name of the month by the root krr, "to dance" (Lipiński 1995, 239–240). Both authors locate the month at the beginning of spring, corresponding to the Greek month Peritios.

The latter was re-proposed by Barnett 1969, 10–11.

Röllig 2001; Younger 2009; Bordreuil 2010.

Tekoglu et al. 2000; Lebrun/De Vos 2006.

Although the interpretation of the term in Sidon and Anatolia may not be the same, it seems plausible that bʿl kr refers to the "master Kurra" rather than to a "master of the furnace". The term bʿl would then not be in a construct chain and would simply function as a title for an elsewhere well-attested divinity.

The group of isolated occurrences of the term bʿl can be now addressed. In the two occurrences from Antarados and Tyre, the reading of the third letter is problematic. In the first case, the letter /l/ is restored by the publisher and may designate either a theonym or a theophoric anthroponym built on bʿl. In the seal from Tyre, the shape of the third letter better corresponds to the Phoenician /g/, but since the term bʿg does not make sense in Phoenician, P. Bordreuil suggested reading the letter as a Greek lambda. <sup>21</sup> Although the confusion between the two scriptures is attested in other documents, this proposal seems too conjectural to draw conclusions on the use of the term Baal alone as a divine entity.

The attestation on a marble slab from the site of Bostan esh-Sheikh (Sidon) is unfortunately fragmentary. Line 3 contains the syntagma bʿl ysp, the interpretation of which is debatable: it could either be the expression "Baal added / will add" or the proper name Baalyasop.22 The editor notes that the rather large space between the two terms points to the first option. However, given that the inscription is votive (l. 1–2), the name of the donor would most probably be required at the beginning. Alternatively, the element bʿl could also be the last theophoric element of a name written between l. 2 and 3. However, if one interprets the term bʿl as a divine name, it should then be regarded as an anticipation or a parallelism with l. 4 mentioning Eshmun. The isolated mention of bʿl would then refer to the sudden explicit mention of Eshmun. Moreover, the equivalence between Eshmun and the bʿl of Sidon seems very probable, as suggested in other documents such as the Eshmunazor II sarcophagus.23

This sarcophagus bears the second occurrence from Sidon of the element bʿl. L. 14 displays a feature that in the tophet of Carthage, for instance, would become very typical although reversed in the order of its elements, consisting in a couple of gods, where a specific epithet of the goddess refers to the god with the term bʿl: bt lbʿl ṣdn wbt lʿštrt šm bʿl. In this case, just like the thousands of others for the Tophet,<sup>24</sup> it is obvious that the bʿl mentioned is bʿl ṣdn (and bʿl ḥmn in Carthage). For the sake of economy, a key feature in epigraphy, the repetition of the second element (ṣdn or ḥmn) was unnecessary.

The fact that Astarte and Tinnit (cf. note 24) were respectively known as šm bʿl or pn bʿl sheds light on our last occurrence of bʿl alone in a rather late document from Byblos.

Bordreuil 1986a, 42.

Mathys/Stucky 2018, 372.

Garbati 2018, 143–144.

The standardised formula, despite some variants, is lrbt ltnt pn bʿl wlʾdn lbʿl ḥmn ("to the lady Tinnit face of bʿl and to the lord bʿl ḥmn"; Amadasi Guzzo/Zamora López 2013).

Here, one reads: lʾdnn wlsml / bʿl. The current understanding of this dedication is a divine couple made up of a god called "our lord" and another one defined as "image of bʿl".

As for the lord (ʾdn), it is thought to be seen as a Phoenician re-appropriation of the Greek form Adonis.25 That would make the other divinity the former Lady of Byblos, here reinterpreted as Astarte or Tinnit designated as interfaces of the male god and thus called "image of Baal/the Master", where once again the term bʿl would refer to the formerly evoked god, our lord or Adonis. Epithets such as "name of bʿl" "face of bʿl" or "image of bʿl" would then be stereotyped or formulaic expressions pointing to the main male deity (the master or lord) of each religious context, and understood as their bʿl/husband.

Accordingly, the term bʿl would function as a qualification in the divine hierarchy. Interesting enough, only the female goddesses are qualified as something (the name, the face, the image) of the male god, never the other way round.<sup>26</sup>

The use of bʿl with its basic meaning of "master", in its appellative function, is made perfectly clear by a comparison between two inscriptions. The first one comes from the famous cippi from Malta<sup>27</sup> and the second is from an inscription published by P. Bordreuil.<sup>28</sup> Although the marble plaque comes from the antiquities market, the writing and vocabulary of the inscription show several parallels with documents from the southern outskirts of Tyre.

L. 1 lʾdnn lmlqrt bʿl ṣr

L. 3–5 tḥt / [pʿm b]ʿly mlqrt bʾšr / [bʿly] lʿlm

In the inscription from Malta, the god Melqart, qualified as "Master of Tyre" thanks to the traditional term bʿl, receives the introductory title ʾdnn, "our lord". In the second case, where Melqart has no further qualifications, he is designated by the title bʿly, "my master". <sup>29</sup> The comparison between these two inscriptions shows to the extent to which the titles of ʾdn, "lord", and bʿl, "master", could be not only cumulated30 but also interchangeable<sup>31</sup> maintaining, especially when used with a pronominal suffix, their function as a title. The Tyrian inscription mentioning bʿly mlqrt, despite the use of the pronominal suffix, provides, therefore, a parallel for the previously studied case of bʿl kr. Accordingly, if bʿly requires a translation in modern languages, "my master", as does ʾdnn, "our lord", why then should bʿl ṣr remain untranslated as "Baal of Tyre"?

Bonnet 2015, 187–188; see also Ribichini 1981; Minunno 2021. Another possibility was that the term ʾdn refers to the Roman emperor, and then the expression "image of bʿl" could indicate the statue of Jupiter. For a discussion on this, see Dussaud 1925; Xella 1994, 206.

Bonnet 2009; Porzia 2022a, 209–210.

Amadasi Guzzo/Rossignani 2002.

Bordreuil 1995.

The second occurrence of the term in l. 5 remains more conjectural.

See, for instance, KAI 218, l. 1 (in Old Aramaic): mrʾy bʿlḥrn, "my lord the master of Harran".

Interestingly, KAI translates the two terms in the same way: "Unserem Herrn Melqart, 'Herrn von Tyros'" (vol. 2, 64).

As for the feminine form, bʿlt, since it occurs only at Byblos, every occurrence of the term bʿlt in Gublite epigraphy can refer to nothing else but the main local goddess, beside the biased quest for her "true" name by some scholars.<sup>32</sup> However, a close reading of some occurrences33 shows that, in many cases, the toponym gbl did not lie too far from the term bʿlt. <sup>34</sup> In particular, KAI 9 B, l. 5 and 6 are similar: after the mention of the bʿlt, and in l. 5 also of bʿl ʾdr, a collectivity is mentioned through the term kl. The presence of aleph in the first passage makes it clear that we are dealing with the group of all the gods of Byblos (kl ʾln gbl), the combination of the divine collectivity with a toponym being well attested in Western Semitic epigraphy.<sup>35</sup> Thus, the fact that the toponym gbl is missing here is explained by the fact that it was mentioned at the end of the divine list, since all the evoked divinities shared that toponym: "the mighty master (of Byblos) the lady (of Byblos) and all the gods of Byblos". Again, the economic principle of epigraphic texts prevails.

In queen Batnoam's funerary inscription (KAI 11), the king Paltibaal is presented as priest of the Lady. Given the centrality of the goddess and her temple in the city of Byblos, and also given her ties with the dynastic family,<sup>36</sup> there was no doubt in anybody's mind that the title explicitly referred to the lady of Byblos. Moreover, also in this case, the toponym that qualified the kingship of Batnoam's son, Azibaal, is not far away and lies in perfect parallelism: btnʿm ʾm mlk ʿzbʿl mlk gbl bn plṭbʿl khn bʿlt; "Batnoam mother of the king Azibaal, king of Byblos, son of Paltibaal, priest of the mistress".

From this thorough overview of Phoenician occurrences of the term bʿl, the following conclusion can be drawn: there is no clear or sure use of the term alone, in its masculine or feminine form, used to designate – once again alone – the name or type of a deity. On the contrary, the term is almost always part of a construct chain, the second element of which is a geographic entity (a city, a region or a generic space). As such, the term bʿl consistently identifies a deity regarded as "the master/ mistress of" a particular place, highlighting their position at the top of what one could call the "local pantheon". Ultimately, sporadic attestations of the Master or the Mistress alone do in every case refer to the complete designation of the deity, which was explicitly formulated closely within the same inscription and/or was perfectly known by the audience as a formula.

Therefore, the following typology can be drawn in a bottom-up perspective from our available data (Tab. 2):

Zernecke 2013; Garbati 2021b. For the methodological biases, see Porzia 2020, 225–230.

KAI 5, l. 2; 6, l. 2; 9 B, l. 5 and 6; 11, l. 1. The restitution of the entire syntagm bʿlt gbl for KAI 5, l. 2 and KAI 6, l. 2 also seem very plausible on epigraphic grounds.

KAI 5, l. 2; 6, l. 2; 9 B, l. 5 and 6; 11, l. 1.

KAI 10, l. 16; KAI 26 A III, l. 4–5 (see also l. 18–19); KAI 50, l. 2–3; KAI 215, l. 22; KAI 222, l. 12–13. Bonnet 2007.

Type 1: Master of somewhere; bʿl + geographic entity (construct chain)

Type 2: bʿl as an abbreviation for Type 1

Type 3: Master of something; bʿl + noun (construct chain), sometimes also with an adjective (then without construct chain) (also possible hendiadys bʿl of holiness = the holy bʿl)

Type 4: bʿl within a standardised formula (implying some degree of hierarchy, such as in the šm / pn / sml bʿl)

Type 5: bʿl as a title before an established theonym (apposition)

Tab. 2: Typology of the uses of bʿl(t) in Phoenicia.


# 3 Baal In Cyprus

#### 3.1 The Cypriot Documentation

Although difficult to interpret, the data which concern the use of bʿl in Cyprus are very interesting, both due to their variety and their peculiarity.38 Following a chronological order, the testimony from which we can begin is a funerary inscription of unknown origin, made up of seven lines and dating back to the first half of the ninth century BCE, perhaps to its opening years.<sup>39</sup> The text, engraved on the upper part of a stele, seems to carry a curse against those who dare to violate the tomb (the tomb is mentioned in l. 2).<sup>40</sup> Specifically in l. 4, the formula bn yd bʿl w bn yd ʾdm . . . is recorded, understood by O. Masson and M. Sznycer as "in the hands of Baal and in the hands of Edom"; this expression was probably followed by similar constructions ("in

See note 14.

In general, see, for instance, Yon 1984; Ulbrich 2008; Ioannou 2015; Ulbrich 2016; Fourrier 2021.

KAI 30; Masson/Sznycer 1972, 13–20 (with references).

Masson/Sznycer 1972, 15: "1] . . . Et l'homme qui . . . 2].. vers (ou : en) ce tombeau-ci, car sur cet homme-ci . . . 3] . . . Et que fasse périr . . . -ci l'hom[me] . . . 4]. entre les mains de Ba'al et entre les mains de 'DM et ent[re] 5 les mains de . . . ] -'R dieux . . . 6] . . . le [ . . . 7]- nom ( ? ?) . . .".

the hands of . . .") including the names of other divinities.41 The epigraph in question, if we accept the interpretation of Masson and Sznycer, would currently constitute the only testimony in Cyprus of the isolated use of bʿl as a divine name, that is, without determinative and specifications.

Quite well known are the two dedications addressed to the bʿl lbnn, the "Lord of Lebanon", reported on two identical bronze bowls (probably written by different hands).42 In 1877, the finds reached the Cabinet des Médailles et Antiquités de la Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, through the antiques market. To date, it is not possible to reconstruct with absolute certainty to which Cypriot ancient settlement they belonged.43 In fact, the fragments were purchased by an antiquarian from Limassol – G. N. Lanitis – who identified the place of discovery as a small mountain north-east of his city (Muthi Shinois, which can probably be associated to the Mouti Shinoas or Sinoas, north of Amathus). However, while accepting the provenance from the region of Limassol, M. Sznycer and O. Masson did not agree with the indication of Lanitis: rather, the idea of the merchant "pourrait provenir d'un souci bien connu de certains antiquaires, désireux de dissimuler la véritable origine d'objets de source clandestine, et désignant une localité fictive, afin de mieux brouiller les pistes". <sup>44</sup> Besides, E. Lipiński suggested recognising the place of discovery of the inscriptions as Phassoula, about 10 km north of Limassol, and more precisely in the hill of Kastro. According to the scholar, who is inspired by T.B. Mitford and, prior to him, M. Ohnefalsch-Richter, the cult of Zeus Labranios, attested on the site since at least the second century CE, may have followed the earlier worship of bʿl lbnn. 45

Dated to around the second half of the eighth century BCE, the fragmentary epigraphs should bear texts very similar to each other, the structure and meaning of which have been reconstructed starting from the eight residual fragments (six belonging to one cup and two fragments to the other).46 Specifically, the inscriptions represent

Masson/Sznycer 1972, 19. Masson and Sznycer interpreted the term ʾdm as a theonym rather than as "man" (see Xella 2021c); such a proposal was suggested by the symmetry between the expression bn yd ʾdm and the one that precedes it (and most likely with those that should follow). The authors remind us of the existence of the theonym Edom in Biblical names and in the anthroponymy of Mari (Abou Samra 2005, 82–85; Steele 2013, 176, Ph 2). For a different reading and interpretation, with numerous additions, see Puech 1979, 20–21 (the names of Baal and Edom would appear twice in the text). Cf. also Lipiński 1995, 316–318; Lipiński 2004, 43–46, who admits the presence of Baal and Edom in the text. ʾdm is understood as "man" in TSSI III, 12. In turn, P. Xella has proposed to recognise in ʾdm the goddess Adamma, especially common in Anatolia during the 2nd millennium: Xella 1999, 26–27.

CIS I, 5; KAI 31; TSSI III, 17; Masson/Sznycer 1972, 77–78; Sznycer 1985; Lipiński 2004, 46–51; Yon 2004, 51–52, n. 34; TSSI III, 67–68, n. 17; Matthäus 2010; Cannavò 2011, 300–301, I C 4 (with previous references); Steele 2013, 231–234 (Ph 6); Steele 2018, 74–75.

See specifically Masson 1985.

Masson/Sznycer 1972, 78.

Lipiński 1983, 209–211 and Lipiński 1995, 306–308, with bibliography.

In Cannavò 2011, 300–301, I C 4, with bibliography, just to cite one of the most recent studies, the text is translated as follows: "a+b... ] . . . gouverneur de Qarthadasht, serviteur de Hiram, roi des Sidoniens ceci a donné à Baal du Liban, son seigneur, en cuivre de la meilleure qualité . . . [ . . .". See

two analogous dedications addressed to the Lord of Lebanon. In the texts, the dedicant qualifies himself as governor (skn) – "servant of Hiram, king of the Sidonians" <sup>47</sup> – of qrtḥdšt ("New City"),<sup>48</sup> while the objects offered, that is, the cups, are defined as "copper/bronze first fruits" or "in excellent copper/bronze quality". <sup>49</sup> This expression has been interpreted as a sort of tax paid to the temple of bʿl lbnn: according to C. Grottanelli in particular, "apparently, this metal was the 'first', or the 'best' part of the yield of one or more copper mines or foundries or the like". <sup>50</sup> It is therefore possible that the sacred place was built next to an area of mines and/or was in some way linked to mining and trading activities.<sup>51</sup>

Little can be said about the divine recipient of the dedications, mentioned only in these documents.52 J.C.L. Gibson suggested reading the sequence bʿl lbnn as the title of (a?) Baal, to be understood as the principal deity of the pantheon of Tyre.53 C. Grottanelli, instead, proposed thinking of the god as analogous to figures such as Baal Hammon and Baal Saphon,54 the first interpreted by the scholar as the Baal of Mount Amanus.55 Attractive but hypothetical, then, is Lipiński's proposal of a correspondence between the Baal of Lebanon and Hadad of Lebanon, whose name is attested on an altar of the Roman-Imperial age from a temple on the Janiculum (Rome).56 Finally, Puech identifies the deity with Baal Shamim, without, however, providing sufficient and solid arguments.57

All in all, the identifications of bʿl lbnn presented so far remain doubtful and highly hypothetical. At present, following Grottanelli's opinion, the only thing that can

also Puech 2009, 396, who translates ". . . ]s gouverneur/roi de Qartḥadašt, serviteur de Ḥirom, roi de Sidon. (Il) a donné ceci au Ba'al du Liban, son seigneur, en prémices du cuivre des fon[deurs."

It is likely Hiram II, who reigned over Tyre between 738 and 730 BCE (Cannavò 2015, 149). According to E. Lipiński, the inscriptions could be dated to ca. 780 BCE; as rightly remarked by P.M. Steele, however, "this would (. . .) suggest that another king with the name Hiram (of whom all other traces have been lost) reigned in Tyre at this time" (Steele 2013, 232). On the other hand, H. Matthäus (2010) showed that the original containers, on which the inscriptions are engraved, belonged to a wellknown typology in Cyprus in the Geometric and Archaic age; this would confirm the identity of the aforementioned sovereign with Hiram II (and therefore the dedication of the cups within his reign).

The "New City" is perhaps Kition, but the discussion is still open. On this issue, among others, see Lipiński 1983 (who identifies it with Limassol); Yon 2004, 19–22 (who prefers Kition); Cannavò 2015, 149–150 (Kition).

M.G. Amadasi translates this as "in qualità di primizie del bronzo" (Amadasi Guzzo 2003, 50).

Grottanelli 1988, 246; cf. Grottanelli 1991, 244–248 and Amadasi Guzzo 2003, 50.

Cf. the prudent Zamora López 2015, 31–32.

Garbati 2021a.

TSSI III, 68.

Grottanelli 1991, 245.

Baal Hammon and Baal Saphon are cited together in an inscription from Tyre: Bordreuil 1986b; Bonnet 1987; on Baal Hammon, see Xella 2010 who interprets ḥmn as "chapel", "canopy".

Lipiński 1995, 307–308. In this regard, however, Allen has stated that "considering Hadad's association with Baal in the second and first millennia BCE, the identification of Baal-Lebanon and Hadad-Lebanon is reasonable, but not definitive considering the huge chronological gap" (Allen 2015, 233). Puech 2009, 397.

be accepted with some degree of certainty is that the god should be conceived as a mountain divinity, possibly owning cosmic qualities. After all, cults of gods linked to natural places are well attested in Phoenicia;<sup>58</sup> this feature is mentioned in Philo of Byblos' Phoenician cosmogony involving four characters of superhuman dimensions, from which the mountains they ruled over took their names (Cassios, Libanos, Antilibanos, and Brathy).<sup>59</sup>

Moving on with the available documents from Cyprus, the short epigraph CIS I 41, of unknown provenance but which was seen in 1873 by P. Schröder in Larnaca at D. Pierides, is also difficult to interpret.60 The text, dating back to the fourth or third century BCE,61 is very fragmentary and might mention a god called bʿl mrpʾ, commonly interpreted as a figure with therapeutic qualities, a "Lord healer" or a "Lord of healing". 62 According to some reconstructions (as in the CIS), the epigraph should close with the blessing formula k šmʿ ql ybrk ("since he has heard [his] voice, bless him"), of which only the initial k is preserved.63 E. Lipiński, however, has cast doubt on this restitution:64 k would have been part of the epiclesis of bʿl mrpʾk, with mrpʾk to be understood as a toponym, maybe the name of a mountain.65

A much more recent acquisition (1990) is the existence in Cyprus of a cult devoted to bʿl ʿz, "Baal Oz", "Lord of the strength/might", <sup>66</sup> whose figure seems to be intertwined with that of other gods of the island. This deity is known only from a 5-line dedicatory and commemorative inscription from Kition, possibly from the Bamboula area.67 The text, engraved on a block of local limestone that was the base of a monument (now lost), records the offering to the divinity of a "trophy" by Milkyaton, "king of Kition and Idalion", in his first year of reign (392/391 BCE).68 As the inscription explicitly re-

Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, 38.

Lipiński 1995, 308–309.

In Carthage, the inscription CIS I, 3914 = KAI 81 records a dedication to Astarte and Tinnit blbnn, "in Lebanon".

Apud Eus. PE I.10.9 (E.H. Gifford 1903).

The inscription is generally believed to come from Kition: Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977 (A 26, 36–38).

Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, A 26, 36 (fourth century BCE); Lipiński 1995, 308 (third century BCE).

The epiclesis mrpʾ is traced back to rpʾ, "to heal, to cure" (DNWSI, II, 1081–1082; s.v. rp'). Cf. Vattioni 1959, 1012; Astour 1967, 239; de Moor 1976, 329; Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, A 26, 38; Puech 1986, 337; Spronk 1986, 174; Xella 2021b. J. Yogev (2021, 114–115), recalling a hypothesis by Vattioni, recently remarked that the term mrpʾ can be referred to the name of a Phoenician month.

The scholar does not exclude that this Baal is to be compared to Zeus Orompatas, known from a Greek dedication from Amathus addressed by a priestess (of the god) to the Cypriot Goddess (Lipiński 1995, 308–309).

DNWSI, s.v., ʿz, 835. Recently on the god, Bianco 2017, 150–56 and 2021; cf. Amadasi Guzzo 2021a.

Yon/Sznycer 1991; KAI 288. Cf. Sznycer 2001; Mosca 2006; Mosca 2009; Amadasi Guzzo 2015, 34–36.

According to Amadasi 2021b, 156, the text says: "Questo trofeo (è ciò) che ha dato/hanno dato il re Milkyaton re di Kition e di Idalion, figlio di Baʿlrom, e tutto il popolo di Kition al loro signore a Baʿl

calls, the donation, made in the name of the sovereign and of all the "people of Kition", followed the victory of Milkyaton over his enemies – not specifically named – and their allies (the "Paphians"); the victory, according to the text, was guaranteed by the strength, ʿz, that the god gave them.<sup>69</sup> Based on the opinion of Yon and Sznycer, the battle mentioned in the epigraph should be identified with the clash that, in 392 BCE, saw Evagoras of Salamis contrasted with some Cypriot centres (Amathus, Soli and Kition).70 Moreover, Milkyaton could have earned the title of king of Kition and Idalion thanks to that victory, thus becoming the founder of a new dynasty (his father does not bear any royal title): in the words of Yon and Sznycer, "il apparaît probable, ou du moins possible, que Milkyatôn, qui n'était pas fils de roi, ait pris le pouvoir à Kition en se portant à la tête de la résistance à Évagoras, en remportant la victoire décisive, que décrit et exalte le texte phénicien ici examiné, en érigeant un imposant trophée, symbole de la victoire. Ainsi, s'expliquerait également le soin constant du roi à associer à sa victoire 'tout le peuple de Kition'". 71

With regard to Baal Oz, which Milkyaton, in the text, defines as "his god", different hypotheses of identification have been suggested. P. Xella, for example, followed by S. Ribichini, proposed to recognise Reshef (h)mkl worshipped in Idalion and called there, in Greek, Apollo Amyklos.<sup>72</sup> Such a proposal was founded on the possibility that Milkyaton's victory over Evagoras was also celebrated in an epigraph from Idalion, engraved on the base of a statue and bearing an offering to Reshef mkl. <sup>73</sup> Thus, using Xella's words, "on comprendrait très mal les raisons d'une telle dédicace à Rašap-MKL avec une allusion explicite à cet événement (i.e. the battle against Evagoras) (. . .) si le destinataire et le deus ex machina de la célèbre victoire n'étaient pas le même personnage". <sup>74</sup> After all, Reshef is a good candidate to be defined as "Lord of Strength/ Might": the available data, in fact, "nous montrent qu'il s'agit d'un dieu belliqueux et

della forza, là dove uscirono (lett. nel loro uscire) // i nostri nemici e i loro alleati, i Pafii, per darci battaglia, nel giorno . . . del mese di ZYB dell'anno 1 del suo regno su Kition e Idalion. E uscì // contro di loro l'esercito (?) degli uomini di Kition per dar loro battaglia in questo luogo, proprio in quel giorno. E ha dato a me e a tutto il popolo di Kition // Baʿl della forza forza e vittoria su tutti i nostri nemici e i loro alleati, i Pafii. E ho eretto, io e tutto il popolo di Kition, questo trofeo // per Ba'l della forza mio signore, poiché ha ascoltato la loro voce; li benedica!". On Milkyaton, see Minunno 2018.

See also Mosca 2006, 192 ("And Baal 'Oz gave to me and to all the people of Kition po[wer] and victory over all our enemies and over their allies the Paphians").

Diod. 14.98.1–4. On Evagoras, see Yon 2018. P.G. Mosca (2009, 347) remains cautious on the identification of the enemies of Milkyaton mentioned in the text.

Yon/Sznycer 1991, 821.

Xella 1993; Ribichini 2018.

CIS I 90. The affinities with CIS I 91, also in the phraseology, were first noted by M. Sznycer (Yon/ Sznycer 1991, 817–818).

Xella 1993, 66.

redoutable, terriblement efficace dans sa capacité d'exterminer avec les armes qui lui sont propres (surtout l'arc et la flèche)". 75

Diversely, as suggested by E. Lipiński and, with more detailed arguments, by M.G. Amadasi, Baal Oz should be recognised in the bʿl kty, the "Lord of Kition", another topical Baal in Cyprus, which can be added to the previous ones.<sup>76</sup> This theonym appears on the shoulder of a jug of the fifth-fourth century BCE from Temple 1 of Kition-Kathari<sup>77</sup> and on an unpublished ostrakon from Idalion.<sup>78</sup> Lipiński has also assumed its presence in a very fragmentary text from Kition (Batsalos?).79 According to this second interpretation, bʿl ʿz should be understood as a specific warrior manifestation of a divinity with poliadic features.80

Two other testimonies have been ascribed to the cult of the Lord of Kition. Albeit very hypothetically, J.S. Smith<sup>81</sup> suggested recognising him under the enigmatic Baal Hor (Ba-il-har-ri), known thanks to the famous stele of Sargon II (707 BCE) found in Kition, and in the substantive mqnbʿl, contained in the epigraph D32 (from the early fifth century BCE) edited by M.G. Amadasi and V. Karageorghis.<sup>82</sup> As far as the stele is concerned, the god in question would be associated with a mountain as "Lord of Mount Hor". <sup>83</sup> Both references, however, are questionable. First of all, the expression Ba-il-har-ri is commonly understood to be an indication of the mountain in which, or in front of which, the stele itself would have been erected.<sup>84</sup> Secondly, the epigraph D32 rather records the simple presence of the substantive bʿl in the theophoric name mqnbʿl (which means "property of bʿl").

The last testimony that we can associate with the cult of some bʿl in Cyprus is constituted by a short epigraph, now lost, hypothetically coming from Kition and originally reported (painted?) on an amphora. The document, of unspecified date and origin, according to A. Palma di Cesnola, was found in a tomb southwest of Larnaca.85 It bears the sequence blḥmn, which could be read as the name of the god Baal Ham-

Xella 1993, 68. On Reshef, see Lipiński 2009; Münnich 2013; Niehr 2021.

Lipiński 1995, 315–316; Amadasi Guzzo 2015; cf. also Amadasi Guzzo 2007, 198–199 and Amadasi Guzzo/Zamora López 2016, 191.

From bothros 6A: Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, D37, 170–171. M.G. Amadasi does not exclude that the Baal of Kition could be Melqart (Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, 171, no. 1).

Amadasi Guzzo 2015, 35.

Lipiński 1995, 315. The text is in Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, A 4, 18–19.

Following the proposal of M.G. Amadasi, the reference to Reshef mkl suggested by Xella would not be persuasive, given, in particular, the distinctly local character of that god: the link with Idalion would limit the possibility of seeing him as the protector of Kition (cf. infra).

Smith 2009, 69.

Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, 166.

Lipiński 2004, 51–55.

Tadmor 1996; Radner 2010, in particular 432–433; cf. also Merrillees 2016.

Palma di Cesnola 1882, 245, fig. 231; Masson/Sznycer 1972, 115–116; Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, F 5, 187–188.

mon (bʿl ḥmn, with the fall of ayin), known in the Levant and widespread above all in the Phoenician West, especially in those contexts conventionally called tophets.<sup>86</sup> However, the reading of the text depends strictly on the drawing published by Palma di Cesnola, which seems rather problematic.87 It cannot be excluded that an anthroponym may be recognised in the sequence (also considering the type of support).88

#### 3.2 The Baalim of Cyprus: Aspects and Problems

At this point, it is possible to summarise the information collected and to highlight the most evident issues, especially with reference to some specific texts. The documentation, first of all, which is mostly concentrated in Kition (with some doubts and with the exception of the dedication to the bʿl lbnn) covers a rather wide period, which starts from the ninth and stretches to the fourth-third century BCE. Within this period, the data shows an extensive use of the term bʿl on the island, since it appears in at least six epigraphs in different forms:


Considered together, the materials raise several problems. In general, they show a rather complex picture within which the reconstruction of the various Baals' physionomy and functions remains difficult. However, three aspects emerge quite clearly. First, the use of the substantive bʿl as a divine onomastic element occurs mostly in composed formulas (for instance bʿl ʿz or bʿl kty). The data, therefore, seem to point to the absence of the cult addressed to an unqualified god "Baal" on the island. Secondly, it remains hard to understand whether, and possibly in which texts, bʿl, in the common formula used in Cyprus, that is bʿl + determinative, constituted the qualification of a god with a diverse name or if it can be considered a theonym (but, as we are

Xella 1991; Garbati 2013; Xella 2021a. About the tophet, see Xella 2013. Cf. also D'Andrea 2018; Ribichini 2020; Garbati 2022, 85–116; Garnand 2022. The possible mention of Baal Hammon in the inscription could find a confirmation in the presence, recorded by Palma di Cesnola, of the remains of a cremated infant inside the amphora, which would bring us back to the tophets, in which the cult of the god found its privileged expression in the West.

Masson/Sznycer 1972, 115–116; Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, 187–188 (188: "il faut remarquer [. . .] que la fidélité de la copie est assez incertaine)".

M.G. Amadasi, however, underlined that bʿlḥmn "n'apparaît jamais, en effet, à ce qu'il semble, dans sa forme entière comme élément de noms propres théophores" (Guzzo Amadasi/Karageorghis 1977, 188).

going to see, it must be admitted that the borders between the two can remain very fluid and the function of an onomastic sequence, such as bʿl + . . ., strictly depended on the context of use). Last, but certainly not least, the texts show the spread of various "Baalim" on the island; however, as emerged with the case of Baal Oz, it cannot be taken for granted that these were always different figures: some of the onomastic formulas may have originally referred to the same entity (cf. infra).

There is no solution at hand for any of the three problems; we can however try to propose some reflections. Starting from the first question, the possibility of theorising the actual presence of a cult dedicated to a god called "Baal" in Cyprus strictly depends on the way in which one chooses to interpret and consider the "isolated" bʿl contained in the ninth century fragmentary, funerary, inscription. Apparently, the noun would seem to constitute a nominal unit in the text. However, it could also be understood as an abbreviation of an original form of bʿl + determinative. In this second case, the mention of bʿl alone may have been useful to maintain the structural symmetry of the text, particularly in the curse formula ("in the hands of Baal and in the hands of Edom . . . [?]").

As for the second and third questions – which can be addressed together – the nature and extent of the problems are well exemplified by the case of Baal Oz, the "Lord of Strength/Might", and, together with this, of the Baal kty, the "Lord of Kition". As mentioned above, the expression bʿl ʿz has alternatively been ascribed to Reshef (h) mkl, worshipped in Idalion, or to Baal kty, probably poliadic at Kition (as the name would seem to indicate). Indeed, the reading of the formula bʿl ʿz as the qualification of a deity is very likely: in the inscription from Kition, the term ʿz directly recalls what the god granted to Milkyaton and his people to obtain the victory ("and Baal Oz has given me and to all the people of Kition strength"). Following the noun bʿl, therefore, the term ʿz appears to have been forged ad hoc for a specific cult circumstance (the celebration of the victory):<sup>89</sup> a certain aspect/function of the divinity – the "strength" and the fact of granting it – would have been exalted and formalised in the specific occasion of worship.

Now, between the two possibilities suggested – Baal Oz to be identified with Reshef (h)mkl or with the Baal of Kition – the second is perhaps to be privileged. In the first place, in Kition, the victory would have been commemorated by Milkyaton by giving the right honours to the god who was actually in charge of defending the city from its enemies: the bʿl kty. <sup>90</sup> In the second place, following the indications of M.G. Amadasi, the possible reference to the battle against Evagoras in the text from Idalion, dedicated to Reshef mkl, can be explained with Milkyaton's desire to commemorate the victory outside Kition; the sovereign, after all, was defined as "King of

See Amadasi Guzzo 2021a, 51.

It is useful to remind that Alexander of Ephesus, referring through Stephen of Byzantium to the mythical origins of Kition, speaks of a certain Belos, a Greek transcription of bʿl, to which Kition (and Lapethos) belonged (Lloyd-Jones/Parsons 1983, Steph. Byz. Fr. 34 (14–15); in Virgil, instead, Belos is the father of Dido (Verg. Aen. 1.621–622).

Kition and Idalion". In this case, however, the king preferred to address the celebration to the greater local divinity, that is, Reshef (h)mkl, who was entrusted with the role of protecting Idalion.<sup>91</sup> In synthesis, then, a particular military event was possibly commemorated in two different contexts (Kition and Idalion), involving the two deities – Baal of Kition and Reshef (h)mkl – who were conceived as protectors of those contexts. In the specific case of Kition, the local god was qualified in the dedication as Baal Oz, "Baal of the strength", in order to emphasise the role he played.

But apart from the possible identification of the god in question, the case of the bʿl ʿz clearly shows how the distance between qualifications and theonyms was not unbridgeable at all. As a matter of fact, in the context of the trophy inscription the expression bʿl ʿz was not only transparent – it emphasises a specific divine quality (the strength, ʿz, given to Milkyaton and to his people by the deity) – but in some ways it also plays the role of a theonym: no other divine name, in fact, was recorded in the text; consequently, bʿl ʿz was sufficient – and relevant enough – for the devotees to delineate the identity of the god involved. This sort of oscillation of an onomastic sequence between qualification and divine name directly recalls the case of the bʿl ṣdn, mentioned above, cited in the inscription of Eshmunazor II and to be probably identified with Eshmun: in the inscription of the Phoenician king there was no need to further specify who the god was exactly.

### 4 General Conclusions

To conclude, it is difficult, on textual or epigraphic grounds, to maintain that a god simply called "Baal" existed in the Phoenician world. On the contrary, many gods had their names built using the element bʿl together with a determinative (most of the time a toponym). In other words, according to its meaning "master", the term designates the owner of something, the sovereign god of a particular city and/or territory and, also, a divine entity who presides over specific elements or experiences of human societies (as in the case of bʿl ʿz and possibly bʿl mrpʾ).

The use of the term bʿl therefore is somehow always elliptical and relative; it refers to something else, the object of the property or the benefit granted. From our survey, therefore, we can clearly see how this substantive acquires its full and recognisable

In this respect, the strong link between the god and the city is to be emphasised: in another inscription which sees Milkyaton once again as the protagonist (CIS I 90 = KAI 38), the sovereign offers lʾly lršp mkl bʾdyl, "to his god to Reshef mkl who is in Idalion". Also Milkyaton's father, Baalrom, and perhaps also his son Pumayyaton (with some doubts) are shown to be related to Reshef mkl (respectively in KAI 39 and in CIS I 92, both from Idalion). In this regard, according to P. Xella, the fact that all the inscriptions of these three characters (with the exception of the text that mentions the Baal Oz) come from Idalion "s'explique par le fait que c'était effectivement dans cette localité qu'était centré le culte de Rašap-MKL" (Xella 1993, 66, no. 25).

value as a component of theonymic formulas of the bʿl + determinative type. This type, perhaps the most significant in divine morphology, expresses not only the functional and relational character of the divine, but also its analogy with the human social hierarchy. More than the term bʿl, it is what follows that is essential, what qualifies him (city names, natural places, or even attributes): these determinatives distinguish one "master" from another. In this way, it is worth repeating, bʿl finds its clearest meaning, at least in the data examined (with very few exceptions), not as a divine name per se, but as a constant and shared member of composite onomastic sequences.

Furthermore, what is at stake here is the systematic transparency of our term since bʿl was always intelligible, disregarding the fact that modern scholars would label one expression "theonym" and another "epithet". The question is: why not translate this perfectly transparent word in our translations? The risk would be missing the gods' spatial and qualitative definition: geographical elements, especially toponyms, and attributes are pivotal information not only in mapping the divine, which would be quite normal, but, as mentioned above, also in conceiving it and therefore in naming it.<sup>92</sup> According to this view, the divine, rather than fragmented or splintered, seems to be constructed on a local basis, while sharing the same terminology and ideology.93 The question of the multiple manifestations of one and the same deity seems to be important only to scholars interested in a supra-regional view and more used to theological – and biblical – speculations than to historical-religious considerations. Finally, if our analysis is correct, or if it at least has some methodological impact, we should feel embarrassed and doubtful each time that we spell the name Baal "alone", without pondering whether a translation as "master" would better match the context or not.

Therefore, the use of the term Baal in our academic jargon definitely seems to require a reassessment. We suggest shifting from a general proliferation of the term in its splendid isolated and untranslated form (Baal) to the recognition that the most common use of the term is in the form bʿl +. In the first millennium BCE, therefore, the attestation of an abstract bʿl has to be regarded as an exception, a literary device or a legacy from previous mythological traditions, such as those attested at Ugarit, and not a general trend or a constant.

Hendel 2020.

Porzia 2020, 230–233.

### Annexes

#### Baal in Phoenicia


For this reading, see Bonnet (1993).

The third letter is restored by the publisher and could, moreover, designate the name of the deity or a theophoric anthroponym built on Baal.

The inscription is found on an ostrich egg shell, pierced with a hole at the top. The inscription and decoration are in red. Although the inscription mentions the bʿl gbl, the type of object and its decoration suggest a western origin. Because of the size of the egg (16 cm), Savio (2004, 101) suggests an African origin. The dating of the object and inscriptions remains debated, for an update, see Bonnet (2015, 165–167). In particular, the Greek inscription could be later and the result of a different hand to that of the Phoenician inscription. In any case, the Greek inscription, according to Yon (2004), is certainly not earlier than the end of the Hellenistic period.

The expression [bʿlt . gbl] is also usually restituted later on the same line.

#### (continued)


The inscription continues: ʾšmn [. . .] / ʿštrt [. . .] / [. . .] / ʿštrt hʾdrt / šm(?)š [. . .].

Although the object comes from the antiquities market, the writing and vocabulary of the inscription show several parallels with documents from the southern outskirts of Tyre.


(continued)

#### Baal in Cyprus


The object is a tiny plaque inscribed on the front and back and surmounted by a suspension sleeve which is pierced with a hole allowing a cord to be threaded through it. It is the smallest Phoenician document inscribed and was probably worn as a necklace around its owner's neck. The object was found in the Tyre region.

This scarabeoid forming a ring stone represents a young character, wearing the petasos and the chlamys, provided with the caduceus and accompanied by a ram (similar to the well-known type of the Hermes shepherd). It would seem reasonable to date this intaglio, probably Phoenician, to the second half of the 6th century or the beginning of the 5th century. The inscription, on the other hand, suggests a later date.

This Baal is also mentioned in an unpublished ostracon from Kition (Amadasi Guzzo 2015, 35, note 32).

#### (continued)


# Bibliography

Abou Samra, Gaby (2005), Bénédictions et malédictions dans les inscriptions phénico-puniques, Kaslik.


Amadasi Guzzo, Maria Giulia (2021a), s.v. "Baal 'Oz ('Az)", in: EDPC 2, 50–51.

Amadasi Guzzo, Maria Giulia (2021b), "Formule votive fenicie": in Maria José Estarán Tolosa / Emmanuel Dupraz / Michel Aberson (eds.), Des mots pour les dieux. Dédicaces cultuelles dans les lang uages indigènes de la Méditerranée occidentale, Berne, 149–165.


The connection of this sequence with the name of Baal Hammon is only conjectural.


Fourrier, Sabine (2021), "Phoenician Identities in Cyprus in the Classical and Early Hellenistic Period", in: Giuseppe Garbati / Tatiana Pedrazzi (eds.), Transformations and Crisis in the Mediterranean: 'Identity' and Interculturality in the Levant and Phoenician West during the 5th-2nd Centuries BCE, Roma, 123–135.


Garbati, Giuseppe (2021b), s.v. "Baalat Gebal", in: EDPC 2, 58–62.

Garbati, Giuseppe (2021c), "Phoenician 'Identity': Methodological Approach, Historical Perspective", in: Semitica et Classica 14, 19–31. doi:10.1484/J.SEC.5.129516.

Garbati, Giuseppe (2022), Al di là. Gli uomini, gli dèi, la morte in contesto fenicio, Roma.

Garbini, Giovanni (1982), "Note su alcune iscrizioni fenicie minori", in: Rivista di Studi Fenici 10, 161–169.

Garnand, Brien (2022), "Phoenician Synthesis. Patterns of Human Sacrifice and Problems with Ritual Killing", in: Karel C. Innemée (ed.), The Value of a Human Life. Ritual Killing and Human Sacrifice in Antiquity, Leiden, 69–91.

Grottanelli, Cristiano (1988), "Of Gods and Metals. On the Economy of Phoenician Sanctuaries", in: Scienze dell'Antichità 2, 243–255.

Grottanelli, Cristiano (1991), "Coppe donate agli dèi e coppe rubate nel mondo greco", in: Scienze dell'Antichità 5, 397–407.

Guarneri, Francesca (2021), "Baal", in: EDPC 2, 34–35.

Gubel, Eric / Bordreuil, Pierre (1985), "Statuette fragmentaire portant le nom de la Baalat Gubal", in: Semitica 35, 5–11.

Guzzo Amadasi, Maria Giulia / Karageorghis Vassos, (1977), Fouilles de Kition III. Inscriptions phéniciennes, Nicosia.

Hendel, Ronald (2020), "Gods in Translation and Location", in: Stephen C. Russell/ Esther J. Hamori (eds.), Mighty Baal: Essays in Honor of Mark S. Smith (Harvard Semitic Studies 66), Leiden, 119–137.

Herrmann, Wolfgang (1999), "Baal", in: DDD, 132–139.


Lloyd-Jones, Hugh / Parsons, Peter (eds.) (1983), Supplementum Hellenisticum, Berlin-New York.

Masson, Olivier (1985), "La dédicace a Ba'al du Liban (CIS I, 5) et sa provenance probable de la région de Limassol", in: Semitica 35, 33–46.

Masson, Olivier / Sznycer, Maurice (1972), Recherches sur le Phéniciens à Cypre. Genève-Paris.

Mathys, Hans-Peter / Stucky, Rolf A. (2018), "Inscriptions phéniciennes provenant du sanctuaire d'Echmoun à Bostan esh-Sheikh près de Sidon", in: Bulletin d'Archéologie et d'Architecture Libanaises 18, 363–378.


Minunno, Giuseppe (2018), s.v. "Milkyaton", in: Andrea Ercolani / Paolo Xella (eds.), Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Phoenician Culture, I. Historical Characters, Leuven-Paris-Bristol (CT), 171.

Minunno, Giuseppe (2021), "Adonis", in: EDPC 2, 2–4.


Tadmor, Hayim (1996), "Notes on the Stele of Sargon II from Cyprus", in: Eretz-Israel. Archaeological, Historical and Geographical Studies 25 (Joseph Aviram Volume), 286–289.


Ulbrich, Anja (2016), "Multiple Identities in Cyprus from the 8th to the 5th Century BCE: The Epigraphic and Iconographic Evidence from Cypriot Sanctuaries", in: Giuseppe Garbati / Tatiana Pedrazzi (eds), Transformations and Crisis in the Mediterranean: 'Identity' and Interculturality in the Levant and Phoenician West during the 8th-5th Centuries BCE, Roma, 81–98.

Vattioni, Francesco (1959), "Mal. 3,20 e un mese del calendario fenicio", in: Biblica 40, 1012–1015.


# Sylvain Lebreton and Giuseppina Marano Zeus hupatos kreionton: A Comparative Study On Divine Sovereignty, Between Attica and Syria

Abstract: In Attica, as is common, Zeus is the richest in onomastic attributes. Among them, some indicate a sovereign function (Hupatos, Basileus . . .), but the corresponding cult seems reasonably modest or scarcely attested. On the other hand, some major city-protecting Zeuses, such as the Polieus, the Olumpios and the Soter, also played their part, but not at the same time and only in specific contexts and configurations. Ultimately, considering that onomastic attributes build networks among gods, Zeus' pre-eminence, if any, may lie in the fact that he is the most connected of the gods. A mirror situation is traceable in terms of the use of Zeus' name in Graeco-Roman Syria starting from the Hellenistic Age, when the idea of "sovereignty" itself was translated by iconographical and onomastic issues. Usually, when Zeus appears in the pantheons of big cities, as well as those of small villages, he is the main deity, able to represent the local god in all his power. However, from a small to a large scale, Zeus penetrates the religious plot of the Ancient Near East, meaning both proximity to Semitic features and distance from them, even though judging their cultural continuity or rupture on time is still a delicate exercise.

When dealing with divine sovereignty in the ancient Greek-speaking world, the figure of Zeus surely comes to mind. Straight away, in Homer, he is hupatos kreionton, the "highest of the most powerful (gods)": his "bright-eyed (glaukopis)" daughter Athena addresses him with this double superlative denomination twice in the first Book of the Odyssey, and once again at the end of the poem.<sup>1</sup> But, for those looking for tutelary deities of Greek poleis, Zeus has not been granted this role as often as Athena, Artemis, Apollo or Hera. Yet, if we move from this civic scale to wider as well as narrower ones, the picture might look quite different: regional federations often share a cult of Zeus (especially on mountain-tops, such as Zeus Lukaios in Arcadia,<sup>2</sup> or Zeus Ataburios in Rhodes); and this god is perhaps the most frequent protector of sub-civic

Hom. Od. 1.45; 1.81; 24, 473.

Jost 1985, 249–269, esp. 267–268; Nielsen 2015, esp. 250–252.

Note: This publication has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union's Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement No 741182, Project "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms"). We warmly thank Maurice Sartre for having given us access to the numbering and concordances of the inscriptions in the IGLS 16 issues not yet published.

groups, from phratries or the like (as Phratrios, Patroios, Hikesios, Alastoros)3 down to oikoi (as Ktesios and Herkeios).<sup>4</sup> But maybe this takes us too far from the actual significance of divine sovereignty itself. Taking a step aside, leaving the Aegean area can provide a better view.

Thus, this paper will follow a comparatist approach which will try to mirror Zeus' onomastic attributes in Attica and Syria. Actually, despite the importance of the god's cults in both areas, comparison is not that easy a feat. The documentation and contexts are quite different. The richness and variety of sources in Athens give us insights into Zeus' onomastic landscapes as well as their political, social, spatial and historical contexts, that cannot be attained in Syria. But this discrepancy can be fruitful in helping us grasp what divine – Zeus' – sovereignty is exactly. Here probably lies at least a part of the problem. Is a sovereign god the most powerful? The most popular? The most frequently associated with political institutions – the latter being quite different in Syria and in Attica, and within each of these regions in a given historical period? Whatever the criterion chosen, divine onomastics is helpful in exploring each of these tracks: most epithets or other onomastic attributes – including "Zeus" itself<sup>5</sup> – directly refer to or bear a connotation of these semantic fields. In itself, onomastic richness can give a hint of the importance of a given deity. Following a common approach since Plutarch's Lives, this paper will cover each paralleled region after the other, before suggesting a comparison between them.

### 1 Who is the Greatest Zeus of Athens?

#### 1.1 Zeus' Richness in Epithets

Is Zeus the greatest god in Athens? Surely not. Athena most certainly is, bearing the heavy historiographical burden of the archetype of tutelary goddess – the confusion between "tutelary" and "poliad" being a casualty of an excessive generalisation of this Athenian model.<sup>6</sup> But she would perhaps not be so powerful without her father: their partnership is heavily emphasised by their common epithets, a well-known configuration in Attica and elsewhere.7 Actually, Zeus is by far the richest god in terms of onomastic attributes in Attica – as in many other Greek poleis. This statement is effective in documentary, quantitative and qualitative terms: to the 328 epigraphical testimo-

Parker 2008.

Brulé 2006.

Parker 2017.

On this issue, see Paul 2016.

See Paul 2010.

nies8 we must add hundreds of literary references displayed in a wide – chronological as well as typological – range, attesting some 40 different cult-epithets for Zeus in Attica. Bulks of Zeus denominations unsurprisingly pertain to mountain-tops (Anchesmios, Epakrios, Humettios, Karios, Kasios, Parnessios/Parnethios, Polieus), heights and vision from above (Epopetes, Epopsios, Hupatos, Hupsistos), weather and signs (Astrapaios, Auanter, Huetios, Kataibates, Maimaktes, Morios, Ombrios, Semaleos, Semios) and sovereignty, protection of communities and political life (see below), but also to social relationships (Epiteleios, Geleon, Heraios, Philios, Phratrios, Teleios, Xenios) or purification and the aversion of evil (Alastoros/Elasteros, Alexikakos, Apemios, Exakester, Katharsios, Meilichios, Melosios, Nephalios), not to mention exclusive epithets pointing to agriculture (Georgos) and abundance (Ktesios).9 This, in itself can be seen as an expression of his divine sovereignty: beyond the specificities of his morphology, as the divine ruler of the cosmos, he plays a part in many aspects of the lives of the Athenians. From another point of view, one can suppose that, considering the bias of the documentation – we know much more about the institutional religious structures of the city-state (which we are still keen to call polis-religion, whatever the scale considered) – this richness is the expression of the heavy presence of Zeus in political and social institutions.

Indeed, Zeus was the first to bear epithets in Athens, from as early as the late 8th – early 7th century BCE.10 During the archaic period, he is the only god for whom several different (proper cult-) epithets are attested in Athens. As mentioned before, since he had more epithets than any other god, his functions are, as a matter of fact, wider. As another consequence, he should be conceived as the one who has par excellence many epithets – a point explicitly stated by ancient authors.11 At least in epigraphy, he is the only god to be more frequently attested with an epithet than without, from the Archaic to the Roman imperial period, and whatever the type of inscriptions considered (Tab. 1a–b).12 Thus, it

In the DB MAP, the element Ζεύς appears in 331 testimonies, out of a total of 2209 located in Attica. Then come Ἀθήνη / Ἀθηνᾶ (288), Ἄρτεμις (238) and Ἀπόλλων (214). With 375 testimonies, only the generic Θεός / Θεά (also registered in frequent expressions such as καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις θεοῖς οἷς πάτριον ἦν) surpasses Ζεύς. See Lebreton, forthcoming. For a previous overview of Zeus' cult epithets in Athens, see Wycherley

<sup>1964, 175</sup>–179.

In dedications from his sanctuary on Mount Parnes, Zeus is Parnes(s)ios and Hikesios: SEG 33, 244c-e = DB MAP S#5711–5713.

X. Smp 8.9.

Tab. 1a and 1b compare the number of testimonies in which deities are named with theonyms and epithets, or with theonyms only, in dedications from Attica up to (Tab. 1a) and from (Tab. 1b) 403/2 BCE onwards. To avoid sterile counting complexification and delimitation of the material, we based the graphs on all – but only – the dedications gathered in IG I <sup>3</sup> 2 (up to 403/2, Tab. 1a) and IG II<sup>3</sup> 4 (from 403/2 BCE onwards, Tab. 1b), although the inclusion or exclusion of a given inscription on categorising grounds can be a matter of legitimate discussion. In fact, these fascicules provide sufficient quantitative data to be representative of god-naming in dedicatory practice (widely understood, i.e. including labels on altars and boundary stones). From respectively about 500 (IG I <sup>3</sup> 501–1030bis, 1049–1086bis; dedications and boundary stones from outside Attica were not taken into account) and 2000 (IG II<sup>3</sup> .4) documents, only inscriptions in which the reading is uncertain and metrical ones were


Tab. 1a: Theonyms and epithets in dedications and labels up to 403/2 BCE (IG I 3 ).

Tab. 1b: Theonyms and epithets in dedications and labels from 403/2 BCE on (IG II3 4).


seemed harder for ancient people to address or to refer to, and thus perhaps to conceive of, Zeus without an epithet.13

Focusing on Zeus' position in Athenian polytheism, this first part of the paper will follow two paths: the examination of Zeus' epithets semantically connected to sovereignty (1.2) and then those contextualy associated with an actual role of city-protector (1.3).

#### 1.2 Modesty of Sovereign Zeuses in Attica

A possible way to designate the tutelary deity in Greek is the epithet hupatos – "the most high", hence "supreme": in Pseudo-Euripides' Rhesus, one of the questions asked by the chorus to the unknown stranger (Ulysses) to find out more about his identity and origin is precisely, after his fatherland, who is the highest of the gods (hupatos theon) to whom he prays.<sup>14</sup> There was indeed a cult of Zeus Hupatos in Athens. Ac-

excluded (and, of course, inscriptions without any divine name, such as IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 1560–1739). The graph only shows the "major" deities, at least those who have been given onomastic attributes in prose text (that is, up to the late 5th century, only Zeus, Athena, Apollo and Artemis).

Notwithstanding the many exceptions to this statement, this leads us to the "One and Many" issue, covered in part 2 of this book.

E. Rh. 702–703: τίς ἦν; πόθεν; ποίας πάτρας; | ποῖον <δ'> ἐπεύχεται τὸν ὕπατον θεῶν;

cording to Pausanias, he had an altar on the Acropolis, before the entrance of the Erechtheion, where he received no empsuchon ("animate", i.e. animal) offering, but only cakes (pemmata) and wineless libations.<sup>15</sup> The sacrificial calendar of the Marathonian Tetrapolis (ca 375–350 BCE) registers an offering of unknown nature to him, likely an animal.<sup>16</sup> Just from these two testimonies of the cult of Hupatos in Attica, this Zeus appears to be a pretty modest god, without any clear political, sovereign or tutelary function. In Athens, Zeus Hupatos was obviously not worshipped as a hupatos choras god, an onomastic attribute that was, however, given to him by the Argian herald in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. <sup>17</sup> Only a 5th-century BCE boundary stone of "Zeus Hupatos of Athe(ns?)" in Elea (Velia), the interpretation of which remains unclear, may suggest that he held such a role for the Athenians.<sup>18</sup> But still, his role in the Athenian acropolis, where, as Polieus, Zeus appears clearly to be guarantor of Athena tutelary/ poliadic function, would still need to be explained: What is the Hupatos for? Perhaps he was only the product of an exegesis of the Homeric denomination used to speak to him by his daughter – who is glaukopis in the Odyssey as quoted above, as well as in many dedications on the Athenian acropolis.<sup>19</sup>

In a different context, this observation is also true for another onomastic attribute of Zeus, quasi-synonymous to hupatos, namely hupsistos (also "the most high"). His cult in his shrine on the Pnyx (and perhaps also in the Piraeus) during the Imperial period, attested by some thirty dedications,<sup>20</sup> precisely sanctions a distance, or even a break, with political/civic or any social or collective institutions. These votives emanate from fairly powerless people, exalting a supreme god and naming him in consequence, not to attain empowerment, but simply to be cured. It seems that the less political or social possibilities they had, the more powerful they believed their god to be. This hypothesis about Hupsistos is not extendable to Hupatos: albeit synon-

Paus. 1.26.5. On wineless libations, see Pirenne-Delforge 2011.

CGRN 56 A, Col. II, l. 13 = DB MAP T#654: Διὶ Ὑπ[άτωι . . c.5 . .]. All preserved entries register at least an animal: considering the financial purpose of the document, it would make little sense to dedicate an entry simply to cakes or other non-animal offerings. Full discussion in Lambert 2000, 60.

A. Ag. 509.

IG Velia 6 (2nd half of the 5th cent. BCE) = DB MAP S#13970.

Glaukopis in dedications from the Athenian Acropolis: Kaczko, Attic Dedicatory Epigrams 106; 107; IG I <sup>3</sup> 507; 508; 509bis; 544; 592; 667; 902bis (ca 650–500 BCE). On this onomastic attribute (DB MAP E#793), see Grand-Clément 2010.

IG II3 4, 1239–1276 (Athens, Pnyx) and 1291–1292 (in the Piraeus Museum, exact finding-place unknown). The god, when named (dedications without any divine onomastic attribute can be included in the dossier considering their type), can be designated as Zeus Hupsistos, Theos Hupsistos or Hupsistos – respectively 9 (DB MAP T#4273, 4305, 4312, 4313, 4315, 4320, 4322, 4325, 4350), 4 (DB MAP T#4272, 4275, 4310, 4324), and 20 (DB MAP T#4223, 4224, 4269–4271, 4274, 4276, 4277, 4299–4304, 4316, 4318, 4321, 4323, 4326, 4351) occurrences. But, apart from the space available for the inscription on the monuments, no rationale of this choice appears to be clear, especially considering the gender or motivations of the agents. On Hupsistos, see Belayche 2005.

ymous, the two epithets appear in different contexts, with needs from different agents, and thus with different connotations.

The use of another epithet of Zeus pointing to – albeit another form – of sovereignty, namely Basileus, "King", also rarely appears in Athenian polis religion. Indeed, in the Anabasis, this onomastic attribute clearly identifies this god as the personal protector of Xenophon, as some scholars have already noted,21 but especially in situations of dramatic tension connected to monarchic power.22 But, outside Xenophon, testimonies of a cult to Zeus Basileus in Attica are scarce,23 hinting that perhaps the author of the Anabasis chose this divine figure (via the Delphic oracle) based on its lack of actual political weight in Athens.24

Moiragetes, "Leader-of-the-Moirai" or "Master-of-shares", identifies Zeus as manager of cosmic distribution, among humans as well as immortals. Such a role is precisely the landmark upon which his sovereignty among the Olympians is based, according to Hesiod's Theogony. <sup>25</sup> Once again, such an extent of power contrasts with the discretion of his cult in Attica. Its sole testimony can be found in the highly disputed 5 th-century BCE regulation concerning the religious prerogatives of the Praxiergidai, in which an oracle (most likely from Delphi) prescribes or confirms the performance of a sacrifice to the Moirai, Zeus Moiragetes (and) Ge by this genos. <sup>26</sup> The modesty of this Zeus is not necessarily due to the scarcity of the testimony, but rather on his rank in the divine onomastic sequence. Here, he comes in second place, which may be quite surprising considering that he often tops divine lists.27 But if we look more closely at the type of divine configuration, this second position is less surprising, or at least frequent enough to not be considered an accident and offer some kind of explanation. In fact, in Attica, as elsewhere in the Greek world, combinations such as Ares and Athena

See Pironti 2009.

X. An. 3.1.6; 6.1.22. See Parker 2004; Bruit Zaidman 2005; Bruit Zaidman 2013.

X. An. 3.1.11–12 (prospect of fighting against the Persian king Artaxerxes); 6.1.22–24 and 7.6.44 (sacrifices to the god to find out if Xenophon shall, respectively, be the commander of the expedition, and remain by the Thracian king Seuthes).

The god only appears, with Apollo Patroos and Demeter, in the oath taken in the court of Ardettos (Poll. 8.122). Other similar lists of divine witnesses of oaths taken by Heliasts mention Zeus, but without any epithet [D. 24.151; Din. fr. 29 (ed. Conomis); see also Ar. Eq. 941]. See also Sol. fr. 31 (ed. West), who prescribes a first prayer Διὶ Κρονίδῃ βασιλῆϊ to bring good fortune and glory to his thesmoi (see the contribution of V. Pirenne-Delforge in this volume, p. 199, note 136).

A similar, and even more doubtful, case is that of Zeus Pankrates, only invoked in A. Supp. 816 (see also Hsch. Π 20), probable inspiration of the presence of the god in the vow of the so-called Themistocles' decree (Meiggs – Lewis, GHI 23 = DB MAP S#3038, a Troezenian 3rd cent. BCE forgery). The implication of Zeus in the sanctuary of Pankrates by the Ilissos is not clear (IG II3 4 649, 1470–1496; see Parker 2005, 419–421).

CGRN 24 A (ca. 460 BCE), l. 11–12 = DB MAP T#1046.

Zeus' leading position appears quite clearly in interstate oaths (see Brulé 2005). It is less obvious in other types of documents: in the DB MAP, out of 139 testimonies including at least three divine powers in Attica, Zeus appears 23 times, including 15 times in first position.

Areia (as in the Athenian ephebic oath, see below), that is, the association of a deity A and a deity B with an epithet built on the name of deity A, often appear in this order, i.e. with the deity without an epithet first, followed by the deity who bears an epithet built on the name of the latter. This is the case with epithets simply deriving from a theonym (Aphrodite and Zeus Aphrodisios in Paros, the Damateres and Zeus Damatrios in Rhodos28), but also with compounds including the suffix ‑getes ("leading"), which is quite surprising: the leader comes after the chorus, when he is supposed to lead. But the scheme is recurrent, with the Moirai and Zeus Moiragetes,29 the Nymphs and Apollo Numphagetes<sup>30</sup> and the Muses with Apollo Mousegetes and Mnemosyne in sacrifices prescribed by Apollo of Delphi for the Archilocheion at Paros in the mid-3rd century BCE.31 As in the Praxiergidai decree, the structure of the divine configuration can be the result of an oracular habit. Another way to read the configuration Moirai, Zeus Moiragetes and Ge is to interpret Zeus' position not as second (i.e. subaltern), but rather central, especially keeping in mind that Ge, particularly in Athens, can be identified with Themis,32 the deity who gave birth to the Moirai from Zeus, according to Hesiod's Theogony. <sup>33</sup> These plural configurations could also be the expression of divine family ties, which possibly enhance what is at stake in the Praxiergidai decree: the sequence Moirai / [Zeus # Moiragetes] / Ge likely guarantees the renewal of generations and thus the survival of the community.34

Therefore, except for 6th-5th-century metrical dedications to Athena from the Acropolis, where the goddess is sometimes called the daughter of the great (megas) Zeus,35 it seems that the onomastic attributes of the god semantically designating him as (the most) great, powerful, high, supreme and so on, neither refer to an important collective cult nor to politics. What could sound paradoxical can be interpreted as the reflection of: 1. The deeply polytheistic conceptions of divine societies in ancient

Respectively, IG XII 5, 220 (3rd cent. BCE) and I.Lindos 183 (ca 200–150 BCE) = DB MAP S#17514 and 13368.

CGRN 51 (Chios, 4th cent. BCE) = DB MAP S#130.

CGRN 17 = DB MAP S#5039 (Thasos, ca 475–450 BCE), for which the iconography (the famous relief of the "Passage des Théores" in the Louvre) neither supports nor contradicts the text, since Apollo (left) and the group of the Nymphs (right) are facing each other, separated by a niche between them. Yet note the base dedicated Ἀπόλλωνι Νυμφαγέται | καὶ Νύμφαις from Cyrene (I.Roman Cyrenaica C.317 = DB MAP S#3634, 1st cent. CE). The layout of CGRN 52 = DB MAP S#1 (Erchia, a 4th-cent. BCE fivecolumn calendar) and IG XII 6, 527 = DB MAP S#9241 (Samos, a 5th-cent. BCE opisthographic altar, for which sides A – Apollo Numphegetes – and B – Nymphs – are a mere editorial convention) makes it impossible to choose one order over the other.

Clay 2004, 104–110, no. 2, E1, Col. II, l. 3–4 = DB MAP T#21838.

A. Pr. 209–210 (but see Eu. 1–4). IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 1968 = DB MAP S#6466 (Theatre of Dionysos Eleuthereus, 2 nd cent. CE).

Hes. Th. 900–905.

Pirenne-Delforge/Pironti 2011, 103–104.

IG I <sup>3</sup> 608, 631, 632, [674, 687], 743, 752, [783], 862 = DB MAP S#2157, 2170, 2171, 2182, 2208, 2226, 2228, 2238, 2275 (550–450 BCE).

Greece, where it seems that it was hard for people to conceive of only one god mastering all aspects of life alone; 2. The quite structural distrust of the Athenian polis in autocratic political power, at least from the fall of the Pisistratids to the end of the Hellenistic period. From the Roman Imperial era, and especially from the reign of Hadrian onwards, a rather monarchic and centralised Zeus (re)emerges, in the guise of the Olympian and the Panhellenic. But given that things are always more complex than such a simple statement, we must precise that: 1. The Olympian Zeus was not only important during Hadrian's reign, but also a long time before; 2. During the Imperial period, Olympian Zeus did not cancel out other (especially political or cityprotecting) Zeuses in Athens. It is now time to take a closer look at those major cityprotecting Zeuses.

#### 1.3 City-Protecting Zeuses: Musical Chairs Throughout the Centuries?

Investigating tutelary and city-protecting deities in the Greek world inevitably leads to the epithet Polieus/Polias. There was indeed a cult of Zeus Polieus in Athens, well attested from the late 6th century BCE to the Roman Imperial period, the main festival of which was the Dipolia, held for the god on the Acropolis in mid-Skirophorion (June/ July).36 Historiographically blurred by the well-known account by Theophrastus (apud Porphyrius) of the origin of the Bouphonia (the "Ox-slaying" ritual which was part of the Dipolia), pointing out the harshly disputed issue of violence in sacrifice, the political significance of this cult should nevertheless be justly estimated. In fact, another version of the aetiology of the Dipolia – by far less famous than that of Theophratus/ Porphyrius – given by Hesychius (Δ 1925) tells quite a different story:

They say that during the vote of the Athenians [to elect their patron deity], since Athena and Poseidon were in competition, Athena asked Zeus to vote for her, in return for which she promised him that the first sacrificial animal would be offered on the altar of the Polieus (ὑποσχέσθαι ἀντὶ τούτου τὸ τοῦ Πολιέως ἱερεῖον πρῶτον θύεσθαι ἐπὶ βωμοῦ).

The mention of the "first" hiereion (albeit not explicitly an ox) and of the altar of the Polieus allows us to associate this testimony with the Dipolia. The content of the text is clear: as the result of some kind of backroom negotiations, Zeus grants Athena the role of patron deity for the Athenians in exchange for the seat of the Polieus for himself – and the absence of a theonym before Polieus in the text perhaps reveals that this seat was awaiting its holder.<sup>37</sup> In other words, the cult of the Polieus – thus

Whole dossier in Lebreton 2015.

I warmly thank Thomas Galoppin for a stimulating discussion on the interpretation of this onomastic sequence, Polieus tout court and not (Zeus) Polieus; yet the specificities of such a lexicographic notice do not allow one to fully take the letter of the text for granted.

Zeus – guarantees the tutelary position of Athena in Athens. Other sources pertaining to the cult of this Zeus in Attica indeed confirm his competence in unifying the citystate, even if this epithet also denotes an acropolitan location and bears meteorological and thus agricultural connotations. This said, if the Polieus guarantees the cohesion of the polis, the Athenian documentation about him does not reveal a very active city-protecting function. On the contrary, Zeus seems to have assumed such a role as Olumpios and Soter ("Saving", "Saviour"). Olympian Zeus appears as such in the framework of the Athenian foreign policy, at least twice between the mid-5th and the mid-4th centuries: a provision of the Chalcis decree of 446/5 – or rather 424/3? – designates him the recipient of the tithe of the goods confiscated from the Chalkidians who would not swear the oath;38 the Athenian decree ratifying the alliance with Arcadia, Achaia, Elis and Phlious, concluded after the battle of Mantinea (362 BCE), includes a vow "to Olympian Zeus and to Athena Polias and to Demeter and to Kore and to the Twelve Gods and to the Semnai Theai". <sup>39</sup> From the mid-4th century onwards, and especially after 338 BCE, Zeus Soter seems to take over in terms of protecting the Athenian city-state in a more defensive way. In Lycurgus' Against Leocrates, the orator refers to him several times as a theological reflection of the soteria at stake in this speech, deeply rooted in the post-Chaeronean context.<sup>40</sup> During the Hellenistic period, the Soter still plays this role combining political freedom and military defence, as several inscriptions emanating from the garrison in Rhamnous after the liberation from the Macedonian rule in 229 show.<sup>41</sup> The collective investment of Athenians in Zeus Olumpios and Soter, compared to Zeus Polieus, can also be seen in the properties owned by these gods and the number of animals sacrificed to them. In the inventory of the other gods of 429/8 BCE, the Olympian Zeus is the one most frequently mentioned,<sup>42</sup> and about one century later he was still among the important divine land owners in Attica.<sup>43</sup> The accounts of the Treasurers of Athena and the epimeletai, in-

IG I <sup>3</sup> 40, l. 33–35 = DB MAP T#2256. The question actually arises as to which Olympian Zeus the tithe is to be paid: the one in Olympia (Elis), who received many tithe-dedications on war spoils? The Chalcidian one, whose sanctuary was the place where the decree was published (l. 61–63 = DB MAP T#2260)? Or the Athenian one, owner of many properties (land as well as movable assets), which would make more sense in such an imperialist decree?

Rhodes – Osborne, GHI 41, l. 7–9 = DB MAP T#4332. On this plural divine configuration, see Dušanić 2000; Brulé 2005, 152; Parker 2005, 406.

Lycurg. Against Leocrates 17 (with Athena Soteira) and 136–137 (three times, alone). Apart from quotations from other authors, the word σωτηρία occurs some 25 times (+ 9 times for σῴζω and its derivates/compounds) all along the speech: 8, 17, 18, 39, 42, 43 (x2), 44, 45, 46, 47, 52, 64, 67 (x2), 70, 86, 88, 95, 114, 123 (x2), 129, 131, 140, 142, 143 (x2), 144, 148 (x2), 149, 150 (x2). By comparison, ἀσφάλεια (and derivates) is only used 6 times (42, 47, 114, 128, 143, 149) and ὑγίεια, never.

I.Rhamnous 22, 26, 31, 411, 421, 488; IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 308 A, 311–318 = DB MAP S#3021, 3023, 3024, 15680, 15681, 15808; 1116, 1117–1124 (229–99/8).

IG I 3 , 383, l. 78–79, 269–270, 276–277, 325–326, 348–349 = DB MAP T#2704, 2732, 2734, 2742, 2752.

Williams 2011, fr. c-d (ca 355–320), l. 1–2, 4–5, 7–8, [11?], 26 = DB MAP T#3818–3821.

cluding the income from the sale of the skins (dermatikon) of the sacrificed animals during the period 334/3–331/0 BCE, show that dozens of oxen were slain during the Olympieia, held for Olympian Zeus, whereas Zeus Soter received hundreds (by far the greatest amount).<sup>44</sup> Beyond the difficulties linked to the exceptional nature of such documents, which prevent us from carrying out a real comparison and evaluation of the evolution over the years, the Olumpios and the Soter seem to have been more sensitive to the ups and downs of Athenian history than the Polieus. Before and after the 5th-4th centuries, the figure of the Olympian Zeus was used, so to speak, by Pisistratus as well as Hadrian. From the 4th century and all throughout the Hellenistic period, Zeus Soter held a prominent position he apparently lost in Imperial times. In this game of musical chairs, Zeus Polieus, obviously more stable, seems to emerge as the final winner. At least, this is what we can read from the fact that his priest kept a central prohedry seat in the theatre of Dionysos Eleuthereus from the 2nd century BCE to the late Roman period; those of Zeus Olumpios and Soter were moved during the first centuries CE and were nowhere near as good.45

Looking at semantically sovereign, but discreet, Zeuses, as well as more important ones backing up Athena in her tutelary function, we may get the impression that this god is simply divided between these numerous figures designated by different cultepithets. But, in a polytheistic system, this is precisely wherein lies the extension of his power. Being the guarantor of cosmic and social order, his presence, like water, seeps everywhere, in the form of wide rivers as well as little droplets. Among the society of the gods, small Zeuses are just as important as big ones, since they contribute equally to the centrality of the god in the network of onomastic attributes: by his richness in bynames, Zeus relates to many other deities, more than any other great god or goddess does – even Athena in Athens. Finally, even without an epithet or another onomastic attribute, Zeus' sovereignty or centrality in Athenian polytheism can be shown. Who, other than him, could give cohesion to all the "(divine) witnesses" of the Athenian Ephebic oath? That is perhaps why he is in the middle of this list.46

IG II², 1496 + 413+ = DB MAP S#2795, col. IV, l. 82–83 (Olympieia in 334/3) and 118–119 (Olympieia in 333/2): respectively 671 dr. and 500+ dr., thus 96 and at least 70 animals. Ibid., l. 89–90 (sacrifices to Zeus Soter in 334/3) and 118–119 (sacrifices to Zeus Soter in 333/2): respectively 1050 and 2610 ½ dr., thus 150 and 377 animals. For the evaluation of ca 7 dr. per skin, see Jameson 1988, 107–112.

Priest of Zeus Polieus: IG II3 4, 1917 = DB MAP S#6415 (2nd cent. BCE), kerkis VII (central), seat 4 (just next to the throne of the priest of Dionysos Eleuthereus); of Olympian Zeus: IG II3 4, 1914 = DB MAP S#6413 (2nd cent. CE), kerkis VII, seat 1; of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira: IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 1902 = DB MAP S#6328 (2nd-3rd cent. CE), kerkis IV, seat 5. See Maass 1972, 104 and plan G III d; 105 and plan G I a; 129–130 and plan D II e.

Rhodes – Osborne, GHI 88 (ca 350–325 BCE), l. 16–20 = DB MAP T#4281. The dynamic of this divine configuration could also be read – at least partly – in time and space: the order in which the deities are listed reflects a kind of journey which begins where the ephebes start, at the centre of the city (Aglaureion, Hestia/hearth); then, between the warfare they are about to practice (Enyo, Enyalios, Ares and Athena Areia) and the growth of the young people they still are (Thallo, Auxo, Hegemone),

# 2 The Near Eastern Zeus

In the Ancient Near East, the name Zeus is a multi-faceted mark of power. Despite his mightiness, he is not often a civic god and he shares the protection of the village, the city or the kingdom with other gods. Starting from the assumption that even an incontrovertible fact such as the supremacy of the gods' father responds differently depending on the stimuli, we will present, first of all, the case of a Semitic god who does not receive attributes of protection/power (adjectives such as kurios, despotes, basileios etc.), but who is qualified as Zeus only in Greek public inscriptions and through this attribute shows himself as the sole god of the place; secondly, we will test the case of Zeus Olumpios in the Near East, which is a peculiar product of Seleucid Age, and guarantor of Seleucid traditions, in this sense a sovereign deity.

#### 2.1 Power From and Over Places

Just as for the Greeks, Zeus embodies the power over men and gods as early as Homer, the Near Eastern epigraphical and numismatic repertoire confirms the link between Zeus and the attributes belonging to this semantic field. From the iconography, he emerges as the enthroned god who rules over everything; thus, with the victory in his hands, he fits the "nikephoros" type; the "keraunophoros" type too, as the origin of the atmospheric events; the "ouranios" type, when he holds the stars; again, the "kataibates" type, when sitting on the peak of the mountain and dispensing his power from there in a high-low relationship, constantly present in the dynamic "divine space – human space"; <sup>47</sup> furthermore, he is armoured like the "dolichenus" type, when he is dressed in a Roman military outfit, with trousers and a Phrygian cap.48 In the same way, onomastics paints a similar picture: he is often Megistos, Kurios or Despotes and even bears the Persian title Great King in one inscription from Ṭoul Keram on the West of Sichem, dedicated to "Ares Hoplophoros (Bearing-arms) of Zeus Great King". 49

they (first?) meet a seated (enthroned?) Zeus, to finally walk, in the company of wandering and evilaverter Herakles, in the chora to the boundaries of the city-state's territory (boundaries of the fatherland, wheat, barley, vines, olive-trees, fig-trees).

See Butcher 2004, who collects all of these monetary types present in the issues of Antioch, Seleucia Pieria, Cyrrhus and Hierapolis.

On Jupiter Dolichenus, see Facella 2006; Blömer 2015, 129–142; Blömer 2017, 96–112; Blömer/Facella 2017, 101–123.

SEG 8, 32 = DB MAP S#15718. See Seyrig 1962, 207; Ovadiah 1975, 120; Lifshitz 1977a, 275; Di Segni 1997a, 268; Belayche 2001, 260–261; Lichtenberger 2003, 43. Hoplophoros is an epithet of Pallas in Thessaly (Helly, Gonnoi II 156 = DB MAP S#14894, ca 250–200 BCE). On Zeus and Ares, see Parker 2017. See also Jupiter Heliopolitanus as Rex deorum in one inscription from Berytus (Hajjar 1977, 197).

Nevertheless, the most widespread strategy for referring to the maximum power of a god in the Near East remains the dialectic between high and low, in which the high space belongs to the gods: they rule what happens on high, such as atmospheric events, as well as the social life that takes place below. That is why, apart from semantically related height attributes like Hupsistos,<sup>50</sup> topographical names of mountains and heights are frequently found. The Zeus of such and such mountain governs and regulates the world below and, consequently, mountain temples are places of pilgrimage and/or oracular seats. These sanctuaries were the core of the irradiation of the god's power and the elites linked to their management. The sanctuary of Baitokaike is an exemplary case.<sup>51</sup>

On the slope of the Al-Nabi Saleh Mountain, at a distance of 56 km from Tartous (Arados), we find the site of Baitokaike; only the ruins of the sanctuary with two buildings remain, but a village must also have been built there. The site has not been excavated; its Phoenician past remains undiscovered. A sanctuary already existed there in the Hellenistic Age, while the current and displayed state of the sanctuary is that of 2nd-3rd century CE; and one inscription, albeit engraved in that late period, contains a letter from an undefined king Antiochus, concerning the assignment of privileges, and thus may refer to the Seleucid Era.52 We can follow the hypothesis that the domain of Baitokaike, including the village, was integrated into the Seleucid area and granted as homage to someone from the royal entourage. The epigraphic repertoire adds data about the deity worshipped in this place, who received several onomastic attributes often including the name of the place: Θεῷ Βαιτοχειχει, Θε[ῷ μεγ] ̣ά ̣λ ̣ ῳ [Βαιτο] ̣κ[αικη], Θεῷ μ[εγίσ] ῳ̣τ Βετοχιχι, Θεῷ [μ]εγίστῳ ἁγίῳ ἐπηκόῳ Βαιτοχειχει, Θεῷ Βετοχιχι, Θεῷ ἁγίῳ Βετοχειχει, Θεῷ μεγίστῳ κεραυνίῳ Βηχιχι, are some of his names, with relative transcripts of the toponym/theonym Baitokaike.53 The inscriptions date from Roman times and are all in Greek; the agents are mostly military and, in one case, a cavalry man. The god is so anchored to the place where his sanctuary resides that he is known by the name of the village, but he is also holy, great, the greatest and is always a theos. The use of the toponym that becomes a theonym gives strength to the hypothesis that we are dealing with a cult well rooted in the local fabric, something backed by the inscription of the assignment of privileges. It consists of four different documents in the same bilingual inscription (Greek-Latin): 1) an imperial rescript of Valerian and Gallienus (258/260 CE); 2) the letter of an unspecified king

See Belayche 2005 and, in general on the topic, the whole book Belayche et al. (eds.) 2005.

For an introduction to the site and the whole text translated, see Bonnet 2015, 132–149.

IGLS 7, 4028 = DB MAP S#1476. See Seyrig 1951, 191–206; Seyrig 1964, 9–50, especially 28–43; Baroni 1984, 135–167; Rey-Coquais 1987, 191–216; Feissel 1993, 13–26; Rigsby 1996, 504–511; Steinsapir 1999, 182–194; Dignas 2002, 74–84 and 156–167; Seibert 2003, 365–374; Freyberger 2004, 13–40; Yon/Gatier 2009, 138–143, no. 34; Bonnet 2015, 135–149.

IGLS 7, 4028, 4029, 4031–4035, 4037, 4038, 4041 = DB MAP S#1476, 1464, 1448, 1459, 1460, 1462, 1465–1468.

Antiochus who grants privileges for the sacred place; 3) a text sent to Augustus by the community regarding some practical provisions and, finally, 4) a colophon explaining the composite nature of the inscription itself. The text applies to an entire community, which describes itself as polis. It is, to some extent, a pastiche of the sanctuary's public history and its interactions with kings and emperors.

This is the only inscription in which the great god Baitokaike is called Zeus. Unlike the sanctuary's other inscriptions, in which the god shows different atmospheric and perhaps oracular characteristics,<sup>54</sup> in the inscription by Antiochus the god is the absolute ruler who governs and controls everything before earthly governors: following a report on the energeia of the god Zeus Baitokaike, the king decides to grant him the village of Baitokaike for eternity, from whence begins the divine dunamis. 55 "Zeus" Baitokaike is neither Kurios, nor Despotes, but he is the most powerful and the sole god of the temple and the village, from where his power emanates (katarchomai) and where it takes root. Thus, his energeia, his power exercised on the territory, classifies him as Zeus, namely as the ruler of the place and the worshippers who gather around his sanctuary. Although he shares functions and names, he is not Zeus in the epigraphical data from private citizens, soldiers and cavalry men. He loses this denomination in the passage from the exercise of royal and imperial power (inscription of the privileges) to the daily exercise of the cult (inscription of private agency). Thus, the supreme god of Baitokaike is a true epichorical deity in the sense that he is even named after his birthplace with all the different pronunciations (Βαιτοχειχει / Βετοχειχει / Βετοχιχι / Βηχιχι); at the same time, he is publicly Zeus for Seleucid and Roman authorities and for local ones, since the local elite is involved with the management, assembling and publication of the inscription. The uniqueness (there is no plural configuration in Baitokaike) and public agency of the decree contribute to shaping a sovereign god in the broader sense since being powerful implies neither political issues nor leadership functions, but its contextualisation outlines the profile of an atmospheric, unique, and almighty deity.

See Rey-Coquais 1997, 929–944 (SEG 47, 1932), an inscription dated 2nd-3rd cent. CE which reports: "[. . .] having been maimed, I met 36 physicians and was not cured; I invoked the god and next he prescribed a plant for me" (trans. G. Marano). See Samama 2003, 565; Aliquot 2009, 157. Here, Aliquot doubts that the god Baitokaikes is a healing god. Since the god is not named and the inscription was found outside the perimeter of the sanctuary, he believes it may be another deity.

Revised translation from Rigsby 1996, 508: "Report having been submitted to me about the power of the god Zeus Baitokaikes, it was decided to grant to him for all time that from which the power of the god in fact arises, the village of Baitokaike, which formerly was held by Demetrius son of Demetrius son of Mnaseas (dwelling) in Tourgona of the satrapy of Apamea, together with all its appurtenances and properties [. . .]." The words energeia and dunamis have of course two different connotations: in a way, the first approaches the fame and influence of the cult through his actions, and the second addresses the god's actual power on a local scale. On this connotation, see Bonnet et al. 2017, in particular discussed in the introduction (5–25).

#### 2.2 From Controlling Places to Founding Traditions: What Does it Mean to be Olumpios?

Zeus Olumpios receives scattered cults all around the Near East. As we will see, where there is a cult to Zeus Olumpios there are also other equally powerful gods, even other Zeuses, finding their central place in local religious systems. Rivers of ink have been poured on the spread of the Olympian cult by the Seleucid rulers and Antiochus IV Epiphanes, but no unique answer has been given. Two main strands were followed in the 20th century: on the one hand, Elias Bickerman deals with the description of 1 Maccabees, rejecting the hypothesis that Antiochus IV was a champion of Hellenism who used the cult of Zeus Olumpios as a rallying-point against the Near Eastern culture; on the other, Henry Seyrig, reacting to the scepticism of Bickerman, shows how the evidence of the cult of Zeus Olumpios arises at the same time and consequently he suggests a royal policy of syncretism between the Near Eastern storm god and Zeus Olumpios. From Seyrig's analysis, the policy of patronage vision consciously operated by Antiochus was established until the 1980s, when Kent J. Rigsby proposed that "Zeus Olympius was not an emblem of Hellenic culture or a convenient alternative to Baalshamin; to the extent that a god might serve as an emblem, here was an emblem of Seleucidness". <sup>56</sup> To some extent, we can still agree with this statement today. If, therefore, the reasons of Antiochus are partially explained but not exhausted in the search for a return to the "Seleucid" origins, which sounds like the return to the origins of the Maccabees who dreamed of a de-Hellenization of Jewish religious culture, we can still ask ourselves what was the answer from below to this policy of the origins: did the Olympian cult remain a royal one, free from the local religious configurations? Or was it absorbed?

Zeus Olumpios is attested in the Near East at Antioch, Emesa, in Southern Syria (once at Atheila and once at Anz), near Petra at Humayma/Hawara, the main Nabataean settlement on the desert plateau of Hisma, at Tili, modern Çattepe, while temples dedicated to him are attested in Seleucia Pieria, Jerash, Skythopolis and Samaria.57 The latter are probably Seleucid foundations and, for at least three of them, we are aware of the existence of a priesthood of Zeus Olumpios, connected to the cult of Theoi Soteres,58 while the temple of Zeus Olumpios in Jerash is known thanks to the large epigraphic corpus that dates back to the early Roman Imperial period.59

Bickerman 1937, 36–48, 92–96; Seyrig 1939, 296–300; Rigsby 1980, 237–238.

Antioch: IGLS 3, 1033 = DB MAP S#2730. Seleucia Pieria: IGLS 3, 1184 = DB MAP S#2733. Emesa: IGLS 5, 2455 = DB MAP S#2866. Southern Syria: IGLS 16, 108 = DB MAP S#6253 (Atheila); 1285 (Anz); 1481 (Hawran) = DB MAP S#8361. Tili: I.Estremo Oriente 56 = DB MAP S#6585. Skythopolis: SEG 8, 33. Samaria: SEG 8, 96. Jerash: I.Gerasa 2–7, 10, 13, 14 = DB MAP S#16450, 16452, 16479, 16480, 16482, 16485, 16080. See Graf 2017; Jim 2017; Jim 2022.

On Jerash, see the exhaustive articles by R. Raja, especially on Hadrian and Zeus Olumpios: Raja 2013, 31–46; 2017, 171–185.

In Seleucia Pieria, a Seleucid foundation headed by Seleucus Nicator in person around 301 BCE, there are two rosters of civic priests from two consecutive years: the lists vary somewhat, but at the head of each is the priest of Zeus Olumpios and Zeus Koruphaios, then the priest of Apollo of Daphne, then that of the former kings, then that of the living king Seleucus IV (187–175). In the second list, a third Zeus is added interlineam, Zeus Kasios, in reference to Mount Casius, not far from the city centre. The temple of Olympian Zeus mentioned among the numerous priestly charges may have been located in the homonymous deme, identified as Olumpieus.<sup>60</sup> So, as we read, Zeus Koruphaios, "of the summit", perhaps in reference to the town hill called Koruphe<sup>61</sup> is not Zeus Olumpios, whose seat is the district at the heart of the city centre: this may indicate that in the city the status of the Olumpios differed from the one of the mountain god.62 He was the god of kings and then of emperors, thus sometimes associated with imperial cult,<sup>63</sup> while other Zeuses are engaged in the function of mountain and atmospheric deities, in this case Koruphaios and Kasios.

In Skythopolis, the list of priests does not give the same extensive information but is the only written testimony of a cult to Zeus Olumpios in the city dating back to the Seleucid Age. In Roman times, however, there is no longer evidence of Olympian Zeus, largely replaced by Zeus Akraios (Of-the-heights), and Dionysos.<sup>64</sup>

In Jerash, the temple of Olympian Zeus tells a very different story. The sanctuary occupies a position of first order in the urban making. In fact, the cardo of the city faces it and its oblique position does not follow the Hippodamian plan. Here, a group of inscriptions shows that Zeus Olumpios is the civic god of Jerash along with Artemis. Certainly, the goddess is the one who retains a more local facies, if compared to Zeus. The ostentatious Greekness is one of the city's many shared issues, founded by the Seleucids between the end of the fourth and the second century BCE with the name of Antioch on the Chrysorrhoas.<sup>65</sup> The first temple of Zeus dates to the Hellenistic period and only during the early years of the first century CE some inscriptions emerge relating to the cult of Zeus Olumpios. Generally, temple inscriptions refer to state officials who donate sums of money and/or temples to reconstructions or images of the god; sometimes they are priests of the imperial cult. Transliterated Semitic names are rarer. In Jerash, both souls live together as parts of the public as well as the private. In the same way, Zeus Olumpios cohabits with many other gods, who mix Semitic,

IGLS 3, 1183: a decree of 186 BCE granting citizenship to a "friend" of king Seleucus; the city enrolls the honorand in the deme Olumpieus and the tribe Laodikis.

According to Pol. 5.59.4.

For Keraunios in Seleucia Pieria, see IGLS 3, 1118, 1185, 1188, 1210; RPC IV.3 1953; V.3 2056–2057, 2081, 3938 (prov.) = DB MAP S#2732, 2734, 2736, 2737; 6138, 6140, 6145, 16367.

On this specific issue, see Dirven 2011, 141–156.

If Zeus is the only Akraios, numerous goddesses are Akraiai, namely Hera, Athena, Artemis and Aphrodite; see Pirenne-Delforge 1994, 309–369; Pirenne-Delforge/Pironti 2016, 205–210.

"Antioch by the Chrysorrhoas, the former Gerasa". About the name, see I.Gerasa 30, 56, 58, 69, 143, 145(?), 147, 153(?); Seyrig 1950, 33 no. 45; Spijkermann 1978, 300–301; Lichtenberger 2003, 192.

Greek and sometimes Jewish issues. In the Seleucid foundations, he does not cover anything, nor does he impose himself on other existing cults. It remains a religious experience, originally Seleucid, which affects the whole community, not only those who are ethnically "Greeks". While in the case of other cities, such as Seleucia and Skythopolis, we are not able to understand the attachment and spread of the cult, Jerash gives us a better-defined panorama: a cult of royal foundation, linked to the Seleucid tradition, is transformed over the centuries becoming a cult of local and urban tradition, accessible to the community and, particularly, to the political sphere, which manages buildings, extensions, donations, etc.

The Syrian Zeus Olumpios maintains weak ties with the original Greek deity: here, he is a mixture of Near Eastern traditions, of Seleucid matrix, but ones that over time remain almost untouched by what we call interpretatio. He coexists with other cults and never assumes a Semitic facies, despite his temples serving heterogeneous communities both ethnically and linguistically. In a way, he is a sovereign god, namely a god of kings and emperors, granting power to them and their offspring.

#### 2.3 Contextualising Near Eastern Power

Divine names are fully invested in the processes of translation and overlapping, even if a Greek name is not always the literal translation or interpretation of a Semitic name, as we have seen with Zeus Olumpios. Looking at cases where this kind of overlapping between two or more divine powers is visible, the Near East reveals itself as a hotbed of composite divine identities. Sharing many features of the "storm gods" of Syro-Anatolian origin, he is the best candidate to play the role of prominent deity of a divine configuration. However, this absorption process of the name and/or iconography of Zeus from other deities based on common functions does not always find a match, as, for example, in what Robert Parker called Zeus plus. <sup>66</sup> We could define this as the combination of the names of two gods, like Zeus Ares, Zeus Helios, Zeus Poseidon, etc. In this case, when the names of two deities, who do not share aspects or functions, are juxtaposed, we conclude that here the name of Zeus constitutes a qualifying element, more than a theonym: Zeus would mean something like "Greater God", a deity with universal powers. This assumption fits with Near Eastern data: Jerash reports the greatest number of divine constructions of this kind, from Zeus Kronos to Zeus Poseidon, passing through Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis. To this, we add the priests of Zeus Ares in Pella and the dubious reconstruction of a Zeus Bakchos in Skythopolis.67 In any case, it seems to be a process belonging mostly to the Decapolitan area, perhaps influenced by the fluid use of the name Zeus employed at the same time to

See Parker 2017.

Respectively I.Gerasa 26; 39; 15, 16. For Pella, SEG 41, 1566; for Skythopolis, CIIP V.2, 7582.

define the Olympian deity (Zeus Olumpios) or other Greek features, the translation of Semitic deities, as well as the title of Seleucid rulers. Contrary to expectations, very often in the Near East, "Zeus plus" does not refer to the tutelary deity, but from time to time it qualifies one of the other deities who received a cult in the city. Although indicating the greatness of a deity, it does not imply an unconditional rulership over the places.

We have approached different shades of power, covering everything from the territories' management to marks of rulership or royal traditions. When there is a transformation of a pre-existing deity into a Zeus, as in Baitokaike, his name is chosen because it already marks a unique and powerful character. The case of Baitokaike suggests that the name Zeus may hold a public function, as proven by the usage within the privileges' text. There are many cases of this type, as well as cults that impose themselves at a supra-regional level, earning the name of Zeus: for example, the god of Aumos, deity of a group of villages in the Hawran, who in the 4th-century CE inscriptions is better known as "Zeus Aniketos Helios, god of Aumos". <sup>68</sup> While the God from Baitokaike is deeply linked to the territory over which he governs with his power, on the contrary, Zeus Olumpios shows a different aspect of power approaching a peculiar shade of sovereignty; unlike many of the other Zeuses' denominations, it does not seem to be mostly a way of translating, superimposing, juxtaposing, qualifying an otherness, namely, a Semitic deity's name and the link with places is not transparent. It transmits a set of traditions, part of the Seleucid foundations in the Near East, and therefore preserves his cultural and founding role; nevertheless, it is found alongside the other Zeus' cults arisen from different naming strategies (the various Zeus Akraios, Zeus Koruphaios, Zeus Arotesios, Zeus Kasios, embrace more Semitic characteristics).

In any case, even such a clear mark of protection and, in a way, of sovereignty as the epithet kurios, "lord", cannot be guaranteed to a god forever; indeed, depending on human choices it can shift from one god to another. That is the case of the gods of Abilene, a region of the so-called Anti-Lebanon.<sup>69</sup> According to the epigraphic evidence, the kuria is definitely accorded to Kronos who, respecting Philo of Byblos' mythical account, is the civilising and founder king/god, in a privileged and enduring relationship with the territory. In one of these inscriptions a divine couple also appears: Zeus and Apis,70 two gods showing their powerful influence within the Abilene religious landscape, both as oracular and ancestral gods, they order a man named Nymphaios to dedicate an altar to honour the kurios Kronos. Some other inscriptions

Bonnet/Marano, forthcoming. Cf. C. Bonnet's introduction to this volume, p. 15–16.

Rey-Coquais 1997, 935–938; Aliquot 2004, 220–221; Aliquot 2009, ch. 5.

SEG 39, 1565 = DB MAP S#3767: [Ἔτ]ους ηο[υʹ --- Κρόν]ῳ κυρίῳ κατὰ [χρησ|μ]ὸν θεῶν [Διὸ]ς καὶ Ἄπιδος Ἀβίλης, ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας | τῶν κυρίων, Διόδωρος [- - -] καὶ Κλήμης Μοκιμου | καὶ Μερκούριος Σιμουντιω[νο]ς καὶ Μᾶρκος Λυσιμάχου | καὶ Αννιανος Μοκιμου καὶ Σα[ρ]πηδὼν Ἡρώδου καὶ | Ἡρόφιλος Ἀμμωνίου καὶ Διόδωρος Αβιδοταρου | καὶ Μαῦρος Ἀλεξάνδρου καὶ Κλαύδιος Μερκουράλιος | καὶ Διόδωρος Ζωΐλου τὸν βωμὸν ἐποίησαν | ἐπὶ ἱερέος διὰ βίου Σοαιμου Διοδότου.

prove this multiple nature of the couple, maybe also engaged with health and prosperity. In one case from Abila, a dedication is engraved on an altar with the image of Apis in a niche; here, the text mentions the couple Zeus and Apis as the kurioi: "The year 499 [187/8 CE], in the month of Audnaios, for the salvation of the Lord, to Zeus and Apis, to the lords, Lysas son of Zeno and Augusta daughter of Amathana, his wife, by acting piously, consecrated (this)". <sup>71</sup> For Lysas and Augusta Zeus and Apis are the real lords of the place, not, or not only, Kronos. In the same region, Nymphaios, aware of the influence of the oracular gods Zeus and Apis, considers Kronos the kurios, while Lysas and Augusta acknowledge Zeus and Apis as the kurioi of Abila. Are we to assume, then, that being designated kurios means that the community/ies believe(s) this god to have a permanent and stable control of a territory and that, in the case of Abilene, it belongs to Kronos?

Thus, there is no single Zeus, just as there is not a single meaning for his power. As we saw, he is enlisted where there is need for a divine presence with universal and atmospheric features and regarding the world's government. Nevertheless, where a God is transformed into a Zeus, or a Zeus is added to the local "pantheon", this does not necessarily mean that sovereignty and control of the territory is transferred to him, but rather that he shares this role with other deities, sometimes other Zeuses, sometimes Semitic deities, sometimes Greek deities . . . and, despite the Baitokaike decree, it is not guaranteed forever.

### 3 Conclusion

As we already noticed in the introduction, documentary as well as contextual discrepancies do not help when comparing our two cases-studies: are greater onomastic richness and connectivity with politics only dependant on source abundance, or rather on actual differences in conceptions of divine sovereignty and, more generally, cultural background and social organisation? Yet, convergences do emerge, if not pointing to Zeus' sovereignty, at least in the god's morphology. Albeit in different geographical contexts, the prominence of "Zeus" is rooted in the heights, from where the god manages cosmos and supervises mortals' lives. Of course, this supervision takes a different guise from one region to another, depending also on the type of documentation a given society produces. In Attica, Zeus Epopetes, "He who watches from above", crystallises this "Jovian" way of guaranteeing cosmic, or at least social, order; yet he is a very modest and local god, perhaps only known in the deme of Erchia.72 In the very

SEG 31, 1383 = DB MAP S#3768: Ἔτους θϙυʹ Αὐδναίου,| ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας κυρίου,| Διὶ καὶ Ἄπιδι τοῖς κυ|ρίοις, Λύσας Ζήνω|νος | καὶ Αὔγουστα Ἀμαθα|νας γυνὴ αὐτοῦ | εὐσεβοῦντες ἀνέ|θηκεν.

CGRN 52 Γ 19–25 = DB MAP T#991 (Erchia, ca 375–350 BCE). IG II<sup>3</sup> 4, 1865 = DB MAP S#3120 (exact origin unknown, 4th cent. BCE).

same direction, we find the Zeus Kataibates on Cyrrhus' coins (legend and iconography) starting under Trajan;<sup>73</sup> the god "who descends" from the heights and through an atmospheric phenomenon such as thunder never reached the level of global deity.

What is thus striking is that sovereign Zeuses are never really omnipotent: when named as such, they are not granted a massive cult (Hupatos in Attica) or they have to share the throne with another deity, be it another Zeus, as in Skythopolis, where the Olumpios was even supplanted by the Akraios. In deeply polytheistic religious systems, power is shared among the gods: Zeus Moiragetes only has the back of the Moirai, as the Polieus has that of Athena as patron-goddess of the Athenians; and even the mighty Olympian Zeus in Jerash must share his city with many deities. Thus, the only prominence of Zeus perhaps lies in his connectivity within the gods' society – except perhaps in some mono-sanctuary local communities (a fausse impression due to the scarcity of the documentation?). That is perhaps why, while Zeus can play many different parts in the field of sovereignty (protecting communities, ruling over a territory, guaranteeing politics, holding the cosmos), he never plays all of them at the same time.

# Bibliography


Belayche, Nicole (2001), Iudaea-Palaestina. The Pagan Cults in Roman Palestine (Second to Fourth Century), Tübingen.

Belayche, Nicole (2005), "Hypsistos. Une voie de l'exaltation des dieux dans le polythéisme gréco-romain", in: Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 7, 34–55.

Belayche, Nicole et al. (2005), Nommer les dieux. Théonymes, épithètes, épiclèses dans l'Antiquité, Turnhout. Bickerman, Elias Joseph (1937), Der Gott der Makkabder, Berlin.


RPC III, 3443–3445.


Bruit Zaidman, Louise (2013), "Xénophon, l'oracle de Delphes et la divination", in: Kernos 26, 59–72.


Dirven, Lucinda (2011), "The Imperial Cult in Cities of the Decapolis, Caesarea Maritima and Palmyra. A Note on the Development of Imperial Cults in the Roman Near East", in: ARAM Periodical 23, 141–156.


Lifshitz, Baruch (1977), "Scythopolis. L'histoire, les institutions et les cultes de la ville à l'époque hellénistique et impériale", in: Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt II.8, 262–294.

Maass, Michael (1972), Die Prohedrie des Dionysostheaters in Athen, Munich.


Parker, Robert (2005), Polytheism and Society at Athens, Oxford.

Parker, Robert (2008), "πατρῷοι θεοί: The Cults of Sub-Groups and Identity in the Greek World", in: Anders Holm Rasmussen / Susanne William Rasmussen (ed.), Religion and Society: Rituals, Resources and Identity in the Ancient Graeco-Roman World. The BOMOS-conferences 2002–2005, Rome, 201–214.


Paul, Stéphanie (2016), "'Pallas étend ses mains sur notre cité'. Réflexion sur le paysage épiclétique autour de l'Athéna 'poliade"', in: Pallas 100, 119–138.

Pirenne-Delforge, Vinciane (1994), L'Aphrodite grecque (Kernos supplément 4), Liège.

Pirenne-Delforge, Vinciane (2011), "Les codes de l'adresse rituelle en Grèce : le cas des libations sans vin", in: Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge / Francesca Prescendi (ed.), Nourrir les dieux ? Sacrifice et représentation du divin, Liège, 117–147.


Rey-Coquais, Jean-Paul (1997), "Note sur deux sanctuaires de la Syrie romaine", in: Topoi 7, 929–944.

Rigsby, Kent J. (1980), "Seleucid Notes", in: Transactions of the American Philological Association 110, 233–254.

Rigsby, Kent J. (1996), Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World, Berkeley / Los Angeles / London.


# François Quantin Divine Configurations and "Pantheons": Some Assemblages of Theoi in North-Western Greece

Abstract: The documentary dossiers discussed in this chapter concern north-western Greece. The reflection revolves around two singular divine configurations: the first, based on the "couple" composed of Zeus Naios and Dione, is formulated in an apparently conjugal mode and allows us to question divine individuation; the second, formalised by the brotherhood composed of Apollo and Artemis, allows us to examine the notion of poliad divinity in the context of colonial divine configurations.

In the cases of Zeus/Dione, Poseidon/Ποσιδαhεία, Pan/Pasa, onomastics seem to theoretically establish a parity, or at least a pairing, but the historical reality is quite different. Apollo and Artemis do not in fact evolve in the same space. One circulates in society, logically diversifying and meeting other deities; her more-static-thanhieratic representations should not be misleading: the goddess is mobile, accompanying and motivating a religious dynamic.

In their own way, these themes raise the difficult question of mirror effects between human and divine societies, but it seems that they are above all an opportunity to observe two constructions of divine assemblages that share the articulation of two pairs of deities associating the masculine and the feminine. These pairs of theoi do not constitute simple pairings of opposite genders, nor are they an attempt to express the divine in an asexual manner, but they establish an onomastic and cultic formulation of the divine power that is declined in the feminine and the masculine, within the framework of a complementary assembly that guarantees the effectiveness of the cultic address.

In order to test the statics and intelligibility of the pantheons of ancient Greek societies, but also the lines of force that scholars willingly attribute to them – the distribution of timai (honours) and functions, the process of hierarchisation, often to the benefit of a poliad deity and more rarely within the framework of establishing a local and singular relationship with the gods –, an approach similar to the one used in the restitution of artefacts in archaeology seems to be advisable: it is a question of testing the articulation between the cultic infrastructure and religion, a term which, as we know, is problematic and refers to the superstructure of the domain we are studying.1 Beyond the great theological questions, the importance of which should not be ne-

Pirenne-Delforge 2020, chapter 1, "Religion et polythéisme : des mots aux concepts", 25–57, esp. 54–57.

glected – but which it seems more legitimate to approach from works such as those of Plotinus or Porphyry –, <sup>2</sup> historical archaeology – or archaeology as cultural history, in the words of Ian Morris – remains attached to analyses nourished by the field, a documentary exploration of ancient polytheisms, the finesse of the establishment and the introductory commentary of the sources,<sup>3</sup> in the image of the database created by the Mapping Ancient Polytheisms programme. There is no question here of defending the existence – occasionally considered an essence – of raw data, sometimes defended in archaeology in particular under the influence of digital requirement and archaeometry, reputed to be "true". The documentary fact, eminently in the field of religion, is from the outset the fruit of a scientific construction. At the same time, it is not efficient to consider that the study of polytheisms should be confined to establishing materials that we recover by creating a dividing line between religion and cults or cultic practices, a separation that partly reports on the disciplinary gap between historians and archaeologists, or between specialists of monotheisms on the one hand and polytheisms on the other, and of which no confirmation can be found in the ancient sources. The concept of "orthopraxis" is salutary here:<sup>4</sup> the Greek religious system does not aim to establish a doxa, a dogma, but rather is a constantly renewed reflection on customary practices, the conscious and codified elaboration of a specific field of action. The centre of gravity of polytheistic systems, embedded in time or in the thickness of singular community histories, accessible in space thanks to the archaeology of sanctuaries,<sup>5</sup> seems to be a matter of cultic practice, addressing the gods, the abundance of divine onomastic formulations, the effectiveness obtained by conformity to traditions (nomoi) or inventiveness, and not, in fact, of orthodoxy.6

The documentary dossiers that will be briefly discussed here concern northwestern Greece up to the northern limits of the great Epirus of Pyrrhos. This region is a meeting place between civic and "ethnic" religious systems, in the institutional sense.<sup>7</sup> The reflection concerns two singular divine configurations that can be observed in the north-western Greek field. The first, based on the "couple" composed of Zeus Naios and Dione, is formulated in an apparently conjugal mode and allows us to

Cf. recently Bouretz 2021, or Sylvain Roux's works on Neoplatonism, and Eidinow/Kindt/Osborne 2016, with the critical reading of Corinne Bonnet (https://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2017/2017.06.13/). For example, the exemplary investigations of Graf 1985; Jost 1985; Osanna 1996.

Cf. in particular the works of Nicole Belayche, John Scheid and Corinne Bonnet. On the archaeological extension of this reflection on the reconstruction of practices, cf. Van Andringa 2021. According to this fundamental book, the very idea of orthopraxis needs further work to be better defined.

This approach is, for example, at the heart of the CIRCE programme (https://circe-antique.humanum.fr/blog/fr/) directed by Sonia Darthou, François de Polignac and Jean-Sébastien Gros.

Borgeaud 2021, 180: "La religion doit être comprise comme un retour de la coutume sur elle-même. En choisissant d'accomplir avec scrupule et respect certaines cérémonies répétables et ressenties comme nécessaires [. . .], le sujet réfléchit, d'une manière rituelle et non simplement intellectuelle, sur l'abîme des gestes et des paroles." See also the conclusion in Bonnet 2021.

On ethne and koina, cf. the fundamental contribution by Cabanes 1989.

question the divine individuation, the forging of divine configurations, or even, if we follow Herodotus, the Greek theogenesis. The second, formalised by the brotherhood composed of Apollo and Artemis in Apollonia of Illyria, allows us to examine the distribution of honours and the notion of poliad divinity in the context of colonial divine configurations.

# 1 The Assemblage of Theoi of Dodona

The historiographical fortune of Dodona is singular. Alternately the last sanctuary of the Aegean religion to be found in the north, and the first place of northern worship of Indo-European or pre-Indo-European, Illyrian, Hyperborean or even Pelasgic tradition, Dodona finally became an ethnic, religious and cosmogonic melting pot, in which complementary or contradictory elements, however composite, were associated or confronted. It is as if a properly Dodonean theogony had been composed in the Epirote sanctuary, whereas the text of Herodotus discussed below rather testifies to a theonymy.

Zeus and Dione are the main deities of the sanctuary. The other deities who receive offerings, whose cult is attested at Dodona,8 or who are occasionally part of the theoi questioned by the consultants, are Themis,9 Aphrodite,<sup>10</sup> Apollo11 and Acheloos.<sup>12</sup> Other divinities or heroes whose cult is evoked by the archaeological literature remain inconspicuous, even evanescent or present through representations: Herakles,<sup>13</sup> Artemis,<sup>14</sup> Athena, Dionysos,<sup>15</sup> Poseidon and Hermes. Because of this composite

Dieterle 2007, 198–209; Chapinal-Heras 2021, 107–113.

Themis, another consort of Zeus according to Hesiod (Th. 901), is questioned by four consultants (I.Dodone Evangelidi 128A, 3055A, 1006B and 2524B = DB MAP S#16084, #17413, #16257 and #16736) and she is Naia only once (I.Dodone Lhôte 94 = DB MAP S#17312). The onomastic sequences are as follows: Zeus Naios, Themis, Dione; Zeus Naios, Dione, Themis; Zeus Naios, Dione, Themis; Zeus Naios, Themis.

Cf. a dedication on a bronze votive wheel found in a portico (Carapanos 1878, 47, no. 19, pl. 26–1, building 7, cf. pl. 61); Tzouvara-Souli 1979, 55. The presence of Aphrodite at Dodona must be analysed together with that of Dione, as can be seen in a Cretan inscription from the second half of the 2nd century BCE (DB MAP S#11517); Guarducci 1935, XVI, 24, l. 1: Διὸς ὑψίστοιο καὶ εὐπλοκάμοιο Διώνα[ς] in which Zeus and Dione are mentioned as parents of Aphrodite.

The god is mentioned in several oracular texts (I.Dodone Evangelidi 224A, 565A, 1045A, 1299B, 2203B, 2726A, 2964B, 3671A). His presence is also suggested by the discovery of an archaic statuette engraved with a dedication to Zeus (cf. Lamb 1969, 88, pl. 34 d; Walter-Karydi 1981, 33; Alroth 1989, 76, no. 3, n. 450).

A fragment of Ephorus indicates that the Dodonean oracle advised its consultants to sacrifice to Acheloos (FGrH 70 F 20; cf. Parke 1967, 153–156).

According to Dakaris 1986, 53–54, Pyrrhos introduced the cult of Herakles in Dodona to honour the Argeades. Contra Alroth 1989, 74, n. 444.

Gartziou-Tatti 2020, 89–90 believes that priestesses of Artemis officiated at Dodona.

Pherecydes of Athens reports a tradition according to which Dionysos was raised by the Nymphs (Hyades) of Dodona who protected him from the wrath of Hera and taught him to cultivate the vine,

divine college, S.I. Dakaris proposed to attribute the oikoi of the sanctuary to many of these deities. This interpretation of the naomorphic buildings as true dwellings of the deities should not be dismissed out of hand, but it is by no means self-evident, since the oikoi may just as well be consecrations offered by regional or international Greek states.<sup>16</sup> The only building that is unquestionably a temple is the holy house (hiera oikia) mentioned in the literary sources,17 whose identification by S.I. Dakaris on the field is well-founded.<sup>18</sup>

#### 1.1 Herodotus and the Pelasgic Melting Pot

In discussing Egyptian religion and detailing the gods that the Greeks adopted, Herodotus grants the Epirote sanctuary a fundamental role in his history or archaeology, in the Thucydidean sense, of Greek religion, based on a testimony collected at Dodona:19

Autrefois, à ce que j'ai entendu dire à Dodone, les Pélasges offraient tous les sacrifices en invoquant « des dieux », sans désigner aucun d'entre eux par un surnom ou par un nom ; car ils n'avaient encore entendu rien de pareil. Ils les avaient appelés ainsi [θεούς] en partant de cette considération que c'est pour avoir établi [θέντες] l'ordre dans l'univers que les dieux présidaient à la répartition de toutes les choses. Plus tard, au bout de beaucoup de temps, les Pélasges apprirent à connaître, venus d'Égypte, les noms des dieux autres que Dionysos (ils apprirent bien plus tard celui de Dionysos) ; un temps passa encore, et ils consultèrent sur ces noms à Dodone ; l'oracle de Dodone est regardé en effet comme le plus ancien qu'il y ait chez les Grecs, et il était le seul à cette époque. Les Pélasges demandèrent donc à Dodone s'ils adopteraient les noms qui venaient de chez les Barbares ; et l'oracle leur répondit d'en faire usage. À partir de là, ils sacrifièrent en utilisant les noms des dieux. Et les Grecs, ensuite, les reçurent d'eux.

It is thus to Dodona that the Greeks owe the break with an anonymous polytheism – a difficult expression if ever there was one, since the very notion of polytheism requires that theoi be named in order to be operative –, and the progression to a pantheon formed of divinities differentiated by gender, worship and onomastic interpellation. The transition is remarkable because it is not a new theogony, but rather a stratified

which he passed on to the Thebans on his arrival in Boeotia (FGrH 3 F 90; Parke 1967, 151). Dione is sometimes considered the mother of Dionysos (Scholia to Pi., P., 3, fr. 177).

Quantin 2008. Contra Mancini 2013.

Polybius is very precise on the Aetolian destruction of 219, which destroyed, among other things, the holy or sacred house of Zeus; but he does not mention other temples (4.67.3–4; one of the other passages that alludes to the Aetolian raid mentions the temples and temenos of Dodona and the sanctuary of Dion, but the wording of the sentence does not allow one to conclude on the number of temples at Dodona: 9.35.6). A set of six temples therefore seems incongruous.

Evangelidis/Dakaris, 1959.

2.52. translation by Ph.-E. Legrand (CUF, 1930), revised by Pirenne-Delforge 2020, 77–78. In 2.53, Herodotus indicates the origin of his information: the priestesses of Dodona (αἱ Δωδωνίδες ἱρεῖαι λέγουσι), whose names he gives in 2.55: Προμένεια, Τιμαρέτη, and Νικάνδρη.

onomastic history of Greek religion, the first term of which would be delivered to us.<sup>20</sup> Dodona would thus bear witness to an ancient Pelasgic conception of the divine,21 undifferentiated, and would assume the onomastic "hellenization" of the Egyptian gods and found the validation by the gods themselves of their names. Following this text, Herodotus even shows how the oracle of Dodona is in actual fact an Egyptian oracle.22

Between Homer and Herodotus, something new seems to appear at Dodona: doves and female cult operators. The relationship between these two novelties is a problem tackled by many scholars. H. W. Parke noted first of all that doves are linked with Zeus in Homer, and that the legend of the woodcutter Hellos, obviously the eponymous ancestor of the Selloi/Helloi, illustrates a close relationship between the oak and the birds that address the hero to dissuade him from felling the tree of Zeus.<sup>23</sup> R. Martin and H. Metzger's answer to the same problem is as follows: "there was ultimately a confusion of the two traditions (oak-Zeus-Selloi, and doves-prophetesses) around the sacred tree and the association of the two representative deities of these two currents, Zeus and Dione". <sup>24</sup> This briefly polarised history of the oracle is not admissible, because Herodotus does not testify to the presence of Dione at Dodona. Should we retain a chronological difference between the interpreters (hypophetes, Homer) and the doves (peleiai, Herodotus)? Or a functional difference? Could the hypophetes be the priests who ensure the cult and manage the oracle, and the peleiai the intermediaries necessary for the formulation of an oracular word? According to Herodotus, it is a woman who founds the oracle, but she is at first incomprehensible because she cannot speak Greek. H. W. Parke showed that doves become the oracular source in the literary evidence.25 At the same time, Herodotus' text is at the origin of a tradition that considers the peleiai to be the prophetesses of Zeus and therefore the term to designate a priestly reality.<sup>26</sup> Strabo even states that the word designates an elderly woman in the language of the Thesprotians and the Molossians.<sup>27</sup> It is therefore reasonable to think that the peleiai are the prophetesses of Zeus, then those of Zeus and Dione, and that the doves are the sacred animals of the god. The recent discovery of an epigraphic mention of a female mantis at Apollonia of Illyria in a list of ritual prescriptions, which is probably a response from the oracle of Dodona, pleads

For the whole passage, see Pirenne-Delforge 2020, 74–86.

"Antediluvian" in a way. Some mentions, the oldest of which dates from the 4th century BCE, attribute the foundation of Dodona to Deucalion. As at Delphi, the aim is to age the history of the oracle (cf. Parke 1967, 41–42, n. 16; 44).

Hdt, 2.54–56.

Parke 1967, 34–35.

Martin/Metzger 1992, 22.

Parke 1967, 64. Cf. for instance, D.H., 1.14.5.

Cf. Gartziou-Tatti 2020.

7, fr. Ia.

in favour of the existence of a seeress.<sup>28</sup> In any case, reflections on the oracular staff, which, without clearly formulating it, often assign a genre to mythical-cultic concatenations (oak-hypophetes-Zeus, doves-peleiai-Dione) cannot directly determine the historical understanding of Dodona.

#### 1.2 The Equivocal Sharing of Sovereignty: From Homonymy to Cohabitation and the Status of "Divinity Sitting Beside" (Paredros)

Naios is not the only epiklesis of Zeus at Dodona. Hesychius reports that the god is also called Tmarios, after the mountain that dominates the sanctuary to the east29 and for Strabo the priests of Zeus are the Tomouroi. <sup>30</sup> The link between Zeus and the mountain may be ancient, but it is not precisely datable. In the bouleuterion, S. I. Dakaris discovered a rectangular altar engraved with the dedication of Charops son of Machatas, Thesprotian Opatos, to Zeus Na(i)os, Dione and Zeus Bouleus (Διὶ Νάωι καὶ Διώναι καὶ Διὶ Βουλεῖ).31 The second epiklesis of Zeus is appropriate to the location, and perhaps also to the difficulties of Epirus in the late third century. The religious interest of this inscription is the double mention of Zeus, Naios and Bouleus. It shows that in Epirus, Zeus is Naios, the resident etymologically,32 only in his sanctuary, or even in his temple, which makes it possible to measure to what extent the epiklesis is not only local but also topical. The consultants often ask the god for advice, help in making a decision, rather than a revelation of the future.33 This inscription makes it possible to establish an articulate association between the Zeus of Dodona and the god Bouleus or Soter who appears on the Epirote agoras in the 3rd century BCE.

The bronze figurines from Dodona represent a Zeus Keraunobolos, a god of lightning and more broadly of atmospheric phenomena. The eagle is associated with the fire of the sun and the thunderbolt of Zeus, but also has a kourotrophic value for the young Zeus, and, according to A. Gartziou-Tatti, facilitates communication between

CGRN 40, side A and Gartziou-Tatti 2020, 91. For Strabo, the priests of Dodona were exclusively men until the introduction of the cult of Dione: prophetesses then replaced the hypophetes mentioned by Homer (7.7.12; cf. Delcourt 1947, 54). The reconstruction comes up against the testimony of Herodotus, who ignores Dione, while his interlocutors are priestesses.

S.v. Τμάριος: Ζεὺς ἐν Δωδώνῃ.

7.7.11. Cf. Parke 1967, 15–16 for the analysis of the passage.

Cabanes 1976 (no. 18), 548, and 258–259 for the political role of Charops the Elder and the dating of the inscription between 215 and 210. Cf. I.Molossie 64. The Thesprotian Charops belongs to the ethnos of the Opatoi or Opatai.

Lhôte 2006, 407–420.

"An aid to decision making", as the late Georges Rougemont humorously put it during his seminars on Greek oracles at the Maison de l'Orient et de la Méditerranée, taking up an expression that flourishes on the flyers distributed by magi or marabouts.

heaven and earth, between gods and men.<sup>34</sup> The author also shows that doves play the same role for the adult Zeus by bringing him ambrosia. The bronze snake offerings reveal, rather than a chthonic value of Zeus, a domestic competence of the god; he would then be close to the god Ktesios and Herkeios who protects the home and the family;<sup>35</sup> like Homer's Achilles, Pindar indeed calls the Zeus of Dodona pater. 36 Nevertheless, the main epiklesis of the god, in the internal economy of the sanctuary, as well as outside, is Naios, or Dodonaios, attested about twenty times in the oracular questions. Despite the uncertainties linked to the large number of incomplete texts, some trends emerge. On the one hand, Zeus Naios may be the sole recipient of the questions, but, more often, Dione is associated with him in an onomastic sequence of the type τὸν Δία τὸν Νάϊον καὶ τὰν Διώναν. On the other hand, Dione is very rarely Naia,<sup>37</sup> and she does not necessarily and formerly belong to the group of divinities sharing the same temple (θεοί σύνναοι) mentioned by an oracular text.<sup>38</sup> But it is certain that she is welcomed later in the naos of Zeus Naios as shown in a text by Strabo.<sup>39</sup> Nevertheless, it cannot be excluded that a temple was dedicated to her in the 1st century BCE.<sup>40</sup> Another epigraphic testimony discovered in Dodona recalls the donation of cultivated plots to Dione by Symmachos.<sup>41</sup>

As W. Pötscher notes, the etymological relationship between Zeus and Dione – the name of the goddess is formed on the genitive of the male theonym – forms a divine pairing that is unfamiliar to the Greek religion.42 But 'Dione' could be an ancient feminine nominative that has fallen into disuse. Nevertheless, it is very likely that Zeus

Cabanes 1976, 492, and 592, no. 77.

Gartziou-Tatti 1990, 178–179 (doves participate in the same role as the eagle); according to the author, "l'aigle symbolise également la transition du stade de la nourriture sauvage au stade marqué par la présence et l'emploi du feu".

Cf. Pirenne-Delforge 2020, 202–203. See also Brulé 2007, chapter 18.

This aspect of Zeus is far from the one that É. Lhôte assigns to the god (Lhôte 2006, XI: "Zeus était un dieu infernal"; 429: Zeus Naios and Dione are "dieux d'en bas").

No occurrence in the I.Dodone Evangelidi. In I.Dodone Lhôte, the only occurrences are a very restored inscription by S.I. Dakaris (no. 24: [Ζεῦ Ναῖε καὶ Διώνα Να]ία κτλ) and a vocative address (no. 94: Ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ Θέμι καὶ Διώνα Ναῖοι κτλ in a very singular text; cf. Cabanes 1976, 333). Note that in both cases other deities are part of the college of oracular powers, a rare fact in the Dodonean tablets. One cannot infer from these facts that Dione is officially Naia at Dodona.

Cabanes 1976, 550, no. 24: the text mentions Zeus, Dione and the theoi sunnaoi.

Str., 7.7.12 (R. Baladié, CUF, 1989, 150): after her arrival at the sanctuary, Dione becomes sunnaos of Zeus : "Plus tard furent désignées pour cette tâche [prophétiser] trois vieilles femmes en même temps que Dionè était désignée pour être associée à Zeus et partager son temple".

Cf. the dedication of "king" Zeniketes engraved on a strigil: Peek 1978 and Lhôte 2006, 418. The use of the word naos at Dodona is remarkable, but this text cannot be exploited for ancient times.

Pötscher 1966, 136. See now Lhôte 2006, 420. For Bouché-Leclercq 1880, 291, the name of Zeus' paredra at Dodona is formed on the name of the god, but also on his epiklesis, i.e. on the sequence Zeus Naios, which gives Dia Naia, Diona, which linguists do not confirm.

precedes Dione in Dodona,43 and that she therefore "proceeds" from Zeus. The scholars who define her as a "goddess of fertility, mistress of the waters and of life" <sup>44</sup> compensate for a lack of information with the hypothesis of the ancient pre-eminence of a primitive feminine divinity at the origin of the great sanctuaries; they also draw on the more or less clearly asserted identity between the Earth of Pausanias' hymn and Dione.45 The Zeus/Dione couple surely took on a paredric and matrimonial meaning; but is this an ancient interpretation of the couple? The etymological relationship between Zeus and Dione first gives the impression of a duplication of the divine function, of the differentiation by gender of a primitive divine power. The proponents of a high antiquity of Dione may be right, but they rely on the cult of the goddess at Dodona to prove it: the evidence for the antiquity of the cult of Dione in Greece will probably have to be sought elsewhere.

From the prayer of the Pythia of Delphi in the prologue of Aeschylus' Eumenides to the present day, a certain historiography places a primordial female divinity at the origin of the great Greek sanctuaries, according to various historical reconstructions. The most recent one is the postulate of a matriarchy at the origin of Mediterranean or European societies, which establishes a link between Dione, her daughter Aphrodite and the peleiai. In fact, it is not at all certain that Dione belongs to the ancient phase of the sanctuary, whatever her possible association with the doves may be. Absent or not mentioned at Dodona by Homer and Herodotus, she does not appear in the oldest oracular lead tablets. She is the consort of Zeus at Dodona, as shown by a fragment by Apollodorus found in a scholium to the Odyssey III, 91 that affirms the identity of Dione and Hera for the Dodonians. But she is not an ancient deity of the sanctuary, and it remains unprovable that she was preceded by an earth-goddess, just as it is impossible to demonstrate that the peleiai are her animals, a fortiori when one invokes iconographic testimonies of the Bronze Age and of Aegean origin in this regard. Dione, at Dodona, is not a goddess of birds, which were hosted in the sanctuary long before her, and most probably owe her nothing, and she can be considered a sort of female Zeus.

#### 1.3 A Misunderstood Dione in the Imperial Era

In 1987, Pierre Cabanes made known several dedications in Greek engraved on altars in Nikopolis which attest to the assimilation of the emperor Hadrian, August (Sebastos) and Olympian (Olympios), to Zeus Dodonaios,46 and of Sabina, Sebaste from 128,

Quantin 2008, 40.

Gartziou-Tatti 1990, 183, who chooses the Oceanid.

10.12.10. This text is often exploited, wrongly, to equate Dione with Earth, and to age the presence of Dione in Dodona.

Cabanes 1987. Cf. now I.Molossie 271: Αὐτοκρ[άτορι Τραϊα]-|νῶι Ἀδρια[νῶι Σε]βαστ[ῶι] | Ὀλυμπίωι Διὶ Δωδωναί[ωι]; no. 272: [—]|[—]|[—]|[Σ]εβαστ[ῶι]|[Ὀ]λυμπίωι Διὶ | Δωδωναίωι; no. 273: Αὐ-

to Artemis Kelkaia.<sup>47</sup> There is probably a local reasoning behind this enigmatic epiklesis since the epithet, attested in Arrian, seems to be built on a toponym from the region.48 In any case, in the first half of the second century AD, the two great deities in the nikopolitan union of the surrounding populations into one city-state (sunoikismos) are Zeus Dodonaios – it should be noted that it is not the Dodonean epiklesis of Zeus, Naios, that is being invoked here – and Artemis Kelkaia, i.e. two Pan-Hellenic deities, whose epikleseis marks in this case the regional (Dodonaios), in the broad sense, and undoubtedly the very local (Kelkaia) anchorage. These documents are of religious and cultic interest on a local scale – they specifically attest to the existence of sanctuaries of Zeus Dodonaios and Artemis Kelkaia in Nikopolis in the second century – as well as, more generally, to the imperial religious ideology of that period.<sup>49</sup>

The epithet Dodonaios insists on the venerable, regional and Homeric character of the god, better than the epiklesis Naios, whose topical value assigns the god to residence in his sacred house.50 What is remarkable, as Pierre Cabanes notes, is that Sabine is not assimilated to Dione, as she can be in Athens to Hera Panhellenia: we observe the construction of a complementary opposition between a sovereign and universal masculine divinity – these qualities come to amplify in some way that of Olympios acquired by Hadrian51 –, and a feminine divinity, certainly Panhellenic, but here qualified by a local epiklesis which refers directly to the Nikopolitan sunoikismos. Artemis is frequently present on the reverse of Nikopolitan coins in Hadrian's time. This historical perspective shows, however, that Dione no longer has the capacity to emancipate herself from the Epirote hieron, and is no longer considered the unquestionable goddess of Dodonean Zeus.

Another regional paredra is remarkable. In Butrint, the ancient Bouthrotos, Kassianos, addresses Pan, founder or driver of mysteries (Teletarches), on the one hand, and Pasa on the other.<sup>52</sup> We can find some parallels of teletai driven by some deity, but Pasa, a theonym well established by the reading of the inscription, does not seem

τοκράτο|ρι Καίσαρι | Ἀδριανῶι | Σεβαστῶι | Ὀλυμπίωι | Διὶ Δωδωναί|ωι; no. 274: Αὐτοκράτορι | Καίσαρι Τραϊα|νῶι Ἀδριανῶι | Σεβαστῶι Ὀ|λυμπίωι Διὶ | Δωδωναίωι.

Cabanes 1987, 156–158, on these texts, which are not dedications by Sabina to Artemis, but honours paid at the dative to Sabina Augusta Artemis Kelkaia (four altars bearing the same text, perfectly legible on two copies: Σαβείνηι | Σεβαστῆι | Ἀρτέμιδι | Κελκαίαι).

Cabanes 1987, 161 (epigraphic evidence of a place called Kelkaion in the region of Nikopolis, or in Nikopolis, seat of a sanctuary of a goddess served by a priestess).

It is common for emperors to be associated with the main deities of a city (Camia 2018, 116–117), as evidenced by the inscriptions from Nikopolis.

Quantin 2008, 30.

Hadrian's Olympian and Dodonean epithets also bring together two mountains dedicated to Zeus on either side of the Balkan isthmus, Olympus and Tomaros.

Cabanes 1988; Quantin 2005.

to be otherwise attested and could constitute a strangeness, a play on divine words53 or even a graceful joke.54 This unprecedented onomastic paredria nevertheless takes on a consistency through two channels: the onomastic and cultic pairings of Italic religious culture,<sup>55</sup> but also the Greek examples of Dione and Ποσιδαhεία<sup>56</sup> and the iconographic existence of a singular Paniske, which can rightly and henceforth be called Pasa.57

These religious configurations composed of onomastic paredria, well known to linguists, have probably not been studied enough by historians and archaeologists.<sup>58</sup> They have the formal characteristics of conjugality, and were interpreted or misinterpreted as such, without any systemic spirit by the Ancients, but their creation, whether ancient or recent, evokes above all the idea of an onomastic formulation in mirror form, in the feminine and masculine, of a divine power. It is not, therefore, a gendered duplication of a primitively neutral or anonymous expression of theoi, but a pairing aimed at a completeness that formulates, above all, the extent of divine sovereignty. In the case of Zeus and Dione, jovian omnipotence probably played an important role. Still, let us note that in the Greek cases under consideration – Zeus/Dione, Poseidon/Ποσιδαhεία, Pan/Pasa – onomastics seem to theoretically establish a parity, or at least a pairing, but the historical reality is quite different, since Dione is introduced in Dodona as the wife of Zeus, as Ποσιδαhεία falls into disuse after the erasure of the Mycenaean culture, and Pasa existed but without somehow managing to truly exist.

These gendered geminations,<sup>59</sup> which are not very frequent in ancient Greece and are better attested in the Roman world,<sup>60</sup> are manifested in divine onomastics, of which they constitute singular patterns. Inherited from a theonymic practice that goes back to the Bronze Age, they are re-semantised by the incessant modelling of divine figures. The Illyro-Epirotic confines also allow for a reflection on another gendered divine gemination, which, if not a true gemellity, is genealogical: that of Artemis and Apollo, children of the gemelliparous Leto.

Pl., Cra., 408 c-d. The "All", as it were, must be formulated in both the feminine and the masculine. Cf. Bonnet (ed.) 2021, 367–368.

Petersmann 1986, 81, believes that the duplication of names, or the use of double names, one feminine, the other masculine, is an Indo-European practice.

Doyen 2011, 240–241 which establishes that the feminine theonym means "She who belongs to Poseidon", as Δίϝyα is "She of Zeus" (256). The status of these two female deities as goddesses would therefore not date back to the Bronze Age.

Quantin 2005; cf. Montbel 2020 for a similar survey about centauresses.

With the exception of Pironti 2013. See also Bettini 2017.

Formulation proposed by Gabriella Pironti in Toulouse.

A thesis currently being written by Éléonore Montbel will soon offer a synthesis on the subject.

# 2 Colonial Divine Configurations: Artemis and Apollo in a Mirror

In a certain number of Greek cities,<sup>61</sup> including Athens of course, the hierarchy between the theoi is formulated by a mythical discourse relating a competition, the outcome of which is inscribed in the cult topography. This competition can take the form of a contest, an agonistic drama, the winner of which acquires what we call the quality of poliad deity. A Panhellenic sanctuary like Delphi is no exception, this test being held between Apollo and Dionysus. In the cities of colonial origin in north-western Greece – as probably elsewhere in the Greek world, for I do not believe that this is a regional singularity – the situation is different, because the sources do not testify to the promotion of a main deity, but rather to a thorough reflection on two different kinds of deities, Artemis and Apollo, associated in mirror image.62

#### 2.1 Apollonian Artemis

Artemis is the first deity of the Apollonians. She appears to be versatile and present everywhere from the very beginning of the civic community. While she is not eponymous like her brother Apollo, she could be considered here, like her brother, a poliad deity – according to the traditional use of the expression –, the one who is honoured more than others by the community whose piety she seems to mark deeply, even if no logos supports this idea, and even if she does not bear the epikleseis Polias or Poliouchos<sup>63</sup> in Apollonia or anywhere else, for that matter.

The Apollonian epithets of Artemis are Agrota, Soteira, Adrastea, Limnatis and Proskopa.<sup>64</sup> Four dedicators address the goddess as Agrota, the most frequent epithet. The form of the epiklesis is peculiar, but its meaning is of course close to that of the epithet Agrotera, which is commonly used to describe Artemis in the Greek world.<sup>65</sup> We are used to translating the epiklesis as 'huntress', Jagdgöttin, a meaning which the word indeed gradually takes on in post-Homeric literature, but ἀγρότερος, derived in ‑teros from agros, refers more directly to the wild animals that live in agros and to

The following reflections were proposed in my Habilitation dossier, entitled Investigations into Greco-Roman Polytheism and Ancient Societies in the Central Mediterranean (Greece, Albania and Italy), directed by Corinne Bonnet, and defended in 2014.

Cf. Aurigny/Durvye 2021 whose contributions and conclusions renew the subject.

In Bonnet (ed.) 2021, 356–361, Pierre Brulé ("Athéna-Artémis. Tentative d'esquisse de deux sœurs par leurs épiclèses mêmes") entitles his concluding remarks: "Pourquoi n'existe-t-il aucune Artémis Polias ?" Is this an invariant of Greek polytheism?

Quantin 2004.

In the MAP database there are 40 entries for Agrotera (the search in the MAP Database was carried out the 19th June 2023). See Giuseppetti 2022.

that space itself, and is thus different from both agreus – hunter, according to an erroneous etymology but attested in antiquity from capture, agra – and from agrotès/agrotis (countryman).66 Since Homer, Artemis Agrotera has been armed with a bow and slaughters wild animals but also women whom she kills like a lioness. The dedication to Artemis Proskopa was engraved during the imperial period when a building dedicated to the goddess was restored, and it is the only objective evidence of the existence of a temple to Artemis in Apollonia. Artemis is a watchwoman, the guardian of Apollonia, located on a hill in the city or its immediate surroundings. The surveillance exercised by the goddess is also a protection, one of the important functions of the "Poliad/tutelary deity".

The numerous representations of the goddess compose a complex and abundant portrait that can be cross-referenced with epigraphic evidence. No dedication has been preserved on an iconographically complete stele, except that of Artemis Adrastea, which is atypical since the goddess adopts the posture of Cybele. Nevertheless, the collection of data reveals associations between the various iconographic features and the inscriptions. The presence of a dog, the wearing of the tunic (chiton), the frontal and standing position are not discriminating criteria because they are frequent. As a matter of fact, these features make up the iconographic background of the Apollonian Artemis. The three dedications to Artemis Agrota show the goddess with a kind of spear or stake and the dog, but without the bun (crobylos). These trends allow us to distinguish two iconographic patterns that emerge from the common hunting iconography:


These two Artemis, or rather these two iconographic polarities that distinguish the Soteira from the Agrota-Agrotera without mechanical rigour – for it goes without saying that some stelae disturb this fragile construction and compose intermediate types – do not constitute two different aspects of the goddess, but two complementary cynegetic attitudes that participate in a very ancient aspect of Artemis. Along with the hunting and torch-bearing (dadophoros) dimensions, another element common to the whole series is the frontal position of divinity "standing before" (theos prostaterios).

Mauduit 1994, in particular 62–67.

Fig. 1: Dedication of Alexiôn to [Artemis] Agrota (I.Apollonia Illyrie 13).

Fig. 2: Dedication to Artemis (Bonjakët shrine in the vicinity of Apollonia : now, J. L. Davis, Sh. R. Stocker, I. Pojani, V. Dimo (eds), A Sanctuary in the Hora of Illyrian Apollonia. Excavations at the Bonjakët Site (2004–2006), University of Cincinnati, 2022, p. 447–448).

#### 2.2 Apollo of Apollonia

Phoibos Apollo is the founder of the polis (oikistes), the eponymous and the great god of the Apollonian state. The epigraphic mention of the god with unshorn hair (akersekomas),<sup>67</sup> a literary commonplace dating back to Homer, is consistent with the iconography of the crobulos god on coins and statuary and evokes the cultic horizon of Apollo Delphinios, the god who protects youths in Athens during the Apatouries festival in Pyanopsion. The omnipresence of Apollo on coins is remarkable. When Apollonia started to mint coins at the beginning of the second half of the 4th century BCE, it issued Pegasus coins of Corinthian type, then staters of Corcyraean type at the beginning of the 3rd century, but also bronzes, including a series with the name of Apollo in the genitive, followed by a series with the name of the Apollonians in the plural genitive, as is usual.68 The presence of the name of the god in the genitive on the first bronzes issued by the city illustrates the importance of the cult of Apollo in Apollonia in an exemplary way thanks to the official character of the source and, in a way, rebalances the documentary situation that quantitatively privileges the honours paid to Artemis. It should also be noted that the three epigraphic sources concerning Apollo, like the monetary issue quoted above, emanate from the Apollonian state and that no testimony of private or individual piety is attested for Apollo.

On the other hand, Apollo is the eponymous god of the city. He expresses the collective memory of the community, built by a singular society – the Apollonians who live on the shores of the Ionian Sea – inscribed in a vast cultural and cultic Corinthian and Hellenic ensemble.69 Finally, on the coins, whether the genitive indicates provenance or belonging, the link between the issue in question and the god is strong and not only passes through the political or legal dimension: the coins belong to the god or were minted thanks to the metal owned by the god. We should understand the coins to be "of Apollo" or "of the Apollonians" ([νόμισμα] ᾽Απόλλωνος, or [νόμισμα] ᾽Απoλλωνιατᾶν) and not a dedication ([ἀνάθημα] ᾽Απόλλωνος): the coins are not offerings dedicated to Apollo, but goods from the god's treasury, and they illustrate, much later in the history of Greek coinage, the link that is observed elsewhere and often earlier between the deity or sanctuary and the first development of coinage.

The iconography of Apollo is common and marked by continuity. The representation of his indisputable symbols must be added to the figurations of Apollo on coins, which are the Delphic tripod, one or three obelisks, the zither, the quiver and arrows, and of course the laurel. The god akersekomas, conqueror and founder according to his frequent function of archegetes perhaps evoked by the Severian coins in the form

I.Apollonia Illyrie 303.

Regarding coins, where Apollo and his attributes or symbols are frequent, and where the very name of the god appears on bronze issues from the early 3rd century BCE, (Ἀπόλλωνος), read Gjongecaj/Picard 2007.

Quantin 2012.

of an episode of foundation myth, eponymous, guarantor of the publicity given to the decrees of the city, is the true emblematic deity of the Apollonian state.<sup>70</sup>

Apollo is thus essentially a founding and colonial god who evolves in a historical and organised space, which (re)determines both the past of the colony (apoikia) by reformulating the story of the origins of the city founded earlier by the human Gylax and the urban geometry by inspiring its orthogonal town planning.<sup>71</sup> It is therefore not surprising that, unlike his sister, he did not take possession of the geographical and topographical space: he probably has fewer places of worship than Artemis. There is no dedication to Apollo, a fact that can be interpreted in two ways: the area of the Apollonion was not explored or was methodically destroyed; Apollo probably acts at another level of religious reality, not more abstract, but more political and emblematic, which his functions as founder and eponymous deity affirm in another way.

#### 2.3 The Question of the Poliad Deity

At first glance, there is a family resemblance in the Corinthian and Corinthian-Corcyrean colonies, due in part to the unexpected preponderance of Artemis. Her brother Apollo is not absent of course, but better installed from now on in his archaic temple in Corinth,<sup>72</sup> perfectly housed in Syracuse where a large doric naos is dedicated to him in Ortygia, in Ambrakia where the late archaic temple of Pyrrhos Street most probably belongs to him as Soter,<sup>73</sup> and well off in Apollonia of Illyria, where the cult of the eponymous god is attested by epigraphy and coins.<sup>74</sup> The conical column of the god (aguieus) is also well known in Corcyra from the archaic period, in Apollonia, in Ambrakia and in other communities of north-western Greece (Fig. 3).75 The Apollo akersekomas of the Delian part of the Homeric Hymn and of the dedication of the Apollonians in Olympia after their victory over the city of Thronion around the middle of the 5th century BCE,76 could be the same as that of Ortygia-Syracuse, close to Artemis, that is, a young and conquering god.

The Apollonian contribution to the reconstruction of the temple of the god at Delphi in the fourth century also testifies to the favour of the god in his eponymous city (I.Apollonia Illyrie 305; Bousquet 1988, 123–124).

Quantin 2011a.

A fragment of a terracotta pinax, discovered in 1902 but since then unpublished, is painted with a text in which the name of Apollo has been reasonably restored (Bookidis/Stroud 2004).

Cf. Kernos 20, 2007, 337–338. On the deities of Ambrakia, analysed in a full historical context, see Fantasia 2011.

A decree of the Apollonians discovered at Magnesia of the Meander states that the inscription must be displayed in the ἱερὸν τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος (cf. I.Apollonia Illyrie 315, l. 51).

Cf. Fehrentz 1993 and Quantin 2011a.

Cf. Castiglioni 2003; Antonetti 2010.

Fig. 3: The discovery of an aguieus of Apollo in the Roman monumental centre of Apollonia (archaeological archives of Léon Rey).

Like Syracuse, each of the great western Corinthian colonies, Corcyra, Epidamnos, Apollonia and in its own way Ambrakia, is a bed of the goddess (δέμνιον ᾽Αρτέμιδος) to use Pindar's word,<sup>77</sup> irrespective of the history of relations between the daughter cities and Corinth. A soteriological legend in Ambrakia gives her a clear hegemonic and tutelary dimension. In Athanadas, she puts an end to the tyrant's savagery and helps Apollo in his work of pacifying the city, killing Phalaikos in a forest: from Agrotera, causing panic and terror, she becomes Hegemone, leading and protecting the city and the civic community.78 Artemis, especially as Agrotera, is a warrior goddess and often inspires cunningness in combatants to win.<sup>79</sup> This aspect of the kourotrophic goddess is linked to ephebic activities.<sup>80</sup> This evolution from accompanying the education of young girls or female life to social life and the protection of the integrity of the city's territory is not surprising.81 In Ambrakia, Artemis kills the tyrant on the borders of the territory (eschatiai) by means of an animal ruse and contributes to reestablishing the traditional good order (eunomia) in the heart of the city; the goddess is thus concerned with the activities of the political agora, especially when they are linked to the theme of the community's survival. Here, Artemis is not the goddess of

Pi., N., 1.3.

Ant.Lib., Met., 4.

Ellinger 1984, 63–67, who reminds us that the Athenian victories at Marathon and Salamis were dedicated to Artemis.

Pelekidis 1962, 219–220.

To be analysed in the context of the regional status of women in the Hellenistic period, cf. Cabanes 2010.

the outside world, nor is she only or very anciently a deity of the margins. She is one of the first deities to be given a plot in the heart of the colonial city.

Artemis is a saving and communal divinity, rather than a strictly political one, deeply colonial – despite some vain attempts to make her an ancient assimilated "indigenous" divinity –, without being metropolitan. In the eighth century, as in the seventh century, under Bacchiades or Kypselides obedience, she of course left with the Corinthian colonists, since she belonged to the Pan-Hellenic pantheon from very early on, without nevertheless being an emblematic deity of the Corinthian cultic culture. As Artemis is not profoundly Corinthian, she more easily becomes a colonial deity, capable of protecting the community against the stasis and hostility of the "natives", erected at the centre of the city as the topographic articulation between the urban space and the territory.82

According to the traditional approach, who would be the poliad deity of Apollonia, Apollo or Artemis? The answer would vary according to the documentation: it is the eponym according to the monetary iconography, the public epigraphic sources, with the exception of an inscription from the late archaic period;<sup>83</sup> it is Artemis according to the epigraphy and votive iconographic sources, as well as the rare reliable data on the cult topography of Apollonia. Let us note that the question is probably not relevant here. Everything points to Apollo being the god of the state and the main actor of national history, turned towards the citizens and the foreigner, and Artemis being a power acting in society and the territory, attentive to the members and the rules of the community. A divine emblem that anchors the city in Hellenism – the Pythian and Corinthian god – and a powerful sovereign goddess, not, or not only, Ulrich von Wilamowitz Moellendorff's Herrin des Draußen, but a deity firmly established in the heart of the city. The two patron deities of Apollonia offer a very good example of the distinction made by Corinne Bonnet and Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge "entre ce qui se passait à l'intérieur de la communauté des citoyens et l'image qu'ils voulaient donner d'eux-mêmes à l'extérieur". <sup>84</sup> The Apollonian data allows us to establish two ideas on this subject: the notion of poliad deity is imperfectly adapted to ancient reality and its heuristic value is limited to questioning, and it can therefore rightly be abandoned as a principle structuring Greek polytheism; the expression "tutelary deity" is, on the other hand, relevant on the condition that its uniqueness is excluded from its definition. This plurality of tutelary deities is twofold: one is chronological, because the group of tutelary deities is not static since it is composed by the local history of the deities and not by an authority fixing the important deities of the community by decree; the other is cultic, because several deities claim this religious quality in Apollonia, with Artemis and Apollo in the first rank. In the plural, the ex-

Quantin 2011b.

I.Apollonia Illyrie 2 and 1, inscriptions that actually belong in this sequence to the same text, cf. Quantin 2017, 116.

Bonnet/Pirenne-Delforge 2013, 214 and 224.

pression tutelary deities allows us to give new vigour to the notion of an epichoric pantheon<sup>85</sup> by identifying a small group of gods, goddesses or heroes and heroines who locally control the main lines of force of the divine society.<sup>86</sup>

The two theoi do not in fact evolve in the same space.87 One circulates in society, logically diversifying and meeting other deities; her more static than hieratic representations should not be misleading: the goddess is mobile, accompanying and motivating a religious dynamic that remains difficult to grasp. Apollo, essentially Pythian, is a theos in representation, an emblematic actor of history, linked to the collective and political memory of the Apollonians. From a methodological point of view, it seems interesting to observe the impact on the documentation of the difference between Artemis and Apollo in Apollonia: while it is futile to ask which the main or poliad divinity is, the difference in the level of intervention of the two divinities, added to the fatum of the discoveries, makes one of them apparently omnipresent and the other falsely culturally discreet. Ancient cities or peoples were not necessarily devoted to one main deity, an idea undoubtedly based on the exceptional case of Athens or Demeter in Sicily, and perhaps also on a surreptitious influence of the monotheistic model and the difficulties we have in understanding the polytheisms of the ancient Mediterranean.

In their own way, these themes raise the difficult question of mirror effects between human and divine societies,<sup>88</sup> but it seems to me that they are above all an opportunity to observe two constructions of divine assemblages that share the articulation of two pairs of deities associating the masculine and the feminine. On opposite sides of a sort of distorting mirror, in Dodona, these two products of polytheistic syntax and deployment are founded on a common onomastic root of Zeus and Dione, which establishes a paredria and a co-residence of the two divinities,89 and in Apollonia, they exploit the acquired gemellity of Artemis and Apollo, who do not seem to share a sanctuary, but whose singular efficiencies complement each other in order to assume a common role of tutelary deity. The twin composition of a colonial Apollonian pantheon is in particular an opportunity to reflect on the structuring of divine

See, for example, Labarre 2004.

See the interesting reflections of Beck 2020, 121–160.

I do not discuss here the astrological or astronomical aspects of the association of Apollo-sun and Artemis-moon, which are probably of importance, at least from the imperial period onwards. This is echoed at the beginning of Dante's Song XXIX of Paradise (verses 1–3), in which Beatrice discusses creation and the angels: "Quando ambedue li figli di Latona, coperti del Montone e de la Libra, fanno de l'orizzonte insieme zona", verses explained by Pasquale Porro thus: "il vient un court moment où le zénith (le point le plus élevé de la sphère céleste) les [Artémis et Apollon] tient en parfait équilibre" (Carlo Ossola ed., Paris, 2021, Gallimard, 1330–1331).

Pironti 2013, 159–160 points out the discrepancies between the two societies, except for the subordination to a superior male power, Zeus.

Pironti 2013, 166 considers that "par rapport à Zeus, Héra est l'autre et le plus proche"; one could similarly write here that Dione is the same as Zeus and the closest to the ruler of Olympus.

configurations whose dynamic seems neither to be hierarchical nor anarchic, but rather linked to a functional and topographical distribution of divine sovereignty. Beyond the anthropomorphic fiction of conjugality and twinship, it is clear that the divine ontology, which includes an ability to appear both masculine and feminine – Athena being the best example –, prevails over gender and the nature of the relationships between the associated deities. Let us add that Zeus and Hera illustrate both the conjugal model and the brotherhood. It should also be noted that the Dodonean and Apollonian cases discussed here are marked by the central and sovereign figure of Zeus.

In the case of Zeus and Dione, it seems to me that we observe a complementarity: Dione increases the jovian competences, as an onomastic equivalent of Zeus, which gives the false impression of a pairing or duplication, expressed in the anthropomorphic form of a couple. In the case of Artemis and Apollo, complementarity is also effective, but it is achieved by distributing the spaces of evolution, the fields of action, with the same objective: the survival and defence of the civic community. These pairs of theoi do not constitute simple pairings of masculine and feminine, nor are they an attempt to express the divine in an asexual manner, but they establish an onomastic and cultic formulation of the divine power that is declined in the feminine and the masculine, within the framework of a complementary assemblage that guarantees the effectiveness of the cultic address.

### Bibliography

Alroth, Brita (1989), Greek Gods and Figurines (Boreas 18), Uppsala.

Antonetti, Claudia (2010), "Tra storia ed epos. Il donario degli Apolloniati a Olimpia (Paus. 5.22.2–4)", in: Ettore Cingano (ed.), Tra panellenismo e tradizioni locali. Generi poetici e storiografia, Alessandria, 433–450.

Aurigny, Hélène / Durvye, Cécile (eds.) (2021), Artémis près d'Apollon. Culte et représentation d'Artémis à Délos, Delphes, Claros et Didymes (Kernos Supplément 27), Liège.

Beck, Hans (2020), Localism and the Ancient Greek City-State, Chicago / London.

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Bonnet, Corinne / Pirenne-Delforge, Vinciane (2013), "Les dieux et la cité. Représentations des divinités tutélaires entre Grèce et Phénicie", in: Nicolas Zenzen / Tonio Hölscher / Kai Trampedach (eds.), Aneignung und Abgrenzung. Wechselnde Perspektiven auf die Antithese von 'Ost' und 'West' in der griechischen Antike, Mainz, 201–228.

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# Nicole Belayche The Carian Stratonicea's Exception: Two Equal Megistoi Theoi as Divine Patrons in the Roman Period

Abstract: Stratonikeia's pantheon displays a unique civic profile with two (almost) equally predominant deities in the Roman period: Hekate (in Lagina) and Zeus Panamaros (in Panamara). Only these two deities were called megistoi kai epiphanestatoi. When they are both mentioned, during the events of 81 and 40/39 BCE when they were granted the onomastic attribute megistos.e, they work in a doublet fashion, fuelled by the usual rhetoric for salutary deities after manifesting their energeia (their power in action), to the point where both deities become the epiphanestatoi theoi indiscriminately. And yet some clues point to Zeus coming first. The 'Stratonicean exception' does not reflect a hierarchy in a civic pantheon, but rather two comparable historical situations from which the city drew the best diplomatic advantage by relying on its gods. It explains the relative prominence of Zeus Panamaros, "born" at the same time as the Imperial era as megistos, epiphanestatos and patrios theos, without downgrading Hecate who preceded him in the patronage of the city and served as a model for the construction of his image.

> τὰ ἀφανῆ τοῖς φανεροῖς τεκμαίρου, Solon Civitas [. . .] Stratonicensium Iovis et Triviae religionem tueba[n]tur. Tacitus1

Stratonicea is a Carian polis anchored on a Macedonian katoikia (settlement), with an enduring 'indigenous' identity besides its Greek status.<sup>2</sup> Yet its pantheon<sup>3</sup> displays a unique civic profile with two (almost) equally predominant deities in the Roman period:<sup>4</sup> Hekate in Lagina, and Zeus Panamaros in Panamara, whose "invention" dates

Respectively: Solon, Maxim 20, ap. Stobaeus, 3.1.172 (= fr. 114 ed. Wehrli): (conjecturing) "the invisible by means of the visible"; Tac., Ann., 3.62.2 (under Tiberius): "Stratonicea [was] championing the cult of Jove and Diana of the Crossways" (transl. Loeb).

The statistics and the graph were kindly provided by Alaya Palamidis who filled in the MAP database for Stratonicea (https://base-map-polytheisms.huma-num.fr). I thank her warmly for that and for reading a first draft of this text.

In the 270s BCE, Antiochus I settled Macedonian colonists on the location of a previous community with a Lycian origin, see Mastrocinque 1979, 75–78; Cohen 1995, 268–273; and Debord 2001a, 157–158. On this term, see Pirenne-Delforge (ed.) 1998.

Yet, in Ephesus, next to Artemis who is the local divine marker and identity reference par excellence, there are other very great divine powers, see Belayche 2021a.

to 40/39 BCE. Despite its medium size, the city had some importance because of the significant role it played within the regional challenges from the second-first centuries BCE onwards. And yet, in the Roman period, the local ritual agents did not have the Roman civitas in the majority, at least not in Lagina<sup>5</sup> (unlike Ephesus, for instance). The epigraphic documentation that mentions the two deities (alone or together) is particularly extensive (c. 500 inscriptions). It is divided between devotional documents (dedications) and the public and commemorative documents of priesthoods, but unequally for the two sanctuaries. In Panamara, the majority are dedications (c. 58% of the sources in the DB MAP), due to a particular rite that was common in Roman times: hair consecrations (c. 100 inscriptions).6 In Lagina, public and honorary documentation is more common (c. 69% of the sources in the DB MAP) which illustrates members (both men and women) of the civic elite by listing the catalogue of their cult functions while they exalt the gods also – which in turn enhanced their own greatness. Consequently, it either relates official divine denominations (the priest or the priestess of a certain deity) which have at most one attribute that differentiates them,<sup>7</sup> or it aligns hyperbolic expressions that contribute to multiply epicleses in contexts of glorification.<sup>8</sup>

Within the pantheon of Stratonicea, only Zeus Panamaros and the Laginean Hecate participate in these exalting games (with three exceptions, see infra), in the same way that, because of their extra-urban settlement, they were the only ones to be honoured with rituals that were both "concentric" or "stationary" and "kinetic" (moving on a "sacred path"), to use the terminology of C.G. Williamson.9 However, as we see in all the cities of Asia where a divine power predominated (such as Artemis in Ephesus, Asclepius in Pergamon or, in Caria, Aphrodite in Aphrodisias), the two dominant divine powers did not drain a pantheon inhabited by over forty divine powers with different denominations. This pantheon relates to various cultural components in line with the history of Anatolia:<sup>10</sup> 1) deities of Anatolian tradition subjected to an interpre-

Laumonier 1958, 372–391, set a relative chronology of ritual agents in Lagina. On the juridical, and not social, distinction between the Stratonicean notables, see Frija 2018, esp. 125 ("on peut affirmer sans risque de se tromper que, dans des petites et moyennes cités de la région, la diffusion de la citoyenneté romaine n'a pas, encore au milieu du II<sup>e</sup> siècle, atteint l'ensemble de ceux que l'on peut considérer comme les élites locales"); more broadly, Ferrary 2005.

See Girone 2003, 24–34 for the repertoire of dedications. When the god's name is mentioned, it is Zeus Panamaros/Panèmerios (vel sim.)

In Stratonicea, there are 13 different onomastic attributes for the theonym of Zeus alone (appearing unequally, 82 times in total), besides the overwhelming majority of the attribute Panamaros/Panemeros (vel sim., appearing 130 times). For the whole city, see Graph 1.

E.g., elsewhere double superlatives like μεγιστότατος ("the most greatest"), Müller 1913, no. 225. For Hermes τρισμέγιστος, Versnel 1990, 237–242. See also Chaniotis 2009; Chaniotis 2010a; and Marek 2000.

Williamson 2021, 61–64.

See Marek 2016, 309–549 for the Roman period.

tatio Graeca<sup>11</sup> like the name of the goddess Artemis, sometimes epichoricised or "demotised" ("en Panamarois" or "en Korazois"; Artemis and Apollo Koliorgon [from Koliorga]);<sup>12</sup> 2) others from the Greek tradition such as the figures of Hestia, Hermes, Asclepius, the Eleusinian goddesses and the Nemeseis; 3) foreign deities created in Hellenistic times like Sarapis; and finally 4) those of more recent Roman importation, such as Zeus Kapetolios and the deified emperors. Without examining the entire local pantheonic network in this article,13 the divine world of this city demonstrates once again, as if proof were needed, that the evolution of Greco-Roman polytheism during the imperial period did not consist in reducing the divine world to a unity which would have paved the way for Christianity, and that even what we call the "henotheistic" evolution of the imperial period did not bring about a fundamental change in the way of conceiving this divine world.14 In fact, no scholar has ever considered the continually glorified Zeus Panamaros or Hecate in terms of "henotheism", even though the question was posed for a set of dedications found in the gymnasium of Stratonicea, because they were dedicated Διῒ ὑψίστῳ (To Zeus the most high/the highest) – once [Θε]ῷ ὑψ[ίστ]ῳ (To the most high/highest god) and Θείῳ / To the divine (Ἀνγέλῳ / Messager, Ἀγγελικῷ / messenger, Βασιλικ̣ῷ̣ / royal, etc.).<sup>15</sup> But the Zeus hypsistos (the most high/highest) honoured in Panamara under Antoninus Pius in a very political context, with Hecate Soteira, Zeus Kapetolios and the Emperor's Tyche,16 is very certainly Zeus Panamaros next to his partner<sup>17</sup> and he could also very well be the one at the gymnasium, a political and competitive place par excellence. Once again, we note that a reflection based on onomastic attributes imposes a finely-honed contextualisation, and one without a preliminary model. The abundance of epigraphic (and numismatic) material provides a rare opportunity to take advantage of serial ap-

Strabo, 14.2.28 [C 661–663], stresses a long-time Hellenization: the Carians spoke bad Greek (they were barbarophônoi), yet "[. . .] the language of the Carians [. . .] has very many Greek words mixed up with it", "for, although the other peoples were not yet having very much intercourse with the Greeks [. . .], yet the Carians roamed throughout the whole of Greece, serving on expeditions for pay" (transl. Loeb). See Brixhe 1993 and Bresson 2007, 217–225. For Carian onomastic attributes, see the priesthoods of M. Sempronius Clemens, I.Stratonikeia 16 = DB MAP S#5949, l. 6–7 et I.Stratonikeia 293 = DB MAP S#6870, l. 16–17 (τοῦ μεγίστου καὶ ἐπιφανεστάτου Διὸς Παναμάρου; τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Χρυσαορείου καὶ τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Ναράσου καὶ τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Λ̣ωνδάργου), and the database of G. Frija, "Prêtres civiques", https://www.pretres-civiques.org/pretre/sempronius-clemens; Şahin 2002, no. 14. See also a civic dedication to Zeus Ardureos (I.Stratonikeia 518 = DB MAP S#7000), and other divine figures with an indigenous tradition (Demeter Naryandis and Artemis Peldekeitis, I.Stratonikeia 283 = DB MAP S#6814, end of the second century CE).

I.Stratonikeia 527 = DB MAP S#7026; I.Stratonikeia 704 = DB MAP S#7134; I.Stratonikeia 263 = DB MAP S#6782. On the demes of Stratonicea grouped in the civic territory, see Williamson 2021, 244–249. For this kind of issue, see e.g. Belayche 2021b.

See Belayche 2023.

See Pleket 1981, 184–188, and Belayche 2012.

I.Stratonikeia 330 = DB MAP S#6948.

He is hypatos (the highest) once: I.Stratonikeia 206 = DB MAP S#6514 (Ζηνὶ Πανημερίῳ ὑπάτῳ).

proaches<sup>18</sup> and address the very heart of the conception of a plural divine world, its making and its working,19 freeing ourselves from historiographical debates on "one vs many" and the taxonomy of the divine worlds,<sup>20</sup> of no heuristic value in this particular case.

Graph 1: Graph of all onomastic elements referring to Zeus in Stratonicea in the MAP database.<sup>21</sup> Elements are linked when they appear in the same testimony and refer to a Zeus with the same epithet. The size of the elements and of the links between them depends on their frequency.

The last epigraphic corpus published in the IGSK dates to 2010 (I.Stratonikeia III). After this date, see the common tools (SEG and BE), the databases PHI (https://inscriptions.packhum.org) and MAP, but this latter lists only the onomastic sequences and not the theonyms without epithet (this reservation is important for Hekate who has few epithets).

See Belayche/Pirenne-Delforge 2015.

Discussion has been rich over the last thirty years. As a reminder, a very few, important bibliographical standards: Versnel 1990; Versnel 2011; Athanassiadi/Frede (eds.) 1999; Mitchell/Van Nuffelen (eds.) 2010.

I do not propose a similar graph for Hekate because she has very few onomastic attributes.

# 1 Stratonicea, the Polis with a Dual Divine Patronage

Out of all the Greek cities of Asia, Stratonicea is the only case of a dual divine patronage22 which changed over time: Hecate and Zeus Chrysaoreios until the end of the 1st century BCE,23 then Hecate and Zeus Panamaros. From Augustus onwards, the Stratoniceans "championed (tuebantur, Tacitus)" two master deities: a Zeus – called Panamaros (an onomastic attribute which is not Greek) from the last quarter of the 1st century BCE,<sup>24</sup> against a background of a pro-Roman attitude that never wavered in Stratonicea while the Greek cities of Asia showed some disaffection with Rome from the creation of the province –, <sup>25</sup> and a Hecate. This order of citation, which is that of the second century historian, was undoubtedly the one put forward by the Stratonicean ambassadors who came to Rome, given that Tacitus relates a Senate inquiry. In fact, this order matches the relative mass of epigraphic testimonies found, the vast majority of which are from the imperial period: they are more numerous for Zeus qualified as Panamaros vel sim. (c. 64% of the 203 testimonies in the DB MAP containing the Zeus element) – a predominance which is comparable to that of the Zeus element (either with attribute or not), c. 40% of all epigraphic attestations of deities in Stratonicea, with an expected overrepresentation in Panamara.<sup>26</sup> For Hecate, however, there are only 103 testimonies among all of the inscriptions in the Stratonicean corpus, of which approximately half do not include any onomastic attribute (that is, c. a quarter of the testimonies of divinities in the DB MAP, which only covers the divine elements with onomastic attributes) – despite the fact that the sanctuary of Lagina is in a much better state of conservation than the one in Panamara.27 In public documentation (decrees) and self-illustration texts (inscriptions celebrating cultic

See infra, Strabo n. 51.

Ferrary 2001.

At Troezen in Argolis, according to Pausanias, 2.30.6, Zeus would have forced Athena and Poseidon to share the civic patronage, but the two divine powers have complementary functions: alone, Athena is Polias / of the city (and Sthenias / powerful), and Poseidon is basileus / king, as a magistrate (each of them is depicted on the opposite faces of coins from the fourth century BCE). There are no complementary functions in Stratonicea.

See the list of the various spellings (Panamaros/rios, Panemeros/rios) in Rivault 2021, tableau 1 s.vv. (not paginated). Concerning my issue, the diversity of spellings, connected to the chronology, has no impact insofar as there was no replacement of a spelling by another one. Panamaros and Panemeros coexist in the third century, although the god is always called Panemeros/rios in hair dedications, see infra p. 452.

The use of statistics is very complex because the same deity can be designated either without onomastic attributes or by other names (like ho theos/hè thea). Thus, statistics given in this paper are not to be taken as "objective" data; they are used as heuristic tools, helping to visualize orders of importance.

Despite the damage suffered by the Laginean sanctuary of Hekate during the Mithridatic war (Appian, Mithr., 21), it is better preserved (Augustean works) than the sanctuary of Panamara, and it was (and is) properly excavated. The sanctuary of Panamara was a vast area enclosed by walls, with many buildings inside (among them a Hera temple), which are better attested in the honorific inscriptions

functions), the two figures appear as two "greatest" equal powers, with similar episodes of salutary intervention for the city at two key moments in the late-republican history of Asia.<sup>28</sup> However, this double patronage was not that of a "Greek-style" divine couple, even though the Zeus located in Panamara (Karios or Panamaros) could potentially give the impression of a "panhellenic" couple due to the existence of a Hera.29 The citation order of the two deities varies according to the location of the dedications (in the city: 75 inscriptions; in either sanctuary, Panamara: 210 and Lagina: 79) and according to the context (chronological, religious or geopolitical). In the 11 cases where the two powers are glorified together, Zeus always comes first except once in Panamara,30 bearing in mind that 8 of these inscriptions come from Panamara.

In the wake of previous research on the working and making of polytheism, I will focus on the tension between these two largely dominant powers (τῶν προεστώτων μεγίστων θεῶν): the thea (goddess) Hecate and Zeus Panamaros (listing them here in chronological order) – a tension that is not part of a "divine sovereignty" according to a vertical conception of power. Both have few onomastic attributes,31 except "greatest (megistos/e)" and "the most manifest" powers, perpetually providential for the city,32 in enough testimonies to have formulaic value, especially for Hecate.33 And they are

of the imperial period than on the ground (no excavations up to now). For the constructions in Roman times, see Laumonier 1958, 222–227 and 242–245.

And yet Hellenistic Caria is known for epiphanies, see Robert 1937, 518; also, RE s.v. "Epiphanie" (Pfister), col. 277–323. At Mylasa, Zeus Osogoa/gos, "saviour and benefactor of the city" gave "many grandiose manifestations of his action", I.Mylasa 306, see Robert 1945, 44 n. 1 and Rivault 2021, p. 161–166 (165 for this inscription); see also Laumonier 1958, 110.

Pirenne-Delforge/Pironti 2016, 175–205, esp. 194 n. 468 for Stratonikeia.

I.Stratonikeia 186 = DB MAP S#6493.

E.g. Zeus Panemeros of Argyros ([Διὶ Π]ανημέρῳ Ἀργύρου), I.Stratonikeia 311–312 = DB MAP S#6936–6937; Argyros is probably the founder of the cult, see Chaniotis/Carbon, forthcoming, for other anthroponyms in the genitive. For Hekate Soteira, infra n. 75. Hera, who also has few onomastic attributes except for topic ones, can be Teleia, e.g. I.Stratonikeia 324 = DB MAP S#6944.

I.Stratonikeia 1101 = DB MAP S#7200, l. 2–3 (mid-third century CE): τὴν πόλιν ἄνωθεν τῇ τῶν προεστώτων αὐτῆς μεγίστων θεῶν [προνοίᾳ, Διὸς Π]ανημε[ρίου καὶ Ἑ]κάτης ἐκ πολλῶν καὶ μεγάλων καὶ συνεχῶν κινδύνων σεσῶσθαι ("the providence of the greatest, prominent gods, Zeus Panemerios and Hecate, who saved the city from great and numerous dangers"). Already for Hekate I.Stratonikeia 512, 6–8 (ὁ δῆμος ἀποδεικνύμενος τὴν εἰς τὸ θεῖον εὐσεβείαν τε καὶ εὐχαριστίαν καὶ διὰ ταῦτα ἐπὶ τῶι συμφέροντι τυγχάννω τῆς παρὰ τῶν θεῶν ἐπισημασίας διεσώθη ("and thus, to its benefit, obtaining the esteem/special attention of the gods (the demos) was saved", transl. Van Bremen) ἐκ τῶν κινδύνων καὶ ἐκ τοῦ περιστάντος αὐτὸν καιροῦ). The date is debatable (revolt of Aristonikos or Mithridatic war, Van Bremen 2010), precisely because the expressions are formulaic; see Laumonier 1958, 355. At Klazomenai, in the second century BCE, an epiphany of Zeus soter epiphanes in a similar context, Boulay 2009; in Caria at Bargylia for Artemis Kindyas, Robert 1937, 459–465 and Pritchett 1979, 37–39.

16 mentions for Hekate (more than 2/3) and 7 for Zeus Panamaros (c. 1/3), plus cases when they are either megistos/e (3/5 for Hekate and c. 1/3 for Zeus Panamaros) or epiphanestatos/e (more than 2/3 for Hekate and less than 1/3 for Zeus Panamaros). The lexicon of omnipotence (Versnel 2017) is not attested, yet it would not change the argument.

the only two figures of the Stratonicean pantheon to be so, with three exceptions that can be explained. Zeus Chrysaoreios, propator therefore ancestral (τοῦ προπάτορος Διὸς Χρυσαορείου) <sup>34</sup> since he was the second patron god until the last quarter of the 1st century BCE, is however only once megistos theos in 100–150 CE in a text in Lagina: τοῦ προπάτορος μεγ[ίσστου] θεοῦ Διὸς Χρυσαορείου. <sup>35</sup> In this commemorative priestly inscription (where the honoured priest was priest of Zeus Panamaros three times), he is undoubtedly contaminated (even in the doubling of the sigma) by Zeus Panamaros and Hecate, both megisstos/e [sic] kai epiphanestatos/e theos/a (c-d and 1–2 [the first lines are restored], and 16 and 19–20).36 The absence of both attributes for the other "Carian" Zeuses honoured at Stratonicea37 makes Panamaros stand out all the more because the "Carian" Zeuses are frequently "megistos" in regional epigraphy: the exemplary case being that of the Zeus of Iasos who is simply megistos, <sup>38</sup> with no other specific onomastic attribute, contrary to those of Labraunda or Mylasa.<sup>39</sup> The second exception has to do with Hera: she is epiphanestate in a 1st-century CE text commemorating the construction of the goddess' naos ([τῆς ἐπι]φανεστάτης θεᾶς Ἥρας),<sup>40</sup> probably out of mimicry with her new Panamarean partner. Finally, the Nemeseis are megistai, which refers more to their imperial "theology" than to a hierarchical positioning in the local pantheon.<sup>41</sup>

The megistos/e attribute concentrated on the two figures of Hecate and Zeus Panamaros is remarkable because megas/ale is the most frequent epithet in the qualification of the gods in Greek42 and the number of attestations increases in Roman times

See supra n. 7 and 11.

SEG 15, 639 (τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Μεγίστου); BE 1973, 425 and 1964, 458; Laumonier 1958, index s.v. 768.

 For the Zeus of Labraunda Μεγίστῳ Θεῷ Διῒ Λαβραύνδῳ, BE 1973, 405. At Mylasa (I.Mylasa 306), Zeus Osogo(a) is τοῦ μεγίστου τῶν [θεῶν]; see infra n. 97. Cf. Debord 2001b. Zeus Larasios at Tralles (I. Tralleis 14), the Zeus of Mylasa (I.Mylasa 212 and 310) and the Zeus of Iasos (I.Iasos 235–236) are hypsistoi.

I.Stratonikeia 113 = DB MAP S#6397, l. 8–9.

I.Stratonikeia 667 = DB MAP S#7035, l. 7: the priest was also priest of megistos theos Zeus Panamaros, l. 4–5.

I.Stratonikeia 663 = DB MAP S#7030, l. a-b and 13. The priests of the two inscriptions 663 and 667 (DB MAP S#7030 and 7035) come from the deme of Hierakômè where S.Ç Sahin locates the sanctuary of Zeus Chrysaoreios, but the hypothesis of a link which might have prompted the attribute of Propator cannot be demonstrated.

Heller 2006, 207, proposes a geopolitical reason in the context of the competition between cities for the granting of the title of metropolis of Caria under the Antonines, see infra n. 108.

I.Stratonikeia 175 = DB MAP S#6440: Θεαῖς μεγίσταις Νεμέσεσι. At Smyrna, "their" city, they are just megalai theai, I.Smyrna 641 and 650 = DB MAP S#5939 and 5947. For the imperial Nemesis, Bru 2011, 157–173.

A first repertoire by Müller 1913; recently see Versnel 2011, 288–291 ("the fourth characteristic of henotheistic religion") and Parker 2017a, 141–145 in acclamatory contexts. And yet this attribute is problematic, for the "Mothers" for instance, see Georgoudi 2021 and Belayche 2016. In the present state of the DB MAP (with few data from Anatolia), megas holds the sixth rank among the 10 onomastic elements in Greek that are the most frequent.

with the trend to exalt the gods and acclaim them – to such an extent that A. Chaniotis created the neologism "megatheism" to characterise this "expression of piety". <sup>43</sup> But what does the attribute "greatest" mean, given that a divine primacy, itself glorified in the context of competition between cults, does not necessarily require it? Accordingly, in her city of Aphrodisias, Aphrodite is never megiste despite being eponymous and glorified as epiphanestate thea, and in Ephesus, the testimonies of Artemis Ephesia he megiste thea are concentrated in the epigraphic record of the donation of C. Vibius Salutaris at the very beginning of the 2nd century.<sup>44</sup> Why glorify two public divinities who are not a couple, equally and with the same formula, when a superlative has the function of establishing a hierarchy? And throughout what means? More broadly, how are we to understand the Stratonicean exception within the great cities of western Anatolia, and in the Greco-Roman representation of the cities' tutelage which was based on the mythical agon between Athena and Poseidon for the one in Athens? What does this tell us about the conception of the gods of polytheism?

Upon examination, it appears that this "greatest and overpowerful in action" couple is a product of a well dated story, which again illustrates the conjunctural aspect of polytheistic representations which is a condition of their existence. Providing a fine example of the intertwining of religion and politics, the imperial-period "duo", Zeus Panamaros-Hecate, is organically anchored in Stratonicea, and in its religious topography firstly. The two extra-urban geographical poles point in two opposite directions (each about ten kilometres from the city, see infra Fig. 1).45 This dual topography creates symmetrical rituals46 – festivities in their respective sanctuaries, shared religious tributes in the sanctuary of the city at the bouleuterion, <sup>47</sup> and two lavish annual processions which each take up about a month of the calendar, with spectacles and liberalities.48 Secondly, this double anchoring is based on a historical memory continuously claimed as identity (διὰ παντὸς χρόνου) – the salutary epiphanies of the two divine powers during two similar historical episodes in each of the two geographical poles, in 88 and 40 BCE.49 These two spatial and historical data shed light on this original pantheonic device – two equally exalted divinities, but with a moving hierarchy according to the contexts (and "discourses") –, especially versus a god as identitarian as Zeus Karios who,

Chaniotis 2010a, 113.

Respectively IAph2007, 8.114; see Chaniotis 2010b, esp. 236–237. For Ephesos I.Ephesos 27 = DB MAP S#14381.

They are not "frontier shrines". On this discussion starting from the typology of G. Vallet, followed by Polignac 1984, see the convincing pages of Williamson 2021, 17–34 and 418–419.

This is the refreshing "spatial approach" of Williamson 2021, 241–410 passim, for Stratonikeia and its two sanctuaries. But the scholar does not investigate the relationships between Zeus and Hekate.

Bernini/Rivault 2020, esp. 151–161. The daily chorus of children (I.Stratonikeia 1101 = DB MAP S#7200) joined "kinetic" and "stationary" rituals.

E.g. I.Stratonikeia 254. See Debord 2007.

Yet, the Hekate sanctuary was damaged in 88, contrary to that of Panamara in 40, "miraculously" protected (I.Stratonikeia 10 = DB MAP S#5775).

during the Hellenistic period, was settled in Panamara where he was supplanted without disappearing.50 How, over time, is the balance between the two "greatest" powers established and manifested, and how, where and when are variations in hierarchy expressed?

Fig. 1: Stratonicea and its chora.

# 2 Hecate First Megiste Kai Epiphanestate

A dual divine patronage already existed in the Hellenistic city. Strabo describes a situation in the mid-2nd century BCE, after the end of Rhodian rule:

There are two sanctuaries in the country of the Stratoniceians (ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ τῶν Στρατονικέων), of which the most famous, that of Hecatè, is at Lagina (τὸ [hieron] τῆς Ἑκάτης ἐπιφανέστατον); and it draws great festal assemblies every year. And near the city (ἐγγὺς δὲ τῆς πόλεως), is the temple of Zeus Chrysaoreus (τὸ τοῦ Χρυσαορέως Διὸς), the common possession of all Carians (κοινὸν ἁπάντων Καρῶν), whither they gather both to offer sacrifice and to deliberate on their common interests.51

See infra n. 64–65.

Strabo, 14.2.25 [C 660], transl. Loeb. See Heller 2006, 206–208.

This double tutelage is visually expressed in contemporary coinage when, on the obverse, there is a bust of Zeus, depicted too generically to allow precise identification,<sup>52</sup> and on the reverse, Hecate standing frontally, her head coiffed with the polos (the hairstyle of the civic Tychai) topped by a crescent moon, and holding the torch and the patera (see for this type Fig. 5).53 The distribution of the deities on the two sides of the coin shows no hint of a hierarchy between them, but rather the tradition in Hellenistic coinage of featuring Zeus on the obverse (Fig. 2a). Moreover, in many other issues from the 2nd-1st centuries BCE, when Hecate is shown alone, her bust is on the right, with Pegasus (Fig. 2b) or a winged Victory on the reverse.54

Fig. 2a: Half-drachm, after 166 BCE (SNG von Aulock 8142; Meadow Group 2 A, p. 85).

O.: Zeus bearded and laurated;

R.: eagle with spread wings standing right, harpa in front, all within incuse square (in the field MEΛANTOY).

Fig. 2b: Stratonicea, ca. 2nd cent. BCE (BMC Caria 29).


He might be Zeus Chrysaor(e)ios, according to Laumonier 1958, 202–203.

See Meadows 2002, for the catalogue group 1 (tridrachm) 80 and 98 and pl. 19 group 1.

See Meadows 2002, group 2, 80, drachms, c. 130–115 BCE.

Thus, Stratonicea already had two sanctuaries, already outside the city-centre, yet one extra-urban (Hecate) and the other peri-urban (Zeus Chrysaoreios). The one dedicated to Hecate was located in Lagina, north-west of the city (Fig. 1). With this hieron ἐπιφανέστατον ("the most famous sanctuary", Strabo), the goddess gave the city a remarkable image – literally speaking, on the obverses of silver and bronze coins from the 2nd century BCE.<sup>55</sup> The other sanctuary, that of Zeus Chrysaor(e)ios, honoured a "Zeus", that is, a great male god<sup>56</sup> – just as the "Meter" or the "Artemis" are Greek names for the great female goddesses of Anatolia57 –, bearing a Carian epiclesis (toponymic).<sup>58</sup> He patronised a pan-Carian federal function<sup>59</sup> since his sanctuary, at the gates of the city-centre, was the place of the "Chrysaoric league" (τὸ σύστημα αὐτῶν Χρυσαορέων, Strabo) which was homonymous.60 This is why he is the propator/ancestral power.<sup>61</sup> The imperial period preserves the memory of this double patronage of Hecate and this Zeus, through the coupled priesthoods τῆς Ἑκάτης καὶ τοῦ Δ[ιὸς τοῦ] Χρυσαορείου and an inscription which gratifies him as megisstos (sic) just like the patron couple of the time.<sup>62</sup> Then, he had a sanctuary served by a priest,<sup>63</sup> but his importance has vanished because the ethnic league he patronised fell into disuse since the formation of the province of Asia.64

The politico-ethnic function of the shrine of Zeus Chrysaor(e)ios at the gates of the city was different from the extra-urban shrine of Zeus Karios located in Panamara (ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ [Καρίο]υ τοῦ ἐμ Πανα[μ]άροις),65 a deme to the southeast of the

See Hermary 2020 for a shared iconography.

See Meadows 2002, catalogue p. 80–81 drachms group 2 and p. 91–94 group 3 (Hekate with the moon crescent) and p. 114 for the bronze coinage.

In all the Hellenized countries, the theonym of Zeus is used as a generic name for expressing a divine prominent position in Greek language, see Parker 2017b and 2017a, 46–50.

See Laumonier 1958, 200–211 (yet at pages 202–203, he seems to confuse him with Zeus Karios in setting a couple with Hera who was at Panamara (as B.V. Head did in BMC Caria p. LXVIII); Debord 2001b; Debord 2010 (on mythical references); Williamson 2021, 254–259; and Rivault 2021, 264–271, who lists him under the rubric "Zeus de koina".

I.Stratonikeia 809 = DB MAP S#7137.

See Sahin 2003.

I.Stratonikeia 667 = DB MAP S#7035.

See supra n. 35 and infra n. 64.

I.Stratonikeia 236 = DB MAP S#6751.

I.Stratonikeia 249, 251, 252 = DB MAP S#6753, 6762, 6769; see also I.Stratonikeia 16 = DB MAP S#5949. Lozano 1993, 92–93, asserts that Zeus Panamaros is "l'heredero" of Zeus Chrysaoreios and that there was a "substitution" from the latter to the other; this is understandable only if the "legacy" concerns the position of civic patronage and not the identity of the god.

I.Stratonikeia 1401 = DB MAP S#5715, l. 24–25, in 197–188 BCE, a decree of Callipolis for Leon son of Chrysaor (Van Bremen 2004); see also I.Stratonikeia 3 = DB MAP S#5278 (phials offered to Zeus [Karios] by Philip V of Macedonia in 201), I.Stratonikeia 6 = DB MAP S#5279 (between 197 and 166), I.Stratonikeia 7 = DB MAP S#5708, l. 24–25 (ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ Καρίου, before 197?), I.Stratonikeia 101 and 104 = DB MAP S#6355 and 6361 (second-first century BCE) and I.Stratonikeia 47 = DB MAP S#6346 (no

city (Fig. 1),66 which would become the second sacred pole of the city from Augustus onwards. Twelve documents found at Panamara preserve his name,67 including five with Hera. Strabo does not mention him in the Hellenistic period although he was granted asylia in the 2nd century BCE,68 undoubtedly because he held no master status in the poliadic construction. It was the sanctuary of an ethnic god, Carian, which was not proper to the city of Stratonicea.69 In Hellenistic times, his Carian identity, able to ethnically support "the koinon of the Panamareans", <sup>70</sup> was useful to the city's relationships with both the demes and the neighbouring cities (Kallipolis and Laodicea).71 However, this role was not sufficient for glorifying Zeus Karios as megistos or epiphanestatos. In the imperial period, the epiclesis Karios only appears sporadically, for example in the dedication of a priest, son of one of the ambassadors of 3972 and, at the end of the 1st century CE, in the consecration by a priest and his wife of the "pronaos/vestibule (?) with all its surroundings (τὸν πρόαντα σὺν τοῖς ἐπιφερομένοις πᾶσι)" "To Zeus Karios and Hera" in the temenos of Zeus now in his form of Panamaros.73 In both cases, Zeus Karios became somewhat of a "co-tenant" of Zeus Panamaros, who supplanted but not replaced him.74

I.Stratonikeia 7 = DB MAP S#5708, l. 7–10.

date). In a religious rule badly flawed (I.Stratonikeia 1), this Zeus has no epiclesis (at least preserved), but this might happened in the imperial period as well, see e.g. I.Stratonikeia 205 = DB MAP S#6702.

The date of the integration of Panamara in the city is a matter of debate, cf. Van Bremen 2004. On the "localism" of the sanctuary and its relations to Hellenism, see Mastrocinque 1979, 209–235; Lozano 1992, 86 n. 2 and 224–228, and 1993, 84 (the Panamareia served to "rememorar anualmente la integración de la aldea primitiva en la ciudad griega"); Bresson 2007.

Besides those cited supra n. 65, for the Roman period I.Stratonikeia 109, 111, 112 et 116 = DB MAP S#6363, 6392, 6393 and 6398 (first century CE), I.Stratonikeia 200 = DB MAP S#6505 (second century CE). I.Stratonikeia 20 = DB MAP S#6206 is a dubious restitution (twice) based on lines 3–4 ([τὰς ἐν]αργεῖς ἐπι[φανείας]), which is rather fitting for Zeus Panamaros.

I.Stratonikeia 7 = DB MAP S#5708, l. 5–6 (the decree honouring Leon, 166–147 BCE): ἀσυλίας ὑπαρχούσας τῶι Διῒ̣ καὶ Παναμαρεῦσιν. For Van Bremen 2004, 219–222, after Debord 2001b, 32, the asylia would precede the city foundation; contra Robert 1937, 520 and Laumonier 1958, 239, followed by Lozano 1992, 87.

This is why I consider it clumsy to list him as a Zeus "politique" like Rivault 2021, 230–233.

Bresson et al. 2001, no. 84 & 89. On the delicate question of the identification of the demes, Debord 2001a, 163–167.

I.Stratonikeia 111 = DB MAP S#6392; see Laumonier 1958, 243. See also I.Stratonikeia 112 = DB MAP 6393 (Διὶ Καρίωι [καὶ Ἥρ]αι καὶ τῶι δήμωι), which memorialized constructions in the Hera temple; the dedication to the dèmos, which is a unicum, does not betray per se a privileged link between Zeus Karios and the people.

I.Stratonikeia 200 = DB MAP S#6505, l. 8–11. Laumonier's translation, 1958, 244: "le temple (?) d'en face", does not seem satisfactory.

See also Artemis τῆς ἐν Παν[αμάρ]οις καὶ τῶν συνκαθιδρυμένων θεῶν, I.Stratonikeia 251 = DB MAP S#6762. On the lexicon of the sharing of cult places, see Pañeda Murcia 2021.

Hecate had no dedicated onomastic attribute, but a dedication Σωτίρῃ ("To the Savior" with no theonym) persuades of the 'transparency' of the attribute.<sup>75</sup> She was the first "greatest and the most manifest (μεγίστη καὶ ἐπιφανε̣στάτη)" local goddess, perhaps already from the revolt of Aristonikos on,76 certainly in any case in 81 BCE. A senatus consultum publicized her salvific providence during the Mithridatic war, during which Stratonicea had chosen the Romans' camp.<sup>77</sup> The strong link with Rome dated back to the end of the Rhodian domination over Caria (188–167),78 and the first testimonies of the cult of Hecate at Lagina also date from this time.<sup>79</sup> As a result of the Mithridatic war, the goddess not only gained an onomastic formula of "distinction" ([τῆς] Ἑκάτης ἐπιφανεστά[της καὶ μεγίστης θεᾶς],80 with the mention of the predicate thea81), fixed as ἡ μεγίστη καὶ ἐπιφανεστάτη θεὰ Ἑκάτη or with a shorter onomastic sequence containing only one attribute or the other.<sup>82</sup> Her glorification by name was doubled by a pairing with the thea Rhome (dea Roma) and material 'translations' for her sanctuary, granted many advantages including asylum (or rather its confirmation) which provided her a precious juridical capacity.83 Thus, as a "counter-gift", the pentetaeric festival of the Hekatesia-Rhomaia henceforth dedicated honours to Hecate Σωτείραι Ἐπιφανεῖ and to Rhome θεᾶι Εὐεργέτιδι (the goddess Rome Benefactress).84 It is no coincidence that, in the documents we have in any case, after the first use in 81, megiste kai epipanestate only become attributes of Hecate when alongside the appearance of Zeus Panamaros, who is only acclaimed as megas during his epiphany but who becomes megistos kai epiphanestatos in the honours he gets. The chronologi-

See supra n. 32.

I.Stratonikeia 504.

I.Stratonikeia 507 = DB MAP S#6994, l. 6–7.

I.Stratonikeia 300 = DB MAP S#6905. Otherwise there are only 7 mentions of Soteira in 103 attestations of the theonym Hekate: I.Stratonikeia 330 = DB MAP S#6948 (Ἑκάτῃ Σω[τίρῃ]), I.Stratonikeia 510 = DB MAP S#6995 (Ἑκάτηι Σωτείραι), I.Stratonikeia 516 = DB MAP S#6999 (Ἑκάτῃ Σωτείρῃ), and I.Stratonikeia 1108 = DB MAP S#7357 ([Ἑκά]τῃ Σωτείρᾳ); I.Stratonikeia 217 = DB MAP S#6579 (Ἑκάτῃ Σωτίρῃ ἐπιφανῖ), I.Stratonikeia 507 = DB MAP S#6994 (Ἑκάτηι Σωτείραι Ἐπιφανεῖ); and Aydaş 2009, no. 15 = DB MAP S#8475 (Ἑκάτηι Σωτείραι ἐπιφανεῖ). There is no other deity Soteira. The book of Johnston 1990, with this title, concerns the Hekate of the Chaldaic oracles.

I.Stratonikeia 505 = DB MAP S#6993.

See Bresson 2003. The relationships with Rhodes were never totally broken: in the imperial period, the Panamara sanctuary invites to its festivals "the Rhodians of Caria who are our neighbours", I.Stratonikeia 22, l. 8–9. See Hatzfeld 1927 and Bresson et al. 2001, no. 216.

I. Stratonikeia 505, 57 = DB MAP S#6993.

I.Stratonikeia 186, 197, 224, 289, 296b, 329 ([τῆς θεᾶς Ἑκά]της), 527, 663, 665a, 666, 704, 1420, 1428 = DB MAP S#6493, 6501, 6580, 6827, 6890, 6946, 7026, 7030, 7032, 7033, 7134, 8035, 8151.

For Hekate megiste alone, I.Stratonikeia 227, 255, 256, 513, 514, 523, 687 = DB MAP S#6581, 6770, 6774, 6997, 6998, 7025, 7089. For Hekate epiphanestate alone, I.Stratonikeia 113, 217 (Ἑκάτῃ Σωτίρῃ ἐπιφανῖ), 317, 699, 701, Aydaş 2009, no. 15 = DB MAP S#6397, 6579, 6939, 7125, 7126, 8475.

I.Stratonikeia 505 = DB MAP S#6993 and I.Stratonikeia 508 for the list of cities acknowledging the asylia and taking part in the festivals. See Rigsby 1996, 418–428; Van Bremen 2010; and Heller 2006, 65–68. The senatus consultum also renewed a treaty of alliance and friendship between Rome and the city.

cal observation is the same when Hecate has only one of these two attributes<sup>85</sup> – more numerous mentions for her (especially in Lagina) than for Zeus Panamaros, except in the city-centre where they are balanced because of the joint worship there. The Hecate of 81 served as a model for the creation of Zeus Panamaros, but it is thanks to him that the glorifying formula for the two powers spread.

The fact that an imposing female deity – a Titanide who participated into Zeus' birth according to some versions and comes into the mythological network of Artemis and Demeter86 – ruled an Anatolian city is not surprising in these countries of "Mothers" and "Artemis". But Caria stands out more for its male gods, "megistoi" beyond their multiple epicleses (especially topical) and quick to manifest themselves,87 most often referred to in Greek as Zeuses.<sup>88</sup>

# 3 Zeus Panamaros, Second Comer (but also First) Megistos Kai Epiphanestatos

All these Zeuses, including Karios and Chrysaoreios, continue, for some, to people the pantheon of Stratonicea until the 3rd century CE (according to the preserved documentation).89 Graph 1 shows their diversity (with no chronological distinctions), but fails to highlight the fact that only one is honoured as μέγιστος καὶ ἐπιφανέστατος. Zeus Panamaros is believed to have manifested himself in Panamara (ἐμ Παναμάροις) during a salvific epiphany in 40 BCE, that is to say, in a historical context which is no longer Carian but rather globalised given that it concerns the imperium of Rome. This is why, in Augustan times, this "newcomer" robbed from Chrysaoreios the place of second megistos divine patron of the city, and from Karios his ownership of the Panamara sanctuary. The dual divine configuration based on a spatial bipolarisation therefore remained, but it was redesigned in the light of the new geopolitics. For this investigation, this is significant for the balance between the two megistoi theoi, Hecate

Supra n. 82.

I cannot develop here the fact that the form monoprosopos (with one face) of the Laginean Hekate, a Titanide divine power (preceding the Olympian god who grants her timai according to Hesiod, see Zografou 2010, 25–37) who has a part in Zeus' birth according to the temple's reliefs – so different from the other Hekate known in Anatolia as well (triform, dark and frightening, power of all passages) –, might explain why the city choose her as a civic deity. On the iconography of the freeze and its re-examination, see since Schober 1933, Baumeister 2007 (with the recension of Queyrel 2009, who invites to a contextualized reading of the reliefs) and Van Bremen 2010.

See supra n. 38–39, and Laumonier 1958, index 755–768.

See supra n. 56. Apollo also, e.g. I.Stratonikeia 298 = DB MAP S#6898, as a "couple" with Artemis, and Laumonier 1958, 211–213.

See supra n. 7 et 11.

and Zeus Panamaros, also demonstrated in the preservation of the two asylias in Roman times, something unique for a city.<sup>90</sup>

Concerning the naming of the gods, the episode of the year 40 BCE provides a "historical" case of accessing the origin of a god by its name, which is unique, to my knowledge (it is not a case of renaming). During the territorial disruption linked to the civil war which followed Caesar's death in 44, Caria fell under the control of Labienus in 40. Upon his return, the "republican" general, who the murderers of the "tyrant" had sent to the Parthians, sought to seize southern Anatolia, including Stratonicea.91 I will refrain from going into detail about the "birth" of Zeus Panamaros during these troubles, which I have already studied.92 The inscription baptised by P. Roussel as the "miracle" <sup>93</sup> is the earliest occurrence of his onomastic features (Panamaros and megistos [restored]) – hence his "birth" – although later decrees, according to well-known rhetoric,94 set the deity and his epiphany in a tradition "from ancient days" (ἐκ παλ[αιῶνχρόνων]).

... ἐπει[δὴ ὁ μέγιστος Ζεὺς Πανάμαρος][καὶ πρότερον πολλὰς καὶ μεγάλας ἐπιφανεῖς ἐνήργησεν ἐνεργεία]ς εἰς τὴν τῆς πόλ[ε]ως σωτηρίαν ἐκ παλ[αιῶνχρόνων —][— μ]άλιστα δὲ νῦν, ἠγωνισμένου καὶ πεφηνά[ντος τοῦ θεοῦ τοῖς πολεμίοις,]

. . . Whereas, [already before, the greatest Zeus Panamaros had performed many and great deeds manifestly] for the salvation of the city since ancient times [. . .], even more so today, [the god], who fought and who manifested himself [against the enemies . . .].95

This inscription provides what could be called the "birth certificate" of the god, considering the name of the god is part of his making, as demonstrated in an exemplary manner by that of Sarapis.<sup>96</sup>

See Rigsby 1996, 419: "Stratoniceia's extraordinary honour of two inviolable temples seems to have been linked in both cases to the city's loyalty to Rome in the first century B.C.".

On the "raid of Labienus", see the map in Delrieux/Ferriès 2004, 50.

Belayche 2009 (followed by Rivault 2021, 236–240); I also explained why, contra some scholars (like Debord 2001a, 167: "le changement de l'épiclèse", and now Williamson 2021, 242 and 397: "the change in the epiklesis of the god"), it is impossible to assert that Zeus Panamaros is the new name of Zeus Karios since the two deities coexisted and cohabitated, and because, in a polytheistic conception, this would mean that the Karios disappeared, and this is contradicted by the evidence, see supra n. 65. Roussel 1931.

Girone 2003, 38, reads in it an authentication of the "miracle". I would not say so because it is a common formula, yet the acclamation functions as a legitimization, see infra n. 98.

I.Stratonikeia 10 = DB MAP S#5775, l. 2–4, transl. Belayche 2009, restitutions in italics. There is no base for argument for using the expression "from the ancient times" to identify Zeus Karios since no evidence ever relates him to any epiphaneia, even in late times. On the contrary I.Stratonikeia 15 = DB MAP S#5902, l. 3–4 (a second-century CE decree): ἐπεὶ ὁ μέγιστος καὶ ἐπιφανέστατος Ζεὺς Πανάμαρος σώζει τὴν πό[λιν διὰ παντὸςχρόνου] ("Given that the greatest and most present Zeus Panamaros saves the city in any time").

See Clement of Alexandria, Exhortation to the Greeks, 4.48 and Cyrillus of Alexandria, Against Julian, 1.16 [523CD]; see Borgeaud/Volokhine 2000. More broadly Belayche/Brulé et al. (eds.) 2005 (esp. I "Penser et écrire le nom", 18: "Le nom du dieu participe à la fabrication de celui-ci".).

#### 450 Nicole Belayche

ἀναβοών[των] μεγάλῃ τῇ φωνῇ Μέγαν εἶναι Δία Πανάμαρον those who cried aloud: Great is Zeus Panamaros (l. 13).<sup>97</sup>

This passage from the epiphany narrative expresses the legitimisation of the ontological power of the god through his acclamation, given that, since the Hellenistic period, acclamations had become one of the procedures for decision-making.<sup>98</sup> What is more, one cannot exclude that the acclamation (as in a "conversion") comes from the assailants "seized with madness (ἐνμανεῖς ὄντες)" <sup>99</sup> – a disruption consistent with the epiphanic experience, judging by the stereotype of bacchants. Indeed, these few lines (11–18) speak only of the assailants, but the syntax prevents us from being affirmative.<sup>100</sup> If the acclamation is indeed a result of the assailants' bewilderment when faced with a thundering and lightning god, it is even more evident that the name they give to the atmospheric power fighting them (l. 4 supra and 7) is "Zeus" of the place (Panamaros), and not that of the Carian owner of the sanctuary (Karios) that these mercenary troops ignored probably.

Here is the first testimony of the epithet Panamaros – since one must postpone after the 1st century BCE an obscure text from Hyllarima (a city adjoining Stratonicea), according to which an association of Eranists had consecrated the "ΓΡΟΜΕΩΣ (?) of Zeus Panamaros". <sup>101</sup> This invention of the god by means of a new epiclesis – a god exists first by his name pronounced in a ritual context, in this case an acclamation – was the cornerstone of a new image chosen by the city in the context of the new geopolitical world, because, by protecting the city, Zeus Panamaros had also contributed to the salvation of Rome. However, historical tradition failed to preserve the memory of this "miracle", if we are to believe the Stratonicean embassy of 22 which, according to Tacitus, argued only unfailing friendship and resistance to the Parthians (the army of Labienus), without mentioning this divine help which could however have made the difference with Aphrodisias, for example.<sup>102</sup> Cassius Dio neither does report any

See, of course, the acclamation of Artemis Ephesia in Luke-Acts 19.28 and 34.

Wiemer 2013.

I.Stratonikeia 10 = DB MAP S#5775, l. 17; see also l. 15: ἔξω τοῦ φρονεῖν γε]νόμενοι.

I.Stratonikeia 10 = DB MAP S#5775, l. 13: ἔτι δέ might introduce a behaviour of enemies different than those who desert, before ἄλλοι δέ (l. 14, yet a restitution) which might designate the Stratoniceans. Contra Merkelbach 1968 who understands a shout of gratitude from the Stratoniceans.

Debord/Varinlioğlu 2018, no. 33 = DB MAP S#8480, convincingly redated by Rivault 2021, 234, although reservations in the DB MAP. Robert 1937, 513–515, had dated the inscription of the second century BCE, thus, for Laumonier 1958, 241, it was "l'ancien nom du dieu indigène qui avait dû être toujours en usage dans les milieux purement indigènes". Yet there is no evidence anywhere before the "miracle".

Tacitus, Annals 3.62.2 : Aphrodisienses posthac et Strationicenses dictatoris Caesaris ob uetusta in partis merita et recens diui Augusti decretum adtulere, laudati quod Parthorum inruptionem nihil mutata in populum Romanum constantia pertulissent ("Aphrodisias and Stratonicea adduced a decree of the dictator Julius in return for their early services to his cause, together with a modern rescript of the deified Augustus, who praised the unchanging fidelity to the Roman nation with which they had sustained the Parthian inroad" (transl. Loeb).

supernatural help, but rather a series of banal exactions in times of war.<sup>103</sup> By way of comparison, also at Cnidus, the epiphany of Artemis Hyakinthotrophos (possibly during the siege of Philip V in 201 BCE) was only claimed locally and is not alluded to in the Delphi letter accepting the festival.<sup>104</sup>

According to the "miracle" inscription, the sanctuary of Panamara was marvellously spared, but it owes this not to its first Carian owner but rather to this new Zeus manifested as Panamaros. At a time when the cities of Asia were repositioning themselves in relation to the new Roman power, Stratonicea used the event of the siege of Labienus to create a new divine patron for itself, one destined for the highest honours, by building and mediating (in the region, but not in Rome) the epiphany of a saviour Zeus leading the fight . . .<sup>105</sup> for the greater glory of Rome at the same time. No sooner had Labienus left Caria, the Stratoniceans sent a large delegation to Rome (which shows just how much was at stake) to obtain confirmation of the privileges they expected from their precarious support in Rome. Sadly, the contents of the δόγμα (senatus consultum) dated from the 15th of August, 39, the Greek copy of which was engraved on the walls of the temple of Zeus Panamaros, are unknown due to its fragmentary state,<sup>106</sup> and the remaining traces do not state the name of the god. Another senatus consultum from the 30s confirms the asylum of the "sanctuary of Zeus who is in Panamara" ([τὸ δὲ] ἱε[ρὸν τοῦ Διὸς τοῦ ἐν Παναμ]άροις),107 therefore without revealing the epiclesis of the god. Is the formula fortuitous if we consider the identity of the first owner of the place, Zeus Karios? In a new order ruled by the Roman imperium, a Carian Zeus, patron of an ethnos, sounded politically anachronistic.108 It was better to put forth a god whose epiclesis was now only epichoric: Panamaros, who at the same time defended the interests of Stratonicea and Rome with his energeia (his power in action),109 without denying the existence of an earlier Zeus.

Cassius Dio, 48.26.4–5: "As for Stratonicea, he besieged it for a long time, but was unable to capture it in any way [. . .] Labienus proceeded to levy money and to rob the temples" (transl. Loeb). I. Stratonikeia 511 = DB MAP S#6996 (Lagina) may evoke this event or that of the Mithridatic war. Launey 19872 , 899 n. 6.

I.Stratonikeia 10 = DB MAP S#5775, l. 4 (quoted supra) and 10 (τοὺς μὲν μετὰ τοῦ θεοῦ μ[αχομένους]).

I.Stratonikeia 11 (= Sherk, Roman Documents 27, ll. 17–19); only preserved the names of the Roman senators and of the twelve Stratonicean ambassadors, among which was Stratos son of Menippos (an orator that Cicero called a master). None of them is a Roman citizen. Thus I am reluctant to see a link between the "birth" of the god and the influence of "nuevos señores romanos", like Lozano 1993, 93. I.Stratonikeia 12 = DB MAP S#5777, l. 5–9 and 15–16 (quotation) = Sherk, Roman Documents 30.

Yet the city claims once, under Hadrian, the title of "metropolis of Caria", I.Stratonikeia 15 = DB MAP S#5902, l. 2, in a decree which changes the eponymia of the city for the highest glory of a priestly family entered in the Roman citizenship. In my opinion, the claim seems more political than the indigenous plea envisioned by Heller 2006, 304. On the "rank of metropolis", see Guerber 2009, 116–119. See supra n. 67.

The epithet is possibly of Carian origin;<sup>110</sup> it is in any case demotic,111 and fits into the "imperial" context of its "revelation" which consequently places the scope of the god beyond the civic field. Moreover, the god who reveals himself during the attack on the sanctuary of Panamara is a Greek-style Zeus, whose field of action is atmospheric and who manifests himself through thunderbolts, thunder and lightning, fog.<sup>112</sup> This may have prepared a more transparent variation of the epiclesis in the Greek language, Panemerios/ros (Πανημέριος/ρος) "of all the day/every day". The form is attested from the 2nd century CE (with reservations of many undated inscriptions).113 While giving the epiclesis a more Hellenic color, it could also add a cosmic facet to the divinity, and, at the same time, a meaning: the "every day" or "all day" Zeus, in partnership with a Laginean Hecate of lunar tradition (as depicted on the monetary types), therefore nocturnal.

Anyhow, on the regional stage of the 2nd century, Stratonicea proclaimed to all those who came to the sanctuary of Panamara (thus the neighbouring cities)114 – citizens and strangers of all ages, sexes, conditions and domiciles, as written in the inscriptions of priesthoods' commemorations –<sup>115</sup> that the theos or theos patrios (ancestral god)116 invited them to come and participate in its euphrosyne, its ceremonial festivities, sometimes called μυστήριον (mystery). These inscriptions are difficult to date,117 but the 2nd century CE seems all the more probable as the use of the mystery vocabulary to designate a festive commensality with the god, the closest to him (a kind of theoxenia), matches the "mystericisation" of religious discourses attested from the 2nd century onwards.118 So, although not explicitly called with an epiclesis – perhaps precisely to persuade of his ancestry (a bit recent for him) – the Panamarean was the host god and he

According to Oppermann 1924; see also Laumonier 1958, 221 n. 3. According to Pausanias 8.10.4, the Carians of Mylasa (the great rival Carian city in the second century BCE) have a Zeus sanctuary "called [the verb is in the present tense] in the native tongue (phônè epichôria) Osogoa". In my opinion, the use of epicleseis with a local origin is too light an argument for acknowledging a "conscience régionale", Bresson 2007, 228.

Laumonier 1958, 241 n. 6.

I.Stratonikeia 10, 7, 12, 9–10 and 14–15.

E.g. I.Stratonikeia 281 = DB MAP S#6810. The two spellings can coexist in the same text, e.g. I.Stratonikeia 276 = DB MAP S#6794, l. 7 and 17–18.

E.g. I.Stratonikeia 236 = DB MAP S#675, 1, l. 6.

E.g. I.Stratonikeia 244 = DB MAP S#6752, l. 23–26; I.Stratonikeia 205 = DB MAP S#6702, l. 31–32; I.Stratonikeia 210, l. 7–8; and 256 = DB MAP S#6774, l. 9–10.

I.Stratonikeia 22–39; the god is called ho theos or ho patrios theos (I.Stratonikeia 23, 33 and 35 = DB MAP S#6330, 6342 and 6343), once Zeus (I.Stratonikeia 27). See Bowersock 1999.

Hatzfeld 1927, 73 (Augustan times); Laumonier 1958, 257 (second century CE); Sahin 1981 dates I.Stratonikeia 14 of the end of the second century BCE.

For Theo of Smyrna, De utilitate mathematicae p. 14–15 Hiller (= P. Scarpi, Le religioni dei misteri, I. Eleusi, Dionisismo, Orfismo, Milan, 2002, E7), the fifth and last step to the initiation was that of the felicity experienced during the stay in the divine intimacy (κατὰ τὸ [. . .] θεοῖς συνδίαιτον εὐδαιμονία). See Belayche/Massa/Hoffmann (eds.) 2021.

publicized his patronage of the city ad extra, in the same way as Hecate whose asylum had long been recognised.119 All these pilgrims could see or read the decree of the "miracle", and the Stratoniceans did not hesitate to refer to it regularly in their communication. The features of this new Zeus marked a shift in the religious image that Stratonicea wanted to give of itself, alongside Hecate who continued to represent its first ancestry. It is a good example, in my opinion, of how religious dynamics worked, between tradition and innovation.120

# 4 Which Balance Between the Two Divine Powers "Megistos/e kai Epiphanestatos/e"?

Fig. 3: Didrachm depicting Hekate on the obverse (in the field the name of the magistrate Sopyros) and Zeus Panamaros on horseback on the reverse (in the field ΣΤΡΑ).

A silver didrachm struck by Stratonicea (Fig. 3) provides the visual and chronological expression (from the obverse to the reverse) of the new dual patronage at the very moment it is set in: A.R. Meadows dates it to "no earlier than the 30s BCE", <sup>121</sup> thus the moment of the Panamaros' "birth".

The equestrian figure of Zeus Panamaros on the reverse is distinctive and new in the coinage of the city; it would become the standard depiction of the god on the coinage of the imperial period. It is tempting to suggest that the appearance of this new type on the coinage of the city may have a special significance.<sup>122</sup>

See supra n. 83.

On the "ritual dynamics" often revealed by heavy claims to the fidelity to traditions, see Chaniotis 2005.

Meadows 2002, 95, no. 4.A.i; see also 124–125.

Meadows 2002, 111.

The bust of Hecate with the crescent, in its traditional form (cf. Fig. 2b), is on the obverse – she was first –, while the reverse shows the newcomer, Zeus Panamaros, as a horseman god of Anatolian tradition, different from the Greek-type Zeus on the coins from the Hellenistic period (cf. Fig. 2a).123 A choice of this type may have been aimed at evoking the annual processional movement from the sanctuary to the city. The balance between the two deities seems all the more equal as their salutary epiphanies happened in similar historical situations with regard to the Roman issue124 and they had the same effects in the relationships with Rome. Gender identities do not seem to weigh in the balance, confirming the fact that a goddess is primarily a theos/a as Nicole Loraux put it.125 The preambles of a decree of the end of the 2nd century CE, establishing a daily children's choir, recall the point, as well as the importance for Rome of these salutary epiphanies:126

the providence (pronoia) of the greatest (megistoi) protector (proestotoi) gods, Zeus Panemerios and Hecate" [. . . who saved the city from great and numerous dangers], "whose inviolable sanctuaries the sacred Senate has recognized by a decree, to which it has granted the right of receiving suppliants, on account of the evident miracles which they have produced in the interest of the eternal dominion of our Roman overlords ([ὑπὲρ] τῆς τῶν κυρίων Ῥωμαίων αἰωνίου ἀρχῆς ἐποιήσαντο προφανεῖς ἐναργείας).<sup>127</sup>

However, the balance between the two divine powers leans towards Zeus Panamaros for political reasons. Distinguished by the invariable formula megiste kai epiphanestate, Hecate (with a majority of inscriptions coming from Lagina) is identified as such in over 2/3 of the testimonies in the Roman period, against c. 1/3 for the Zeus of Panamara, megistos kai epiphanestatos. But this quantitative observation must be nuanced by the nature of the documents, because in Lagina commemorative inscriptions are more numerous (see supra), and these self-illustrative documents involve in their rhetoric of exaltation the deity (or deities) concerned. Besides, the total number of testimonies of Hecate with epiclesis is three times lower than that of Zeus Panamaros

See e.g., the god Mèn, Delemen 1999, no. 313–358. An exception under Septimius Severus, a reverse figuring a throning Zeus of Greco-Roman type, holding a sceptre in the left hand and a patera in the right hand, BMC Caria 51.

Yet their forms of expression are different: that of Hekate grants her an onomastic sequence, but without the epigraphic advertisement given to that of Zeus Panamaros half a century later (I.Stratonikeia 10), during the Augustean "turn" for the cities of the Western Anatolia. For other epigraphic narratives of epiphaneiai, see e.g. RICIS 202/0101 (at the Sarapieion A of Delos) and the iamata on the walls of the Epidauros' sanctuary. In the Lydian and Phrygian rural sanctuaries, the deities themselves require the engraving of their dynamis (power) / arètai (powers), see Petzl 1994 and Belayche 2006.

Loraux 1991. On the factor of gender in civic patronage, see Pironti 2013, 159: "dans les panthéons locaux, la fonction de divinité tutélaire revient, plus souvent qu'à Zeus, à des déesses comme Athéna, Héra ou Artémis".

The goddess Roma is continuously depicted on coins of the imperial period, Delrieux 2013.

I.Stratonikeia 1101 = DB MAP S#7200, l. 2–4. See Robert 1937, 516–521.

(c. 17% compared to c. 48% of the sources from Stratonicea in the DB MAP).<sup>128</sup> This fact arithmetically lowers the weight of this proportion. When the two deities are cited together, Zeus always precedes Hecate, except in a document from Panamara where the order of the deities corresponds to that of the priesthoods served by the honoured one.<sup>129</sup> The coins provide a visual expression of this order: Hecate never again appears on the obverse, as in the issue which published the arrival of the Panamarean at the end of the 1st century BCE (Fig. 3). Either Zeus Panamaros is on the obverse (Fig. 4), or the emperor, as the rule is in the imperial civic coinage (Fig. 5).

Fig. 4: Stratonicea, second century CE (BMC Caria 42 and pl. XXIV.4). O.: Zeus Panamaros bearded and radiated, carrying a sceptre on the left shoulder, on horseback (CTΡATONIKEΩN in the field). R.: Hekate with inflated veil, riding on a lion with radiate head and dog's tail

(ΨHΦICAMENOY ΦΛAYBIOY ΔIOMHΔOYC in the field).

One can also wonder whether the fact that, in Panamara, ritual agents with Roman citizenship are more numerous than in Lagina (Flavii in particular)130 provides a supplementary clue to the greater political importance of the god. The coinage, along with the order of citation in the inscriptions, does not, after examination, establish a religious hierarchy between the two divine powers, equal like all supernatural powers. The religious tool was made to serve a political project, congruent with the new Mediterranean order.

Zeus Panamaros is not only overrepresented at Panamara, as expected; outside his sanctuary, in the city and in Lagina, he accounts for c. 50% of the mentions of a "Zeus". The fact is linked to the nature of the evidence (commemorations of priesthoods, more than 50%).

I.Stratonikeia 186 = DB MAP S#6493: μετὰ [ἀρχιερωσύνην καὶ ἱερωσύνην τῆς μεγίστης καὶ ἐπιφανεστάτης θεᾶς Ἑ]κάτης καὶ το[ῦ Διὸς], first half of the second century.

See Laumonier 1958, 341–343.

Fig. 5: Stratonicea, 202–205 CE (SNG Von Aulock 2694). O.: busts of Caracalla and Plautilla (with the name of the magistrat Dionysios). R.: Hekate facing forwards, wearing the polos, a moon crescent on her shoulders, holding a patera and a torch, with a dog at her feet.

# 5 Conclusion

It has been noted that the place of discovery of the inscriptions does not provide a relevant argument that allows us to appreciate the theological balance between the two deities due to the number of priesthoods' commemorations, often successive and involving several family members. The display location depends on the career moment of each priest or priestess or another cult agent from their family (such as the kleidophoroi / bearers of the key), knowing that the two sanctuaries were both epiphanestatoi topoi, high-profile locations.131 It is impossible, therefore, to infer from these data the scope of one deity or the other. When Zeus and Hecate are mentioned together, the events of 81 and 40/39 work in a doublet fashion, fuelled by the usual rhetoric for salutary deities after they manifest their energeia (their power in action), to the point where both deities become the epiphanestatoi theoi indiscriminately132 and the children's daily choir glorifies them together at the bouleuterion of the city. But Zeus comes first.133 Hecate

E.g. I.Stratonikeia 667 = DB MAP S#7035 (Thrason Leon, son of Hieroklès, priest of the "greatest Zeus Panamaros" at 16 years old, under Hadrian) comes from Lagina, maybe because his daughter was kleidophoros. Yet contra I.Stratonikeia 254, found at Panamara, with a priestess and kleidophoros of Hekate.

I.Stratonikeia 1101 = DB MAP S#7200.

Stratonikeia being an exception, it is difficult to find comparisons. And yet it would be interesting to compare with other frequent male-female "pairings", like Apollo-Artemis, Hestia-Hermes, Zeus-Dionè (see in this volume the contribution of F. Quantin, p. 415–422), even Isis-Sarapis (though it is a peculiar "couple", in order to appreciate the gender factor. But see Pironti 2013, 163: "admettre que le profil des divinités se définit en fonction d'un contexte précis et des relations qu'elles y entretiennent avec d'autres puissances divines, davantage qu'en fonction du genre".

continues to reign as mistress in her sanctuary, on the reliefs of her temple where she is linked to the cycle of the birth of Zeus, and during the sumptuous ceremonies of the Kleidophoria (the festival of the key)134 which takes up a whole month of the Stratoniceans' liturgical year. A parallel to this festival is the anabasis (the ascent) of Zeus Panamaros, built on the same model (a round-trip procession from his sanctuary) and providing the same euergetist festivities and liberalities – hence the similar denominations for Zeus and Hecate. The Stratonicean exception therefore does not reflect a hierarchy in a civic pantheon, but rather two comparable historical situations from which the city drew the best diplomatic advantage by relying on its gods. It explains the (relative) prominence of Zeus Panamaros "born" at the same time as the Imperial era as megistos, epiphanestatos and patrios theos, without downgrading Hecate who preceded him in the patronage of the city and served as a model for him. This would explain why "the priesthood of Hekate was the most prominent in the series of Stratonicean high priesthoods; it generally crowned the career" according to A. Laumonier.135 Yet, more than sixty years later, we would need to resume the prosopography of ritual agents at Stratonicea in order to update a refined chronology.

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Part 5: Human Names, Divine Names

# Robert Parker and Jean-Baptiste Yon Introduction

Naming is one of the ways in which societies classify the contents of their worlds, but it is done differently in different places and times. Diodorus Siculus (20.58.4) tells us of a region of Libya where monkeys are revered as gods and where "parents mostly give children their names from monkeys as we do from gods" – so pithekophoric names. If you hear me cry out "Jesus" in the streets of Oxford, you will think I am a vulgar person using a blasphemous exclamation, but if I do it in Spain, with Spanish pronunciation and stress, you will think I am calling to a friend: in Spanish it is an accepted personal name. In England there are, to my knowledge, no laws governing naming, but that was not the case in Athens: there, you could not call a slave Harmodios or Aristogeiton; the two supposed founders of Athenian freedom could not be associated with servility. Those have been differences in place but there are also obviously differences in time. In English the kind of name you would give to your dog or cat was traditionally different from what you would give your son or daughter, but the distinction between animal names and human names is much blurred nowadays: it is not difficult to meet a dog called Charlie these days, even though that name is based on the name of our present king. (That movement has, however, so far been one way, from human to dog; I do not yet know of typical dog names given to humans, I have never met a Towser who could speak.)

# 1 Greek Names

The topic in this section is partly that of barriers or absence of barriers in naming. It is well known that until the first c. CE Greeks could bear names based on god's names but not identical with them: they could be called Dionysios or Demetrios, but not Dionysos or Demeter. This principle broke down around the 2nd century CE but still only for a limited number of names: a human could be Hermeias, but still not Zeus or Aphrodite. Until very recently there was a single apparent exception to this sharp division between human and divine names: a woman on a stone of the third century BCE from Tenos was apparently called Here, so Hera in an Ionic form. But Julien Faguer has now brilliantly re-interpreted the stone, recognising in ΗΡΗΣ the beginning of a month name Eresion.1

Our section treats various aspects of the separation and partial coming together of human and divine names and naming. Anna Heller discusses to what extent gods and mortals share epithets. "The aim of this paper", she says, "is to study these over-

Faguer 2020, 164–170.

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-023

laps in order to reflect on the interactions and cross-references between two apparently separated systems: the naming of gods and the honouring of humans." <sup>2</sup> So, the premise is that in the main honouring a human is one thing, honouring a god another, and different vocabularies are appropriate in the two cases. But there are exceptions: some of these are odd isolated cases, but ktistes and soter are quite regularly applied to both gods and men. And the feminine form of the latter raises an interesting point. In contrast to the many epithets shared between goddesses and women, Heller points out that goddesses can be "saviours" (soteirai) but women cannot. Her example is a neat confirmation of what Loraux argued in a famous paper in 1992: goddesses ultimately aren't women, goddesses' powers are greater, however much they resemble women from the outside. Mortal men can save but mortal women cannot.

Thus far, the issue has been that of how far men and gods were distinguished through distinct sets of epithets. For Christians, the issue was quite different. For them, the crucial separation was not between men and gods but between Christians and pagans. Christians were faced with a name stock a substantial proportion of which consisted of so-called theophoric names, names such as Demetrios based on and honouring though not identical with those of pagan gods; other pagans just took names that ran in their family but still expressed no Christian allegiance. John Chrysostom in the late 4th century CE famously urged his hearers "Let no one desire to name his children by the names of his forebears, of his father, mother, grandfather, great-grandfather, but by those of the righteous – martyrs, bishops, apostles." <sup>3</sup> Christian naming is the theme of the joint paper of Urciuoli and Gordon. They ask "How did early Christian writers who adopted theophoric names for themselves or employed them for others navigate the line between misuse and honor, religious scruple and religious tribute?" <sup>4</sup> (En passant they introduce what is apparently a new but useful word, "onomaturgy": will it end up in the Oxford English Dictionary?) Some names were of course indeterminate between paganism and Christianity: so for instance Luke, in addressing both his Gospel and Acts to 'excellent Theophilus', was revealing nothing about his addressee's religious allegiance though hinting that he may already have been within the Christian fold. The name of the Diognetos addressed in an anonymous tract, by contrast, suggests Zeus: Urciuoli and Gordon see the choice of name as indicating him as a target for conversion. Their main case study is that of a Christian bearer of a pagan name who adopted an extra name or nickname: Ignatius of Antioch, who at a certain point took on the nickname (not used by pagans) Theophóros, with that stress, "god-bearer", like Christophóros, "Christ-bearer", not of course theóphoros "possessed by god".

Heller, in this volume, 553.

Sur la vaine gloire et l'éducation des enfants, c. 47, ed. A.M. Malingrey (Paris, 1972), 146. 648–651.

Urciuoli/Gordon, in this volume, 570.

Following on this line of thought, the paper of Andrade addresses the issue of the transformation of onomastics at the time of christianization. Not limiting himself to Greek or Semitic names, because both categories were in use for pagans and for Christians in the late antique Near East, he shows how in continuity with traditional practice Christians bore ambiguously or implicitly theophoric names: e.g. Symeon was derived from the Semitic root šmʿ "to listen," without specifying which god was listening. Conversely, one can note a change of pattern: "people increasingly bore the names of saints, martyrs, and ascetics that had become popular," which might explain why pagan theophoric names were still in use, despite being easily recognizable as such.

### 2 In-Betweens

Reflecting on Luwic onomastics, Réveilhac draws our attention to the way personal names were formed with divine epithets or designations, implicitly referring to a deity. The divine name was thus hidden. Likewise, a toponym like Aleppo included in a personal name had to be understood as a reference to the Storm-God, because the city of Aleppo was a major place of worship for this deity: the name <sup>f</sup> Halpa-wiya "Aleppo sent" had to be understood as "(The Storm-God of) Aleppo sent (her)". As is clear from the examples adduced by Réveilhac, there was ample space for ambiguity, because of the relation with an implied divine name. As in the case of Christian and pagan names in late antiquity (Andrade), ambiguously or implicitly theophoric names were very numerous. They reveal too a wealth of vocabulary pertaining to religious life and divine designations, particularly important in a corpus of a very fragmentary nature.

### 3 Semitic Names

Semitic names in antiquity were not substantially different from Greek names in the huge proportion of theophorics as well as in the separation between mortal and human names: no human was called "Baal", but "Gift of Baal", or "Baal has done so-and-so".

Surprisingly to the modern eye, the meaning of Semitic names is often transparent (as it is for most Greek names) and this has often been used as a way to understand ancient societies. Reflection on the vast number of theophoric names in the languages of antiquity has often been used to describe pantheons and, whatever the dangers, to go back in time. However, as has often been underlined, it is not always possible to ascertain if the meaning was really considered when the name was given: the name of a child was frequently taken from his grandfather or one of his ancestors. Fashion and local habits are another source of uncertainty on this point. In the three studies which deal with Semitic onomastics in this section on human and divine names, these caveats are taken into consideration.

The first two (Minunno and Simonson; for Andrade see above) are good examples as well of the classic method for the study of Semitic personal names, following in the steps of such great names as Martin Noth or Jürgen Stark.5 They represent variations on this time-proven methodology, which includes both a classification of the formation of names ("personal names comprise theophoric and non-theophoric elements that function as onomastic sequences") and a lexicon for the meaning of these names, shedding light on the pantheons and divine constellations of particular groups of population, namely here Punic Carthage (Minunno), and Iron Age Elephantine (Simonson), or, to adopt the words of one of the contributors, the "study of the relationship between ancient humans and their deities".

Interestingly, they underline the discrepancy between the known pantheon and the use of divine names in human onomastics: usefully highlighted by Minunno is the example of the Punic goddess Tanit, rather rare among theophoric human names at Carthage. Besides, attributes well represented in the cult of a particular deity (such as the word qadish, "saint") are not necessarily represented in the personal names formed from the same divine name. Conversely, "the lack of an attribute from the onomastic record concerning a deity does not imply the irrelevance of that attribute for the same deity." One similar phenomenon, well attested in Semitic onomastics, is the frequency of abbreviated, so-called hypocoristic names, which consequently hide the divine name present in the compound, introducing an ambiguity as to the identity of the latter.

Both authors manage to avoid numerous pitfalls, for instance that of assigning ethnicity to an individual according to his personal name; in regard to that pitfall, Simonson draws our attention to the context, in the case of Elephantine that of a very complex and multi-ethnic society. The very important issue of chronology is also addressed in the presentation of Simonson, who again proposes to look at the context of use of the non-theophoric elements of the names, because as Robert Parker effectively puts it6 there is a strong possibility of "names outliving the religious context in which they were first bestowed", hence the importance of defining precisely this context, keeping in mind too that a name is bestowed by the parents and does not say anything about the individual himself.

Noth 1928; Stark 1971.

Parker 2000, 64.

# Bibliography


Stark, Jürgen K. (1971), Personal Names in Palmyrene Inscriptions, Oxford.

# Florian Réveilhac In the Name of Gods. In Search of Divine Epithets Through Luwic Personal Names

Abstract: Recent work on personal names in Luwic languages (mainly Luwian, Lycian and Carian) has shown that divine epithets play an important role in their formation. The present article takes this line of inquiry one step further by proposing a method for identifying divine epithets in these anthroponyms. Theonym + divine epithet formulae attested in the different corpora are sometimes directly or indirectly reflected in personal names. In other cases, it is possible to restore divine onomastic formulae through personal names thanks to a combinatorial analysis and parallels. It is then provisionally proposed to identify five main types of divine epithets entering into the formation of Luwic personal names: geographical epithets, epithets corresponding to the place of action of the deity, functional epithets, laudatory epithets and divine titles.

# 1 Introduction

The importance of anthroponymy in the study of Anatolian languages and cultures is no longer in any doubt:1 for several decades, this material has played a crucial role in understanding languages with often fragmentary corpora and peoples whose history is sometimes still unclear. It is therefore logical that onomastics has been the subject of several crucial works, allowing philologists, linguists, historians and historians of religions to better understand their objects of study. The great specificity of Anatolian onomastics is the diversity of its sources and the chronological depth of its attestations. Indeed, the Anatolian languages, that is, conventionally, the Indo-European languages attested in Anatolia and belonging to the Anatolian group (excluding, for example, Phrygian and Galatian, which are certainly Indo-European languages attested in Anatolia,

I would like to thank the editors for their invitation to contribute to this volume. The considerations presented here were carried out in the initial stage of the project I am currently conducting under a fellowship from the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, which I thank for its support. The abbreviations used are as follows: Car. = Caria(n), Cil. = Cilicia, Cun. = Cuneiform, Gk. = Greek, Hier. = Hieroglyphics, Hitt. = Hittite, Kibyr. = Kibyratis, (C/H)Luw. = (Cuneiform/Hieroglyphic) Luwian, Lyc. = Lycia(n), Pamph. = Pamphylia, PIE = Proto-Indo-European, Pis. = Pisidia(n). Each personal name cited in Greek is followed by a mention of its region of origin; for full references, see LGPN 5b (Car., Cil., Lyc.) and 5c (Kibyr., Pamph., Pis.). For name references in Carian, see Adiego 2007. Finally, it is worth mentioning the existence of the LAMAN interface (<https://laman.hittites.org>), developed by Ali Akman and Michele Cammarosano, which greatly facilitates research on anthroponyms attested in Hittite, cuneiform and hieroglyphic sources.

but belonging to different branches), have been directly attested for more than a millennium: Hittite, Luwian and Palaic, in the Bronze Age, in cuneiform script; Hieroglyphic Luwian, between the Bronze and early Iron Ages; and the languages attested in the first millennium, Lydian, Carian, Lycian, Sidetic and Pisidian, written in local alphabets. Moreover, even after the disappearance of direct attestations, Anatolian personal names remained in the Greek documentation of Anatolia until the Imperial Roman period, thus providing a valuable extension of the continuity that has characterised Anatolian anthroponymy since the second millennium.

Within Anatolian personal names, as with other ancient anthroponymic systems, the category of theophoric names has a special place. Indeed, as names referring to deities, they are indicative of the "degré de popularité des dieux d'un panthéon, en dehors de toute influence littéraire" <sup>2</sup> and the durability of certain cults in Anatolia, but, from an anthropological point of view, they also constitute the manifestation of the intimate link that binds men to gods. Giving a child a divine name is both a desire to place this child under the protection of the deity and also the accomplishment of an act of devotion on the part of the name giver.3

The Anatolian religious world is better documented in the second millennium than in the first because of the large amount of cuneiform documents found, especially in the archives of the palace of Hattusa. This is therefore a good starting point to try to understand the polytheistic system of the Anatolian peoples, even if there are obviously important specificities according to regions and periods. The Hittite pantheon, remarkably vast, as the famous expression referring to the "thousand gods of Hatti" implies, was also plural, with a core composed of gods of Hattian origin and properly Indo-European divinities (Hittite and Luwian),<sup>4</sup> prior to the integration of Syrian, Hurrian and Mesopotamian deities as a result of the Hittite conquests.5 In the Syro-Hittite (or Neo-Hittite) states, which emerged after the fall of the Hittite Empire, monumental inscriptions in Anatolian hieroglyphics testify to this same plurality by mentioning several deities of diverse origin. Unfortunately, the data are more limited in the Anatolian alphabetic corpora, which are fragmentary by nature, but there is continuity between the different periods, especially within the Luwic languages, which designate an Anatolian subgroup that includes the Luwian, Lycian, Carian and probably also Pisidian and Sidetic languages, which share several common features.6

The present contribution therefore aims not to embrace the broad question of theophoric names in Luwic languages, but rather to open the discussion on the place of divine epithets in the formation of anthroponyms. After a brief review of the litera-

Laroche 1966, 294.

Theophoric names in Hittite Anatolia were recently the subject of a presentation by A. Mouton 2022, who explored the anthropological dimension of naming.

Archi 1993; Schwemer 2006; Cammarosano 2018, 51.

Singer 1994; Schwemer 2008.

Melchert 2003, 177 n. 7.

ture on this subject, we shall propose some definitions and an initial method for analysing anthroponyms. The rest of the article will provide a preliminary typology of divine epithets identified in Luwic personal names.

# 2 The Role of Divine Epithets in the Formation of Luwic Personal Names: Status Quaestionis

In reference works on Anatolian theophoric names, long pages are devoted to the various names of gods used, but references to divine epithets are much more discreet. Thus, in chapter six of his opus, Houwink ten Cate admits that some lexical terms used in the formation of Lycian and Cilician names could refer to divine names, such as certain kinship terms<sup>7</sup> or abstracts, in the specific case of Luw. /piha-/ "splendour, might", acknowledging that pihaššašša/i‑ and pihaima/i‑ are used as epithets of the Storm-God.8 In his formal classification of theophoric names, E. Laroche distinguishes six main types:9


Types 3) and 4) group together anthroponyms with a divine epithet, which is especially obvious in type 3), since it consists of geographical epithets. It is of a diverse nature in type 4), grouping adjective attributes (e.g. ura‑ "great", wašu‑ "good") and nominal attributes, as genitival determinatives (e.g. Hier. /Huha-sarma-/ "Sarruma of the Grandfather", referring to the ancestral and dynastic cult) or in apposition to the divine name (e.g. Cun. <sup>f</sup> Anni-maššani‑ "Mother-Goddess"). The French scholar even points out that compounds of type 4) constitute a "[t]ype peu fréquent, dont la plupart des représentants posent des problèmes difficiles, parce que l'attribut appartient au vocabulaire louvite", <sup>11</sup> the Luwian language being largely unknown at the time. More recently, in his monograph on Hittite women's names, Th. Zehnder also devotes a sec-

Houwink ten Cate 1961, 155–156.

Houwink ten Cate 1961, 139.

Laroche 1966, 281–287.

Such names are, however, attested in Hurrian personal onomastics; see Richter 2016, 23–24.

Laroche 1966, 283.

tion to theophoric names, more or less following Laroche's classification, while acknowledging nevertheless that, among the ethnics converted into anthroponyms, some could refer to a deity associated with the place in question.12 The same discretion is found in H. C. Melchert's seminal article on Western Anatolian personal names,<sup>13</sup> where only those that carry a theonym in the strict sense are considered theophoric names, even though the author suggests, like Houwink ten Cate before him, that some bases such as /piha-/ should probably be understood as divine epithets. In all these basic studies, therefore, theophoric names are understood in the strict sense and the identification of divine epithets is limited to cases where they enter into composition with a divine name, even if occasional mention is made of cases where behind this or that lexical base there might be a reference to a deity.

The use of divine epithets in the Anatolian worlds is in fact widespread from the second millennium onwards, as V. Haas remarks

Götter sind mit Epitheta versehen, die, wie viele der Namen selbst, den Vorstellungskreis, die Eigenschaften und den Funktionsbereich der betreffenden Gottheit definieren. Die Anzahl solcher dem Namen beigefügten Adjektive, Attribute und Beinamen ist Ausdruck der Machtfülle der Gottheit.14

Some of these epithets, such as "terrible" or "terrifying", are attached to several deities, while others are specific to one god or goddess. Despite (or because of) the great variety and richness of divine epithets in the Anatolian worlds, no specific study has been devoted to them. In a seminal study dealing with Hittite "divine epithets", A. Mouton highlights the absence of complete editions of Hittite religious texts that would allow an exhaustive study of the appearance contexts of divine epithets.15 The Hittite-Luwian ritual texts have been the subject of an edition and a commentary that will be published very soon and that will allow this work to be carried out partially.<sup>16</sup> In the other corpora, in hieroglyphics and indigenous alphabets, the proportion of truly religious texts is smaller than for the cuneiform tablets, which obviously limits our understanding of the meaning and uses of divine epithets in context. Moreover, we are still confronted with the impenetrability of certain corpora, which makes the interpretation of certain words, or even entire texts, difficult for the moment. Another problem is the fixed nature of these designations, which does not sufficiently take into account the changing nature of the names. Thus, a divine epithet can end up replacing the theonym, as in the case of the Luwian adjectives pihaim(m)a/i‑ and piham- (ma)a/i‑ "imbued with splendour", associated in Hittite context with the Storm-God d U, before being used as theonyms, as indicated by the determinative preceding the

Zehnder 2010, 57–61.

Melchert 2013.

Haas 1994, 312.

Mouton 2020, 227.

Yakubovich/Mouton 2023.

divine name in <sup>d</sup> Pihaimiš and <sup>d</sup> Pihammiš. <sup>17</sup> The Luwian name for the Storm-God, Tarhunt, was itself originally an epithet going back to PIE ✶ tr̥h2went‑ "conquering" and the consonance of which must have recalled the name of the Hattian Storm-God Taru.18

Finally, it is only very recently that the place of divine epithets in Luwian anthroponymy has been highlighted. I. Yakubovich shows that, alongside transparent theophoric names such as <sup>f</sup> Arma-wiya‑ "Arma (Moon-God) sent (her)" or <sup>f</sup> Santa-wiya‑ "Santa (War-God) sent (her)", there are theophoric names such as <sup>f</sup> Halpa-wiya‑ "(Storm-God of) Aleppo sent (her)" or <sup>f</sup> Piha-wiya‑ "(Storm-God of) Splendour sent (her)", in which the geographical epithet or divine attribute is used instead of the theonym.19 This new analysis provides interesting insights: not only does it suggest that the very many names formed by means of a toponym, rather than referring to the geographical origin of the bearers of the name, are in fact theophoric names, but it also sheds light on several anthroponyms which, up until then, had no satisfactory interpretation. Indeed, as pointed out by I. Yakubovich, "the explanatory power of the suggested hypothesis is obvious once we consider the absurdity of personal names such as 'Pledged to the road' or 'Strength of the meadow'", <sup>20</sup> whereas such names fit into a coherent system when understood as "Pledge to (the god(s) of) the Road" or "Having the strength of (Ishtar/the Protective God of) the Meadow". In these personal names, the ellipsis of the theonym can sometimes be compensated for by the attestation of theonym + epithet formulae in the various documents. Sometimes, the key to reading is provided by other names combining the divine name and the epithet. An ambiguity remains, however, when the divine epithet is associated with more than one divine name. Thus, the name Immara-ziti‑ "Man of (the X-God of) the Open Country" can refer to the Storm-God of the Open Country (Cun. im(ma)rašša <sup>d</sup> IŠKUR)<sup>21</sup> or the Protective God of the Open Country (Hier. imára/i (DEUS)CERVUS3).22 Finally, in other cases, it is not possible to restore the theonym associated with the epithet, in the absence of attestation of the theonym + epithet formula.

This same path has recently been followed by I.-X. Adiego, who also uses onomastic data from the alphabetic Anatolian corpora and Greek sources to highlight the use of divine epithets in the formation of anthroponyms.<sup>23</sup> The article thus sheds new light on several names, such as Gk. Troko-arbasis, which is related to the formula trqq[i]z: […] er[b]besi=ke "Trqqñt (Storm-God) of Turmoil" found in the Lycian B part of the Xanthos Poem (TAM I, 44d.12–13) and whose epithet alone has been converted into an

See Hutter 2003, 220–221, with references.


Adiego 2022, 83–86.

CHD P, 253.

Yakubovich 2013, 98–107.

ANCOZ 1 §2 (Hawkins 2000, 346); ANCOZ 10 §5 (Hawkins 2000, 360) etc.

anthroponym in Gk. Arbasis "(Storm-God of) Turmoil", in the manner of the advocaciones mariales still encountered today in Spanish onomastics, whether they refer to a shrine (e.g. Guadalupe, Carmen, Lourdes), to a feast (e.g. Natividad, Asunción) or to a function (e.g. Pastora, Milagros, Paz, Remedios).

# 3 An Approach to be Renewed: Elements of Definition and Method

In the context of this preliminary study, is it possible to be a little more precise about the nature of the various divine epithets used in the anthroponymy of Luwic languages? The designation "divine epithet" is indeed general and needs to be clarified. It is perhaps useful to recall a few elements of definition, even if this delicate undertaking in such a field is more suited to the historian of religions than the linguist. N. Belayche and F. Prost write that

[l]'épiclèse se distingue de l'épithète littéraire en ce qu'elle remplit une fonction symbolique : elle va bien au-delà d'un acte simple de qualification, elle implique un culte, elle renvoie à un cadre spécifique. Elle peut être de nature diverse. Toponymique [. . .], topographique [. . .], fonctionnelle [. . .], historique [. . .], elle détermine le dieu et lui confère une nature particulière. Plus peut-être que le nom, l'épiclèse individualise le dieu, même si elle n'est pas la propriété exclusive de lui seul (il y a un Zeus Phratrios et une Athéna Phratria et Hercule comme Sol sont 'inuictus') et même si elle n'est pas la caractéristique exclusive d'un culte en un lieu unique (Apollon Pythien est honoré dans toute la Méditerranée orientale et Jupiter Capitolin dans les colonies romaines de l'Empire).24

In this definition, therefore, epiclesis, unlike the epithet used in literary texts, is closely associated with a cult. P. Brulé and S. Lebreton do not disagree when they write:

Nous définissons l'épiclèse à partir du cadre de son usage dans la nomination des puissances divines. Dans ce polythéisme [scil. grec] comme dans d'autres (et un moindre degré dans certains monothéismes), les dieux sont nommés de deux façons : soit par leur nom seul (c'est le cas, dans le monde grec, dans l'épopée, dans la vulgate mythologique, dans la cité où ils sont poliades et dans les jurons), soit par un système binominal d'appellations simples qui fait coexister le nom du dieu, généralement en première position, avec un déterminant souvent adjectivé qui le suit – l'épiclèse – précisant une qualité particulière dudit dieu. Sanctuaires, sacrifices, dons . . ., les actes du culte en Grèce antique s'adressent à des dieux ainsi précisément définis.25

However, as the seminal article by Bonnet et al. rightly notes

Belayche/Prost 2005, 211.

Brulé/Lebreton 2007, 220.

la prise en compte croissante des épithètes divines comme clé d'interrogation du fonctionnement du polythéisme hellénique ne semble avoir entraîné une fixation (relative) de la terminologie que par décantation – c'est-à-dire sans réelle justification théorique. Les catégories de 'théonyme', 'épithète', 'épiclèse' se sont imposées sans véritable discussion.26

Now, while the distinction between these terms is certainly convenient, it is not sufficient in order to account for the complexity of the systems for naming the divine in the ancient worlds. It is also worth noting the use, in the studia Anatolica, of the term "hypostasis" (from Greek hupostasis "substance, substantial existence"),27 borrowed from Near Eastern studies and, in particular, from biblical studies, where it is used to designate, in the words of K. Helms, "semi–independent divine entities that, on the one hand, are a part of a larger deity and, on the other, at times act independently [. . .]. Often these semi-independent entities develop through a gradual process of personification and differentiation from the deity." <sup>28</sup> According to V. Haas, aspects or partial functions and instantaneous manifestations thus become attributes such as "Storm-God of the Palace", "Storm-God of the Growth", of thunder, lightning etc.; the aspects of a deity then take on an existence of their own and become hypostases: "Hypostasiert werden nicht nur Äußerungen der großen atmosphärischen Götter wie Blitz und Donner, sondern auch deren Ausstrahlung: Den hethitischen Wettergott und den Sonnengott begleiten 'Respekt' und 'Ehrfurcht'." <sup>29</sup> The term "hypostasis" then designates a particular type of divine epithet (or epiclesis) with the ability to stand in for the theonym + divine epithet formula, which implies that not all divine epithets have this ability. This should be verified in detail in order to judge the relevance of the distinction between hypostasis and divine epithet. The terminological question is further complicated by the use of the term "hypostasis" in linguistics, where it has been given different definitions since the end of the 19th century, ranging from derivation of inflected forms to autonymy and implicit derivation.30 However, when I. Yakubovich studies theophoric names in which the divine epithet has been substituted for the theonym, he identifies this substitution process as belonging to "hypostasis", from one of its linguistic meanings, namely "when the underlying dependent noun assumes all the grammatical functions of the reconstructed head-noun and acquires the lexical meaning of the reconstructed noun phrase". <sup>31</sup> All of this should therefore be kept in mind when addressing the issue of divine epithets in the Anatolian worlds and delving into the literature on this subject.

Bonnet et al. 2018, 575.

See, among others, Beckman 2004; Miller 2008; Yakubovich 2013.

In Adams et al. 2016, 679.

Haas 1994, 313. See, for example, the use of this term in Laroche 1947 (e.g. 47, 54 or 61), where it is used to refer to more or less independent manifestations of more important deities, such as Kummiya, king of the gods fought by Kumarbi and considered as one of the most important hypostases of Teshub, the Hurrian Storm-God.

On a summary of this issue, see Rousseau 2016, 33–44.

Yakubovich 2013, 98–99 and n. 44.

A. Mouton has recently proposed a provisional typology of Hittite divine epithets, distinguishing seven different categories:<sup>32</sup>


As one can see, different criteria are used here to distinguish between the types of divine epithets, sometimes in relation to the origin of the epithet, sometimes to the function or role exercised by the deity and sometimes to a geographical association.

The results of two studies by I. Yakubovich (2013) and I.-X. Adiego (2022) invite further research into the anthroponymy of Luwic languages in order to reveal other theophoric names formed by using divine epithets. In order to do this and taking into account the risk of over-interpretation that the analysis of proper names implies, complementary methods can be adopted. By first identifying theonym + divine epithet formulae in the various epigraphic sources from the second and first millennia, such as "Storm-god of the Turmoil" attested in Lycian B or "Storm-god of Splendour" in the cuneiform sources, it is possible to understand anthroponymic compounds reflecting the same theonym + divine epithet formula, either in its exact form (e.g. Gk. Trokoarbasis), or in a related form, such as when an abstract is found instead of an adjectival form (e.g. /Piha-tarhunt-/ "Storm-god (of) Splendour"). But it is also possible to resort to combinatorial analysis and parallels. Thus, on the basis of the well-known compounds in wašha‑ and zit(i)‑ usually associated with a divine name or epithet, the two compounds <sup>f</sup> Harwa-wašha‑ and <sup>m</sup>Harwa-zit(i)‑ invite us to consider the element /harwa‑/ "road" not as a simple appellative, but as a divine epithet referring to one (or several) "god(s) of the Road". 33

Mouton 2020, 226–227.

Yakubovich 2013, 100.

# 4 Preliminary Typology of Divine Epithets Found in Luwic Personal Names

In the context of the theophoric names of the Luwic languages, it is possible, at least for the time being, to identify five main types of divine epithets, based on the typology outlined by A. Mouton. Of course, there are also a lot of divine epithets here, the meaning of which is still unclear. Nevertheless, for those whose meaning is assured, there are geographical epithets, epithets corresponding to the deity's place of action, functional epithets, laudatory epithets and divine titles. These types are described and exemplified below.

#### 4.1 Geographical Epithets in the Form of a Toponym or an Ethnic, Corresponding to a Cult Place

For example, the city of Aleppo was a major place of worship for the Storm-God, so the name Aleppo is found in several names in reference to the Storm-God of Aleppo: among others, Cun. <sup>m</sup>Halpa‑ (NH 252) "(Storm-God of) Aleppo", Cun. <sup>m</sup>Halpa-muwa- / Hier. /Halpa-muwa-/ (NH 254) "(Having) the Might of (the Storm-God of) Aleppo", <sup>m</sup>Halpa-zit(i)‑ (NH 259) "Man of (the Storm-God of) Aleppo", <sup>f</sup> Halpa-wiya‑ (Trémouille Répertoire, s.n.) "(The Storm-God of) Aleppo sent (her)". <sup>34</sup> Some simple names come from the anthroponymic conversion of ethnic names, which are more likely to correspond to divine epithets than to sobriquets. The hieroglyphic corpus thus provides the name <sup>I</sup> nix-nu-wa/i-ia‑ /Ninuwiya‑/,35 which is formally the ethnic of the city of Nineveh, associated with the cult of Ishtar36 and thus to be understood as "(Ishtar) of Nineveh". In the case of Luggawanni‑ (Trémouille Répertoire, s.n.) "(God[s]) of the Lukka lands", 37 the interpretation as a divine epithet is supported by the compound attested on a hieroglyphic seal /Lukka-muwa‑/ (BoHa 19, 204) "(Having) the might of (the God[s] of) the Lukka lands". In the Lycian corpus, the name Pttaraza/i‑ (TAM I, 113.1), identical to the ethnic of the city of Patara,38 could refer to a deity honoured there, such as the goddess Maliya/Athena or Natri/Apollo.39

Laroche 1966, 273; Yakubovich 2013, 102.

KARKAMIŠ A11b, §2; Hawkins 2000, 103–104.

Van Gessel 1998, 941.

This personal name is also probably behind the Homeric name Lukaōn (see already Granata 2013, 22).

Melchert 2004, 102; Réveilhac 2018, 473.

The Xanthos Stele contains the sequence Pttara Malijehi (TAM I, 44a.43), while the Patara coins feature heads of Athena and Hermes or Apollo (Raimond/Vismara 2007).

#### 4.2 Epithets Corresponding to the Place Where the Divine Power is Exerted (Sky, Earth, Steppe etc.)

Thus, in the compound /TaPa-zid(i)-/ (BoHa 22, 101), attested on a hieroglyphic seal, the first member could correspond to CLuw. tappaš‑ "sky, heaven" (HLuw. /tiPas-/), a place that is associated with different deities in the Anatolian corpora: Sun-God, Storm-God, Protective God or gods that are still undetermined. The anthroponym is then to be translated as "Man of (the X-God[s] of) Heaven". Among the clear examples of theophoric names formed using such an epithet is the group of names formed on the base /im(ma)ra(/i)-/ "open country" (and its derivatives) associated sometimes with the Storm-God, sometimes with the Protective God:40


#### 4.3 Functional Epithets Referring to the Specific Field of Action of the Deity Invoked

This category is particularly broad, given the wide variety of functions performed by deities in the Luwic worlds. Among the different domains represented, the following three can be highlighted:

– The military field, as exemplified by names reminding us the formula HLuw. (DEUS)TONITRUS EXERCITUS /Tarhunz kwalanassis/ "Storm-God of the Army", 41 such as Hier. /Ku(wa)lana-muwa-/ (e.g. BoHa 19, 192–193) "(Having) the Might of (the Storm-God of) the Army", /Ku(wa)lana-runtiya-/ (BoHa 19, 194) "(Storm-God of) the Army (and) Protective-God", /Ku(wa)lana-zid(i)-/ (e.g. BoHa 19, 195–198)

Yakubovich 2013, 99. On most of the following names, see already Adiego 2007, 335; Melchert 2013, 35.

SÜDBURG §3; Hawkins 1995, 23–24.

"Man of (the Storm-God of) the Army", Cun. Kuwalanalla‑ "Of (the Storm-God of) the Army" (KBo 5, 7 obv. 6). To this same category belongs the Lycian (B) epithet erbbese/i‑ "of Turmoil", which can be found in names like Gk. Trokoarbasis (Cil.), Kolarbasis (Cil.), Ouanaouarbasis (Cil.), Arbas(s)is (Cil., Lyc.), Arbēs(s)is (Car.): as explained above, this epithet is associated with the Storm-God in the Lycian B part of the Xanthos Stele;


SULTANHAN §8, Hawkins 2000, 466. On this epithet, see Weeden 2018.

See Réveilhac forthcoming a, where this name is tentatively interpreted as a Satzname meaning "(The X-God[dess] of) Abundance will favour (him)".

On these lexemes, see Bauer 2022 and Bauer/Yakubovich 2022.

Van Gessel 1998, 10.

This epithet has been compared, for the meaning, to some epithets of Athena (episkopos "overseer", epiēranos "assisting", epikouros "protector"), to whom Maliya is equated (Serangeli 2015), and, for the etymology, to the epithet eriounios of Hermes; see García Ramón 2015, 126–136.

In order to do so, one must assume a reduction of the sequence /-uwa-/ > /-u-/ and, eventually, a syncope, maybe due to an accent shift. For both phenomena in Lycian, see Hajnal 1995, 14 and 182–183, respectively.

On the identification of HLuwian (DEUS)i-ya‑ /Iya-/ as the representation of the originally Mesopotamian god Ea and its use in the Luwic onomastics, see lastly Giusfredi 2019.

Melchert 1993, 63; Melchert 2004, 85.

and etymologically related to Lyc. ✶ xttbile/i‑ "destructive" (cf. Lyc. xttba‑ "harm"), recognised in the names Lyc. Hrixttbile/i‑ (TAM I, 22.1) "Super-Destructive", Gk. Ermektibilis / Ermaktibilos / Ermaktubelis (Lyc.) "Destructive Moon-God (Arma)", Ktibilas (Lyc.) "The Destroyer" (here with probable individualising suffix).50

#### 4.4 Laudatory Epithet

Among these epithets, some are already well known, such as the Luwian adjective /muwatall(a/i)-/ "mighty", <sup>51</sup> associated especially with the Storm-God in Hittite texts behind the sumerogram NIR.GÁL and in Hieroglyphic Luwian in (DEUS)TONITRUS FORTIS /Tarhunt‑muwatall(a/i)-/.52 This very epithet is the basis of several names: the Hittite royal name <sup>m</sup>Muwatalli‑ (NH 837); HLuw. /Muwatall(i)-/ (MARAŞ 1, §1d; Hawkins 2000, 262); Lyc. Mutle(/i)‑ (TAM I, 150) and Mutlẽi‑ (M 210; with individualising suffix); Gk. Motolōn (Lyc.), Motalōs (Kibyr.).53

The Luwian adjective /ura-/ "great" is also one of the laudatory epithets which we find associated with the Storm-God in the Hieroglyphic Luwian formula CAELUM MAGNUS (DEUS)TONITRUS, corresponding to the dative sequence /tipasassan ura Tarhunti/ "to the great Storm-God of Heaven". <sup>54</sup> And this formula, "Great Storm-God", is precisely mirrored in the compound name <sup>m</sup>Urad U (NH 1441).<sup>55</sup> On this basis, it is possible to interpret a number of personal names with /Ura-/ referring to a deity, the Storm-God or another one, as suggested by the compounds Cun. mGAL.d IŠTAR-a‑ (Trémouille, Répertoire s.n.) "Great Shaushka" and Hier. /Ura-Sarma-/ (KARKAMIŠ A4a, §7; Hawkins 2000, 157) "Great Sarruma". <sup>56</sup> It is therefore only natural to find this element associated with bases that are usually used in the formation of theophoric names: e.g. Hier. /Ura-zid(i)-/ (BoHa 19, 503; NH 1439) "Man of the Great (X-God[dess])"; Gk. Oura-moutas (Cil.) "Great (X-God[dess]) of Conquest", Or-peigesis (Lyc.) "Great

E.g. KARKAMIŠ A4b, §4; Hawkins 2000, 80–82.

See Adiego 2022, 84–85.

On some of these names, see Houwink ten Cate 1961, 167; Melchert 2013, 34.

Van Gessel 1998, 661 (<sup>d</sup> IŠKUR NIR.GÁL) and 787–788 (d U NIR.GÁL); Mouton 2020, 226.

ANCOZ 9, §2; Hawkins 2000, 359.

The interpretation of such names as predicative compounds with the meaning "X-God(dess) (is) great" (Yakubovich 2017, 40) cannot be taken for granted. On the other hand, they must neither be considered as "descriptive compounds" – then judged as "hubristic names" by I. Yakubovich: they would rather have a similar value as pure and simple theonyms converted into anthroponyms (see already Laroche 1966, 281–282), that is, names intended to place their bearer under the protection of a deity.

See the large number of deities associated with the epithet "great" in Hittite texts: van Gessel 2001, 55–56 (Hitt. šalli-), 107 (sumerogram GAL) and 163 (akkadogram RABÛ(M)).

(Storm-God of) Lightning", Our-oas (Pamph.) "Great (X-God[dess]), favour (him)!", 57 and as a simple name in Oras (Lyc.),58 Ourēs (Cil.), Ouros (Pamph.).<sup>59</sup>

The epithet can sometimes be found in second position in anthroponymic compounds, such as Cun. <sup>m</sup>Maššana-ura- / mDINGIRME<sup>Š</sup> -GAL, Hier. /Massana-ura-/ (NH 774), translated as "Great (one) of the gods" <sup>60</sup> or "Great (among) gods". <sup>61</sup> However, this does not seem necessary in view of this other compound attested on a hieroglyphic seal dating from the Hittite Empire: /Tiwada-ura-/ (BoHa 19, 462, 463). The latter is reminiscent of the formula where a solar deity is accompanied by the epithet "great", positioned either before or after the divine name in Hittite (e.g. šalli <sup>d</sup> UTU-i, GAL-iš <sup>d</sup> UTU-uš, <sup>d</sup> UTU-i GAL-i etc.),62 and thus meaning "Great Sun-God". Similarly, /Massana-ura-/ "Great Gods" reflects the formula DINGIRME<sup>Š</sup> GAL used, for instance, in the Telipinu Myth in a merism that associates it with the "lesser gods". 63

#### 4.5 Divine Title

Most of these titles are related to the political or military power, such as "king", "queen", "lord", "master" etc. and can be associated with several deities: it is only natural to find some of these title used in personal names. Thus, the Pisidian name Γδεβετι‑ <sup>64</sup> is the cognate of Luw. /hantawatt(i)-/ and Lyc. xñtawate/i‑ "king", <sup>65</sup> the former being connected to the Steppe-God in the Hieroglyphic Luwian inscription MALATYA 5 and the latter used as an epithet of two gods, the Caunian King (Lyc. xñtawati Xbideñni / Gk. Basilei Kauniōi) and the King Arkesimas (Lyc. Arccazuma xñtawati/Gk. Arkesima), in the Létôon Trilingual (N 320.7–8). I have also recently proposed that a / tubar(i)-/ element should be recognised in several Luwic names.<sup>66</sup> This basis, combined with several theonyms, such as Ida (Car. Dtýbr-), the Storm-God Tarhunt (Gk. Tarkun-dberras [Cil.]), the Moon-God Arma (Gk. Erma-toboris / Erman-doberis /

In Réveilhac forthcoming a, I suggest analysing indigenous names in -oas found in the Greek sources from Lycia and neighbouring regions as Satznamen which have the Lycian bare verbal stem uwe‑ "to look favourably" in the second member, here in imperative use. For the meaning of this verb, see Sasseville 2020, 380.

Although in this case it cannot be excluded that it is an adaptation of the Lycian name Hura-.

On some of the names attested in the Greek sources, see already Houwink ten Cate 1961, 164–165.

Melchert 2013, 41.

Yakubovich 2017, 41.

Van Gessel 1998, 879–880.

CTH 324, KUB 33.4.5 36 ii 11: cf. van Gessel 1998, 997–998. Note also the reverse order of the elements in the formula in šalliš DINGIRLIM-iš / šalli‑DINGIRME<sup>Š</sup> / DINGIRLUM RABÛ: see van Gessel 1998, 974, 989–990.

Brixhe 2016, 83–84.

Melchert 2013, 35.

Réveilhac forthcoming b.

Erman-duberis [Lyc.]) or the Protective God Runtiya (Gk. Rōn-doberras/Rōn-dberras [Cil.]), but also with divine epithets (e.g. Gk. Perta-toubaris [Pis.], cf. CLuw. paratt (a)‑"impurity"), might have originally been a divine title meaning "battle companion, (divine) ally", which even became a local heronym in Lycia, according to the testimony transmitted by Stephanus of Byzantium.67

To this group might be added epithets from the family lexicon, in particular those with a significant presence of the names of the "father" and "mother", associated with several deities. Such usage finds well-known parallels in neighbouring Indo-European, Hurrian and Semitic traditions. As already assumed by Houwink ten Cate, the use of kinship terms in Luwic onomastics is related to their function as divine epithets.68 Thus, the name of the "father" is associated with the Sun-God Tiwad in the Luwian formula /tatis Tiwaz/,69 the origin of which is none other than that of the proto-Indo-European Father Sky, also known in Vedic (dyàuṣ pítar "(o) Father Sky"), Greek (Zeu pater "(o) Father Zeus") and Latin (Iū-piter "Father Jove, Jupiter"). It should be noted that this epithet, while originally associated with Tiwad to emphasise the primary hierarchical role that this god played in the pantheon, might have been extended to other deities, such as the Wine-God Tipariya.70 Therefore, anthroponyms formed with the father's name (Luw. /tad(i) /, Lyc. ted(i)-, Car. ted-) are to be understood as theophoric: e.g. Cun. <sup>m</sup>Tati-ŠEŠ (NH 1309), Gk. Tede-nēnis (Lyc.), Tedi-nēnis (Cil.), which must have the sense of "Father (Sun-God?) (divine) Brother". <sup>71</sup> The names of Greek transmission Tedi-arsasis, Tedi-komadis, Tedi-ktas, Tedi-monis, Tedi-sbēs (Lyc.), Tedi-aris (Cil.) are probably also to be interpreted in the same sense, while the Lycian noun Teθ(θ)i-weibe/i‑ is a probable compound displaying the genitival adjective teθθe/i‑ (< ✶ tedese/i-) "of the Father (Sun-God?)" as its first member.

# 5 Conclusions

Following on from recent work, this preliminary study has attempted to highlight the important presence of divine epithets in the formation of Luwic anthroponyms (especially in Luwian, Lycian, Carian and Pisidian). The main difficulty in identifying these

Ὕλαμοι· πόλις Λυκίας, ὡς Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ πολυίστωρ ἐν ̅β Περὶ Λυκίας. Εἶτα Διονύσιός φησι Τούβεριν καὶ Τέρμεριν δύο ἀδελφὰς γῆμαι καὶ γεννῆσαι δέκα ἄρρενας ἑκάτερον. Ὑλάμους δὲ τοὺς καρπούς φασι. Τὸ ἐθνικὸν Ὑλαμίτης. "Hylamoi: a city of Lycia, as Alexander Polyhistor states in book 2 of About Lycia. Then Dionysios relates that Touberis and Termeris had married two sisters and that each of them had fathered ten (children) males. (The Lycians) call the fruits hylamoi. The ethnic is Hylamite." Houwink ten Cate 1961, 139.

A similar formula is also known in Lydian (an Anatolian language not belonging to the Luwic subgroup), with lẽms taada[s] "Father Zeus" (LW 14.10).

ARSUZ 1 and 2, §24b; Dinçol et al. 2015.

Pace Neumann 1996, 11; Melchert 2013, 38; Réveilhac 2018, 477, the meaning "Brother of the (same) father" is forced.

divine epithets lies in the fragmentary nature of the corpora of the languages in question, which obviously limits their understanding. It should be noted, however, that this field of study is in constant progress thanks to the regular appearance of new documents and the progress made by historians, historians of religions, philologists and linguists.

The identification of divine epithets in anthroponyms must first be based on the divine onomastic formulae attested in the various Anatolian corpora. Some of these formulae are reflected, directly or indirectly, in anthroponymic compounds. Combinatorial analysis and parallels with other names finally allow us to restore certain divine onomastic formulae.

We were able to identify five main types of divine epithets used in the formation of Luwic personal names: geographical epithets, epithets corresponding to the place of action of the deity, functional epithets, laudatory epithets and divine titles. But it must be borne in mind that there are a number of onomastic elements whose meaning is unknown and which probably constitute other divine epithets. The task is therefore still considerable, since each element must be the subject of meticulous investigation involving the data available in the various corpora.

More broadly, it appears that the place of theophoric names in the Luwic languages in the wider sense, that is anthroponyms formed with a divine name and/or a divine epithet, is more significant than has been believed until recently. A more precise morphological analysis of Luwic theophoric names can then be carried out in order to highlight the different formations at work and compare them with the existing types in other Indo-European and geographically neighbouring languages, such as Hurrian and the Semitic languages.

# Bibliography

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Adiego, Ignasi-Xavier (2007), The Carian Language, Leiden / Boston.


Bauer, Anna / Yakubovich, Ilya (2022), "Hieroglyphic Luwian Late /suraTi(ya)-/, CORNU+RA/I-ti (eDiAna-ID 824)", in: eDiAna. http://www.ediana.gwi.uni-muenchen.de/dictionary.php?lemma=824 (seen 2.20.2023).

Beckman, Gary (2004), "Pantheon. II. Bei den Hethitern", in: Reallexikon der Assyriologie 10, 308–316.

	- R. Bachvarova / Ian C. Rutherford (eds.), Anatolian Interfaces: Hittites, Greeks and their Neighbours.

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Neumann, Günter (1996), "Hethitisch-luwische Verwandtschaftswörter", in: Die Sprache 38, 1–13.

Raimond, Éric / Vismara, Novella (2007), "Les sanctuaires lyciens de Tlôs et Patara", in: Res Antiquae 4, 259–282.


Richter, Thomas (2016), Vorarbeiten zu einem hurritischen Namenbuch. Ersten Teil: Personennamen altbabylonischer Überlieferung vom Mittleren Euphrat und aus dem nördlichen Mesopotamien, Wiesbaden.

Rousseau, Nathalie (2016), Du syntagme au lexique : sur la composition en grec ancien, avec une préface de Charle de Lamberterie, Paris.

Sasseville, David (2020), Anatolian Verbal Stem Formation. Luwian, Lycian and Lydian, Leiden / Boston.

Schwemer, Daniel (2006), "Das hethitische Reichspantheon: Überlegungen zu Struktur und Genese", in: Reinhard Gregor (ed.), Götterbilder – Gottesbilder – Weltbilder: Polytheismus und Monotheismus in der Welt der Antike, Vol. 1: Ägypten, Mesopotamien, Kleinasien, Syrien, Palästina, Tübingen, 241–265.

Schwemer, Daniel (2008), "Fremde Götter in Hatti: Die hethitische Religion im Spannungsfeld von Synkretismus und Abgrenzung", in: Gernot Wilhelm (ed.), Ḫattuša-Boğazköy: Das Hethiterreich im Spannungsfeld des Alten Orients. 6. Internationales Colloquium der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft, 22.- 24. März 2006, Würzburg, Wiesbaden, 137–158.

Serangeli, Matilde (2015), "Heth. Maliya, lyk. Malija und griech. Athena", in: Christian Zinko / Michaela Zinko (eds.), 1. Grazer Symposium zur indogermanischen Altertumskunde "Der antike Mensch im Spannungsfeld zwischen Ritual und Magie", Graz, 14.-15. November 2013, Graz, 375–388.


Weeden, Mark (2018), "The Good God, the Wine God and the Storm God of the Vineyard", in: Die Welt des Orients 48, 330–356.


# Giuseppe Minunno Who's in a Name? Human-divine Relations in Personal Names from the Tophet of Carthage

Abstract: This chapter investigates the corpus of theophoric personal names attested in the inscriptions of the CIS from the tophet of Carthage. This immense corpus provides a large number of theophoric personal names, for both male and female individuals, illustrating which were the most common deities chosen to feature in personal names, which aspects of the gods were highlighted and what kind of relationships were envisaged by bestowing those names. A brief analysis of the small corpus of inscriptions from the tophet of Motya is added for comparison.

Phoenician personal names (PNs)<sup>1</sup> often consist of a sentence or a construct chain that highlights an aspect of a deity or the relationship between the divine entity and the name-bearer. The thousands of inscriptions from the Carthaginian tophet collected by the CIS provide a large number of theophoric personal names (either of dedicants or in their genealogies), for both male and female individuals, based on divine names (DNs). A study of this corpus of PNs allows us to shed light on some aspects of popular religion in the city of Carthage: who were the most common deities chosen to feature in PNs? Which aspects of the deities were deemed relevant? What kind of relationships with deities were envisaged when naming children? Some preliminary methodological issues must be remarked. Since the name was presumably given to a child by their family, and not chosen by themselves (although growing up an individual may choose to adopt a nickname), PNs actually express the religious attitude within the family, especially given the high frequency of papponymy in Carthaginian society. Indeed, the custom of naming children after their ascendants may cause PNs to reflect a slightly delayed image of contemporary devotion. Furthermore, the identification of the very elements that make up a name is sometimes dubious or almost impossible. Even when the root of an element is clear, different syntactical interpretations of a pattern are possible, which hinders an evaluation of the precise religious significance of a PN.2

Halff 1963–1964; Benz 1972; Vattioni 1977; Vattioni 1979; Vattioni 1980; Jongeling 1984; Israel 1992; Ferjaoui 1993, 301–333; Israel 1995; Israel 2013. A study of devotion through theophoric PNs in Ferjaoui 1993, 408–473. For the Egyptian deities in Phoenician PNs, cf. Ribichini 1975; Lemaire 1986.

To save space, as a rule, I have omitted the reference to the passages where PNs appear. They can be easily retrieved through Benz's work. Likewise, for brevity's sake, I have used an 'x' to signify "occurrence(s)", e.g., "7x" means that a name occurs (in our corpus) 7 times. By-forms and misspellings, not detailed here due to lack of space, are calculated along with the main forms. Broken names have not been included.

# 1 Kinship Relationships

Several PNs comprise elements expressing a kinship relationship between the god(s) and the individual. Fatherhood is expressed by the element 'b ("father"). It occurs in several PNs: 'bbʽl (5x), "bʽl is (my) father", 'bqm (2x), "the/my father rose", 'bmlk (1x), "the/my father is king/mlk", 'bš'n "the/my father is secure" (1x). The meaning "father" may also be assigned to the element 'd, <sup>3</sup> appearing in the PNs 'dy (7x) and 'd' (4x), which would then mean "my/his father", and 'dbʽl (2x). However, a different explanation considers the element 'd as a short form of 'dn or 'dr. <sup>4</sup> If the first hypothesis is accepted, the occurrences of 'dbʽl are to be added those of 'bbʽl, confirming the association of bʽl with fatherhood. Motherhood, instead, appears to be almost a prerogative of ʽštrt, since there are only two PNs including the element 'm: 'm ʽštrt, "'štrt is (my) mother" (36x)<sup>5</sup> and, quite surprisingly, 'm(')šmn, "'šmn is (my) mother" (6x). However, 'm(')šmn might also be interpreted as a by-form of 'mt'šmn, "servant (f.) of 'šmn". <sup>6</sup> As for sonship, the element bn "son" occurs in a few names: bnḥdš (6x) and bnḥdšt (1x), "son of the new moon" (or, of the god ḥdš), presumably connected with the birthday of the child. A misspelling for bnḥdš might be bnḥrš (attested once), but it may rather mean "son of craftman". The PN bn' (20x) and bny (1x) might be related to the same element bn (therefore meaning "his/her son"), but they may rather derive from the root bny, "to build"; <sup>7</sup> or, bn' may be a short form of bʽlḥn'. <sup>8</sup> The element bt, "daughter", is present in PNs built according to the pattern bt-DN ("daughter of DN"), such as btbʽl, "daughter of bʽl" (11x), possibly bt'šmn (1x),<sup>9</sup> btnʽmt (1x) and btšlm<sup>10</sup> (1x). The hapax ʽbdbt may be interpreted as "servant of the temple", or as a by-form, or misspelling, of ʽbdrbt or ʽbdbst.

Other PNs, made up of the element 'ḥ ("brother") and 'ḥt ("sister"), present the child as a sibling of a deity, who is mostly indicated as mlk or mlkt, "the king"/mlk and "the queen/mlkt". The most attested is ḥmlkt, "brother of the queen/mlkt" (585x), followed (223x) by ḥmlk ("brother of the king/mlk"). Less numerous are the occurrences of ḥtmlkt (44x) and ḥtmlk (15x), respectively "sister of the queen/mlkt" and "sister of the king/mlk". The female deity is much more frequent (found in more than 70% of cases) for both masculine and feminine names. The PN ḥtlt (='ḥt 'lt), "sister of the goddess/'lt", is also well attested (22x). Htmlqrt, "sister of mlqrt", is only attested once

Benz 1972, 259–260.

Halff 1963–1964, 85.

This is the total number of occurrences considering ʽmʽštrt (12x) a by-form of 'm'štrt (24x). Other interpretations are however possible, see below.

Cf. Benz 1972, 269; Halff 1963–1964, 92.

Cf. Benz 1972, 288.

Halff 1963–1964, 98.

Benz (1972, 102) doubts it be a misspelling for bd'šmn.

The interpretation of btnʽmt and btšlm as theophoric names depends on whether nʽmt and šlm are meant to be DNs or common names here (Ferjaoui 1993, 413).

which might suggest that mlqrt is actually "the king" featuring in ḥmlk/ḥtmlk. Some tie of kinship (perhaps "paternal uncle") may also be expressed by the word ʽm. <sup>11</sup> Yet, its use in PNs<sup>12</sup> is debated. Possible instances of a pattern ʽm-DN are attested in ʽmʽštrt (13x) and ʽmskr (1x),13 but an explanation that sees them as by-forms is also possible. So, ʽmʽštrt is probably rather to be understood as a by-form of 'mʽštrt,<sup>14</sup> while ʽmskr may be a by-form of ʽbdmskr. <sup>15</sup> Supporting the pattern ʽm-DN, we find the PNs ʽm' (11x), ʽm (1), ʽmy (1x), which are likely hypocoristic and shortened forms derived from that pattern. Krahmalkov even ascribes the names ʽmtmlqrt (8x), ʽmtbʽl (5x), ʽmtʽštrt (3x), and ʽmtmlk (1x)<sup>16</sup> to this pattern, which are generally understood to be by-forms or misspelling of corresponding names following the 'mt-DN pattern. The interpretation proposed by Krahmalkov, however, implies the problematic assumption that a false feminine form ʽmt was used in feminine PNs, depending not on the gender of the deity featuring in the PN, but on that of the name-bearer.<sup>17</sup> The PN ʽmyl (1x)18 and the PN ʽmyyhn (1x)19 could also belong to the ʽm-DN term.

Also, the very common PNs 'rš (454 x), 'ršm (81x), and 'rš' (19x), as well as the feminine forms 'ršt (82x) and 'ršty (6x), could be explained as relating to the conjugal bond,<sup>20</sup> 'rš and 'ršt meaning "husband" and "wife", respectively. So, the PN 'rštbʽl (16x) should be interpreted as "wife of bʽl", <sup>21</sup> while 'rš, 'ršm, 'rš', 'ršt, and 'ršty may be hypocoristic and short forms of theophoric names.<sup>22</sup> However, since the DN 'rš is strongly suggested by the well attested (32x) PN ʽbd'rš, and by the mention at Carthage by a servant of the temple of 'rš[. . .],23 the element 'rš in these PNs may rather indicate a deity, labelled "the Husband" or named 'rš. <sup>24</sup> Otherwise, different interpreta-

 Krahmalkov (2000, 379) also ascribes to this pattern the only occurrence of ʽmšmlqrt, considering it a misspelling for ʽmmlqrt.

Krahmalkov 2000, 377.380–381.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 128.

Benz 1972, 379; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 200; Krahmalkov 2000, 377.

Cf. Benz 1972, 379.

Halff 1963–1964, 136.

Halff 1963–1964, 136; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 201. According to an alternative, but unconvincing, proposal, ʽmʽštrt may be interpreted as "pueblo de ʽAštart" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 201). Instead, ʽmskr may be considered a by-form of ʽmzkr, meaning "ʽM s'est souvenu", ʽm being a DN (Halff 1963–1964, 136). Yet, ʽmzkr is unattested, according to Benz 1972.

Krahmalkov 2000, 377.380–381.

With the element y'l or, perhaps, corresponding to ʽmy'l (Halff 1963–1964, 136). The interpretation "pueblo de . . ." proposed by Fuentes Estañol is unlikely (1980, 200).

The elements involved may be ʽm and ḥnn, so ʽmyyhn would mean "my ʽm favoured/will favour" (cf. Halff 1963–1964, 136). Fuentes Estañol's interpretation as "mi/su pueblo es clemente" is quite unconvincing (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 200).

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 76.

Halff 1963–1964, 93: "Épouse de Baʽal".

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 76.

CIS I, 251.

tions of this group of names are possible,<sup>25</sup> pointing to the desirability of the namecarrier or to the latter's delight in the deity.<sup>26</sup>

### 2 Divine Attitudes towards Humans

There are other PNs that probably expressed the sort of feelings which the deities were thought, or hoped, to experience towards their human devotees. Subsequently, the PNs ḥšq (3x) and ḥšqm (1x) may mean "desire(s)", <sup>27</sup> but they could also be short forms, meaning "(DN) has loved" <sup>28</sup> or "(DN) is my delight". <sup>29</sup> If Krahmalkov30 is correct in considering ḥšqmt (1x) to be a short form of ḥšqmlqrt, then mlqrt is to be included among the loving or delighting deities. A feeling of closeness might be expressed by the PN 'ḥr (1x) if it is taken as a short form of a pattern 'ḥr-DN meaning "with (me) is X". <sup>31</sup> "Consolation" is expressed by the element nḥm, featuring in mnḥm (3x), possibly abbreviated as mny, 1x) and nḥm (3x). However, in these PNs, it is not clear whether the comforter32 is an unnamed deity or the child itself, the birth of whom comforted the family. Divine attention towards one's devotee might also be expressed by the element skr, if its correspondence to the root zkr ("to remember") is admitted.33 The element skr may appear in skrbʽl (3x), ʽmskr (1x), and skr (1x). skrbʽl could mean "bʽl has remembered me" <sup>34</sup> or "bʽl, remember (me)!". <sup>35</sup> As for ʽmskr, the presence of skr is doubtful, since the name is perhaps better explained as corresponding to ʽbdmskr<sup>36</sup> or to ʽmmskr. <sup>37</sup> Another possibility, however, is to accept a value of zkr (at the hiphil) as meaning "to be strong". 38

Benz 1972, 276; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 73; "désiré" ('rš) and "objet désiré par Baʽal" ('ršt), Lipiński 1989; "requested (of god)", Krahmalkov 2000, 75. Conversely, the PN bʽl'ršt (1x) would mean "bʽl is (my) desire" (Krahmalkov 2000, 112). Garbini interpreted 'ršt differently, as "proprietà (di Baʽal)", while 'rš would mean "demanded" ("chiesto") to the deity, therefore corresponding to Latin Rogatus (Garbini 1980, 217–219).

Benz 1972, 219.

Fuentes Estañol 1980, 124.

Halff 1963–1964, 113.

Krahmalkov 2000, 199.

Krahmalkov 2000, 200.

Benz 1972, 264. Benz himself "reluctantly" proposes a different interpretation ("with labour", possibly denoting a severe childbirth).

For mnḥm "comforter" cf. Halff 1963–1964, 122; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 162; Krahmalkov 2000, 294. nḥm may be a short form (Halff 1963–1964, 125), or mean "comfort" (Krahmalkov 2000, 327).

Benz 1972, 305–306.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 126.

Krahmalkov 2000, 344. Less likely, "recuerdo de Baʽal" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 186).

Halff 1963–1964, 136; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 201.

Krahmalkov 2000, 379.

Dahood 1964, 406.

The interpretation of the element ʽṣ in ʽṣbʽl (3x, including the occurrence of 'ṣbʽl as a misspelling or a by-form) is difficult, but the name could mean "bʽl is (my) counsellor". 39

The divine favour, expressed by the root ḥnn ("to favour, show favour") is one of the most widespread attitudes in PNs, amounting to 1344 occurrences. The favour expressed or invoked is mostly that of bʽl: bʽlḥn' (396x), ḥnbʽl (303x), bʽlyḥn (8x), yḥnbʽl (5x), with a total of 712 occurrences. Among the other deities, mlqrt is the most attested (mlqrtḥn', 5x; ḥnmlqrt, 2x; mlqrtḥn and mlqrtyhn, 1x), followed by 'šmn ('šmnḥn', 3x, 'šmnyḥn, 1x) and ṣd (ḥnṣd, 3x; ṣdyḥn, 1x). Twice, the deity is mlk (ḥnmlk), once each 'l (ḥnw'l), šm (šmḥn'), ʽm (ʽmyyhn). The large predominance of bʽl may hint that his name is primarily implied in the short form ḥn' (610x).40

# 3 Dependence

The element bd, most likely explained as byd, <sup>41</sup> occurs in several names following the pattern bd-DN ("in/from the hand of X"). This dependence or devotion is mainly addressed to ʽštrt (799x) and mlqrt (693x). The occurrences of 'šmn (43x) and the hypocoristic (bd', 55x) are far fewer. Less common PNs are bdṣd (8x), bdmlk (7x); bdbʽl (5x); bdsy (1x).

The subordinate relationship between a devotee and their god/goddess is expressed by means of PNs following the pattern ʽbd-DN and 'mt-DN, "servant of DN". In the vast majority of the PNs concerning the first type, the god is mlqrt (762x, 51%), followed at a distance by 'šmn (436x, 29%). The other occurrences (305), making up 20%, concern ʽštrt (37x), 'rš (33x), mlk (30x), mlkt (29x), ṣd (20x), bʽl (19x); ṣpn (8x), 'sr (7x), tnt (7x), 's (5x), ʽnt (5x), šd' (5x), skn (4x), kšr (3x), mskr (3x), ss/ssm (3x); šgr (3x),'bst (2x); l'y (2x); 'bk (1x), 'dm (1x), 'mn (1x), h' (1x), ks' (1x), krr (1x), mʽzgkr (1x), ʽzz (1x), rʽ (1x), ršp (1x), šmr' (1x), šmš (1x), šr (1x). Furthermore, several other names express this relationship without explicitly mentioning the DN, just as ʽbd'dny: ʽbd' (33x), ʽbd'lm (22x), ʽbd'lnm (5x), ʽbdy (1x), ʽb<d?>'ly (1x), ʽbdrbt (1x). The PN ʽbdbt (1x) may mean "servant of the temple". The prevalence of mlqrt is even greater among the feminine names following the pattern 'mt-DN. Here, the 44 occurrences of 'mtmlqrt represent 64% of the cases, four times the amount of those for 'mt'štrt (11x), followed by 'mtb'l (10x), 'mtmlk (2x) and 'mtmlkt (1x). Apparently, among women, 'šmn's lordship did not enjoy the same favour as it did among men, while ʽštrt, who in the ʽbd-DN

Krahmalkov 2000, 385. Or: "Baʽal a cligné (des yeux)", Halff 1963–1964, 137.

Friendship would be expressed, according to an admittedly "problematic" interpretation by Krahmalkov (2000, 55; cf. 56), by the PN 'lpšd' (1x), explained as "šd' is my friend". The PN is unexplained for Benz (1972, 268) and Fuentes Estañol (1980, 67). Halff (1963–1964, 87) suggests a misspelling for 'lpšr', to be interpreted as "El a expliqué" (but contra, see Benz 1972, 268).

Cf. Benz 1972, 283–286.

pattern is the third most attested divinity, in the 'mt-DN pattern comes in second position, but appears almost as many times as b'l. There is therefore no prevalence of female deities in this pattern of feminine PNs.

A similar dependence on a deity might be expressed by the element mhr, featuring in the fairly frequent PN mhrbʽl (117x), since "servant" is one of the possible interpretations of mhr.<sup>42</sup> This interpretation, however, is debated.43 Other suggested meanings are "warrior", <sup>44</sup> or a form of the verb "to hasten". If the latter proposal is accepted, mhrb'l would mean "b'l has hastened", <sup>45</sup> or "make haste, oh b'l", <sup>46</sup> presumably in connection with the idea of a helpful god inclined to provide assistance to humans.

A different relationship among deities and devotees is expressed by gr, "client", or "protected person". <sup>47</sup> The most attested deity from the gr-DN pattern is skn (163x), followed by ʽštrt (154x), mlqrt (36x), mskr (21x), bʽl (2x), ṣpn (2x), 'šmn (1x), mks (1x). In a few cases, the PN is simply gr (1x) or "his/her client": gr' (1x), gry (1x). The prevalence of skn in this pattern is significant for the morphology of this god, especially since his presence in other PNs is extremely rare: against the 162 instances of grskn (169, if gkn and gmkn are considered as by-forms of that name) we find only a handful of ʽbdskn (3x) and the dubious case of zkn (1x). Therefore, skn was notably considered a patron of grm ("clients") and, sometimes, a lord of ʽbdm ("servants"). Another kind of relationship, probably expressing the faithfulness of the devotee, is expressed by the names klb' "his/her dog" (3x) and klb'lm "dog of the god(s)" (2x).48 A tight, although elusive, bond with the god is also expressed by the hapax 'šmnḥlq, "'šmn is (my) lot" 49 or "the lot of 'šmn". <sup>50</sup> Also, the pattern 'š-DN, interpreted as "man of DN", may express a special tie of dependence from the deity. The PNs 'š'dr (5x), 'šʽštrt (2x), 'šbʽl (1x), 'štnt (1x), and the hypocoristic form 'š' (1x) may belong this pattern. However, other explanations have been proposed for these PNs, casting doubt on the very existence of the pattern itself. So, 'š'dr may stand for 'šmn'dr, "'šmn is strong", <sup>51</sup> or it may rather

Cf. Benz 1972, 341.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 120; Benz 1972, 340–341.

Fuentes Estañol (1980, 153) suggests "soldado de Ba'al".

The CIS translates "Ba'al festinavit"; Halff 1963–1964, 120.

Krahmalkov 2000, 273.

Cf. Heltzer 1987, 312. According to Krahmalkov (2000, 142), "worshipper (fearer)".

In KAI 37 (from Kition), klbm and grm are mentioned together as receiving allotments, probably from a local temple. However, it is not clear whether in this context klbm and grm are the same elements as in the PNs.

Krahmalkov 2000, 186; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 74.

Ferjaoui 1993, 410 ("la part d'Ešmoun").

Halff 1963–1964, 89; Benz 1972, 277.

mean "great man"; <sup>52</sup> for 'šbʽl, a correspondence to yšbʽl ("bʽl is alive") has been suggested,53 while 'šʽštrt may rather be a misspelling for 'mʽštrt.<sup>54</sup>

The dependence of the devotee on the power of a deity might also be expressed by the pattern ʽz-ND, "ND is (my) strength", or "ND is strong". <sup>55</sup> This pattern appears mostly in association with mlk (ʽzmlk, 154x), but other DNs also occur: bʽl (ʽzbʽl, 16x, ʽzybʽl, 1x), mlqrt (ʽzmlqrt, 8x); tnt (ʽztnt, 1x). Hypocoristic or short forms are ʽz' and ʽzm (both attested once). The strength of the god may also be expressed by the PN ʽbdʽzz, (attested once), which could be interpreted as "servant of the powerful", <sup>56</sup> where ʽzz may represent a DN.<sup>57</sup> Strength is also expressed by the elements 'br and mrr, both only attested once, respectively in 'brb'l and mrrbʽl, "bʽl is strong". <sup>58</sup> The element 'dr, "mighty" is most commonly applied to the same bʽl: 'drbʽl occurs 73 times. Only once is it associated with mlk ('drmlk) and mlqrt (ʽdrmlqrt='drmlqrt). The deity is unexpressed in the PN 'dr', "(DN) is mighty" (5x). As for 'š'dr (5x), it may well mean "man of the mighty", but other interpretations have been proposed.<sup>59</sup> Hypocoristic and short forms of a PN involving the element ʽmṣ ("be strong, prevail") <sup>60</sup> are possibly ʽmṣ (7x) and ʽmṣ' (1x). Also the PN ˹g˺šr (1x), if the reading is correct, may be a short form of a theophoric PN, meaning "(ND) is strong", unless strength was rather meant, or hoped, to be an attribute of the child bearing the name. The divine power is also expressed by the element mšl in the pattern DN-mšl, "DN rules". This only occurs in mlqrtmšl, attested just once.<sup>61</sup>

### 4 Help and Protection

PN's often express an expectation of divine protection. The root šmr, "to guard, protect", is well documented, mostly in relation to bʽl: šmrbʽl (45x), bʽlšmr (1x); perhaps also in the short form šmr (3x), although other gods are also sporadically attested: 'šmn ('šmnšmr, 3x), ṣd (ṣdšmr, 3x), pmy (pmyšmr, 1x). The hapax ʽbdšmr' may allude to

Krahmalkov 2000, 80.

Krahmalkov 2000, 81.

Halff 1963–1964, 93.

Fuentes Estañol 1980, 196; ʽzybʽl, however, is translated as "my/su fuerza es Baʽal". Krahmalkov's dictionary incongruously interprets the pattern ʽz-DN as "DN is my bulwark", but the entries for each PN of the pattern are translated as "DN is strong" (Krahmalkov 2000, 361–362).

Halff 1963–1964, 132.

Fuentes Estañol 1980, 193; Krahmalkov 2000, 357.

For mrrbʽl, cf. Halff 1963–1964, 123; Benz 1972, 354; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 168; differently Ferjaoui (1993, 431): "Baʽal a fortifié". A different interpretation has been proposed by Krahmalkov (2000, 313): "bʽl bless (him/me/you)".

It may be a short form of 'šmn'dr (Halff 1963–1964, 89) or "great man" (Krahmalkov 2000, 80).

Benz 1972, 380.

The element ʽms in PNs may also point to strength, according to Heltzer 1986.

an otherwise unknown deity šmr', or rather contain a contracted DN.62 A root with a similar meaning, gnn, is only attested in the hapax 'srgn, "'sr protects", or "may 'sr protect". Also, the element ḥm', the meaning of which is uncertain,63 may express protection.<sup>64</sup> It appears in the PNs ḥmy (4x), ḥm' (2x), ḥmbʽl (1x), and bʽlḥm' (1x; but it could also be a misspelling for bʽlḥn'). A similar protection meaning might be expressed by the hapax 'šmḥṣd, standing for 'šmnḥṣr <sup>65</sup> and meaning "'šmn protect(s) (me)!". <sup>66</sup> The element ḥlṣ ("deliver, save") appears in the patterns DN-ḥlṣ and ḥlṣ-DN. The deities are especially 'šmn ('šmnḥlṣ, 103x), bʽl (ḥlṣbʽl, 68x, and bʽlḥlṣ, 25x), mlqrt (mlqrtḥlṣ, 37x), mlk (mlkḥlṣ, 22x). The hapax qrtʽlṣ is interpreted as standing for qrtḥlṣ. <sup>67</sup> the element pls might have a similar meaning ("to save"),<sup>68</sup> expressing some sort of beneficial activity of the deity. It is attested in mlqrtpls (7x), bʽlpls (2x), plsḥr (1x) and in the short form pls (5x). The meaning of the element, however, is debated. Another possibility is "to level, smooth (the way), facilitate". <sup>69</sup> It may suggest that the deity assists in the delivery in some way.<sup>70</sup> Also, for the element nws in bʽlnws (only attested once), an interpretation as "bʽl saved" should be taken into account.71 However, the correct reading of the PN could actually be bʽlnks, possibly meaning "bʽl enriched (the family)". <sup>72</sup> Another element that could be interpreted in a similar way is šlk, which could mean either "to save, protect" or "to nourish, provide". This element occurs in the pattern DN-šlk, which should then be interpreted as "DN has protected/ saved", <sup>73</sup> "may DN save (me)", <sup>74</sup> or "DN provides/provided". <sup>75</sup> In the overwhelming majority of cases this pattern is employed in relation to bʽl: bʽlšlk occurs 221 times. In a few instances, 'šmn ('šmnšlk, 4x), ʽštr (ʽštršlk, 2x), and šmš (šmššlk, 1x) are also involved.

A wish for divine help is expressed by the widespread patterns ʽzr-DN and DN-ʽzr. The helpful deity is named in an overwhelming majority of cases bʽl: ʽzrbʽl occurs 405 times, bʽlʽzr 84. Also attested are mlk (ʽzrmlk, 8x), mlqrt (mlqrtʽzr, 7x; ʽzrmlqrt, 1x), 'šmn ('šmnʽzr, 3x), mlkt (ʽzrmlkt, 1x). The short forms are ʽzr (6x) and yʽzr (2x). Support


Halff 1963–1964, 132–133; Benz 1972, 422.

Cf. Krahmalkov 2000, 186.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 109; Benz 1972, 311–312.

Halff 1963–1964, 90.

Cf. Krahmalkov 2000, 82.

Benz 1972, 179.

from the deity may also be expressed by the element ʽms ("to carry, support") <sup>76</sup> in the patterns DN-ʽms and, in a few instances, ʽms-DN: the most supportive deity was considered 'šmn ('šmnʽms, 59x). Also bʽl (bʽlʽms, 17x), mlqrt (mlqrtʽms 13x, plus possibly ʽmšmlqrt, 1x), mlk (ʽmsmlk, 1x). The short forms are yʽmṣ (4x) and ʽms (1x). Another root, pdy, "to ransom, rescue", in addition to one occurrence of bʽlpd', is attested in short forms (pdy, 31x; pdt, 2x; pd', 1x; perhaps a hypocoristic form is pdyʽ, 1x).77

The root ḥwy, "to live/make live" appears in several short and hypocoristic forms: yḥwln (22x), yḥw' (11x), tḥw' (2x); ḥw' (1x). A desire for prosperity is expressed by means of the element ṣlḥ. The only DN in relation to whom it is employed is bʽlṣlḥ (4x), "bʽl made prosper", <sup>78</sup> "bʽl benefits", <sup>79</sup> or, rather, "bʽl, make prosper!". <sup>80</sup> A short form is ṣlḥ (8x); mṣlḥ (7x) may mean either "prosperous" <sup>81</sup> or "who makes prosperous". Prosperity is most probably also expressed by the element šlm: it occurs in the short forms šlm (11x) and šlmy (1x), and with expressed reference to bʽl: bʽlšlm (4x). The exact meaning of the pattern DN-šlm is uncertain but it presumably has to do with peace, prosperity and completeness.82 Therefore, bʽlšlm has been interpreted as "bʽl is peace" <sup>83</sup> or "Baʽal grant peace/prosperity!", <sup>84</sup> and šlmbʽl in a similar manner.<sup>85</sup> Halff holds a different view, proposing a connection between these patterns and the birth of a new child to replace another one, therefore translating bʽlšlm as "Baʽal a donné en échange (d'un enfant mort)". 86

The root šmʽ, "to hear", is only attested in a handful of cases: bʽlšmʽ (5x), mlqrtšmʽ and šmʽmlk (both once). Instead, variants of the formula kšmʽ ql' ("because he/she heard his/her voice") are very frequent in the dedications from the tophet.87 The paucity of PNs built around the element šmʽ might correspond to a possibly very limited presence of bʽl ḥmn and tnt in the PNs, but it may otherwise be due to the fact that the hearing attitude was deemed especially relevant when a vote was made, which involved an exceptional condition. So the bʽlšmʽ, mlqrtšmʽ and šmʽmlk may have been named as a mark of gratitude towards the god who heard some important request by

However, a second root ʽms may have existed, so that the element ʽms in PNs would rather mean "strength" or "is strong" (Heltzer 1986).

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 139; Benz 1972, 389.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 102: "Baʽal a fait réussir/a rendu heureux", possibly with reference to a difficult childbirth (Halff 1963–1964, 77).

Cf. Fuentes Estañol 1980, 88: "Baʽal beneficia".

Cf. Krahmalkov 2000, 118.

Krahmalkov 2000, 305.

Benz 1972, 414.

"Baʽal es paz" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 88).

Krahmalkov 2000, 119.

Namely "paz es Baʽal" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 236); "Baʽal bring peace/make prosper!", or "Baʽal is (the source of) my peace/prosperity" (Krahmalkov 2000, 465).

Halff 1963–1964, 77.102.142.

See Bonnet/Minunno/Porzia 2021.

their parents, possibly even the birth of a progeny. Since hearing and healing were presumably often associated (i.e. "has heard" may often actually mean "has healed"), it could be congruent that the element rp' ("to heal") is also hardly represented, occurring just once, in the PN rp'. The latter is most probably a short form of the pattern DN-rp' "(DN) has healed/heal!". <sup>88</sup> In addition to his hearing attitude, bʽl could also be an answering god, if the interpretation of the hapax ʽnbʽl to mean "bʽl has answered" 89 is accepted. However, given the uniqueness of the supposed occurrence of a ʽn-DN pattern, ʽnbʽl is perhaps more likely explained as a by-form of ḥnbʽl. <sup>90</sup> Perhaps the element ʽd can be interpreted as "witness" <sup>91</sup> in ʽdmlk (2x) and in ʽdbʽl (1x), although they could rather be misspellings for, respectively, ʽbdmlk and ʽbdbʽl. <sup>92</sup> The element ml'k occurs (19x) in the PN bʽlml'k, "bʽl is messenger (probably of good news)". 93

Benediction is expressed by the element brk. The blessing gods were bʽl (brkbʽl, 6x; bʽlbrk, 2x) and mlqrt (mlqrtbrk, 5x; brkmlqrt and brktmlqrt, both 1x). Only once do we find brkmlk. <sup>94</sup> A short form is brk (22x), a hypocoristic form brk' (1x). The blessing might in some cases consist in the birth of the child to whom the name was bestowed in gratitude.<sup>95</sup>

# 5 Qualities

While, as we have seen, strength appears to have appealed to parents, probably because a strong deity was particularly suitable for protecting their children, sanctity was apparently not an appropriate feature of deities as far as name-giving was concerned. The element qdš is unattested in PNs, not only in our corpus but, as far as I know, in the entire Phoenician anthroponymy. Nor was knowledge very relevant, since the element ydʽ does not occur in our corpus either.96 In the same way, divine justice does not appear to be a very relevant issue for name-giving in our corpus. The element ṣdq only occurs once, in ṣpnyṣdq, which may mean "ṣpn is/will be right" but, more probably, "ṣpn justifies". <sup>97</sup> Slightly more common is the indication of a bright

Halff 1963–1964, 142; Benz 1972, 41–42. Less probable is the correspondence to the Latin PN Rufus (Février 1953, 465).

Halff 1963–1964, 138.

Fuentes Estañol 1980, 202; cf. Benz 1972, 381.

Benz 1972, 373. Or, "DN adorned" the home with a child (cf. Ferjaoui 1993, 448).

Halff 1963–1964, 133; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 195.

Halff 1963–1964, 101; Benz 1972, 221; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 87). Krahmalkov (2000, 116) considers the name to be simply a by-form of bʽlmlk.

Cf. also brkt (1x) and 'brkt (2x).

Halff 1963–1964, 77.

Knowing that, in Phoenician, PNs would signify "être en totale intimité", according to Halff (1963–1964, 114–115).

Halff 1963–1964, 140; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 217.

character of the deity, expressed by the elements 'r and nr "light". They appear in the PNs 'rbʽl (2x), 'rkrḥ and 'rmlk (both attested once) and bʽlnr (1x). Rather than a PN meaning "bʽl has enlightened", <sup>98</sup> 'rrbʽl (1x) is actually a misspelling of 'drbʽl.

The element nʽm, mostly in connection with gd, expresses pleasantness, rather than divine beauty. There are 12 occurrences of gdnʽm, 9 of gdnʽmt, 3 of nʽmgd'. Since gd was a personification of "luck", an interpretation of such PNs as "may my/his luck be good" <sup>99</sup> is perhaps preferable to "gd is pleasant". A similar interpretation has been proposed for other PNs including the element nʽm, as nʽmpʽm (2x)100 and psnʽm (1x).101 Hence, the existence of a DN nʽmt is debatable. Indeed, btnʽmt (1x), rather than as "daughter of nʽmt" <sup>102</sup> can be interpreted as "good daughter". <sup>103</sup> It may be supposed in the PN mtnʽmt (1x),<sup>104</sup> "gift of DN", but the DN here could actually be ʽmt. <sup>105</sup> The PN nʽmt (1x) may be a short form of gdnʽmt, or an attribute of the child itself.

Krahmalkov assumes that hrb (2x) is short for hrbʽl (attested in Byblos), but considers the latter's meaning uncertain. The element hr, also occurring as a PN (1x), may mean "mountain". <sup>106</sup> The meaning "rock, mountain" may also be portrayed by the element ṣr, occurring 6 times as a PN in our corpus and which may constitute the apposition of an unmentioned deity.<sup>107</sup> An idea of sublimity appears in the PN mlkrm (1x), "mlk/the king is exalted/high". <sup>108</sup> The same element rm occurs in the short form yrm (1x), but it is uncertain whether the unnamed deity here is meant to be exalted or rather to exalt.<sup>109</sup> The same applies to the element kbd "("honour"), which appears in the pattern kbd-DN: kbdmlqrt (2x) and kbdʽštrt (1x). The exact meaning of the pattern

Krahmalkov 2000, 322: "Gift of Nuʽam".

Halff 1963–1964, 88 ("Baʽal a illuminé").

Krahmalkov 2000, 137.332.

Interpreted as "May his/her step (= path in life) be good!" (Krahmalkov 2000, 332). Differently ("agradable es Paʽam") Fuentes Estañol 1980, 180; Ferjaoui 1993, 374 ("Pʽm est agréable").

Interpreted as "eine gute Tafel" (i.e., the board where the destiny of a child was written) by Lidzbarski (1908, 17 note 1). Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 139 (not entirely convinced). For Benz (1972, 392) the element ps in the name is unexplained.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 104 ("fille de la Gracieuse").

Krahmalkov 2000, 132. The interpretation "hija del placer" proposed by Fuentes Estañol is unlikely (1980, 93).

Halff 1963–1964, 125: "don de ʽMT" (other possibility: "ʽMT est gracieuse"). The interpretation "don de la sierva" proposed by Fuentes Estañol is unlikely (1980, 172).

Benz 1972, 303; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 106. Halff suggests rather a by-form of the shortened PN ḥr, "Horus" (Halff 1963–1964, 108).

Benz 1972, 408. Krahmalkov (2000, 421) considers it a by-form of ṣry, "Tyrian".

Halff 1963–1964, 121; Benz 1972, 408–409; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 159; Krahmalkov 2000, 289.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 116.

is debatable, since both "DN has honoured" <sup>110</sup> and "honour DN!" <sup>111</sup> are possible interpretations.112 The PN kbdt (22x) may be a short form.113

The element špṭ, "to rule, judge", mostly occurs in the short form špṭ (321x), otherwise it is ascribed to bʽl: bʽlyšpṭ, (9x), bʽlšpṭ (4x), špṭbʽl (4x). The element hrb, "the chief" (2x),114 rather than a PN of a short form meaning "(DN is) the rb", may denote the office of an unnamed individual within a genealogy.115

### 6 Children as a Gift of the Gods

The element ytn ("give") occurs in several PNs, consisting of the patterns ytn-DN and DN-ytn. They probably express the idea that the child was a gift of the gods.116 The pattern, however, may have a wider meaning of giving life, be it childbirth or health.117 In most occurrences, the DN is bʽl (bʽlytn, 213x, and ytnbʽl, 52x), followed by mlk (mlkytn, 54x; ytnmlk, 17x), and almost ex aequo ṣd (ytnṣd, 63x; ṣdytn 3x) and 'šmn ('šmnytn, 62x). A few times, other DNs are attested in the pattern DN-ytn, namely ʽštrt (6x), pmy (pmytn, 5x); mlqrt (2x), 'l (1x), gd (1x), kšr (1x), 'stn (1x). Short forms are ytn (15x) and, perhaps118 the feminine ytnt (2x).119 The element mtn "gift" derives from the same root, ytn. Beside the forms mtn, "gift (of DN)" (97x) and mtn' "his/her gift" (3x), bʽl is by far the most concerned deity: mtnbʽl is attested 96 times, mtnybʽl 4 times, mtnmlqrt 4 times and mtnkyšr, mtnʽmt and mtnṣd one time each. Besides, mtn'lm "gift of the god(s)" occurs 9 times; mtn'l (1x) may mean "gift of the god", but it could also mean "gift of 'l".

The meaning of the extremely popular PN mgn (443x) and mgnm (9x) is still under debate. It may derive either from the root gnn "to protect", or mgn ("to give, bestow"). According to Krahmalkov, both mgn and mgnm are short forms of mgnbʽl. 120 If so, mgnbʽl could be interpreted as meaning "bʽl has given" and might refer to the granting of a child. Indeed, mgnbʽl is not attested in our corpus (and is extremely rare

Halff 1963–1964, 117–118 ("a glorifié").

Krahmalkov 2000, 223.

Fuentes Estañol (1980, 137) proposes a different translation for the two PNs, respectively "glorioso es Melqart" and "gloria es ʽAštart".

Halff 1963–1964, 118.

Cf. Fuentes Estañol 1980, 106: "el jefe".

Benz 1972, 303. As already discussed, Krahmalkov (2000, 162) considers hrb to be a short form of hrbʽl.

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 77.

Ferjaoui 1993, 357–358.

Halff 1963–1964, 117; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 135.

Rather "gift" for Benz 1972, 329.

Krahmalkov 2000, 270 (to be interpreted as "bʽl, grant!").

altogether),<sup>121</sup> although it might hide behind the hapax mgrbʽl, supposedly a misspelling.122 According to a different interpretation, mgn would mean "shield", whence the interpretation of mgnbʽl as "shield of bʽl". <sup>123</sup> The popularity of the PN mgn in Carthage may be related with bʽl mgnm (CIS I, 3778 = KAI 78: 3–4), the nature of which is still unclear.<sup>124</sup>

The element ysp "add" occurs in the PNs msp (13x)125 and bʽlysp (4x). This last PN may be explained as "bʽl added to the family" <sup>126</sup> or "bʽl add (to him/me/you)". <sup>127</sup> Consequently, depending on the preferred interpretation, it may, or may not, concern the birth of a new member of the family. The same applies for the PN mšlḥ (1x), which may be interpreted as "one sent" by a deity,<sup>128</sup> or perhaps "set free" (by a deity?). On the other hand, some PNs seem to denote an offering: šṣp, probably indicating some kind of sacrifice, probably occurs in several PNs (šṣp 23x; šṣpt, 7x; šṣpm, 4x; šṣp', 1x). Also qrbn (1x, if not to be read qrbm) may really mean "offering, gift". <sup>129</sup> Even if the people with these names were somehow "offered" to the deity, they were obviously able to grow up, since they had descendants or performed the rituals of the tophet.

The element pʽl "make" occurs in the PNs qrpʽl (2x) and bʽlpʽl (1x). The DN-pʽl pattern is explained as "DN has done" <sup>130</sup> or "DN, act!". <sup>131</sup> Either way, it remains unclear which action is intended, but in the first case it may be supposed that the child was considered a creation of the deity. The formation ʽš-DN may hint at a divine creative involvement in the pattern that may be interpreted as "DN made". <sup>132</sup> The pattern is possibly attested in the PNs ʽš'šmn (1x) and ʽšmlk (1x). Due to the extreme paucity of occurrences of the pattern, however, the possibility of misspellings or by-forms of 'š-DN or ʽz-DN forms cannot be ruled out.133 Also, the PN qny (only attested once) may be interpreted as a short form "(DN is) creator". <sup>134</sup> Suggestive, in this sense, although far



Benz (1972, 137) only mentions one occurrence, in El-Hofra.

Krahmalkov 2000, 270. A different explanation of mgrbʽl is doubtfully proposed by Halff (1963–1964, 120): "Baʽal a accordé", with reference to Akkadian magāru(m).

Krahmalkov 2000, 317; cf. Halff 1963–1964, 123; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 169 ("el enviado").

The name mrzḥy (1x) is usually considered to refer to the mrzḥ association, but Krahmalkov (2000, 311) suggests connecting this name to a month name mrzḥ (therefore mrzḥy would mean: "born in the month of mrzḥ"). The existence of a month mrzḥ, however, is open to question. No month mrzḥ is addressed in Stieglitz 1998.

from compelling, is the interpretation of ḥrṭmn (1x) as "mn has sculpted" (mn being either Amon or Min).<sup>135</sup>

### 7 The Deities

Most dedications from the tophet of Carthage employ the formula lrbt ltnt pn bʽl wl'dn lbʽl ḥmn. <sup>136</sup> Nevertheless, among the thousands of PNs recorded in the inscriptions from the tophet of Carthage, tnt only occurs 9 times (7 times in the name ʽbdtnt, one time each in 'štnt and ʽztnt). Even the adjective rbt ("lady") is only attested once, in the PN ʽbdrbt, perhaps a synonym of ʽbdtnt. The element pn, "face", might occur 5 times in pnp' <sup>137</sup> and once perhaps in 'pnh ("his/her face"). Apparently, the role as an intermediary between the people and bʽl ḥmn, massively attested in the ritual context of the tophet, is not reflected in the practice of assigning a divine patron to the offspring. Instead, both 'dn and bʽl are widely attested. Indeed, the latter is the most frequent element in our corpus, occurring 2826 times. The element 'dn ("lord") is almost exclusively attested in the name 'dnb'l (488 occurrences); otherwise, it only occurs in 'dnmlkt, 'šmn'dn, ʽbd'dny (1x each) and twice in šm'dnm.<sup>138</sup> The apparent absence of bʽl ḥmn in PNs<sup>139</sup> is remarkable. It cannot be ruled out, however, that bʽl ḥmn was often indicated<sup>140</sup> by the simple bʽl. It has been suggested that, in PNs, bʽl ṣpn, as a rule, is indicated by the simple ṣpn;<sup>141</sup> if so, it is even more noteworthy that, while ṣpn is well attested in our corpus (37x), ḥmn never occurs, and is otherwise only sporadically attested in Phoenician onomastics.<sup>142</sup> Moreover, it is well known that the Phoenician religious world acknowledged several bʽlm. The identity of the specific bʽl indicated by a theophorous PN with the element bʽl can sometimes be conjectured on the basis of the associated element, but not without raising further questions. For instance: do the PN 'drbʽl and the DN bʽl'dr refer to the same deity? Furthermore, bʽl is a not a DN, or a short form of it, in all its occurrences. Sometimes, a PN is better explained by assigning the original significance to bʽl as a common name, "master, lord", interpreted as

Halff 1963–1964, 113. She prefers, however, the interpretation "magicien" (cf. Halff 1963–1964, 79; Krahmalkov 2000, 196).

On the characteristic features of the inscriptions from tophets, see Amadasi Guzzo/Zamora López 2012–2013.

Perhaps standing for pnpʽm, cf. Benz 1972, 392.

Hypotheses about the interpretations of šm'dnm vary widely: "The Lord is the Name" (Krahmalkov 2000, 468), "el nombre de los señores" Fuentes Estañol 1980, 237) "Le seigneur a entendu" (Halff 1963–1964, 143, who also allow for a by-form of 'šmn'dny).

Cf. Halff 1963–1964, 65; Ferjaoui 1993, 343.

It is implausible, however, that bʽl constantly stands for bʽl ḥmn (Halff 1963–1964, 72).

Krahmalkov 2000, 419.

Benz 1972, 312–312.

the apposition of a DN, like in the cases of ṣpnbʽl <sup>143</sup> and šḥrbʽl. In other PNs, bʽl as a common name may supposedly denote another deity, especially mlqrt and 'šmn.

Possible theophoric names including the element bʽl are: 'dnbʽl (488x); ʽzrbʽl (405x); bʽlḥn' (396x); ḥnbʽl (303x); bʽlytn (213x); bʽlšlk (213x); mhrbʽl (117x); mtnbʽl (96x); bʽlʽzr (84x); 'drb'l (73x); ḥlṣbʽl (68x); ytnbʽl (52x); šmrbʽl (45x); ṣpnbʽl (26x); bʽlḥlṣ (25x); bʽlml'k (19x); ʽzbʽl (18x); bʽlʽms (17x); ʽbdbʽl (17x); 'rštbʽl (16x); btbʽl (11x); 'mtbʽl (10x); bʽlyšpṭ (9x); bʽlyḥn (8x); bʽly (7x); brkbʽl (6x); 'bbʽl (5x); bdbʽl (5x); bʽlšmʽ (5x); yḥnbʽl (5x); bʽlysp (4x); bʽlṣlḥ (4x); bʽlšlm (4x); bʽlšpṭ (4x); mtnybʽl (4x); špṭbʽl (4x); bʽlšt (3x); skrbʽl (3x); ʽṣbʽl (3x); 'db'l (2x); 'rbʽl (2x); bʽlbrk (2x); bʽlpls (2x); grbʽl (2x); šḥrbʽl (2x); 'brbʽl (1x); 'šbʽl (1x); bʽl'ršt (1x); bʽlḥm' (1x); bʽlmgl' (1x); bʽlmlk (1x); bʽlnws (1x); bʽlnr (1x); bʽlpd' (1x); bʽlpʽl (1x); bʽlṣd (1x); bʽlqlḥ (1x); bʽlšmm (1x); bʽlšmr (1x); ḥmbʽl (1x); mgrbʽl (1x); mrrbʽl (1x); ʽdbʽl (1x); ʽzybʽl (1x).144 The PNs also indicate that the most important aspect of bʽl, and the one most wished for, was his favour: bʽlḥn', ḥnbʽl, bʽlyḥn and yḥnbʽl add up to 712 occurrences, namely more than 25% of the PNs including the element bʽl. They therefore outnumber the around twenty attestations of the root ḥnn gathered by all the other deities. If considered a DN, then bʽl is the favourable god par excellence. As for 'dn, 'dnbʽl is the most common PN among those including the element bʽl (488x, over 17%) and virtually his prerogative ('dn appears in other PNs only 5x). The element ʽzr is also mostly associated with bʽl, expressing the god's helpfulness (489x, 17% of the PN's composed with bʽl, 95% of those composed with ʽzr). We also find that ytn is mainly referred to bʽl (265x, over 50% of the occurrences of PN's composed with ytn): the god is said to have given, or is asked to give, more than all the other deities together; accordingly, mtnbʽl, "gift of bʽl", accounts for 96 out of a total of 217 occurrences of PNs composed with the element mtn. Most of the latter, especially mtn (97x) and mtn' (3x), may, at least partially, be equivalent to mtnbʽl. Almost exclusively associated with bʽl is the element šlk (213x out of a total of 221 occurrences), expressing protection, while mhr (117x) exclusively occurs combined with bʽl. As we have seen, this element may refer to divine helpfulness or express a dependence from a god. Less frequent, but again almost exclusively associated with bʽl, is the attribute 'dr, "mighty" (73x out of a total of 85 occurrences), which is explicitly bestowed to other gods only twice. The element ḥlṣ (93x) is widely used, also expressing the helpfulness of the god ("to deliver, save"), but ḥlṣbʽl (68x) and bʽlḥlṣ (25x) do not reach 'šmnḥlṣ (103x) together. Instead, the element šmr, also expressing protection, is mostly associ-

Unless it is to be understood as "may Baʽal watch over me" (Krahmalkov 2000, 420), "Baʽal has hidden, protected" (cf. Halff 1963–1964, 141; Ferjaoui 1993, 456), or even "Baʽal es el Norte" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 217), rather than as "ṣpn is a/the/my master" (Halff 1963–1964, 140; Ferjaoui 1993, 456).

bʽlqlḥ is generally considered to be a misspelling of bʽlṣlḥ, surely more convincing than the explanation of "Baʽal desbordó" (whatever that may mean), proposed by Fuentes Estañol (1980, 88). The meaning of bʽlšt is uncertain (Krahmalkov 2000, 120). The element št only appears in this PN, perhaps to be interpreted as "bʽl established" (Halff 1963–1964, 103 [or: "Baʽal a rendu"]; Fuentes Estañol 1980, 88; Ferjaoui 1993, 449: perhaps "a établi l'enfant". Cf. Benz 1972, 426).

ated with bʽl (45x out of a total of 57 occurrences). Also, exclusively in association with bʽl, or short and hypocoristic forms, are the elements ml'k (19x), 'ršt (18x), špṭ (17x). The same would apply to the element ṣpn as a verbal form, if it were interpreted this way in ṣpnbʽl (26x), rather than as a DN. The elements ʽbd (17x), ʽms (17x), ʽz (17x), 'mt (10x) are well attested, but not exclusively associated with bʽl. Equally, šmʽ is associated with bʽl in 5 out of its 7 occurrences. On the contrary, the element bd, which is very common with other deities, only occurs 5 times. To sum up, to bʽl, the PNs associate the traits of a favourable lord, mighty and well suited to helping and protecting a newborn, who was a child thought to have been bestowed by him or to whom it was hoped he would grant his favour.

As in the case of 'dn and bʽl, the element 'l and its feminine form 'lt may be DNs or common names (namely "god/goddess"). While 'lt occurs almost exclusively145 in the PN ḥtlt (22x), 'l appears in a few hapaxes: ytn'l, mtn'l, ḥnw'l. The plural form 'lm/ 'lnm is used as a common name: "(the) god/gods". It appears in the PNs ʽbd'lm (18x) and ʽbd'lnm (4x), "servant of (the) god(s)", mtn'lm, "gift of the god(s)" (9x) and klb'lm, "dog of the god(s)" (2x); the hapax ʽb'ly may be a misspelling<sup>146</sup> or a shortened form (perhaps for ʽbd'lm).<sup>147</sup> In one of the inscriptions in our corpus (CIS I, 4943), 'l appears as an attribute of bʽl ḥmn instead of the more common 'dn (l'l lbʽl ḥmn), perhaps since he is "the god" of the tophet. The patterns in which the element 'l occurs are all well attested with bʽl (ytnbʽl, mtnbʽl, ḥnbʽl), but this is not sufficient evidence to suggest that the 'l in question is usually (a) bʽl. Also, the elements mlk (333x) and mlkt (72x), featuring in many PNs, might represent DNs (mlk/mlkt), common names, "(the) king/queen", or verbal forms. By far the most common name including mlk is ʽzmlk (154x), "the king/mlk is (my/his) strength" or "mlk is strong", representing 46% of the PN's that use this element.<sup>148</sup> Well attested are also mlkytn (54x, 16%) and ʽbdmlk (30x, 9%). mlk also occurs in mlkḥlṣ (22x), ytnmlk (17x), ḥtmlk (15x); ʽzrmlk (8x), bdmlk (7x), rʽmlk (7x), mlky (3x), 'mtmlk (2x), ḥnmlk (2x), ʽdmlk (2x), 'bmlk (1x); 'drmlk (1x), 'rmlk (1x), bʽlmlk (1x), brkmlk (1x), mlk (1x), mlkrm (1x), ʽmsmlk (1x), ʽšmlk (1x), šmʽmlk (1x). mlkt occurs in ḥtmlkt (44x), ʽbdmlkt (25x), 'dnmlkt (1x), 'mtmlkt (1x), ʽzrmlkt (1x). In the PN's, therefore, mlk is associated with strength (ʽzmlk and 'drmlk), who gave or will give (mlkytn and ytnmlk amount to 21% of the total occurrences of the element). Dependency is also frequently assessed (ʽbdmlk, bdmlk, 'mtmlk, ʽšmlk, 40x: 12%). The god also saved (mlkḥlṣ, 6,6%) and helped (ʽzr, ʽms, 2,7%). Kinship was also remarked (ḥtmlk and 'bmlk, 4,8%). mlkt occurs in ḥtmlkt (44x), ʽbdmlkt (25x), 'dnmlkt (1x), 'mtmlkt (1x),

A possible exception is mtlt (1x), which may derive from mt 'lt, "l'homme de la déesse": Février 1946–1949, 651. Benz also takes into account a short form for mtn'lt, "gift of the goddess" (Benz 1972, 356).

Benz 1972, 148.

Halff 1963–1964, 127.

Krahmalkov 2000, 363.

ʽzrmlkt (1x). Kinship ('ḥt) was the main aspect (61%), followed by dependence (36%: ʽbd, 'mt).

After bʽl, the most frequent DN is mlqrt, occurring 1613 times. It appears in the following PNs: ʽbdmlqrt (738x), bdmlqrt (693x); 'mtmlqrt (43x), mlqrtḥlṣ (37x), grmlqrt (36x), mlqrtʽms (12x), ʽzmlqrt (8x), mlqrtʽzr (7x), mlqrtpls (6x), mlqrtbrk (5x), mlqrtḥn' (5x), mtnmlqrt (4x), ḥnmlqrt (2x), kbdmlqrt (2x), mlqrtytn (2x), 'drmlqrt (2x?),149 brkmlqrt (1x), brktmlqrt (1x), gdmlqrt (1x), ḥtmlqrt (1x), mlqrtgd (1x), mlqrtḥn (1x), mlqrtyhn (1x), mlqrtmšl (1x), mlqrtšmʽ (1x), ʽzrmlqrt (1x), ʽmšmlqrt (1x). Thus, the PNs overwhelmingly stress the dependence from the god; ʽbd, bd, 'mt and gr make up a total of 1510 occurences, namely over 93% of the PNs mentioning mlqrt. References to protection (ḥlṣ, 37x, 2%) and help (ʽms, 13x, and ʽzr, 8x: 1,3%) are much less frequent; pls is not very common, but it is associated with mlqrt in 6 out of a total of 14 cases. The power of the god is mentioned only a few times (ʽz, ʽdr, mšl, 10x). Benediction (brk), favour (ḥnn) and giving (ytn, mtn) only occur occasionally. The element gd occurs twice, which makes mlqrt the only DN associated with it apart from (possibly) nʽm/nʽmt.

ʽštrt occurs 1048 times, in the names bdʽštrt (799x), grʽštrt (154x), ʽbdsʽštrt (37x), 'mʽštrt (36x),<sup>150</sup> 'mtʽštrt (11x), ʽštrtytn (6x), 'šʽštrt (2x), y'gryštrt (1x),<sup>151</sup> kbdʽštrt (1x), šʽštrt (1x). Occurrence of the element bd is overwhelming, found in over 76% of the cases; like gr, ʽbd, 'š and 'mt (which account for around another 20% of the total), the element bd expresses a dependence from the goddess. Much less common are the elements 'm, "mother" (a feature shared only, and not without uncertainty, with 'šmn), and ytn, which together appear in less than 4% of the cases.

'šmn occurs 724 times, in the names: ʽbd'šmn (430x), 'šmnḥlṣ (103x), 'šmnytn (62x), 'šmnʽms (59x), bd'šmn (43x), 'm(')šmn (6x), 'šmnšlk (4x), 'šmnḥn' (3x), 'šmnʽzr (3x), 'šmnšmr (3x), 'šmnyḥn (2x), gr'šmn (1x), 'šmḥṣd (='šmnḥṣd, 1x), 'šmn (1x), 'šmn'dn (1x), 'šmnḥlq (1x), ʽš'šmn (1x). Regarding 'šmn, the PNs seem to express chiefly (over 65% of the total) dependence (mostly with the element ʽbd, but also bd, and once gr), followed by (15%) protection (ḥlṣ, occasionally šmr and šlk); to a lesser extent, help (9%: ʽms, rarely ʽzr) and "giving" (9%) are concerned. In a few cases, 'šmn is called 'm, possibly "mother" (if not a by-form of 'mt'šmn),152 in even fewer cases, we find ḥnn.

After bʽl, mlqrt, ʽštrt, and 'šmn (by far the most popular deities in PNs), other DNs occur several times. The following are very well attested:

skn<sup>153</sup> (167x): grskn (163x), ʽbdskn (3x), zkn, (1x). The element gr is almost exclusive (97% of the cases);

The PN is only recognisable in the forms ʽdrmlqrt and tdrmlqrt.

Also comprising the 12x occurrences of ʽmʽštrt and its by-forms.

Perhaps y'gryštrt = ygdʽštrt, "ʽštrt made me/him fortunate" (Krahmalkov 2000, 205), or "fearer of ʽštrt" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 127, cf. Benz 1972, 321).

Cf. Benz 1972, 269; Halff 1963–1964, 92.

Although not very well known to us (cf. Minunno/Xella 2021), this deity had a temple in Carthage (CIS I, 4841). On the element skn in PNs, see Lipiński 1973; Bonnet 1991.

#### 506 Giuseppe Minunno

ṣd (103x): ytnṣd (63x), ʽbdṣd (20x), bdṣd (8x), ḥnṣd (3x), ṣdytn (3x), ṣdšmr (3x), bʽlṣd (1x), mtnṣd (1x), ṣdyḥn (1x); ṣpn (37x): ṣpnbʽl (26x), ʽbdṣpn (8x), grṣpn (2x), ṣpnyṣdq (1x); gd (35x): gdnʽm (12x), gdnʽmt (9x), gd' (6x), nʽmgd' (3x), gdy (2x), gdyt[n] (1x); gdmlqrt (1x); mlqrtgd (1x); mskr<sup>154</sup> (24x): grmskr (21x), ʽbdmskr (3x).

Less frequently attested possible DNs are (see Tab. 1):


Tab. 1: Less frequently attested divine names in the human onomastics.

 Halff 1963–1964, 117; Krahmalkov 2000, 225. Perhaps the DN also appears in kyšr (10x) and kyšrm (2), although kyšr may rather mean "elephant" (cf. Benz 1972, 330 and Fuentes Estañol 1980, 132).

For ḥr as a shortened PN, cf. Halff 1963–1964, 108.

Servants of a temple dedicated to ḥṭr mskr are mentioned in some Carthaginian inscriptions (CIS I, 253; CIS I, 254; CIS I, 4838).

It is probable that these names were bestowed to children born at new-moon (cf. Harris 1936, 87; Halff 1963–1964, 78; Israel 1992, 331), but this is not irreconcilable with the interpretation of ḥdš(t) as a DN (Krahmalkov 2000, 178, "Son of Ḥudis/Ḥudist"), since those born at new-moon might have been regarded as very close to the deity who was associated with it (perhaps the same applies to the PN ʽbdkrr, krr being also the name of a month). Benz (1972, 308) and Fuentes Estañol (1980, 84) do not exclude an interpretation of bnḥdšt as a shortened form of bn qrtḥdšt.

For Benz (1972, 273), it is unexplained. Fuentes Español (1980, 70) suggest a misspelling. Proposed interpretations are "Isis gave" (cf. Halff 1963–1964, 88), or "Isis, give/place (me)!" (Krahmalkov 2000, 67). It is possible that the PN šlm (11x) should also be referred to this god.

Variously interpreted: "ŠLM établira fermement" (Halff 1963–1964, 115); "habrá (o: será) paz" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 129); "May Salōm/Peace prevail!" (Krahmalkov 2000, 208).

Probably "daughter of šlm" (cf. Krahmalkov 2000, 133). Or: "hija de la paz" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 93).


#### Tab. 1 (continued)

# 8 Theophorous Names from the Tophet of Motya

A comparison with the small corpus of inscriptions from the tophet of Motya may also be of interest.167 It must be borne in mind that this corpus contains a very small number of inscriptions and that it is possible, and very likely, that PNs mentioned in more than one inscription point to the same individual.<sup>168</sup> The inscriptions from Motya come from the 6th-5th centuries, while those from Carthage date mostly to the 4th-2nd centuries. Given these premises, the agreement with our results is significant: the

Perhaps rather composed with the element 'l (Halff 1963–1964, 136; cf. Benz 1972, 266).

Most probably, "šḥr is (my) lord", cf. Fuentes Estañol 1980, 233; Krahmalkov 2000, 459. Halff (1963–1964, 142) also takes into account the interpretations "dawn of bʽl" and "bʽl is the dawn".

The very existence of such a deity (cf. Krahmalkov 2000, 452) is doubtful.

l'y may mean "mighty one" (Halff 1963–1964, 129; cf. Benz 1972, 336–337. Instead of "servant of the mighty", Fuentes Estañol (1980, 191) translates ʽbdl'y as "el siervo es fuerte", while Harris (1936, 129) suggested that it may stand for ʽbd'lnm "or the like".

For rʽmlk (7x), scholars prefer a different interpretation of the element rʽ, although their proposals vary widely: "le roi a regardé" (Halff 1963–1964, 141); "amigo del rey" (Fuentes Estañol 1980, 228); "le consentement du dieu" (Ferjaoui 1993, 438).

Amadasi Guzzo 1986.

Amadasi Guzzo 1986, 60–64.

most attested element is bʽl (17x), the same as for Carthage. Of the following ten most popular elements in our corpus (bd, mlqrt, ʽbd, ḥnn, ʽštrt, mlk, 'šmn, 'rš, ʽzr, ytn), seven, although not in the same order, are among the most common in Motya: ʽbd (10/11x), ḥnn (4x); 'šmn, bd (3/4x), mlqrt, ʽzr, ytn (3x), while ḥmlk is here replaced by mlkt (4x). The most common DNs in the group from Motya are bʽl, 'šmn and mlqrt. The absence of ʽštrt can perhaps be explained by the small number of PNs involved. In Motya, whereas the only PN including mlqrt (3x) is ʽbdmlqrt, which is also the most common among the Carthaginian theophorous names with the same element, the element 'šmn probably appears four times, in four different PNs: ʽbd'šmn,'šmnʽms, 'šmnʽzr, possibly gr'[šmn]. In our sample from Carthage, ʽbd'šmn is by far the most common PN with the same element, and 'šmnʽms is also well represented (59x); in contrast, out of 724 instances, 'šmnʽzr is only attested three times, and gr'šmn once. The element most frequently associated with bʽl in Motya is ḥnn (bʽlḥnn, 2x, and ḥnbʽl, 1x), which is also the most frequently associated in Carthage, along with ysp (bʽlysp, 3x, against only 4 examples in Carthage out of the 2826 PNs including bʽl). Similarly, some of the other elements associated with bʽl in Motya are also very common in Carthage (ytn, 2x; šlk, ʽzr, ḥlṣ, all 1x), not uncommon (ʽz, ʽbd), extremely rare (mlk, 1x, only attested once at Carthage) or even unattested: rp'bʽ[l] (1x), hinting, if the proposed integration is correct, to a more explicit attention to healing power than the one found in Carthage (where the element rp' is only attested once, in the PN rp'). Also attested in Motya are the DNs mlk (ʽbdmlk, 1x), gd (bdgd, 1x), mskr (ʽbdmskr, 1x) and šlm (yknšlm, 1x, perhaps also šlm, 1x). It is of note that, in the sample from Carthage, bd is never attested in association with gd. The element qm (4x in Motya:<sup>169</sup> ḥqm, 3x,'bqm, 1x) is attested in Carthage only twice ('bqm, 2x). In conclusion, the two samples appear to be rather similar, albeit partly differing in the relative importance bestowed on the various attributes and with some occasional peculiarities.

# 9 Conclusive Remarks

Apparently, parents mostly preferred to commit their child to one of the main deities (bʽl, mlqrt, ʽštrt, and 'šmn), while others, like 's, šmš, ršp and šdrp', who were most probably worshipped in Carthage,170 are scarcely attested. The case of tnt, only present in 9 PNs out of the thousands of inscriptions explicitly dedicated to her, warn us against evaluating the popularity of a deity on the exclusive ground of their diffusion as an onomastic element, and the same is true for only looking at the dedications

Surely at least two of the occurrences refer to the same individual (Amadasi Guzzo 1986, 62).

In Carthage, a stone altar was dedicated to šdrp' (CIS I, 3921), while 's (CIS I, 6000bis), and most probably ršp (cf. CIS I, 251) and šmš (CIS I, 3780: 3ʹ, [ʽ]˹b˺d bt šm[š]) had temples.

made to him/her. Moreover, the lack of an attribute from the onomastic record concerning a deity does not imply the irrelevance of that attribute for the same deity. For example, neither the element qdš (which is not employed in PNs) nor the element bʽl (otherwise massively attested) are ever associated with the 181 occurrences of the DN skn. But in an inscription from the tophet of Carthage mentioning a servant of the temple of skn, the god is called b'l 'qdš. <sup>171</sup> Finally, it is not without interest to recall that we know from a funerary inscription from Carthage that a father (rm'šmn) and his son (ʽbd'šmn), both physicians, had theophoric names featuring 'šmn, a god whose patronage of health professionals is highly probable.172 However, among the names of the members of families including physicians (CIS I, 321–323; 3513; 4884f.) the element 'šmn only appears once (in the PN ʽbd'šmn).

# Bibliography

#### Abbreviations

DN = divine name. PN = personal name.

Amadasi Guzzo, Maria Giulia (1986) Scavi a Mozia – Le iscrizioni (Collezione di studi fenici 22), Roma.

Amadasi Guzzo, Maria Giulia / Zamora López, José Ángel, (2012–2013), "The Epigraphy of the Tophet", in: Paolo Xella (ed.), The Tophet in the Phoenician Mediterranean (Studi Epigrafici e Linguistici sul Vicino Oriente Antico 29–30), Verona, 159–192.

Benz, Frank L. (1972), Personal Names in the Phoenician and Punic Inscriptions (Studia Pohl 8), Roma. Bonnet, Corinne (1991), "L'élément théophore skn dans l'onomastique méditerranéenne", in: Atti del II

Congresso Internazionale di Studi Fenici e Punici, Roma, 9–14 Novembre 1987, II, Roma, 455–461.

Bonnet, Corinne / Minunno, Giuseppe / Porzia, Fabio, (2021), "Parce qu'il a écouté ma voix, qu'il me bénisse". Usages et portée d'une formule phénicienne et punique", in: Cahiers du Centre d'Études Chypriotes 51, 41–71.

Dahood, Mitchell (1964), "Hebrew-Ugaritic Lexicography II", in: Biblica 45, 393–412.

Ferjaoui, Ahmed (1993), Recherches sur les relations entre l'Orient phénicien et Carthage (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 124), Fribourg/Göttingen.

Février, James Germain (1946–1949), "Sur quelques noms libyques et puniques", in: Bulletin archéologique du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, 649–652.

Février, James Germain (1953), "La prononciation punique des noms propres latins en -us et en -ius", in: Journal asiatique 241, 465–471.

Fuentes Estañol, María-José (1980), Vocabulario fenicio (Biblioteca fenicia 1), Barcelona.

Garbini, Giovanni (1980), I Fenici. Storia e religione, Napoli.

Halff, Giselle (1963–1964), "L'onomastique punique de Carthage. Répertoire et commentaire", in: Karthago 12, 61–146.

Salem 1995, 364.

CIS I, 4841. Another possible mention of skn bʽl [qd]š at Carthage is found in a fragmentary inscription (CIS I, 4963).

Harris, Zellig S. (1936), A Grammar of the Phoenician Language (American Oriental Series 8), New Haven (CT). Heltzer, Michael (1986) "Phoenician theophorous names with the root 'MS", in: Corinne Bonnet / Edward

Lipiński / Patrick Marchetti (eds), Religio Phoenicia (Studia Phoenicia 4), Leuven, 239–247.


Israel, Felice (1995), "L'onomastique et la prosopographie", in: Véronique Krings (ed.), La civilisation phénicienne et punique. Manuel de recherche (Handbuch der Orientalistik I, 20), Leiden/New York/Köln, 215–221.

Israel, Felice (2013), "L'onomastica fenicia della Madrepatria: un primo aggiornamento", in: Françoise Briquel Chatonnet / Catherine Fauveaud / Iwona Gajda (eds.), Entre Carthage et l'Arabie heureuse. Mélanges offerts à François Bron, Paris, 217–234.

Jongeling, Karel (1984), Names in Neo-Punic Inscriptions, Groningen.

Krahmalkov, Charles R. (2000), Phoenician-Punic Dictionary (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 90. Studia Phoenicia 15), Leuven.

Lemaire, André (1986), "Divinités égyptiennes dans l'onomastique phénicienne", in: Corinne Bonnet, Édouard Lipiński and Patrick Marchetti (eds.), Religio Phoenicia. Acta Colloquii Namurcensis habiti diebus 14 et 15 mensis Decembris anni 1984 (Studia Phoenicia 4), Namur, 87–98.

Lidzbarski, Mark (1908), Ephemeris für semitische Epigraphik, II, Giessen.

Lipiński, Edward (1973) "SKN et SGN dans le sémitique occidental du nord", in: Ugarit-Forschungen 5, 191–207.

Lipiński, Edward (1989), "L'élément 'RŠ dans l'anthroponymie carthaginoise", in: Maria Macuch / Christa Müller-Kessler / Bert G. Fragner (eds.) Studia semitica necnon iranica Rudolpho Macuch septuagenario ab amicis et discipulis dedicata, Wiesbaden, 141–148.

Minunno, Giuseppe / Xella, Paolo (2021), "Sakon", in: Herbert Niehr / Paolo Xella (eds.), Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Phoenician Culture II.1. Religion - Deities and Mythical Characters, Leuven, 205–206.

Ribichini, Sergio (1975), Divinità egiziane nelle iscrizioni fenicie d'Oriente, in: Gianna Benigni et al., Saggi fenici-I (Collezione di Studi Fenici 6), Roma, 7–14.

Salem, Ali (1995), "Deux inscriptions carthaginoises inédites", in: M'hamed Hassine Fantar / Mansour Ghaki (eds.), Actes du IIIe Congrès International des études phéniciennes et puniques. Tunis, 11–16 novembre 1991, Tunis, 363–365.

Stieglitz, Robert R. (1998), "The Phoenician-Punic Menology", in: Meir Lubetski / Claire Gottlieb / Sharon Keller (eds.), Boundaries of the Ancient Near Eastern World. A Tribute to Cyrus H. Gordon (Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 273), Sheffield, 211–221.

Vattioni, Francesco (1977), "Onomastica punica nelle fonti latine nordafricane", in: Studi Magrebini 9, 1–7.

Vattioni, Francesco (1979), "Antroponimi fenicio-punici nell'epigrafia greca e latina del Nordafrica", in: Annali del Seminario di studi del mondo classico. Sezione di archeologia e storia antica, 153–191.

Vattioni, Francesco (1980), "Per una ricerca sull'antroponimia fenicio-punica", in Studi Magrebini 12, 83–164.

#### Brandon Simonson

# Theophoric Aramaic Personal Names as Onomastic Sequences in Diasporic and Cosmopolitan Communities

Abstract: Theophoric personal names simultaneously serve to identify an individual and make a statement about the deity invoked by each name. These personal names, this study argues, can be considered primary sources in their most essential form, reflecting one facet of a human attitude toward the divine that is otherwise free from the theological bias of an editor or redactor. Containing both onymic and semantic value, theophoric personal names can be read alongside divine epithets as they both shed light on humankind's perception of the gods. This chapter explores theophoric personal names in the Aramaic speaking world of diasporic and cosmopolitan Elephantine during the Persian period in order to seek insight into questions of how human names depict the complex and interrelated religious landscapes of multi-cultural communities. The rich theological landscape of Persian period Egypt as evidenced in Aramaic personal names demonstrates a confluence of cultures and religious traditions.

# 1 Introduction

This chapter explores theophoric personal names in the Aramaic speaking world, especially the diasporic and cosmopolitan context of Persian period Elephantine, in order to seek insight into questions of how human names depict the complex and interrelated religious landscapes of multicultural communities. Of especial interest in this study is the frequency of the descriptors (or non-theophoric elements) that are paired with a divine name in an onomastic sequence and their presence in contextual literary and legal texts. Where descriptors are common, uncommon, or rare in frequency indicates the influence of the named deity amongst the people whose names are listed in these everyday texts, and where native populations adopt foreign names also sheds light on this influence. Naming conventions are also reviewed. The results of this study also serve to highlight and critique current taxonomies that are used to explain naming practices.

While some cultures tend toward insular naming practices in multicultural communities, the overwhelming majority of people living in diasporic communities in the ancient Near East and Egypt adapt and assimilate to their new life situations. Individual personal names demonstrate a description of one facet of a relationship between individual and the divine, and the ever-changing nature and movement of cultural groups illustrates that the religious landscape was especially diverse and wide-ranging. When theophoric elements are changed, the diasporic community will typically choose a name related to the local or imperial language, and it is also clear that influential divine names had an impact on native populations. When non-theophoric elements are utilized, the deities are extant in the region, representing affinity toward a new deity that is not immediately apparent in the personal names of the parents. Rigid, scholarly constructions such as pantheons deteriorate in the midst of a fluid theological landscape that emerges from the appearance of divine names, epithets, and theophoric elements in Aramaic names from ancient Egypt. In this chapter, I will argue that the fluid religious landscape of a multicultural community encourages individual and family affinity toward a multitude of deities both inside and outside their own cultural milieu; while the process of assimilation is reflected in naming practices that occur in diasporic communities, a vocabulary of popular non-theophoric elements is still present in the legal and literary texts of the local community and demonstrates even greater fluidity at points of multiculturalism.

### 2 Personal Names as Onomastic Sequences

In the ancient Near East, personal names are comprised of theophoric and nontheophoric elements that function as onomastic sequences; in these sequences, the non-theophoric element serves to describe one facet of the theophoric element with which it is paired.<sup>1</sup> West Semitic names typically contain two elements, a subject and a predicate, whereas Akkadian names contain three elements, a subject, a predicate, and an object. The subject is typically a deity, though sometimes other terms indicating relationship (e.g., "father," "brother," etc.) can stand in their place. Onomastic sequences in personal names are, therefore, places where two or more constituent elements are grouped together in order to create a single meaningful expression. In the personal name, these meaningful expressions include Verbal Sentence Names (VSN), which are comprised of a divine name and a verb, and Nominal Sentence Names (NSN), which are comprised of a divine name and a noun either in the subject or predicate position. There are other name types as well, including: hypocoristica, where one element – often the divine name – is removed in order to shorten the name; One Word Names (OWN), which include single descriptive words often catego-

Cf. Bonnet et al. 2018, 589–590, where the order and arrangement of the elements in a divine name or binomial theonym should be read "comme un énoncé théologique capable d'éclairer la représentation que les hommes se faisaient d'une entité divine et de ses relations dans un ou plusieurs ensembles." (589) In the same way, personal names can function to shed light on this relationship between human and deity.

rized as "secular" or "profane"; and Genitive Compound Names (GCN), which form a brief description.<sup>2</sup>

Personal names can have both onymic and semantic value. The onymic value of a personal name emerges despite the multiple constituent elements of a name. In the case of onymic value, the personal name functions to identify a specific individual in a specific context; for example, הינדי is a Hebrew name of an individual who serves as an official representative of the Jewish garrison on the Island of Elephantine at the end of the fifth century BCE.<sup>3</sup> Semantic value exists simultaneously to onymic value; for example, the semantic value of הינדי is expressed in the form of a verbal sentence: "may Yah hear." <sup>4</sup> Therefore, הינדי is both an identifiable human being and the expression "may Yah hear." Regardless of the bearing it may have had on the individual holding that name, the semantic value of a personal name in an onomastic sequence served to describe an attribute or an action of the deity present in that sequence.<sup>5</sup>

We can describe the actions and attributes of deities as they were understood by the ancient people by gleaning insight from theophoric NSNs and VSNs, especially where these names utilize vocabulary found in the contemporaneous corpus, which would mean the people hearing these names spoken aloud would be familiar with the individual constituent elements of each personal name.<sup>6</sup> For the most part, these descriptions do not align with the depictions of the deity presented in reliefs and sculptures. Instead, they reveal a deity more intimately involved in the everyday matters and interests of human life. At times, relational appellatives stand in for the deity's proper name, portraying a close relationship between human and divine worlds.

NSNs are personal names that contain a divine name as a subject and a nominal predicate. Typically, the verb "to be" is inserted between these two nouns in order to form a sentence. NSNs describe the attributes of the deity, and the single meaningful expression illustrated in a NSN might highlight a deity's function in the life of the individual. In the Aramaic personal name ירושדדה") Hadad is my defensive wall"), for example, the divine name דדה") Hadad") is paired with the non-theophoric element רוש

GCNs and OWNs do not offer much insight into the description of the deity, and OWNs are often a single descriptor not in an onomastic sequence.

TAD A4.7:1. While the example is the name of an official and signatory of the temple letter, the personal name הינדי appears in several letters and contracts at Elephantine and can be associated with several individuals.

This personal name is a VSN containing a theophoric element "Yah" and the Imperfect form of a verb ןדא√) ʾdn, "to hear", cf. Porten/Lund 2002, 4).

In a pragmatic approach, linguist Richard Coates differentiates between onymic and semantic referential modes of meaning found in proper names. This might be a helpful distinction when it comes to understanding the multivalent meaning that can be found in ancient personal names, especially as ancient names both refer to the ancient individual being named and as they give us insight into the action performed by deity or attribute of the deity. Coates 2006, 356–382.

Names that appear in Biblical Hebrew, for example, are often studied alongside of the literary context of the Hebrew Bible and the epigraphic Hebrew texts. Cf. Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 21–56.

("wall") and the pronominal suffix י") ‐my").<sup>7</sup> This name portrays the deity Hadad not as the typical storm deity found in monumental reliefs, rather as a protector of the people. Compare this description of Hadad as a protector to iconography of the deity, which displays him hurling lightning bolts.<sup>8</sup> The question becomes this: how might the non-elite person understand the deity Hadad? If we look at evidence from Aramaic personal names, Hadad is described as everything but a vengeful storm deity.9

VSNs are personal names that contain a divine name as a subject and a verbal predicate. VSNs describe the actions of the deity. In the Aramaic personal name דבזלאתיב ("Bethel bestowed"), the divine name לאתיב") Bethel") is paired with the verb דבז") to bestow").10 In this case, the name portrays the deity Bethel as the deity bestows something, though what precisely is bestowed is unclear.

Personal names can function to identify an entity and they can also identify an attribute or action of an entity, which may or may not be related the person holding that particular name. Regardless of the relationship between the semantic meaning of a personal name and its onymic meaning (i.e., the individual bearing that name), the semantic meaning of the personal name reflects communal perception of the divine entity and a contemporaneous attitude toward the deity's function or capacity according to a prevailing ancient worldview. It is from the single meaningful expressions found in these onomastic sequences that theological meaning and classification can be derived.

# 3 Theological Meaning and Classification of Personal Names in the Ancient Near East

The theological analysis and classification of personal names in the ancient Near East has changed incrementally during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries CE. The primary methods of ancient Near Eastern onomastics derive from a focus on the study of Biblical Hebrew personal names. Martin Noth's formative work on the Hebrew personal names has shaped the study of personal names in biblical Hebrew and

Six individuals from Syria share the name ירושדדה") Hadad is my defensive wall"), which appears in both alphabetic and cuneiform. Simonson 2019, 187–188.

Greenfield 1993, 58–59. Likewise, the presentation of Hadad in DDD describes Hadad as "the ancient Near Eastern storm god . . . known among various groups in the Mesopotamian and Syrian world" and speaks about his role as a thunderer (van der Toorn et al. 1999, 377–382).

Descriptions of Hadad as a storm deity also include more supportive imagery, such as is present in the Tell Fekherye inscription, which refers to Hadad of Sikkān as "water controller of heaven and earth, who brings down prosperity, and provides pasture and watering place for all the lands" (Lipiński 1994, 48–49).

For a listing of names with the theophoric לאתיב , cf. Porten 2014, 230.

other ancient Near Eastern languages.<sup>11</sup> In this work, Noth categorizes biblical Hebrew names in terms of the relationship between human and deity.<sup>12</sup> The categories include: Bekenntnisnamen (names of confession), Vertrauensnamen (names of trust), Danknamen (names of thanksgiving), Wunschnamen (names of desire), and profanen namen (profane or secular names).<sup>13</sup> With some consideration of the intention behind the personal name, these categories are grouped together based on the grammatical structure of the onomastic sequence: names of confession are NSNs and rarely OWNs; names of trust are also NSNs; names of thanksgiving are VSNs and GCNs; names of desire are VSNs in the imperfect; and profane names are mostly OWNs unrelated to the divine.14

Noth's categories indicate an individual expression toward the divine. In his names of confession category, we find that names of confession relay a simple and plain knowledge of a particular deity and its service, and become henotheistically inclined in the post-exilic period.15 These names include NSNs and some Genitive Construct Names, but the types of NSNs varied.<sup>16</sup> Names of trust are slightly different from names of confession because they reflect and strengthen humankind's trust in the deity, and that trust emerged from a particular kind of friendliness with the deity (or a gesture relayed by the deity).<sup>17</sup> In this sense, these names of trust were also NSNs.<sup>18</sup> Names of thanksgiving included VSNs and some types of construct names, with the bearer offering thanks to the deity.<sup>19</sup> Names of desire, then, were VSNs in the Imperfect, so they retained a sense of want or desire as if the action of the verb had not yet happened. Noth's system of classification ultimately relied on grammatical construction first and intention – which Noth intuited from the type of verb utilized – second.<sup>20</sup>

Like Noth, Rainer Albertz explores Hebrew names in the biblical text and epigraphic corpus. He argues that while Israelite personal names do not attest to the religion of ancient Israel, they do instead attest to the personal piety and family religion


Noth 1928, 147–148.

Noth 1928, 169–170.

 Though I will not cover them in this chapter, there were several other influential twentieth century CE interpreters who outlined taxonomic systems of classification based on grammatical and theological concerns, including: Fowler 1988; Hunsberger 1969; Pike 1990; Zadok 1988.

Noth 1928.

Noth 1928, 147.

However, these NSNs differed ever so slightly, requiring some context as to the specific events of help and kindness (Noth 1928, 148). This interpretation, of course, requires some kind of additional context; in this specific case, that context can be found in the biblical material.

of the ancient Israelites and Judeans bearing these names.21 In analyzing these names, Albertz modified Noth's grammatical and intentional taxonomic nomenclature, including a form-critical criterion and adding additional conceptual categories over the next few decades. The initial categories included: names of thanksgiving, names of confession, names of praise, equating names, and secular names.<sup>22</sup> In 2012, Albertz added a new situational criterion: names related to the process of birth.23

The categories "names of thanksgiving" and "names of confession" were both similar to Noth's categories. The primary difference in the initial reclassification appears in the "names of praise" category, which Albertz claims are made up of names that are found in the hymns of ancient Israel; these hymns are available to us today in the biblical book of Psalms.24 Equating names are NSNs where the divine name is equated to the nominal predicate.25

While Albertz's additional form-critical criterion adds a rich dimension to Noth's grammatical and intentional system of classification, it would be difficult to impose this form-critical criterion upon onomastica outside of the Hebrew context of ancient Israel.<sup>26</sup> If we have anything close to a universal system of classification for the theological meaning behind ancient Near Eastern names, that system is likely more compatible with Noth's grammatical and intentional criteria, which depend on contextual materials but are not overly dependent on specific biblical genres (e.g., hymns in the biblical book of Psalms). Noth's intentional and grammatical criteria are still informed by a contextual reading of literature.

A recent project, "Datenbank Althebräische Personennamen", categorizes biblical and epigraphic Hebrew NSNs and VSNs into a larger number of conceptual categories.27 These categories are listed in appendix 3 of the User Guide for the database.28 The lexicon and morphology volumes are especially helpful for the study of ancient personal names. For this study, we shall proceed with Noth's concise grammatical and intentional criteria behind the interpretation of theophoric personal names.

Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 245; Albertz 1978, 49–77.

Albertz 1978, 49–77.

Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 252. Albertz claims that nearly one third of all epigraphic Hebrew names are related to the process of birth, and slightly more from the Hebrew Bible are related to the process of birth. (252 n. 21).

Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 252.

Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 252.

An application and critique of the form-critical criterion can be found, in part, in the conclusions of Simonson 2019, 634–638. To reiterate, should the personal name קרב") lighting") reflect a quick process of birth when the context of the name gives the name to a servant of the god ןימשרתע") Attar of the Skies")? (Cf. Lipiński 2000, 608; Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 602; Simonson 2019, 635–636). The problem here is one of context.

DAHPN, https://www.dahpn.gwi.uni-muenchen.de/.

"User Guide", DAHPN, https://www.dahpn.gwi.uni-muenchen.de/wp-content/uploads/User-Guide.pdf.

# 4 The Theology of a Name in a Diasporic Community

In the process of determining the theological meaning of a name in a multicultural context, there are three distinct points that must be considered: first, the ethnicity of the individual bearing the name in relationship to the wider context of ethnic groups present in the multicultural community; second, the broader theological landscape of the diasporic community including the recognition of divine names and attributes in the embedded contexts; and third, the extant resources that are available to study from this community, which ultimately reflect the source data from which contemporaneous understandings of the divine can be accessed. After reviewing these three points, this section will consider specific theophoric and non-theophoric elements from the collection of Aramaic names at Elephantine, addressing how they function as onomastic sequences that make a theological claim about the deity with which they are paired. Attention will be paid to situations where cross-cultural contact has occurred. This analysis will allow us to explore how human names depict the complex and interrelated religious landscapes of multicultural communities within the specific confines of the Aramaic speaking world of Persian period Egypt.

In a cosmopolitan center such as Elephantine, personal names are just as diverse as the ethnic identities of the individuals bearing these names. Amongst the personal names in the Aramaic texts from Elephantine, it is argued that there is evidence of Arameans, Babylonians, Bactrians, Caspians, Egyptians, Greeks, Jews, Khwarezmians, Medes, and Persians among others.29 Determining the ethnicity of the individual is a task that falls disproportionately on onomastic evidence and the presence of a nisbe or gentilic.

In multicultural and diasporic communities, personal names can have relatively little bearing on the process of identifying the ethnicity of the individual. In fact, it is often impossible to determine whether an individual was an ethnic Aramean based on personal name alone,<sup>30</sup> since the centuries of assimilation and intercultural interaction have broken down barriers that once allowed communities to delineate membership based on the use of common names. Some scholars even describe ethnic Arameans as purposefully choosing names that would allow them to be concealed "behind Egyptian or even Babylonian proper names." 31

The rise of Aramaic as a lingua franca also complicates the process. F. Mario Fales argues that by the end of the Neo-Assyrian period the Aramean people were assimilated into Assyrian society and culture, so the nisbe KURAramayyu started to serve

See the analysis of Kornfeld 1977, 19–35; for Egyptian names: Porten 2002, 283–327; for Persian names: Porten 2003, 165–186; for Akkadian names: Porten 2016, 1–12.

Botta 2002, 368.

Vittmann 2017, 229. Choosing locally prevailing or popular personal names was likely one way foreign populations could assimilate into local culture, but the multicultural nature of the Elephantine community demonstrates a wide range of assimilation.

both a linguistic and cultural function.32 When applied to scribes, the nisbe indicated fluency in the Aramaic language and script rather than ethnic affiliation. In this way, the Jews of Elephantine may have been identified by the nisbe ימרא") Aramean") because of their ability to speak Aramaic rather than their ethnic affiliation.<sup>33</sup> One example from Elephantine illustrates the fluid nature of the combination of names and nisbae: אילבבירונדדה") Hadad-nuri the Babylonian"), an Aramaic name with a nisbe affirming a Babylonian origin, located in an Egyptian text.<sup>34</sup>

Assimilation of ethnic Arameans into Assyrian and Babylonian cultures is clear in names that contain a deity of one linguistic or cultural origin alongside a nontheophoric element of another linguistic or cultural origin. This phenomenon is apparent in both Syro-Mesopotamian and Egyptian texts. This assimilation likely occurred prior to the arrival of the Aramean populations to Egypt and may have continued based on interaction with other, disparate Aramean groups that also relocated to Egypt.35

Based on an analysis of Aramaic personal names from the Aramaic papyri from ancient Egypt, Karel van der Toorn argues that there was a Bethel group and a Nabu group amongst the Aramean population at Elephantine: the former from Syria and operating the temples of Bethel and the Queen of Heaven, and the latter from Babylonia and operating the temples of Nabu and Banit.<sup>36</sup> A proliferation of theophoric elements evoking these Syrian and Babylonian origins reveal an Aramean presence on the Island as much as a Judean, Persian, or Egyptian presence on the Island. It is not surprising that assimilated names of multi-lingual origins feature these theophoric elements.

Once in Egypt, residents of these newly created multicultural communities also experienced additional assimilation as it is evidenced in naming practices. Günter Vittmann explores five different naming patterns in Late Period Egypt, arguing that there was some degree of cultural adaptation as demonstrated by Egyptian parents giving their children Aramaic names.<sup>37</sup> These include: various combinations of father and mother, one with a foreign name and the other with an Egyptian name, giving their child an Egyptian name; both parents with a foreign name giving their child an

Fales 2017, 165.

This is also suggested in Vittmann 2017, 230 in reference to the individual named Meshullam, who is designated as both תזירולגדלןוסיזימרא") Aramean of Syene and the detachment of Varyazata", in TAD B3.3:2–3) and אתריבבייזידוהי") Jew of Elephantine the fortress", in TAD B3.1:3) among other variations (cf. Porten 2011, 186 n. 8).

TAD B2.2:19. Porten argues that the presence of this name demonstrates "that there is no consistent pattern of association between the linguistic origin of an individual's name and his cultural background or identification" (Porten 2016, 6).

The Aramean tribal groups were vastly diverse and spread throughout the Fertile Crescent from Syria to Babylonia. Cf. Lipiński 2000; Younger 2016.

van der Toorn 2019, 53.

Vittmann 2017, 264; also cf. Vittmann 2003, 239–241.

Egyptian name; all members with names of the same origin; and, finally, a father with an Egyptian name and a son with a foreign name.<sup>38</sup> The final model, Vittmann argues, is very common in the Aramaic texts from ancient Egypt and does not fit the model of typical cultural assimilation that would be expected in Late Period Egypt.<sup>39</sup>

How, then, might one interpret a name like בזשלאתיב") Bethel has saved") that was given by his father wꜣḥ-ı͗b-rʿ ("the heart of Re endures") at Elephantine as this does not appear to represent cultural assimilation?40 Greater spheres of cultural and theological influence must be addressed in order to acknowledge the fluid religious landscape of the multicultural community. Therefore, it is necessary to evaluate evidence of a much broader theological landscape at Elephantine.

The broader theological landscape of Aramaic-speaking ancient Egypt is primarily illustrated by both the theophoric elements present in personal names and in the divine names and epithets that appear in these texts. In the Aramaic documents from ancient Egypt, divine names and epithets included a wide range of deities that represent many diverse cultures. Gods and goddesses in the Aramaic material include the Persian Ahuramazda; Egyptian Amon, Atumnebʾon, Isis, Khnum, Min, Nemmaʿati, Osiris, Osiris-Ḥapi, Ptaḥ, and Sati; Semitic deities Anatbetʾel, Anatyahu, Bʿel, Bʿelšemayin, Banit, Bel, Bethel, El, Ešembethel, Ḥerem, Ḥerembetʾel, Malkatšemayin, Nabu, Nergal, Šamaš, Sin, and Yahu; and North Arabian Hanʾilat.41

In the Aramaic text corpus from ancient Egypt, a limited number of divine names appear alongside terse descriptors in divine epithets. These epithets are meant to convey basic information about the deities that they describe, but they also function to legitimize the divine status of the deity. This is typical of the Imperial Aramaic text corpus across Egypt, the Levant, and Syro-Mesopotamia.42

At Elephantine, epithets affirm the divine nature of the gods that they describe. The most popular epithets in the Imperial Aramaic text corpus are simply variations of "[Divine Name] the God", "[Divine Name] the God who is in Elephantine the Fortress", and "[Divine Name] the God/Master/Queen/Lord of Heaven". <sup>43</sup> Epithets like these, while relatively terse, are functional. They establish a solid basis for – and acceptance of – the divine in a community with many deities.

Bi-lingual texts often portray the disparities between epithets in Egyptian and Imperial Aramaic. In a funerary inscription from Khastemeḥi, for example, the deity Osi-

Vittmann 2017, 264.

Vittmann 2017, 266.

TAD D9.10:7; cf. Porten 2002, 89.

Porten/Lund 2002, 425–427.

Cf. Imperial Aramaic sources in DB MAP: https://base-map-polytheisms.huma-num.fr/.

Epithets containing "[Divine Name] the God" appear 38 times, "[Divine Name] the God who is in Elephantine the Fortress" appears 14 times (eleven of which with the deity והי and three with Khum), and variations of "[Divine Name] the God/Master/Queen/Lord of Heaven" appear 13 times.

ris is invoked.<sup>44</sup> The Egyptian inscription reads: wsı͗r ḫnty-ı͗mntyw nṯr ʿꜢ nb Ꜣbḏw ("Osiris, lord of the westerners, great god, lord of Abydos"), documenting in detail a royal offering to the deity.<sup>45</sup> The Imperial Aramaic translation is terse, and renders the epithet: אהלאירסוא") Osiris the god").46

Though the Imperial Aramaic epithet provides a minimum amount of context necessary to identify Osiris as a god, it still recognizes the divinity of Osiris and the role that the deity plays in the funerary inscription. In this way, those who could not read or understand spoken Egyptian might still understand the divine nature of the god. Divine names and epithets, therefore, serve to legitimize the names and identities of gods to a wider audience beyond that of singular ethnic communities.

Many of the theophoric and non-theophoric elements that appear in Aramaic personal names are represented in some way in the extant text corpus. While the corpus includes the letters, contracts, and other documents from ancient Egypt, they also include a number of literary texts.47 In short, the vocabulary of the theophoric and nontheophoric elements will help us understand how humans perceived the divine.

Moving forward, I will now turn to a select number of theophoric and nontheophoric elements in personal names in order to determine how they represent the relationship between humankind and the divine. The presence of theophoric elements serves to confirm the religious landscape of the ancient community, signaling the presence of particular cults. Non-theophoric elements illustrate unique understandings of the divine names that appear with them. The selection of these theophoric and non-theophoric elements will include Nabu and Bethel, the two most common deities from Aramean communities, and the non-theophoric elements will include unique descriptors and common descriptors from both Elephantine and wider Egypt. Altogether, these names will represent one facet of the fluid theological landscape that was Persian Egypt.

#### 4.1 Theophoric Elements

The theophoric elements extant in personal names from the Elephantine corpus are wide-ranging. Extant texts from ancient Egypt that explicitly mention the name of these deities outside of the context of personal names are relatively reduced in number. Included here are theophoric elements in personal names that are also present as separate divine names and epithets in the extant material. These divine names will include Nabu and Bethel. Nabu and Bethel were chosen because they represent the

TAD D20.3 = DB MAP S#6521.

TAD D20.3:1ʹ. Cf. Porten/Yardeni 1999, 254.

TAD D20.3:2 = DB MAP T#8425.

Additionally, other works of literature are extant, including a corpus of material relevant to the religious communities from Syria-Mesopotamia and the Levant in P. Amherst 63 (van der Toorn 2018).

traditions of two different Aramean communities in diaspora, and they appear alongside non-theophoric elements that might be best explained by extant legal and literary material later in this section. In this way, Nabu and Bethel names can best represent the complex religious landscape of multicultural communities in Persian Egypt.

A presence of the cult of Nabu near Elephantine is established in the Aramaic materials as early as the sixth century BCE. Reference to the "Temple of Nabu" appears in TAD A2.3:1 in the greeting formula of a letter.48 The letter dates to the fifth century BCE, and was sent to a woman היער") friend") in Syene by her brother תנבכמ") Who is like Banit?") in Hermopolis. Both children have Aramaic names, unlike their father ימספ) hypocoristicon of ךשמספ ," man of mixed wine"), who has an Egyptian name.49 His father, however, is identified as ןתנובנ") Nabu gave"). In this case we find a man with an Aramaic name giving his son an Egyptian name, who in turn gives his children Aramaic names. Also indicative of a cult of Nabu, an inscription on a ceramic coffin in Syene dating to the end of the fifth century BCE marks the final resting place of "Sheil the priest of Nabu." 50

The epithet "Nabu the God" appears twice in the Aramaic documents from Ancient Egypt. In TAD B8.4:7, a court record from Saqqara, the divine name appears in the title of person whose name is lacunose: אהלאובנדבע] . . .]") [PN] servant of Nabu the God").51 In TAD D23.6:7, the Sheikh Fadl Cave inscription, the divine name appears on an otherwise illegible relief: אהלאובנ") Nabu the God").52 These epithets serve to legitimize and recognize the status of Nabu as a god to readers otherwise unfamiliar with the divine status of the being. The presence of a Temple to Nabu in Upper Egypt can also attest to the impact that the Nabu cult had on its environs.

Outside of the Egyptian material, epithets of Nabu are attested in the Temple of Nabu at Palmyra: ארכשואבטאהלאובנל") for Nabu, the good and rewarding god"),<sup>53</sup> which speaks to a characteristic of the divine. Though it is not paired with Nabu, nontheophoric element בט is relatively common in Aramaic personal names in the documents from ancient Egypt.<sup>54</sup> One of which, בטוחא") the brother is good"), appears in five different ostraca.55

DB MAP S#3153.

TAD A2.3:1.

The name ךשמספ is the same as the name of Pharaoh Psammetichus, who was called Nabu-šēzibanni ( mdMUATI-še-zib-an-ni) in the royal inscriptions of Aššurbanipal from the seventh century BCE (Ashurbanipal 011, http://oracc.org/rinap/Q003710/).

TAD D18.1; for the dating see Porten/Yardeni 1999, 239.

TAD B8.4 = DB MAP S#6450.

TAD D23.1 = DB MAP S#6527; the name of the god Nabu also appears on panel 16a.

Aramaic names attested are בטבא]") the] father is good", TAD D23.1a:1), בטיבא") my father is good", TAD D21.1:2), בטוחא") the brother is good," TAD D7.2:1; D7.3:1; D7.4:1; D7.5:1; D7.10:4), בטחא]") the] brother is good", TAD D7.6:4; D7.7:9; D7.8:12), and בטמש]") the] name is good", TAD D23.1a:2). TAD D7.2:1; D7.3:1; D7.4:1; D7.5:1; D7.10:4.

At Elephantine, Aramaic names with the theophoric element ובנ include:

ךרבובנ") Nabu blessed," VSN, Thanksgiving),56 הלדובנ") Nabu drew up," VSN, Thanksgiving),57 ינלדובנ") Nabu drew me up," VSN, Thanksgiving),58 בהיובנ") Nabu gave," VSN, Thanksgiving),59 ירנובנ") Nabu is my flame," NSN, Confession),60 ןתנובנ") Nabu gave," VSN, Thanksgiving),61 בקעובנ") Nabu rescued," VSN, Thanksgiving),62 יערובנ") Nabu is my friend" NSN, Trust),63 בזשובנ") Nabu rescued," VSN, Thanksgiving),64 ולשובנ") Nabu is tranquil," NSN, Confession),65 and םלשובנ") Nabu requited," VSN, Thanksgiving).66 The overwhelming majority of Nabu names at Elephantine are VSNs that can be interpreted as Names of Thanksgiving, though two Names of Confession and one name of trust also appear. Many of the non-theophoric elements paired with the theophoric element ובנ are common, but there is one unique non-theophoric element: בהי") to give"). From these names, three will receive greater scrutiny in the next part of this section: בהי") to give"), בזש") to rescue"), and רונ") flame").

The cult of Bethel is also established in Elephantine, primarily through the personal names present in the text corpus, but also with the presence of the divine name. Only one tangentially related epithet appears; it is related to the deity Ḥerembethel. The epithet reads: אהלאלאתיבמרח") Ḥerembethel the god").67 Reference to a Temple of Bethel appears in the letter TAD A2.1, which is addressed to city of Syene.68

Names with the theophoric element לאתיב appear abundantly at Elephantine and Syene: דבזלאתיב") Bethel bestowed," VSN, Thanksgiving),<sup>69</sup> רדנלאתיב) likely read "Bethel illuminated," VSN, Thanksgiving),70 ירונלאתיב") Bethel is my flame," NSN, Confession),<sup>71</sup> ןתנלאתיב") Bethel gave," VSN, Thanksgiving),<sup>72</sup> יערלאתיב") Bethel is my friend," NSN,

TAD C4.9:2.


TAD A2.1:3, 9; B6.4:9, 10; D7.35:2; D9.9:2.

TAD D11.9:2.

TAD A3.4:3; D9.9:5.

TAD A6.9:1.

TAD C4.8:8.

TAD A2.1:1 mentions the Temple of Bethel and the Temple of the Queen of Heaven. The letter is written by השובנ) from √šzb "Nabu rescued") to his sister םחיננ") Nanay ḥm"). The patronymic of Nabušezib, םנחתפ") the one Khnum gave"), appears on the envelope.

TAD B3.9:11.

TAD A3.2:1.

TAD C3.15:6.

Confession),<sup>73</sup> בזשלאתיב") Bethel rescued," VSN, Thanksgiving),<sup>74</sup> ןדתלאתיב") Bethel, may you judge," VSN, Desire),<sup>75</sup> and םקתלאתיב") Bethel may you rise," VSN, Desire).<sup>76</sup> Names of Thanksgiving are, once again, the most abundant classification, followed by two names of desire and two names of confession. From these names the non-theophoric terms בזש and רונ will be covered.

#### 4.2 Non-Theophoric Elements

A variety of non-theophoric elements are present in Nabu and Bethel names, both of which have established cults and temples at Elephantine. These non-theophoric elements are also present in extant literary and legal material, which will yield insight into how the ancient people understood these terms. In this section I will explore the semantic range of the verbs בהי") to give") and בזש") to save") and the noun רונ") flame"). The semantic ranges of these non-theophoric elements serve to describe an individual's understanding of the deity with which they are paired, highlighting the relationship between human and divine worlds.

The non-theophoric element בהי is a very common verb in the Aramaic material from ancient Egypt, but it is only attested as a theophoric element in one name.77 It appears alongside the theophoric element Nabu in Egypt in the name בהיובנ") Nabu gave").78 While this descriptor is unique in Egyptian Aramaic, the term ןתנ") to give") appears to be a preferred non-theophoric with this meaning as it is extant in many names at Elephantine. In the material from Syro-Mesopotamia, בהי is a relatively uncommon non-theophoric element appearing in the names בהילא") El gave"), יבהידד") Dadi gave"), בהידה") Hadad has given"), and בהישמש") Šamaš has given").79 All attestations of the verb as a non-theophoric element appear in Syria (ranging from Harran in the west to Dur-Katlimmu and Nineveh in the east), though the term also appears in Akkadian names. It is likely that this name is a remnant from an earlier, Syro-Mesopotamian context.

Particularly striking in the context of בהיובנ are his descendants. TAD C4.9 is a fragmentary list of Egyptian names. The relevant line reads: בהיובנרבתינפרבךשמספ") Psamshek son of Paneith son of Nabuyahab").80 Here, we find an individual with an Aramean name giving his son an Egyptian name תינפ") He of Neith"), who gave his son the Egyptian name ךשמספ") the man of mixed wine"). This is an example of assimilation typical


TAD C4.9:2.

TAD B3.9:11.

TAD A2.5:6; D9.9:7.

TAD C4.9:2.

Simonson 2019, 214, 292, 307, 581.

of a multicultural community: an Aramean population moved into the area, and gave local Egyptian names to subsequent generations. It is likely that the בהי non-theophoric, common in Syro-Mesopotamia, was a name given to בהיובנ prior to his arrival in Egypt.

The non-theophoric element בזש") to save") is attested as a verb throughout the Aramaic documents in ancient Egypt.<sup>81</sup> In TAD A4.3, the verb appears in a narrative about the letter-writer being held in captivity by the Persian commander Vidranga under suspicion of stealing stone, only to be rescued by the servants of Anani, who intervened on behalf of the author.82

In the extant copy of Aḥiqar, the verb בזש appears in Aḥiqar's appeal to his executioner: "I am Aḥiqar who formerly rescued you from an innocent killing . . ." <sup>83</sup> The act of rescuing here happens at the height of risk to Aḥiqar: as he is about to be executed, he recounts the tale of his once rescuing his executioner. The executioner understands what Aḥiqar has done and spares him his sentence. In two other fragmentary letters, it is clear that a god is credited with the rescue: יליהךבזשאהלא ," the god rescued you, my troop" <sup>84</sup> and ןבזשאהלאו ," and the god rescued us." <sup>85</sup> Unfortunately the letters are too fragmentary to understand any additional context, but it is clear that one activity of the divine is the ability to rescue.

Of the names listed above, the verb בזש appears in בזשובנ and בזשלאתיב . Both names offer contrast to what we find with בהיובנ : with these names, we find an Egyptian father giving an Aramaic name to his children. In TAD A2.1, םנחטפרבבזשובנ") Nabushezib son of Petekhnum") writes to his sister םחיננ") Nanay ḥm").86 The Patronymic םנחתפ is derived from the Egyptian pꜢ-dj-ẖnm ("the one Khnum gave"). Little is known about the patriarch's context and the children's mother is only known by the lallative הממ") Mama").87 Additionally, בזשלאתיב is given an Aramaic name by his father ערפחו , derived from the Egyptian wꜢḥ-ıb-r ͗ ʿ ("the heart of Re endures") as it appears on a list of names.88 In both cases, the influence of Nabu and Bethel temple cults were a significant draw to assimilate. The story of בזשובנ is told in several letters, many of which contain wide ranging onomastica, with the letter-writer inquiring of many individuals with both Aramaic and Egyptian names, and both Aramaic and Egyptian theophoric elements.89

בזש itself is an Akkadian loanword, but common to Aramaic. Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon, https://cal.huc.edu.

TAD A4.3:3–4.

TAD C1.1:46.

TAD D1.24.

TAD D1.30.

TAD A2.1:15.

TAD A2.1:14.

TAD D9.10:7.

TAD A2.1; A2.2; A2.3; A2.4; A2.5.

The non-theophoric element רונ") flame", though also translated "light") <sup>90</sup> is frequently attested in Aramaic names in Syro-Mesopotamia,<sup>91</sup> and is likewise found at Elephantine: ירונחא]") the] brother is my flame"),92 ירונלאתיב") Bethel is my flame"),93 ירונדדה") Hadad is my flame"),94 שמשרונ]") the] flame is Šamaš"),<sup>95</sup> and ירונשמש) Šamaš is my flame).<sup>96</sup> The defective spelling רנ is also extant twice in the Elephantine material: ירנחא]") the] brother is my flame"),97 and ירנובנ") Nabu is my flame").98

The Elephantine papyri do not preserve the word רונ . However, the term appears in multiple places in P. Amherst 63, especially in relation to these divine names. In the so-called "Magnificat for the Lady of the Sanctuary" column I,<sup>99</sup> we find a dialogue between the Herald of Gaddi-El and the deity Nabu. The Herald of Gaddi-El requests Nabu to:

```
hw2y+qʾr2[ʾnʾ | kʾ]+r2šʾp |
h[w2y] + ⸢mʾ⸣yʾdʾr ⸢|⸣ kw2⸣[kbn|]
[k x x x x](n)ʾ + dy | y⸢ḫ2⸣[nb x x x x x] |
ʿl.C ny{|}r2[ʾ]⸢kʾ⸣ | nʾr2[ḥʾṣ |]
[bʾšmyn] | rmʾ | nw[r2ʾkʾ |]
```
Be shin[ing like] Resheph! Gi[ve sp]lendor to the sta[rs] [Like gold (?)] that shi[nes.] In your light we will tr[ust]. [In heaven your] light is exalted. 100

Here the deity Nabu is called upon to magnify and crown mrty.C dy2y[kʾ] "the Lady of the Sanctuary", an epithet given to the attested divine name יתרמ") Lady"). Nabu is called mry.G "O Lord", but throughout the passage Nabu is defined by his ability to hw2y+qʾr2[ʾnʾ] "be shining". <sup>101</sup> Two characteristics of Nabu are prevalent: that in Nabu's

Simonson 2019, 138 and 683.

Kornfeld 1978, 43; Porten/Lund 2002, 332; Porten 2014, 223–236.

Kornfeld 1978, 75; Porten/Lund 2002, 416.

 Quotations and translation of P. Amherst 63 are from van der Toorn 2018. In these cases, van der Toorn uses "light" to translate רונ .

For more on the semantic range of רונ , see Gzella (ed.) 2018, 466–468; Litke 2013, 149–150; Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon: http://cal.huc.edu.

Porten/Lund 2002, 322.

Kornfeld 1978, 47; Porten/Lund 2002, 339.

Kornfeld 1978, 62; Porten/Lund 2002, 380. Both Kornfeld and Porten/Lund read this name as שושרונ , though Kornfeld interprets the name as שמשרונ) cf. discussion in Kornfeld 1978, 62).

Porten/Lund 2002, 322.

Likewise, the defective spelling רנ appears in Syro-Mesopotamian texts with the name ירנדא) Simonson 2019, 171), (297) ירנדד xand the hypocoristiconx(442–443) ירנ .

van der Toorn 2018, 44.

van der Toorn 2018, 44 i 5.

light (ny{|}r2[ʾ]⸢kʾ⸣) the people will trust and in heaven Nabu's light (rm<sup>ʾ</sup> | nw[r2ʾkʾ) is exalted.102

Though the text is primarily concerning the magnification of the Lady of the Sanctuary, the reader learns about the attributes of Nabu and his relationship to the light, characteristics that are represented in personal names from Elephantine, especially ירנובנ") Nabu is my flame").103 The name ירנובנ appears as a patronymic on a list: ירנובנרבםרמשא ," Eshemram son of Nabunuri". <sup>104</sup> Here, the father appears to hail from the Babylonian Aramean population and the son was given a fully Aramaic name: םרמשא") Eshem is exalted").105 Other names using רונ might also evoke such poetry as is found in column I of P. Amherst 63, which describe the god Nabu as both divine and celestial. Nabu's light might just give way to the confession in the NSN ירנובנ .

Nabu is not the only deity described by the word רונ in P. Amherst 63. In column IV, line 23, which is partially reconstructed, the "planets and constellations" speak to the goddess Nanay, the Queen of Heaven, identifying her as the Lady of the Sanctuary. The text reads:

```
mʾzʾ {|} lʾty2 + ybʾ[r2k]
⸢kʾ⸣dʾ<n> | n⸢rn.C⸣ [dy lylʾ]
mnn
    zʾlʾ[n +]⸢mn⸣zʾlyn [x x x x]
šʾ | bʾnʾ | [nwrʾky] | mrty.C yʾbʾr2[kw3.C]
Let the Constellations speak a bles[sing]
Just so the lights [of the night,]
The planets and the constellations:
Elevate between us [your light (?)]!" They bless the Lady ...106
```
If we read van der Toorn's reconstruction nwrʾky, the goddess is also described as capable of radiating light. In this way, the goddess is comparable to all of the celestial bodies mentioned in the text.

Both columns X and XI of P. Amherst 63 include the word רונ . In column X, the cloud of the ירמ" Lord" occludes the light (wʾnʾr2) from reaching the land of Rash, and the petitioner asks for the cloud to be removed and the Lady awoken.<sup>107</sup> Once awoken, the luminescence (here q2ʾr{|}nʾt "rays" rather than nwr) of the יתרמ might be seen again.<sup>108</sup> In column XI, "shining" is a quality of the Lord of Rash (mry.C ⸢mn + rʾš⸣

Two Akkadian names from the Neo-Assyrian text corpus describe Nabu in similar light: Nabû-nūrka -lāmur ("O Nabû, let me see your light!") and Nabû-nūru-nammir ("O Nabû, make the light shine!") (Baker 2001, 858).

Kornfeld 1978, 61.

TAD C4.8:8. Porten suggests either "Nabunur" or "Nabunad[in]" here.

Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon 2022: http://cal.huc.edu; Simonson 2019, 700.

van der Toorn 2018, 108, iv 21–23. Line 20 also contains nr, but it is unclear whether this light is describing the deity or the sun.

van der Toorn 2018, 141, x 2–3.

van der Toorn 2018, 142, x 7.

ʾH), and by shining and speaking, the Lord of Rash burns the lands "like columns of fire". 109

The word רונ is a non-theophoric element explicitly present in the descriptions of deities in both P. Amherst 63 and within the personal names of the Elephantine papyri.110 Likewise, the non-theophoric element is also paired with another divine name in the name ירונלאתיב") Bethel is my flame"): the name in this text is a patronymic that appears next to an individual who is giving silver to YHW the god, ירונלאתיברבעשוה") Hosea son of Bethelnuri").111 In this text it is clear that the son Hosea is tithing to the deity YHW and is therefore part of the Jewish garrison of the Island of Elephantine. This is likely a case of assimilation, though not to a dominant culture, where the father with the Aramean name Bethelnuri gave his son the name Hosea once joining the Jewish community on the Island.

Each personal name is capable of evoking a description of a deity that can be corroborated by the descriptions and characteristics present in extant texts from this time period. The individual ירנובנ") Nabu is my flame") lived at the end of the 5th century BCE, around the same time as Shiel the priest of the Nabu temple. Collected literature at the time, including P. Amherst 63, illuminates what a name like ירנובנ might mean to a person bearing that name. In the end, the semantic range of the vocabulary of these non-theophoric elements helped us delineate the descriptive function that these names may have held, ultimately highlighting one additional facet of the relationship between human and divine worlds.

# 5 Conclusion: Mapping the Relationship Between Human and Divine

Regardless of whether or not a personal name was selected due to reasons of fashion as opposed to personal piety or a family's system of belief, that personal name functioned as an onomastic sequence that served to describe the divine name with which it was paired. This chapter has demonstrated that theophoric and non-theophoric elements belonging to individuals of a diasporic community could be located in the extant corpora, meaning that the people who used these names would likely understand their meaning. Because the deities and descriptors that were chosen would have been understood, personal names had both onymic value and semantic value.

No matter their mode of selection, the personal names themselves still had meaning as onomastic sequences. The multicultural nature of the communities living in Egyptian diaspora means that cultural material – and, indeed, the number of influential

van der Toorn 2018, 152, xi 5–6.

While scholars suggest that P. Amherst 63 was composed in the Levant and later copied in Egypt, its presence in Egypt suggests contemporaneous usage of the vocabulary within. TAD C3.15:6.

deities – from which individuals might draw is expansive. Assimilation, it was demonstrated, happens in many directions in a multicultural and cosmopolitan community.

Several conclusions arise from this study. In the ancient Near East, the personal name functioned as an onomastic sequence that served to describe the deity with which it was paired. These names had semantic meaning: both theophoric and nontheophoric elements alike are extant in the text corpus and would have been understood by the bearer in this multicultural context. As onomastic sequences, personal names therefore offer a look into the relationship between human and divine worlds. The descriptions of deities revealed by onomastics offer much different depictions of deities than what appears in epigraphic, literary, or iconographic evidence. Most importantly, it was revealed that mapping people according to onomastic evidence is problematic: to assign ethnicity based solely on the appearance of a "national god" in a personal name precludes the possibility that names were adopted in order to assimilate. While this point is clear in diasporic communities, interpreters should also be careful to avoid ascribing an ethnicity to an individual based on onomastic evidence in non-diasporic communities as well.

What, then, can the descriptors say about the deities that also appeared in these names? The most vivid example of a descriptor came from an exploration of the nontheophoric element רונ . To be named ירנובנ") Nabu is my flame") is to proclaim that your deity is your source of light. Nabu, above all other deities, is your flame; he is a flame that could give splendor to the stars, and a flame in which one could trust. A name with the non-theophoric element רונ connects the human on Earth with a god above. Likewise, with a non-theophoric like בזש we might find a god who can rescue from a difficult situation, a support in a time of need. As onomastic sequences, personal names therefore offer a look into the relationship between human and divine worlds.

Alongside epithets, ancient personal names can serve as onomastic sequences that inform our understanding of the gods and goddesses of the ancient world. Personal names are themselves theological statements capable of describing humankind's perception of divine interaction in the world. When populations live alongside many vibrant cultic and temple communities, the already complex religious landscape of the ancient Near East becomes even more fluid in these multicultural communities.

# Bibliography

#### Abbreviations

GCN = Genitive Compound Name NSN = Nominal Sentence Name OWN = One Word Name VSN = Verbal Sentence Name Albertz, Rainer (1978), Persöniche Frömmigkeit und offizielle Religion, Stuttgart.


# Nathanael Andrade Christian Contexts, Non-Christian Names: Onomastic Mobility and Transmission in Late Antique Syria

Abstract: The eventual dominance of Christianity in late antiquity brought massive changes to the onomastic lexicon of the inhabitants of Syria and the Near East, most obviously in the amplified circulation of biblical names. Even so, some traditional names, including theophoric ones, traveled from polytheistic to Christian contexts and enjoyed transmission from one generation to another. Who were the main actors in the mobility and transmission of traditional names, and what patterns governed their replication? To what extent were Syrian Christians aware or concerned with the polytheist origins or features of names? My chapter explores these and related questions.

During the reign of Theodosius II (408–450), a man named Symeon decided to live on a pillar at Qalaat Semaan, located in the countryside of north Syria. By the time that he died, he was the most famous Christian ascetic in the eastern Mediterranean outside Egypt.<sup>1</sup> His example started an onomastic trend. Churches in many different places were dedicated to Symeon, and his name became overwhelmingly popular in north Syria and beyond. A copycat with his name even became a stylite outside Antioch about a century later.<sup>2</sup>

Yet, if we look to the origins of the name Symeon (or Simeon) and its attestations at Palmyra, Dura-Europos, Edessa, Hatra, and, of course, among Jews, we can appreciate its roots among polytheist populations that spoke an Aramaic dialect.3 The name, derived from the Semitic root šm' (to hear), connoted how a divinity could hear or listen to worshippers. In Genesis, a mother names her baby Symeon because the Jewish divinity had heard her prayers.<sup>4</sup> Yet, Symeon does not explicitly incorporate the name of a specific polytheist god. It was in this sense what this chapter calls an ambig-

Doran 1992 translates Symeon's main hagiographies and introduces basic facts about his life. For a key manuscript of the Syriac Life of Symeon the Stylite, see n. 5.

Critical edition is Van den Ven 1962–1970.

Yon 2018, 58.

Noth 1928, 184–85; Maraqten 1988, 220–21; Gen 29:33.

Note: Special thanks to J.-B. Yon for sharing a draft of his forthcoming work on the onomastics transitions of the late antique Near East and to Giuseppina Marano for perceptive comments. I am grateful to Corinne Bonnet and the MAP team for insightful questions and advice. I am grateful for the support of the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, the American Friends of the Humboldt Foundation, and the Cluster for Excellence in Religion and Politics, WWU-Münster.

uously or implicitly theophoric name (referencing an unnamed god or a favor received from one), not a specifically or explicitly theophoric one (incorporating a polytheist god's actual name). If late antique Christians in Syria knew its meaning, they could have construed it as pointing to Symeon's relationship with the Christian divinity, especially since he had reportedly been born into a Christian family. Yet, in earlier generations and centuries, people had associated it with the Jewish divinity or polytheistic ones.

If we turn to a late 5th century letter included in an important manuscript for the Syriac Life of Symeon the Stylite, we witness even further the potency of Symeon's example, but with a twist. The letter, written shortly after Symeon's death by a figure named Kosmas of the village Panir, credits the manuscript's writing with monks named Symeon and Bar Hatar.5 It comes as no surprise that an enthusiast of Symeon the Stylite bore the name of the famous saint. His colleague's name, however, is far less common. Bar Hatar is apparently a variation on the name attested in earlier centuries in Latin or Greek as Barhotarus, Hotaraeus, or Otarnaios. Key components of it also appear in the name Abidotaros.6 It is commonly believed to be theophoric. But the god that it celebrates is not obvious. One theory is that the name is derived from 'Atar, which could be a shortened form of the divinity Atargatis.7 Yet, the ‑h‑ is hard to explain, and venerators of Atargatis had other options; for instance, people at Palmyra preferred Barathes (son of Athes) or Abdathes (servant of Athes).8 The fact that Bar Hatar's name appears in Syriac as "brḥṭr" does invite another theory. Quite possibly, the name was derived from the Mesopotamian city of Hatra (spelled ḥṭrʾ), whose inhabitants conceived of it as an "enclosure" (ḥṭrʾ) sacred to Shamash and even described it as "the enclosure (ḥṭrʾ) of Shamash" on coins.9 If so, it would be an intriguing parallel to the name Mambogaios, whose popularity reflects the status of Hierapolis-Manbog as a pilgrimage center during the Roman imperial period.10 While these names do not specify divinities, they refer to sites well known for being sacred to Atargatis and Shamash respectively, and they functioned like explicitly theophoric names for this reason. Apparently, names rooted in traditional polytheism still circulated even while the famed 5th century Christian saint Symeon was active.

With such issues in mind, this chapter explores an intriguing phenomenon of the later Roman Near East: the use of theophoric names by Christians. As an introductory

On the late Iron Age coins that feature various forms of the divine name, see Andrade 2017.

Vat. Syr. 160, 79r-v, available digitally at https://digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS\_Vat.sir.160. Boero 2015.

Yon 2018, 95–97, who documents the name and its variations foremost from the papyri and inscriptions of Dura-Europos, along with other inscriptions from the Roman Near East.

Yon 2018, 96, with Stark 1971, 78 and 103.

Kaizer 2006, esp. 153, and 2013, esp. 67–68. I thank Ted Kaizer for discussing the name, though the responsibility for any error of judgment is mine. For catalogues of coins of Hatra with the legends, Walker 1958 and Slocum 1977. For inscriptions, Beyer 1998 and Beyer 2013.

Lightfoot 2001; Sartre 2007, 226–227.

treatment of the topic, its coverage is selective. At present, other scholars are conducting in-depth research on personal names in the Roman and later Roman Near East, which includes the forthcoming volume for the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names (LGPN) and a related edited volume.<sup>11</sup> The publications and databases that arise from such research promise to have definitive bearing on our knowledge of onomastics in the region. Meanwhile, the recent and forthcoming treatments by J.-B. Yon represent the essential studies on its personal names (including Christian contexts and theophoric continuities). My chapter owes an obvious and immeasurable debt to these studies, and I refer any reader that wishes to pursue the topic in any depth to them.<sup>12</sup> Having more meager goals, my chapter aims to provide some insights into the social logic governing the selection of personal names, especially traditional theophoric ones, after Christianity had become the dominant religion of Syria and Palestine. It comes as no surprise that the adoption of Christianity accelerated the circulation of biblical names. But what is remarkable is the persistence of some traditional names and, in some cases, explicitly theophoric ones. What governed their selection and their mobility from polytheist to Christian contexts? Were Christians aware of their meanings or the past religious contexts that had made them popular? Did Christians ever reject or militate against names because they were explicitly theophoric? And, of course, did the dominance of Christianity affect or reshape which theophoric names were popular?

In terms of chronology, this paper focuses on the years from roughly 400 to 650. It covers the period from the banning of traditional polytheism by the Roman state13 to the Arab conquest of the Roman Near East. It was within this period that the populations of the cities and rural landscapes of the region became overwhelmingly Christian.14 Within this scope, this article cannot address in exacting detail how the onomastic landscape continuously and incrementally transformed (which it did).15 It also cannot do justice to how profoundly localized onomastic patterns and their varieties were, as the differences in the naming patterns at the cemeteries at Choziba and Zoora (Ghor es-Safi) have

The forthcoming volume treating names from Palestine, Syria, and Trans-Euphratic regions is LGPN VI. The related edited volume is Yon/Kaizer/Parker forthcoming.

In particular, Yon 2018 and forthcoming (I thank J.-B. Yon for generously sharing with me his forthcoming study of Christian onomastics and theophoric names in the later Roman Near East, which promises to be the foundational article-length treatment of the topic). Independently of LGPN, an onomastic database being assembled by Giulia Grassi and Reinhard Kratz is announced here: www.unigoettingen.de/en/dfg+project%3A+a+new+edition+of+the+corpus+of+the+personal+names+in+the +greek+and+latin+inscriptions+from+syria+and+lebanon+/74199.html (seen 12.07.2023). For key works treating onomastics in the Roman/Parthian Near East, Stark 1971; Zadok 1999; Grassi 2012; Marcato 2018.

Cod.Theod. 16.10 generally.

Trombley 1993–1994 continues to be an essential work.

As observed by Feissel 2012, 7, Christian conversion did not have its full impact on onomastic patterning until the end of antiquity. It was an incremental process.

shown.16 Instead, it aims to highlight the forms of social relations and practices that had an impact on the overall decline of traditional theophoric names in later Roman Syria and Palestine, but that ensured their sporadic survival and circulation in certain instances. To this end, it will often distinguish between specifically or explicitly theophoric names (incorporating a polytheist god's actual name) and ambiguously or implicitly theophoric ones (referencing an unnamed god or a favor received from one). As we will see, names from the former category generally suffered attrition in the Christian contexts of late antiquity while those from the latter category flourished.

Above all, since this is an introductory treatment of modest size, the reader should note that it will not provide detailed references when discussing names that are very commonly attested. Normally, this will be the case when a cursory examination of the literary and epigraphic corpora easily yields more than 10–12 examples of a name, its variations, or a common root. In general references to names with gendered variations (say Theodoros and Theodora), it will refer to the male form, but the reader should note that the widespread onomastic patterns traced in this article appear to pertain to men and women alike (even if names with different gendered forms could sometimes be uniquely popular for men or women). For this study, I have consulted the major corpora of Greek, Latin, and Aramaic inscriptions for the Roman Near East and various other epigraphic publications that supplement them.<sup>17</sup> Most of these have useful indices for personal names, and a few link them with dates. Various publications pertinent to epigraphic finds have come to light after the publication of some of the older corpora (particularly the early volumes of IGLS); many are noted in L'Année Épigraphique and the Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum or recent studies devoted to onomastics.<sup>18</sup> The surviving documents for the church councils

Feissel 2012, 11–13; Yon, forthcoming. The regional onomastic landscape of Syria may have transformed during late antiquity, but the process witnessed serious local variation.

The main corpus is IGLS, which is organized by region. In general, the older volumes devoted to north Syria, Emesa, and the Bekaa valley must be heavily supplemented by subsequent publications. Those focusing on Mt. Hermon, Palmyra, south Syria, and various regions of Jordan (I.Jordanie) are more recent, though newer epigraphic finds appear elsewhere too. For Judaea and Palestine, the first four volumes of CIIP have been published over the last decade or so. Still useful are PPUAES IIIa-b, whose contents have been increasingly integrated into IGLS. I.Zoora contains the important inscriptions from the site of Zoora (Ghor es-Safi) in Jordan, near the Dead Sea, and provides a list of names accompanied by numbers of attestations and dates (pp. 32–34). I.Tyr nécropole and the discussion of personal names from the necropolis of Tyre (pp. 142–51) are also immensely helpful, as are the inscriptions from Moab (I.Moab). The inscriptions for the Christian Syrian expatriate communities included in the corpora for Concordia (I.Concordia) in Italy and Salona (I.Chr. Salona) in Dalmatia also provide useful resources. Jewish names are compiled by Ilan 2002–2012. Names at Palmyra, Dura-Europos, and Hatra, overwhelmingly preceding the 4th century, have been compiled by Stark 1971; Grassi 2012, and Marcato 2018 respectively.

An essential resource is Yon 2018, who cites the relevant publications for north Syria, Upper Mesopotamia, and Palmyra.

of the 5th and 6th centuries contain many names of Syrian bishops and clergymen,19 and the hagiographies of this period, especially those by Theodoret of Cyrrhus, Cyril of Scythopolis, and John of Ephesus, do too.20 The material mentioned here is by no means exhaustive, but it is a useful point for establishing broader patterns and exceptional examples, even if these are affected by regional and local factors too.

### 1 Names, Saints, and the Christian God

How did people in the later Roman Near East select personal names once Christianity had become a hegemonic religion of the region? We can make certain inferences based on the frequency and contexts of names. But explicit descriptions of naming processes from the sources are rare. Even so, when we turn to the corpus of John of Ephesus, the 6th century churchman and monk, we glimpse some of the social dynamics shaping the circulation and transmission of names among late antique Christians. John originated from the hinterland of Amida, in Upper Mesopotamia, and the initial sections of his Syriac hagiographic corpus are devoted to saints that populated this region. In one account, John claims that a man who struggled to conceive a child with his wife sought the intercession of a local ascetic named Maron. Maron provided support by giving the man a toenail clipping and directing him to hang it on his wife as though it were an herb. But Maron also dictated terms. When a son was born, he was to have the name Maron. In this way, the saint ensured the transmission of his own name.21

John's account hints at a social pattern that arguably had substantial impact on the transmission of personal names in late antique Syria and Upper Mesopotamia. First, we witness how naming could be shaped by the belief that the intercession of saints, or prayers to them, could confer or protect children. This pattern reflected both continuity and change from the polytheist past. In prior centuries, people had commonly called their children "son," "gift," or "servant/slave" of a divine name. In some instances, this was presumably because they believed that a god had played a role in a child's conception or survival. This same belief circulated among Jews, as passages from the Tanakh and the New Testament show. We have already encountered how a woman in Genesis named her baby Symeon because the Jewish divinity

The main corpus is ACO, supplemented by Flemming 1917. For bishops at the council of Nicaea (some spurious), Gelzer et al. 1898.

Theodoret of Cyrrhus' most significant works, including his corpus of letters, have appeared in various volumes of SC and GCS. Schor 2011, which focuses on Theodoret's social network, is helpful for collecting names of contemporary figures, especially bishops and monks. The works of Cyril of Scythopolis are published by Schwartz 1939, which includes a useful index of names. John of Ephesus' Lives of the Eastern Saints are published by E. W. Brooks in Patrologia Orientalis (PO) 17–19 (with a helpful index at 276–282 of vol. 19).

John of Ephesus, Lives in Patrologia Orientalis 17, 69–70.

had heard her. Jesus of Nazareth reportedly earned both his existence and his names Jesus and Emmanuel to divine mandate.<sup>22</sup> John the Baptizer did too.<sup>23</sup> By John of Ephesus' lifetime, Christian saints were playing this role in Syria and Upper Mesopotamia, and the host of personal names that people shared with famous Syrian saints is noticeable in the epigraphic record. As we will see, sometimes the fact that a biblical figure, saint, or martyr had borne a name could facilitate its survival or enduring circulation, even if it was a specifically theophoric one.

Second, nothing about the name "Maron" was intrinsically Christian. Derived from the Aramaic root "mr" (lord or master) and reminiscent of a long tradition of calling polytheist divinities "our lord" (mrn),<sup>24</sup> the name hinted at lofty qualities possessed by its bearer (in fact, the term "mr" was often used for saintly figures in Syriac). It may also have suggested a special relationship with a divine master or an effort to name a child after a divinity without invoking the god's name. If the name did in fact have implicitly theophoric connotations among Syrians, its reference to "lord" could also be construed as identifying the Christian god. Various names based on this root had circulated in Syria and Upper Mesopotamia for centuries,<sup>25</sup> but they and analogous Greek names (derived from kurios) were popular among Syrians in late antiquity.26 Adding to the complexity is that names with the root "mr" are classic examples of ambiguous names that could have been inspired by Aramaic, Greek (Marion), or Latin (Marinus) and were presumably popular because they were homonyms in various languages.<sup>27</sup> As we will see, in the late antique Near East, many people were opting for ambiguously theophoric names, including those widely borne by prior polytheists, over those that explicitly named a polytheistic divinity. Names derived from "mr" and kurios often circulated in explicitly Christian contexts. This is in fact a feature of late antique onomastics that is on a continuum with the traditional practice of using theophoric names while being distinct from it.

In earlier centuries, explicitly theophoric names abounded. It was common for people to bear names derived from divinities. In many cases their names bore elements connoting a special relationship with a divinity, like "son/born" (br‑ or ‑genes), "gift" (yhb‑ or zbd‑; ‑dotos or ‑doros), "slave/servant" ('bd‑), or simply the ending "‑ios" or "‑ion." It was not unusual for names to be informed by gods and goddesses commonly worshipped in an area or affiliated with prominent cult sites. Those derived

Mt 2:21–25; Lk 1:31. On the name Symeon, n. 4.

Lk 1:14.

Tubach 1986, 255–335.

Maraqten 1988, 220; Yon 2018, 58; Grassi 2010, 15–16 and Grassi 2012, 221–225.

Like Destephen 2019, 266–67, I accept that the popularity of names derived from kurios (and by extension mr) in late antiquity reflects how people commonly used them to address the Christian god (and before that, polytheist ones).

Sartre 2007 treats "ambiguous names." Grassi 2012, 221–225: Marinus (Latin for "of the sea") and Marion (a Greek personal name).

from the names of Atargatis (like Bargates/Barates), Hadad (like Barhadad), Baal-Shamin (like Barbesamen), and other deities of Near Eastern origin were popular, for example, in various parts of Syria. In terms of Greek parallels, masculine names like Diogenes, Diodoros, Apollonios, Apollodoros, Artemidoros, Athenodoros, Demetrios, Dionysios, and others were also predictably common. So were many forms of these same names that were ascribed to women.<sup>28</sup> Even so, only some names explicitly mentioned a polytheistic divinity. Others were more ambiguously theophoric. Even if they were given with a specific divinity in mind, they referred vaguely to a god (Barlaha or Theodoros, Theodotos, Theoteknos, with corresponding forms for women), a lord or master (Mariades, Mares, Mariam), or the actions that a benevolent god could confer, like listening (Symeon) or responding to a request (Silas). Likewise, the inhabitants of the Near East often gave people the names of their relatives or passed them among generations.<sup>29</sup> This means that names already in circulation often persisted through familial tradition. Because of these two factors, it is often unclear to what extent a name's semantic meaning or relationship with a divinity affected its selection.30 Why, for example, might a person have the male name Barathes/Bargates (son of Athes) or Barhadad (son of Hadad)? His parents perhaps credited the intervention of Atargatis or Hadad with his birth or otherwise held divinity in veneration. But the name could have been that of a relative, customarily transmitted among generations, or simply liked by his parents. We cannot always tell whether people even knew what a name signified, especially when syllables had been altered or dropped.<sup>31</sup> In truth, we must account for the likelihood that theophoric names sometimes honored gods, sometimes honored people, and sometimes honored general familial traditions.

John of Ephesus' account explains why a man named his child after the local saint Maron. Unfortunately, he does not clarify how this action and others like it altered the existing onomastic landscape where he lived. He does not disclose the man's name or what his wife and he would have named their child without the holy Maron's intervention. Would they have given him the name of his father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, or an uncle? Did these relatives have the names of biblical figures or other saints, or even traditional theophoric names inherited from polytheist forebears? We do not know any such information, or whether this episode happened in

Since this article is focused on late antique Syria and Palestine, it cannot treat in detail the many common specifically or ambiguously theophoric names of earlier periods discussed here. But consultation of Yon 2018, as well as Zadok 1999; Sartre 2007; Grassi 2012, and other works from n. 12 facilitate recognition of the general patterns for popular names.

Lk 1:59–61 reflects this expectation. The pattern certainly recurs in the epigraphic records of Palmyra and Dura-Europos. It is also common in Egypt. See for example the double naming strategies studied by Broux 2015, esp. 64–70. For Silas, see n. 74.

For importance of familial tradition, Sartre 2007, 224; Yon 2018, 17 and n. 85.

For theophoric names and meanings, Sartre 2007, 224–6; Andrade, forthcoming remarks on the semantic issue and discusses some evidence for knowledge of names' meanings among practitioners in Roman Syria.

the way that John reports it. What is important is how John's account represents a contemporary practice and how it could alter the onomastic landscape. By naming their children after saints, biblical figures, or apostles, parents did not merely distance their children from explicitly theophoric names that had connotated a special relationship with a polytheistic divinity. They had also redirected or even ended whatever familial or localized onomastic patterns they had inherited from their immediate ancestors, relatives, or villages.

Such factors are worth bearing in mind when analyzing names from inscriptions, church councils, church histories, and hagiographies of late antiquity. From the epigraphic record, one can point to basic trends, which all yield exceptions. In general, the circulation of explicitly theophoric names of Aramaic, Greek, and sometimes Latin origin become less pronounced in late antiquity. Instead, people increasingly bore the names of saints, martyrs, and ascetics that had become popular locally or regionally after 400 CE. As Christian holy men displaced traditional divinities as loci of veneration,<sup>32</sup> their names displaced those of traditional divinities too. The names of Symeon and Sergios, whose cults were promoted by church officials in various parts of Syria, became very popular. We have discussed the impact that Symeon had in the area of north Syria where he practiced his asceticism, but his celebrity status apparently led to cult sites for him and people named after him throughout Syria. Likewise, the bishop Alexander of Hierapolis-Manbog played a pivotal role in promoting the cult for the rider-soldier saint Sergios precisely where the goddess Atargatis long had her most prominent cult site.<sup>33</sup> The name of Sergios' saintly partner Bacchos is much more sporadic (perhaps because it was too obviously theophoric?).<sup>34</sup> The names of other saints like Kosmas (less so his partner Damian), Georgios, and Leontios became fairly popular too.35 Saints' names could be explicitly theophoric or have roots in traditional polytheism (as the examples like Dionysios and Silvanus in the final section show). But, significantly, their association with a Christian saint or biblical figure altered their connotations and affected their endurance over time.<sup>36</sup> Even though Julian was the name of a notorious pagan emperor, it was also the name of a notable ascetic in north Syria,<sup>37</sup> whose activity probably helped facilitate the name's modest continuity in the region.<sup>38</sup> In general, the association between a name and a popular saint or biblical figure apparently had a huge impact on the selection of names, whatever

For the process in Egypt, Frankfurter 1998, 2018. For the holy man in Syria and late antiquity generally, famously Brown 1971.

Fowden 1999, 60–130.

Sergios was also the name of a man that Paul converted to Christianity in Acts 13:6–12. See IGLS 546; 2033, for examples of the name Bacchos.

See I.Tyr nécropole 144–145.

I.Tyr nécropole 144–145; Yon, forthcoming, with Destephen 2019, 266 for Asia Minor.

Theodoret, HR 2,14.

IGLS 252; 733; 1490; 9365.

their origins were. As a result, the non-biblical, "non-Christian," or even explicitly theophoric names that circulated among late antique Syrians were sometimes different from those that typified Roman Syria during the 1st-3rd centuries. Also, as people increasingly bore names associated with Christian martyrs, saints, or biblical figures, traditional theophoric names dwindled overall.

Otherwise, there is also a palpable shift from theophoric names that explicitly incorporated the names of polytheist divinities to those that do not. We witness an assortment of names that praise the divine order but without specifying a god. Presumably this represents how late antique Christians were modifying the longstanding practice of using theophoric names to align with a monotheistic context. It also suggests that some Christians were avoiding names that incorporated those of polytheist divinities.<sup>39</sup> Names implying that a person had a special relationship with the divine order still abound, but without naming particular gods. Along with the very popular Theodoros/ Theodotos and their variations, these include aforementioned names like Maronas/Marinos/Kuros/Kuriakos and similar ones with a mar‑ or kur‑ root. More occasional are Barlaas/Theoteknos40 and Barapsabba ("son of the Sabbath") <sup>41</sup> and their variations. With the exception of perhaps Barapsabba, these mostly had roots in prior periods of the Roman Near East but presumably gained currency in late antiquity because they could in theory refer to the Christian god or related piety. A variation on these names, but attested primarily in late antiquity, was Barsauma ("son of the fast").42 A 6th century biography celebrates a saint with the name,43 and remarkably a 13th century Christian from China who traveled to the Middle East and Europe would bear it according to the Syriac text that celebrates him.44 These same aspects of the women's names Martha and Maria, and their links to prominent figures from the Gospels, helped them gain easy traction too.45 Traditional names that endured also happened to be those without theophoric connotations, or perhaps ambiguously so (in the case of names with "kingly" connotations). These include Malchos/Malchion (king or kingly),46 Bassos (a Latin homonym for the Arabic "cat"),47 and sometimes Bizzos (possibly "falcon").48 At late antique Zoora

Yon, forthcoming discusses such phenomena and the importance of theos-derived names.

On these names, Yon 2018, 155–56. For attestations, IGLS 84; 376; 452; 460; 690; 692; CIIP 2923.

IGLS 271–72 (saint); 374; 422; 441; Vat. Syr. 160, 6r; John of Ephesus, Lives in PO 18,658–59. See Yon, forthcoming.

Yon 2018, 51 and forthcoming; Grassi 2012, 167 on the name. IGLS 1977; perhaps 2090.

For translation of a key Syriac manuscript, Palmer 2020.

The Syriac life is in Bedjan 1895.

For Martha and Maria(m) and their variations before late antiquity, Yon 2018, 150–151, 159, 162, 174, 177–178; Grassi 2012, 222–224. The names (especially Maria) become very widespread among women in late antiquity, even as Maria(m) declined among Jews because, presumably, of its popularity among Christians. Ilan 2002–2012, 2,7.

Yon 2018, 52–59, 99–119; Grassi 2012, 217–219.

Grassi 2012, 171; Yon 2018, 66–72, 110–116; CIIP 2858; 2985; 3027.

IGLS 509; 673–674; 1412; Yon 2018, 97–98; Stark 1971, 76 (possible meaning of falcon).

in Jordan, the name Halaf or Halipha ("successor"), appearing as Alphios and Olephos, is the most dominant name, appearing over 30 times in the published inscriptions.49

If we can talk of a general regional transition in onomastics in the 5th and 6th centuries, it certainly happened with substantial local variation. The cemeteries at Choziba (Palestine) and Zoora (Jordan), both overwhelmingly populated by epitaphs with Christian symbols, have attracted much attention in this regard.<sup>50</sup> Intersecting with such local variation is the near certainty that Christian clergy and monks adopted explicitly biblical or "Christian" names with greater frequency than most other people. In Asia Minor, it is clear that clergymen and monastics consistently shifted from traditional theophoric names to overtly Christian ones over time.51 In a similar vein, the names of Syrian bishops and clergy from church council records often have a visibly Christian orientation, including names connoting piety, blamelessness, salvation, or a liturgical festival; explicitly theophoric or even traditional names are rare.52 At Choziba in Palestine, specifically theophoric names are very sporadic, and explicitly Christian names very common. This is arguably because the inscriptions there commemorate clergy and monks, who apparently adopted "John" and other biblical names upon joining (and who in many cases did not originate from the vicinity).53 If explicitly theophoric or traditional names remained much more common at Zoora, located near the Dead Sea in Jordan, it was arguably because it was populated by average Christian laity, who placed less emphasis on overly biblical or "Christian" names.54

Overall, Christians of the late antique Near East continued to favor names that suggested a connection with the divine order or the benevolence that it conferred. The key difference was that the names were often ambiguously or implicitly theophoric (referring to the divine order and its benevolence) as opposed to specifically or explicitly theophoric (incorporating the name of polytheist divinity). To some extent, Christians may have been avoiding names incorporating those of polytheist divinities and were opting for ambiguously theophoric names instead. But this does not necessarily mean the people were foremost evading traditional theophoric names due to negative perceptions of them. After all, it was conventional for Christians to refer to their divinity simply as theos/alaha or kurios/mar, and their onomastic patterns were probably motivated foremost by a positive desire to have names derived from how the Christian divinity was normally invoked, not a conscious rejection of traditional

I.Zoora, 34–36. Stark 1971, 88–89; Yon 2018, 42–44.

Feissel 2012, 11–13; Yon, forthcoming.

Destephen 2019.

The documents are ACO, with Flemming 1917. Along with the biblical names and "ambiguously theophoric" ones discussed in this article, others denoting personal piety of some sort (for example Akakios, Eusebeios, Athanasios, and Epiphanios) are recurring. For indices for Chalcedon, see ACO 2,6. The broad patterns and the exceptional traditional names are treated in various parts of Yon 2018 and forthcoming. Also, I.Tyr nécropole 142–151.

CIIP 2851–3074; Feissel 2012, 11–13; Yon, forthcoming.

I.Zoora 34–36, with works from the prior footnote.

theophoric names. Otherwise, the names of saints, apostles, and biblical figures affected the circulation of personal names, and the traditional theophoric names that did persist were often connected to these in some way. Yet, what complicates the overall picture is that some biblical names were theophoric, and this may have affected their usage and circulation. To these we now turn.

# 2 Biblical Names

Remarkably, among Christians of the late antique Near East we witness some similar patterns of selectivity regarding biblical names. Very popular are Abraham and John. The names Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, and Samuel, common among Jews throughout late antiquity, are also featured by Christians, but to a lesser extent. Intriguingly, the names John and Elijah, and seemingly Abraham, were much more popular among Christians than Jews. This suggests that Christians and Jews embraced different names of biblical heroes and that the popular Hasmonaean name Jonathan dropped from usage among Jews as Christians adopted the name John.<sup>55</sup> John as a Christian name in particular was aided by its association with both the favorite apostle of Jesus, believed to be the author of the Gospel and New Testament letters, and with John the Baptizer. Both such figures are commemorated in paintings at the monastery at Choziba in Palestine, where many men apparently assumed the name John upon joining.<sup>56</sup> Intriguingly, at Zoora, the name John was less common, with Peter and Paul being much more popular.57 While Jesus' name had a huge impact on the onomastics of Persian Christianity, it was much less influential in Roman Syria and Palestine where people apparently deemed it insolent to bear Jesus' name.58 For similar reasons, perhaps, the names of Abraham, Moses, and other "biblical heroes" were uncommon among Jews of the Second Temple Period.<sup>59</sup> But the name of Jesus' favorite apostle and his forerunner in the Gospels (John) communicated a widely embraced proximity to Jesus. Obviously, the relative fame and popularity of biblical figures in a region or locality helped deter-

Feissel 2012, 8; Ilan 2002–2012, 1,5–6; 2,6–7; 3,3–5; 4,4–7, with Yon, forthcoming, note and document the different patterns. Jews and Christians of late antiquity had generally distinct onomastic patterns, despite some overlap and a shared pool of names from the Hebrew Bible. Intriguingly, the names of the major "biblical heroes" like Abraham, Moses, and David are mostly absent from Jewish inscriptions of Palestine (though attested in the Diaspora). Instead, the names of "biblical heroes once or twice removed" like Jacob, Isaac, and Samuel were popular. For Jewish names, the main corpus is Ilan 2002–2012.

CIIP 2851–52 for paintings. Between CIIP 2853 and 3064, the name Elias (Elijah) appears at least 8 times and the name John about 30 times. See n. 53.

I.Zoora 34–36.

On Persian Christian names, Zellmann-Rohrer, forthcoming.

Ilan 2002–2012, 1,5–6, with n. 55.

mine which biblical names had broader circulation than others. Whether a name was too distinctively "Jewish" in the eyes of Christians may have had some bearing too.<sup>60</sup>

Still, a key factor in the selection of biblical Jewish names that is worth exploring, and pertinent to the present topic, may have been an awareness that certain such names were theophoric or had been given to a biblical figure through divine intervention. John the Baptizer reportedly received his name ("IHWH has shown favor") through divine mandate, and after a divine intervention that enabled his parents to conceive of child.<sup>61</sup> Abraham reportedly received an expansion on his name "Abram" ("the Father is exalted") because of the Jewish divinity's favor.62 Perhaps such factors governed the selection of these names among people who joined the clergy or monasteries<sup>63</sup> or who otherwise sought suitably Christian names for their children, especially if they had become aware of their Hebrew meanings. No doubt, names like Abraham and John called to mind the biblical figures who bore them. Their example had an impact on overall naming patterns. But in a society where theophoric names had been traditional, the fact that these names had ambiguously theophoric meanings that could be construed as celebrating the Christian divinity may sometimes have been a factor too.

### 3 Theophoric and Traditional Names in Context

In general, inscriptions give the impression that despite a palpable shift to the use of biblical names or the names for Christian saints, traditional polytheistic and even explicitly theophoric names could be borne by Christians, even those with serious ecclesiastical or ascetic credentials. In the earliest dated Syriac inscription discovered west of the Euphrates (dated 407), various men are celebrated for making a mosaic in a martyrion. Among them are an abbot named Barnaba, his successor Mares, deacons named Theodotos and Kosmas, a mosaicist Noah, and a certain John.<sup>64</sup> Barnaba is a name of some interest because of its shared roots with, or resemblance to, the Aramaic name of Barnabas or Barnabou (son of Nabu).<sup>65</sup> The older men Barnaba and Mares may have been born to polytheist parents during the mid 4th century,<sup>66</sup> which would in part explain the traditional nature of their names. Even so, it is worth noting

Along with their etymological origins, certain names landed as particularly Jewish or Greek among audiences. Williams 2007, 319–320. Similarly, for tensions involved in selecting Greek as opposed to Hebrew names under the Hasmonaeans, see Ilan 1987.

Lk 1:14; Noth 1928, 170, with Soards 2010, 1829.

Gen 17.5–6; Noth 1928, 70, 77, 145, with Carr 2010, 33.

See n. 53.

Briquel-Chatonnet/Desreumaux 2011. On this inscription, Yon 2018, 146.

On the name and its attestations, Grassi 2012, 165; Yon 2018, 146.

On this issue, Yon forthcoming.

that Barnabas is the name of a Cypriote companion of Paul in the Acts of the Apostles, which provides an etymology whose reliability remains insecure ("son of paraklesis"). Conceivably, this biblical paradigm made the theophoric name Barnaba that resembled it palatable.<sup>67</sup> The other men in the inscription have names that more reflect the onomastic patterns of late antiquity. Maron, Mares, and their variations belong to the set of ambiguously theophoric names we have already discussed. The other names (Theodotos, Kosmas, Noah, and John) were either distinctively biblical, ambiguously theophoric, or associated with a saint or Christian piety.

As noted, the general shift to "Christian" names in late antiquity was characterized by local variations, and these affected any retention of theophoric names. The distinction between the well-documented cemeteries at Choziba and Zoora is once again instructive. Not only do these reflect variations in local patterns, but they also point to differences between clergy/monastics and average Christian laity. As we have seen, John and other biblical or "Christian" names were dominant among the male monastic residents of Choziba, who may have adopted them. Otherwise, explicitly theophoric names are sporadic, though some notable ones do appear (Zenobios, Isidoros, and Silvanos, for example).68 But traditional names, including some specifically theophoric ones, were more typical of what we can presume to be an overwhelmingly Christian population at Zoora in late antiquity.69 Most popular was the Arabic name Halaf or Halipha ("successor," appearing as Alphios and Olephos),70 attested dozens of times, and Samirabbos (perhaps "heavenly master," 11 times).<sup>71</sup> The name Abdalges, which is likely a theophoric Nabataean name meaning "servant of Al-Gai," is common too (9 times). The name probably records a common way to address the god Dusares, whose theophoric name Dousarios appears several times there as well.<sup>72</sup> Also frequent was the theophoric Greek name Zenobios/Zenobia, whose recurrence can in part be explained by the local popularity of the ambiguously theophoric Aramaic names Zebinas and Zabda ("gift of"). At Palmyra in prior centuries, people with such Aramaic names were often called Zenobios/Zenobia in Greek, presumably because of the phonetic and semantic similarities. The famed Bathzabbai, immortalized as queen

Acts 4:36. See Yon 2018, 146 and forthcoming.

CIIP 2865; 2873 (Zenobios); 2928 (Silvanos); 2952–2953; 3028 (Isidoros), for example. See n. 53.

I.Zoora esp. 29–40, which compiles the frequency of the names, governs what follows. See n. 53–54. I.Zoora 29–30, 33–36. For meaning and comparisons with forms from Palmyra, see IGLS 17, 378 and 439, with Stark 1971, 88–89; Yon 2018, 42–44, 55; I.Zoora 93–94; Andrade forthcoming. For the name among Jews, Ilan 2002–2012, 1,381–383, 2,348–351. The form (H)Alphios may be a homonym for the not-so-common Greek name Alphaios, which appears sporadically in the volumes of LGPN, but its link to the Arabic for "successor" was arguably most formative.

For the semantic value, I.Zoora 107–108.

See Healey 2001, 91; Alpass 2013, 102, 153–160. For semantic values, I.Zoora 105 and 283–284. Yon forthcoming discusses the names with greater depth and integrates the material from Moab.

Zenobia, is one of many examples.<sup>73</sup> The traditional polytheistic name Silas (asked for) and its feminine version Siltha were also popular (14 times), probably because they were ambiguously theophoric and had New Testament precedents. The popularity of the name for the Greek god Silenos, a homonym of Silas, can be explained in similar terms, despite its obvious theophoric background (6 times).<sup>74</sup> As mentioned, Paul is the most frequent biblical name at Zoora, and the ambiguously theophoric names of his known companions apparently were popular too.

In general, when explicitly theophoric names for Christians appear in the epigraphic or literary record, they are the distinctive minority in a broader set that aligns overall with the increasingly dominant trends of late antiquity, as outlined in prior sections. Even so, we can note that certain explicitly theophoric names persisted in usage, if oftentimes sporadically, while the overall use of theophoric names dwindled. Among the most successful names is Azizos. This was an Arabian divinity celebrated by the emperor Julian<sup>75</sup> and whose name had previously been common among soldiers at Dura-Europos.76 The name appears in Christian inscriptions of late antiquity, especially in areas connected to the Syrian semi-desert.<sup>77</sup> This presumably reflects how Syrian/Arabian Christians over the 5th and 6th centuries were replicating a longstanding onomastic pattern. The burial of a martyr named Dionysios at Cyrrhus may have encouraged the name's survival; a notable 9th century churchman had it.<sup>78</sup> Barhadad (son of Hadad) or variations thereof appear in inscriptions or as ascribed to notable ascetics.<sup>79</sup> The Latin name Silvanus, a god worshipped among soldiers in north Syria, had been borne by many soldiers at Dura-Europos and could be found among 5th century churchmen or ascetics.<sup>80</sup> The fact that a companion of Paul had the name presumably helped its popularity.<sup>81</sup> Quite remarkably, a bishop of Maisan on the Persian gulf was martyred in the mid 4th century, and he had the traditional

IGLS 17,57; PAT 0317 for Zenobia; IGLS 17,53, 378, 428, 403, 471–472 for other examples, with Andrade forthcoming. Stark 1971 collects Palmyrene personal names (with 85–86 on meanings derived from zbd or zb'); Yon 2000 remains the key study on Palmyrene onomastics. For the name Zenobia among Jews in late antiquity, Yon 2018, 34. Theodoret knew of a Christian woman named Zenobiana (HR 3.18). For Zenobios/a and its related names in Moab and other attestations, see Yon forthcoming. Acts 15–17 generally celebrate Silas as a companion of Paul. Also see I.Chr. Salona, 767; I.Zoora, 34.

For meaning, Stark 1971, 113.

Iulian., Or. 4 (Helios), 34 (150 D).

Yon 2018, 99, 110–16.

IGLS 256; 269; 311; 1631; 1671; 2184. A Syrian at Trier had the name: IG XIV, 2558. A Christian woman at Salona, from Apamea, was Aurelia Mathaziz (probably "servant of Aziz"): I.Chr. Salona 768.

Yon forthcoming. Theodoret, HR 2.21 mentions him. See IGLS 160, for a kataphugion of saint Dionysios. For inscription apparently celebrating Dionysios of Tel-Mahre, see IGLS 58.

IGLS 2031; Theodoret, HR 27.

IGLS 67–71; CIIP 2928; Cyril of Scythopolis, Sabas 27, with 61 and 70 for a Samaritan; Vat. Syr. 160, 6r. See Yon 2018, 100–101, 112–118.

2 Cor 1:19; 1 Thess 1:1; 2 Thess 1:1.

Palmyrene name of Boliadu (gift of Bol).<sup>82</sup> A Damascene who settled and died at Salona had a father similarly named Beliabes (gift of Bel). He himself had the Greek name Palladios, derived from a name for Athena, but perhaps a recognizable homonym with Phalados, a theophoric name derived from the god Aphlad.<sup>83</sup> A Syrian couple who commissioned a Christian mosaic at late antique Aquileia in Italy had the theophoric names of Barbeousos (probably a shortened form of "son of Baal-Shamin") and Mathbe (probably a shortened form of "maidservant of Bel"). They noticeably gave their daughter the biblical name of Iohanna and their son the generic (or ambiguously theophoric?) name of Malchos (kingly).84

What explains the continuity in some such explicitly theophoric names? If late antique Christians no longer had a unique relationship with the gods after whom they were named, why would these names persist? In some cases (especially those from the late 4th and early 5th centuries), they had been presumably borne by traditional polytheists. But some people plausibly continued to honor relatives or familial traditions through naming practices even after they had become devout Christians.<sup>85</sup> By most appearances, having a traditional theophoric name did not bear explicitly negative connotations, and some Christian families replicated the traditional naming patterns of their ancestors or local surroundings, if not otherwise selecting traditional names borne by saints. Yet, amid such continuities, some Christians clearly gave more "Christian" names to children or assumed them after converting or becoming clergy or monks, as already discussed. But even then, they were not necessarily militating against the "pagan" connotations of their names; they may have been adopting names associated with biblical heroes, saintly figures, or relatives important for them. In general, late antique shifts in naming patterns reflect a positive desire to forge links with biblical or Christian figures or the Christian divinity. Yet, as we have seen, the general shift from specifically theophoric names to ambiguously theophoric ones suggests that Christians were sometimes avoiding names referring to polytheistic divinities and instead embracing those referring to a Christian divinity or lord.

In this vein, we can return to the late 5th century monk Bar Hatar. He bore a name apparently suggesting a unique relationship to the city of Hatra in north Iraq, a city whose inhabitants and surrounding populations deemed a sacred space devoted to the god Shamash. Yet, Hatra had not been a city for centuries (it had been abandoned since the Persians sacked it in 240).<sup>86</sup> A similar phenomenon can be witnessed in names derived from the cult center to Atargatis at Hierapolis-Manbog. The cult for Atargatis at Hierapolis-Manbog was presumably no longer active by this time, and at-

Nau 1912, 23–26; Kmosko 1907, 780–781 and 832; Tubach 1993; Yon 2018, 29.

I.Chr. Salona 769, with Stark 1971, 76. Yon 2018, 152 discusses Phalados. Also see Theodoret, HR 7.

Grassi 2010, 3, 6–7, and 12, citing Brusin and Zovatto 1957, 332–334, fig. 129. Also see Yon 2018, 145, 204.

Yon forthcoming reflects on the chronological factors and the influence of familial traditions.

See Dirven 2013 and various contributions therein.

testations of the name Mambogaios seem to dwindle during late antiquity. The figure named Bar Hatar associated with the Life of Symeon the Stylite is an outlier. References to this name and its variations are all earlier.<sup>87</sup> By the time that Bar Hatar lived, most people were no longer being named after sites of notable festivals for polytheist divinities. They were instead being named after Christian festivals and concepts (Athanasios or Epiphanios).88

### 4 Conclusions

We began this chapter with a discussion about Symeon and Bar Hatar, two enthusiasts of Symeon the Stylite responsible for one of the important manuscripts of his Syriac life and perhaps for his life's actual composition. One figure had the name of this saint; the other had a traditional (if mysterious) name rooted in polytheism. What do their example and others like it tell us? In later Roman Syria, the veneration of biblical figures, saints, and churchmen had a huge impact on naming practices. People were shifting from names that had traditionally circulated among their ancestors, including explicitly theophoric names invoking polytheist divinities, to those borne by Christian exemplars. These Christian exemplars could in some instances have traditional or explicitly theophoric names, but the use of their names still transformed the onomastic landscape. The popularity of ambiguously theophoric names that referred to a lord, god, or some sort of divinity suggests that people had some concerns about explicitly theophoric names. After all, ambiguously theophoric names celebrated a divinity without specifying which one it was.

Despite such shifts and tensions, some later Roman Syrian Christians were certainly known to have borne traditional names, including explicitly theophoric ones. Moreover, the epigraphic record and the late ancient hagiographical literature make it clear that persons who bore names celebrating polytheist divinities or sacred sites were interacting closely with persons who had the names of biblical figures and Christian saints. For this reason, a man named Bar Hatar worked closely with one named Symeon to celebrate Symeon the Stylite. In general, little evidence indicates that such names routinely created any sort of social tension when Christians had them, even if people preferred biblical, saintly, or implicitly theophoric names for themselves or their children. Devout Christians did not usually look askance at other Christians or doubt their religiosity simply because they had a explicitly theophoric or "un-Christian" name. This suggests that the onomastic shifts of the later Roman Near East were mostly motivated by the celebration of biblical figures, saints, and Christian virtues, not active hostility to traditional theophoric names per se. After all,

See n. 6.

I.Tyr nécropole 144.

if Christians parents decided to name their male child John, Symeon, or Epiphanios instead of using names that had long circulated among their relatives, it meant that they were not giving him traditional names like Bargates, Apollonios, or Mambogaios. Presumably, most instances in which traditional theophoric names endured can be attributed to household or local transmission and not active veneration of polytheistic divinities. Otherwise, if an explicitly theophoric name became attached to a saint or biblical figure it increased the chances for its usage as a personal name.

### Bibliography

Alpass, Peter (2013), The Religious Life of Nabataea, Leiden.


# Anna Heller Human Honours and Divine Attributes

Abstract: In the Greek world, the institution of civic honours (granted by communities to reward the actions of an individual or recognise his/her benevolent power) led to the development of a shared rhetoric of praise, giving some words a strong honorific value. Under Roman rule, this honorific vocabulary became enriched as a new form of honour emerged and expanded: honorific titles, directly attached to the individual's name and thus defining his/her social position. This paper explores the overlaps between these titles and divine onomastic attributes. Words such as euergetes, soter, ktistes, kyrios, or despotes are attested with both values, in both honorific or religious contexts, whereas some other titles seem to be completely absent from the divine sphere. The results of a personal database on honorific titles in Asia Minor are compared with the results of the MAP database to illuminate which appellations are common to humans and gods and in which contexts. In this perspective, Roman emperors (who have in many ways replaced Hellenistic kings) can appear as a sort of middle ground between the human and the divine spheres.

# Introduction

In the city of Mytilene, on the island of Lesbos, a triple dedication was set up in honour of those who made it possible for the city to recover its freedom, lost during the first mithridatic war. Probably erected under Augustus, the marble stone was engraved in three columns:1

Γναίω Πονπ[η]|ίω, Γναίω ὐΐω, | Μεγάλω, αὐτο|κράτορι, τῶ εὐ|εργέτα καὶ σώ|τηρι καὶ κτίστα. [θ]έω Δ[ίι Ἐλευθε]|ρίω Φιλοπάτριδι | Θεοφάνη τῶ σώ|τηρι καὶ εὐεργέ|τα καὶ κτίστα δευ|τέρω τᾶς πάτριδος.

Ποτάμωνι | Λεσβώνακτο[ς] | τῶ εὐεργέτα | καὶ σώτηρος | καὶ κτίστα τᾶς | πόλιος.

To Cnaeus Pompey the Great, son of Cnaeus, imperator, the benefactor and saviour and founder. To god Zeus Eleutherios Philopatris Theophanes, the saviour and benefactor and second founder of the fatherland.

To Potamon son of Lesbonax, the benefactor and saviour and founder of the city.

IG XII.2, 163 = MAP DB S#8538. I follow the date proposed by Robert 1969, which seems the most likely.

Other sources allow us to reconstruct the full story.2 Theophanes, son of Hieroitas, a citizen of Mytilene who held the office of prytanis at some point in his early career, became a close adviser of Pompey. He accompanied Pompey during his campaign against Mithridates between 66 and 63 BCE and followed him to Rome after the end of the war. In the meantime, he received Roman citizenship, took the name Cn. Pompeius Theophanes and used his friendship with the Roman general to obtain freedom for his fatherland, a privileged status which placed the city outside of the province of Asia. After the death of Pompey, another citizen played an essential role in maintaining good relations between Mytilene and Rome: Potamon, son of Lesbonax. He went on embassy several times, to Julius Caesar and to Augustus, contributing to securing a treaty between Mytilene and Rome and the confirmation of the status of free and allied city. The triple dedication refers allusively to this recent past and it is noteworthy that the memory of Pompey was not erased after the victory of Caesar. All three dedicatees are defined with the same three words: euergetes (benefactor), soter (saviour) and ktistes (founder).<sup>3</sup> These words are well documented in an honorific context as official titles awarded by civic institutions to individuals who were of great service to the community or in a position to bring protection and favour. The history of this practice goes back to Classical times but the use of such words as honorific titles, directly attached to the individual's name, developed during the Roman period, from the 1st century BCE onwards. Each of these titles has its own connotations and there is a subtle hierarchy between them.<sup>4</sup>

The small variations are interesting in the inscription from Mytilene. Pompey and Potamon are benefactors, saviours and founders (in this order), while Theophanes is styled as "saviour" first. This, along with his central position in the layout of the inscription, might suggest that he is considered to have played the main role in "saving" the city. He is also "second founder of the fatherland" instead of "founder" without further indication or "founder of the city". Such a formula refers more explicitly to the figure of the first founder, the mythological or historical ktistes of the community, to which Theophanes is compared. In addition, the word patris has a more affective flavour than the neutral polis. It echoes the epithet philopatris, which is also applied to Theophanes, but as part of his onomastic formula and not as a title added to his name and introduced by the definite article (τῶ). However, the most striking difference between Theophanes and the other two dedicatees is the fact that he is referred to as a god (theos). While Pompey and Potamon are commemorated as men, having received human honours, Theophanes has undergone a process of deification after his death. He is addressed as a "Zeus of freedom who loves his fatherland" – an ono-

On Theophanes, see Robert 1969; Salzmann 1985; Labarre 1996, 92–99. On Potamon, Parker 1991; Labarre 1996, 99–106. On both, Pawlak 2020.

On the last line, the genitive σώτηρος is a mistake and should read σώτηρι (cf. Robert 1969, 49).

For a survey of the uses of euergetes, soter and ktistes in honorific contexts from the Classical to the Roman period, see Heller 2020, 19–37.

mastic sequence which alludes to his role in securing the status of free city to his patris. Hence Eleutherios and Philopatris appear as cult epithets, whereas euergetes, soter and ktistes are used as honorific titles.<sup>5</sup> Nonetheless, philopatris is also abundantly attested as an honorific title applied to human benefactors, and Soter is a wellknown cult epithet.6 Depending on the context, the same words can be used to qualify both men and gods.

The aim of this paper is to study these overlaps in order to reflect on the interactions and cross-references between two apparently separated systems: the naming of gods and the honouring of humans. Both systems convey shared values and expectations about the role and abilities of the ones who are addressed with names or titles. A comparison may help to illuminate the representation of human and divine agency: to what extent can honorific and onomastic attributes define a common ground for the actions of gods and men towards the community? Roman emperors deserve special attention in this perspective as, in the Greek world, they could be honoured (and named) both as men and as gods. The results of a personal research on honorific titles have been compared with some results from the MAP database.<sup>7</sup> The comparison has its limits as the scope of the two investigations is not the same. My study focused on Asia Minor, while MAP is investigating the whole Greek world (leaving aside the Semitic world, beyond my competence). The Greek-speaking regions providing most of the testimonies in the MAP database are (in decreasing order) the Aegean islands, Asia Minor, Attica, Egypt, Syria and Cyprus. The chronological framework is also different: MAP is gathering divine onomastic sequences from the Archaic period until the 4th century CE, while most of the inscriptions mentioning honorific titles range from the 1st century BCE to the 3rd century CE. Despite these difficulties, it is possible to draw some conclusions. On the one hand, the wide sample from the MAP database (around 19 000 testimonies) reveals general patterns that should be relevant for Asia Minor, unless this region proves to have a very specific behaviour when it comes to naming the gods. On the other hand, two epigraphic corpuses – those of Smyrna in Ionia and Stratonikeia in Caria – have been systematically reviewed for both databases, allowing for a comparative study of divine onomastic attributes and human honorific titles in these two cities.

I will hereafter indicate the difference between cult epithets (for gods) and honorific titles (for men) by using capital letters for the former category (Philopatris, Soter) and not for the latter (philopatris, soter). However, some cases are ambiguous and both categories can blend together (cf. infra).

On saviour gods and soteria, see Jim 2022b. I thank the author for sharing the proofs of her book with me before publication.

Heller 2020, with the online database: https://www.euergetai.univ-tours.fr. The extraction from the MAP database was made on January 7th 2023.

# 1 General Approach: Discrepancies and Overlaps

For my study on honorific titles, I have reviewed nearly 30 000 inscriptions from Asia Minor. In 1637 of them,<sup>8</sup> I have found one or several honorific titles – which I have defined as a specific mode of praise discourse, summarising in one or two striking words the merits of the person honoured. When awarded to an individual (usually in return for a benefaction or a service to the community), a title works as an extension of the name and tends to become a permanent attribute. It is mentioned next to the individual's name in a variety of contexts, but honorific inscriptions (engraved on statue bases), commemorative inscriptions (engraved by an official at the end of his/ her term of office) and, to a lesser extent, dedications (of various objects to various deities) are the three types of epigraphic sources that concentrate most of the attestations. I have excluded from my database official epithets used by Hellenistic kings, such as Ptolemy Soter or Ptolemy Euergetes, which pertain to a different historical context.<sup>9</sup> The five most frequent titles in my sample are, in decreasing order, euergetes (benefactor), philosebastos (lover of the emperor), philopatris (lover of the fatherland), soter (saviour) and ktistes (founder). Together, they represent almost 50% of all occurrences of titles. Their geographical spread is not uniform. Euergetes is well documented in almost every region of Asia Minor, whereas 90% of the occurrences of philosebastos come from Ionia and 80% from Ephesos. The use of this title appears to be highly localised: expressing loyalty to the imperial regime, it has become part of the civic identity of the capital of Asia. Philopatris, soter and ktistes are more widespread but the intensity of their use varies according to the regions.

Out of these five top honorific titles, two are never (or almost never) attested as divine onomastic attributes. Philosebastos is totally absent from the MAP database. However, there is one record of philokaisar, which is also used as an honorific title, but far less frequently than philosebastos.<sup>10</sup> It comes from Koptos in Egypt: in the year 223/4 CE (under the emperor Severus Alexander), a certain M. Aelius Aurelius Dionysios, councillor of the city, who was appointed hypogymnasiarch of the god, set up a statue of "the protector of the city, Zeus Helios great Sarapis who loves Caesar" (τὸν Πολ̣ι[έα Δία Ἥλ]ιον μέγαν Σάραπ[ιν τὸν Φιλ]οκαίσαρα).<sup>11</sup> In his commentary, A. Bernand alludes to an inscription from Alexandria where Caracalla is called Philosarapis<sup>12</sup> and notes the exchange of goodwill between the imperial house and the god. Such an exchange appears however quite isolated: Philosarapis/Philoserapis is at-

Here, I consider the results of the systematic survey of epigraphic corpora and leave aside the additional results obtained for some specific titles by a keyword search on PHI.

On these dynastic titles, see Muccioli 2013. On Soter as a royal epithet, Jim 2022b, 166–213.

In my database, there are 52 records of philokaisar compared to 313 records of philosebastos (applied to individuals).

I.Portes du désert, 88 = MAP DB S#1114.

IGR I.5, 1063.

tested as a (rare) anthroponym, but in the PHI database there is no further example of an emperor thus claiming his love for Sarapis.13 Similarly, the inscription from Koptos remains a hapax and even if some parallels were to be found in the future, we can safely conclude that divine onomastic attributes only exceptionally express love for the emperor. Gods, unlike men, do not plead allegiance to the imperial regime. Nor are they styled as lovers of the fatherland: the dedication to Theophanes as Zeus Eleutherios Philopatris is the only record of this last epithet in the MAP database.<sup>14</sup> While Eleutherios is documented by 45 occurrences, all in relation with Zeus, in Attica, Egypt, Ionia and on Lesbos itself, Philopatris is again a hapax. This can be explained by the very specific and rare context of the divinisation of a local citizen, who entered the inner circle of a powerful Roman and immensely benefited his native city.<sup>15</sup> It constitutes a borderline case, as this epithet defines Theophanes' actions as a man rather than his divine nature.16

So far then, divine onomastic sequences and human honorific titles seem to follow separate paths, with only exceptional overlaps. Such overlaps are slightly more numerous, but still rare, when one examines the use of euergetes. With 357 occurrences in my sample, it is the most frequent honorific title awarded to men. It is also attested for women, in the feminine form (euergetis), but much less frequently. In the MAP database, there are only 18 instances of euergetes: it is quite an unusual attribute for gods.17 It is very sporadically used by private individuals in dedications or prayers to Sarapis, Isis, Zeus or Asclepios, mostly in the Imperial period. However, one third of the attestations come from Magnesia ad Meandrum and, in fact, derive from a single decree, quoted by five or six other cities.18 In 208 BCE, the Magnesians sent embassies all over the Greek world in search of recognition for their newly founded Panhellenic festival in honour of Artemis Leukophruene and for the sacred inviolability (asulia) of their city and territory. More than sixty decrees and letters from cities, leagues and monarchs were engraved on the walls around the agora to commemorate the positive responses to this quest. These texts often referred to the initial decree presented by the ambassadors, where it was stated, inter alia, that the new status of the festival (defined as

A search on PHI results in 15 occurrences of Philoserapis and 5 of Philosarapis, almost all used as anthroponyms.

IG XII.2, 163 = MAP DB S#8538. Cf. supra in the introduction.

On cultic honours for local benefactors, see Strubbe 2004.

Analysing this case in his study on the epicletic language of honours, Caneva 2023, 169–175, considers that Theos and Philopatris are epithets attached to the anthroponym Theophanes, whereas Eleutherios is a cult epithet attached to the theonym Zeus. I have in turn considered this complex onomastic sequence as a whole, in contrast with the sequence of honorific titles introduced by the definite article. Both interpretations are not contradictory.

Already noted by Robert 1945, 23. See also Jim 2022a, 91–93.

I.Magnesia 31, 38, 45, 52, 61, 79 = MAP DB S#9732, 9547, 10029, 8979, 10179, 10258. For the context, see Rigsby 1996, 179–279 (who is responsible for the somehow bold restoration of euergetis in I.Magnesia 79).

crowned, penteteric and isoputhios) was voted by the Magnesians "for the benefactress of the city Artemis Leukophruene" (τᾶι εὐεργέτιδι τᾶς πόλιος Ἀρτέμιδι Λευκοφρυηνᾶι) and that they were thus "expressing just gratitude towards the benefactress" (δικαίαν ἀποδιδόντες χάριν τᾶ εὐεργέτιδι). The designation of the goddess as euergetis is explicitly embedded into the reciprocal relationship between a community and its main deity, the (unspecified) benefactions of the latter leading to enhanced honours payed by the former. This conceptual framework is expressed through the language of euergetism typical of honorific decrees and the sequence "the benefactress" or "the benefactress of the city" appears as a praise discourse addressed to Artemis rather than a part of her name.

The context is quite similar in an inscription found in the sanctuary of Hecate at Lagina, on the territory of Stratonikeia.19 The end of a decree provides for the display of the list of cities, kings and dynasts who recognised the asulia of the sanctuary and the penteteric agonistic festival celebrated for "Hecate Saviour Manifest and the goddess Rome Benefactress" (Ἑκάτηι Σωτείραι Ἐπιφανεῖ καὶ Ῥώμηι θεᾶι Εὐεργέτιδι). Here, Euergetis clearly works as an onomastic attribute for the deity newly associated with Hecate. In the aftermath of the first mithridatic war, as a loyal ally who stood by Rome's side throughout the war, Stratonikeia was granted legal privileges in a senatusconsultum dated to 81 BCE. Among these privileges was the recognition of the asulia of Hecate's sanctuary. Stratonikeia gave wide publicity to this decision and sent envoys to many cities, mainly in Asia Minor and continental Greece, asking them to acknowledge the asulia, together with a festival held in honour of Hecate and Rome, probably aiming to achieve greater prestige and a much larger audience than before. The cult of the goddess Rome (θεὰ Ῥώμη) began to spread in Asia Minor after the victory of Rome against Antiochos III in 188 BCE and, more widely, after the end of the Antigonid monarchy in 167.20 At the same time, the Romans (as a people) were sometimes defined as "the common benefactors (of all / of the Greeks)" (οἱ κοινοὶ εὐεργέται): this formula, while anchoring Roman rule in the tradition of euergetism, implicitly recognises the superiority of Rome over Hellenistic kings.21 In contrast, the cult epithet Euergetis is very rarely attested in relation with Rome as a deity. In the MAP database, the inscription from Stratonikeia finds only two parallels and, in my view, they belong more to the sphere of civic honours than to that of divine names. One comes from Delos:22

Ῥώμην θεὰν εὐεργέτιν, τὸ κοινὸν Βηρυτίων Ποσειδωνιαστῶν ἐμπόρων καὶ ναυκλήρων καὶ ἐγδοχέων, εὐνοίας ἕνεκεν τῆς εἰς τὸ κοινὸν καὶ τὴν πατρίδα

I.Stratonikeia II.1, 507 = MAP DB S#6994. See Rigsby 1996, 418–423. On Hecate as one of the two main deities in Stratonikeia, see Belayche in this volume.

The seminal work is still Mellor 1975. See also Errington 1987.

See Ferrary [1988] 2014, 124–132; Erskine 1994; Heller 2020, 26–27.

I.Délos 1778 = MAP DB S#9180 (second half of the 2nd century BCE).

ἀρχιθιασιτεύοντος τὸ δεύτερον Μνασέου τοῦ Διονυσίου εὐεργέτου. [Μένανδρος] Μέλανος Ἀθηναῖος ἐποίει.

The community of Berytian devotees of Poseidon, (consisting of) tradesmen, shipowners and warehousekeepers, (has honoured) the goddess Rome benefactress, because of her goodwill towards the community and the fatherland; Mnaseas son of Dionysios, benefactor, was leader of the guild for the second time. Menandros son of Melas, Athenian, made (the statue).

This koinon is one of the numerous professional and ethnic associations that flourished on Delos from the 2nd century BCE onwards, especially after the island was declared a free port under Athenian domination by Rome's will in 167.23 Here, the members share a common origin (from Berytos-Beyrouth), a common activity (in relation with the sea trade) and a common devotion to Poseidon, ancestral deity from Berytos who, in addition, naturally protects their activity. They erected a statue of the goddess Rome, which stood in one of the chapels of their meeting place. The syntax of the text is typical of honorific inscriptions, with the nominative-accusative formula and the motivation clause, introduced by heneken and referring to eunoia (goodwill), clearly imitating the phraseology of civic honours.24 Subsequently, the epithet euergetis can be interpreted as part of the honorific discourse displayed by the koinon to express its gratitude to Rome; we could say it is circumstantial rather than essential. Indeed, another year the same koinon erected an altar to Rome and in this inscription the name is simply "Rome", in the genitive case, without any further qualification, not even the word thea.<sup>25</sup> This leads one to wonder whether the alternative choice of calling Rome euergetis has something to do with the fact that the eponymous magistrate is mentioned with the same epithet in the masculine gender. In any case, this introduces an interesting parallel between men and gods: they can both bring benefactions and, despite the gap in the scope of their respective agency and power, the same word is efficient for defining their relationship with the community. The name Mnaseas, son of Dionysios, has been restored in another inscription, where it was also followed by the epithet euergetes: he dedicated (and hence financed) a portico for the same koinon.<sup>26</sup> The merits of Rome are certainly of greater importance. The inscription refers to the goodwill of the goddess towards the fatherland of the members of the koinon, that is, Berytos. In the absence of a precise context, it is not easy to determine whether this general formula alludes to specific events or simply acknowledges the positive influence of the Roman power in the region (for instance, by fighting piracy and banditry). The goodwill towards the koinon, in turn, could have been channelled through representatives of Rome present in Delos. The association of Poseidoniastai from Berytos honoured at least two Romans: one was a resident of the island, a

See Bruneau 1970, esp. 622–630; Trümper 2006.

On the syntax and vocabulary of honorific inscriptions, see Ma 2013, esp. 15–43.

I.Délos 1779.

I.Délos 1773.

banker who lent them money under favourable conditions, thus helping them to build their clubhouse, and the other a Roman official, who may have secured them some legal privileges.27 To sum up, in this instance, the epithet euergetis applied to a deity seems closer to an honorific title used to reward both human and godly actions than to a divine onomastic attribute.

This is even clearer in the third and final instance of the sequence "goddess Rome benefactress", which comes from Assos, in the region of Troad, and is dated under Augustus or Tiberius.28 The demos and the Romans who make business in the city ([οἱ] πραγματευόμενοι Ῥω[μαῖοι]) honoured "the goddess Rome, the benefactress of the world" (θεὰ[ν Ῥώ]μην [τ]ὴν εὐεργέτιν τοῦ κόσμ[ου]). Here, the use of the definite article and the complement added to the epithet definitely point to the feminine version of an honorific title, elsewhere attested for the emperor. Since Augustus, the princeps can be hailed as benefactor of all men, of the human kind, of the kosmos or the oikoumene.<sup>29</sup> These rhetorical amplifications of the title euergetes, strictly reserved for the emperor, place him at the top of the hierarchy of human benefactors but do not imply divine status per se. In the inscription of Assos, the universal dominion of Rome is expressed through the same title applied to a deity.

These examples of overlaps between honorific titles and divine onomastic attributes remain very marginal. The same holds true when one considers the use of ktistes. During the late Hellenistic period, this word progressively replaced the older oikistes. It has a broader set of meanings: it can refer to the mythological or historical founder of a community as well as the founder of a philosophical school, a dynasty or a building. It began being used as an honorific title during the first century BCE and was then awarded to individuals whose action resulted in a symbolic re-foundation of the city.<sup>30</sup> This is the sense in which we find it in the triple dedication from Mytilene analysed above. During the Imperial period, it still rewarded achievements related to the legal status of the city, but also less spectacular benefactions (such as renovation of the gymnasium). However, it is never reduced to a mere synonym of "builder" and, on the contrary, retains a strong political meaning, suggesting a parallel with the original ktistes. It is attested for local notables as well as Roman magistrates and emperors. The alternative oikistes has not completely disappeared, but is much rarer and concentrates in Miletos, where it is lavishly used to honour the emperor Hadrian, elsewhere hailed as ktistes. In the MAP database, oikistes is totally absent, while a search for ktistes results in 25 records, 19 of which come from Cyrene. In this city, inscriptions from the 2nd to the early 4th century CE repeatedly mention the eponymous priest "of the Founder Apollo" (τοῦ κτίστου Ἀπόλλωνος). This cult epithet is already attested in a dedication to Apollo Ktistes and Artemis on behalf of the emperor

I.Délos 1520, dated to 153/2 BCE and 1782, dated ca. 90 BCE. See Ernst 2018, 386–388.

I.Assos 20 = MAP DB S#13933.

See Heller 2020, 198–199, 202–203 and Heller 2022.

On ktistes and oikistes in an honorific context, see Leschhorn 1984; Follet 1992; Pont 2007; Heller 2020.

Nero, in 57/8, and a decree from the early 1st century CE honours a citizen who, among other public services, "has received the crown of the founder of our city, Apollo" (πα̣ρ<α>λ̣α̣βών τε τὸν κτίστα τᾶς πόλιος ἁμῶν Ἀπόλλωνος σ{π}τέφ̣ ανον).31 This last, more explicit, formula strongly suggests that the simple epithet Ktistes also refers to the original act of founding the civic community, in relation with local myths. Hence this epithet, when applied to gods (rarely) and to men (more often), conveys the same ideas about origins and foundation. However, a god, as an eternal being, can be the ktistes of a community from the beginning and forever, while men honoured as ktistai are doomed to be mere replicas of the original founders.

Another testimony of ktistes in the MAP database raises the issue of the limits between human honours and divine attributes. It is a dedication from Mytilene to the emperor Hadrian, whose onomastic sequence is developed into "Imperator Trajan Hadrian Caesar Augustus Eleutherios Olumpios Founder Zeus" (Αὐτοκράτορι Τραιανῶ Ἁδριανῶ Καίσαρι Σεβαστῶ Ἐλευθερίω Ὀλυμπί<ω> Κτίστ<η> Διΐ).<sup>32</sup> In a second dedication from the same city, he is named "Imperator Caesar Trajan Hadrian Zeus Olumpios saviour and founder" (Αὐτοκράτορι Καίσαρι Τραιανῶ Ἁδριανῶ Διῒ Ὀλυμπίω σωτ [ῆ]ρι καὶ κτίστη).<sup>33</sup> This last sequence is very widely attested throughout the Greek world, with some variations. It testifies to the great popularity of Hadrian, celebrated both for his overall philhellenism and his benefactions to specific cities.<sup>34</sup> In my study, I have recorded 86 attestations of Hadrian with titles; 65 of these are dedications, giving his name in the dative case and mainly engraved on small altars. In a few instances (concentrated in Miletos), the altar is dedicated both to Hadrian and a traditional deity (namely Apollo Didumeus or Artemis Pythie). Thus, the context is clearly a religious one and the sacrifices or libations made on these altars are directed towards the emperor as a god. In half of the cases (38 out of 65), the cult epithet Olumpios (which Hadrian received in 128/9 when he undertook the completion of the Olympieion in Athens) is added to his Roman onomastic formula (in the brief form Αὐτοκράτορι Ἁδριανῷ, the developed form Αὐτοκράτορι Καίσαρι Τραιανῷ Ἁδριανῷ Σεβαστῷ or some form in between). In 18 cases, he is more explicitly named as Zeus Olumpios, but in 7 cases he is neither Zeus nor Olumpios, simply the emperor with his official Roman nomenclature. In all 65 inscriptions, I have considered the words ktistes, oikistes, soter and euergetes, used in different combinations and added to the emperor's name, to be honorific titles awarded to Hadrian as a man, the whole sequence that identifies him thus associating human and divine, onomastic and honorific attributes.<sup>35</sup> Yet closer scrutiny reveals that the line between these categories is not so clear-cut. In one inscription from Miletos, the usual sequence "Roman name-

I.Roman Cyrenaica 2020 C.229 and C.416 = MAP DB S#3622 and 3653.

IG XII.2, 183 (with a correction to the first edition which reads Ὀλυμπιοκτίστω) = MAP DB S#8543.

IG XII.2, 184 = MAP DB S#8544.

On Hadrian as saviour and founder, see Benjamin 1963; Pont 2007; Heller 2022.

Same interpretation in MAP DB S#8544, where only Olumpios is registered as a cult epithet.

divine name-honorific titles" is somehow disturbed, as Hadrian's Roman name is followed by the sequence "saviour Olumpios founder" (σωτῆρι Ὀλυμπίωι οἰκιστῇ): here, cult epithet and honorific titles mingle and seem equivalent.<sup>36</sup> In two other inscriptions from Lycia, Olumpios comes last, after the Roman nomenclature and the sequence "saviour and founder" (σωτῆρι καὶ κτίστῃ), while in Aphrodisias, the formula "to Hadrian Saviour Zeus Olumpios" (Ἁδριανῷ Σωτῆρι Διὶ [Ὀ]λυμπίῳ) makes it very difficult to determine whether soter is used with an honorific or religious value.<sup>37</sup> The two connotations (soter as honorific title and Soter as cult epithet) most probably simultaneously came to mind when reading these inscriptions.

Indeed, the word soter is the only one that really stands at the crossroads between human honours and divine attributes, being widely attested in both contexts. The scholarly tradition has discussed whether this epithet always implies a divine status. I think my study has demonstrated that the old opinion of Arthur Darby Nock was right, namely that this word can be applied to men independently of any divinisation process.<sup>38</sup> In the context of civic honours, it expresses the gratitude of the community for exceptional actions that saved it from a danger or a difficult situation. During the mithridatic and civil wars, it is attested both for Roman imperatores who offered protection in these troubled times (like Pompey did for Mytilene) and for citizens who acted as mediators between their fatherland and the Roman power (like Theophanes and Potamon). Under the Empire, it becomes very rare for local notables and is used to honour Roman governors or emperors almost exclusively. When it is possible to reconstruct the motives lying behind the title, they often appear to be related with help in various crisis situations (earthquake, shortage in food supply, foreign attacks . . . ). But sometimes the title soter also seems to reward a general attitude, exceptionally benevolent to the Greeks, as in the case of Hadrian. One characteristic feature of this title, which my study has established, is that it is never awarded to women. In some very isolated cases, a couple can be honoured as soteres in the plural form, but the feminine form soteira is never used in an honorific context, whereas euergetis, philopatris and even (very rarely) ktistria are all attested for women. The ability to save the community is only recognised in male individuals.39

In this regard, there is a strong difference between human and divine societies. In the MAP database, out of 440 records of the attribute Soter/Soteira, 62% concern mascu-

Nock [1951] 1972, followed by Jim 2022b, 44, 202–203, 212–213. Contra Habicht 1972, 96–97.

I.Milet 3, 1335.

TAM II, 410–411; I.Aphrodisias 2007, 8.708. In my sample I have rejected another occurrence (I.Muz. Iznik I, 32) where the sequence is "to Hadrian Zeus Saviour Olumpios" (Ἁδριανῷ Διὶ Σωτῆρι Ὀλυμπίῳ), considering that Soter was here a cult epithet and not an honorific title, but in fact all these variations are very close and play with the polysemy of the word. The editor's interpretation is implicitly indicated by the choice of writing soter or Soter (the capital letter being reserved for cult epithets).

Heller 2020, 228–234. In very rare instances, a woman is called soteira in a funerary context, but this private and often poetic use alludes to a healing or priestly activity, not to an official title awarded

line deities only, mainly Zeus, but also Asclepios, the Dioscuri, Apollo, Sarapis, Poseidon, etc. In 22% of cases, the epithet is applied only to feminine deities, most often Artemis, but also Hecate, Isis, Athena, Kore, Hygeia, etc. In 10% of cases, a masculine and a feminine deity appear together in an onomastic sequence, both named as "saviours", either independently (Soter and Soteira) or together (Soteres).40 These joint sequences above all concern Zeus and Athena, less frequently Sarapis and Isis. It is noteworthy that (in the current state of the database) Zeus Soter is always named before Athena Soteira. Although divine feminine agency may be subordinated to divine male agency, it is nevertheless acknowledged in the religious search for salvation.

A similar discrepancy between gender-oriented honorific titles and a more flexible use of the same words as cult epithets can be observed with despotes. As a title, it is exclusively attested for emperors, who are honoured as "master of land and sea" or "master of the world" (τὸν γῆς καὶ θαλάσσης / τῆς οἰκουμένης δεσπότην).41 The feminine form "mistress of the world" (δέσποινα τῆς οἰκουμένης) is extremely rare before the 4th century CE. In the MAP database, the records of the epithet Despotes/Despoina are almost equally distributed among gods (23 attestations) and goddesses (24), while two appear in the plural form without any further indication of the identity of the deities named. The alternative word kurios, also attested as a title for emperors, albeit rarely, is in turn much more frequent than despotes as a divine attribute. I have not systematically studied the 415 records, but a brief survey reveals that the feminine Kuria is well documented, especially for Isis, but also Artemis, Athena, Atargatis, Aphrodite, Nemesis . . . Might and lordship are thus qualities that can either be masculine or feminine in the divine sphere, whereas in the humane sphere and in the context of civic honours they are confined to the most powerful man of the world – the emperor. In contrast, a typically feminine honorific epithet such as semne also appears to be mostly (but not exclusively) applied to feminine deities (21 instances out of 28 records of the word in the MAP database).

These observations provide for a general comparison between cult epithets and honorific titles. But are they still valid when adopting a local approach, comparing both systems in a given city?

by civic institutions. It is noteworthy that Soteira is also attested as an anthroponym (43 records in the LGPN online for 90 of Soter) but here, again, it reflects private practices and not public decisions.

In another 6% of cases, the generic plural Soteres does not allow us to determine the gender of the deities named. For a detailed study of the identity of saviour gods and the chronological and geographical spread of this cult epithet, see Jim 2022b, 118–165.

On the chronology and connotations of this title, see Heller 2022.

# 2 Local Approach: Smyrna and Stratonikeia

The two corpuses examined in this perspective are those of Smyrna and Stratonikeia, published in the series of Inschriften aus griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien. They have been systematically surveyed for both databases (on honorific titles and on cult epithets). Although the total number of inscriptions is similar (928 in I.Smyrna and 1098 in I.Stratonikeia), the nature of the evidence varies notably. In Smyrna, more than 70% of the published inscriptions from the Hellenistic and the Imperial periods are funerary texts, whereas in Stratonikeia epitaphs represent only 19% of the total. In this last corpus, the most numerous types of inscriptions are commemorative ones (37% of the total, while these are totally absent in Smyrna) and dedications (22% compared to 7% in Smyrna).<sup>42</sup> This is mainly due to the different areas excavated: in Smyrna, the urban centre is poorly documented, unlike the nekropoleis, while in Stratonikeia, a very rich epigraphic documentation has been discovered in the sanctuaries of Hecate at Lagina and Zeus at Panamara. It is therefore not surprising that, in the MAP database, Stratonikeia is better represented than Smyrna, with 300 testimonies compared to 91. The gap is even bigger in my database, which records 100 attestations of individuals with honorific titles in Stratonikeia, but only 23 in Smyrna.

It is all the more interesting to observe that in Stratonikeia, despite the wealth of the documentation, human honours and divine attributes go very separate ways. The two most frequent titles are "son/daughter of the city" (υἱὸς/θυγάτηρ τῆς πόλεως) and philopatris, both expressing devotion to the fatherland. They are often displayed together, in a sequence of three titles also including philokaisar or philosebastos – which are respectively the third and fourth best documented titles in this city. These four titles are mainly attested for priests and priestesses from Panamara and Lagina (who are thus thanked for the lavish benefactions they offered to the community43), but are never used as cult epithets. In Stratonikeia, Zeus and Hecate constitute a unique pair of predominant deities in a civic pantheon.<sup>44</sup> Zeus Chrysaoreios/Chrysaoreus and Zeus Karios, both attested in the Hellenistic period, are overshadowed in the Imperial period by Zeus Panamaros/Panemeros, a name that appeared in the context of the civil wars of the late 1st century BCE. This last divine onomastic sequence is by far the most frequent in Stratonikeia and is sometimes expanded into "the greatest and most manifest Zeus Panamaros" (ὁ μέγιστος καὶ ἐπιφανέστατος Ζεὺς Πανάμαρος). Hecate is also named "the greatest and most manifest goddess Hecate" (ἡ μεγίστη καὶ ἐπιφανεστάτη θεὰ Ἑκάτη) or a variation of this sequence. Alternatively, she can be designated as "Hecate Saviour" or "Hecate Saviour Manifest" (Ἑκάτη Σωτείρα / Ἑκάτη Σωτείρα Ἐπιφανής).

For these percentages, cf. appendix I.1 in Heller 2020, 271, also available on www.euergetai.univtours.fr/ressources (« Analyse des corpus dépouillés »). I did not take into account inscriptions later than the 3rd century CE.

See Williamson 2013.

See Belayche in this volume.

The cult epithet Soteira is recorded nine times in relation with Hecate (in inscriptions from the late Hellenistic and the Imperial periods), while the masculine Soter is only attested twice, for "Zeus Saviour and Karios" and for "the god Saviour Asclepios" (Imperial period). In an honorific context, there are three attestations of the title soter, two of which concern Roman magistrates from the late Republic and early Augustan age, who are also patrons of the city. The third soter could be either a Roman magistrate or a local ambassador, the fragmentary state of the inscription not allowing for certainty.45 Therefore, the discrepancy observed on a global scale is also confirmed on a local scale: the honorific title soter is only masculine, while a goddess can be repeatedly defined as Soteira. Yet despite the fact that male representatives of Rome are honoured as soteres in Stratonikeia, Rome as a deity is not called Soteira, but rather Euergetis, in the one instance analysed above. Euergetes is also used as an honorific title, but scarcely (7 records) and never in the feminine form. From the perspective I have adopted, there is definitely no proximity between men and gods in Stratonikeia.

At first glance, the situation is quite similar in Smyrna: the best-documented cult epithets have nothing in common with the honorific vocabulary. The "Mother of gods Sipylene" (Μητρὶ θεῶν Σιπυληνῇ) is the most frequent divine onomastic sequence, mostly mentioned in funerary texts as the deity to which the fine shall be paid if anyone appropriates the grave illegally. These inscriptions all date from the Imperial period, as do those mentioning "Briseus Dionysos", whereas records of "Aphrodite Stratonikis" concentrate in the 3rd century BCE. The cult epithet Megas is used a few times in relation with Dionysos, Demeter or the Nemeseis, but it is not attested in an honorific context as a laudatory term qualifying a deserving citizen. Agathos, in turn, is attested once in such a context, in a brief honorific inscription where the demos honours Dionysios, son of Dionysios, "who is a good man towards the community and a benefactor of the people" (ἄνδρα ἀγαθὸν ὄντα περὶ τὴν πολιτείαν καὶ εὐεργέτην τοῦ δήμου).46 The same epithet is recorded four times in divine onomastic sequences, for Agathe Tyche and Agathos Daimon – but there is hardly any parallel to draw between these religious usages and the honorific formula agathos aner, which is quite frequent for local benefactors.

The only epithet which can appear, in some way, to be common to both gods and men in Smyrna is soter. In my database, I have recorded 6 attestations of the word. One is quite uncertain, as it relies on a restoration: a decree of the koinon of Asia mentions the high-priest and agonothete "of the goddess Rome and the god Augustus Caesar Zeus Patroos imperator and pontifex maximus, pater patriae and saviour (?) of the whole human race" (θεᾶς Ῥώμης καὶ θεοῦ [Σεβαστοῦ Καίσαρος] Διὸς Πατρῴου αὐτοκ[ράτορος καὶ ἀρχιερέως] μεγίστου, πατρὸς τῆ[ς πατρίδος καὶ σωτῆρος?] τοῦ σύμ-

I.Stratonikeia II.1, 509; II.2, 1321; III, 1520.

I.Smyrna II, 616. This inscription has no date in the corpus, but the sober phraseology suggests the late Hellenistic period.

παντος ἀνθ̣[ρώπων γένους]).<sup>47</sup> This kind of rhetorical amplification is typical of the civic honorific discourse on emperors, but it can be developed using other words than soter, which is just a possibility here.<sup>48</sup> This epithet is, in turn, attested with certainty for Hadrian, who is honoured by "the mustai of the great Briseus Dionysos pro poleos" as "Imperator Trajan Hadrian Caesar Augustus Olumpios, saviour and founder" (Αὐτοκράτορα Τραιανὸν Ἁδριανὸν Καίσαρα Σεβαστὸν Ὀλύμπιον, σωτῆρα καὶ κτίστην). Three dedications engraved on altars give the shorter version "to the emperor Hadrian Olumpios saviour and founder" (Αὐτοκράτορι Ἁδριανῶι Ὀλυμπίωι σωτῆρι καί κτίστηι).<sup>49</sup> As I have argued above, in my view, the meaning of the sequence "saviour and founder" is mostly honorific, but soter might nevertheless have a religious flavour which gains strength when used next to Olumpios. In the MAP database, there are three records of Soter in Smyrna. One very fragmentary dedication might be addressed to "Zeus Soter and Athena" ([Διὶ Σωτῆ]ρι καὶ Ἀθην̣[ᾷ – ]) but again the restoration is not certain here.50 Another dedication in elegiacs, dated to the late Hellenistic period, applies the epithet to Asclepios:<sup>51</sup>

[σ]ωτῆρ' ἀνθρώπων Ἀσ[κληπιόν, ὦ ἑκάεργε,] [σοὶ] φ̣ ρενὸς ἐξ ἰδίης γράμ̣[μα τόδ' εὑράμενος] Π̣λ̣ειστάρχου Δοκιμεὺς Ἀσκληπιάδης ἀνέ̣[θηκε] πατρὶ τέκος, Παιὰν ὡς ἐκέλευσεν ἄναξ. ἱ̣λήκοις, ὦ Φοῖβε, σὺν υἱέϊ, τῷ δ' ὑγίειαν δοίηθ' ὑμετέρην ὑμνολογοῦντι χάριν.

The saviour of men, Asclepios, it is to you, who pushes away harm, that Asklepiades son of Pleistarchos from Dokimeion, having composed this epigram, has consecrated him, a son to his father, as the lord Paian has ordered. Have mercy, Phoibos, with your son, and give health as a token of your gratitude to the one who sings this hymn.

A citizen from Dokimeion consecrated a statue of Asclepios to his father Apollo, asking both deities to grant him good health. He obeyed an order, probably given in a dream, by Apollo himself – or by Asclepios, as both are attested with the epithet Paian/Paieon/Paion. It is noteworthy that the name of the human agent (Asklepiades) is related to the name of the god (Asclepios): it could imply a special devotion to Asclepios running in the family. Anyway, he calls Asclepios "saviour of men", a formula that sounds like a praise discourse rather than a cult epithet. It seems to be a poetic and developed version of the onomastic sequence "Asclepios Saviour" which is at-

I.Smyrna II, 591.

In two other records (I.Ephesos VII.2, 3801 II and 3825), the same amplification is directly connected to the Roman title pater patriae, Augustus being presented as "father of the fatherland and of the whole human race" (πατρὸς τῆς πατρίδος καὶ τοῦ σύμπαντος τῶν ἀνθρώπων γένους).

I.Smyrna II, 622–625.

I.Smyrna II, 738 = DB MAP S#5277.

I.Smyrna II, 750 = DB MAP S#5473. For the date and a brief comment, see Robert 1980, 242–244.

tested elsewhere but not in Smyrna. Here, the kind of salvation brought by Asclepios is explicitly stated: health, preventing from disease and death.52

The same connotations are attached to the third and last instance of Soter recorded for Smyrna in the MAP database, which happens to be the sixth attestation in my database. It is also presented as a hymn in honour of a god:<sup>53</sup>

ὑμνῶ θεὸν | Μέλητα ποταμόν, | τὸν σωτῆρά μου, | παντὸς δὲ λοιμοῦ | καὶ κακοῦ | πεπαυμένου.

I sing the god river Meles, my saviour, as all plague and evil has ceased.

The context for this inscription is most probably the Antonine plague, which affected the whole Roman Empire under the reign of Marcus Aurelius and caused great human and economic damage.<sup>54</sup> It has been suggested that the author of this dedication might be Aelius Aristides himself, who is known to have survived the epidemic. It could also be an ordinary citizen giving thanks for having recovered from or escaped the disease. The thanks are addressed to a local god-river, sometimes represented on the coins of Smyrna.55 The dedicator calls him "my saviour", a formula which I have interpreted as a private appropriation of the official honorific title "saviour". Such private uses of words attested as titles (mainly euergetes but also, more sporadically, soter, despotes and kurios) are documented in the Imperial period; they developed later than the public uses of the same words.56 They establish a personal and hierarchical relationship between two individuals, one expressing their gratitude and loyalty to the other by calling them "their benefactor", "their saviour", "their lord". I have recorded such instances in my database, labelling them "private titles" as they interplay with the honorific connotations of these words and their official use by civic authorities.57 Nonetheless, when applied to a god, as in the epigram quoted above, the personal link established by the word soter can also be interpreted as a variation of its use as a cult epithet. Here, again, the religious and honorific meanings of the word seem to overlap and were probably both present in the mind of the dedicator, even if his prior concern was for salvation as a divine prerogative.

On salvation as healing and preservation of health, see Jim 2022b, 100–106.

I.Smyrna II, 766 = DB MAP S#5700.

On the Antonine plague (the impact of which has been much discussed), see Kirbihler 2006, 621–625, with previous bibliography.

See RPC IV.2, 324 (under Commodus).

See Heller 2020, 74–82 and 151–154.

The interplay is particularly clear in an inscription from Patara in Lycia, where Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus are honoured by a local family of senatorial rank and are each called "saviour and benefactor of their whole house/of their whole lineage and house" (TAM II, 419, with my comment in Heller 2020, 79–80).

# 3 Conclusions

This investigation on the overlaps between divine onomastic sequences and honorific titles awarded to men proves to be rather disappointing: the overlaps are in fact very limited and most epithets used as titles are either never or very rarely used to name the gods. The qualities attributed to exemplary citizens – love for the fatherland (expressed through the title philopatris, but also "son/daughter of the city"), love for the emperor (philosebastos, philokaisar), piety (eusebes), good character and virtue (agathos aner, kalos kai agathos, enaretos, panaretos), noble ambition (philotimos, philodoxos), noble birth (eugenes), etc. – are completely or almost completely absent from the divine sphere. From this perspective, human agency and divine agency, as characterised by titles and names, clearly operate on different levels. In rare instances, a deity can be called Euergetes/Euergetis: this cult epithet then refers more or less explicitly to the honorific civic discourse. Defining gods as benefactors can be seen as a transfer of human vocabulary into the divine society.

Only two words have emerged as common to both fields: soter and (to a much lesser extent) ktistes. They convey similar ideas when naming gods and honouring men: a "saviour" offers great protection while a "founder" presides over the birth or re-birth of the community. But their use as divine attributes and honorific titles are usually clearly separated. In the context of civic honours, these words have undergone a process of secularisation and a man can be honoured as founder or saviour without being equated with a god. In this regard, emperors are a special case: the epithets soter and ktistes can be applied to them both as men and as gods, and hence have a double meaning, honorific and religious. Yet the major difference observed between the uses of soter in the divine and human spheres remains true: no woman is ever called soteira, even when she belongs to the imperial house, while this feminine form is well attested for goddesses. Similarly, before the end of the 3rd century CE, the titles despotes and kurios are only used for emperors, in the masculine gender, whereas the divine onomastic attribute Kuria is quite frequent. This is consistent with the conclusions of my study on honorific titles: the most common epithets applied to women in the context of civic honours praise their conformity with the ideal of feminine virtues (sophron, semne, philandros, philoteknos). In comparison, divine agency seems much better distributed among the sexes, as the power to save, protect and rule is recognised in both female and male deities. In this regard, it turns out that the striking formula of Nicole Loraux ("a goddess is not a woman") is completely relevant. In other words, divine status prevails over gender, or the very category of gender is construed differently in human and divine societies.<sup>58</sup>

See Loraux 1991; Pironti 2013; Bonnet/Galoppin/Grand-Clément 2021.

### Bibliography

Benjamin, Anna (1963), "The altars of Hadrian in Athens and Hadrian's Panhellenic program," in: Hesperia 32, 57–95.

Bonnet, Corinne / Galoppin, Thomas / Grand-Clément, Adeline (2021), "Que fait le genre aux dénominations divines, entre mondes grecs et sémitiques ?" in: Archimède: archéologie et histoire ancienne 8, 1–16.


Erskine, Andrew (1994), "The Romans as common benefactors," in: Historia 43, 70–87.


Pironti, Gabriela (2013), "Des dieux et des déesses : le genre en question dans la représentation du divin en Grèce ancienne", in: Sandra Boehringer / Violaine Sebillotte Cuchet (eds.), Des femmes en action.

L'individu et la fonction en Grèce ancienne (Mètis Hors Série), 155–167.

Pont, Anne-Valérie (2007), "L'empereur 'fondateur': enquête sur les motifs de la reconnaissance civique", in: Revue des Études Grecques 120, 526–552.

Rigsby, Kent (1996), Asylia. Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World, Berkeley / Los Angeles / London. Robert, Louis (1945), Le sanctuaire de Sinuri près de Mylasa. Première partie : les inscriptions grecques, Paris.

Robert, Louis (1969), "Théophane de Mytilène à Constantinople", in: Comptes rendus des séances de l'Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 1969, 42–64 (= Choix d'écrits, Paris, 2007, 603–621).

Robert, Louis (1980), À travers l'Asie Mineure : poètes et prosateurs, monnaies grecques, voyageurs et géographie, Paris.

Salzmann, Dieter (1985), "Cn. Pompeius Theophanes. Ein Benennungsvorschlag zu einem Porträt in Mytilene", in: Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. Römische Abteilung, 92, 245–260.

Strubbe, J.H.M. (2004), "Cultic Honours for Benefactors in the Cities of Asia Minor", in: Luuk de Ligt / Emily Hemelrijk / H.W. Singer (eds.), Roman Rule and Civic Life: Local and Regional Perspectives (Impact of Empire 4), Leiden, 315–330.

Trümper, Monika (2006), "Negotiating Religious and Ethnic Identity: the Case of Clubhouses in Late Hellenistic Delos", in: Hephaistos 24, 113–140.

Williamson, Christina (2013), "Civic Producers at Stratonikeia. The Priesthoods of Hekate at Lagina and Zeus at Panamara", in: Marietta Horster / Anja Klöckner (eds.), Cities and Priests. Cult personnel in Asia Minor and the Aegean Islands from the Hellenistic to the Imperial period, Berlin / Boston, 209–245.

# Emiliano R. Urciuoli and Richard Gordon Call Me by God's Name. Onomaturgy in Three Early Christian Texts

Abstract: Why, in the English-speaking world, is nobody is given the name "Jesus" while in Spain and Latin America this theophoric name is quite popular? Any confessional argument is ultimately insufficient and unsatisfying and therefore the quandary remains unsettled. And what of theophoric names in early Christ religion? How did early Christian writers who adopted theophoric names for themselves, or employed them for others, navigate the fine line between misuse and honor, religious qualm and religious tribute? Did they navigate it at all? In his two-volume work, the writer known as Luke calls his Christ-believing addressee "Theophilos"; the real or putative Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, nicknames himself "Theophoros"; the anonymous author of the small tract To Diognetus probably invented the designation to formally address a prospective non-Christian audience. Are such names ("beloved of god"; "sprung from Zeus") merely hackneyed commonplaces? Or do such practices bestow "peer/gentlemanly honor" (Appiah 2010) as a manly quality shared by both sender and recipient? Or, as the meta-theophoric "bearer of God" seems to suggest, are theonyms used to rank positions and claim religious prestige? Focusing on three early Christian texts, the paper will try to work its way through these intriguing questions.

# 1 Abusing a Name or Honouring a God?

One might wonder why, in the English-speaking world, nobody is given the name "Jesus" while in Spain and Latin America this theophoric name1 is quite popular. Googling the question, we came across a short post on an American website for Catholic parents that offers this sensible explanation:

The modern expression "theophoric names" is derived from the Peripatetic Clearchus of Soli, who distinguished between ἄθεα ὀνόματα and ὀ. θεοφόρα (fr. 86 Wehrli 1969, 32, from Athenaeus, Deipn. 10.69, 448e). Yet this seems to be a deliberate device to extend the sense of the ordinary word θεόφορος by transferring the pitch from proparoxytone to paroxytone, modelled on words such as πυρφόρος, νικηφόρος, κοπροφόρος, σκευοφόρος (taken at random from Xenophon), just as ἄθεος never ordinarily means "lacking reference to a divine name" but normally implies a strongly negative moral judgment.

Note: Chap.1 and 2.1, i.e., pp. 569-574, are to be attributed to Emiliano R. Urciuoli, chap. 2.2, 2.3 and 3, i.e. pp. 574-580, to Richard Gordon.

In observation of the commandment against misusing God's name, English and American Protestants have historically taken a more conservative view on religious names [. . .] For many Catholics from Spanish and Portuguese cultures, on the other hand, naming a child is considered a way to honour God rather than a violation of a commandment.2

The confessional argument, however, does not apply to Italy, a traditionally Catholic country where countless children are named after a saint and yet Jesus is not used as a given name. Honouring the son of God by naming a newborn male after him and thus putting this latter under the former's protection seems to be a taboo. In fact, no law seems to forbid it: Italians just do not do it. The quandary remains unsolved.

This national exception to a world-wide Catholic praxis suggests us the topic of this chapter. How did early Christian writers who adopted theophoric names for themselves or employed them for others navigate the line between misuse and honour, religious scruple, and religious tribute? Did they indeed navigate it at all? In this short contribution, we limit ourselves to a discussion of three intriguing cases dated to the end of the 1st century and the long 2nd century CE: on two occasions, the writer known as Luke calls the explicit addressee of his two-volume work "Theophilus"; the real or putative Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, nicknames himself "Theophórus"; the anonymous author of the brief tract To Diognetus may well give himself this designation so as to address a perceptive audience more elegantly. Is dubbing somebody vaguely "Beloved of God" (Theophilos) or "Zeus-born" (Diognetos) just a dull semiotic practice for signalling and activating a "reading event"? <sup>3</sup> Or perhaps a witty Christian appropriation of their semantic potential for playful uses in puns and riddles at symposia?4 Or are such devices a shorthand expedient for showing "peer/gentlemanly honour" as a manly quality shared by both sender and recipient?<sup>5</sup> Yet again, might theonyms rather be used to rank positions and claim religious prestige before listening-and-reading publics, as the sobriquet "God-carrying" (Theophóros) regularly claimed by Ignatius seems to suggest?

Without pretending to offer a passe-partout answer that applies to all three cases, this chapter will work through such questions and in doing so offer a slightly new take on such naming strategies, which deliberately ignore the syntactic aspect of lan-

https://www.catholicmom.com/articles/2018/04/18/why-isnt-jesus-used-as-a-given-name-in-english/ (seen 12.07.2023).

For this quite self-explanatory notion, see Johnson 2000. For its expansion, see Keith 2020.

See Parker 2000, 53.

"In an honour world, some people are defined as your honour peers, because the codes make the same demands of you as of them" (Appiah 2010, 88). Appiah also explains how "gentlemanly honour", understood as the kind of honour owed to peers above a certain social standing, encompasses and overcomes social hierarchies: "the respect that gentlemen were supposed to show each other in eighteenth-and early nineteenth-century England was just such respect among equals, grounded not in esteem but in recognition. You owed the same courtesy to one gentleman as you owed to all the others. Provided you were of the right social standing, the respect to which you were entitled as a gentleman, your gentlemanly honour, was no greater whether you were a magnificent military success, like the Duke of Wellington, or an ordinary country squire" (Appiah 2010, 16).

guage in favour of an exclusive attention to semantics.<sup>6</sup> We end up by suggesting the possible value in this context of the word "onomaturgy", which is entered neither in the Oxford English Dictionary nor in Merriam-Webster, but represents a straightforward anglicisation of the late Greek word ὀνοματουργία, "production of names", <sup>7</sup> albeit with a slight twist on Cratylus' claim in Plato's homonymous dialogue – which may go back to Pythagoras<sup>8</sup> – that "there is a fitness to names" (εἶναι ὀρθότητα ὀνομάτων).<sup>9</sup>

# 2 The Beloved of God, The God-Carrying, and the Zeus-Born

#### 2.1 The Beloved of God

First, we will briefly sketch out the context and summarize the scholarly discussion relating to our four cases.10 We will follow a chronological order assuming that, whatever the 1st or 2nd century origin of Luke-Gospel and Acts, these canonized scripts are likely to predate the earliest extant collection of the Ignatian corpus and the composition of To Diognetus – according to the most persuasive dating options of both.11

Cf. Genette 1976, 16–17: as if nom propre meant nom proprement dit.

The sole surviving occurrence of the abstract noun ὀνοματουργία is in Proclus, in Crat. §88 Pasquali, in the context of Socrates' discussion of the essential appropriateness of proper names in Homer (Pl., Crat. 391d-393d). Plato coined the agentive ὀνοματουργός (Crat. 388e-89a) to denote the Lawgiver's role in assigning "true, natural" names (φύσει τέ τινα ὀρθότητα ἔχον εἶναι τὸ ὄνομα: 391b8). The ancient debate was fatally conditioned by the ambiguity of ὄνομα between "personal name/person" and "noun". On Socrates' ambivalent position in Cratylus between linguistic conventionalism and so-called naturalism, see still Genette 1976, 11–37.

The 5th century atomist philosopher Democritus is cited by Proclus as ascribing the ultimate source of Cratylus' claim to Pythagoras (Procl., in Cra. §16 Pasquali); see further Salem 1996, 283–286.

Plato Crat. 427d. See also Socrates' claim that personal names ought to reflect the moral character of their bearer (394d-396c). In this passage, he actually cites the name Theophilos as an example of one inappropriate to a miscreant person (394e).

We have adopted the following general principles regarding proper names of persons of whatever ontological status: 1) Standard English forms where they exist, e.g. Luke, Joseph, Plato, Philo, Plutarch; 2) Latinate forms for other ancient authors (e.g. Clearchus, Democritus, Ignatius, Josephus) and the names of Roman officials (Claudius Diognetus); 3) Latinate forms for persons with Greek names in Christian texts where these are most familiar (Theophilus, Diognetus); 4) Latinate forms for persons with Greek cognomina resident in Rome (Epaphroditus); 5) Greek forms for residual cases of Greek names (Artemisios, Asklepios, Theodoros). On occasion these conventions may give rise to apparent inconsistencies.

For the (still) few proponents of the thesis of the 2nd century provenance of the canonized gospels, the ad quem for the so-called canonical redaction of the Luke-Gospel cannot be later than the 160s (Vinzent 2014). Over the last two decades, the dating options of the earliest collection of Ignatius' letters ("Middle Recension") have ranged from the first to the last quarter of the 2nd century (an over-

#### Ev. Luc. 1.1–4 and Act. Ap. 1.1–2 read, respectively, as follows:

Ἐπειδήπερ πολλοὶ ἐπεχείρησαν ἀνατάξασθαι διήγησιν περὶ τῶν πεπληροφορημένων ἐν ἡμῖν πραγμάτων, καθὼς παρέδοσαν ἡμῖν οἱ ἀπ' ἀρχῆς αὐτόπται καὶ ὑπηρέται γενόμενοι τοῦ λόγου, ἔδοξεν κἀμοὶ παρηκολουθηκότι ἄνωθεν πᾶσιν ἀκριβῶς καθεξῆς σοι γράψαι, κράτιστε Θεόφιλε, ἵνα ἐπιγνῷς περὶ ὧν κατηχήθης λόγων τὴν ἀσφάλειαν.

Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may gain assurance of the things about which you have been instructed.12

Τὸν μὲν πρῶτον λόγον ἐποιησάμην περὶ πάντων, ὦ Θεόφιλε, ὧν ἤρξατο ὁ Ἰησοῦς ποιεῖν τε καὶ διδάσκειν, ἄχρι ἧς ἡμέρας ἐντειλάμενος τοῖς ἀποστόλοις διὰ πνεύματος ἁγίου οὓς ἐξελέξατο ἀνελήμφθη.

In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen.<sup>13</sup>

In the article we have already referred to, Robert Parker noted that Greek theophoric names, namely personal names for human beings formed from those of deities, whether specific or generic meta-human powers, could be created in three ways: using literal theonymy (e.g., Ἄρτεμις), adding a suffix to the god's or goddess's proper name (e.g., Ἀρτεμίσιος) or compounding it with a second meaning-bearing element (e.g., Ἀρτεμιδώρα).14 Θεόφιλos – like the other two names discussed in this article – belongs to this latter category. Though tempering Aristotle's generalized statement that single parts of a "compound sound" do not bear meaning, so that "god-bearing" onomastics do not disclose religious preferences/attitudes/affiliations on the part of the bearers and their families,15 Parker acknowledges that we have no clue whether, and if so how, significant the differences between the various types of theophoric names may have been. At the same time, once passed down through (usually alternate) generations and/or adopted beyond the original location of use, a god-derived name could certainly outlive the possible religious context in which it was originally bestowed.16 In conclusion, we have no compelling evi-

Transl. NRSV, our emphasis.

view in Alciati/Urciuoli 2022). A date before the mid 2nd century for To Diognetus is highly implausible. For a very recent assessment of the dating range, see Ruggiero 2022, 22–24.

Ed. Nestle-Aland; transl. NRSV (slightly modified; our emphasis). Scholars who follow the traditional dating of Luke-Gospel (i.e., about 85–95 CE) can reasonably affirm that "Luke offers the most textually self-conscious statement yet among Jesus followers" (Keith 2020, 124).

Parker 2000, 57–59. As Clearchus points out in the continuation of the fragment cited in n.1, polytheophoric names, too, are possible – and equally fashionable in some specific chronotopes (Benaissa 2009). Ἐν γὰρ τοῖς διπλοῖς οὐ χρώμεθα ὡς καὶ αὐτὸ καθ'αὑτὸ σημαῖνον, οἷον ἐν τῷ Θεοδώρος οὐ σημαίνει

<sup>(</sup>Arist., Po. 20.1457a12–14).

Horsley 1987, 3.

dence that real persons named Θεόφιλos were expected to have a stronger relation (i.e., either dearer or more devout) to the divine than others. Rather, as a working principle, we should exclude it.17

Used by both Greek-speaking polytheists and Jews, Θεόφιλos as a proper name first appears in Attic inscriptions in the very late 5th century BCE and becomes popular already in the 4th.<sup>18</sup> A late 2nd century bishop, heresiologist, and advocate of Christ religion, Theophilus of Antioch, bears this name too. Thanks to its theological neutrality, Θεόφιλos continued to be used also when recognizably Christian onomastic patterns – whether Bible names of Jewish origins (e.g. Joseph), taken from evangelical eponyms (e.g. Paul) and early Christian heroes and heroines (e.g. Thekla), or formed on a Greek pattern but incorporating new religious meaning (e.g. Eusebius) – started slowly disseminating.<sup>19</sup>

To our knowledge, no attempt at connecting Luke's Theophilus to a known historical figure, as first proposed in the 4th century Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions, bears scrutiny.<sup>20</sup> Therefore, we are dealing either with an unknown financial patron of Luke's enterprise, such as Ambrose will be to Origen in 3rd century Alexandria,21 or with a literary fiction loosely indicating the Christian-ness of a specific addressee or that of the wide readership – Θεόφιλos the recipient is dear to the same θεός of Luke the author. Whatever the case, Luke does not seem to assume an in-depth training in Christian matters on the part of his declared audience. If not a neophyte, Theophilus certainly needs further guidance to gain more doctrinal confidence (ἀσφάλεια).<sup>22</sup> The question whether we are to interpret the appellation κράτιστος ("most excellent") as an intentional reference to some specific public official will be discussed later in this paper in relation to the parallel formula of To Diognetus. For the time being, we sim-

"As a working principle, one has no choice but to treat the differences between the different types of theophoric names as non-significant, no significance having been established" (Parker 2000, 61). On the debated topic of the relationship between naming practices and beliefs/affiliation to specific religious traditions, see Choat 2006, 51 (with bibliography).

LGPN 2, 222. Interestingly enough, the appearance of the name seems to coincide with the rise in the use of the adjective θεοφιλής ("loved/favoured by god"). The adjective seems then suddenly to have come into fashion – in Xenophon (Ap. 32; Cyr. 4.1.6; Lac. 4.5 etc.) and even more so in Plato (see esp. Euthphr. 7a, 8a, 10e, 15c; also Crat. 394e). According to LSJ, Philo is the earliest author to use θεοφιλής in an active sense, "God-loving", which may suggest that it was in late Hellenistic Jewish circles that the transfer of the sense of the name Θεόφιλος became plausible. We consider at least Philo, Spec. 2.180; 3.126; Virt. 179; Praem. 27; Prov. 2.16; QG 2.16; 4.208 clear examples of this shift.

For the unimportance of personal names as indexes of religious commitment in the first centuries CE, see Rebillard 2012, 13. For their general unreliability well into the 4th century, see Choat 2006, 51–56; Frankfurter 2014. For the slow dissemination of new naming styles, see Marrou 1977.

10.71: "a leading man in Antioch". Rüpke 2021, 60–61 cites the opening of Luke, and the address to Theophilus, to emphasize its unquestioning assumption of urban styles of written narration and polite intercommunication.

Origen, Comm. Jo. 5.1.2.

Fitzmeyer 1981, 289–290.

ply note that, in the other three Lukan occurrences, the word does apply to highranking Roman officials.23

The closest analogy with Luke's prologues is offered by the opening lines of Josephus' Against Apion. In this work of defence of the Judean code of laws, written no earlier than 94 CE, we also find: (a) the presentation of the work as a sequel and a supplement of a same author's former composition (i.e., Josephus's Jewish Antiquities); (b) a reference to concurrent scripts and accounts on the same topic/s that tempt the writer not just to vie for superiority over prior or contemporary attempts but also strive for accuracy for the sake of instruction of sympathetic readers;24 (c) a dedicatory dyad consisting of an honorific epithet and a theophoric name – "In the history of our Antiquities, most excellent Epaphroditus (κράτιστε ἀνδρῶν ᾿Επαφρόδιτε), I have, I think, made sufficiently clear to any who may peruse that work the extreme antiquity of our Jewish race . . .". <sup>25</sup> As we know from prologues and epilogues of other Josephan works,26 Epaphroditus is no doubt a real person, most likely a patron constantly encouraging and sponsoring most of Josephus' literary activity in Rome. As for his identity, two major options have been canvassed but no consensus yet achieved.27

#### 2.2 The God-Carrying

The second debated occurrence of a theophoric name in early Christian literature does not feature in a dedication but in a salutation and works as a declaration of authorship, in brief: as a signature. It appears in the opening sentence of all seven letters composing the so-called Middle Recension of the epistolary corpus of Ignatius of Antioch.<sup>28</sup> As an example, we can take the greeting formula of To the Ephesians:

Namely the two Roman procurators of Judaea immediately prior to 66 CE: Marcus Antonius Felix (Act. Ap. 23.26 and 26.25) and Porcius Festus (Act. Ap. 26.25). Yet only in the former case does κράτιστος occur in an official document, namely a formal letter sent by the tribune Claudius Lysias to the procurator Antonius Felix, whereas the others are invented speeches.

See the serviceable notion of "competitive textualization" in Keith 2020.

J., Ap. 1.1 (ed. and transl. Thackeray 1926).

AJ 1.8–9; Vit. 430.

This theophoric name was very common in 1st and 2nd century Rome, especially for slaves and freedmen. The identification with Epaphroditus, the freedman grammarian (see the Suda, s.v. "Epaphroditos"), is chronologically much more plausible: Rajak 1983, 224 n.1; Barclay 2007, 4 n.3.

Since the end of the 19th century, the Middle Recension (MR) has generally been considered the oldest and most genuine of the three extant collections of letters transmitted under the name of Ignatius (the other two are termed the "Long" and "Short" Recensions). However, in the last fifty years, this consensus on the authenticity of the MR has been repeatedly challenged (most recently by Vinzent 2019, 266–464). For a detailed overview and critique of the dissenting positions, see Brent 2007, 95–143. The MR contains six letters addressed to as many Christ groups based in six different cities (Ephesus, Magnesia, Tralles, Rome, Philadelphia, Smyrna) and one to bishop Polycarp of Smyrna.

᾿Ιγνάτιος, ὁ καὶ Θεοφόρος, τῇ εὐλογημένη ἐν μεγέθει θεοῦ πατρὸς πληρώματι, τῇ προωρισμένῃ πρὸ αἰώνων εἶναι διὰ παντὸς εἰς δόξαν παράμονον ἄτρεπτον, ἡνωμένην καὶ ἐκλελεγμένην ἐν πάθει ἀληθινῷ, ἐν θελήματι τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν, τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ τῇ ἁξιομακαρίστῳ, τῇ οὔσῃ ἐν Ἐφέσῳ τῆς Ἀσίας, πλεῖστα ἐν Ἰησοῦ Χριστῷ καὶ ἐν ἀμωμῳ χαρᾷ χαίρειν.

Ignatius, who is also called Theophorus, to the church that is blessed with greatness by the fullness of God the Father, a church foreordained from eternity past to obtain a constant glory which is enduring and unchanging, a church that has been unified and chosen in true suffering by the will of the Father and of Jesus Christ, our God; to the church in Ephesus of Asia, which is worthy of all good fortune. Warmest greetings in Jesus Christ and in blameless joy.<sup>29</sup>

The fragment of Clearchus aside, it is quite doubtful whether there is any assured instance of an active sense "god-carrying / ‑bearer" (accentuation: θεοφόρος) before the mid-late 2nd century CE.<sup>30</sup> Until then, the word-cluster centred on the passive sense "borne/inspired by god" (accentuation: θεόφορος), attested from the mid 5th century BCE onwards, is overwhelmingly dominant.<sup>31</sup> Both senses would be possible and equally meaningful here, but the former is surely preferable on account of its close correspondence with the use of ‑φόρος compounds in a later passage of To the Ephesians: "And so you are all travelling companions bearing God, bearing Christ, bearing the temple, and bearing the holy things, adorned in every way with the commandments of Jesus Christ" (ἐστὲ οὖν καὶ σύνοδοι πάντες, θεοφόροι καὶ ναοφόροι, χριστοφόροι, ἁγιοφόροι, κατὰ πάντα κεκοσμημένοι ἑν ταῖς ἐντολαῖς Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ).32 The list of epithets

Ignatius, Eph. Praef. (ed. and transl. Ehrman 2003, our emphasis).

Apart from the Clearchus-fragment (see n.1), the only possible case is Aeschylus frg. 225 Radt: καὶ νίπτρα δὴ χρὴ θεοφόρων ποδῶν φέρειν | λεοντοβάμων ποῦ σκάφη χαλκήλατος, "a bowl of beaten bronze resting on a lion must carry water (for washing his?) . . . feet", cited by Pollux 10.77 from Sisyphus in connection with containers for water. In our view, Pietruczuk 2011, 136 n. 27 is right to argue, against LSJ, that a passive sense "guided by gods" is at least as plausible as an active one ("god-bearing feet"), given that the force of the genitives is unclear, the context and reference entirely hypothetical, and Aeschylus' use of the passive sense confirmed from Ag. (see next n.). The earliest clear experiment with an active sense (in this case: θεοφόρητος) is [Lucian], Asin. 37, but in an ironic sense: the donkey carries the goddess' statue, while the eunuch priests stage ecstasy. Probably likewise in the late 2nd century, Sextus Empiricus, M. 9.32 uses θεοφορῶ once to mean "treat/consider as a god".

Θεόφορος, first recorded in Aeschylus (together with ἐπίσσυτος, qualifying δύαι: "violent, godinspired miseries" [Ag. 1150, lyr.]; cf. θεοφόρητος with φρενομανής, 1140), is very rare in Classical Greek, but the nouns θεοφόρησις and θεοφορία are well-attested in the imperial period in the sense 'ecstatic state', while the adjective θεοφόρητος and the verb θεοφορῶ occur frequently in the passive, meaning 'possessed by a god' (e.g. Menander's comedy ἡ θεοφορουμένη, frag. 142 Austin; of Cassandra: Dio of Prusa, Or. 11.56; 61.18). These senses are very common in Philo (e.g. Somn. 1.2; 2.232; Her. 46; 69; Mos. 1.20; 283; 2.69, 251, 265 etc.), continuing into Christian usage, e.g. Justin, 1 Apol. 33.9; 35.3 and Clement of Alexandria, Strom. 7.13. Clement self-consciously juxtaposes θεοφόρος and θεοφορῶ in the active and passive senses at e.g. Strom. 6.12.104.2; 7.13.82.3; cf. exc. Thdt 1.27. From the 4th century the distinction between the two words seems to disappear, with θεοφόρος taken as the norm.

Eph. 9.2. This was argued already by Lightfoot 1889<sup>2</sup> , 21; cf. Bremmer 2021, 410. For a list of other uses by Ignatius of words compounded with θεο‑ in the MR, see Vinzent 2019, 302.

recalls the sequence of functionaries in pagan processions and is here leveraged to evoke the image of a Christian parade.33

The formula ὁ καί plus the fact that Θεοφόρος is not otherwise documented at the time as a proper name indicate that we are dealing with a laudatory appellative used as a second name.<sup>34</sup> If Ignatius is the author's real name, as most specialists still assume,<sup>35</sup> then Theophorus is an additional name or sobriquet adopted at a certain point to further individualize the bearer through stressing a particular quality or commemorating a peculiar life-experience – rather like the glorious epithets of Brazilian footballers known as Pelé, Garrincha, Zico, Careca, Cafu. If Ignatius is a pseudonym,<sup>36</sup> then we are facing an onomaturgic practice as sophisticated as designations like "The Artist (formerly known as Prince)", where a nickname adds to another one. In the present case, a nom de plume (Θεοφόρος) would then rather supplement (ὁ καί) a pseudonym (᾿Ιγνάτιος).

Egyptian papyri and inscriptions across the Mediterranean show that, from slaves and businesspersons to rulers, Greek double names in the form of "X also called Y" were extremely fashionable in the Roman empire at the time and would remain so for centuries.37 Yet, since Theophoros was not used as a personal name in the 2nd century Greek and Roman world, it could not have been given to Ignatius at birth. The circumstances of the name-giving are hard to pinpoint. Rather than bestowed on him by others as a title of honour, it is more likely that Ignatius himself "made the adjective [θεοφόρος] into a name [Θεοφόρος], surely in the metaphorical meaning" and as a token of his

See Dölger 1934, 67–80; Schoedel 1985, 67. Disregarding Ignatius' term θεοφόρος, both ναοφόρος and ἁγιοφόρος are hapaxes evidently invented by him and used in no other author – only χριστοφόρος had a future, albeit in a different sense ("inspired by – "). Yet e.g. ἱεραφόρος, κανηφόρος, κλειδοφόρος, μελανηφόρος, παστοφόρος, σινδονοφόρος and others still are known from the cult of Isis, θεοφόρος, θυρσοφόρος, ναρθηκοφόρος, and στεφανηφόρος in Dionysiac associations, ῥαβδοφόρος at Andania. These non-Christian words are all accented paroxytone.

Indeed, LGPN does not catalogue it as an epigraphically-attested name at all in the volumes covering mainland Greece, Cyrenaica, western Greece and coastal Asia Minor. Nor does the MAP database record it. There is one possible attestation in Galatia.

The name is most probably a hellenisation of the Latin gentilicium Egnatius, which in Greek manuscripts and inscriptions is often written Ἰγν‑ or Αἴγν‑ (e.g. SEG 42, 1110; Bithynia, Roman period). Such a name, here not necessarily still a gentilicium, probably marks descendants of the familia of the equestrian L. Egnatius Rufus, a friend of Cicero with business interests in the province of Asia. A derivation from the supposed name of mythical creatures on Rhodes, ἴγνητες, is unlikely.

Joly 1979 is generally recognized as the first serious challenge to the historicity of an early bishopfigure who authored, among other letters, To the Philadelphians. According to Joly, Ignatius bishop of Antioch is an invented figure, his journey to martyrdom pure fiction, and his epistolary corpus a forgery produced in the late 2nd century.

Already Lambertz 1913. Jan Bremmer has recently affirmed that "the use of ὁ καί for double names is attested throughout the entire Byzantine and Arabian periods, right until the end of the use of Greek in Egypt in the eighth century" (Bremmer 2021, 410).

Christian and – possibly – even christo-mimetic obligations.38 Walter Schoedel argues that it was "adopted by Ignatius at his baptism despite the fact that the adoption of Christian names was not common until the middle of the 3rd century." 39

Whether a baptismal choice or a martyrial signifier, the sobriquet must have reflected a "shift in self-perception" analogous to the religious reorientation experienced by to "Saul, also known (ὁ καί) as Paul" (Act. Ap. 13.9).<sup>40</sup> After all, contemporary writers like Plutarch and Aelius Aristides, too, refer to "theologically significant" names (Thespesios and Theodoros, respectively) being used after a religious transformation.<sup>41</sup> Especially in the case of Aristides, the by-name spells out the divine endorsement of a powerful healing god, Asklepios –"'First of all', he [i.e., Asklepios] said, 'it is necessary for (your mind) to be moved away from its ordinary state, and once it has been changed, to associate with God and, by this association, to transcend the human condition [. . .]'. And the name Theodoros was given to me in the following manner . . .". 42

#### 2.3 The Zeus-Born

The case of To Diognetus is the most intensely debated of the three, in that a possible identification of a historical persona behind the theophoric name would offer a most critical clue for locating the author of the text.

Ἐπειδὴ ὁρῶ, κράτιστε Διόγνητε, ὑπερεσπουδακότα σε τὴν θεοσέβειαν τῶν Χριστιανῶν μαθεῖν καὶ πάνυ σαφῶς καὶ ἐπιμελῶς πυνθανόμενον περὶ αὐτῶν, τίνι τε θεῶ πεποιθότες καὶ πῶς θρεσκεύοντες αὐτὸν τόν τε κόσμον ὑπερορῶσι πάντες καὶ θανάτου καταφρονοῦσι καὶ οὔτε τοὺς νομιζομένους ὑπὸ τῶν ῾Ελλήνων θεους λογίζονται οὔτε τὴν ᾿Ιουδαίων δεισιδαιμονίαν φυλάσσουσι, καὶ τίνα τὴν φιλοστοργίαν ἔχουσι πρὸς ἀλλήλους, καὶ τί δή ποτε καινὸν τουtο γένος ᾐ ἐπιτήδευμα εἱσῆλθεν εἰς τὸν βίον νῦν καὶ οὐ πρότερον· ἀποδέχομαί γε τῆς προθυμίας σε ταύτες καὶ παρὰ τοὺ θεοῦ, τοῦ καὶ

Bremmer 2021, 411, closely following Lightfoot 18892 , 22. Schoedel 1985, 36 argues against a reference to martyrdom.

Schoedel 1985, 36. As far as name changes are concerned, the only documented case before the legalization of Christ religion is that of some Egyptian confessors who exchanged their theophoric birth names for those of various Jewish prophets (Eusebius of Caesarea, Mart. Pal. 11.8). Corsten 2019 surveys several different types of epigraphically-attested onomastic change, but deliberately omits consideration of religiously-motivated changes in non-Christian contexts because of their extreme rarity.

Horsley 1987, 2 and 7–8.

Plu., Mor. 564c; Aristid., Or. 26 333–334 [= HL 4.52–53], cf. Schoedel 1985, 36–37 n. 17. In urging during the late 4th century that no one should name his children after family members but after martyrs, bishops and apostles, John Chrysostom was no doubt aware that few would pay heed (De inani gloria 47, p. 146 Malingrey). This is one of very few texts that suggest an explicit desire, if not a policy, in this regard on the part of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. (We thank Robert Parker for the reference.)

ἔφη [i.e., Asklepios] χρῆναι κινηθῆναι τὸν νοῦν ἀπὸ τοῦ καθεστηκότος, κινηθέντα δὲ συγγενέσθαι θεῷ, συγγενόμενον δὲ ὑπερέχειν ἤδη τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης ἕξεως· [. . .]. καὶ μὴν τοὔνομά γε ὁ Θεόδωρος οὕτως ἐπωνομάσθη μοι (ed. Keil 1898; our translation).

τὸ λέγειν καὶ τὸ ἀκούειν ἡμῖν χ ορηγοῦντος, αἰτοῦμαι δοθεναι ἑμοὶ μὲν εἰπεῖν οὕτως, ὡς μάλιστα ἂν ἀκούσαντά σε βελτίω γενέσθαι, σοί τε οὕτως ἀκοῦσαι, ὡς μὴ λυπηθῆναι τὸν εἰπόντα.

Since I see, most excellent Diognetus, that you are extremely eager to learn about the religion of the Christians and are making such an exacting and careful inquiry about them, wishing to discover which God they obey and how they worship him, so that they all despise the world and disdain death, neither giving credence to those thought to be gods by the Greeks nor keeping the superstition of the Jews, and what deep affection they have for one another, and just why this new race or way of life came into being now and not before, I welcome this eagerness of yours and ask God – who enables us both to speak and to hear – that I may be allowed to speak in such a way that you derive special benefit by hearing, and that you hear in such a way that the speaker not be put to grief.<sup>43</sup>

The way Diognetus is addressed and greeted at the very beginning of the homonymous text is strikingly similar to the preface of Luke-Gospel. In this brief and mysterious44 treatise, too, we find a name based on the common theonym Διόγνητος, "Zeus-born" or "sprung from Zeus", preceded by the appellation κράτιστος, used here to designate an addressee who is eager to be instructed in the Christian doctrine.

Conjectures regarding the identity of Diognetus date back to as early as the 17th century.<sup>45</sup> One persistent suggestion has been the Diognetos mentioned in Meditations 1.6 as a teacher of the youthful Marcus Aurelius.46 The most influential, and thus most debated, proposal of the last century was made by the French patrologist Henri-Irénée Marrou, in his edition of the text. Marrou thought the text was written in late 3rd century Alexandria, and argued that κράτιστος indicates a specific rank within the equestrian order corresponding to the Latin egregius; our Διόγνητος is to be identified as Claudius Diognetus, an equestrian procurator bearing this very title and active in Alexandria between 197–203 CE.47 However, on the one hand, as several commentators have noted, κράτιστος was also widely and flexibly used, like the Latin optimus, as a honorific appellation for socially respected gentlemen regardless of their actual office or official rank48 – rather like the title "Dottore" (Doctor) as used in Italy to salute same or higher

Diogn. 1 (ed. and transl. Ehrman 2003, our emphasis).

A fresh look into the many ambiguities of this text is offered by Urciuoli 2021.

That is, almost as early as the serendipitous discovery of the text, on which see Marrou 1951, 6–10.

Against the identification of this Diognetos as a Stoic philosopher, see von Arnim 1903. Whereas von Arnim doubted the claim of Hist. Aug. Marc. 4.9 that Marcus' Diognetos was a painter, it is accepted as a fact by Birley 1993, 37; Eck 1999, 870 and Fündling 2008, 41–42.

Marrou 1951, 254–259. On this man, see Pflaum 1960–61, 659–662 and 991–992 no. 246 = PIR<sup>2</sup> C 852 (starting in 197 as proc. Aug. vice archiereos Aegypti, rising to proc. Aug. adiutor rationalis Aegypti in 202/3), and thought to be identical to the man of the same name who became successively praefectus of the fleet at Ravenna (206) and then at Misenum (209): Roxan 1978, 92–93 no. 73 (at 93 n.2); Roxan 1994, 318–319 no. 189 (at 319 n. 5).

It is clear from other literary sources that κράτιστος, which is after all just a superlative of ἀγαθός, could be used to address persons of very different (ontological and social) statuses, from the imaginary god Ploutos (Ar., Pl. 230) to Moses in Ezekiel's Hellenistic tragedy Exagoge (l. 243), and Ammaios, the

rank persons, whether graduated or not. On the other, the identification with Claudius Diognetus seems to depend too strictly on the reasonable, and yet far from conclusive, assumption that the place of composition of the text is the Egyptian metropolis.49

Διόγνητος, which is a contraction of Διογένητος and far less common than the etymologically synonymous Διογενής, is no less plausible than Θεόφιλος as a proper name of an individual addressee. As a nickname, on the other hand, "Zeus-born" might well work as the pagan counterpart of "Beloved of God" and thus appeal to an intended audience of non-Christians who are at the same time socially respectable, well-off, well-read and educated, and open-minded enough to desire to know more about this new religion.50

To sum up: of the three theophoric names, one is certainly an epithet/second name (Theophorus), the other two can be both proper names and literary fictions (Theophilus, Diognetus). Two of them refer to Christ-believing individuals endowed, however, with very different levels of insider knowledge and thus religious capital (Theophilus, Theophorus), the other may indicate a perceptive non-Christian pointedly regarded as a prospective Christian (Diognetus). None of them is derogatory: even the pagan etymology of "Diognetus" is compensated by the title of excellence that adorns it with social respectability – something less than Nathan the Wise, more than the Noble Savage. Altogether, they bespeak a cross-Mediterranean field of cultural production where self-styled religious experts<sup>51</sup> communicate in a language of class and honour including the names of the gods and, potentially, harnessing the power enshrined by them. Yet what kind of power is here at stake?

# 3 Conclusion

In our three examples, the power resulting from a careful selection and combination of linguistic sequences is not of the kind that may be ritually activated, as in amulets or curse tablets. Rather, it is semiotically manufactured and conveyed in order to contribute to wider strategies serving the agenda of the writers.

Luke, the Christian history writer, attempts to establish the superiority of his own textualized narrative of Jesus over the other existing Jesus stories by relying on the kind of "assurance" that only an orderly literary arrangement of the facts underlying

addressee of Dionysius of Halicarnassus' De antiquis oratoribus (§1). As for the papyri, the more than 850 examples of the word in the vocative available on Diogenes [https://d.iogen.es/d/; cf. https://www.text kit.com/greek-latin-forum/] suggest that any superior, from the praefectus Aegypti to a centurion, could be so addressed in official documents – the examples are mostly from the 2nd century onwards.

Ruggiero 2020, 25; Menestrina 1997, 216–217.

Menestrina 1977, 218. For Diognetus as a signifier indexing a man/men of means, see Horst and Robinson 2021.

Stowers 2016; Wendt 2016.

the doctrine is able to provide to a certain milieu of perceptive readers. Ignatius, the Christian ambassador, aims to outcompete a regionally variable set of opponents by combining the promotion of a universal pattern of church order with a self-advertising strategy based on the imitation of Christ's suffering. The anonymous author of To Diognetus, the Christian teacher, wants "the religion of the Christians" to stand up to the polytheists and the Jews by outlining an intellectually competitive doctrine and sponsoring an affordable Christian way of life across the social spectrum.

What we have called "onomaturgy" can be seen as part of these strategies. Understood here as the self-conscious semiotic manipulation of compound names of which one element refers to the Christian God or another deity, it shows the implicit intention of exemplifying a Cratylean "justice" in naming.<sup>52</sup> Each of these names fits like a glove. The excellent "Beloved of God" indirectly signals the higher quality of Luke's literary products with regard to his predecessors and current rivals; "God-carrying" bolsters Ignatius' credibility as a death-seeking emissary and ambassador of Christ; the excellent "Zeus-born" proves that there is no degree of social adequacy, involvement, and responsibility that is incompatible with an existential turn to Christ religion. By the same token, dropping such names on the page can be expected to have an impact also on the receiving end of the "extended situation" generated by the written text.<sup>53</sup> The audience, indeed, is implicitly invited to measure up to the demands articulated by/via the name either he/she or the writer bears. The implicit and intended audiences of Luke, Ignatius, and the anonymous author of To Diognetus are called upon to belong to, and be worthy of, a "reading community" <sup>54</sup> enhanced by divine favour, inspiration, and even descent.

It is, after all, of minor importance whether there was originally one body or none behind these names. Given the popularity of theophoric names in the Roman empire, calling oneself or somebody else by god's name might serve several different purposes at once, have different fitting affordances: enhancing one's own or the addressee's "competitive" or "reflective individuality", <sup>55</sup> acknowledging a shared urbanity across the religious spectrum,56 paying gentlemanly respect – even peer recognition – to the intended reader, or indeed marshalling the divinity to support the literary and community-building project.

Genette 1976, 18–19 emphasizes the indeterminacy of "justice" here.

Keith 2020, 97. The concept of "extended situation" (zerdehnte Situation) is taken from Assmann 2006.

On this concept, see again Johnson 2000, 602–603.

For this typological differentiation of individualities, see Rüpke 2016, 709–711.

Rüpke 2021.

# Bibliography

Alciati, Roberto / Urciuoli, Emiliano R. (2022), "The Parvenu and the Quixote: A Bourdieuian Reading of Ignatius of Antioch, To the Philadelphians 8", in: Studi e Materiali di Storia delle Religioni 88, 1, 176–195.

Assmann, Jan (2006) (= 2000), Religion and Cultural Memory, Stanford CA.

Barclay, John M.G. (ed.) (2007), Flavius Josephus, Against Apion, in: Flavius Josephus: Translation and Commentary, edited by Steve Mason (vol. 10), Leiden / Boston.

Benaissa, Amin (2009), "Greek polytheophoric names: An onomastic fashion of Roman Egypt", in: Ancient Society 39, 71–97.

Birley, Anthony (1993), Marcus Aurelius: A biography, <sup>3</sup> London.

Bremmer, Jan N. (2021), "The place, date and author of the Ignatian Letters: An onomastic approach", in: Wolfgang Grünstäudl / Karl Matthias Schmidt (eds.), Die Datierung neutestamentlicher

Pseudepigraphen: Herausforderungen und neuere Lösungsansätze, Tübingen, 405–434.

Brent, Allen (2007), Ignatius of Antioch: A Martyr Bishop and the Origin of Episcopacy, London.

Choat, Malcolm (2006), Belief and cult in fourth-century papyri, Turnhout.

Corsten, Thomas (2019), "Name changes of individuals", in: Robert Parker (ed.), Changing names: Tradition and innovation in ancient Greek onomastics (Proceedings of the British Academy 222), Oxford, 138–152.

Dölger, Franz Joseph (1934), Antike und Christentum: Kultur- und religionsgeschichtliche Studien. IV Band: Heften 1–4, Münster.

Eck, Werner (1999), s.v. Marcus Aurelius, in: DNP 7, 870–875.

Ehrman, Bart D. (ed.) (2003), The Apostolic Fathers. Volume 1, Cambridge MA.

Fitzmyer, Joseph A. (ed.) (1981), The Gospel according to Luke (I–IX), Garden City.


Pflaum, H.-G. (1960–61), Les carrières procuratoriennes équestres sous le Haut-Empire romain, Paris.

Rajak, Tessa (1983), Josephus: The historian and his society, London.

Rebillard, Éric (2012), Christians and their many identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, 200–450 CE, Ithaca. Roxan, Margaret M. (1978), Roman military diplomas, 1954–1977, London.

Roxan, Margaret M. (1994), Roman military diplomas, 1985–1993, London.

Rüpke, Jörg (2016), "Individualization and privatization", in: Michael Stausberg and Steven Engler (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Study of Religion, Oxford, 702–717.

Rüpke, Jörg (2021), "Urbanität als Distinktionsmerkmal von Texten: Urbanisierung und Ruralisierung in den römischen Evangelien", in: Markus Vinzent (ed.), Studia Patristica 123, Papers presented at the 18th international conference on Patristic Studies, Oxford 2019, Leuven, 51–64.

Ruggiero, Fabio (2020), A Diogneto, Rome.

Salem, Jean (1996), Démocrite. Grains de poussière dans un rayon de soleil, Paris.


von Arnim, Hans (1903), s.v. Diognetos 17), in: RE 5, 1, 785–786.

Wehrli, Fritz (ed.) (1969), Die Schule des Aristoteles, 3: Klearchos von Soli2 , Basel.

Wendt, Heidi (2016), At the temple gates: The religion of freelance experts in the Roman Empire, New York.

Part 6: Names and Knowledge

# David Hamidović and Alaya Palamidis Introduction

In his 1969 study about The Romans and their Gods, Robert Ogilvie writes that "gods, like dogs, will answer only to their names". <sup>1</sup> The scholar expresses the idea that choosing the correct name is essential for the efficacy of the ritual.<sup>2</sup> However, unlike dogs, West-Semitic and Greek gods are characterised by their polyonymy,<sup>3</sup> which is at the core of the MAP project: there is not only one, but several correct ways of addressing them. An example thereof is Yahweh, the god of the Hebrew Bible. He is both the god of Israel, who has a special relationship with the group named Israel, and the god of all humankind, in fact, the whole world. Consequently, Yahweh received different names in different contexts across the biblical texts. They testify to the numerous meanings, functions and understandings of Yahweh during the first millennium BCE to the point of saturating the signifying space.

Such polyonymy even made it possible to decree a prohibition against pronouncing the name of Yahweh in vain (Exod. 20:7; Deut. 5:11), which remains in force in Jewish tradition to this day. In most manuscripts of the Septuagint, for instance, the Tetragram ("Yahweh") was replaced by the Greek word kurios, "Lord". <sup>4</sup> As a consequence of the prohibition, the pronunciation of the name "Yahweh" was eventually forgotten. In the eyes of the people of Israel, Yahweh never ceased to answer even though he was no longer called by the name which he had revealed to Moses (Exod. 3:13–15 and 6:2–3). Nevertheless, Robert Ogilvie's statement raises an important question: if addressing the gods by a name which is correct is so important, how are these correct names known to humans?

# 1 Tradition and Innovation

Most of the time, the correctness of a name is validated by tradition. If the name has been used for generations and there is no sign that it displeases the gods or that they are unresponsive, then it can be considered "correct". New names can be created using past and shared onomastic knowledge – for instance, when onomastic attributes used for other deities or by foreign cities are used for the first time in a specific sanctuary. But many innovations originate in a learned environment. As Martin Leuenberger shows in his chapter, the word Elohim, that means "gods" in the plural,

Cf. Angelini in this volume.

Ogilvie 1969, 24.

Cf. part 1, "Ritual names", in this volume.

Bonnet 2019.

became the concept of "God", both the god Yahweh and the divine in general – even though the situation varied between the kingdom of Judah, in the south, around Jerusalem, and the northern kingdom called the kingdom of Israel, linked to the Phoenician and Assyrian worlds. Such a monotheistic innovation occurred in the aftermath of the military defeats against the Babylonian empire, when the royal and priestly elites tried to construct the image of a god Yahweh who had not abandoned his people. In the case studied by Jonathan Ben-Dov, the theological innovation lies not in the creation of a new onomastic sequence, but in the possible re-semantisation of an old one in a new context. Because of the multivalence of the word "spirit", the theonym "Lord of the spirits" can emphasise the different faces of the divine, especially in the strong cosmological context of the Book of Parables (1Enoch 37–71) where "spirits" in particular can be understood as "winds". In these examples and elsewhere, the authority of priests and other religious specialists can often be thought to guarantee the correctness or pertinence of a name. But sometimes, a name receives its validation from an even higher authority: that of the gods themselves.

#### 2 Revealed and Non-Revealed Names

As Martin Leuenberger reminds us in his chapter, the revelation of his names by Yahweh himself obeys different strategies according to place, time and human agency, in particular cultic issues, even if only one of these names is considered his "authentic" name. Unlike the Herodotean conception according to which knowledge of divine names is transmitted from people to people,<sup>5</sup> knowledge of the name "Yahweh" is a privilege restricted to the people of Israel.

The idea that a "true" name can only be revealed by the gods themselves to a selected person or community can also be found in the ritual transmitted by a lateantique papyrus from Egypt and studied by Florian Audureau and Thomas Galoppin. Here, a highly-learned ritual is described that allows the ritual specialist to obtain the "authentic" name of the god "who governs all things". Knowledge of the name of the god is described as an initiation – the expert performing the ritual is "initiated into [the] name" of the god. This name, like the god himself, "encompasses everything", as reflected in particular by the multiple "voices" and languages that compose the name – not only human languages such as Hebrew and Egyptian, but also ape or falcon languages. The name has a phonetic form, linked to a narrative, but also an iconographical form; it can also be ingested. Thus, it is much more than a simple sequence of sounds; acquiring the name of the god implies acquiring a power, which can be used to perform different rituals and put to various uses. The ritual described in the papyrus probably draws on older Egyptian traditions. Some gods, such as Osiris and

Hdt. 2.49–52. Cf. Palamidis' paper.

Horus, are sometimes called "He whose name is hidden" (Ỉmn rn.f),6 and a 19th-dynastypapyrus (P. Turin 1993) narrates Isis' quest to discover the secret name of Ra, who describes himself as the one "whose name the gods do not know". In this text, Ra says that "my father and mother told me my name. I have hidden it in my body from my children so as to prevent the power of a male or female magician from coming into existence against me". 7

In the Greek world, in some mystery cults like the cult of Despoina in Lykosoura,8 knowledge of the name is shared among the initiated but is kept secret from outsiders. However, as Alaya Palamidis' chapter suggests, the Platonic idea according to which the "true" names of the gods are inaccessible to humans is not reflected in nonphilosophical sources. Representations of the divine are shaped by Homeric and Hesiodic poetry, where the "theonyms" used by the Greeks are the same as the "theonyms" used by the gods themselves. Greek sources indicate that some names were revealed by the gods themselves, in particular through oracles, but that other names were human creations, some more "appropriate" than others. In Greek sanctuaries, however, there is no difference in use between divine names dictated by an oracle and names for which a human origin was claimed.

The names of the gods which were considered divine revelations could be thought to provide insights into the nature of the divine. In his 1888 book, theologian Andrew Jukes studied "the various names under which it has pleased God to reveal Himself to man", including not only the "revealed" names Yahweh (or Jehovah) and El-Shadday (cf. Exod. 3:13–15 and 6:2–3; Gen. 17:1), but also the names Elohim, El Elyon, Adonay and Yahweh Sabaoth.9 Long before Jukes or the MAP project, the peoples of the ancient Mediterranean and beyond had already understood the importance of studying the names of the gods. In the Greek world, different philosophical schools attributed different origins to these names. Socrates, in Plato's Cratylus, suggested that they were created by wise name-givers in a distant past, while the Stoics considered names an imitation of the things named, and therefore naturally correct.<sup>10</sup> In both cases, the names of the gods were seen to stem from a higher authority, and since they were thought to contain a condensed narrative about the gods, they were seen as a privileged way of knowing the divine, as shown by Francesco Padovani in his chapter.

Gabolde 2013, 27–28.

Translated by Ritner 2003.

Paus. 8.37.9.

Jukes 1888, 6.

Cf. Padovani 2018, 35–38 with previous bibliography.

### 3 Divine Names and Etymology

In Antiquity, etymological inquiries are possible because numerous deities bear names which can no longer be understood. Of course, it is perfectly possible to worship a deity whose name is obscure. A 2nd-century-CE dedication from Puteoli to the "Goddess M(istress) Dasyr(ia)", deae d(ominae) Dasyr(iae), and another dedication from the 2nd–3rd century from Macedonia addressed to "the goddess Diasuria", Διασύρῳ θεᾷ – that is, in both cases, to the "Goddess 'Syrian Goddess'" –, suggest that the dedicants were not aware of the meaning of the goddess' name.11 Other contemporary sources indicate that the Syrian origin of the goddess was still well-understood by most.<sup>12</sup> But in Olympia, Pausanias sees an altar dedicated to Artemis Kokkoka and writes that "for what reason they surname Artemis 'Kokkoka', it is not possible for [him] to get taught". <sup>13</sup> Here, the author implies that he could not find anyone, not even among his local guides, who could understand the meaning of the goddess' epithet.14

Often, the loss of the original meaning takes place in a multicultural context. This is the case with the name "Yahweh", the origin of which is still a matter of debate. As suggested by Martin Leuenberger, it possibly comes from the Old Arabic verb "to blow" and alludes to Yahweh's origin as a local storm-god. However, the etymology of the name is most certainly unknown to the Hebrew-speaking authors of Exod. 3:14, according to whom it means "I am". In some cases, the etymology can seem obvious yet still be rejected for various reasons. For instance, according to the grammarian Apollodorus of Athens, Aphrodite's name Kupris, used by Homer, does not refer to the island of Cyprus, as usually thought, since Homer never used onomastic elements of toponymic origin to name the gods. Instead, according to Apollodorus, the name's original form was kuoporis, "the one who brings about the act of conceiving". 15

As the examples of the name of Yahweh and Kupris suggest, even if etymology is not a prerequisite for cult, it is widely used because it allows new discourses to be developed about the divine. Different etymologies can be proposed for the same name according to the context and the peculiar purposes of each literary genre. For instance, in his chapter, Francesco Padovani focusses on a group of epithets attributed to Apollo. In a Stoic context, an allegorical explanation links Apollo's epithet Lukios to light (e.g. through the word ✶ luke), thus highlighting Apollo's connections with the Sun; on the contrary, in the Iliad and in the tragics, for narrative reasons, the epithet or its variants Lukegenes and Lukeios are associated with the region of Lycia or with wolves (lukos).

CIL X, 1554 = ILS 4279 (Puteoli); I.Ano Maked. 102 = SEG 34, 684 = DB MAP S#15798 (Macedonia).

On the Syrian Goddess, cf. Andrade 2022.

Paus. 5.15.7.

As noted by Parker 2017, 32.

BNJ 244 F 353; cf. Filoni 2022.

Such etymological inquiries should not be seen as mere intellectual exercises. As Francesco Padovani shows, they are also thought to please the gods. According to the Babylonian epic Enūma eliš, the etymological explanation of the fifty names of Marduk, supposed to be passed on from generation to generation, allows the god's supremacy to be established.16 Occasionally, etymology can even influence cult practices. In another section of this volume, François Quantin refers to dedications from Bouthrotos addressed to Pan and Pasa. Here, the name of the god Pan is linked to the adjective pas (feminine pasa, neutral pan), an etymology that can already be found in the so-called Homeric hymn to Pan and in Plato.17 Thus, a new divine couple emerges, with Pasa as a feminine counterpart of Pan.

This section highlights the interplay between divine and human agency when it comes to naming the gods, and especially stresses the role of religious experts and people of knowledge in the creation and interpretation of divine names.

# Bibliography


Myerston 2013.

h.Pan. 47; Plato, Cratylus 408b-c. See Quantin, p. 421–422.

# Alaya Palamidis The Names of Greek Gods. Divine Signs or Human Creations?

Abstract: Where do the names of Greek gods come from? Do the names used by the Greeks to address their gods correspond to their "true" names, taught to the Greeks by the gods themselves? Or are they mere conventions that please the gods? Leaving aside philosophical debates, and especially Plato's views, which are already wellknown, this contribution will not only consider the famous Herodotean passages that explicitly address the question of the origin of the gods' names, but will also take into account other sources that implicitly hint at their origin. How are divine names treated in Homeric and Hesiodic poetry? In foundation myths of sanctuaries, found in Pausanias and other sources, who names the gods? What role do oracles play in establishing new divine names for later cult foundations? In the case of divine epiphanies, how are the deities recognised and their name determined?

In a famous passage from Plato's Cratylus, Socrates states that "we know nothing about the gods, neither about them nor about the names (ὀνομάτων), by which they possibly call themselves; for it is clear that they call themselves using the true (τἀληθῆ) names". <sup>1</sup> Socrates refuses to speculate about these "true" divine names,<sup>2</sup> since their knowledge is inaccessible to humans. Instead, he is willing to discuss the names given to the gods by the Greeks, as such an endeavour does not provoke the wrath of the gods (ἀνεμέσητον). However, these names are not mere conventions (ξυνθήματα/ξυνθήκη).<sup>3</sup> A name is correct (ὀρθός) when "it shows of what sort the thing (named) is" (οἷόν ἐστι τὸ πρᾶγμα) <sup>4</sup> and the correctness of a name can be evaluated by an etymological enquiry.<sup>5</sup> According to Socrates, Zeus has been very beautifully (παγκάλως) named, Hestia correctly (ὀρθῶς), Ares' name is fitting (πρέποι), while etymology reveals that Demeter's daughter should correctly (ὀρθῶς) be named

In this paper, the expression "divine names" always refers to the names of the gods in general.

Pl. Cra. 428e; cf. 422d.

Pl. Cra. 400d–e. On divine names in the Cratylus, cf. Bonnet 2020, 20–27; Bonnet 2019, 601, and Padovani in this volume with previous bibliography.

E.g. Pl. Cra. 433e.

On etymology as a means of access to knowledge about the gods, see Padovani in this volume.

Note: This publication has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union's Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement No 741182). I would like to thank Corinne Bonnet, Thomas Galoppin, Sylvain Lebreton, Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge, and all the participants in the MAP workshop, especially Nicole Belayche and Francesco Padovani, for their precious remarks.

Pherepapha rather than Persephone.<sup>6</sup> The names that are used by custom (νόμος) also have "a second kind of correctness (ὀρθότητος)" <sup>7</sup> since they obviously please (χαίρουσιν) the gods.<sup>8</sup>

In a no less famous passage, Herodotus writes that the Greeks learnt the names of most gods from the Egyptians, but that some gods such as Hera or Hestia "were named (ὀνομασθῆναι) by the Pelasgians", <sup>9</sup> while it is Hesiod and Homer who "gave the gods their eponumiai". <sup>10</sup> These texts by Plato and Herodotus have been much discussed; however, aside from them, Greek views about the origin of divine names have received surprisingly little attention in modern scholarship.<sup>11</sup> Did the Greeks consider them mere conventions or fitting names that pleased the gods? Or, rather, did they think that they came from the gods themselves? In the latter case, how did the Greeks know the names of their gods? Unfortunately, there are hardly any texts that directly address these questions, but we still have many sources that indicate how individual deities received their names.12 These sources, I will argue, suggest that the Greeks attributed various origins to the gods' epithets, but that they usually interpreted their theonyms as their "true" names, in the Platonic sense.13

# 1 Divine Names in Homeric and Hesiodic Poetry

A few passages in the Homeric poems refer to things that are named differently by the humans and by the gods.<sup>14</sup> In particular, in the first book of the Iliad, Achilles mentions one of Ouranos' and Gaia's sons, "whom the gods call (καλέουσι) Briareus, but all men call Aigaion". <sup>15</sup> These divine words, that are used in specific narrative situations, reveal a knowledge about the things they refer to that is inaccessible to humans.16 These passages concerning divine words are cited by Plato in his Cratylus; 17 they seem to have directly influenced the views represented by Socrates on the origin

Pl. Cra. 395e (Zeus); 401c (Hestia); 407d (Ares); 404d (Pherepapha).

Pl. Cra. 400e.

On names that are pleasing to the gods, see Herrero de Jáuregui in this volume.

Hdt. 2.50.

Hdt. 2.53. On the meaning of eponumiai, see below.

See mainly Borgeaud 1996, 26–27. van den Berg 2006 deals mostly with late Antique texts.

These questions deserve a much more thorough investigation but I would already like to offer a few preliminary thoughts.

I only take into account onomastic attributes that are used to identify (the deity of a particular place or a particular aspect of a deity), and I leave aside onomastic elements whose function is to glorify the gods. On this distinction, see Parker 2017, 9–17.

See in particular Brouillet 2013.

Hom. Il. 1.403–404.

Brouillet 2013, especially 158–162.

Pl. Cra. 391e–392a.

of human language and the names given to the gods by the Greeks,<sup>18</sup> which are "correct" (orthos) while the names that the gods use for themselves are "true" (alethes).19 Modern scholars often refer to these divine words as a "language of the gods", but this expression is inappropriate.<sup>20</sup> It is not a language, with verbs, a grammar and a syntax, and there is no indication that the gods have different words for each thing or living being.<sup>21</sup> In the epics, the gods speak the same language as the humans and only a few words are exclusive to them. Moreover, some of these words are divulged to Achilles and Odysseus, who have a particularly close relationship with the gods.22 For instance, Achilles has often heard his mother, the goddess Thetis, tell the story of how she helped Zeus by summoning Briareus and this is presumably how he knows the name by which the gods call Aigaion.23 In the poems, Achilles and Odysseus are not expected to keep knowledge of divine words to themselves, they are, in fact, free to share it with the other Greeks.<sup>24</sup> Contrary to what is suggested by Plato, these "words of the gods" cannot be taken as an indication that divine names are inaccessible to the mortals.

Apart from Briareus, all divine beings are always called by the names known to humans. Among themselves, the gods use the same names as the Greeks: for example, in the Iliad, Athena addresses her father as "Zeus", while the latter calls his sister and wife "Hera". <sup>25</sup> It is also by these names that the gods call themselves when they speak to the mortals. For instance, to Odysseus, who does not recognise her, the goddess who appears to him when he reaches Ithaca reveals that she is "Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus". <sup>26</sup> It is a revelation of the goddess' identity rather than her name, which is already known to the Greeks. But in the logic of the epics, similar divine apparitions would perhaps have allowed the distant ancestors of the heroes who fought in Troy to find out the names of gods for the first time.

In the Iliad and the Odyssey, the use of the same names by the mortals and the gods could be seen as nothing more than a narrative strategy. But in the Theogony, Hesiod is more explicit when he mentions the goddess that "gods and men call (κικλήσκουσι)" Aphrodite or Kythereia, and the goddesses that "both the immortal gods and the humans who walk on earth call (καλέουσιν) the Graiai". <sup>27</sup> These names were chosen



Le Feuvre 2019, 97–103.

Pl. Cra. 401c; 404d; cf. 400e (orthos); 400d–e (alethes).

As shown by Brouillet 2013, 157–158. On these passages, cf. Chiron 2017 and Le Feuvre 2019, who do not cite M. Brouillet's study.

Hom. Il. 396–406.

by the gods, as suggested by the example of the deities whom "their father, the great Ouranos, called (καλέεσκε) with the byname (ἐπίκλησιν) Titans". <sup>28</sup> These passages occur in the part of the poem that refers to the period before the separation between human and divine speech, when gods and humans still interacted:29 it is presumably because of their former proximity with the gods that the Greeks knew the names of Aphrodite or the Graiai. However, the use of present tense in these passages suggests a continuity rather than a break. These names would have been transmitted from generation to generation from a distant past up to Hesiod's day.

The so-called Homeric hymns also attribute a divine origin to the names of the gods. According to the poet of the Hymn to Pan – who plays with the name of the eponymous god that supposedly derives from the word πᾶς, πᾶσα, πᾶν ("all") – it is the immortals who "called (καλέεσκον) him Pan, because he delighted the heart of all". <sup>30</sup> In the Hymn to Apollo, the god appears to the Cretans he has chosen as his future cult attendants and declares that they shall "pray to [him] as Delphinios" <sup>31</sup> – an example that shows that it is not only the gods' theonyms, but also their epithets, that may have been chosen by the deities themselves and dictated to the mortals in a distant past.

At the same time, both Homer, Hesiod and the poets of the so-called Homeric hymns present themselves as intermediaries between the gods and their audience at a time when communication between mortals and immortals has been broken. In the Iliad, the poet asks the Muses to tell (ἔσπετε) him about the Trojan war, as they "know (ἴστέ) everything". <sup>32</sup> Hesiod, in his Theogony, writes that it is the Muses who taught (ἐδίδαξαν) him his song.33 In particular, the poet asks them to "tell (εἴπατε) how in the first place gods and earth were born", and "how [the gods] divided their wealth and distributed their honours". <sup>34</sup> About a third of the so-called Homeric hymns also start with an invocation to the Muses. If the events narrated in the Homeric epics, the Theogony and the hymns have been taught by the gods, and especially the Muses, the divine names used by the gods themselves in these poems may be considered part of this knowledge of divine origin. It is noteworthy that Hesiod refers to Briareus by the name which according to Homer is used by the gods and not by the name Aigaion, by which the mortals call him.<sup>35</sup> The poets imply that they use the "true" names (in the Platonic sense) of the gods in their poetry, some of them apparently transmitted from generation to generation from a distant past, others perhaps revealed to them by the

Hes. Th. 207–208.

Leclerc 1993, in particular part 3 and 274–275.

h.Pan. 47.

h.Ap. 499. Cf. Herrero de Jáuregui in this volume (p. 114) about the ich–Stil.

Hom. Il. 2.484–493 2.485. About the Muses in Homeric poetry, see in particular Semenzato 2017, 14–55.

Hes. Th. 22–23; cf. Op. 662 and Hom. Od. 8.479–481 and 487–491. On the role of the Muses in Hesiodic poetry, see Leclerc 1993, part 4; Semenzato 2017, 56–109.

Hes. Th. 108; 112. Transl. G.W. Most (LCL).

Hes. Th. 149; 617; 714; 734; 817; cf. Leclerc 1993, 265.

Muses.<sup>36</sup> Is this idea specific to the poetic genre, or does it reflect a widespread idea? While the views of most Greeks are inaccessible to us, the works of Herodotus and Pausanias constitute useful starting points to reflect on this question.

### 2 Herodotus on Divine Names

Herodotus believes (δοκέω) that "almost all the names (οὐνόματα) of the gods came (ἐλήλυθε) from Egypt to Greece", <sup>37</sup> not directly but through the Pelasgians, a people supposed by the Greeks to have lived in various regions of the Greek world in ancient times.<sup>38</sup> As all the examples he cites in this passage<sup>39</sup> suggest, what he refers to as names (ounomata) probably corresponds to the gods' "theonyms". Herodotus possibly means that the Greeks learnt the names of the gods from the Egyptians and the Pelasgians and subsequently adapted them into their own language. For instance, if the author writes that the Scythian name of Zeus, Papaios, is "most correct" (ὀρθότατα),40 it is presumably because he explains the name Papaios through the Greek word pappas, the father, and because he considers the name to express the same idea as the Greek name "Zeus", whom he may have understood as the god "producing life" or as "the cause of life". <sup>41</sup> Herodotus may have considered both Greeks and Scythians to have adapted the Egyptian name of Zeus into their own language.

But did the Egyptians create these divine names based on their knowledge of the deities, or did they also learn them? Herodotus writes that, except for the gods who were named by the Pelasgians, "the Egyptians have always had (αἰεί κοτε [. . .] ἐστὶ) the names (οὐνόματα) of the other gods in their land"; as for the Libyans, they "possessed (ἔκτηνται) the name (οὔνομα) of Poseidon from the beginning". <sup>42</sup> Herodotus thinks (δοκέω) that the Egyptians "have existed forever, from the time when humankind came into being". <sup>43</sup> This implies that the Egyptians possessed the names of the gods from the moment that humankind came into being; they did not create them or acquire them little by little. This suggests a great proximity with the divine.


Cf. Leclerc 1993, 291.

Hdt. 2.50. I have developed my analysis of Herodotus' passages on divine names in an article, to which I refer (Palamidis forthcoming).

On the Pelasgians, see McInerney 2014.

Hdt. 2.49–52.

Hdt. 4.59.

According to the Egyptians, in a very remote past, "those who ruled in Egypt were gods, who dwelled together with the humans". <sup>44</sup> As usual, when referring to a distant past when gods perhaps interacted with humans, Herodotus only reports what people allege and does not express a personal opinion.45 But he also fails to rule out that the first rulers of Egypt may have been gods. Therefore, when he writes that the Egyptians always had the names of the gods in their land, he seems at least to acknowledge the possibility that the Egyptians learnt the divine names from the gods themselves when they were ruled by them. Whatever the case, it is noteworthy that the oracle of Dodona consulted by the Pelasgians "ordered [them] to use (χρᾶσθαι) the names (οὐνόματα) that came (ἥκοντα) from the barbarians", <sup>46</sup> and it is the knowledge of these divinely approved names that the Pelasgians passed on to the Greeks.<sup>47</sup> As for the gods who were unknown to the Egyptians, "those, it seems to [Herodotus], were named (ὀνομασθῆναι) by the Pelasgians". 48

Does this mean that, unlike the names of all the other gods, whose origin may be divine, the names of the Dioscuri, Hera, Hestia, Themis, the Charites and the Nereids are simply human conventions? It is likely that, according to Herodotus, the Pelasgians consulted the oracle of Dodona to validate these names, as they did before with the divine names that came from Egypt, even though it is not explicit in this passage. Moreover, in a fragment of Aeschylus' Aetnaeans that concerns the birth of the Palikoi,<sup>49</sup> to the question "what name (ὄνομα) will the mortals establish (θήσοντα) for them", the answer is "Zeus orders to call them (καλεῖν) the venerable Palikoi". Likewise, in his Periegesis, Pausanias writes that Pieros "changed (μεταθέσθαι) the names (ὀνόματα)" of the Muses, but then adds that he may have done so "in accordance with some oracle" (κατά τι μάντευμα).<sup>50</sup> As these examples show, the fact that a divine name was established by humans does not exclude the possibility of a divine command. In fact, in this passage, Herodotus is not interested in the precise creation process of the divine names attributed to the gods by the Pelasgians but rather in the identity of the first people to use these names that were unknown to the Egyptians. In the end, it seems that Herodotus' inquiry left him unable to form a precise opinion on the origin of divine names, but there is nothing in his work to suggest that he considers them all to be human conventions.

Unlike divine ounomata that came from the Egyptians and other peoples, it is Hesiod and Homer "who gave (δόντες) the gods their eponumiai", according to Herodotus'

Hdt. 2.144: θεοὺς εἶναι τοὺς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ ἄρχοντας oἰκέοντας ἅμα τοῖσι ἀνθρώποισι (according to Wilson's edition, but other editions read οὐκ ἐόντας instead of oἰκέοντας).

Darbo–Peschanski 1987, 25–35.

Herodotus 2.53.

Cf. Borgeaud 2006, 91–92.

Hdt. 2.50.

Fr. 6 Radt.

Paus. 9.29.

own hypothesis (ἐγὼ λέγω, "I say").51 In the Histories, eponumie can be translated as "eponymous name", that is, a name given after someone or something, a meaningful name. Eponumiai are names, ounomata, but while the word ounoma stresses the function of a name, the word eponumie insists on its etymology. It probably has the same meaning in this passage. Here, it is unlikely that the author is referring to "cult epithets", which are very rare in the works of Hesiod and Homer, and what Hesiod and Homer gave to the gods is more probably their poetic names and epithets.

But what does Herodotus mean when he writes that they "gave" (δόντες) these eponumiai to the gods? When referring to the attribution of a name, ancient authors never use didomi, but this verb can be translated as "to offer" when its object is a gift, a sacrifice or honours.<sup>52</sup> This suggests that, according to Herodotus, Hesiod and Homer gave the epomumiai to the gods as an offering to please them. If they are thought to please the gods, it is perhaps because they are not just ounomata, but rather eponumiai, meaningful names that praise them by reflecting their characteristics. And if the poets are able to describe the characteristics of the gods in words, it is perhaps because they are inspired by the Muses, whose presence in this passage is suggested by other elements. The divine eponumiai may stem from an exchange with the gods, who inspire the poets and allow them to create names that they in turn give to the gods as an offering. They may be divinely-inspired human creations. As for the other eponumiai mentioned by Herodotus, the gods' cultic epithets, the author does not explain how they were chosen.

### 3 Divine Names in Pausanias

As an avid reader of the Histories, <sup>53</sup> Pausanias must have been aware of these Herodotean passages. Unfortunately, he does not share his own thoughts with his readers, but a few passages in his work reveal his views about the origin of divine names.54

#### 3.1 Cult Epithets

When Pausanias narrates the foundation myth of a sanctuary to explain the origin of a deity's cult epithet (epiklesis), he rarely explicitly indicates who chose this epiklesis. When he does, in most cases, the gods are named by the mortals. They are, in particular,

Hdt. 2.53.

E.g. Hom. Il. 7.450; 12.6; 20.299; Hom. Od. 1.67; Hes. Op. 138–139; E. Ba. 342.

See in particular Pirenne–Delforge 2008, 25–32; Hawes 2016, with previous bibliography.

On divine names in Pausanias, see Pirenne–Delforge 2008, 263–271; Gaertner 2006; Palamidis in preparation a.

great heroes of the past, such as Herakles who "named (ὠνόμασεν) Asklepios 'Kotyleus' ('Of the hip-joint')" in his sanctuary near Sparta; heroes known from the Homeric poems; or local heroes such as the Athenians Theseus and Kekrops or two sons of Pelasgos, one of the first Arcadians.55 Besides these names attributed by mortals, there are three explicit references in Pausanias' text to epikleseis chosen by oracles. Near Kaphyai, there was an old sanctuary of Artemis Kondyleatis, but the name of the goddess was changed (μετονομασθῆναι) and at the time of Pausanias, the inhabitants "call (καλοῦσιν) the goddess who is in Kondyleai 'Apanchomene' ('Strangled')", in accordance with an oracle, as they say (φασι).56 The author also narrates a "Lesbian story" (λόγον Λέσβιον): some fishermen found a face made of olive wood in their nets and asked the Pythia "of what god or even hero the image is"; in reply, the oracle "ordered them to honour Dionysos Phallen ('Made of olive wood')". <sup>57</sup> In Troizen, Pausanias also mentions an altar dedicated to "Dionysos with the epiklesis (ἐπίκλησιν) Saotes ('Saviour') in accordance with an oracle". 58

In most of these cases, as is common in Pausanias' work, the gods' epikleseis are linked to circumstances of the cult's foundation.<sup>59</sup> It is only when the epikleseis reveal the particular competences of the gods that the author considers the deities to have been "most correctly" (ὀρθότατα) named.<sup>60</sup> The author seems to recognise the authority of the heroes of the past, but does not attribute them any religious expertise, as they did not give the gods particularly correct names. Therefore, it must have seemed unlikely to him that epikleseis reflecting the cult's mundane history were given by oracles. This is probably why, in his works, the gods' epikleseis are usually attributed by mortals. In two of the three exceptions where he mentions an oracle, the cases of Artemis Apanchomene and Dionysos Phallen, the epiklesis is also linked to the cult's history; however, in these cases, Pausanias merely reports what the locals say without indicating whether he believes the tale or not.

On the other hand, he expresses no doubt about the fact that Dionysos was named "Saviour" by an oracle, probably because this epiklesis says something about the god, not about the cult's history. He seems willing to accept that some epikleseis, but not all of them, were chosen by the gods themselves. As we saw, for Pausanias, the fact that a mortal established a name for a deity does not exclude a divine origin for this name. Therefore, in other passages where the name reflects the deity's compe-

Pirenne–Delforge 2008, 269–270.

Paus. 3.19.7 (Herakles); 3.12.4–5; 8.14.5 (Odysseus); 4.35.8 (Diomedes); 3.13.5 (the Greeks who made the Trojan horse); 2.31.1 (Theseus); 8.2.3 (Kekrops); 8.2.1 and 8.22.2 (Lykaon and Temenos, two sons of Pelasgos; about Pelasgos, cf. 8.1.4); 1.41.3 and 2.21.3 (other heroes); cf. 1.24.3 (the Athenians); 1.44.3 (shepherds).

Paus. 8.23.6–7.

Paus. 10.19.3. On the god's epithet, see Casevitz/Frontisi-Ducroux 1989.

Paus. 2.31.5.

Paus. 3.19.6 (Dionysos Psilax); 8.31.6 (Aphrodite Machanitis).

tences, for instance, when he writes that the Athenians "first surnamed (ἐπωνόμασαν) Athena 'Ergane' ('Worker')", <sup>61</sup> a divine command is perhaps not excluded.

#### 3.2 Theonyms and Collective Names

There are fewer passages in Pausanias' work that deal with the origin of divine theonyms. The author writes that, in Olympia, the Eleans witnessed the epiphany of a deity who helped them win a victory over the Arcadians, and "gave (τίθενται) the god the name (ὄνομα) Sosipolis ('Saviour of the city')". <sup>62</sup> Pausanias also tells us that

the sons of Aloeus held that the Muses were three in number, and gave (ἔθεντο) them the names (ὀνόματα) of Melete ("Practice"), Mneme ("Memory") and Aoede ("Song"). But they say that afterwards Pieros, a Macedonian [. . .], came to Thespiae and established nine Muses, changing (μεταθέσθαι) their names (ὀνόματα) to the present ones.<sup>63</sup>

As for the Charites,

the Boeotians say that Eteocles was the first man to sacrifice to [them]. Moreover, they know (ἴσασιν) that he established three as the number of the Charites, but they do not remember (οὐ μνημονεύουσιν) the names (ὀνόματα) he gave (ἔθετο) them. The Lacedaemonians, however, say that the Charites are two, and that they were instituted by Lacedaemon, son of Taÿgete, who gave (θέσθαι) them the names (ὀνόματα) of Kleta ("Glorious sound") and Phaenna ("Flash of light").<sup>64</sup>

According to the author, the first poet known to have sung about the Charites is Pamphos, but he mentioned "neither their number, nor their names (ὀνόματά)"; <sup>65</sup> Pausanias may have thought that the poet did not know them. The Greeks agreed on the collective names of the Charites and the Muses, but their individual names were apparently unknown, as even their precise number could not be determined. This may explain why, according to Pausanias, different persons or groups gave different "speaking" names – that is, names whose meaning is immediately understandable – to the individual Charites and Muses. As for Sosipolis, Pausanias alternatively calls him a god (θεῷ) and a local daimon (ἐπιχώριος δαίμων).<sup>66</sup> According to the author, he is not a Panhellenic god, but rather a god that the Eleans had not yet encountered until that

Paus. 9.29.2–3. Transl. W.H.S. Jones (LCL).

Paus. 1.24.3.

Paus. 6.20.5.

Paus. 9.35.1 (cf. 3.18.6). Transl. W.H.S. Jones (LCL), modified; the translation of the Muses' names is taken from Calame 2018, 183.

Paus. 9.35.4.

Paus. 6.20.5; 6.20.2. On the word daimon, usually referring to an acting divine power, see Pirenne-Delforge forthcoming.

time,67 and they would have ignored his name when they witnessed his epiphany. Therefore, they would have given him a name that alluded to the circumstances of his intervention, "Saviour of the city".

The author does not explain how the name of Sosipolis was chosen but he considers three different hypotheses for the origin of the names Pieros gave to the Muses.<sup>68</sup> He may have chosen them because it seemed wiser (σοφώτερά) to him; Pausanias probably means that the names seemed appropriate (ἐοικότα), as the Lacedaemonian and Athenian names of the Charites are in the author's eyes.<sup>69</sup> Pieros may also have learnt (διδαχθεὶς) these names from the Thracians, whom the author considered an authority in religious matters. And finally, Pausanias evokes the possibility that Pieros established these names because he was instructed to do so by an oracle.

There are cases, however, where the names of the gods remain unknown; Pausanias may have thought that nobody possessed the required expertise and authority and that, for some unspecified reason, no oracle was consulted. In Pallantion, he sees a sanctuary of gods (θεῶν) "whose epiklesis (ἐπίκλησις) is Katharoi ('the Pure')". <sup>70</sup> According to the author's conjecture, they are so called (κληθῆναι) because Pallas, the eponymous hero of the city of Pallantion, sacrificed to them in a pure way, unlike his father Lykaon who sacrificed a newborn to Zeus Lykaios.<sup>71</sup> Pausanias adds that "the names (ὀνόματα) of the gods either they do not know (οὐκ ἴσασιν), or knowing will not divulge". 72

Elsewhere, the author opposes the epiklesis, the collective name of a divine collectivity, and the onomata, the individual names of the deities who are part of this collectivity.<sup>73</sup> At first sight, the plural ὀνόματα suggests that Pausanias is referring to the individual names of the Pure Gods in Pallantion too. But collective names can also be called onomata<sup>74</sup> and the passage makes it clear that the collective name of the gods is also included in the names that may be unknown. When he first refers to the sanctuary, he does not call it "the sanctuary of the Pure Gods", but "the sanctuary of some gods" (θεῶν ἱερόν). It seems that he does not know their precise identity. Neither does the epiklesis say anything about this identity: according to Pausanias, it only testifies

The god's iconography in his sanctuary on the agora of Elis suggests that Sosipolis is conceived as a local and young form of Zeus (Platt 2011, 268–270; Pirenne/Pironti [2016] 2022, 160). However, Pausanias seems to have been unaware of this identification.

Paus. 9.29.3. It is the only case where the author reflects on the naming process when an epiklesis is chosen by a mortal. It is perhaps because, in this case, he feels the need to explain why the names of the Muses were changed.

Paus. 9.35.2: "These are appropriate names for Graces, as are those given by the Athenians". Transl. W.H.S. Jones (LCL).

Paus. 8.44.6.

Paus. 8.2.3.

Transl. W.H.S. Jones (LCL), modified.

Paus. 6.22.7.

Paus. 8.37.5 (Titans); cf. 1.31.4 and 2.11.4, where the verb ὀνομάζω is used.

to the sacrifices offered to them by the hero Pallas. Therefore, when the author opposes (μὲν ... δὲ) the names that are unknown or secret and the epiklesis Katharoi, by which the gods are "called" (κληθῆναι), he seems to imply that "Pure Gods" is not the proper collective name of the gods, but rather a surname, and that their "true" name may be unknown.

Pausanias may have thought that the Pure Gods were a local divine collectivity and that the Pallantians were unable to find out their name. But another possibility is that they were unable to identify to which well-known Panhellenic collectivity they corresponded. The author considers both possibilities when he mentions the altars of "those called Heroes" (Ἡρώων καλουμένων) in Charadra, to be either the Dioscuri, or local heroes (ἐπιχωρίων [. . .] ἡρώων).<sup>75</sup> Likewise, the author writes that, in Amphissa, the inhabitants

celebrate the mysteric rituals of the so-called Children Lords (Ἀνάκτων καλουμένων παίδων). Their accounts as to who of the gods the Children Lords are do not agree; some say they are the Dioscuri, others the Kouretes, and others, who pretend to have fuller knowledge, hold them to be the Cabiri.<sup>76</sup>

According to Pausanias, "Children Lords" is only the name by which the gods are called (καλουμένων) because the inhabitants of Amphissa are unsure about their identity. This may also be how Pausanias interpreted the altars dedicated to "Unknown Gods" (Ἀγνώστων θεῶν), that he sees in Phaleron and Olympia but upon which he does not comment.77

In Phaleron, he refers to them as "the gods who are named Unknown" (θεῶν [. . .] ὀνομαζομένων Ἀγνώστων). Elsewhere, he mentions the Dioscuri, who are "named" (ὀνομάζουσιν) "Great Gods" by the inhabitants of Kephale.<sup>78</sup> Even though Pausanias opposes onoma and epiklesis when commenting on the Pure Gods,79 he still considers "Great Gods", "Pure Gods" or "Unknown Gods" to be names, as the verb ὀνομάζω indicates.80 But he apparently establishes a distinction between names by which the gods

Paus. 10.33.6–7. However, this case is problematic as Pausanias mentions altars in the plural (βωμοί), while he always uses the singular to refer to sanctuaries, temples or an alsos dedicated to the Dioscuri (1.18.1–2; 2.22.5; 2.36.6; 3.14.6; 3.20.2; 7.22.5; 8.21.4). The plural number of gods does not seem to explain the plural βωμοί, and it seems that there was more than one altar. Did Pausanias consider the possibility that the inhabitants of Charadra had one altar for Castor and a separate altar for Polykdeukes?

Paus. 10.38.7. Transl. W.H.S. Jones (LCL), modified.

Paus. 1.1.4 (Phaleron); 5.14.8 (Olympia). On the Unknown Gods, see below.

Paus. 1.31.1.

Cf. 8.37.9, where Pausanias writes that Despoina is the epiklesis of the goddess of Lykosoura but refuses to reveal her onoma.

In the perspective of the MAP project too, "Great Gods", "Pure Gods" or "Unknown Gods" are their names: see Bonnet et al. 2018.

are called, that the humans can give them when their identity is uncertain or unknown,<sup>81</sup> and names that express their identity.

The names of the unidentified collectivities, the individual Muses and Charites and perhaps Sosipolis apparently belong to the category of names given by humans because their "true" name was unknown or uncertain.<sup>82</sup> Does this mean that Pausanias adheres to Socrates' theory according to which all divine names are human conventions that please the gods? It is noteworthy that these examples concern either local deities or collectivities. The names of local deities could not be determined when they manifested themselves for the first time. The Muses and the Charites usually appear as a group and this is why their individual names are unknown.<sup>83</sup> Given that their individual figures are not precisely defined, several divine collectivities with similar characteristics can be mixed up; this explains why, according to Pausanias, the identity of the Pure Gods and the Children Lords is uncertain and why they are called by their epiklesis only. On the other hand, Pausanias never attributes a human origin to the "proper" names of collectivities such as the Dioscuri, Cabiri, Kouretes, Muses or Charites, transmitted from generation to generation from a distant past.84

Likewise, Pausanias never writes that the theonyms of major deities, such as Zeus, Athena, Apollo or Artemis, were chosen by humans. In his work, when they are named by the Greeks, the gods always bear "speaking" names, unlike the "Olympian" gods. Although the sample may be too small to verify this observation, this may not be a coincidence. In Pausanias' perspective, the Greeks would not have given names to the gods that had no meaning or whose meaning they did not understand. Did the author think that those names were created in a very distant past and that their etymology was forgotten with the passing of time?<sup>85</sup> Or could he have thought that they had a divine origin? It is possible that this last hypothesis seemed at least likely in his eyes. According to him, "the men of those days [i.e. the age of heroes], because of their righteousness and piety, were guests (ξένοι) of the gods, eating at the same

Cf. 8.44.5: οὐκ ἴσασιν.

Unless these names were attributed by an oracle, as Pausanias suggests in the case of the Muses.

For instance, since according to Pausanias, the Boeotians did not remember the names Eteocles gave to the individual Charites (9.35.1), they apparently prayed to the three Charites (9.35.3) using only their collective name.

It is true that the collective name (epiklesis) of the Ionides is typologically similar to names that Pausanias sees as human creations, since these Nymphs are named after the hero Ion, as "they say", and not after their own characteristics (Paus. 6.22.7). But the case is not exactly comparable to that of the Muses and the Charites as the author does not write that the individual onomata of these Nymphs were chosen by a mortal. In fact, it is said by Nicander (fr. 74 Gow/Schofield apud Ath. 15.681d and 683a-b) that Ion encountered the Nymphs in the region of Elis: therefore, he would have learnt their names from the goddesses themselves and they were supposedly known by their individual names before they received their collective name.

Cf. 3.15.5 and 8.41.2, where he mentions words used by the Ancients that had disappeared by his time.

board (ὁμοτράπεζοι)". <sup>86</sup> Pausanias also cites local traditions concerning deities visiting human cities.87 Therefore, in the past, the Greeks had the opportunity to learn their names from the gods themselves. Moreover, as we saw earlier, the author acknowledges that some names can be dictated by the gods themselves through oracles, as suggested by the passage about Pieros and the Muses. It seems therefore that Pausanias did not attribute the same origin to all divine names: some "speaking" names were human creations, but the Greeks may have used the "true" names of some other gods, especially in the case of names whose etymology was uncertain.

# 4 Divine Epithets and Theonyms in Other Sources

#### 4.1 Divine Epithets

While Pausanias more often attributes a human than a divine origin to the gods' epithets, the opposite is true when we look at other sources. Two different versions of the foundation myth of a sanctuary may attribute different origins to the deity's name. For example, various sources indicate that the epithet of Apollo Smintheus, who had a sanctuary in the Troad, comes from the word sminthos ("mouse"). Polemo writes that after Apollo put an end to an invasion of mice, Krinis, the priest of the local Apollo, founded a sanctuary dedicated to the god, calling (προσαγορεύσας) him Smintheus.88 The human agency of the priest is highlighted, even though the text does not exclude the possibility that he was simply obeying a divine command. On the other hand, it is said in Aelian that, after the invasion of mice, the inhabitants of the region consulted the oracle of Delphi, which "said that they must sacrifice to Apollo Smintheus". 89

Apart from such texts concerning mythical times, I only know of two sources in which the creation of a divine epithet is attributed to a human. Plutarch tells us that Themistokles "offended the multitude also by building the temple of Artemis, whom he called (προσηγόρευσεν) Aristoboule ('Best Counsellor'), intimating thus that it was he who had given the best counsel to the city and to the Hellenes". <sup>90</sup> In letters to the Coans and to the Iasians, king Eumenes II of Pergamon writes, using the majestic plural, that

we honour Athena above all the other gods on account of the numerous and great successes that she bestowed upon us in every kind of circumstances, and we named (προσηγορεύκαμεν) her

Paus. 8.2.4. Transl. W.H.S. Jones (LCL).

Pirenne–Delforge 2008, 249 and n. 36.

Polemo fr. 31 Preller apud Schol. D. Il. 1.39.

Ael. NA 12.5.

Plu. Them. 22. Transl. B. Perrin (LCL), modified.

"Nikephoros", since we consider this surname ([προσω]νυμίαν) to be the most beautiful (καλλίστην) and most appropriate for her.<sup>91</sup>

On the other hand, oracles can be consulted to determine the name by which a deity should be called in a cultic context. The late 3rd-century–CE prophet of Apollo in Didyma who wants to establish an altar of Kore Soteira asks the god to be an "establisher of customs" (l. 27: νομοθέτην) and to indicate the "laudatory and hymnical appellation" (l. 25–27: τῆς εὐφήμου καὶ ὑ|μνικῆς [. . .] προσαγορεύ|σεως) by which she should be called. Apollo replies that the prophet should celebrate (l. 29: κλῄζωμεν) Soteira as Meilichos ("Mild") "to the music of very holy songs" (l. 29–30: ὑπ' εὐιέροι|σι βοιαῖσι).92 Probably in the same century, a representative of the city of Tralles consults an oracle of Apollo Pythios (in Delphi?) concerning protection against earthquakes, as can be inferred from the fact that the consultant dedicated an altar to Seisichthon ("Earth-Shaker"), that is, Poseidon. After prescribing sacrifices, Apollo commands that the god shall be "called (καλείσθω) Einalios ("Dwelling-in-the-sea"), Temenouchos ("Who-holdsthe-temenos"), Apotropos ("Averter"), Hippios ("Of-horses"), Arges ("Bright")", <sup>93</sup> and orders the city to celebrate him in hymns (l. 12, ὑμνεῖτε). Here, the oracle avoids the epithet Asphaleios which most frequently qualifies Poseidon when he is associated with earthquakes.94 While the epithets Apotropaios (here in the form Apotropos) and Hippios are widely attested, Einalios is rare95 and Arges may be unique. As for Temenouchos, it is not only unique as an epithet,96 but also almost unique as a word; it only appears once in a fragment tentatively attributed to Callimachus97 and can thus be considered a highly learned epithet.

IG XII.4, 251 = DB MAP S#15585, l. 2–8: τὴν Ἀ̣[θηνᾶν μὲν τιμῶμεν] | μάλιστα τῶν ἄλλων θε[ῶν διὰ τὸ πολλὰς καὶ] | μεγάλας ἡμῖν περιτεθε[ικέναι εὐημερίας ἐν] | παντοδαπαῖς περιστάσ[εσιν καιρῶν, Νικηφόρον] | τε προσηγορεύκαμεν, [καλλίστην νομίζον]|τες εἶναι καὶ οἰκειοτάτη[ν αὐτῆι τὴν προσω]|νυμίαν ταύτην; I.Iasos 6 = DB MAP S#16581, l. 17–19. This inscription has puzzled scholars since it is often considered that Athena's epithet was introduced under Eumenes' father and predecessor Attalos I (e.g. Agelidis 2014, 105). However, the reading of the epithet on inscriptions dating to his reign (in particular I.Pergamon I 35 and 52 = DB MAP S#10504 and #11471) is highly uncertain (see Palamidis in preparation b). Moreover, Polybius (16.1.6) mentions the existence of an extra–urban Nikephorion already in 201, under Attalos I (see Rigsby 1996, 364 n. 13), but Filippo Coarelli (2016, 222–234) has convincingly argued that the extra–urban Nikephorion is not the same as the sanctuary of Athena Nikephoros. Therefore, there is no reason to reject Eumenes' claim that he is the one who named Athena.

I.Didyma 504 = DB MAP S#12966, l. 17–31. On gods as nomothetai, see Belayche 2007.

I.Tralleis 1, l. 9–10: καλείσθω | εἰνάλιος, τεμενοῦχος, ἀπότροπος, ἵππιος, ἀργής. On this inscription, see Thély 2016, 226–228.

Thély 2016, in particular 32–33; 218–220; 306 map 3.

Until this day, it appears only once in the MAP database and refers to Thetis (I.Colosse Memnon 62, l. 2 = DB MAP T#4849).

The restoration of the adjective in IG XII.7, 254, l. 1 = DB MAP T#18388 is very dubious (θεῶν τ̣[εμενούχων]).

Apud A.D. Synt. 2.87 (18). On this fragment and its attribution, see Lehnus 1994.

The inscriptions from Didyma and Tralles belong to a period when the practice of singing hymns had become much more important98 and these oracles reflect the concern surrounding choosing the right names for the gods in hymns. But oracular responses in which the gods indicate the names of the deities to be honoured exist in all periods, as attested in particular by the epigraphical evidence. Even though such inscriptions mainly list names of well–known deities, they occasionally demonstrate a great deal of inventiveness. Around 460–450 BCE, according to a fragmentary inscription, Apollo, probably the Delphian god, in an oracle, prescribes sacrifices to the Moirai, Zeus Moiragetes, Ge, and perhaps other deities, to be accomplished by the Athenian genos of the Praxiergidai.99 The inscription does not indicate if these deities were already worshipped together by the genos or if these sacrifices are, in fact, an innovation by the oracle. Much later, Pausanias sees statues of the Moirai, Zeus Moiragetes and Apollo Moiragetes in Delphi,100 and it is not impossible that the god was already honoured with this epithet there in the 5th century. And "since Delphi had a habit of foisting its favourite deities on inquirers", <sup>101</sup> it is possible that Apollo prescribed the introduction of the cult of these deities. Even if Zeus is already associated with the Moirai in Archaic poetry, this is the first attestation of the epithet Moiragetes, not only in Athens but in the whole Greek world.102 Zeus Moiragetes appears in a few other sources starting in the 4th century BCE, but his epithet is attested only seven or eight times throughout antiquity, counting both epigraphical and literary sources. In this case, it is likely that most Athenians had never heard of the epithet and that it appeared as a true divine innovation.

The example of Dionysos Hygiates ("Health-giver") may represent a similar case. Athenaeus, whose source is Mnesitheus of Athens, a 4th-century-BCE physician, writes that the Pythia told some Greeks to honour Dionysos as a physician and to call (καλεῖν) him Hygiates.<sup>103</sup> The word ὑγιάτης is a hapax and divine epithets related to health are rarely built on the word ὑγίεια ("health").<sup>104</sup> The link between Dionysos and health is first attested in Delphi precisely in the 4th century and the god's name is likely to be another Delphic innovation.<sup>105</sup> In Lebadeia, an imperial-era inscription records a dedication to Dionysos Eustaphylos ("Rich-in-grapes") by oracular command

To quote Robertson 2004, 117.


Cf. Belayche 2013, 20–35.

CGRN 24 = DB MAP S#840.

Paus. 10.24.4.

See Lebreton 2013, 253–254 and n. 705 for the sources, to which we should add a 3rd-century-BCE inscription from Atrax (I.Atrax 93 = DB MAP S#16502), and a very uncertain attestation in Eleusis in the Imperial period (I.Eleusis 489 fr. a–b, 56 = DB MAP T#3997). On Zeus Moiragetes in Athens, cf. Lebreton/ Marano in this volume.

Ath. 1.22e; 2.36b.

of Zeus Trophonios.<sup>106</sup> The adjective εὐστάφυλος is a hapax in epigraphy and is only attested seven times in literary sources.<sup>107</sup> It appears twice in Nonnos' Dionysiaca,<sup>108</sup> in the 5th century CE, but does not designate Dionysos himself. In a 5th or 6th-century papyrus, a fragmentary address to the Nile apparently inspired by Nonnos' work mentions "Dionysos in Naxos rich in grapes (ἐϋσταφύλωι)". <sup>109</sup> Even if the adjective appears in a Dionysiac context in late Antiquity, it is only ever attested as an epithet of Dionysos in the dedication from Lebadeia.

Although oracular prescriptions generally show little originality, these examples suggest that, in the eyes of the Greeks, such oracles not only told them which gods to worship among a set of deities already known to them, but also could establish divine epithets that were hitherto unknown. The Greeks would not have considered the gods mere imitators of mortals when it came to attributing such names and it is likely that, according to them, most divine epithets that were traditionally used in their cities had also been revealed by oracles in a distant past.

As we saw earlier, in myths, the choice of an epithet can be attributed to a mortal, but it is usually someone with special authority. In the case of Apollo Smintheus, it is the local priest of Apollo; in the examples cited by Pausanias, heroes such as Herakles or Theseus. On the other hand, humans in the historical period very seldom took credit for the invention of a new epithet; the choice is more frequently attributed to an oracle. This may be a matter of authority too. Eumenes has the authority of a king, but he also justifies the choice of the name Nikephoros ("Victory-Bringer") for Athena: it is most appropriate (οἰκειοτάτην) – since the goddess helped the Attalids win many wars – and most beautiful (καλλίστην), so that it would please Athena. On the other hand, Themistokles gave Artemis a name which was not appropriate as it served only his own political agenda and he lacked enough authority to have it accepted by his fellow Athenians. The appeal to a higher authority, that of the oracle, would have prevented such debates about the appropriateness of names.

#### 4.2 Divine Epiphanies

At the same time, it appears that the Greeks did not appeal to a divine authority when it came to the names of the gods who manifested themselves.110 Accounts of mortals who witness an epiphany without recognising the deity are mostly restricted to poetic

IG VII 3098 = DB MAP S#15772: Διονύσῳ Εὐσταφύλῳ | κατὰ χρησμὸν Διὸς | Τροφωνίου.

As indicated by a search in the TLG.

Nonn. D. 12.334 and 357.

APHex I, 43.7: Διόνυσσον ἐϋσταφύλωι ἐνὶ Νάξωι.

On epiphanies, see in particular Platt 2011; Petridou 2016; Lipka 2022.

texts or mythical accounts.<sup>111</sup> Among the rare exceptions, the story of Ptolemy who fails to recognise that it is Sarapis who appears to him in his dreams has been shown to be an invention of the imperial period that draws on Graeco-Roman and Egyptian literary topoi. <sup>112</sup> On the other hand, most of our sources that concern "historical" epiphanies do not give any indication as to how the deity is recognised. When Zeus appeared to a certain Dionysios in Lydia in the Hellenistic or Imperial period,113 how did the dreamer know that the god wanted to be honoured with the epithet Eumenes, which is only attested as an epithet for Zeus in Selinous in the 5th century BCE and in Tralles in the Hellenistic and Imperial period?114

Some epiphanies consist in natural phenomena interpreted as divine signs, such as a storm, an earthquake or a dream; the historicity of others is doubtful or clearly excluded. Whatever the case, these accounts of epiphanies never try to justify the identification of the deity. When the epiphany is supposed to have been witnessed by a group,115 all witnesses are presented as unanimous and our sources never mention any debate concerning the deity's identity. But gods manifest themselves more frequently to single individuals.<sup>116</sup> When the epiphany concerns a whole city, the deities always manifest themselves to an authority figure, such as a priest or a priestess, a magistrate or a general.117 But as we saw with the case of divine epithets, the authority of the gods is almost always preferred to the authority of a mortal. Thus, when the epiphany is used by a city as an argument to support the claims to certain privileges for the deity's sanctuary – as in the case of Artemis Leukophryene in Magnesia-on-the -Maeander –, <sup>118</sup> we would expect the validation of an oracle to strengthen the city's case. Yet oracles are never consulted to indicate or confirm the identity and name of a god after an epiphany.<sup>119</sup> When oracles are mentioned, it is only to ask what the


Cf. Lipka 2022 on the differences in the representation of epiphany according to the type of sources, and especially between "poetic" and "historical" epiphanies.

Tac. Hist. 4.83–84; Plu. Isis and Osiris 28 (Mor. 362A). See Borgeaud/Volokhine 2000; Barat 2010.

TAM V 3, 1539, in particular l. 2–12 = BD MAP T#15464. Cf. de Hoz 2017.

Selinous: CGRN 13, A l. 8 = DB MAP T#2464. Tralles: I.Tralleis 23, l. 29; I.Tralleis 8; cf. Daubner 2008, 177–180 for a mention of a 3rd-century–BCE coin from Tralles bearing the epithet, and a discussion about its meaning. On dream epiphanies, see Platt 2011, chap. 6; Petridou 2016, passim; Koch Piettre 2020.

On collective epiphanies, see Graf 2004.

Petridou 2016, 343.

In the books by Platt, Petridou and Lipka about epiphanies (Platt 2011; Petridou 2016; Lipka 2022), I only found three mentions of oracles revealing a name after an epiphany. But two cases concern heroes and not gods (Paus. 1.32.5 and 1.36.1: Echethralios and Kychreus). In the third example (Suid. s.v. Μέλαν [M 451]), after the daughters of Eleuther see an epiphany of Dionysos, an oracle commands to honour Dionysos Melanaigis. But the oracle is not consulted by the daughters who witnessed the epiphany and who are driven mad, but by their father who seeks the cause of their madness and is probably unaware that his daughters saw the god.

epiphany of the already identified deity means.120 Therefore, all our sources seem to imply that when a god manifests himself, his identity and name are obvious and need neither to be debated nor to receive divine confirmation.

This is easy to explain for deities already honoured in a specific place. For example, the goddess who appears in dreams to Lindian priests or magistrates in the socalled "Lindian Chronicle" <sup>121</sup> is obviously the main goddess of Lindos, Athena Lindia. But what about cases when the deity's epithet is new? In dream epiphanies, the epithet of the deity can be revealed through direct speech. For instance, Aelius Aristides saw himself calling Asklepios "Moironomos" ("Dispenser of fate") while, on another occasion, a dream came to him from Dionysos, "advising to address (προσειπεῖν) the god as 'Oulokomes' ('With curly hair')". <sup>122</sup> At the same time, dreamers often recognise the persons who appear in their dreams because they "just know" who they are, even if their appearance is different.<sup>123</sup> In a similar way, it is possible that gods appearing in dreams were recognised because the dreamer "just knew" who they were.124

In Hellenistic inscriptions, the word epiphaneia used to refer to a divine manifestation allows for emphasis of the deity's will to appear, unlike a word like opsis ("vision"), which highlights the viewer's experience.<sup>125</sup> Moreover, in some inscriptions, divine epiphanies are described using the adjective enarges or the noun enargeia. 126 The adjective first appears in the Homeric epics, where it indicates that the gods are clearly visible and that they have already been recognised as gods.127 Thus, when the epiphanies are described as enargeis, this may imply that the gods choose to manifest themselves leaving no doubts about their divine nature. They reveal themselves and this revelation may also include their precise identity. How exactly did the witnesses of epiphanies know for certain that they had seen a divine manifestation and which deity was concerned? The Greeks perhaps considered that it was possible to "just know" who the deity was, just as they may have "just known" the identity of a person or god seen in a dream.

For instance, in the inscription I.Magnesia 215a = DB MAP S#9289, the Magnesians ask the oracle in Delphi what they should do after Dionysos manifested himself in the form of a statue. When Artemis Leukophryene manifests herself, the oracle of Delphi prescribes the enhancement of her honours and the inviolability of their territory (e.g. I.Magnesia 16 = DB MAP S#9469, l. 1–10).

I.Lindos 2 = DB MAP S#7317.

Aristid. Sacred Tales 2 (Or. 48), 31; 4 (Or. 50), 40.

According to recent studies, such cases may represent from about 15% to almost 45% of all cases where a character is recognised by name in a dream: Skrzypińska/Słodka 2014; Kahn et al. 2000.

It is also possible to recognise the deity not during the dream but when one wakes up. See the Chinese account of a dream epiphany cited by Jim in this volume (p. 71): the dreamer encountered "a white–bearded old man", then he "woke up and knew that the old man was Hu Taigong".

As noted by Platt 2011, 150.

Chaniotis 2013, 176–177.

Piettre 1999; Brouillet 2016, 33–37.

Peter Struck has recently proposed linking divination with "surplus knowledge", that is, the things we know without knowing how we know them – something similar to what we would nowadays call "intuition". <sup>128</sup> In particular, one way of "just knowing" something is through divine inspiration. This is made clear by Hesiod when he insists that he has no experience in seafaring and yet is able to teach about navigation and Zeus' will concerning navigation, because the Muses taught (ἐδίδαξαν) him.<sup>129</sup> Plato, in his Laws, suggests that when it comes to the gods, their sanctuaries and the name of their sanctuaries, three main authorities are recognised: oracles, "visions" (φασμάτων) – that is probably epiphanies<sup>130</sup> –, and divine inspiration (ἐπιπνοίας).<sup>131</sup> The author seems to distinguish between epiphanies and inspiration, but they are explicitly associated in the case of poetic inspiration,132 and also in a decree concerning the festival for Artemis Leukophryene in Magnesia-on-the-Maeander. The text mentions the "divine inspiration (ἐπιπνοίας, literally 'breathing upon') and manifestation" of the goddess.133 Here, the inspiration does not concern the name of Artemis Leukophryene, which was already known. But in other cases, it is their names that the gods may have revealed by inspiration when they manifested themselves through epiphany – a form of unsolicited divination –, just as they could teach their name by inspiration in their oracular sanctuaries.<sup>134</sup> If the name is thought to have been dictated through divine inspiration, then it is already validated by the highest possible authority; this may explain why the word of the witnesses of epiphanies is never questioned and why oracles are never consulted.

The few altars dedicated to "Unknown Gods" (ἄγνωστοι θεοί) in the Imperial period, mainly in Athens,<sup>135</sup> may constitute exceptions to the rule according to which gods reveal their identity when they manifest themselves. According to the most wide-

See Petridou 2016, chap. 4.

Struck 2016, chap. 1.

Hes. Op. 648–662.

On the meaning of phasma, see Petridou 2016, 64–71; Koch Piettre 2020, 75–78; Lipka 2022, 196–197.

Pl. Lg. 5.738c.

CGRN 200 = DB MAP S#9356, l. 12: θείας ἐπιπνοίας καὶ παραστάσεως.

Cf. Kindt 2018, who shows that epiphanies and inspired divination work in similar ways.

Paus. 1.1.4 and Poll. 8.118–119 (Phaleron); Philostr. VA 6.3.5 and Act.Ap. 17.23 (Athens); Pausanias (5.14.8) also saw an altar dedicated to the Unknown Gods in Olympia. Could it be an Athenian dedication? As for the restoration Θεοῖς ἀγν̣[ώστοις] in a Pergamene inscription (Hepding 1910, 454–457 no. 39 = DB MAP S#15401), it is highly uncertain. The reading ἁγιωτάτοις seems excluded because the fourth letter can hardly be an omega, as recognised by Hepding and confirmed by a better photograph (https://arachne.dainst.org/entity/421242/image/421242, Arachne ID 421242, consulted on 2023/02/25). van der Horst 1988, 26 also argued against the reading ἁγνοτάτοις, because the epithet is too rare. But in the Imperial period, the superlative of ἁγνός qualifies Athena in Delphi (F.Delphes III.2, 106), Artemis in Sidyma (Steinepigramme 17/08/01, 79–80) and Leto in Egypt (I.Egypte Nubie Louvre 36, 7 = DB MAP T#2876). Thus, it is more frequent than ἄγνωστος, which is never attested in epigraphy.

spread interpretation, the function of these altars is to ensure that no deity is neglected.136 However, the Unknown Gods of Phaleron – whose altar Pausanias saw –<sup>137</sup> were the Argive heroes returning from Troy who were slain by Demophon, as Hesychios writes.138 Pollux adds that the Argives were killed by mistake by the Athenians who failed to recognise them and that in accordance with an oracle, "they were called Unknown" (ἀγνῶτες προσηγορεύθησαν).139 This story is already mentioned by the 4thcentury-BCE writer Phanodemos, but in this fragment, the Argives are not called Unknown Gods.<sup>140</sup> It also appears in Pausanias, who does not establish a connection between these Argives and the altar of Unknown Gods mentioned earlier in his text.<sup>141</sup> It seems therefore likely that the tradition linking the altar and the heroes returning from Troy only emerged in the Imperial period to explain the existence of a cult dedicated to Unknown Gods.

Nevertheless, the passages by Pollux and Hesychios, as well as the fact that Pausanias calls them "the Gods named Unknown" (θεῶν [. . .] ὀνομαζομένων Ἀγνώστων), suggest that the Unknown Gods of Phaleron were perceived as a specific divine collectivity rather than the sum of all unknown gods. The myth concerning the Argive heroes also underlines the problem of recognition as they were slain because they were not recognised. Therefore, the "Unknown Gods" were probably particular deities who manifested themselves without being recognised.<sup>142</sup>

In Philostratos' Life of Apollonios of Tyana, the eponymous philosopher advises not to "be at variance with any one of the gods (ὁντιναδὴ τῶν θεῶν)", not even Aphrodite, but rather to "speak well of all the gods (πάντων θεῶν)"; as an example of piety, he cites the Athenians who have "altars of unknown daimones" (ἀγνώστων δαιμόνων βωμοὶ).143 Here, as the context indicates, the author is not recommending that all gods be honoured collectively so that none is forgotten; he rather advises not to scorn any god, no matter who it is and even if their name is unknown. The fact that he calls them daimones and not "gods", theoi, may support this hypothesis. In Greek, the two words can act as quasi-synonyms, but daimon is used specifically to denote a manifestation on earth of the power of a deity, that is not always recognisable.144 In the Life

See in particular the discussion in van der Horst 1988; Henrichs 1994, 28–36; Ackermann 2010, 95–103.

Paus. 1.1.4.

Hsch. s.v. ἀγνῶτες θεοί (Α 682).

Poll. 8.118–119.

BNJ 325 F 16.

Paus. 1.28.9 (Argives); 1.1.4 (altars of the Unknown Gods).

In some cases, ἄγνωστος can mean "unrecognised", as in a passage of the Odyssey (2.174–176) concerning the return to Ithaca of Odysseus, "unrecognised by all" (ἄγνωστον πάντεσσιν) after twenty years of absence. Cf. among other examples Paus. 5.17.11 (where ἄγνωστος can be translated as "unrecognisable").

Philostr. VA 6.3.5.

Pirenne–Delforge forthcoming.

of Apollonios of Tyana too, when it does not refer to a demon, the word is used to indicate the earthly manifestations of the gods, identified or unidentified,<sup>145</sup> while it is always the word theos that is used when humans honour the gods or discuss them.<sup>146</sup> Therefore, the unknown daimones honoured in Athens may be deities who manifested themselves on a certain occasion but were not recognised by the Athenians. At the beginning of his Life of Apollonios of Tyana, Philostratos writes that various deities manifested themselves to Pythagoras, including Apollo, who revealed his identity, and other deities who did not, such as Athena, the Muses, and "other gods, whose appearance (εἴδη) and names (ὀνόματα) the humans did not know (γιγνώσκειν) yet". <sup>147</sup> The text implies that Pythagoras was able to recognise Athena and the Muses even though they concealed their identity; however, unlike the philosopher who had a special relationship with the gods, the Athenians may have witnessed divine epiphanies without recognising the deities' identity, but the fact that they still honoured them is good evidence of their piety, according to Philostratos.

The author mentions altars of Unknown daimones in the plural (βωμοὶ). There were possibly several altars dedicated to unknown gods in the city. He may have specifically had in mind the altar in Phaleron, but also the altar of the "Unknown God" (ἀγνώστῳ θεῶ) mentioned by Paul in Luke's Acts of the Apostles.<sup>148</sup> In this speech, Paul argues that the god who is unknown to the Athenians is actually the Christian God. By comparison with the other sources concerning such altars, some scholars have suggested that the author was in actual fact referring not to an altar dedicated to a single Unknown God, but rather to Unknown Gods in the plural.149 But if no altar dedicated to an Unknown God in the singular existed, Paul's argumentation would have been considerably weakened, and although we cannot rule out Luke having been mistaken, if he did not see the altar himself, such a correction is absolutely not necessary. The fact that some altars were dedicated to Unknown Gods in the plural does not exclude the possibility that others were dedicated to an Unknown God in the singular.150 If such an altar really existed in Athens, this supports the idea that such dedications were not addressed to the sum of all unknown gods but to some particu-

Philostr. VA 1.4; 1.18; 1.19.2; 2.19.1; 6.26.2.

E.g. Philostr. VA 1.1.1; 1.2.3; 1.10.1; 1.12.1; 1.16.3; 1.25.3; 1.32.2. The exception is 6.20.5, where the word daimon is used to refer to a foreign deity.

Philostr. VA 1.1.2. Cf. also 6.11.6.

Act.Ap. 17.23.

E.g. Henrichs 1994, 31–32; Ackermann 2010, 97–98.

Cf. van der Horst 1988, 42. Likewise, when Jerome corrects Paul, saying that the Athenian altar was not dedicated to an Unknown God, but to "the gods of Asia and Europe and Africa, the unknown and foreign gods (diis ignotis et peregrinis)" (Ad. Tit. 1.12, ed. Bucchi p. 30, l. 668–668), it is not excluded that such an altar really existed, but it does not follow that the altars simply dedicated to Unknown Gods were addressed to foreign gods too.

lar deity or deities who manifested themselves without being recognised.<sup>151</sup> If the Greeks witnessed a divine sign, they may have attributed it to an unknown god in the singular or to unknown gods in the plural, according to the cases; the plural perhaps expresses incertitude about the number152 and gender of the deities.

If this interpretation of the altars is correct, it suggests that, exceptionally, the gods had chosen not to reveal their identity. The dedicants of the altars may have thought that they were well-known gods who had not been recognised, or new deities whose name was completely unknown.153 But why did they not consult oracles to find out the identity of these gods, as could be expected? Is this a naming strategy intended to underline the limits of human knowledge? Unfortunately, we do not know any more about these altars and the possibility that they emerged in a philosophical context cannot be excluded. However, Pollux indicates that an oracle was in fact consulted and that the people of Phaleron were ordered to call the deities "Unknown Gods". <sup>154</sup> Even though his account concerns the Argive heroes honoured as "Unknown Gods" and is clearly a later reconstruction, it is possible that an oracle was indeed consulted. If so, the choice of the name is coherent with the idea according to which gods usually reveal their identity and name when they manifest themselves: if, exceptionally, a deity chooses not to do so during an epiphany, oracles can be expected to respect this refusal, the name of the deity remaining unknown. But the fact that such altars dedicated to Unknown Gods are exceptional, as they are only attested in Athens and Olympia, seems to confirm that, most of the time, the gods who manifested themselves were easily recognised.

Diogenes Laertius (1.10.110) also mentions "anonymous altars" (βωμοὺς ἀνωνύμους) that still existed up to his time and that were allegedly founded by Epimenides, the archaic Sage whose biography is clearly marvellous (BNJ 457 T 1). It is unlikely that the author is simply referring to uninscribed altars, since such altars were common in Greek sanctuaries (Henrichs 1994, 35–37; Mylonopoulos 2019, 234–235). They have been variously interpreted as dedications to the Semnai Theai, called "anonymous goddesses" by Euripides (Henrichs 1994, 37–39 with references; Johnston 1999, 279–281), as altars simply bearing a dedication θεῷ, "to a god" (van der Horst 1988, 23), or as the same altars dedicated to Unknown Gods mentioned by other sources (Ackermann 2010, 99 and n. 46). If this latter hypothesis is correct, it is noteworthy that these altars are described as "memorials" (ὑπόμνημα) of the propitiation that was achieved by making sacrifices in various places to "the related god" (τῷ προσήκοντι θεῷ), in the singular.

Cf. Polinskaya 2013, 80.

Cf. above about Pausanias on the Pure Gods and the Children Kings.

Poll. 8.118–119.

#### 4.3 Theonyms

It is noteworthy that the dedicants of these altars did not create a name for these unknown deities, whatever the reason.<sup>155</sup> But it does not mean that attributing a theonym to a deity is a prerogative of the gods. As we saw above, Pausanias writes that it is the Eleans who gave (τίθενται) Sosipolis his name.<sup>156</sup> Although the author does not seem to rule out the possibility that an oracle was consulted, the phrasing suggests that there was no unwritten norm prohibiting the mortals from attributing a theonym to a deity. In fact, the problem probably never presented itself as the Greeks first encountered most of their deities in a distant past. When new cults were introduced, they never concerned deities that were completely unknown to humanity, but rather gods worshipped by other peoples (such as Isis or Sarapis whose cult came from Egypt) or other cities (like Asklepios, welcomed to Athens at the end of the 5th century BCE).157 Sosipolis is probably a local version of Zeus,158 who is also called Zeus Sosipolis in Magnesia-on-the-Maeander.<sup>159</sup> Glykon, whose cult is well-attested by various sources,<sup>160</sup> may represent a similar case. According to Lucian, it is a false god created by a false prophet, Alexander of Abonoteichos. However, the author does not present Glykon as an entirely new deity, but as a form of Asklepios: at first, an oracle of Apollo announces the arrival of Asklepios in Abonoteichos and the god is called Asklepios more than once.<sup>161</sup> However, it is said that he is born twice, once as Asklepios and once as Glykon, he calls himself "the New Asklepios" (Ἀσκληπιὸς νέος) and he refuses to reveal if he is the same god as Asklepios or a different one.162 Our few external sources do not allow us to verify whether Glykon was indeed seen as a form of Asklepios or if Lucian is only ironising about the cult's lack of originality.

Whatever the case, it is noteworthy that, according to the author, the name Glykon was attributed to the god by divine command (θείου προστάγματος), the god having revealed his name through the mouth of his prophet Alexander.<sup>163</sup> Is this simply a matter of authority, one of Alexander's tricks addressed to the gullible crowd, according to Lucian, or does it also suggest that divine names were normally conceived as having a divine origin? Outside poetry, philosophical texts or Herodotus' Histories, it is difficult to find sources concerning the origin of the theonyms that were already known in a distant past. As we saw, Pausanias writes that the individual names of the


If we consider the name "Unknown Gods" to be a mere substitute for their "true" name, as Pausanias probably did: see above.

Paus. 6.20.4–5.

On the introduction of new cults, see Garland 1992; Parker 2011, 273–277; Anderson 2015.

See above, n. 67.

Muses and the Charites were attributed by mortals, but he raises the possibility that they were given by command of an oracle and he never writes that their collective names were also chosen by mortals. I do not know of any other source attributing a human origin to any divine name, let alone to all divine names.

Most Greeks probably never wondered where theonyms that were transmitted from generation to generation came from. However, given the important impact of the poetry of Homer and Hesiod on Greek representations of the divine, they may have taken for granted that the gods used these names themselves. If, like Pausanias, they believed that the gods interacted with some mortals in the heroic age, they would probably have considered that the Greeks could have learnt the names of the gods during such interactions. Moreover, if they thought that the oracles were able to prescribe divine epithets, there is no reason why they could not have also revealed the theonyms of the major Greek deities in a distant past.

On the other hand, it has been suggested that the idea according to which divine names cannot be known was widespread in Antiquity. In a few ancient texts, a deity is addressed using a formula such as "if you like to be called (by this name)", <sup>164</sup> and some scholars have argued that this reflects a common concern of the Greeks.<sup>165</sup> However, such a formula is only found in a handful of tragedies, hymns and philosophical texts.166 We can perhaps recognise a philosophical influence in all these passages. For instance, the hymn to "Zeus, whoever he may be, if it pleases him to be so called (κεκλημένῳ)" in Aeschylus' Agamemnon<sup>167</sup> may have been influenced by Xenophanes' views on the unknowability of the divine.168 Even if we accept that the formula was more widespread than it appears to be in our sources and that it was a common concern, it does not follow that the Greeks were unsure whether the divine names they used were correct or if they were displeasing the gods. Greek deities were characterised by their polyonymia, their multiple names. Thus, whether it was actually used in prayer or it was only a literary topos, this formula may rather indicate the speaker seeking to choose the precise name that will please the deity most in a specific context.169 At the same time, such a formula can be understood as a way to glorify the god.<sup>170</sup> The same effects are achieved by Aelius Aristides when he praises Zeus in a hymn by listing some of his epithets, "all these great names (ὀνόματα) that he himself invented (αὐτὸς εὗρε) and that are suiting (πρέποντα) for him". <sup>171</sup> They are rhetorical devices and they do not allow us to draw general conclusions about the origin of divine names.

Pulleyn 1997, 103–105. On philosophical occurrences of the formula, see Rowett 2013.

Versnel 2011, 49–52; Rowett 2013.

Pulleyn 1997, 101–102.

A. Ag. 160–161. Transl. A.H. Sommerstein (LCL).

Pinel Martínez 2020, 283.

Versnel 2011, 49–57; Herrero de Jáuregui in this volume.

See Pulleyn 1997, 100–107.

Aristid. Or. 43 (Hymn to Zeus), 30. On divine names in rhetorical texts, see Pernot 2005.

If most Greeks thought that divine names came from the gods themselves, how can this idea be reconciled with the practice of interpretatio? Why do the gods have different names in different languages? First of all, as we saw with Herodotus, the different names of a deity in various languages were sometimes thought to be different versions of the same name. A second point to be noted is the heterogeneity of Greek views on the names of foreign gods. Not all of our sources consider the gods honoured by different peoples to be the same as the Greek gods but with different names. Some instead see them as equivalent to, but distinct from Greek gods,<sup>172</sup> in which case their different names in different languages are easy to explain.

Likewise, we should not expect all Greeks to have similar ideas concerning the origin of divine names. Even if some people only considered divine names to be fitting names that pleased the gods, as Socrates does in the Cratylus, there is little doubt that a great number of Greeks thought that they were actually used by the gods themselves. Among our literary sources, reflecting the views of an educated elite, Socrates' hypothesis was not unanimously accepted, as Pausanias' example suggests. Even some Late Antique philosophers known as Neoplatonists attributed a divine origin to divine names.173

### 5 Conclusion

Although Socrates' claim that divine names are human creations that please the gods has attracted a lot of attention from scholars, there is nothing to suggest that it reflects the views of most Greeks, including "intellectuals". If the Greeks asked themselves about the origin of divine names, they may have perceived them as names revealed by the gods themselves, through oracles or epiphanies, to either the Greeks or foreign peoples; they may have thought that they had been created by a person of authority with or without a particular expertise, with or without validation by an oracle; they may also have seen them as human creations inspired by the deities; or mere conventions that pleased the gods; or they may have considered these names to be so ancient that it was impossible to know anything about their origin. There is no unique answer; the same individual may have attributed different origins to different names.

However, we should perhaps establish a distinction between epithets and theonyms. While the epithets were more often dictated by the gods themselves, whose authority was greatest, they could also be created by humans, especially in the mythical past. On the other hand, there is no indication that the Greeks – except for some philosophers – ever perceived a theonym to be a human creation. The majority of them would most probably have taken for granted that these were the "true" names of the

Parker 2017, 52–64.

van den Berg 2006.

gods as suggested by Homer and Hesiod. In this sense, divine names should probably be seen as signs, revealed by the gods.174 Just like any sign sent from the deities, they had to be decoded, and in the eyes of the Greeks, this might have explained why the meaning of some theonyms was obscure and debatable. If so, it is not surprising that etymological enquiries on divine names were so important throughout antiquity.175

# Bibliography


Borgeaud, Philippe (1996), "Manières grecques de nommer les dieux", in: Colloquium Helveticum 23, 19–36.

On the notion of revelation applied to Greek polytheism, see Bonnechere/Pirenne–Delforge 2019, 73–79.

See Padovani in this volume.


Palamidis, Alaya (forthcoming), "Οὐνόματα and ἐπωνυμίαι. Knowledge of Divine Names in Herodotus".

Palamidis, Alaya (in preparation a), "Le vocabulaire des noms divins chez Pausanias".


Petsalis-Diomidis, Alexia (2010), Truly Beyond Wonders. Aelius Aristides and the Cult of Asklepios, Oxford.

Piettre, Renée (1999), "Les dieux crèvent les yeux : l'enargeia dans la représentation du divin", in:

Dominique Mulliez (ed.), La transmission de l'image dans l'Antiquité (Ateliers 21), Lille, 11–21.


Pulleyn, Simon (1997), Prayer in Greek Religion (Oxford Classical Monographs), Oxford.


Semenzato, Camille (2017), À l'écoute des Muses en Grèce archaïque. La question de l'inspiration dans la poésie grecque à l'aube de notre civilisation (MythosEikonPoiesis 9), Berlin.


Vamvouri Ruffy, Maria (2019), "Couronnes de lierre et de fleurs au banquet: Dionysos médecin et le Péan de Philodème", in: Ariadni Gartziou-Tatti / Athanassia Zografou (eds.), Des dieux et des plantes. Monde végétal et religion en Grèce ancienne (Kernos. Supplément 34), Liège, 249–260.

Versnel, H.S. (2011), Coping with the Gods. Wayward Readings in Greek Theology (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 173), Leiden.

# Francesco Padovani "If by This Name it Pleases Him to be Invoked": Ancient Etymology and Greek Polytheism

Abstract: Is the etymological interpretation of divine names a good way to get to know the divine according to the perspective developed by a Greek intellectual elite (poets, orators, grammarians, philosophers) throughout the centuries? Applying etymology to divine names discloses a dynamic and relational approach to the divine figures within Greek polytheism. It underlines, on the one hand, the decoding of multiplicity in a unitarian direction and, on the other hand, the functionalisation of the divine figures according to the (literary, ritual, performative, local, historical) context. This chapter provides a theoretical overview of possible intersections between ancient etymology and Greek polytheism, corroborated by concrete examples from literary and philosophical texts. It is structured around three main topics: the mutual χάρις between gods and men, the exploitation of onomastic ambiguity and the intersection between etymology and interculturality.

# 1 Introduction

Is the etymological interpretation of the divine names a way of getting to know the divine, according to the perspective developed by a Greek intellectual elite1 (poets, orators, grammarians, philosophers) throughout the centuries? The recent scholarly debate has shown how deeply etymology helps understand the way the Greeks shaped their relation with the world through a metalinguistic process – a reflexion upon language conducted through language.<sup>2</sup> In particular, the application of etymology to the divine names discloses a dynamic and relational approach to the divine figures within Greek polytheism: the relationship with the divine takes place in the name itself, since it is supposed to designate the gods to which the human beings appeal, conventionally or in

The etymological interpretation of the divine names was also practised by the Egyptians and the Romans. About the Near East see Myerston 2013.

In the last decades, many efforts have been made to define properly the ancient etymological practice; on the theoretical side see Pisani 1975, Dawson 1992, Herbermann 1981, Herbermann 1996, Herbermann 1998, Buridant 1998, Belardi 2002, and Del Bello 2007; on the etymological practice in literary contexts, see Arrighetti 1987; Tsitsibakou-Vasalos 1998, Tsitsibakou-Vasalos 2000, Tsitsibakou-Vasalos 2001, Tsitsibakou-Vasalos 2003 and Tsitsibakou-Vasalos 2007; Nifadopoulos 2003. See also the workin–progress started with Zucker/Le Feuvre 2021.

virtue of a direct divine inspiration.3 The accumulation of denominations is peculiar for Greek polytheism, taking into account the uncertainty that characterises the gods' will and identity. The resort to etymology within theological discourses in poetry or prose underlines actually, on the one side, the decoding of multiplicity in a unitarian direction, and on the other side, the functionalisation of the divine figures according to the (literary, ritual, performative, local, historical) context. Thus, the etymological interpretation of the divine names can alter the perception of the gods' identities, insofar as it basically provides a motivation or a justification for their denominations, which can be further corroborated by the resort to myth, cult practice and rational explanation. Thus, the question "What's in a divine name?" requires that the mutual exchange between the etymological method and its context is taken into account. Since the idea of connecting this practice with Greek religion seemed to me far from unequivocal from the get-go, I have also evaluated the two main risks implied in this approach: on the one side, to overestimate the impact of the etymological interpretation upon the actual cult practice; on the other, to limit the etymological practice to philosophy and abstract thinking, even if it is Plato who in the Cratylus provides etymology with its theoretical framework. Thus, this chapter constitutes an experimental inquiry, in order to find the limits of etymological interpretation as a tool for getting to know the divine within Greek polytheism.

# 2 Dealing with Uncertainty

#### 2.1 Etymology and "Belief"

According to the Greeks,<sup>4</sup> a correct understanding and application of the divine denominations in ritual prayers provides an extraordinary source for getting in touch with the gods and receiving benefits from them. On the contrary, as Xenophon explains, the invocation by a wrong appellative, which leads to a wrong ritual, can imply negative effects against human expectations.5 Thus, since its very first application in this field, etymology is a tool for dealing with the uncertainty about the correct divine denominations. In absence of a written revelation, the interpretation of the divine names offers a plausible narrative about the divine,<sup>6</sup> alongside myth and rituals,

See Palamidis in this volume. In the antiquity the thesis of the natural correctness of the names abundantly prevails over the conventional position; see Padovani 2018, 35–38, with further bibliography.

In accordance with Harrison 2015, a comprehensive conception of belief should consider the feelings connected with the participation in a shared configuration of the sacred, as well as the analysis of the formal structure of ancient polytheism. See also Parker 2011, 11–12.

X. An. 7.8.1–6, with the comment of Pulleyn 1997, 98.

For instance, it was conjectured that the name Αὐξησία, clearly connected to the function of the goddess of agricultural growth (from αὐξάνω) could have replaced a more ancient denomination (Danielsson 1896).

and in this sense they are all "integral to religion". <sup>7</sup> Like myths, the different etymological explanations can replace each other according to the tradition they refer to or the context they are related to, since their role is not primarily to rationalise the divine figures, but to create a dynamic theological view within the uncertain space set between tradition and innovation, as the well-known case of the name of Aphrodite shows from Hesiod onwards.8 Hesiod answers to theological uncertainty by resorting to etymology, the limits of human denomination notwithstanding, in order to satisfy both the mortals' desire for knowledge and the gods' wish to be pleased;<sup>9</sup> from this consensus he derives a relational configuration of the divine, which complies with the cults' pragmatic need for stability ("they call the god by this name, because . . . "), but also shapes a dynamic theology, according to which the denominations are flexible containers for a multifaceted content.

The desire to build a positive relation with the gods never fades from the Greek etymological practice. The name of Zeus, which was interpreted by Hesiod in a cosmogonic sense, as if the god (acc. Δία) was the one through whom (ὅν τε διὰ) the whole of reality took its shape,10 was at the centre of an intense etymological concern. The Hesiodic interpretation had good fortune, particularly (but not only) among the philosophers;<sup>11</sup> centuries later, it was developed by the pious rhetor Aelius Aristides in his Hymn to Zeus. The context is that of a eulogy, which is intended not only to entertain Aristides' audience, but also to please the god, through the recurse to the traditional etymology of his name: "all things come and have come into being because of him" (δι'αὐτόν).12 The desire to appeal to the gods correctly, which is reflected in the usage of traditional etymologies, spreads mostly from the uncertainty about the possibility of establishing a positive connection with them as they actually are, which is unknowable, as it is shown in the so-called "hymn to Zeus" in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. The "hymn" could barely have been employed within official rituals,13 but it highlights in a literary refined formulation the concern about the right invocation to be dedicated to the mightiest god: Ζεὺς ὅστις ποτ' ἐστίν, εἰ τόδ' αὐ-/τῶι φίλον κεκλημένωι, / τοῦτό νιν προσεννέπω. <sup>14</sup> Greek tragedy constitutes a space for the negotiation of the

Aristid. Or. 43.23 (transl. Behr). See Goeken 2005.

Parker 2011, 29.

Hes. Th. 188–202; see Pironti 2005.

Hes. Th. 197.

Hes. Op. 2–4.

Pl. Cra. 396b; Chrysipp. SVF ii p. 312; A. Ag. 1485.

At variance with the opinion of Fränkel 1982<sup>5</sup> , 99 ("the formula itself is traditional"), influenced by the study of Norden 1913, see the more cautious explanation by Medda 2017, I, 56 (with further bibliography).

A. Ag. 160–2: "Zeus, whoever he may be – if by this name it pleases him to be invoked, by this name I call to him" (transl. H.W. Smyth).

perception of the divine within the community of the polis, <sup>15</sup> and represents on the stage, in the performative dimension, some intellectual issues typical of the philosophical speculation about the ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων ("correctness of names").<sup>16</sup> As the examples cited make clear, the Greek intellectuals show an ambivalent attitude towards the divine when they interpret the gods' names. While the desire to question the traditional configuration of the gods emerges, they feel the need to safeguard their deities from a too radical rational critique. This becomes evident in the recurse to "precautionary formulae" <sup>17</sup> like the one adopted by the chorus in Aeschylus' Agamemnon – apparently, a concern which is not extraneous to the religious belief of his time – but also in the recurrence of the same (Hesiodic) etymological patterns through the centuries.

The application of etymology within literary genres such as epics, tragic poetry and oratory does not confine its impact to the mere sphere of abstract thinking. As an act of interpretation, it presupposes a high level of religious awareness and could appear to be eminently an intellectual concern. The objects of the interpretation are nonetheless mostly derived from cult practice and poetic tradition, according to the conviction that the first poets, particularly Homer and Hesiod, were the first imposers of the divine (poetic) appellatives (eponumiai).18 Even though etymology, particularly when it cooperates with allegoresis (as in the case of the Derveni papyrus), alters the perception of the gods themselves, it is precisely the acknowledgment of what is commonly believed that enhances the success of the interpretation.19 In order to reach the target of the ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων ("correctness of names") regarding the divine names, the interpreter is confronted with names which are not merely denotative, but need to be in tune with what is commonly accepted about the gods' identity, and also with the possibilities that the juxtaposition between formally consonant words displays in order to determine a new image of the deities, starting from the way they are usually called. Etymology is often intended as an analogical process, but it is never arbitrary. We could state that if the ancient research for the correctness of names generally follows three principles (analogy, literary tradition, common use),<sup>20</sup> etymology applied to divine names shares almost the same pattern, insofar as it works by analogy, but finds its terms of comparison in the poetic and mythical tradition and in cult practice. No etymological interpretation of divine names prescinds from such terms, even when it aims to put them into question.

For an overview of the close interchanges between cult practice, literature and performance see Bierl 2007; Bierl 2018.

E.g. E. Tr. 988–990 about Aphrodite (see Tsistsibakou–Vasalos 2003; Mirto 2016); Ba. 274–327 about Demeter and Dionysus (see Mirto 2010).

See Rowett 2013.

Hdt. 2.53.

See Most 2016, 58.

Siebenborn 1976, 56–139.

#### 2.2 Towards a Philosophical Charis

Quite evidently, etymology derives its subject directly from cult practice and authoritative texts – mostly from the interpretation of epics – through a bottom-up dynamic. In the ritual invocations, the adoption of the most appropriate appellation stimulates the god's favour by building up a reciprocity in pleasure (charis): in order to obtain the god's benevolence, the worshipper pleases him by invoking him by the right name(s),21 since "the gods can be persuaded and diverted by sacrifices, 'soothing prayers' and votive offerings", as Plato puts it.<sup>22</sup> Etymology plays its role in this. In the Homeric Hymns<sup>23</sup> the etymological interpretation of some epithets puts the stress on local versions of cult and regional sanctuaries of the god, in order to increase the prestige of the cult seat and gain the god's favour.24 These kinds of etymological connections mainly aim at explaining and glorifying the specificity of a local divine identity, rather than exploring the nature of the gods. Hymns basically constitute offerings in words, and that is why etymology can contribute to the amplification of the gods' glory within these texts.<sup>25</sup> It could sound quite surprising that Plato himself showed that he was aware of this aspect in his dialogue about human language and the correctness of names, the Cratylus.<sup>26</sup> In fact, the caution Socrates shows when he approaches the delicate matter of the etymological interpretation of the divine names (Cra. 400d-401a) is to be considered neither ironic nor purely rhetorical.27 Since, according to the Homeric

See the study by Pulleyn 1997.

Pl. R. 365e (transl. Emlyn-Jones/Preddy).

The discussion about the actual employment of poetic hymns in rituals has led to controversies in the course of the decades. Càssola 1975, XIV recalls Thuc. 3.104.4, where the Hymn to Apollo is defined a προοίμιον to be sung in the course of the festivals which accompanied the rituals in honour of the gods. Furley–Bremer 2001, 1–49 makes a distinction between cult hymns and literary hymns which would exclude the latter from any cultic value. Abritta 2015 has questioned the distinction, by stressing that the Homeric hymns shared a common pattern with "cult hymns" and also clearly represented the intention to please the gods. Furthermore, "the Ancients classified them as hymns together with their lyric counterparts, and there is little evidence that a division existed in any way in Antiquity" (2015, 8).

E.g. h. Ap. 493–6. For the narrative usage of etymology in h. Dem. see Petrovitz 2014.

See Herrero de Jáuregui in this volume.

As Benitez 2016, 301 has concisely stated, "Plato's involvement in [. . .] secularisation is ambiguous", since to some extent he preserves myth and religion for heuristic aims.

After a long phase in which the Cratylus was considered of eminent importance with regard to the problem of the correspondence between names and things (see. e.g. Gaiser 1974; Baxter 1992), it was David Sedley (Sedley 1998, Sedley 2003a, Sedley 2003b) who perceptively understood the central role played by the etymological section within the dialogue and acknowledged its substantial credibility for Plato's aims. Later, Anceschi 2007 focused on the etymological analysis of the divine names in comparison with the Derveni papyrus.

distinction between the language of the gods and the language of mortals, the true nature of the gods, as well as their true names, are known only by the gods themselves,28 the mortals have to conduct their inquiry according to the names commonly accepted in the religious practice (particularly in prayers)29 and in the literary tradition. Socrates points out that the validity of such denominations within the limits of human rational inquiry is granted by their tangible effects, alongside their origin, which dates back to a wise onomatourgos ("coiner of names"):30 indeed, the gods show that they appreciate and enjoy (χαίρουσιν) the traditional invocations they receive from the humans in the course of the rituals – how they show their appreciation remains unclear. Socrates' attitude towards etymology is therefore ambivalent. On the one hand, the etymological interpretation exploits all the possible meanings suggested by the facies of divine names present within Greek polytheism. On the other hand, the interpreter knows that the cult practice and the literary tradition introduce some limitations to the hermeneutic freedom of the philosopher. Socrates provides a concrete example of his attitude when he avoids reporting improper etymologies of Aphrodite's and Dionysus' names, even though he immediately adds that the gods would jokingly accept interpretations of their names too, since they are fun-loving creatures;31 in other terms, their nature is not restricted to the human preconceptions about them. In the Philebus, again with regard to Aphrodite, Socrates confirms that his anxiety and caution about the right appellatives are even "more than that of the common man" <sup>32</sup> and he makes an effort to call her by the name that is supposed to please the goddess the most; however, the formal reverence does not prevent him from searching for an identification between the goddess and the concept of hedone ("pleasure").33

The general respect Plato gives to the nomos ("common usage") in the religious field<sup>34</sup> is a way to keep "unity and diversity together" <sup>35</sup> within the Greek polytheistic perspective. In the Cratylus, the systematic application of etymology to the Homeric divine names leads the philosopher to explore rationally even the most sacred domain. Nonetheless, according to Plato, language itself was invented by the god Her-

Cra. 400d. The acknowledgment of human ignorance before the gods echoes a well-known Protagorean statement (DK 80 B4 = D10 L–M) and puts the etymological section in dialogue with the sophistic Athenian culture, from which Plato distances himself, insofar as he is going to promote a possible integration between philosophy and religion.

Cra. 400e.

About this point in the ancient debate, see Padovani 2018, 35–38.

Cra. 406c-d.

Phlb. 12c (transl. Taylor).

Phlb. 12c1–3.

On the limits of human knowledge, see Cra. 425c – it is to be read as a precautionary formula after developing the long etymological section. On the respect towards the tradition see also Ti. 40d; Lg. 886b-e.

Pirenne–Delforge/Pironti 2015, 41.

mes: the god's name reveals his primeval association with the act of interpreting (ἑρμηνεύω).36 The etymological interpretation of the divine names provided in the Cratylus thus represents the exhortation to (re)interpret<sup>37</sup> even the most revered and untouchable sort of words. The search for the truth cannot accept names just the way they are, since the truth dwells behind names, but, quite paradoxically, also within them and only a relational approach can disclosure their potential. Plato suggests that the gods themselves would appreciate it as an act of philosophical charis, since etymology provides a deeper understanding of their nature, starting from the names by which they are commonly worshipped. Ambiguity is constitutive of this approach. Socrates asserts that he will analyse the gods' names according to their traditional configuration,38 while suggesting that tradition itself is uncertain and his inquiry into the divine will go beyond the boundaries of common belief.<sup>39</sup> The etymological hermeneutics proves to please the gods, insofar as it searches for unity in the divine nature, without rejecting the plurality of nuances which spread from its multifaceted articulation within the polytheistic system. The acceptance of the fluid plurality of the meanings disclosed by the gods' appellatives is thus coessential to the discovery of their unitarian nature, since it is a feature typical of human language that it attains to knowledge through the accumulation and discussion of all the possible interpretations. Language moves in a circular motion in order to bring to new life what the linear passing of time has altered,<sup>40</sup> and submit the result to new interpretations. The negotiation of the boundaries between cult and philosophy through etymology generates a form of philosophical charis, which does not devote to the gods any hymns or libations, but interpretations about their divine nature conducted through language.<sup>41</sup> Thus, a better understanding of the gods' nature provides the right way to honour properly the divine, which proves to be wisdom-loving.

Pl. Cra. 407e.

See also Montgomery Ewegen 2013, 182–190.

Cra. 400e.

As the locution οἵτινές τε καὶ ὁπόθεν ("whatever their names are, wherever they come from") in the same passage makes explicit, by decontextualising the divine names from cult practice and even from literary texts.

Cra. 414c, 434b.

Plato cites the case of the Delphic sententiae devoted to the god by the seven sages (Prt. 343a–b). Plutarch presents his Pythici dialogi as primal offerings (ἀπαρχαί) of wisdom consecrated to the god (De E 384E; see Bonazzi 2008). See also the end of Cornutus' Compendium. It is worth recalling that philosophers deeply concerned with etymology also devoted hymns to the gods: for instance, as in the case of the Stoic hymn to Zeus by Cleanthes. Proclus explicitly asserts that his hymns have the same value as a ritual initiation conducted through words of wisdom (H. 4.2–4 and 5.12).

#### 2.3 Ancient Scholarly Etymology: Accumulation, Selection and Reconfiguration

The scholarly approach to divine denominations is not interested in exploring the unitarian nature of the gods, but, on the contrary, it even complicates the situation of uncertainty about their identity. The ancient grammarians face the puzzling multiplicity of the divine manifestations starting from the exegesis of the Homeric text, and provide different explanations for the origin of the divine epithets employed therein. Their use of etymology is mainly etiological and works through accumulation and selection of data, so their accounts frequently register the actualisation of the cult practice happening during their times. When Aristarchus, who was not particularly concerned with the etymology of the divine names,42 interprets the Homeric epithet of Apollo ἀφήτωρ, 43 "archer" (related to ἀφίημι, "to throw"), as if the ἀ‑ stood for ὁμοῦ and the real meaning of the word was the otherwise not attested ὁμοφήτωρ, "prophet" (linked to φημί, "to say"),44 he de facto emphasises the mantic function of the god, which had become popular due to his oracle in Delphi,45 and leaves aside the connotation of Apollo as a bloody warrior, in spite of the fact that the god's domains (represented by the bow, the lyre, and the prophecy) are closely interconnected.46 Achilles' invocation to Zeus Δωδωναῖος in the Iliad<sup>47</sup> – the epithet is related to the oracular seat in Dodona – raises a controversy about the existence of two different cult sites of the god, one in Thesprotis and the other in Thessaly – according to Philoxenus' interpretation, Achilles would appeal to the latter "Pelasgic" Zeus. While the alternative epithet Φηγωναῖος, dating back to Zenodotos, highlights the connection with the φηγός ("oak"), which was supposed to pronounce divination responses, but lacks any geographical connotation, the epithet Βωδωναῖος, related to the city of Bodona in Thessaly, known to the rhetor Cinias, attests the belief in a double version of the Zeus of Dodona.48 Although there is no evidence for the actual existence of the Thessalian Dodona, the etymological interpretations of the grammarians presumably mirror (or possibly even contribute to shape) a shared conviction about the figure and the cult of the god.<sup>49</sup> Finally, the opaque epithet of Apollo Σμινθεύς<sup>50</sup> was at the centre of an etymological debate, which also affected the cult. According to Palamidis' reconstruction, during the 2nd century BCE the epithet had been interpreted in connection with the Mysian word for "mouse", σμίνθος: the hypoth-

Nünlist 2019, 24.

Hom. Il. 9.404.

See Pl. Cra. 405d–e, about Ἀπόλλων / Ὁμοπολῶν.

See Schironi 2018, 332–333.

See Monbrun 2007.

Hom. Il. 16.234.

St. Byz. p. 246, 12‒247, 16 Meineke = δ 146 Bill.

Pagani 2015, 252.

Hom. Il. 1.35–39.

esis was known to Aristarchus, who considered the mouse too vile (χαμαιπετής) an animal to be the origin of the god's epithet.51 Anyhow, the scholarly discussion of this possible etymology presumably led to the "reinvention" of the related cult and to the introduction of some mice to be raised in the sanctuary devoted to the god – even if for a very short period of time.52 We must admit that it was not a very common case, but it shows the possibility of an actual top-down interaction between etymology and cult practice, starting from the opaque meaning of divine denominations.53

# 3 The Case of Apollo Lukegenes/Lukios/Lukeios: Exploiting Onomastic Ambiguity

Since the true meaning of the divine names was far from unambiguous to the Greeks themselves, Plato suggests that we all have to learn from Homer.54 When in the Iliad the Lycian hero Glaucus prays to the god Apollo so that he will come and help him in the battlefield, he appeals to him directly: κλῦθι ἄναξ ὅς που Λυκίης ἐν πίονι δήμῳ / εἲς ἢ ἐνὶ Τροίῃ · δύνασαι δὲ σὺ πάντοσ' ἀκούειν / ἀνέρι κηδομένῳ. <sup>55</sup> The prayer contains the double concern about the right indication of the god's local domain and the more modern one about his universal power.56 The god to whom Glaucus appeals, as an inhabitant of the region of Lycia, is Apollo Λυκηγενής, "born in Lycia". The epithet, which has no attestations in the cult, unlike its alternative version Λύκιος, <sup>57</sup> refers to the homonymous region in Asia Minor, where the god originated according to the Iliadic tale.58 The epithet appears for the first time in Homer's Iliad 4.101 (and again in 4.119) where Athena suggests to Pandaros, son of Lycaon, that he should offer a hecatomb to Apollo Λυκηγενής. The scholia conjecture that the epithet depends on Pandaros' origin – he

Apollon. Lex. 143 s.v. Σμινθεῦ.

See Palamidis 2019.

See also Audureau/Galoppin in this volume.

Pl. Cra. 391d.

Il. 16.514–16: "Hear me, lord, who are perhaps in the rich land of Lycia / or perhaps in Troy, but everywhere are able to hear / a man in sorrow" (Transl. Murray2 ).

See Mirto–Paduano 1997 ad locum.

Cf. h. Ap. 179–181; Pi. P. 1.74; Stesich. fr. 198 Page = fr. 109 Finglass; Simon. fr. 519 (55a) Page = fr. 103 Poltera; B. 13.147. About the cult of Apollo Lukios: Paus. 2.19.3–4; Id., 8.40.5; Id., 8.46.3; MAMA 5.87 = I. Knidos 221 A; SEG 46, 828.

Càssola 1975, 85 accepts it as a matter of fact. Walter Burkert has nonetheless persuasively demonstrated, contrary to Wilamowitz's opinion (see also DELG s.v. Λυκηγενής), that Apollo was not actually a Lycian god in his origin (Burkert 2011, 224). See also Graf 2009, 12; West 2013; Bierl-Latacz 2017, 55. The history of Apollo's oracles in Asia Minor is scrutinised by Parke 1985.

actually came from Lycia,59 as his father's name, Lycaon, transparently indicates.60 Several ancient sources confirm that Apollo was actually honoured in Lycia and that a sanctuary (ἱερόν) was devoted to his cult in Patara at least from the 5th century BCE.61 Several mythical accounts regarding Apollo's Lycian origin were well known. The ancient scholia to the Iliadic passage generally justify the epithet Λυκηγενής on the basis of the local evidence (the existence of the sanctuary in Patara) or, as an alternative, of the mythical tale concerning Apollo's birth in Lycia. According to this account, Leto, trying to escape from Hera's jealousy, found refuge in Lycia, where she gave birth to her son Apollo.62 Nonetheless, the scholion bT 101b1 reports an alternative version of the myth, which shows an interference with another epithet of Apollo, Λύκειος, traditionally linked to the god's identity as λυκοκτόνος, "wolf-slaying", <sup>63</sup> which is linked with the god's pastoral functions.64 Indeed, the scholion asserts that a wolf (λύκος) led Leto to the river Xanthos, in Trojan Lycia, so that she could purify herself after she had given birth to Apollo.65 It is hard to consider this interpretation just a misunderstanding of an otherwise transparent epithet. Aelianus, who accepts it, stresses that Leto bore the god after changing her aspect into a she-wolf: that is why in Delphi they erected a statue dedicated to a wolf and it is also the reason why Homer called the god Λυκηγενής. 66 This retrospective interpretation of the Homeric epithet has no documentary value, but it tells us much about the Greek etymological mindset, since two different epithets of the same god can be put together by virtue of their phonetic similarity. Myth and cult are then called up to provide evidence for the etymological connection.

The perception of the god's identity was therefore more fluid than we think,67 as the ambiguous etymological interpretation of the epithet Λύκειος in Greek tragedy proves. Apollo Λύκειος was particularly revered in Argos, which was the setting of tragedies such as Aeschylus' Agamemnon, or Sophocles' Electra. The divine figure was also familiar to the Athenian audience, since in Athens his sanctuary in the Classical age

Sch. bT 101a. Nonetheless, Aristarchus identified Pandaros' native land with Lycia in the Troad and not with the region in the south–west of Asia Minor (West 2011, 64).

Eust. In Il. 354.14.

A well attested tradition asserts that Apollo spent the winter months in Lycia (Hdt. 1.182; E. Rh. 224–225; Lyc. 920, sch. ad locum; Verg. A. 4.143–144, 376–377, Serv. A. ad locum, Hor. Carm. 3.4.61–4). According to Semos (FGrH 396 F 20) Apollo's birth was celebrated in Lycia, as well as in other places. Contra see Bryce 1991.

Sch. D101.

The god is explicitly denoted in this sense in S. El. 6–7 and Plu. De sollertia animalium 966A.

See Càssola 1975, 83.

According to Eust. In Il. 448.44, Leto would have dreamt that she was going to give birth to a wolf. Ael. NA 10.26.

Burkert 2007, 186–194 acknowledges the "grundlegende Ambiguität" of the Greek perception of the two epithets Λύκειος/Λύκιος, with regard to Hdt. 9.92–96, depending on the political context as well. An anthropological and etymological (in the modern sense) study of Apollo as wolf–god is provided by Gershenson 1991.

was used for military exercises.68 In spite of the traditional perception of Apollo Λύκειος as charged with a defensive function,69 the tragedians exploit through the etymological interpretation of the epithet the aggressive side of his connection with the wolves, which could be linked to the Athenian cult of the god.70 Apollo Λύκειος is generally invoked in the context of prayers in which the destruction of the enemy is intensely desired – for instance, in the Seven against Thebes. <sup>71</sup> The most significant occurrence though is Cassandra's ambiguous apostrophe to the god in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. As a priestess of Apollo, her words sound particularly incisive to the audience. Cassandra feels abandoned by the god she has served loyally until her last hour: ὀτοτοῖ Λύκει' Ἄπολλον, οἲ ἐγὼ ἐγώ, <sup>72</sup> she cries, by appealing to the god Λύκειος. What is the meaning of this choice among the many possible epithets, leaving aside the fact that Apollo Λύκειος had a temple on the main square of Argos?73 There is an irreducible ambiguity in the etymology of the epithet, to which Cassandra alludes. Apart from the tragic occurrence of the epithet with an aggressive connotation, Apollo Λύκειος, as the god who defended the flocks from the wolves, was commonly perceived as a benevolent protector of human destinies.74 Cassandra, in the hard situation she was facing, would have expected the same from her Apollo. Nonetheless, two verses after the invocation, she refers to Aegistus, her killer, as a wolf (λύκωι). In a conflictual moment of the relationship between Cassandra and the god, she catches a glimpse of the destructive side of Apollo, who does not intervene to defend her from the wolf Aegistus, as his name should imply, but even legitimates her killer's action.75 The etymological interpretation of the epithet within tragic poetry dialogues subtly with the perception of Apollo in Athens and contributes to shaping the perception of the god's identity in the sense of bestiality and aggressiveness according to the context.

As Plutarch asserts, "practically all the Greeks identify Apollo with the Sun", <sup>76</sup> although with different interpretative nuances.<sup>77</sup> For instance, Stoic philosophy is intensely concerned with the search for physical doctrines hidden behind the divine names transmitted by the poetic tradition. Through the combination of allegoresis and etymology, the Stoics, in accordance with their philosophical principles, provide a systematic reconfiguration of the traditional images of the gods. Although their etymological interpretation of the epithet Λυκηγενής/Λύκιος as if the god were the Sun


E.g. Plu. De Pythiae oraculis 400D.

Jameson 2014.

See e.g. A. Supp. 686.

Jameson 2014, 55–61.

A. Th. 145–7.

A. Ag. 1257 "Woe, woe! Lycean Apollo, ah me!". (transl. H.R. Smyth).

Paus. 2.19.3–4.

Plu. De E apud Delphos 386B (transl. Babbit). The identification of Apollo with the sun developed at least from the 5th century BCE; see Burkert 2011, 230; Burkert 2007, 188–189; Graf 2009, 120–121.

distances it from the Lycian roots of the Homeric context, as well as from the influence of local cult practices, moving towards the substantial unification of the divine nature, they keep in mind the ambiguity contained within Apollo's denominations and further exploit the connection with the epithet Λύκειος. Apparently, the Stoics were the first who interpreted the epithet Λύκιος in terms of a solar conception of the god Apollo. According to Macrobius, both Antipater of Tarsus and Cleanthes would have explained the epithet as referring to the sun. While Antipater fully allegorises the epithet, by connecting it to λευκαίνεσθαι, "make white", since the sunlight illuminates everything, Cleanthes' solar interpretation starts from the traditional image of the god of the wolves expressed by the appellative Λύκειος: Cleanthes Lycium Apollinem appellatum notat, quod, veluti lupi pecora rapiunt, ita ipse quoque humorem eripit radiis. <sup>78</sup> Cleanthes' explanation of the epithet Λύκιος is conducted in allegorical terms (Apollo is the sun), so it gets integrated in the allegorical reading, far from preserving any localistic connotations. The interpretation presupposes the Greek etymological connection Λύκιος/λύκος, since it is said that the Sun/Apollo dries the humidity with his rays like the wolf steals the sheep from the flocks. According to the traditional cult practice, the god of wolves was nonetheless Apollo Λύκειος, and not Λύκιος. In addition, Cleanthes chooses to assimilate the god to the sun in virtue of the aggressiveness depicted about Apollo Λύκειος in Greek tragedies, rather than in consideration of the quality of the white light, as Antipater does. But Macrobius' account goes even further. He affirms that the god's solar epithets share a common root, which is to be found in the word \*λύκη, a clear cast from Latin lux attested only in Macrobius.79 The Homeric appellative Λυκηγενής is used to prove that the ancients had already understood the real nature of the god in terms of solar light. The same concern about Homeric authority is to be found in Heraclitus, the author of the Allegoriae Homericae.<sup>80</sup> His aim is to demonstrate that the Homeric epithets of Apollo<sup>81</sup> already reveal the awareness about the solar nature of the god. He considers the tale about the Lycian birth of the god to be a recent myth, which was unknown to Homer. Heraclitus refers the epithet Λυκηγενής directly to the sun and connects it to the twilight glow (τὸ λυκαυγές), or, as an alternative, to the origin of the year, which is called λυκάβας. The etymology here displayed does not precisely involve the light, but highlights the phonic affinity between the epithet and the effects of the action of the sun upon the cosmos, according to the scheme of physical allegoresis.82

Macr. 1.17.36= fr. 541 SVF 1.123: "Cleanthes remarks that Apollo is called "Lycius" because just as wolves snatch animals from the flocks so the sun itself takes away dampness with its rays" (transl. Kaster).

For the connection with light (λυκόφως) see also Ael. NA 10.26.

Heraclit. All. 7.10–11.

Not only about Λυκηγενής: see All. 7.

Heraclit. All. 8.5.

The case of Apollo Λυκηγενής/Λύκιος/Λύκειος shows the tendency to exploit the ambiguity of the divine onomastic attributes through the etymological interpretation, not only in philosophical discourses. Most of all, it shows the flexibility of the etymological interpretation according to the context, which conveys a dynamic theological perspective: Glaucus' prayer stresses the connection between the god and the region of Lycia, so that he comes to help the Lycian hero against his enemies;83 the tragic interpretation of Apollo Λύκειος highlights aspects of the god's identity which are functional both to the plot and to reinforce the perception of the deity according to the Athenian civic cults of the Classical age; finally, philosophical hermeneutics display an allegorical, universalising reading of the divine, in which the epithets of the god get defunctionalized and abstracted from their original context. It becomes evident that etymology exploits the ambiguity implicit in divine polyonymy, as a reflection of the plural identities of the gods themselves. Thus, the etymological interpretation constitutes the tool for exploring and exploiting the ambiguity of names, in order to set forth a perception of the divine which is strictly connected to factors such as the literary genre, the social context, and, last but not least, the argumentative purposes of the authors. Nonetheless, the process of interpreting the names aims at attaining a deeper knowledge of the divine nature, since the ambiguity implicit in the theonyms is developed in order to reveal new aspects of the same divine figure.

# 4 Interculturality: Divine Names Abroad and Back Again to Greece

The ancient Mediterranean gods (and their names) were wanderers.<sup>84</sup> The phenomenon has been acknowledged by the Greeks since the archaic age, but it increases significantly, with real effects upon cult practice, by the age of Alexander and finds new blood in the multicultural context of the Roman Empire. Through the search for equivalences among Greek and foreign gods (interpretatio) <sup>85</sup> and the juxtaposition of names, the onomastic interchanges get integrated in the religious horizon of the Greeks. The process of international translatability86 of divine names in the ancient Mediterranean polytheism implies a modification of the perception of the gods. As emerges from cult evidence, the accumulation of appellatives intended to honour the gods overshadows the importance of the single divine name.87 The appellatives become attributes of the

See also Herrero de Jáuregui 2021, 193.

See Parker 2017; Bonnet/Bricault 2016; Montiglio 2005.

Graf 1998; Ando 2005.

Assmann 1997, 23–54.

Assmann 1997, 48. See also Graf 1998, 1042: "Wenn die Namen übersetzbar sind, muß hinter den verschiedenen Namen eine einzige göttliche Essenz stehen".

cosmic divine nature, according to the conviction that the same gods are worshipped everywhere under different names. The formula "the god X is our god Y", attested since the times of Herodotus, thus promotes an osmosis among deities from different countries and gets exploited for political issues from the Hellenistic age onwards.88 Nonetheless, the etymological interpretation of the divine names in the intercultural dimension follows a different pattern from the act of naming, which is obviously the basis for further interpretation. The etymological interpretation accepts intercultural polyonymy as a matter of fact; indeed, it displays a comparative inquiry through language into the unitarian divine nature to which the names from different countries allude. In a sense, the etymological interpretation restricts the field, since it aims at understanding the unitarian truth which lies behind the multiplicity of names, whereas the cult chains of invocation amplify the extent of the gods' spheres of influence.

In spite of the abundant evidence of comparative readings of Greek and foreign deities with regard to their image and related cult practice,89 the etymological interpretation of the divine names seems to apply only to select cultural areas, basically Egypt and Rome, which had the closest relationship with Greece for historical and political reasons.<sup>90</sup> A reason for this selective approach could lie in the fact that the etymological interpretation requires the direct knowledge of different cult traditions and languages. Although the conspicuous presence of non-native Greek speaking intellectuals in the Hellenistic kingdoms and most of all in the frame of the Roman Empire made it easier to examine in depth foreign religious systems, the possibility to travel and wander and know directly or indirectly other traditions seems to have been the privilege of a few intellectuals. This explanation proves to be quite unsatisfactory, since the evidence of intercultural etymological interpretation generally – though not always<sup>91</sup> – reconducts foreign theonyms to Greek linguistic roots.<sup>92</sup> A perhaps more probable, though quite paradoxical, motivation for the relatively scarce use of the etymological interpretation of foreign divine names is connected with the process of ono-

The god Sarapis was "invented" by the Ptolemies in order to favour the integration between Greeks and Egyptians; regarding his wandering to Greece, see Bonnet/Bricault 2016, 119–124.

Greek allegorical interpretations of foreign deities are attested as well, e.g. Chaeremon about the Egyptian gods; Philo Byblius about Phoenician theology. An interesting case is represented by the Babylonian mythology under the Seleukids (see Anagnostou–Laoutides 2022).

Egypt has traditionally been considered by the Greeks as the ideal partner for religious comparison, and the cradle of religious wisdom; the name of Isis was scrutinised by the Greeks since a very archaic epoch. By the age of Alexander, the osmosis between Greek and Egyptian culture became even closer (see Vasunia 2001; Stephens 2003).

Philo of Alexandria and Philo Byblius give the correct translation of Hebrew and Phoenician names, and their interpretation is based upon their considerable knowledge of such idioms. It is controversial as to whether Plutarch actually knew Egyptian and Latin, although it is highly probable.

It also depends on the Stoic development of the etymological interpretation, which, in their hands, became a tool to discover the πρώτιστα ὀνόματα ("the very first names") within Greek language, as if it were the universal idiom.

mastic accumulation described above. Jan Assmann has highlighted how the perception of one universal religious truth could lead to the relativity of institutions and denominations.93 Nonetheless, there actually existed ambitious programmes of religious intercultural translation which often resorted to the etymological interpretation of foreign divine names, as in the case of Plutarch.<sup>94</sup> In any case, the Greek deities remain of the greatest interest for intercultural comparisons.95

Religion represents the core of the Greek intercultural approach and the appeal to foreign wisdom is crucial to the Greek theological perspective.96 By carefully examining foreign rituals and divine names, the Greek authors (mainly philosophers and historians) often look for the legitimisation of their statements through interreligious comparisons, in order to criticise or shed new light upon their own religious tradition.97 The Greek etymological interpretation of the divine names thus represents an interesting case study in the context of intercultural interchanges within Mediterranean polytheism, insofar as it integrates the universalising tendency implicit in interculturality with the specificity of the Greek theological approach, which is enriched and confirmed by the recourse to interreligious comparisons. The end of Macrobius' argument devoted to Apollo Λύκιος, which was plausibly derived from Porphyry,98 introduces a comparison with an Egyptian testimony of the cult of the god, which corroborates the derivation of the epithet from λύκος in the context of the solar interpretation of the god.

Λύκον autem solem vocari etiam Lycopolitana Thebaidos civitas testimonio est: quae pari religione Apollinem itemque lupum, hoc est λύκον, colit, in utroque solem venerans, quod hoc animal rapit et consumit omnia in modum solis ac plurimum oculorum acie cernens tenebras noctis evincit. 99

It is a matter of fact that the Lycopolitans venerated the wolf as a god, whether he was the jackal-god Wepwawet<sup>100</sup> or, more probably, according to Macrobius' account,

Assmann 1997, 53.

See Strobach 1997; Padovani 2018; Padovani 2020.

An interesting example of etymologization of a foreign divine name is provided by Herodotus (4.59), where he states that Zeus is called Papaios by the Scythians, since pappas in Greek means "father". On this (unique) case of Herodotean etymologization of a divine name see Munson 2005, 44–45, and Palamidis in this volume (p. 595).

See the classic study of Momigliano 1980, who nonetheless leaves aside the relationship with Egypt.

There were also cases of criticism of the Greek ignorance in favour of alien wisdom, e.g. Ph. Bybl. FGrH 3c.790 F 2 = Eus. PE 1.10.9, or Iamblichus' praise of the Egyptian βάρβαρα ὀνόματα ("barbaric names") (Myst. 7.4.4; 7.5; see Shaw 2016).

Filoni 2021, 231–241, with further bibliography.

Macr. 1.17.40: "That the sun is called lukos is attested by the community of Lycopolis in the Thebaid, which pays cult to both Apollo and the wolf – that is, lukos – in both cases worshipping the sun, because the animal snatches and consumes all things, like the sun, and overcomes night's shadows in seeing a great deal with its sharp eyes" (transl. Kaster).

Wepwawet was venerated in Lycopolis (modern Asyut) according to the testimony of Plu. De Iside et Osiride 380B (although he does not report the name of the god); see Gwyn Griffiths 1970, 547; Str. 17.1.40 refers to the wolf (λύκος) as a god in Lycopolis.

Osiris. According to a myth recalled by Diodorus Siculus, the god came out of Hades having taken on the guise of a wolf in order to help Isis and Horus against Typhon.101 Osiris was sometimes identified with the sun102 and on this basis was considered poluophthalmos, "with many eyes". <sup>103</sup> In any case, the account does not refer to Apollo's traditional Egyptian counterpart Horus,<sup>104</sup> which makes Macrobius' assertion about the cult of Apollo in Lycopolis quite dubious,<sup>105</sup> even though the presence of the Greek god's appellative in Egypt is not Macrobius' brainwave, but is also based on material evidence. Nonetheless, it regards the appellative Λύκειος (and not Λύκιος) which is attested at Luxor in Thebes: it designates the recipient of a statue portraying a jackal.<sup>106</sup> Macrobius' identification starts from the sound analogy in the Greek language between Λύκιος and λύκος (and, in addition, the name of the city of Lycopolis, the "city of wolves").<sup>107</sup> The point of convergence between the two divine figures is thus first of all identified in their names, interpreted according to the Greek language. The etymological interpretation supports the idea that the same god honoured both by the Greeks and by the Egyptians is actually the sun. Indeed, the wolf consumes its victims like the sun does, and has many eyes, so that it can see well also through the darkness.<sup>108</sup> According to this reconstruction, a) the Egyptians actually worship the same god whom the Greeks call Apollo Λύκιος, b) they associate him with the wolf, which the Greeks call λύκος, and as a symbol of the sun by virtue of an interpretation which is close to Cleanthes' one, but also assumes Egyptian characteristics of the god,<sup>109</sup> not least the allusion to the victory of Osiris over the darkness of the Underworld. Even though the interpretation of the epithet makes reference to cult practice and religious iconography, it is the Greek etymology which makes the whole argument coherent, by freely associating Apollo Lycius, the wolf, Osiris as an Underworld and solar deity, and the sun, in accordance with the aim of validating the philosophical conception of the god Apollo as the sun. Thus, the intercultural comparison conducted through etymology shows the true universal nature that lies behind the names of the god, though the identity of the god had already been determined by philosophical speculation and by the allegorical pattern. Nonetheless, the intercultural comparison contributes to focusing on the aspects of the gods' identities which are apparently shared by other civilisations. In spite of modern perplexity in the face of this argu-

D.S. 1.88.6–7 = Hecat. FGrH 264 F 25.

Plu. De Iside et Osiride 371F-372A.

Plu. De Iside. et Osiride 354F-355A; D.S. 1.11.2.

Plu. De Iside et Osiride 375F–376A.

Nonetheless, the Greek presence in Lycopolis is attested since the Ptolemaic era (see Montevecchi 2000), and we cannot exclude that a cult of Apollo actually existed there.

Parker 2017, 102, n. 104.

On the origin of the toponym, see D.S. 1.88.7.

See also Ael. NA 10.27: "And they say that the Wolf is beloved of the Sun" (transl. Scholfield).

The Greek description of the sun does not imply that he has many eyes, unlike Osiris, but that he sees and knows everything (Hom. Il. 3.277; Od. 11.109).

mentative strategy, which shows little respect for the local specificity of the cults,<sup>110</sup> it confirms the basic tension between etymology and cult polyonymy. Whereas the act of naming and creating juxtapositions of intercultural divine appellatives in the cult practice always preserves an important civic or political value for the Mediterranean communities,<sup>111</sup> the Greek etymological interpretation of the divine names proves to be the concern of restricted intellectual elites. Far from merely representing a tool of validation of intercultural intersections, etymology corresponds with the exigencies of a universalistic theological inquiry, which is in a relationship of continuous osmosis with cult practice, but manipulates it according to a perspective which remains firmly anchored within the fold of Greek theology.

# 5 Conclusions: Etymology and Polytheism

To sum up, if etymology is intended by the Greek intellectuals mainly as a tool for getting to know the divine, in fact it is a way of coping with it. In other words, the main object of the etymological interpretation fails to reach the epistemological truth about the gods, which is unattainable. The question: "What lies behind a divine name?" remains unanswered. Nonetheless, etymology tells us much more about what is in a divine name, in the sense of the possibilities of interpretation the onomastic dimension displays within the theological discourse. Since the resort to etymology implies the concomitant cooperation with cult practice, myth, epic poetry, this tool for (re-)thinking the divine describes more accurately instances which are intrinsic to Greek polytheism more than to the divine nature. Etymology shows the eminently dynamic and relational character of Greek polytheism, since the divine names are not just an object of devotion, but actually the theatre where a challenging relationship with the divine is possible. Indeed, to interpret a divine name means to take part in the linguistic hermeneutic process which constantly shapes anew the gods' identities and offers to the polytheistic system the occasion to critically rethink and renew its features according to the context without cancelling the tension towards a unitarian consideration of the gods and the respect for the religious tradition.

Macrobius makes it even clearer in the following case of Apollo πατρῷος, 1.17.42: "They named Apollo Patrôios ["Ancestral"], not because of a belief specific to a single nation or community, but as the source of generation for all things [. . .]". (transl. Kaster).

See particularly Parker 2017, 77–112 and 154–172.

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# Florian Audureau and Thomas Galoppin The All-Encompassing Name: Multilingualism, Myth and Materiality in a Late Greek Papyrus of Ritual Power (PGM XIII)

Todos los seres viajan de distinta manera hacia su Dios: La raíz baja a pie por peldaños de agua. Las hojas con suspiros aparejan la nube (. . .) El pez habla a su Dios en la burbuja que es un trino en el agua, grito de ángel caído, privado de sus plumas Jorge Carrera Andrade (1903–1978), "El viaje infinito"

Abstract: The Greek "magical" papyrus XIII in the corpus established by K. Preisendanz records two versions of a ritual. Written in Egypt probably during the 4th century CE, the papyrus displays a multicultural composition of ritual knowledge for addressing a divine power. Knowledge of divine names is a major focus of the ritual precisely because it grants power to the human expert. The composition of the instructions shows that, rather than a philological work on the divine names, the actual tools for giving meaning and power to mostly non–Greek – and basically unintelligible – names are the claim for multilingualism, a myth of cosmic generation and a manipulation of graphic designs. Therefore, it shows how the teaching and transmission of divine denominations gives sense and purpose to a web of onomastic attributes: all things considered here, ritual instructions and complex denominations are coherent in forming the portrait of a god who "encompasses all things".

The Papyri Graecae Magicae (PGM) are a corpus of Greek papyri from Roman Egypt pertaining to a multilingual, prescriptive and ritual literature.1 Most of them contain texts that were copied onto rolls or codices after the 3rd century CE, but they are recensions or receptions of older texts, emerged from a multicultural milieu.<sup>2</sup> The content of the texts is informed by Egyptian and Greek cultures as well as Near Eastern ritual knowledge and Jewish beliefs. However, the geographical provenance of the pa-

The PGM corpus was translated in 1986 (GMPT). Most of them are being re-edited as Greek and Egyptian Magical Formularies (GEMF): a first volume has been published (Faraone/Torallas Tovar 2022), but it does not include the papyrus under scrutiny here. See Dieleman 2005.

Note: This publication has been partly funded by the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union's Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement No 741182, Project "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms").

pyri and their pragmatic and hermeneutic strategies of ritual power have pointed to a sacerdotal milieu: the authors of the papyri are seen today as Egyptian priests, acting either as errant "magicians" who were acculturated to foreign stereotypes or as members of the Egyptian elite versed in multiple religious traditions.3 Whatever the case, the authors felt a need to compile innovative rituals, miniaturised to a personal or domestic size,<sup>4</sup> in order to invoke gods into apparitions and revelations, to curse and attract loved ones, to make oneself invisible or create amusing illusions at a party – to cite but a few effects of the ritual power.<sup>5</sup>

One of the most striking aspects of this ritual knowledge of the Imperial time is the abundant use of "barbaric names". <sup>6</sup> The barbarika onomata are sequences of words or sounds that do not make sense in Greek language: they include anything from Greek altered words and series of Greek vowels or meaningless gibberish to real transcriptions of foreign names such as the Biblical Iaō and Sabaōth, the Egyptian Phrē and Harponknouphi, or even Sumerian Ereschigal. Today, these complex ways of constructing divine power are frequently called "voces magicae", but in Ancient texts, they play an active role in a ritual empowerment of the agents and the objects. Precisely because of their conjunction of alterity and power, they appear to be a crucial element in the transmission of knowledge and authority among the ritual experts of the Imperial period. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that these name-workers tried to answer to the question What's in a name?

In this paper, we will focus on the role played by some of these onomata in a specific ritual attested in only one ritual handbook where the issue of the divine names is a central interest. PGM XIII is a 32-page-long papyrus codex, the first leaf of which is missing.7 It was written by two successive hands, the first one from pages 1 to 21, l. 23 (= PGM XIII, 1–935),8 replaced by a second hand from pages 21 to 25 (= PGM XIII, 936–1078), the last 7 pages remaining blank. The second hand also added marginalia in the upper margin of page 4 (four lines) and in the lower margin of pages 9 and 19 (respectively, two lines and three lines). Both hands date from the 4th century CE and copy previous manuscripts that are lost: therefore, the textual content of the papyrus is older and it is supposed that other versions circulated at the time of the codex. This led Morton Smith, English translator of PGM XIII in 1986, to hypothesise a philological development.9 However, his conclu-

Frankfurter 1997; Frankfurter 1998; Dieleman 2005; Escolano–Poveda 2020.

Smith 2003.

For a useful overview of the corpus, see Dieleman 2019. Brashear 1995, however outdated on some points after thirty years of research, is still recommendable.

Janowitz 2002; Tardieu/Van den Kerchove/Zago 2013; Soares Santoprete/Hoffmann 2017.

PLeid. I 395 = LDAB 5670 = TM 64446 = KYP M161. Ed. pr. by Leemans 1885. See translation and commentary by Daniel 1991, 32–81. Pictures of the papyrus can be accessed on the Rijksmuseum's website: https://www.rmo.nl/en/ (accessed 10/05/2023), Museum number: AMS 76.

I.e. l. 933 in Preisendanz's edition.

Cf. Smith 1984, 1986. Translation: GMPT 172–195. In this paper, we use Smith's translation with slight modifications.

sions are based on assumptions about the history of magic and an original text structure that most scholars no longer share.10 There are indeed several versions of the same ritual the purpose of which is to call on the god of the universe. For M. Smith, there are three of these versions (PGM XIII, 1–343, 343–646, 646–734) and he considered the next part (PGM XIII, 734–1077) to be mere addenda, linked with the previous ceremony as regards their themes, but disconnected from it in terms of the general codex structure. However, it is now considered that only two independent and slightly different versions of the same ritual are actually attested in PGM XIII (Fig. 1). In part A (l. 1–343), the purpose of the ritual is to get a powerful Name from the god during a revelation and from then on, to make use of it according to different recipes listed in an appendix at the end of part A. In part B, a second version of the ceremony is delivered, but it differs from A in its purpose (l. 343–734): instead of a Name, an astrological revelation about one's future is expected to be granted and predicted unfortunate events are to be cancelled by a prayer. Parts A and B eventually give redundant information. The last part of the codex (part C) contains another complex ceremony (l. 734–1078), which also consists in an invocation of the god of the universe, but whose praxis appears to be of a very different kind and relies on the singing of vowels and swallowing of their power.11 Since it gives the details of a different ritual, we will leave it aside and focus on parts A and B as two versions of the same ritual.

Fig. 1: Structure of PGM XIII.

Suarez 2013. Cf. Dorandi 2020. We had access to Gordon/Yuen-Collingridge 2022 after the completion of this paper, but it must be referred to for deeper analysis of the structure of the papyrus. Audureau 2021.

The grandiose ceremony in parts A and B was nicknamed kosmopoia from a term used by the copyist to refer to one part of the logoi (ritual speech) – and we will return to it later on. It is also known as the "Leiden ceremony" due to the place where the papyrus is currently kept. However, the purpose of the book copied in part A is to obtain the holy/pure Name (περὶ τοῦ ὀνόματος τοῦ ἁγίου, l. 3 – see Fig. 2), and the practice described in the second version, part B (l. 345–346), is entitled the "ritual of the Name which encompasses/surpasses everything" (τοῦ τὰ πάντα περιέχοντος ὀνόμα|τος). One copyist found several titles that he records in l. 731–734: The 8th hidden (book) of Moses, or Hidden book of Moses on the Great Name, book for many things, in which is the Name of the One who governs all things. The ritual leads to the knowledge of a divine Name, and our horizon here is the relationship between a ritual use of divine denominations and the textual manipulation of these names as a hermeneutical tool for reshaping divine traditions. On the linguistics, we remain in debt to former commentators such as Michel Tardieu and Michela Zago, and we mostly focus on the context of the enunciation, the role of names in ritual knowledge transmission and the structure of the texts. A very intricate network of names and ritual elements can inflict vertigo in what follows, but our aim is to show that it actually builds a well-constructed knowledge. A general overview of the text indicates that there is a coherent objective: to base a theological discourse on the exegesis of what it calls the "authentika onomata", the authentic, true, or maybe powerful names of the divine – the adjective may originally mean "doing by itself" and consequently "being powerful". This is not, therefore, a matter of truth, but a matter of power.12 Three strategies are at stake: the evidence of multilingualism, the weaving of names into narrative and the materialisation of the onomata in visual mediums. All strategies are given perspective when we consider the authoritative hermeneutics and general empowerment of the ritual expert.

PGM XIII, 141, 351, 388, 446, 622, 638. See also PGM I (= GEMF 31), 36, V, 363–364, IX, 14, XIV, 21 (= GEMF 16, 687).

Fig. 2: P. Leid. I 395, page 1. Photo of the National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden. CC0 1.0 (Public Domain).

# 1 Multilingualism, Narrative and Image: How to Make Sense and Act with a Network of Divine Names

In order to delve further into a detailed analysis of this document, it is necessary to sum up how the ritual works. After forty-one days of purification, the ceremony takes place on the first new moon of the year, that is, after the spring equinox. The seven days prior to the ritual, one has to "sleep on the ground on a pallet of rushes, rising at dawn [to] greet the Sun". <sup>13</sup> Once this preliminary part is completed, the main ritual begins at about eleven o'clock at night and consists mainly in prayers and invocations. There is a fire on the altar and two roosters are mentioned, for use in a sacrifice offering.14 At this time, the text requests the recital of "the Stele and the mystery of the god, which is [called?] Scarab". <sup>15</sup> The mystery in question is mentioned nowhere else in PGM XIII, while the Stele refers to a prayer written previously: on a square of natron – a sodium carbonate – a figure of a god must be drawn and an invocation written. After the recitation of the Stele, one side must be licked off and wine should be poured over the other, washing it off into a "crater containing milk of a black cow and wine not mixed with seawater". <sup>16</sup> A second invocation, the title of which is unclear, but which may refer to hermetism (Karl Preisendanz reads "Hermaikos", Fig. 3) must be recited over the bowl and then the beverage must be drunk. Then, the ritual agent can sleep on the mat, having at hand a tablet and a stylus in prevision of the revelation.

We will stop on a few, but nevertheless important, divine names written or pronounced in the prayers that give rhythm to the ritual. Curiously, when we delve into the configuration of the divine names, we see that two prayers (or logoi) work differently. One is the Stele that has to be both written on a material medium and pronounced at a key moment of the ritual; the other is the Hermaikos that repeats some sequences of the Stele in a more complex and exegetic way. This second logos is instantaneously followed by a cosmogonic narrative, the Kosmopoia. In the meantime, attention must be paid to the images described in the ritual prescription, for they also play a role in enacting the divine names. Prayer, exegesis, narrative and images all contribute to webbing together the knowledge on names around the human agent that manipulates them and, through them, builds a complex theological edifice.

PGM XIII, 116–117: χαμαικοιτῶν ἐπὶ ψιάθου θρυΐνης, | κατὰ πρωὶ ἀνιστανόμενος τὸν ἥλιον χαιρέτισον.

Johnston 2000; Zografou 2013.

PGM XIII, 127–128: ἄρξαι λέγειν τὴν στήλην | καὶ τὸ μυστήριον τοῦ θεοῦ, ὅ ἐστιν κάνθαρος.

PGM XIII, 129–130: ἔχεδὲ κρα|τῆρα παρακείμενον ἔχοντα γάλα μελαίν<η>ς βοὸς | καὶ οἶνον ἀθάλασ<σ>ον. The vessel is actually called a kratēr in Greek, which summons up the traditional mixing of wine and water during Greek sumposia.

Fig. 3: P. Leid. I 395, page 4. Photo of the National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden. CC0 1.0 (Public Domain).

As we saw, the Stele is both written on a natron square and spoken aloud. It starts with an invocation (ἐπικαλοῦμαί σε, "I call on you") of the god as the first creator of all, empowering the Sun and the Moon, invisible and eternal ("Aion of Aiones"). This first invocation is followed by three others based on the same formula: ἐπικαλοῦμαί σε, κύριε, "I call on you, lord . . ." This series of invocations runs according to the following structure (part A):

I call on you, lord, to appear to me in a good form, for under your order I serve your angel/ messenger, Biathiar barberbir schilatourbou phroumtrōm, and your fear, Danoupchrator belbalibalbith iaō. Through you arose the celestial pole and the earth.

I call on you, lord, as do the gods who appeared under your [order?] that they may have power: Echebukrōm of Helios, whose is the glory (οὗ ἡ δόξα), aaa ēēē ōōō iii aaa ōōō Sabaōth Arbathiaō Zagourō, the god Arathy Adōnaie.

I call on you, lord, in "birdglyphic" (ὀρνεογλυφιστί): Arai; in hieroglyphic: Lailam; in Hebraic: Anoch Biathiar bathberbir echilatourbou phroumtrom; in Egyptian: Aldabaeim; in "apelanguage" (κυνοκεφαλιστί): Abrasax; in "falcon-language" (ἱερακιστί): chi chi chi chi chi chi chi tiph tiph tiph; in hieratic: Menephōiphōth cha cha cha cha cha cha. 17

After 3 claps of the hands, a long popping sound and a long hissing that we shall explain later, the invocator closes the Stele with a request for epiphany, "for I have been initiated into your name". <sup>18</sup> The invocations of the Stele are pivotal in the claim for knowledge of the divine through names and they will appear, through our analysis, as the structural basis of the onomastic at work – we synthesise this complex onomastic labyrinth in Tab. 1, at the end of this paper. The first of these invocations gives two names, related respectively to the angel/messenger (ἄγγελος) of the god and to his fear (φόβος). The second invocation contains a long sequence supposedly used by other gods. The third invocation of the Stele gives a succession of names in different writing styles and languages, human as well as non-human ones: the writing of the birds (birdglyphic) as well as the sacred script (hieroglyphic) and the hieratic, the languages of the Hebrews, Egyptians, apes and falcons. It is a claim for global and linguistic knowledge that allows us to study how the ritual's author worked with multilingualism.

The Stele gives no further details. But the second prayer, that we call Hermaikos despite the complex reading of this word on the papyrus, recovers the sequences of these three invocations in a completely different manner.

PGM XIII, 71–87 (B: 582–600).

PGM XIII, 90: ὅτι τετέλεσμαί σου τὸ ὄνομα.

#### 1.1 Multilingualism

The Hermaikos starts with "I call on you who encompasses/surpasses everything (τὸν τὰ πάντα περιέχοντα), in every voice (φωνῇ) and in every language (διαλέκτῳ), as the first . . ." In version B of the Book of Moses, some titles given to the whole ritual, as we saw, qualified the Name of the god as "encompassing everything" (τὰ πάντα περιέχον). It is a prevalent idea that the god and his name are all encompassing, and this idea may govern the claim to call them in every voice and language – a distinction that could correspond to a dichotomy between human and non-human phōnai on one part, and the multiplicity of dialekta among humankind on the other part.<sup>19</sup>

After this clear and ambitious claim, the prayer continues with a first sequence of authentika onomata:

. . . I invoke you (ἐπικαλοῦμαί σε) (. . .) as he first sang you (ὕμνησέ σε) the one who was by you appointed and entrusted all the authentika: <sup>20</sup> "Helios Achebukrōm" (which means the flame and radiance of the disk), "whose is glory aaa ēēē ōōō" (because he was glorified by you who set the air and the stars of glittering forms, and who, in divine light, create the cosmos), "iii aaa ōōō" (in which you have set in order all things), "Sabaōth Arbathiaō Zagourē" (these are the first angels to appear), "Arath Adōnaie Basēmm Iaō." 21

This name corresponds to the whole sequence that, in the Stele, is the core of the second invocation. Here in the Hermaikos, the explanations cut the sequence into different sub-sequences and give meaning to each of them. Part B of the papyrus shows a few changes, combining iii aaa ōōō and Sabaōth Arbathiaō Zagourē into one sub-sequence and adding Araga at the beginning of the last one. The complete sequence of these authentika (onomata) would be Hēlios Achebukrōm | hou hē doxa aaa ēēē ōōō | iii aaa ōōō | Sabaōth Arbathiaō Zagourē | (Araga) Arath Adōnaie Basēmm Iaō. Greek words and vowels are combined with several Hebrew names and one Egyptian formula (Achebukrōm, referring to the radiance of the sun disk). Whatever the etymological meaning of the phrase, what is interesting is the effort dedicated to giving the sequence sense and order (Tab. 1, part 2). This artificial bricolage structures a divine configuration and taxonomy under the first god: after the Sun comes the sky, the cosmos and the seven aggeloi. These aggeloi bear Semitic names and complete the cosmological hierarchy.22 Therefore, the whole sequence can indeed be read as a panta periechon onoma, a "Name that encompasses everything".

See another case of multiple denominations attributed to different languages in PGM XII, 260–267.

Morton Smith translated "with all authorities".

PGM XIII, 138–147.

Zago 2013, 213–216: Sabaoth ("Lord of the armies"), Arbathiao ("the Tetragrammaton YHWH"), Zagoure ("Pure Light"), Araga/Arath (more difficult to explain), Adonaie ("Lord"), Basemm Iao ("the Name of YHWH").

Right after that comes the text corresponding to the last invocation of the Stele, that is, the multilingual sequence. Linguistic diversity certainly appears here as a means of reproducing, in language, the extension of divine power to the entire universe of beings. Some glosses can also be seen to explain the various divine names mentioned in this prayer; they have been underlined in the following quotation, from the "Hermaikos" logos:

The first angel/messenger cries in birdglyphic Arai (which is ["Woe to my enemy" – and you have set him]23 in charge of the punishments). The Sun hymns you in hieroglyphic Lailam, and in Hebrew by his own name, Anok Biathiar barberbir schilatourbou phroumtrōm (36 letters); he says, "I precede you, lord, I who rise on the boat of the sun, the disk, thanks to you". Your natural name (τὸ δὲ φυσικόν σου ὄνομα) <sup>24</sup> in Egyptian is Aldabaeim (9 letters, see below) [Here, version B does not count letters, but says: "This means the boat, on which he comes up, rising on the world" 25]. Now, he who appears on the boat rising together with you is a clever ape; he greets you in his own language, saying: "You are the number of the year, Abrasax". The falcon on the other end [of the boat] greets you in his own language and cries out to receive food, chi chi chi chi chi chi chi ti ti ti ti ti ti ti. He of the nine forms greets you in hieratic, menephōiphōth (meaning "I go before you, lord"). . . <sup>26</sup>

Once again, the name as it is found in the Stele is expanded by glosses interpolated in the text so that it makes sense (Tab. 1, part 3). We are under the impression that, at some stage in the text transmission, copyists worried about giving a semantic value to certain formulas, even though these glosses are not systematic. At the same time, the reiteration of the invocations of the Stele with glosses gives sense to the title of this logos, "hermaic" – however difficult it is to read on the papyrus – as a text that "translates" or "explains" (hermeneuein).<sup>27</sup> Names are explained thanks to (sometimes false) translations and numerical values. Abrasax, for instance, is accurately linked to the number of days in a year since its numerical value is indeed 365,28 but this becomes a complete sentence in the translation. Menephōiphōth may be read as "I am before god's face" (Coptic), though "I go before you" can be rooted in etymology.29 However, rather than providing an etymology as a basis for ritual efficiency, these glosses aim at depicting a divine portrait.

All the addenda to the prayer, while giving an exegesis, allow for a visualisation of the boat of the Sun, preceded by a first aggelos and meeting an enneamorphos (nine-formed) god. On the boat are the Sun god and two animals, the ape and the fal-

Here, it is emended by Preisendanz according to part B.

See Zago 2013.

PGM XIII, 462–463.

PGM XIII, 147–161 (part B: l. 454–471).

A suggestion already made by Zago 2013, 212. On the meaning of hermeneuein and the hermeneia, see Bettini 2012.

Harrauer 2006. Each Greek letter corresponds to a number. When the letters composing abrasax are added together, they make 365.

Zago 2013, 217.

con. At the centre, the boat itself has a "natural" name in Egyptian. This structuration of the Sun boat echoes actual images such as those found on several "magical" gems, where the Sun is represented as a child god on a papyrus boat, faced by an ape and two falcons (Fig. 4). One can also find Osiris and Sarapis associated with this configuration (Fig. 5). While the Name and its glosses make the animal speak, the image evoked to the mind is a vivid, dynamic configuration of the solar deity, and an Egyptian one at that. But the claim for multilingualism is not based on an accurate repartition of the languages. If the cry of the falcon honestly resembles a real falcon in flight, the etymology of Lailam cannot be found in Egyptian hieroglyphics and may well be Aramaic for "The Eternal One" – as far as modern etymologies of ancient barbarika onomata go.<sup>30</sup> We will explore this further with the case of the Biathiar‑ sequence in order to demonstrate that linguistics is less of a concern for the ritual expert than the general theology it serves.

Fig. 4: Jasper, 3rd c. CE, 12 x 16 x 2 mm. Obv.: Child Sun seated on a lotus flower in a papyrus boat, holding a flail in the left hand, right hand on the mouth. A star and a crescent moon on top of the field, adoring ape in the boat in front of the god, a falcon at both ends of the boat. Rev.: Ἀβρασαξ. British Museum, G 522 (EA 56522). Bibliography: Michel 2001, no. 123; Michel 2004, no. 19.3.d\_3; Campbell Bonner database 523. Photo: Christopher A. Faraone, © Trustees of the British Museum.

Biathiar‑ is introduced in this passage as a Hebraic name of the supreme solar god addressed in the invocation. However, the content of the invocative part relative to Hebrew starts with a Coptic word, anoch, which means "I am". <sup>31</sup> The word Biathiar could mean "eye of Horus" in Egyptian as well.<sup>32</sup> Barberbir, however, is more obscure: it could be related to the Coptic meaning "to bubble up", a verb that may refer to the sight of the god which creates a bubbling of life.33 As for phroumtrom, it likely means "mouth of fire". <sup>34</sup> Furthermore, the name is glossed thrice to indicate the number of

Zago 2008, 213.

l'olam, Brashear 1995.

GMPT 332.

PGM III, 673.

Zago 2008, 213. See PGM V, 154; VII, 245–246; VIII, 93–94.

Fig. 5: Jasper, 27 x 20 x 3 mm. Obv.: Osiris in front, mummified, crowned with the atef-crown and ram horns, on a papyrus boat; on his right a goddess with horns and a sun-disk on her head, a sistrum in her hand, on his left a goddess crowned with atef-crown and a sistrum; on the right end of the boat, an ape, on the left end, a falcon. Rev.: Sarapis in front, face turned to the right, mummified, standing on a pedestal and crowned with a modius; surrounding inscription: Βαινχωωωχ. Ann Arbor, University of Michigan, SCL-Bonner 56. Bibliography: Bonner 1950, no. D.1; Michel 2004, no. 39.4.a\_2; Campbell Bonner database 462. Photo Christopher A. Faraone, © C.A. Faraone, Ann Arbor, Special Collections Library.

letters it is composed of: thirty-six grammata. <sup>35</sup> This number stands for the decans, an astronomical division of the sky according to the solar circle during the year which is of Egyptian origin. Therefore, the name refers to the sun and, by metonymy, to the whole universe the sun travels around. The invocator neither makes sense of the name from its meaning nor its origin, and the ritual power relies on the illusion of diversity that the various names create. The focus on oddity may be a ritual strategy to exceed the limits of human languages in order to reach a divine and universal reality, and the multiplicity of languages mentioned in this prayer, including animal languages, can be linked to an emphasis on the inherent divine power of names. Here, unintelligible names serve to catch the divine essence in its infinite aspects beyond the intelligible and restrictive extent of words.

(Anoch) Biathiar barberbir echilatourbou phroumtrōm occurs in an invocation taking various forms throughout the text and is written on nine occurrences within the codex, four times in part A and five times in part B. Actually, this divine name appears in three different contexts which can provide insight into its value. The first one, as we saw, is the Stele, with a first formula that says "I serve your angel Biathiar-" and a second which, adding the Anoch element, is the supposedly "Hebraic" name. The second context is the "Hermaikos" that has to be recited, but this time, it is not "I" the invocator who names the god, but the Sun himself: "The Sun hymns you in hieroglyphic, Lailam, in Hebrew by his own name Anoch Biathiar-". Now, the "Hermaikos" states that this (faked) Hebrew name is of the Sun and by the Sun, but complements all other names to address the all-

PGM XIII, 151; passim.

encompassing god himself. In the third context, the names are not to be recited, they appear instead in a narrative.

#### 1.2 Narrative

Likewise, it is possible to give a linguistic explanation for another major divine name used by the Stele in the first invocation. Indeed, according to Michel Tardieu, Danoup chratōr belbali balbith iaō can be understood as a name composed of Greek and Hebrew.36 Providing we interpret Danoup as an anagram for panto‑ (tanop sounding like danoup), the first two words are the equivalent of pantocratōr. For the next sequence, M. Tardieu suggests that b'l-b'ly(m), b'l-byt-yhw means "tout-puissant, maître des maîtres, maître de la maison de Yahō". But while the copyist could possibly have ensured the understanding and transmission of the original meaning by providing a translation, they opted for another explanatory strategy, namely a textual bricolage. As we will see below, this bricolage sheds light, not on the meaning, but on the pragmatics of these two names (biathiarbar and danoup chratōr) and their ritual efficiency.

Another treatment of the names is developed in a very important section located in parts A (l. 161–206) and B (l. 471–563). It is named the Kosmopoia and is actually an extensive mythological excursus on world creation slotted into the framework of the Ritual of the Name which encompasses everything. This narrative account does not share the generic characteristics of ritual texts, it bears no clear relation with the ritual underway and suddenly interrupts the instructions on l. 161 (A) and l. 471 (B) in the middle of a prayer – the prayer that part A calls "Hermaikos". In part B, the first sentence after the prayer starts with εἰπὼν ("having said"), giving a reader used to this kind of recipes reason to expect that the prayer has been achieved and that a new order is about to be given to a second person subject ("Having said this prayer, you should do such and such a thing"). But the aorist verb tense and the third person ἐκρότησε ("He clapped") cannot refer to σύ ("you"), nor to any previous subject. The subject is actually postponed after the second verb ἐγέλασεν ("he laughed") and appears to be ὁ θεὸς ("the god") (l. 472). Obviously, this is where a new section dealing with the cosmogony begins. It does not seem intended to be recited as a logos; it is rather a suddenly juxtaposed patchwork-like narrative. The question is: why did the copyist insert this mythological excerpt into the ritual text? If we pay attention to the various names that this cosmogonic account mentions, we will notice that some of them are already attested in other logoi of the ceremony, and they are precisely the most important ones.

According to the Kosmopoia, in primeval times, the god of the universe laughed seven times (cha cha cha cha cha cha cha). In the Stele, this sound is already present:

Tardieu 1987, 298.

when the name is declined in different languages, the "hieratic" name is Menephōiphōth cha cha cha cha cha cha cha (seven times): the "Hermaikos" attributes Menephōiphōth to an enneamorphos god who claims to be placed before the god. But here, the "Hermaikos" does not abide by the seven laughs and they seem to have been moved to the Kosmopoia section, where they are glossed by this long narrative. Each one of the seven laughs, indeed, makes a new divine reality appear and receive a divine name. To summarise the creation process, it begins with (1) the apparition of light as the first cosmological event; then, it proceeds to (2) the division of the primeval waters and the apparition of a god in charge of the abyss, (3) the creation of the Intellect (Νοῦς or Φρένες), (4) a life principle (Γέννα) and (5) a world-ordering principle (Μοῖρα). (6) The next stage consists in the creation of time (Καιρός) with the sun and the moon. The final (7) laugh of the supreme god creates the soul (Ψυχή). Let us focus first on the narrative of the sixth stage as it appears in version B:

He laughed the sixth time and was much gladdened, and Time (Καιρός) appeared, holding a sceptre, indicating kingship, and he gave over the sceptre to the first-created god (= Light, Φῶς), who receiving it said: "You, wrapping yourself in the glory of Light (τὴν δόξαν τοῦ Φωτὸς), will be after me, because you first gave me a sceptre. All things will be subjects to you, those that were before and those yet to be. All power will be in you". When [Time] wrapped himself in the glory of Light (τοῦ Φωτὸς τὴν δόξα<ν>), the disk which turns around Light produced a certain effluence (τινα αὔραν). The god said to the queen: "You, wrapping yourself in the effluence of Light (τὴν αὔραν τοῦ Φωτὸς), you will be after him and will encompass the whole universe (περιέχουσα τὰ πάντα). You will wax with the light you receive from him, and again you will wane because of him. With you, everything will increase and diminish". So the great and marvellous name (τὸ ὄνομα μέγα καὶ θαυμαστόν) is anag biathiar barberbi schilatour bouphrountōrm (36 letters).37

In Kairos and the Queen (βασιλίσση) it is easy to recognise a designation of the sun and the moon. Biathiar‑ is mentioned in this mythological excursus as "the great and marvellous name" related to the creation of the sun and the moon. So, instead of giving the linguistic meaning of the Biathiar-formula in the form of a translation, as was done for other names, the text provides a narrative value. On top of a cosmological reference, this value also contains a theological and hierarchical statement about the powers in the universe: after the supreme god comes the sun, then the moon depends on the sun. The whole mythological excursus works as a historiola to empower the names that the ritualist uses during the ceremony.38 The cosmological value of the Biathiarbar-formula is indeed activated during the ceremony, for the text of the Stele written on the natron clearly states:

PGM XIII, 506–520.

Frankfurter 2001.

Under your cosmos (ὑπὸ τὸν σὸν κόσμον), I am the servant (δουλεύω) of your angel/messenger anog biathiar barberbi schilatourbou phrountōrm and of your fear danoupchrantor belbalibalbith iaō. Through you the celestial pole and the earth were set together.39

M. Smith's translation of ὑπὸ τὸν σὸν κόσμον by "under your order" is unsatisfying here since it wipes out the explicit cosmological value of κόσμος, which hints at the world creation accounted in the myth, while adding a connotation more appropriate to ἐντολή ("command"), for example. Kosmos, indeed, can describe a well-ordered universe, but cannot be taken as a synonym for "command" as in French or English. Still, along with δουλεύω it is true that ὑπὸ connotes a hierarchic meaning too. The entire phrase may be difficult to render simply: the human being is placed in the universe (certainly in its lower part) as an obedient subordinate at the service of the supreme god's emanations. Indeed, the "angel" or "messenger" of the god (τῷ σῷ ἀγγέλῳ) bears the "great and marvellous" name Biathiar‑ that the Kosmopoia connects with the aforementioned sixth stage and the creation of the sun. And, on the same principle, the "Fear" (τῷ σῷ Φόβῳ) of the god can be linked by its name Danoup chratōr‑ with the seventh and final stage of the cosmogony.

We have seen the possible linguistic explanation of this name; the narrative of the Kosmopoia provides another kind of explanation. Psyche's birth upon the seventh laugh is indeed immediately followed by a cosmic event. When the soul (Ψυχή) is created, the whole universe is in motion – animated:

When the god saw this, he made "pop" (ἐπόππυσεν), and everything was terrified (ἐθαμβήθη), and through the popping (διὰ τοῦ ποππυσμοῦ) the Fear (Φόβος) appeared armed. He is called Danoupchratōr berbalibalbithi (26 letters). Then, [the god] looked down to the earth and gave a loud hiss (ἐσύρισε), and the earth received the echo (τὸν ἦχον) and opened. It gave birth to an animal of its own, the Pythian serpent, who foreknew everything through the utterance (διὰ τὸν φθόγγον) of the god. Its great and holy name (τὸ ὄνομα μέγα καὶ ἅγιον) is: Ililloui Ililloui Ililloui ithōr marmaraugō phōchō phōbōch. When it appeared, the earth (ἡ γῆ) heaved and was raised much higher, but the celestial pole (ὁ πόλος) stayed unmoved and was about to join [the earth]. But the god said: iaō, and everything was fixed in place. And a great god very great (μέγας θεὸς μέγιστος) appeared, who established the things that were before in the kosmos and the things yet to be, so that none of the aerial bodies was thenceforth out of place.

When the Fear saw someone stronger than himself, he opposed him saying: "I am prior to you (σοῦ πρῶτός εἰμι)". However, the other replied: "But I established everything (ἀλλ' ἐγὼ πάντα ἔστησα)". The god declared: "You come from an echo (ἐξ ἤχους), but this one from an utterance (ἐκ φθόγγου). Now an utterance is better than an echo. The power (ἡ δύναμίς) of you [Iaō], who appeared last, will derive from both, so that all things may be fixed in their places". And he was thenceforth called by the great and marvellous name (τὸ ὄνομα μέγα καὶ θαυμαστόν) Danoup chratōr berbalibalbith iaō. 40

PGM XIII, 582–586. Cf. PGM XIII, 72–76; 617–618.

PGM XIII, 526–554.

Three divine emanations follow the animation of the world with Ψυχή: the Fear (Φόβος), named Danoup chratōr-; the Pythian serpent, named Ililloui Ililloui Ililloui ithōr marmaraugō phōchō phōbōch; <sup>41</sup> and Iaō. Here, part A is much simpler, for the Pythian serpent emerges first from a hiss of the god, followed by an "armed man" (who is not identified as Phobos, but the god creates him with a "pop" emitted out of fear), and then the echo Iaō. Both the armed god and Iaō are put in charge of everything. In part B, the apparition of Phobos and the serpent threatens to destroy everything that has just been created. Interestingly enough, this pair makes reference to the Greek myth of the Pythian serpent and Apollo, whose other name – Phoibos – is alluded to by the paronomasia with Phobos.

Therefore, while the ritual ceremony aims either to make magical use of a divine name to act on upcoming events (part A) or to proceed to a divinatory consultation in order to discover and modify one's future (part B), the narrative seems to deal with the ability of foreknowledge to bring disorder to a previously well-ordered divine cosmos. In other words, the myth and the names it contains could encode a kind of reflection on the ritual itself. Indeed, like the divine echo which, by creating the Pythian serpent, provokes the raising of the earth, the divine Name that the ritual experts can use for various purposes in part A is able to perturb the already-fixed worldly order; likewise, the oracular consultation in part B is aimed at transforming the previouslyfixed events. These are perturbations which can be perceived as entering in conflict with the eternal divine organisation and providence. Yet, the threat posed to the universe is resolved by one last divine emanation (Iaō) the function of which is to reestablish order in the universe (ἐγὼ πάντα ἔστησα) and to fight against destruction. The antagonism between order and disorder is well epitomised in the conflict between Phobos and Iaō for priority: "I am prior to you" says Phobos to Iaō (σοῦ πρῶτός εἰμι). Finally, the supreme god settles the question and gives a new name to Iaō. This new name is created by adding the name Phobos (the Danoup chratōr‑ name) before Iaō. So, it comes first from a chronological point of view, but the whole name including Iaō is superior. This name derivation reflects the power and duties of both gods. The final name Danoup chratōr . . . Iaō is therefore in charge of fixing everything after they are threatened by a disorder-creating name. The adjunction of Iaō at the end of Danoup chratōr‑ may also create a more complete name since it is now composed of 28 letters instead of the 26 letters previously mentioned by the text for Danoup chratōr‑ (the iota at the end of Danoup chratōr‑ is not doubled when adding Iaō, so only two letters are actually added). The number 28 is famously known to embody the symbolic meaning of perfection and completeness.<sup>42</sup>

Tardieu, 1987, 298, explains this name as 'l-'llhy(m) eiat-hōr mármar(os) augē hof o b(ai-n–khō)ōkh, which means "dieu des dieux (x3), œil d'Horus, éclat resplendissant, grand serpent, esprit de la ténèbre".

Audureau 2021.

Phobos emerges from a sound, a poppusmos that may be the initial p(h)‑ sound of his Greek name,<sup>43</sup> and takes on the name Danoup chratōr-; the drakōn emerges from a hissing sound s‑ and takes on the name Ilillou-. Then, to face the threat, another sound, Iaō, gives birth to the eponymous god who challenges Phobos and the Pythian drakōn, as order challenging chaos, who is attributed both their powers: he now supplies and takes on the name Danoup chratōr-. There is a hierarchy in the phonetic ontology of the Kosmopoia: <sup>44</sup> the p(h)‑ sound creating Phobos is an utterance, while the s‑ sound creating the serpent is an echo; both are submitted to the word-god Iaō. The result is that, by using these names during the ritual ceremony, the human being plays a new part in the cosmogony and extends the mythological story in a new form. The narrative excursus therefore displays a kind of basis for the ritual action. Not only does the myth provide an explanation for various divine names used during the ceremony, but it also states that the human agency can be conceived, at least in some way, as an imitation, and maybe a re-enactment, of the divine power. Indeed, in both parts, A and B, the human being must declare "Lord, I imitate you [by saying] the seven vowels". <sup>45</sup> Then, in part B only, they must utter the name composed of 26 letters, that is Danoup chratōr. <sup>46</sup> This may point directly to the final stage of the myth, when the supreme god must intercede.

#### 1.3 Image

The phonetic creation of the kosmos reflects on the "name" written on the natron. To be precise, the name is drawn, more than written, on one face of the natron square:

As for the name [of the great god], write (γράψον) all of it on the Greek natron. Instead of the "pop pop pop" sound (τοῦ ποππυσμοῦ) [in the name] draw (γράψον) on the Greek natron a falcon-formed crocodile, for he greets the god four times a year at the gods' powerful entries of new periods (αὐθεντικαῖς νεομηνίαις).47

Here, the description is explained: the falcon-headed crocodile is the figurative form of the poppusmos, and an entity that greats the Sun, with this sound, every new season of the year. This timely entity, that the exegesis of the Kosmopoia would relate to

The pronunciation of the letter φ is uncertain, since it previously sounded like an aspirated "p", as in English "pot", before it came to be pronounced like the "f" in "foot".

See Crippa 2012.

PGM XIII, 700–701: κύριε, ἀπομιμοῦμαί σε ταῖς ζʹ φωναῖς. Cf. XIII, 206–207.

PGM XIII, 529.

PGM XIII, 383–388.

the Phobos, "received the forms and the power of the nine gods that rise with the Sun" <sup>48</sup> – who these nine gods are will become clear in a moment.

This power and form of the falcon-headed crocodile, aka "poppusmos", is given to him by a "nine-formed" god. We have met this enneamorphos entity, who says Menephōiphōth in "hieratic" language, right before the seven laughs and the start of the Kosmopoia. He precedes the Sun boat and might be given more importance in this new graphic sequence. Returning to the description of the name-drawing on the natron, the text says:

Accordingly, draw both in myrrh-ink, that is the falcon-faced (ἱερακοπρόσωπον) crocodile and the enneamorphos standing on him. For the falcon-faced crocodile at the four turnings [of the year] greets the god with his popping noise. For coming up to breathe from the deep he goes popping and the enneamorphos replies to him antiphonally. Therefore, instead of the popping, draw the falcon-faced crocodile, for the popping is the first element of the name. The second is a hissing, and instead of the hissing [draw] a serpent biting its own tail. The two elements, popping and hissing, are [represented by] a falcon-faced crocodile and the enneamorphos standing on it, and around these a serpent and the seven vowels.<sup>49</sup>

This is how to write/draw the "9 onomata": the nine-formed entity standing on the falcon-headed crocodile, both in the centre of a graphic composition surrounded by the ouroboros snake and the series of the seven vowels. Seven vowels that may well record the seven laughs and gods of the Kosmopoia, followed by the p(h)‑ sound of Phobos and the s‑ sound of the Pythian snake – so: nine letters. All nine are merged into the name of a nine-formed god, one might think. Phonetically, the sequence closely resembles the Egyptian name of the god of time and destiny, Pshaï. <sup>50</sup> While the Kosmopoia gives a narrative to the naming and phonetic ontology of the world, the natron gives matter and image to the very same ontology of the god.<sup>51</sup> The "great name with seven vowels" (l. 39–53 and see l. 383–423) is written on the natron as the "9 onomata" – p(h) s a e ē iou ō –, and as such, it encompasses everything.

Another god is important given the divinatory nature of the ritual: Apollon (l. 103–114 and 659–670). He is to be drawn on a root of laurel with the tripod and Python, therefore in his Greek image, but named on the same piece of wood by a "great name in an Egyptian form": the palindrom Bainchōōōchōōōchniab on his chest, Ilillou Ilillou Ilillou on the back, Ithōr Marmaraugē Phōkōphōbōch around the tripod and the snake. We came across the sequence Ilillou Ilillou Ilillou Ithōr Marmaraugē Phōchōphōbōch as a name for the Pythian serpent in the Kosmopoia. Here, etymological hypotheses would read a multilingual net of Semitic, Egyptian and Greek com-

PGM XIII, 395–397: τῶν ἐννέα θεῶν τῶν ἀνατελλόντων σὺν τῷ ἡλίῳ ἔλαβε τὰς μορφὰς καὶ τὴν δύναμιν.

PGM XIII, 409–423.

Merkelbach 1992, 59–60. See also Quaegebeur 1975, 166–175.

Galoppin 2021.

pounds meaning "God of gods (thrice), Eye of Horus, Bright light, Great snake". 52 There is also an argument in favour of the wordplay between Phobos and Phoibos. The Fear of the god might also be Apollon, the patron of all mantic activities. This reclaims a Greek prominent figure into a new divine configuration: Bainchōōōch-, written on his chest, is Egyptian for "the b' from the darkness", an emerging light.<sup>53</sup> The piece of wood combining Greek image and Egyptian name is to be worn around the neck with cinnamon and acts as a phylactery: the divine image is an object of power, protecting the ritualist while he meets with a higher power.

In the course of the ritual, the technical expertise relies on a variety of skills and mediums. The ritual expert combines iconographic and onomastic attributes with a variety of materials. Writing is supplemented by acts of speech: the image-text name, carved onto the bloc of natron is activated by a recitation of the whole system of names. Therefore, the visual form of the name maintains a connection with its phonetic aspect, the cosmological importance of which is enlightened by the myth. The natron inscribed with the name is also licked and drenched in a mixture of milk and wine to be drunk, the name becoming bodily appropriated by the ritualist. Phonetic, visible and drinkable, the name is definitely sensitive, materialised by a multisensorial technique. It embodies the divine power rather than being pure intellectual representation of the divine, and this embodiment is channelled here by and through the human agent themselves. Making and incorporating divine names is inherent to the transmission of knowledge about divine names which is a sensorial creation and an embodiment of the gods that requires specific ingredients, a specific state, precise conditions and a well-arranged progression – all the components of a recipe.

# 2 Authority of Knowledge and Empowerment of Names

#### 2.1 The Knowledge of the Name is Power

The aim of the ritual, in part A at least, is to obtain the true Name from the god himself and, to do so, the ritual arranges a meeting with the deity.<sup>54</sup> The whole, complex operation ends with the epiphany of the god, while the invocator is under a tent erected in a purified room, on the ground, upon a rush mat and ready to write on a tablet (πίναξ):55

See note 41, supra.

Eg. B' n kkw.

On these divine apparitions in the PGM, see Dosoo 2014.

PGM XIII, 646; 702–704.

When the god comes in, look down and write the things he says and the Name which he gives you for himself (δίδωσίν σοι αὑτοῦ ὀνομασίαν). And do not go out from under your tent until he tells you accurately, too, the things that concern you.<sup>56</sup>

In an anticipating description of the apparition, part B depicts the god standing and answering the questions of the invocator after receiving his homage:

Now, when the god comes in do not stare at his face, but look at his feet while beseeching him, as written above, and giving thanks that he did not treat you contemptuously, but you were thought worthy of the things about to be said to you for correction of your life. You, then, ask, "Master, what is fated for me?" And he will tell you even about your star, and what kind of daimon you have, and your horoscope and where you may live and where you will die. And if you hear something bad, do not cry out or weep, but ask that he may wash it off or circumvent it, for this god can do everything. Therefore, when you begin questioning, thank him for having heard you and not overlooked you.57

Here is a protocol for addressing a god as a "Master" (Δεσπότης). The addresser must be grateful (εὐχάριστος) for being privileged by the deity. According to this passage, more than the Name, the human subordinate asks about the fate (εἱμαρμένη) decided for themselves, in astrological terms, and for a change in case of bad omens. In classifying terms, the whole procedure is a ritual of divination and propitiation, while from a relational perspective we observe a petition from one subordinate human agent to a divine master.<sup>58</sup> Title and marks of deference show that the transmission of divine knowledge is an up-down process between a master and his subordinate.

As we stated earlier, the second version puts the emphasis on this petitionary divination, while the first one focuses on learning the divine Name, or "whatever [the god] will give you as his denomination". <sup>59</sup> Part A adds, at the end, different "uses" (χρεῖαι) of the book (l. 231–342), which are a list of miracles to be performed with the Name:

Here is the first marvellous invisibility (ἡ θαυμάσιος ἀμαυρά). Take a falcon egg and gild half of it, smearing the other half with cinnabar. Wearing this, you will be invisible when you pronounce the Name (ἐπιλέγων τὸ ὄνομα).

To attract, in front of the sun, utter the Name 3 times (εἰπὲ γʹ τὸ ὄνομα): it attracts a woman to a man and a man to a woman so well that you will be amazed (ὥστε θαυμάσαι).

If you want someone to be repulsive, either a man to a woman or a woman to a man, take dog excrements and put them on the post-hole of their door, utter the Name 3 times (εἰπὼν τὸ ὄνομα γʹ), saying (λέγων) "I cut NN from NN."

PGM XIII, 210–213.

PGM XIII, 704–716.

This calls for a comparison with hierarchical interactions in the human sphere, something we are unable to address in this paper.

PGM XIII, 211 (A): ἣν δίδωσίν σοι αὑτοῦ ὀνομασίαν. Id. l. 565–566 (B).

If you utter the Name to a demoniac (δαιμονιζομένῳ) while putting sulphur and asphalt to his nose, he will speak at once and be released.<sup>60</sup>

This list goes on and provides different "uses" of the Name that we could classify as "magic", while the text only marks it as "marvellous" (θαυμάσιος).61 At that point, the Name is already imbued with power and, uttered in specific situations and sometimes with specific ingredients or explicit formulae, it can perform precise, miraculous actions.<sup>62</sup> The ritual expert who seeks knowledge of the Name is, here, empowered by it and becomes a miracle-worker, indulging in thaumaturgy. In this perspective, they inherit from the figures of wise, wonder-making, Egyptian priests, crossing the Nile on the backs of crocodiles<sup>63</sup> or animating corpses:<sup>64</sup>

Awaking of dead body: "I adjure you, pneuma roaming in the air, come, inflate (ἐνπνευμάτωσον), empower (δυνάμωσον), arouse with the power of the eternal god this body, and let it walk around this place, for I am the one who acts with the power of Thauth, holy god." Say the Name.<sup>65</sup>

This, mostly literary, figure of the Egyptian priest, agent of the god of ritual knowledge Thot in life as in demotic novels,66 once fuses with Christian figures of thaumaturgy who are freed from their bounds by divine intervention:67

Release from bounds (Δεσμόλυτον). Say: "Hear me, Chrestos, in tortures, help in necessities, merciful in times, who died violently, very powerful in the world, creator of necessity and retribution and torture". 12 days, hiss thrice eight times, and say the entire Name of the Sun starting from <A>chebukrōm. 68

The prescriptions generally follow a pattern, with the mention of the utterance of the Name: here, the Name is clearly identified as the Name of the Sun beginning with Achebukrōm or Echebukrōm. As we saw, this word is already used in the ritual to be performed before. Here, we notice a disturbing paradox: the ritual prescription is meant to learn a divine name which it already uses to do so. One solution is to think that, with the epiphany of the god, the name which encompasses everything is empowered by the divine apparition, and that the whole ritual procedure, building a complex theology around the name, creates the conditions to change the ritual expert into a miracle-worker who is truly empowered by their knowledge and enactment of the divine Name.


PGM XIII, 234–244.

Gordon 1997.

Crippa 2019. See Iamb., Myst. 8.5.259.

PGM XIII, 282–288 ("I you want to cross on a crocodile . . . "). Luc., Philops. 34.

Fight for the Armure of Inaros 1.25–2; Apul., Met. 28–30.

PGM XIII, 277–282.

Escolano–Poveda 2020.

#### 2.2 Multiculturalism and Claim of Authority

If knowledge of names and the Name is a core issue of the ritual prescription, the ritual "revelation" of the Name by the god may have more to do with a gift of power and agency than with pure knowledge and intellection. With so much power at stake, ritual knowledge must be carefully wrapped in authoritative strategies of validation.<sup>69</sup> The attribution of the "book" to Moses is an apocryphal claim of authority like many others in late antiquity. As such, it belongs nevertheless to the history of Jewish magic and bears some relation with Salomonic literature, as exemplified in the Hygromanteia, for instance.<sup>70</sup> Like in this work, in PGM XIII a teacher can be seen addressing a "child" in order to make him "initiated", right between the prescription of the divination ritual and the list of miraculous actions:

The ceremony (τελετὴ) called The Monad has been fully declared to you, child. I shall add for you, child, also the practical uses of this sacred book, the things which all the wise men (σοφισταὶ) accomplished (ἐτέλησαν) with this sacred and blessed book. As I made you swear, child, in the sanctuary of Jerusalem, when you have been filled with the divine wisdom, dispose of the book so that it will not be found.<sup>71</sup>

The temple of Jerusalem is clearly referenced here to support the authoritative claim of belonging to a Jewish tradition and to make the ceremony holier. Jerusalem is cited again later for the same purpose. Besides, what is very noticeable in this claim is the dispute with another famous religious and magical authority, Hermes, who is accused of plagiarism when the writer addresses seven sacred incenses in Moses' book.<sup>72</sup> What this apparent bibliographic erudition shows is that the ritual experts attribute their use of divine names to many authorities, but it does not display a specific way of addressing the divine and naming the gods. It is a metadiscourse enfolding the ritual practice. Here, the name dropping answers to a need of authorial, written, tradition: the book is fed on books.73

Obviously, the authors of this text are trying to shape a ritual tradition exclusive from all others and to establish their ritual and theological knowledge as specific to this tradition. In actual fact, very little evidence of Hebraic words in the onomata barbara contained in this codex can be found in support of such a claim, and even though Hebraic names can be found here and there in the PGM, they do not prove a Jewish intervention since they could be merely a veneer and the whole ritual seems rather to stem from a Greco-Egyptian milieu.<sup>74</sup>

Gordon 2012.

Torijano 2013.

PGM XIII, 230–234.

PGM XIII, 14–16.

We are in the world described by Stroumsa 2016.

Bohak 2003.

We left aside another impressive ritual, part C of the codex. Contrary to the two versions of the first ritual, it does not intend to achieve a name or a revelation, but rather aims to be conjoined with the god. The ceremony implies the use of many different names, mainly the seven vowels, which must be recited according to a precise scheme, written on a gold lamella and then licked off. Another lamella, made of silver, is also inscribed with the seven vowels, but kept aside as a phylactery. The result of the procedure is summed up at the end of the prayer: "I am conjoined with you, O great one, and I have you in my heart". After that, a list of recipes follows the prayer, like in part A. The ritual agent is thus identified with the divine, and seemingly, the ceremony grants him power over the whole world. This share in divine power is similar to the one offered by the Ritual of the Name which encompasses everything. There, a complex web of names and mostly unintelligible denominations tied together by exegesis, narration and visual support, progressively build a discourse on the divine, an actual "theology" in the etymological sense (Tab. 1). The fabric of names and their transmission is entirely bound to the ritual making of the divine, and here the very re-enactment of a universe in the making. After all, the very name Kosmopoia does not refer to the myth, as we might expect, but to the prayer itself "whose beginning is: 'I invoke you who encompasses the whole world . . .'"<sup>75</sup>

#### Audureau-Galoppin, The All-Encompassing Name.




PGM XIII, 697–698: λέγε τὴν 'κοσμοποιίαν', ἧς ἀρχή· ἐπικαλοῦμαί σε τὸν τὰ πάντα περιέχοντα.

#### Tab. 1 (continued)


### Bibliography


Gordon, Richard L. / Yuen-Collingridge, Rachel (2022), "GEMF 60 (= PGM XIII): A Study of Material, Scribal, and Compositional Issues", in: Christopher A. Faraone, Sofia Torallas Tovar (eds.), The Greco-Egyptian Magical Formularies: Libraries, Books, and Individual Recipes, Ann Arbor, 232–285.

Harrauer, Christine (2006), "Abraxas", in: H. Cancik / H. Schneider (eds.), Brill's New Pauly, New Pauly Online. URL: https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/browse/brill-s-new-pauly

Janowitz, Naomi (2002), Icons of Power: Ritual Practices in Late Antiquity, University Park.

Johnston, Sarah I. (2000), "Le sacrifice dans les papyrus magiques", in: Alain Moreau / Jean-Claude Turpin (eds.), La Magie. Actes du colloque international de Montpellier, 25–27 mars 1999, vol. II, Montpellier, 19–36, republished and translated as (2002) "Sacrifice in the Greek Magical Papyri", in: Marvin Meyer / Paul Mirecki (eds.), Magic and Ritual in the Ancient World, Leiden / Boston / Köln, 344–358.

Leemans, Conrad (1885), Papyri Graeci: Musei Antiquarii Publici Lugduni Bagdavi, Vol. 2, Leiden, 77–198, no. W. Merkelbach, Reinhold (1992), Abrasax: ausgewählte Papyri religiösen und magischen Inhalts, Vol. 3: Zwei

griechisch-ägyptische Weihezeremonien: die Leidener Weltschöpfung, die Pschai-Aion-Liturgie, Opladen. Michel, Simone (2001), Die Magischen Gemmen im Britischen Museum, London.

Michel, Simone (2004), Die Magischen Gemmen. Zu Bildern und Zauberformeln auf geschnittenen Steinen der Antike und Neuzeit, Berlin.

Pachoumi, Eleni (2010), "An Invocation of Chrestos in Magic: The Question of the Orthographical Spelling of Chrestos and Interpretation Issues in PGM XIII.288–95", in: Hermathena 188, 29–54.

Quaegebeur, Jan (1975), Le Dieu égyptien Shaï dans la religion et l'onomastique, Louvain.


Zago, Michela (2013), "Le nom physique du dieu", in: Michel Tardieu / Anna Van den Kerchove / Michela Zago (eds.), Noms barbares, vol. I: Formes et contextes d'une pratique magique, Turnhout, 205–223.

Zografou, Athanassia (2013), Papyrus Magiques Grecs: le mot et le rite. Autour des rites sacrificiels, Ioannina.

# Martin Leuenberger Yahweh's Divine "Names". Changing Configurations in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel

Abstract: Within the larger horizon of plotting and mapping ancient polytheism, different divine "names", i.e. titles, attributes and designations of Yahweh reveal changing divine configurations. The multifarious and rich names attached to Yahweh precisely reflect the tension between the poles of polytheism and monotheism: Thus, rather than the nominal terms themselves what is much more important are the contents, functions and conceptions/notions/configurations they imply.

Building on the methodological framework of a religious-historical matrix that differentiates between Yahweh designations with regard to time (epochs: moyenne durée), space (personal-local/regional-national-global) and bearer-groups (their religious agency, also connected to literary genres and pragmatic functions), selected examples provide insights into the religious and theological-historical processes at work: We can observe different paradigms that relate Yahweh to other goddesses/ gods and especially to divine names/designations, such as identification, demarcation or integration/absorption. These examples also demonstrate how the HB's "pantheon" is much more complex, multi-layered and fluid than might be expected at first glance. In a broad sense, they allow for perspectives of a comparatisme différentiel: A historical theology of the divine names of Yahweh in the cultural-historical context of the Levantine.

# 1 Introduction

Within the larger horizon of plotting and mapping ancient polytheism, it is of interest to examine the divine conceptions of the Biblical god Yahweh in detail: in this context, the task will be carried out not so much with regard to the immense history of impact and reception, but more so with regard to important formations and transformations in Yahweh's configurations during the 1st millennium BCE.

Four introductory remarks help to place the following explorations within the overall project and clarify the approach taken herein:

#### 1.1 Space, Time and Human Agency

In terms of space, time and human agency, investigating Yahwistic conceptions means focussing on a peripheral area of the Ancient Near East. The Levantine culture in general and that of the Palestinian regions of (the small kingdoms of) Israel and Judah in particular constantly existed between the imperial poles of Egypt and Mesopotamia or Anatolia. The whole cultural history, therefore, is characterised by manifold (critical and original) combinations and amalgamations as well as demarcations of local traditions respecting Egyptian, Anatolian and Mesopotamian (esp. West-Semitic, Syrian or Aramean) influences. This reality of cross-cultural translatability also applies to the divine configurations of Yahweh – and that to all phases: From Yahweh's hypothetical origins in the Late Bronze Age to late and ripe forms in the early Hellenistic period of the 3rd century BCE according to the canonical shape of the Hebrew Bible (hereinafter: HB), quite different types of "theo-logical" receptions can be observed and reconstructed on the basis of divine names.1 In order to appreciate the specific concern of each case, it is crucial to take into account, in general, the respective transmitting societies or, in particular, specific bearer-groups – the human agents. <sup>2</sup> Through the centuries, but also in different regions simultaneously or even in the same place at a given time – in our case notably in Jerusalem –, all the different carrier-groups pursued their own interests with the help of the divine configurations they created, promoted or defended vis-à-vis concurring views. However, in developing this perspective we are quickly faced with the limitations of our Biblical texts which, as traditional literature (Traditionsliteratur), do not usually allow for precise depictions of these bearer-groups; but at least in specific (post-exilic) cases, such as the Priestly texts, we can responsibly trace important aspects of their human agency as innovative theologians (see below II.g[1]).

#### 1.2 Divine "Names"

In the context of the MAP project, it is appropriate to define the term "names" in a broad sense: Of course, it means the proper name "Yahweh" (transcribed as "Yahweh" or translated as "the Lord") and the generic name "Elohim" ("god" or "godhead"); but in my use it also includes titles, attributes, epithets, formulas and designations referring to Yahweh in the HB or the archaeological evidence of Old Hebrew inscriptions. This wide range of names for Yahweh (hereinafter normally rendered without single quote marks) is crucial to our issue, since it is precisely these names that reveal the changing divine configurations in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel that we are interested in.

See the section "Mobility, transmission, translation", 705–824.

Cf. recent introductions in terms of methodology Rüpke 2021, 18–22 and in terms of ancient Israel esp. Lewis 2020, 3–7 (king, priests, prophets, private religion, sages), where one should add the circles responsible for law and narrative-traditions, at least.

#### 1.3 Polytheism and Monotheism

Although this chapter focusses on the Biblical god Yahweh by definition, it is not restricted to the universal monotheism to which the Hebrew Bible evolved in its Endgestalten or final/canonical shapes. Rather, in a religious- and theological-historical approach, the multifarious and rich names which were used for, assigned to and transferred onto Yahweh in distinct historical contexts precisely reflect the tensions between the two theoretical poles of polytheism and monotheism: Thus, much more important than the nominal names and terms themselves are the semantic contents, pragmatic functions and constellative configurations that they imply in their specific contextual usage: Only this allows for an appropriate description, explanation and understanding of each concrete "bricolage" of Yahweh's names.

#### 1.4 The Methodological Framework of a Religious-Historical Matrix

The present article, therefore, is based on the methodological framework of a religious-historical matrix, as outlined briefly above.<sup>3</sup> It differentiates between Yahweh's names and designations with regard to time (especially in the sense of the moyenne durée of formative cultural periods), space (notably regarding the different personal, local or regional, national and global layers) and bearer-groups (with a focus on their religious agency, which is connected to [literary] genres and pragmatic functions of texts and images). Building on this model, the examples selected provide insights into the religious- and theological-historical processes at work: The following case studies exemplarily illustrate different paradigms of relating Yahweh – via his "names" – to other gods and goddesses, such as identifications, demarcations or a wide range of combinations and amalgamations; notably, the latter middle category includes many sub-variants from integrations or absorptions over developments or transformations involving shifts, additions or expansions as well as concentrations. The following selection is guided by these categories and intends to illustrate them with a set of historically instructive examples from the HB and Ancient Israel.

### 2 Case Studies

#### 2.1 The Etymology of Yahweh

It makes sense, therefore, to open the case studies on the divine configurations of Yahweh's "names" with a brief remark on the etymology of the proper name הָוה ְ :(yhwh (י

Cf. in more detail Leuenberger 2023, ch. 2 (lit.).

"Yahweh." In the HB, the tetragrammaton constitutes the dominant divine name attested more than 6800 times. As is well known, in Ex 3:14 god himself derives his name "yhwh" from hyh: "to be/become." However, in historical terms, despite an ongoing discussion, it is much more convincing to refer, along with J. Wellhausen, E.A. Knauf and many others, to the Old South Arab root hwh: "to blow/ride (through the air)/fall (down/ in from the clouds)." <sup>4</sup> First, this corresponds to the names of analogous weather-gods5 and, secondly, it connects well with Yahweh's earliest profile as a solitary storm-god, a sub-type of weather-god, from the southern Araba-region. He does not manifest himself permanently, but rather in specific instances by means of theophanies that are earthshaking yet helpful for his venerators. With respect to these religious agents, a link to mobile Shasu-Hapiru-people not integrated in institutionalised social orders still seems plausible to me:6 For such circles, it makes sense to venerate and praise a self–contained god who functionally and typologically covers all of the most important areas of their life and to that extent functions as an autonomous god.

Although many details elude us and we can only sketch out broad contours for these early constellations, the interrelatedness between the earliest Yahweh (with his semantically meaningful name), his profile including all competences etc., and the religious agents within their sociological conditions seems evident.

#### 2.2 Yahweh's Inculturation

The same applies for Yahweh's subsequent "importation" into the Central Palestine hill country and his inculturation in "the land". Transferring him into increasingly stratified and structured Israelite/Judean societies and their evolving states as chiefdoms and monarchies also affects his divine names and puts him into a correspondingly complex divine sphere.

For this latter dimension, Deut 32:8–9✶ (see 4QDeutj ) provides one of the few instructive glimpses in the HB,7 specifying that the "Most High ( ויֹן לְ עֶ "( divided the nations

Cf. e.g. Römer 2015, 32–34; Frevel 2021, 5; Leuenberger 2011, 29–30; differently e.g. Lewis 2020, 210–227. – And, on the whole subject, Leuenberger 2017 (lit.) and most recently the renewed debate in Fleming 2021, Flynn 2020; Lewis 2020; Pfitzmann 2020; Miller 2021.

The closest relative is probably the Edomite god Qos, but it would also be advisable to depict more precise correspondences and differences, at least regarding the Moabite Kemosh (s. Kühn 2008, ch. 1), the Ammonite Milkom or El (for the latter now emphatically Schmitt 2020, 166–174) as well as the Syrian Hadad and Ba˓ al (as a distinct god [e.g. in Ugarit] and as the functional title "Lord" [e.g. in the HB]).

Cf. albeit briefly Na'aman 2016; Leuenberger 2017; Leuenberger 2020.

The famous passage and its literary age have been much discussed but, in my view, it is at least religious‑ and tradition–historically relevant for the above mentioned process (see only Weippert 1997 and Smith 2008, 139–143, 195–212 on the one hand, Schmid 2006; Heiser 2006 and Otto 2009 on the

"according to the number of gods ( םיהלאינברפסמל x)," <sup>8</sup> resulting in Jacob as a portion and inheritance of Yahweh. Even if this was (only) a polytheistic language game (of elitist monotheistic Deuteronomists in a learned postexilic environment), it operates with the given instances of a supreme god,9 a divine pantheon, and Yahweh, who is related to this established class of divine beings – and in the larger context of Deuteronomy identified with ויֹן לְ עֶ himself.

#### 2.3 Yahweh's Identification with El

Evidently much more broadly attested, Yahweh's identification with El, the traditional Canaanite chief of gods often having a wife at his side (so e.g. the Ugaritic Ilu with ʿAṯiraṯ) also occurs within this same large inculturation-constellation.<sup>10</sup> The (nonpriestly) patriarchal narratives in Genesis offer vast evidence for this process, where, naturally in retrospect, several local El-deities are also equalised with Yahweh.<sup>11</sup> In an Israelite context, it is obvious that the original, name-giving tutelary god of the collective Isra-el was El, "fighting ( שׂהר "( for them, and consequently, Gen 33:20 specifies this El-figure as "El, the god of Israel:" אלֵ ָשְ ׂר ִ ייֵ לֹה ֱ אל אֵ ; this fits perfectly with the religioushistorical context of Palestine/Canaan in the Early Iron Age. Therefore, Israel and Yahweh must each have had separate origins and independent early histories. Nevertheless, in all available texts dealing substantially with Israel and its divine relations – and that implies: for the whole spectrum of their authors and/or transmitters –, it is Yahweh who functions as the relevant god of the collective or state: Yahweh is "the god of Israel" (see e.g. Ex 5:1; Josh 24:2, 23; Judg 4:6; 5:3, 5; Ps 68:9).

other hand). Parallel to this northern example, for a similar case in the south one can refer to early Davidic Jerusalem, where Yahweh notably meets the solar deities (see below 2.5).

Another term for the class of deities is םי לִ אֵ x( בְ יֵ ּנ ( in Ps 29:1; 89:7; Job 41:17.

Cf. on Elyon (˓ ly: "to go up") briefly Pfeiffer 2007, ch. 4. A clear religious-historical example is the divine pair ˓ l w˓ lywn in Sfire IA:11 (see KAI, #222); in the HB, the Yahweh-king-Psalms provide an early identification of Yahweh (see Ps 47:3), whereas the Malkisedeq–episode of Gen 14:18–20 (identifying ויֹן לְ עֶ in V.22 as Yahweh) most probably represents a late postexilic elaboration.

On El, see e.g. DDD 274–280 (Herrmann); Smith 2002, 32–43; Kottsieper 2013 (lit.); Schmitt 2020, 27–28 (lit.), criticising an identification with Yahweh. Explicitly is to refer to the El–inscription Hebrew Inscriptions KAjr 4.2, where, however, in l.4–5 El is not attested as the Holy One over the gods (see Blum 2013, 21–39).

E.g. "the seeing/everlasting god" Gen 16:13; 21:33, or the locally important לֵ ּא־תי ֵ בלאֵ :" god of Beth–El" Gen 35:7 (see לֵ בּא־תי ֵ / םי ִ לֹה ֱ בּאתי ֵ :" the house of god" 28:17, 19). See also the numinous men from Mamre in Gen 18, or for a personal type the "god of the fathers" Gen 31:5, 42, 53; 32:10; 49:24–25, etc.

#### 2.4 The Exodus-Tradition

This obviously unproblematic, conflict-free and generally accepted identification of Yahweh with El<sup>12</sup> must have happened quite early, i.e. in a still formative, but yet prestate phase when, during Iron Age I, the "Israel"-group (approximately as mentioned in the Merenptah-stele from 1208) in the Central Palestine hill country were successively evolving towards a tribal-people with a more distinct identity and internal structure, also regarding the religious agencies.

While this process remains largely conjectural for the southern region of the later Judean monarchy, it seems that for the northern territory of "Israel" the Exodustradition played a crucial role. In a Canaanite context characterised by the decline of the New Kingdom in Canaan during the 13/12th century, the deliverance out of (the land of) Egypt – perhaps experienced by a small Shasu-group – became foundational for the evolving collective "Israel" as the deliverance from (the political dominance of) Egypt in Canaan.<sup>13</sup> In the founding legend of the Israelite monarchy in 1Kin 12 (probably reworked at the time of Jeroboam II. and projected back at the beginning), king Jeroboam ֱ ךּול ָ ִהנֵ אהּ ֱ הֹל ֶ ךי formula presentation called-so the quotes .I Behold ": ֵמ ֶאֶר מץִ ְצָריִם ָ יִ ְ רׂשָ ֵא אל ֲ הרֶׁש ֶע your gods, Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt" (V.28).14 Although he aims to legitimise the state cults in Bethel and Dan (in contrast to Jerusalem) with cultic bull-images respectively bull-statues of Yahweh,15 the quoted Exodus-tradition is demarcated against Egypt and, therefore, reflects this emancipation (and only secondarily the narrated one from Jerusalem). This constellation presupposes, on the one hand, that the Exodus-tradition is already widely accepted within different parts of Israel, otherwise the argument would not work at all pragmatically; and on the other hand, we can grasp here, for the first time, an "official" function: the king and his priests take up an established tradition and transform it into a version legitimising the monarchic rule with a corresponding state cult.

Thereafter, this led to Israel's identity-building confession per se in the HB – notably within the dtr. circles and their strictly monolatrous programme, sharply contrasting Yahweh against the foreign gods. Interestingly, the Exodus-tradition is never

The name is later also attested on other levels by the personal names Eli-jah ( והּ ָּליִ אֵ ( and Jeho-el .( אֹוי ֵל also see , לאוהי )

Cf. Köckert 2010, 370; for a pre–state origin of the core tradition also e.g. Finkelstein 2017, 270–271.

In the Exodus context, the formula originally probably was singular (cf. e.g. Albertz 1992, 222–223; Römer 2017, 375–376; Berlejung 2009, 20), and perhaps represented the "official title of the cultic image of YHWH" (so Köckert 2010, 369).

The iconographic dimension constitutes its own, interesting area of Yahweh-veneration that cannot be discussed here due to the complex relations to the later ban on images (see hereto with lit. Bauks 2017; Pyschny 2021, §32–34). But it is at least worthy to note that we also find similar conditions in the south, although quite different Yahweh–images are discussed, such as the constellation of the lord of the animals/ostriches (see only Pyschny 2021, § 35–40 [lit.]), Yahweh enthroned on the cherubim or several potential depictions of Yahweh.

packed into a divine name or title in the proper sense, but usually appears as a formulaic relative clause proclaiming Yahweh's liberating agency (e.g. in the Decalogue preamble Ex 20:2/Deut 5:6). Then, the most condensed form is reached in Hos 12:10; 13:4, where this divine acting becomes quasi a divine self-definition in a nominal sentence: ,here Even" . )ֵמ ֶאֶר מץִ ְצָריִם ָ ָא כֹנ ִ יי ְ והָ אה ֱ הֹל ֶ ךי ) Egypt of land the from god your ,Yahweh am I" Yahweh is not defined by an abstract divine essence, but rather by means of his paradigmatic deliverance in (mythical) "history". This is a typical way of conceptualising god in the HB and it allows for productive receptions and transformations of this tradition in changing constellations during the 1st millennium BCE, such as the exilic crisis or postexilic conditions in the Persian province of Yehud: Here – in difference to its absence in sapiential circles that refer first and foremost to experience – notably, different Priestly, Prophetic, or dtr. groups use it for their specific purposes.

#### 2.5 Zion-Theology in Jerusalem

In contrast to such person- or people-related notions of god, covering the vast majority of divine conceptions in the HB, we can trace a different transformational process in Jerusalem from the early 1st millennium: In the wake of the historically highly probable usurpation of the city by the Davidides<sup>16</sup> who brought with them a mobile Yahweh (approximately with the same profile outlined above but now, amongst others, certainly also functioning as tutelary god of the dynasty), Yahweh became a place-related god ("Ortsgott"), concretely: God in Zion. Again, this development significantly concerns an official level of religion, i.e. the transition from the Jebusite pantheon to the city and state god Yahweh; in terms of the religious agents, it involved several priestly and prophetic figures most probably representing the old Jebusite elite, such as Zadoq and Nathan (see also Solomon as son of the Jerusalemite Bathsheba); they then became part of the developing Davidic court and, as religious agents, played an important role in preserving Jebusite divine traditions and introducing them into the new constellations dominated by Yahweh.

As for the newcomer Yahweh, the crucial divine transformation commenced with his arrival in Jerusalem,17 encountering the official Jebusite pantheon, especially the local weather-god, his paredra Ḫeba and the urban sun gods. In the long-term, this com-

Cf. on this debated issue Keel 2007, 169–175; Frevel 2018, 142–147, and recently Wazana 2017 (lit.) as well as Grossman 2019 (lit.).

From a religious–historical external perspective, this same process could also be described as Yahwisation of the sun resp. the solar deities (see Leuenberger 2011, 36–37); in the present context however, Yahweh's changing profile is of prime interest.

plex and multileveled entanglement transformed Yahweh massively, as we can trace, in this case unusually well, by combining archaeological sources with biblical texts.18

Yahweh's older profile proves to be directly compatible with the smiting weathergod, further developing his competences in fertility and vegetation in a small-town horizon. For Ḫeba, unfortunately, we lack any attestation in connection with Yahweh, although she is documented in Amarna-period Jerusalem and usually figures as the wife of the weather-god.<sup>19</sup> However, the most prominent position in the Jebusite pantheon is presumably taken by solar deities who are well attested and notably guarantee the cosmic time-structure and order of right and justice. They also most likely possess the sanctuary or temple with its east-west-direction, later "renovated" by Salomon. So, Yahweh has to come to terms with them and he does so, as the saying of the temple-dedication expresses in a compact form: פלֶ רָ ֲּעָ שְ : מֶּׁש ֶ דֹוהׁש ִ עי ַ שַּב יַמִָּׁ אם ָ ירַמ ְ והָ לה ִ בןֹּכׁ "the sun has declared at the sky that Yahweh has said (=chosen) to dwell in the darkness (of the thick cloud resp. the windowless temple)." <sup>20</sup> In sum, Yahweh takes the sun (deities) under his service, integrating the aforementioned competences into his own portfolio. Therefore, the solarisation of the weather-god Yahweh can be depicted as an integration of the sun (gods), by which process Yahweh significantly expands his profile as necessitated by the urban context of Jerusalem.21

In further consequence, Yahweh steadily reinforces his position, becoming the undisputed city and state god of the evolving and developing Judean monarchy: As divine king Yahweh Sabaoth, he dwells on/in the mountain/city/temple of god, his permanent presence securing the cosmos as well as the Jerusalemite/Judean life-world in a comprehensive way, notably in terms of right and justice, the royal dynasty, political protection and security as well as fertility and prosperity. This represents the universal world-view of the official Judean state religion until the fall of Jerusalem in

For what follows, see in more detail Leuenberger 2024, ch. 3–4 (lit.), esp. for the solarisation Leuenberger 2011, 34–71 (lit.). The epigraphic evidence should at least be mentioned, in this case notably the complicated and much debated inscription from Ḫirbet Bet Layy in South-Western (peripheral) Judah, attesting in ca. 700 BCE Yahweh not only as universal "god of the whole earth (˒ lhy kl h˒ rṣ)," but also as the city "god of Jerusalem (˒ lhy yršlm)!".

In the present context, this constellation is important, since – together with the one of El/Ilu and his wife (see above 2.3) – it may have given cause to the divine couple of "Yahweh and his Asherah" as solidly evidenced for private, regional and arguably also official religions in the Judah of the 8/7th century (cf. Leuenberger 2021 [lit.]; Berlejung 2019, 128–129; Zenger 2003, 21; Albertz 2003, 363–364, 369–370, and on Asherah in general DDD 99–105 [Wyatt]; Smith 2002, 108–137): In this period we can observe an expansion of Yahweh's competences (Kompetenzausweitung Jhwhs), who appropriates Asherah's former "blessing"-tasks concerning fertility, prosperity and well-being, so that in the end, Asherah is no longer mentioned. In this sense, therefore, we have a case of absorbing the "goddess" and her capacities, even though this does not happen on the level of divine "names" itself.

1Ki 8:12MT✶ /8:53LXX✶ (in its Hebrew Vorlage), cf. hereto Römer 2015, 97–103; Richelle 2018 (lit.).

A late explication represents Mal 3:20, designating Yahweh himself as the "the sun of righteousness ."( ֶ מׁש ֶ צׁש ְ ָד ָקה)

597/587 BCE,<sup>22</sup> evidenced in a considerable spectrum of preexilic literature preserved in the HB.

#### 2.6 Yahweh's Demarcation from Baʿal

Going back north again, still during the monarchical period, another type of configuration becomes prominent: Contrary to the identification of Yahweh with El, and also differing from the integrative processes delineated above, here, we can observe a sharp and contentious demarcation of Yahweh from Baʿal. The latter ranks as the dominant Syro-Palestine god from the Late Bronze Age and as a complex weather-god of the (northern) Hadad-type, he acts "as kingmaker and protector, benefactor and donator of offspring" as well as securing "the pattern of the seasons, and the regular return of fertility." <sup>23</sup> As we have seen, Yahweh originally featured a narrower but, especially regarding protection and benefaction, quite similar storm-/weather-god profile, obviously primarily facilitating his inculturation in Canaan considerably and thereupon, secondly, certainly promoting the expansion of his capacities.

But then, this increasing functional equivalence of the two gods<sup>24</sup> turned them into sharp rivals. This is indicated, on the one hand, by the fact that לַ בַּע:" owner/lord (-husband)" in contrast to ודֹן אָ :" master/lord" is never used as a title for Yahweh. On the other hand, the famous Elijah-narrative culminates in the divine judgement against Baʿal on mount Carmel (1Ki 18), proving Yahweh's supremacy. However, this dramatic account was probably massively (re-)shaped in exilic times, making it difficult to trace the early stages before the 9th century.<sup>25</sup> The beginnings of the Hosea-

Apart from Jerusalem, there were of course several local and regional venerations of Yahweh (in analogy to local El-deities, see above 2.3 with no. 11, esp. in pre-Josianic times, see e.g. Yahweh in/of Shiloh, Hebron, Samaria, Teman, etc. These intricate problems, perhaps partially also connected to distinct divine names (such as Yahweh Sabaoth), can only be mentioned here. And the same applies to the postexilic concurrence between Jerusalem/Yehud and Garizim/Samaria, each with their own Yahweh-conceptions, as recent research has rightly learned to recognise (cf. recently e.g. Hensel 2019 [lit.]).

DDD 134.138 (Herrmann). Cf. further a. Smith 2002, 43–47.5–14; Grätz 2006; Schmitt 2021, 35–36.

In this regard, the coexistence of Yahweh – and Ba˓ al – names in the environment of Saul and David according to the HB is perhaps also of interest, supposing that familial and dynastic levels are intermingled in these cases. Then, one can also consider a new function as kingmaker for Yahweh, as mentioned above for Baʽal. A similar situation seems to be documented archaeologically by the theophoric personal names on the Samaria-ostraca from the 8th century (see succinctly Grätz 2006, ch. 3.2 and comprehensively Albertz [below no. 29]). In my view, Weippert 1997, 17, takes matters a step too far by identifying both gods. However, this is problematic at least in a double sense: first, Yahweh's original profile is not only more restricted, but also manifests southern as well as genuine aspects (see above 2.1). Secondly, an identification makes it nearly impossible to explain the later segregation, so prominent in the HB.

Cf. hereto recent commentaries and esp. Köckert 2003; Albertz 2006, 25–28, 115–139.

tradition seem to be more reliable, since its core–constellations throughout ch. 5–11✶ are characterised by the critique of a "Baʿalised" Yahweh-veneration; it may even be possible to place Hos 2:18b in this context, where Yahweh presents himself to his (Israelite) wife as her "husband ( ׁי ִ שי אִ "( and no longer as her "lord (ליִ ְ בּעַ x)." 26

In sum, perhaps already from the 9th (possibly due to increasing Phoenician influences on the Omrides), but more reliably from the 8th century onwards, there are indications of a northern "Yahweh and not Baʿal-movement". <sup>27</sup> This, then, is "an internal religious delineation that is interpreted as delimitation to the outside," as M. Weippert has formulated it instructively.28 In the present context, first, this case represents a segregation-model of relating divine names that sharpens the divine boundaries and harshly demarcates Yahweh against other concurring gods, such as Baʿal in this instance. And second, for the first time, it attests a state-critical conception that evolved and survived until exilic times only as oppositional tradition and literature;29 in consequence, the corresponding carrier-groups and religious agents stand a priori vis-à-vis to the monarchical state, court or temple-cult and lack any official function or legitimacy.30

#### ) ֱא הֹל ִ םי God 2.7 ˒ ĕlōhîm)

The configurations of Yahweh's names examined so far provide important case studies, revealing broad contours as well as specific constellations. Notably, the interdependency between divine names, corresponding competences and religious agents (the latter usually remaining rather general so far) becomes more distinct in the following prime examples from the postexilic period: Namely the distinct use and trans-

Cf. for a discussion of this passage besides the commentaries Kato 2019, 49–51 and additionally the brief overview on the state of literary-historical research in Hos Wöhrle 2006, 54–58.

So Keel 1994, 89 on developing and precising Lang 2003, whose Yahweh-alone-movement probably takes thing too far, too early. See, with similar reasoning, e.g. Niehr 1995, 56; Janowski 2016, 26; Albertz 1992, 231–244, summing it up with the "Parole: Jahwe oder Baal" (241), caused by a "Vernachlässigung der Verehrung JHWHs zugunsten des Gottes Baal" (Albertz 2006, 27).

Weippert 1997, 22 (my translation of the German original in italics: "eine religionsinterne Grenzziehung, die als Abgrenzung nach außen interpretiert wird").

Due to restrictions of space, I can only refer here to the broad field of personal and family religion, which is also relevant for Yahweh. As indicated for Asherah (see above no. 19), there are a lot of overlappings with local/regional and official notions, but also distinct functions and competences which are distinguishing for individual and familial experiences. To tackle this vast spectrum of additional Yahweh-capacities, it would be important to analyse Yahwistic personal names (broadly attested in archaeological sources) and compare them with theophoric personal names connected to other deities, as esp. R. Albertz has recently shown comprehensively (cf. Albertz/Schmitt 2012, 245–386 [lit.] with appendixes).

Also in Judah, analogous state-critical constellations occur, yet perhaps a bit later: Notably in the shape of Isaiah's prophecy of doom transforming the venerable Zion-tradition in Jerusalem, as well as in rural Juda in the message of Micah from Moresheth.

formation of the divine name "Elohim" in specific literary strata and corpuses of the HB in the historical-theological context of the Persian period, which also – thanks to the more extensive literary extents – allows for more precise analyses and evaluations. This will first be discussed for the Priestly narrative in the Pentateuch in some detail, and then briefly for the poetic composition of the Elohistic Psalter as well as for the sapiential context in the dialogues of Job, and finally for the late wisdom-book of Qohelet.

By way of introduction, we can state that םי ִ לֹה אֱ) ˒ ĕlōhîm): "god" ranks as the second divine name in the HB with nearly 2600 attestations. Morphologically, it is a pluralform,31 literally designating "gods" as a nomen appellativum; in this sense, the HB uses it as a term for different deities or categories/classes of divine beings (see e.g. Ps 82:1 and above 2.b; or Gen 6:2; Job 1:6; or Ex 20:3; Deut 5:7; or Ex 12:12; Jos 24:15; 2Chron 25:20; or Ps 18:11; 86:8). But, in the HB, the vast majority of this same (plural-)form refers to the Biblical god Yahweh, therefore taking on a singular meaning: It can be understood more precisely, and depending on the context, as a plural of abstraction, intensity, majesty, sovereignty or the like.32

Regarding the configurations and meanings of divine names, it is instructive to analyse these different usages of םי ִ לֹה אֱ) Elohim). The usual background presupposes that Yahweh and (the, or specific) other gods (Elohim) are different divine beings that can or need to be related to each other; this is the religious-historical standardparadigm of the preexilic state-period. Against this background, the transformation of the Elohim-usage since exilic times becomes significant.

2.7.1 Starting with P – the Priestly strata in the Pentateuch, opening the HB with Gen 1 and widely acknowledged in research for a century and a half33 – leads us directly to the most prominent case: Here, םי ִ לֹה אֱ is not only employed in the common sense of a generic term or appellative noun, but programmatically also in the sense of a proper noun or name, transforming the whole concept of god by transferring "god" to "God" in these instances.

Sc. of ַּ ולֹה אֱ, with only about 60 references, most prominently in Job (see below 2.g.[3]); for םי ִ לֹה אֱ see succinctly Davies 2006, 177–178 counting over 100 cases of "a genuine plural, meaning 'gods'" (177). Cf. Burnett 2002, 19–24, opting himself decidedly for a "concretized abstract plural" (23f), being a "Canaanite linguistic development" and denoting "an individual person . . . representing a certain status expressed as an abstraction" (23).

Cf. most recently in lieu of many Wöhrle 2021; Hartenstein/Schmid 2015 (lit.). Of little importance here are the controversial disputes about the precise end of P and the traditional and/or redactional character of P in the primeval history, the ancestral stories and the exodus-sanctuary–narrative.

At least, this is the (convincing, to me) result of a recent discussion.34 It is based on the observation that P introduces god in Gen 1:1(ff) as םי ִ לֹה אֱ, i.e. without the article and רֵּ שא ִ בתיׁ ָרָּ אא ֱ הֹל ִ אםיֵת ְב of translation correct grammatically The .function determining its רץֶאָ ָ הת אֵ ְ ום ִיַ שָּׁמהַ , therefore, would be: "In the beginning a god created the heaven(s) and the earth," which obviously does not make sense in the context of the Priestly creation narrative, presenting this םי ִ לֹה אֱ – who appears 33 times as acting subject in Gen 1:1–2:4a – emphatically as the one and only "God," as is almost undisputedly accepted.35

What can be and is disputed, is whether םי ִ לֹהאֱ here becomes, in the strict sense, a proper noun (resp. at least is employed in the way of a proper noun [eigennamenartig]) or is used "only" in a titular sense.<sup>36</sup> As indicated, the first option seems more conclusive to me, since (generally following a Wittgensteinian approach) methodologically speaking, primacy appertains to the contextual usage against a rigid and inflexible system of language, grammar and semantics.

But however one prefers to settle this question in terms of morphology and grammar, on all accounts, the consequences of Gen 1 for understanding the concept of god are as eminent as they are far reaching and hence of special interest in the present context:

2.7.1.1 Contrary to the standard (Ancient Near Eastern and Judean) notion of pre-exilic times, reckoning with a plethora of gods and goddesses, each with their specific competences and areas or also territories of responsibility, for P, this universal class of deities comprises just one element: םי ִ לֹהאֱ, thus: "God." In this manner, one can summarise the literary programme that P develops in its work.

Having depicted the universal creation and order of the world by "God" in Gen 1, the primeval history describes the universal actions of םי ִ לֹהאֱ notably regarding the flood and the worldwide covenant with Noahide humanity for post-diluvian ages, repeating the divine blessing from Gen 1:28 in 9:1:

Cf. esp., each with additional literature, de Pury 2002; de Pury 2007, 124–125; Davies 2006, 181–182, 184; Schmid 2003, 28–38; Schmid 2011, 278–287 (see also 284, referring to more recent lexicons opting [also] for םי ִ לֹה אֱ as a proper noun); Blum 1984, 471–475; Blum 2008.

Cf. the commentaries and Bible translations. So also Blum 2008, 105, who importantly reminds us of the linguistic–historical development: The definite article in Old Hebrew is established only in the early 1st millennium and systematically employed only in prose (119; alike e.g. Schmid 2003, 34 no. 74; Schmid 2011, 285 no. 38).

In the recent debate, this understanding is vehemently advocated by Blum 2008, 106–119, admitting notably "ein 'absolut', d.h. ohne Artikel verwendetes םי ִ לֹה אֱ "in specific contexts; on these functions, see Porzia 2020, 223–225, 230–237.

Gen 1:28 And God blessed them [sc. man, V.27], and God said to them: "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth (. . .)."


Gen 9:1 And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said to them: "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth (. . .)."

This fundamental correspondence makes it unmistakably clear that it is one and the same divine subject who creates and acts in (pre- and postdiluvian) history (see also Gen 5:2; 9:7). With regard to the notion of god, for the Priestly authors the identity and sameness of this creator God throughout history is crucial, since it also allows them to recognise the traumatic experience of the Judean exile as divine action and to understand the contemporary Persian empire as creation-based world-order.

Within post-diluvian history, this divine identity is further elaborated by assigning specific divine names to different periods and gradually centring the history on Israel.37 In a first step, the Priestly ancestral narrative concentrates on Abraham and the Abrahamitic nations explaining that in this sphere, God reveals himself as El-Shadday:

Gen 17:1 And Yahweh appeared to Abram and said to him: "I am El-Shadday (. . .)." ֵרָּ יא ְ והָ אה ֶ א־ל ַ ְבָר וםַ מאֹּי ֶ אר ֵ ָל אוי ֲנִ א־י ֵ של ַ דַׁיּ (. . .) וַי

On a meta-level, the introduction informs the reader that the divine subject revealing itself is no other than Yahweh himself; but on the level of the narrated world, Abram only learns about the divine self-presentation as El-Shadday. This "name" remains quite opaque in religious-historical perspective, perhaps originating as a deity of the mountains or the fields.<sup>38</sup> P however, uses it coherently as God's (self-)designation during patriarchal times (see Gen 17:1; 28:3; 35:11; 43:14; 48:3; Ex 6:3), possibly accentuating the "ecumenic" dimension that characterises God's actions in this epoch, notably by establishing and "giving" an unconditioned covenant to the Abrahamites (Gen 17).

The final big step then occurs with Moses' call in Ex 6:

Ex 6:2 And God spoke to Moses and said to him: "I am Yahweh. 3 And I appeared unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob as El Shadday, but my name (is) "Yahweh", (as such) I did not make (myself) known to them."

שּו ְ מִׁ יי ְ והָ אֹלה דֹונ ַ ְע ליִּת ָ ֶהם ָו ֵאָר אא ֶ א־לַ ְבָר ָה אם ֶ י־לִ ְצ ָחק 3 ְ ֶא י־ל ֲַע בבֹק ְאּ ֵ של ַ דׁ ָיּ ו ַ מאֹּי ֶר ֲאנִ יי ְ והָ ו ה ֵא ָל וי ְ ַד ֵ ארּב ֱ הֹל ִ אםי ֶ שֹמ־ל ֶ הׁ 2 וַי

Cf. Ex 1:7 realising the blessing of fertility from 1:28; 9:1, 7 for Israel; see also 17:2, 20 הבר :" to multiply" + בּמִ אֹד ְ אֹמד ְ :" exceedingly" only here and Ex 1:7.

Cf. hereto esp. DDD 749–753 (Knauf); Leuenberger 2008, 280–281 (lit.); Good 2007 (himself opting for a connection to שַׁד :" breast" and a nourishing divine function); and recently Achenbach 2015, 35–37.

Again, the structure exhibits the same three constituents as above in Gen 1 and 9, using similar terminology: (1) God's word ( רבד ( to a specific addressee, (2) an introduction of the direct speech with, (3) רמא the divine speech proper, comprising the blessing of fertility in Gen 1 and 9 on the one hand and God's self-revelation regarding his "names" in Ex 6 on the other hand. Thus, in Ex 6, P reaches its theo-logical climax: Elohim himself relates his divine names El Shadday and Yahweh explicitly to each other.

What results is a three-staged concept of god: The universal creator god Elohim, in charge of humanity in Primeval history, manifests himself first as the Abrahamitic god of the fathers El Shadday, and finally, for post–Mosaic Israel among the nations, he reveals himself using his proper name Yahweh. As such, he is known only to Israel, dwelling in the sanctuary resp. the tabernacle of the meeting tent (see example 25:8–9; 39–40✶ ) and venerated in the form of an elaborated sacrificial cult administrated by Moses and (the) Aaron(ides) (Lev 9:22–23).<sup>39</sup> Thus, according to P, only this cultic institution accomplishes the fulfilment and completion of the order of creation, establishing a stable world-order for all future times.

2.7.1.2 This literary and theological programme is telling with regard to the Priestly authors as religious agents: Obviously, the deported priestly functionaries of the state temple struggled with the traumatic experience of the Babylonian exile,<sup>40</sup> terminating the (Israelite and) Judean monarchy – and also defeating the national god Yahweh.

Thus, what was at stake for them was the divine status of Yahweh himself and therewith the world-order altogether. For common Ancient Near Eastern (and also Israelite/Judahite) savants, it was evident that political doom was rooted in religious defeat and demonstrated the powerlessness of the relevant deity or deities: They were no longer venerated by their (neglected) former adherers and, as a consequence, were abandoned and disremembered. It is hard, therefore, to overestimate the comprehensiveness and massive extent of the exilic crisis.

This backdrop sharpens the innovative force and achievement of P's theological concept, as evidenced by the literary composition outlined above. Yahweh is not forgotten but, quite the opposite, transformed into the one and only god creating the universe according to his word and directing the course of history. For this process, two factors play an eminent role: On the one hand, the Priestly theologians were able to follow up older pre-exilic traditions of prophecy of doom, proclaiming Yahweh's divine wrath against and punishment of his own people;<sup>41</sup> as a result of this complex and multilayered process, they are finally able to recognise the exilic catastrophe as Yahweh's

The end of the Priestly Grundschrift is still much debated (see above, no. 33), but usually contains at least Ex 39–40✶ , often also Lev 9✶ (see my brief overview, Leuenberger 2008, 377–378 [lit.] and 405–409 for the literary correspondences of these texts with the beginning in Gen 1; more recently, see the literature above in no. 33).

Cf. the brand-new overview by Markl 2020, 7–15 (lit.); Markl 2021, 177–179, 182–183.

Similar concepts are also known in Mesopotamia or Moab, as attested by the Mesha-stele from the 9th century (see Kratz 2008, 93–121; Jeremias 2009, 46–77, 77–120; Berges 2004, 313–318). In the HB, a par-

action in history. On the other hand, the contemporary encounter of the Priestly exiles with the Babylonian culture, especially with the prominent Marduk theology, presenting this main god as creator and lord of history,42 necessitates a profound response. In opposition to Marduk legitimising the sovereignty of the victorious Babylonian empire, P argues for Yahweh, the god of the Judean losers stemming from a peripheral region, to be recognised as the true lord of creation and history, on whose behalf the Priestly agents operate in the Babylonian exile and later in Jerusalem from the early second temple period under Persian dominion and in its ecumenic horizon onwards.

As a result, the Priestly agents emerge as innovative theologians, reacting to the comprehensive crisis provoked by the exile with a fundamentally new concept of god: Instead of abandoning Yahweh, they advance towards the monotheistic conviction that Yahweh is the one and only god of creation and history – or just simply: God. Regarding the history of theology, this implicit monotheism outlined above unifies, most probably for the first time, the large tradition blocks of the god of creation, the ancestors and the exodus.43 Together with the exclusive variant of monotheism developed more or less contemporarily by "Second Isaiah," <sup>44</sup> we can capture two of the most eminent theological concepts founding exilic and postexilic Judean identity.

In sum: In the Priestly work, we observe learned theologian circles at work. They certainly originate in official late-monarchical elites at the temple (as indicated by the cultic perspective of P); but when facing the exilic crisis and struggling to overcome it, they profoundly transform the divine configuration – condensed, as we have seen, in their innovative usage of the "name" םי ִ לֹה אֱ, the concept which now prominently opens the canonical HB.

2.7.2 A less prominently placed, but still comparable, transformation of the usage of divine names45 is driven by the so–called Elohistic Psalter in Ps 42–83, covering most of books II-III of the Psalter. In marked difference to other areas of the Psalter, here,

allel concept is developed by dtr. circles in exilic and postexilic times, arguing, in contrast to P, with the criteria of exclusive (monolatrous) Yahweh-veneration resp. turning/falling away from Yahweh.

Cf. esp. Albani 2000, 47–73, 78–90, 138–141.

Cf. in particular de Pury 2002, 30–31.

In contrast to P, Second Isaiah rearranges Yahweh and Elohim in such a manner that the other gods (still named as םי ִ לֹה אֱ (are disqualified as "nothing (פסֶ אֶ) "( see 41:29; 45:14 etc.) or the like, since they are not capable of doing anything, while Yahweh is explicitly proclaimed as the only true god, because בַּל מִ לֹה ֱ אןי ֵ אי דַ עָ ְ םי ִ :" besides me, there is no god" (see e.g. 44:6; 45:5f; a comparable dynamic is visible in the rarer usages of אלֵ , see 41:10–12; 45:21–22; 46:9); in consequence, Yahweh is related to Israel as "your/our god ( וניּ ֵ לֹה אֱ/ ךי ֶ לֹה אֱ) "(e.g. 40:3; 43:3; 52:10), and in this sense, he can also be designated in 45:18 once, using the determinative article classically, as םי ִ לֹה אֱהָ :" the god" per se (cf. hereto Leuenberger 2010; Albani 2003 [lit.]). A quite similar concept is attested (on a smaller textual scale) in the ;(se per (god the is Yahweh ": ְ ֹוּדַב ִ אםי ֵ מדֹועןיִל ְ והָ האּוהה ָ ֱא הֹל ִ ייּכ .35V in culminating 4, Deut chapter late there is no other besides him" (see also V.39 or the likewise late statement in Deut 32:39).

Primarily, they comprise Yahweh, El and Elohim; but one has also to bear in mind titles such as "the Most High ( ויֹן לְ עֶ( ," "the master/lord (יָ דֹנ אֲ(," "the Holy One of Israel," or "the name of god."

Elohim is the preferred, but not exclusive, divine designation.<sup>46</sup> Rather than a dilettantish or inconsistent Elohistic redaction (as is often assumed since H. Ewald) and/or a very partial later revision reinserting the tetragrammaton,<sup>47</sup> this distribution in all probability represents an intentional redactional reworking (perhaps to be dated around 400 BCE). Obviously, it takes place under monotheistic conditions and focuses on the relationship of Israel and the nations. This "theological thinking" <sup>48</sup> first has to be reconstructed carefully in each instance, but then broader tendencies are revealed, notably god's universality, transcendency and indisposability.

The inclusion framing the Asaph Psalter is particularly significant: It presents Yahweh as "god of the gods (הָוה ְ יםי ִ לֹה ֱ אל אֵ( ," "summoning the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting" (50:1), and the one "from Zion ( צִ מִ יּוֹן ּ "( as the centre of the cosmos (V.2).<sup>49</sup> The (Asaphite) composition then reflects Yahweh's judgment<sup>50</sup> throughout history on Israel and the nations (including their gods51). One prominent line here is the Asaphite name-theology,<sup>52</sup> presenting Yahweh world-wide as god per se and aiming for a nation–wide acknowledgement of Yahweh's (great) name, dwelling in the temple (74:7) and proclaimed in Israel (see esp. 75:2; 76:2; 79:9; 48:11). As a consequence, the previously hostile nations "shall/will know that you – your name is Yahweh – alone ֵ ְד כּועִ א־יּ ַ שהָּת ִ מׁ ְך ) earth the all over High Most the are ְי , ֶע ְל עןֹויַ כ־ל ָ ה־לּ ָ ָאֶרץ)" 83:19( ָ יְ והָ לה ְ ַב ֶךּד ָ ו see V.17).<sup>53</sup> Thus, the dynamic of Yahweh and Elohim again exhibits "a gravitation toward monotheism by which the generic term becomes the proper name" <sup>54</sup> – or more precisely: also becomes another proper name for Israel's god.

245 of 365 attestations in the Psalter are concentrated here (see also the tables of Rösel 1999, 21–25); however, Yahweh also occurs 45 times (plus 4 times in the short form הּ ָ י(, e.g. in formulaic expressions, but also, from 42:9 (engl. 42:8) onwards, on its own (see Süßenbach 2005, 50–58; and on the whole issue Hossfeld/Zenger 2000; Hossfeld 2010, and recently Burnett 2017, esp. 65–66, 87).

See e.g. for the former Ben-Dov 2011, 86–94, and for the latter (combined with an older, consequent Elohistic redaction) Rösel 1999, 33–38.

Hossfeld/Zenger 2003, 50; cf. Hossfeld/Zenger 2000, 31. Their reservation regarding a "secondary redaction" (Psalter, 50) is, in my opinion, due to their too technical and too monolithic understanding of redaction. Indeed, one has to reckon with "a highly skilled editorial process" (see Joffe 2001, 163).

This Zion-theological centring takes up and continues the main-perspective of the first collection of Korahite Psalms (Ps 42–49).

In Ps 73–83, the tetragrammaton is attested in each Psalm with the exception of Ps 82 (cf. following note).

This is explicitly made clear in the penultimate Ps 82, where (Israel's) "god stands in the congregation of the gods, and in the midst of the gods ( םי ִ לֹה ֱ אב רֶ ֶ ּקְ בל ֵ א־ת דַ ֲּעַ בב ּ as himself proving ,).1V)" (ֱא הֹל ִ נםי ִ ָצ the only one judging justly.

Cf. hereto briefly Gärtner 2012, 123. See also, as a parallel concept, the broader attested dtr. name-theology with its own profile.

Cf. similar Burnett 2017: "YHWH's identity as Israel's God is clearly acknowledged within Pss 42–83 but nonetheless remains somewhat hidden by the use of the title םי ִ לֹה אֱ) "136 ;(this serves "as a basis for giving focus to הָ וה ְ י not only within Israel but also among the other nations" (138; see also 143).

Hossfeld/Zenger 2003, 51.

2.7.3 The same development can be observed in the poetic, dialogical part of the book of Job (Job 3:1–42,6): In this sapiential literature, stylised as "international" dialogue of (the non-Israelite) Job and his friends, the singular ּ ַ ולֹה אֱ:" god" is prominently used.55 This universalistic sapiential setting, together with the consequent lack of article in ַּ ולֹהאֱ, once more manifestly presupposes "bereits den Übergang der Gattungsbezeichnung 'Gott' zum Eigennamen". <sup>56</sup> Thus, here, we see another characteristic concept of a divine name, this time created by religious agents with a sapiential and international horizon.

2.7.4 Also in a late sapiential context (of the 3rd century BCE in Jerusalem), we find Qohelet's critical wisdom-theology, which intensely deals with the early Hellenistic culture and notably its theological concepts as developed in Stoic (popular) philosophy. Thus, a monotheistic and universal horizon is evident and almost undisputed in research.57

For Qohelet, the recourse to (individual, but intersubjectively verifiable) experience – anchored in a creation-based horizon – is fundamental (see e.g. 1:13, 17; 7:25) and brings forth an innovative concept of god: Given that Yahweh being Israel's god, attested by the Biblical salvation-historical, prophetic and psalmistic traditions and revelations remains elusive to Qohelet's experience, he abandons the tetragrammaton along with nearly all divine designations and speaks only of "(the) god": םי ִ לֹהאֱ)הָ ( and his creative action ( שעׂה :" to do;" ןתנ :" to give").58

To give just one example from the main section in 3:10–22: After stating that "he [sc. the ,).11V )" (ֶא ה־ת ַ עלֹּכ ָ ָ יהׂשָ ֶפ בה ְ ִע ֹוּת ) time its in beautiful everything made has] .10V ,God implications for creatural man "under the sun/heaven" (see from 1:3 onwards) are underlined: "(. . .) there is nothing better for them [sc. man as collective singular, V.11] than to rejoice and to do good in one's lifetime ( וי ּ ְ ַל ֲע בבֹוטתֹוׂשְחּ ַיָ "( ֵא בבֹוטןיָ כםִּ איִּ ל־םִ ְ חֹומׂש ַ ו (V.12). And V.13 adds that this means to eat, to drink and to see good, which is no less appropriate the )" ארי [ ָה]ֱא הֹלִ םי ) god of fear the "making" , )ַמ אתַּתֱ הֹל ִ םי ) god of gift a "than attitude on the part of man (V.14).59

41 times (absent in the prose frame of Job 1–2, 42). Aside, there are notably attestations of El (55 times), of Elohim (6 times) and of Shadday ( ,31 times, n.b. always without the El-element) as well ּיַ שַׁד as of Yahweh (apart from 12:9 only 5 times in 38:1–42:6; but dominating in the prose frame).

Schmidt 1984, 155. Due to space limitations, this transformation cannot be described in more detail, notably regarding the interaction of the different divine "names" (see note above).

Cf. e.g. Davies 2006, 190–191, 193, and the commentaries' relevant introductory parts.

There are no references for Yahweh, El or Eloah, etc. Elohim is attested 40 times, of which 8 references – more or less in the same sense – are without the definite article (1:13; 3:10, 13; 5:3, 8; 7:18; 8:2, 13). To be added are the expressions with a divine subject שעׂה x ✶ (9 times) and ןתנ x ✶ (12 times) as well as very few creation–theological motives. Cf. on the whole Krüger 2000, 13–14 and passim; Leuenberger 2014 (lit.).

Cf. hereto only Leuenberger 2011, 271–273 (lit.).

Thus, for this one and only creator god, experienced by man through eating, drinking, rejoicing and (thereby) fearing god, Elohim becomes exclusively the only valid designation and, as a consequence, again gains the value of a proper name.

This concept of god should be evaluated, in my opinion, more as a theological concentration than a form of surrender or capitulation. In any case, it secures the international connectivity of Qohelet's theology, which proves to be engaged in an intensive discourse with Hellenistic philosophical positions.

#### 2.8 Further Cases of Divine Configurations

Finally, it remains to note that there is a number of further interesting cases of divine configurations in the HB. Notably in the second temple period with its international Persian and then Hellenistic horizon, we can trace distinguished aspects of translatability and inter-cultural resp. ‑religious exchangeability. Interesting cases would be, ֵא הלַ מָּׁש ָיִם see; ֱא הֹל ֵ היַ יַמָּׁש ִם) heaven of god) the (as Yahweh of designation the ,example for Ps 136:26 and 15 times Aramaic ּאָיַ ׁמְ הּש לָ אֱ (in a wide range of texts and correspondingly manifold transmitting groups. Or, with a focus on Yehud, the renewed Zion-theology with its epithets for Yahweh in the growing Psalter and its religious agents tending towards a Yahweh-veneration beyond the Jerusalemite temple and cult could be depicted; this could be compared with the (complex) inscriptional evidence from Mount Garizim attesting another locally orientated notion of Yahweh which is of relevance for the broader reconstruction of Jerusalemite and Samarian/Samaritan Yahwisms evolving in later post-exilic times (see above no. 21). In these and other instances, additional divine concepts can be traced which took place, on the whole, in a more and more learned milieu of scriptural religion.

# 3 Conclusion

The selected examples presented above and analysed within the model of a religioushistorical matrix of Yahweh's "names" demonstrate the fact that, and to what extent, the HB's "pantheon" is much more complex, multi-layered and fluid than might be expected at first glance, exhibiting a broad range of identifications, amalgamations, demarcations of divine names and concepts.

Within the MAP-horizon, these examples allow, in a broad sense, for perspectives of a comparatisme différentiel (Jean-Pierre Vernant and the École de Paris): A historical theology of the divine names of Yahweh in the cultural-historical context of the Levantine in the 1st Millennium BCE.

Despite configurations of Yahweh's names differing or even contradicting each other with regard to content, all bearer- and transmitter-groups as human agents agree on one basal conviction: These various divine configurations attest to a deep plurality of Yahweh, the god of the Bible (in his history with Israel, all human-beings and the world) who, according to the Biblical authors, ultimately is and reveals himself as the one and only (true) "god" or, for that matter, just God.

### Bibliography


Albertz, Rainer (2006), Elia. Ein feuriger Kämpfer für Gott (BG 13), Leipzig.


Burnett, Joel S. (2017), "The Elohistic Psalter. History and Theology", in: W. Dennis Tucker / William H. Bellinger (eds.), The Psalter as Witness. Theology, Poetry, and Genre. Proceedings from the Baylor University-University of Bonn Symposium on the Psalter, Waco, 133–151.


Flynn, Shawn W. (2020), A Story of YHWH: Cultural Translation and Subversive Reception in Israelite History, Studies in the History of the Ancient Near East, New York.

Frevel, Christian (20182 ), Geschichte Israels (KStTh 2), Stuttgart.

Frevel, Christian (2021), "When and from Where did YHWH Emerge? Some Reflections on Early Yahwism in Israel and Judah", in: Entangled Religions 12, 2, 1–32, https://doi.org/10.46586/er.12.2021.8776.


Grossman, Jonathan (2019), "Did David Actually Conquer Jerusalem? The Blind, the Lame, and the Ṣinnôr", in: Vetus Testamentum 69, 46–59.


Hossfeld, Frank-L. / Zenger Erich, (2003), "The So-Called Elohistic Psalter: A New Solution for an Old Problem", in: Brent A. Strawn / Nancy R. Bowen (eds.), A God So Near. Essays on Old Testament Theology in Honor of P.D. Miller, Winona Lake, 35–51.


Kratz, Reinhard G. (2008), "Chemosh's Wrath and Yahweh's No. Ideas of Divine Wrath in Moab and Israel", in: Id. / Hermann Spieckermann (eds.), Divine Wrath and Divine Mercy in the World of Antiquity (FAT 2, 33), Tübingen, 92–121.

Krüger, Thomas (2000), Kohelet (Prediger) (BK 19 [Sonderband]), Neukirchen-Vluyn.

Kühn, Dagmar (2008), "Kemosch", in: WiBiLex. Das wissenschaftliche Bibellexikon im Internet. https://www. bibelwissenschaft.de/stichwort/23388/ (seen 19.6.2023).

Lang, Bernhard (2003), "Die Jahwe-allein-Bewegung. Neue Erwägungen über die Anfänge des biblischen Monotheismus", in: Manfred Oeming / Konrad Schmid (eds.), Der eine Gott und die Götter. Polytheismus und Monotheismus im antiken Israel (AThANT 82), Zürich, 97–110.

Leuenberger, Martin (2008), Segen und Segenstheologien im alten Israel. Untersuchungen zu ihren religionsund theologiegeschichtlichen Konstellationen und Transformationen (AThANT 90), Zürich.

Leuenberger, Martin (2010), "Ich bin Jhwh und keiner sonst" (Jes 45,5f). Der exklusive Monotheismus des Kyros-Orakels Jes 45,1–7 in seinem religions- und theologiegeschichtlichen Kontext (SBS 224), Stuttgart.

Leuenberger, Martin (2011), Gott in Bewegung. Religions- und theologiegeschichtliche Beiträge zu Gottesvorstellungen im alten Israel (FAT 76), Tübingen.

Leuenberger, Martin (2014), "'Gott ist im Himmel und du auf der Erde' (Qoh 5,1). Exegetische und theologische Überlegungen zur Gottesvorstellung (nicht nur) nach Qohelet", in: Biblische Zeitschrift 58, 211–238.

Leuenberger, Martin (2017), "Kenites", in: EBR 15, 111–112.

Leuenberger, Martin (2017), "YHWH's Provenance from the South. A New Evaluation of the Arguments pro and contra", in: Jürgen van Oorschot / Markus Witte (eds.), The Origins of Yahwism (BZAW 484), Berlin et al., 157–179.

Leuenberger, Martin (2020), "Midian, Midianites", in: EBR 18, 1212–1213.

Leuenberger, Martin (2021), "Yahweh and his Asherah in the three Pithoi Inscriptions from Kuntillet ˓ Ajrud. A Re-evaluation", in: Renate M. van Dijk-Coombes / Liani C. Swanepoel / Gideon R. Kotzé (eds.), From Stone Age to Stellenbosch. Studies on the Ancient Near East in Honour of Izak (Sakkie) Cornelius (ÄAT 107), Münster, 179–190.

Leuenberger, Martin (in preparation for 2024), Gott in Zion. Zionstheologien im alten Israel. Religions- und theologiegeschichtliche Untersuchungen mit Schwerpunkten auf den Zionspsalmen und dem Jesajabuch.

Lewis, Theodore J. (2020), The Origin and Character of God: Ancient Israelite Religion Through the Lens of Divinity, New York.

Markl, Dominik (2021), "Die politische Theologie des Monotheismus im Kontext des persischen Weltreichs", in: Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte 2, 175–186.

Markl, Dominik (2020), "The Babylonian Exile as the Birth Trauma of Monotheism", in: Biblica 101, 1–25. Miller, Patrick D. (2021), Yahweh: Origin of a Desert God (FRLANT 284), Göttingen.

Na'aman, Nadav (2016), "The 'Kenite Hypothesis' in the Light of the Excavations at Ḥorvat ʿUza", in: Gilda Bartoloni / Maria G. Biga (eds.), Not Only History. Proceedings of the Conference in Honor of Mario Liverani, Winona Lake, 171–182.

Niehr, Herbert (1995), "The Rise of YHWH in Judahite and Israelite Religion. Methodical and Religio-Historical Aspects", in: Diana V. Edelmann (ed.), The Triumph of Elohim. From Yahwisms to Judaisms (CBET 13), Den Haag, 45–72.

Otto, Eckart (2009), "Moses Abschiedslied in Deuteronomium 32. Ein Zeugnis der Kanonsbildung in der Hebräischen Bibel", in: Id., Die Tora. Studien zum Pentateuch. Gesammelte Schriften (BZAR 9), Wiesbaden, 641–678.

Pfeiffer, Hendrik (2007), "Gottesbezeichnungen/Gottesnamen (AT), 2007", in: WiBiLex. Das wissenschaftliche Bibellexikon im Internet. www.bibelwissenschaft.de/stichwort/19928/ (seen 19.6.2023).


# Jonathan Ben–Dov The Lord of Spirits in the Book of Parables of Enoch from a Levantine Point of View

Abstract: Among the various booklets contained in 1 Enoch, the Book of Parables (BP, chapters 37–71) stands out due to its far-reaching mythological descriptions and radical imagery. To complicate matters further, this is the only booklet not attested in Aramaic or Greek, but rather solely in Ethiopic (Geʿez). BP uses the divine title "Lord of Spirits" as the predominant divine appellation, while this title is not used in other Enochic compositions. The Lord of Spirits appears in the Hebrew Bible with minor variations between MT and the LXX, as well as in a handful of other Jewish sources. The present article examines the performative use of this title on Jewish tombstones from Rheneia (Delos) together with its typical iconography. The main line of argument is to demonstrate the Levantine setting of the epithet using sources from the MAP database. Given that other divine titles in the Enochic tradition are shared by the general non-Jewish environment of the time, I attempt to show that the same is true for the Lord of Spirits. An inscription from Palmyra (PAT 0065) that uses similar divine titles and iconography attests to the cultural continuity of the epithet across long periods of time in the wide geographic span of the Levant.

The present article will join together divine names from traditions that stand wide apart in the late first millennium BCE and the early centuries CE across a wide geographical scope.1 The disparity also involves a broad range of agencies by the various writers, as some of the evidence is preserved in the form of material artefacts with a particular ritual performance in mind while others are preserved only in scriptural form. I aim to connect these rather remote traditions, demonstrating the vitality and dynamic character of divine names as they migrate in the Hellenistic-Roman near East.2 Since some of the sources lack an anchoring in real life in the form of either a material setting, archaeological context or ritual performance, using them to project on the textual use and vice versa raises methodological issues. What prompted the translators of the Septuagint and the authors of the Book of Parables to use the epithet "Lord of Spirits"? Does this textual usage reflect a live ritual tradition or is it purely exegetical in nature? And how does this usage connect with the iconographical performance of the epithet in various contexts?

This article was written with the support of the Israel Science Foundation, grant number 2553/21. I owe my initial acquaintance with the Palmyrene inscription PAT 0065 to a discussion with Alexandra Kubiak-Schneider during a visit to Toulouse. I thank her for her hospitality and guidance. I also thank Jeremy Hutton for his advice. I am, of course, responsible for the content herein. See the postscript below about the recently published article by Litvinau 2022.

See Smith 2010; Parker 2017; Bonnet/Galoppin 2021.

Most of the examples covered in this paper are from Jewish sources but one of its aims is to expose the Koinè of divine epithets in Jewish literature and other Levantine sources. Jewish writers in Hebrew, Aramaic or Greek participate in this Koinè as active agents. That is, they are not merely "influenced" by their environment but are rather active generators of epithets, in parallel to other agents who generate the same or similar phraseology. Egyptian Jews, Greek-speaking Samaritans from Delos, Aramaic–speaking apocalyptic writers and Palmyrene petitioners all take part in this Koinè.

### 1 "Lord of Spirits" In The Book of Parables

The Book of Parables (also: Book of Similitudes) of Enoch is now contained in chapters 37–71 of the Ethiopic Book of Enoch. It is the only section of 1 Enoch that is preserved in neither Aramaic nor Greek, but rather only in the Geʿez (Ethiopic) version of the book.3 Like other Jewish apocalyptic texts written in Aramaic from the Hellenistic period, it employs a set of divine epithets that avoids the tetragrammaton and other appellations known from Hebrew sources, instead using an Aramaic set of epithets.4 The Book of Parables (henceforth BP), however, stands out even within this corpus due to its use of epithets. The two most conspicuous epithets in this source are "the Head of Days" (Eth. rәʾәsa mawā ә͑ l, probably Aramaic ןימוישאר rʾš ywmyn) and "The Lord of Spirits" (Eth. ʾәgziʾa manāfәst).5 While the former title is commonly understood to reflect the title "ancient of days" (Daniel 7:9), the source and meaning of the latter still lack sufficient explanation. The biblical (both Jewish and Greek) usages of this title are thoroughly discussed by Anna Angelini in her essay in this volume, together with pertinent inscriptional evidence. I aim to highlight a different aspect of the discussion, paying special attention to the Levantine setting of its employment in enochic literature.

BP was written around the Turn of the Era in the 1st century BCE or CE.<sup>6</sup> It is an enochic composition inasmuch as significant parts from it recount the content of the Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36) albeit with many variations and adaptations.<sup>7</sup> The book contains three "parables", in chapters 37–44, 45–57, 58–71. The main contents of

Scholars debate whether a Greek version existed or whether the book was translated directly from Aramaic. The former option is usually accepted. See Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 28–31 and the bibliography cited therein.

These titles are shared with other Aramaic texts from Qumran, most prominently the Genesis Apocryphon 1Q20. See Bernstein 2013.

The word ʾәgziʾa literally means "lord" ("dominus" in Dillman's dictionary). It can stand as an independent divine name in the Ethiopic Bible but that function is more often fulfilled by the compound ʾәgziʾabәḥer. When constructed with other words, the word әgziʾa means "lord of", as in the Geʿez version of Mark 2:28 "Lord of the Sabbath".

Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 58–63; Knibb 2009, 143–160; Erho 2011.

VanderKam 2007; Tigchelaar 2007.

these parables are long elaborations of the standard Aramaic throne scene known from 1 Enoch 14–15, Daniel 7 and the Book of Giants,<sup>8</sup> enmeshed with a mythicalgeographical account of heavenly phenomena. The heavenly scenes dwell particularly on the identity of those who take part in the court setting: the multitude of Holy Ones and Watchers, the presiding god and an intermediary figure, the Son of Man. The latter figure has received extensive scholarly attention due to its Christological undertones, but will not concern us here.

Aramaic Jewish literature underscores the sovereignty of God using the title רמ , mr "Lord, Master" (e.g. 1 En 9:3, 12:3; 1QapGen VII 7, XII 17 et al., Greek κύριος [1 Enoch 10:9, 11]). This term often stands in a construct pairing with the realms where sovereignty is practiced. Other epithets express loftiness, as in the title האלע , ʿlʾh "high one", ὕψιστος, <sup>9</sup> or eternality as in the term המלעארמ , mrʾ ʿlmh "eternal lord" (1 En 9:4), τῷ βασιλεῖ τῶν αἰώνων (12:3).<sup>10</sup> Other titles stress God's capacity as the leader of the divine assembly by means of the title אבראשידק ," the great holy one" (Greek τοῦ ἁγίου τοῦ μεγάλου, 14:1), i.e., the most powerful of all holy ones.11 His assumption of glory is attested in the title אתוברארמ mrʾ rbwtʾ, "Lord of Glory" (36:4), Greek 12:3 τῷ κυρίῳ τῆς μεγαλωσύνης.

BP employs similar titles to the wider enochic Aramaic repertoire, such as "Lord of Glory" (Eth. እግዚአ፡ ስብሐት, ʾәgziʾa sәbḥat) and "High One" (ልዑል lәʿul). But in the great majority of cases the preferred title is "Lord of spirits". <sup>12</sup> The title "Lord of Spirits" is used 104 times in BP, through all of its literary sections, even those that Nickelsburg considers to be later interpolations.13

Previous exegetes of 1 Enoch mention the precedents of this title in Hebrew literature. The Hebrew Bible uses the epithet "God of spirits for all flesh" רשבלכלתחורהיהלא , ʾlhy hrwḥt lkl bśr twice, in Numbers 16:22 and 27:16.14 The Septuagint gives a slightly variant reading: θεός τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης σαρκός "God of spirits and all flesh".

See Angel 2015 with earlier bibliography.

This title was particularly popular in Jewish texts from the second century BCE such as Ben Sira and The Book of Jubilees; see Aitken 2007.

The word םלע in Jewish sources of this period is often taken to maintain its older meaning, "eternity", attested e.g. in Ugaritic and biblical Hebrew. For the later spatial meaning of this term as "world", see below.

See Ben–Dov 2016; this title is attested in Hebrew ( שודקולודג , gdwl wqdwš "Great and Holy", or rather as a hendiadys: "the great holy one") in the Hymn to the creator from the psalms scroll 11QPs<sup>a</sup> XXVI 9.

According to Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, the title "lord" appears 124 times in BP while 104 of them are "Lord of Spirits".

Thus those in chapters 65–68, for example, which are often considered a noachic interpolation. The presence of this epithet throughout BP has led Black (1985, 191) to claim that the book's composition was uniform rather than a continuous act of accumulation. Nickelsburg sees numerous layers and modifications in BP while acknowledging that all of them use the same epithet.

The former is preceded by the divine name לא , ʾl, while the latter uses the tetragram yhwh.

The context in both cases is petitionary, within a supplication to the divine by Moses. The exact connotation in chapter 27 is the divine attendance to the mundane needs of the Israelite community in the desert, alluding to human leadership (Moses, Κorah, Joshua) that mediates the divine sovereignty over the community. The spirits in this epithet are most likely the human spirits of community members that receive individual providence from the divine.15 In Numbers 16, the epithet is invoked in an attempt to silence the divine wrath, in which case the spirits may also be divine malevolent beings. Later, in the mid-second century BCE, in the Book of Jubilees 10:3, the epithet appears in a petitionary prayer by Noah who asks to be saved from the evil spirits, in which case the use of this specific epithet is particularly efficacious.16

The efficacy of YHWH as represented by this epithet is expressed in a Jewish– Samaritan prayer for vengeance for the untimely death of two girls, preserved on two tombstones from the island of Rheneia near Delos from the late second – early first centuries BCE (I.Délos 2532, I–II = DB MAP S#10949). This usage is clearly dependent on the Septuagint. On these stones, the title "Lord of spirits and all flesh" serves to intensify the petition, summoning τὸν θεὸν τὸν ὕψιστον τὸν κύριον τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης σαρκός "God, the Most High, the Lord of Spirits and of all Flesh" to avenge the untimely death of the buried women.17 The angels of God who are summoned with him (lines 9–10) to carry out the act of vengeance are most likely identical to "the spirits" in the opening epithet, as claimed by van der Horst. Note that the opening title distinguishes the Most High God (θεὸν) from the Lord (κύριον) of spirits. This distinction verifies that Jews used this epithet with the title "Lord" rather than the "God of Spirits" as in the biblical text, both Hebrew and Greek.

The tombstones from Rheneia show an iconographic motif that exemplifies the efficacy of the deity invoked in the inscription (Fig. 1). A second occurrence of the same motif with an Aramaic inscription is discussed below and will buttress the continuity of the title and its performance. The motif of two hands raised up in prayer is typical on the tombstones of young people who suffered untimely death, the Delos stones being one of its earliest attestations.<sup>18</sup> The addressee of the uplifted hands in the Greco-Roman world is often Helios or other astral deities, or Shamash in Syrian inscriptions, being deities whose sight is all-encompassing. In a Jewish context, this function is fulfilled by God: "you who see everything and your angels". 19

Pace Angelini (in this volume), I do not read this epithet in Numbers 27:16 as referring to the multiplicity of divine spirits.

For this prayer, see Stuckenbruck 2005.

See van der Horst/Newman 2008, 140; Angelini (in this volume); Stökl Ben Ezra 2003, 48. Scholars point out a later use of this connotation in 1 Clement 64:1 "The all-seeing God and master of the spirits (δεσπóτης τῶν πνευμάτων) and lord of all flesh".

Graf 2007; Brugnone 2021.

Compare a Jewish or Christian tombstone from Paflagonia with the same motif, where the hands are addressed to Κύριος Παντοκράτωρ (Brugnone 2021, 184–185).

Fig. 1: Front side of a marble tombstone from Rheneia (I.Délos 2532). Drawing after Deissmann 1923, 352 Abb. 73.

The efficacy of this epithet is also expressed, albeit in a different context, in the divine reaction to Heliodorus' attempt to ransack the Jerusalem temple treasury (2 Maccabees 3:24). Here, the reaction is produced by the "Ruler of spirits and all the authorities" (ὁ τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης ἐξουσίας δυνάστης), who sends an angelic warrior to attack Heliodorus. The context quite specifically connotes the divine sovereignty over both the human and divine realms, possibly with the spirits representing the latter and the authorities the former (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:24).<sup>20</sup> Finally, the Qumran Hodayot (preceding the BP by a century or so) employ the term חורלוכלןודא , ʾdwn lkl rwḥ "Lord of every spirit (i.e. all spirits)" in 1QH<sup>a</sup> 18:8 as part of a chain of divine epithets

For the interpretation and context of this verse, see Doran 2012, 87.

that underscore the divine sovereignty over all aspects of the world, both human and divine.

August Dillmann, in his 1853 commentary, thought that the spirits in the epithet "Lord of Spirits" are both human and heavenly.<sup>21</sup> For Matthew Black, the pentateuchal precedents are hardly a source of the enochic term, but 2 Maccabees 3:24 and 1QHa 18:8 are closer.22 According to Black, the epithet could reflect the original Hebrew תוחור) ל (ןודא , ʾdwn (l)rwḥwt, as in the Qumran Hodayot, carrying the theological-cosmological connotations of the Treatise of Two spirits in the Qumranic tradition (1QS 3–4). Alternatively, he suggests that the enochic term is an interpretative transformation of the biblical title הוהי תואבצ , yhwh ṣbʾwt "YHWH of hosts" or "Lord of hosts" with the hosts connoting the heavenly host, seen here as spirits. Already in the Septuagint, the title תואבצ is sometimes represented as κυριος τ ́ ῶν δυναμεων ́ . 23

The transformation of "hosts" to "spirits" is especially apparent in the throne scenes of BP, where the heavenly beings chant various liturgical formulae: the common formula "Blessed be YHWH and blessed be His name forever" ( ומשךורבוהוהיךורב דעוםלועל( , brwk yhwh wbrwk šmw lʿwlm wʿd, and the trishagion of Isaiah 6:13.

Let us compare the first formula as attested in the litany form of Psalm 145 in the scroll 11QPsa (one of its numerous occurrences), with its representation in BP. The formula appears twice in BP with variations:

11QPs<sup>a</sup> Blessed be He and Blessed be His name for ever and ever

1 En 39:13 Blessed are You and Blessed is the name of the Lord for ever and ever

1 En 61:11 Blessed be He, and blessed is the name of the Lord of Spirits for ever and ever

While in 39:13 the formula appears as expected, in 61:11 "the Lord" was replaced with "The Lord of Spirits".

A similar situation pertains in 39:12, where the divine name in the trishagion is altered:<sup>24</sup>

Isa 6:13 Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts; his glory fills the entire earth 1 En 39:12 Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of spirits; he fills the earth with spirits

Dillmann 1853, 140.

Black 1985, 190–192. The fact that the epithet is used throughout BP attests, in Black's opinion, to the literary unity of the composition.

For the various representations of this title in LXX, see Talshir 1987; recently Angelini (in this volume). For a similar derivation of the "Lord of Spirits", see Olson 2004, 74. Olson (2004, 136) adds references for the afterlife of the epithet: Tertullian's quotation of 2 Cor 3:18; Clement of Alexandria; the Persian apocalypse Bahman Yašt; and the Greek–Egyptian magical papyri.

For quotations and paraphrases of the trishagion, see among many other examples Revelation 4:8, and cf. Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 125–129 and the earlier literature cited there.

Nickelsburg notes the expected use of "Lord" (Aramaic רמ , mr) in BP, which conveys sovereignty over earthly might. But whence the spirits? From the altered quotation of the trishagion, he concludes that the epithet "Lord of Spirits" was created for a liturgical context.<sup>25</sup> This is further supported, he claims, by the frequent collocation "in front of the Lord of Spirits" (e.g. 47:4) and by the thirty occurrences of the collocation "the name of the Lord of Spirits", many of them in the context of praise (e.g. 39:9, 61:9). In Second Temple Jewish liturgy and later, the name of God is a central object for praise, sometimes even replacing the deity itself, as for example in the doxologies in Psalms 72:18–19, 113:1.<sup>26</sup> The BP thus retains a performative context for the epithet, but this context is not petitionary as in the inscriptional evidence from Delos but rather laudatory, within hymns and liturgies. Songs of praise became the central genre of Second Temple Jewish liturgy, sometimes replacing the roles of other genres of prayer.27

Importantly, Nickelsburg observes that the epithet is in fact BP's version of the more common epithet "the Great Holy One" ( אבראשידק , qdyšʾ rbʾ), i.e., "the greatest of the Holy Ones", with the Holy Ones replaced by spirits. According to him, this would fit the general image of God in BP, who is mostly active only by means of angels and messengers.28

A scrutiny of the find may add several further insights. The fact that the Lord of spirits merges in the general enochic set of epithets is made clear in 40:3, where the epithet is interchangeable with "the Lord of Glory" (እግዚአ ስብሐት, ʾәgziʾa sәbḥat, probably Aramaic אדובכרמ , mr kbwdʾ), and in 58:4 where it parallels the title "Eternal Lord" (እግዚአ፡ ዓለም, ʾәgziʾa ͑ālam, probably Aramaic אמלעארמ mrʾ ʿlmh; Cf. 4Q202 1 iii 14; 1Q20 XXI 2 אימלעהרמ] pl.]). Further, the divine name serves as a manifestation, even a hypostasis of the divinity in BP. Thus, "the name of the Lord of Spirits" is mentioned not only when it is being praised, but also as an independent agent in the divine interaction. Thus, in 46:7, the wicked people deny the name of the Lord of Spirits and in 61:9 God will judge humanity "according to the word of the name of the Lord of Spirits", i.e. the divine logos.

Having surveyed the main occurrences of the epithet, a prominent question remains: why does the author of BP cherish the spirits so much? And why is this liturgical epithet so widely employed as an appellation of the divine powers?

One answer for this question would come from the cosmological context of BP, where much emphasis is given to the winds. They, in turn, are designated by the same Hebrew and Aramaic term חור , as well as by the Greek πνεύμα. The winds are ubiquitous in the cosmological sections scattered throughout BP. For example, a short section in 41:3–4 is expanded into a long treatise in 60:11–22, where six types of wind

Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 39, 91.

For praising the name of god, see Nitzan 1994, 173–200.

Nitzan 1994; Pajunen 2015. A similar practice is attested in Palmyrene inscriptions (see below).

Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 40.

(manfasa) are recounted – winds of the sea, frost/hail, snow, mist, dew and rain – in vivid mythological terms together with the earthly and heavenly phenomena that they generate.29 A short recollection of the winds in 69:22–23 resembles the account in 41:3–4; the special part about this recollection is that verse 24 immediately continues with the praise that the winds (manfasāt) give in front of the Lord of Spirits.<sup>30</sup> There must therefore be some connection between the cosmological interests of BP and the unique use of spirits in its preferred divine title. To the best of my knowledge, thus far, this matter has not been suggested.<sup>31</sup>

Chapter 41 reveals yet more information about the πνεύματα in BP. While vv. 3–4 describe the winds as weather phenomena, vv. 8–9 discuss the spirits of human beings. Both are contained in chapter 41 alongside the account of the heavenly luminaries, those that are elsewhere known as "the Heavenly Host". This entire array is thus conceptually bound together by the authors of BP, and its constituents can all correspond to the ambiguous "spirits" in the title "Lord of Spirits".

To sum up the discussion thus far, two central options have been raised for the Semitic origin of the title: תואבצהוהי , yhwh ṣbʾwt (Black) or אבראשידק , qdyšʾ rbʾ (Nickelsburg), both denoting the heavenly powers and both connected with a liturgical context. However, attention should be given to all possible meanings of the Hebrew-Aramaic term חור , rwḥ, Greek πνεύμα, which underlies the Ethiopic title. This term may in fact designate three different entities: (a) wind, (b) the human soul, and (c) divine beings, angels. While both proposals cited above favour meaning (c), a case was made for meaning (a) and more could be claimed for meaning (b). In fact, Nickelsburg does mention the human souls (b) as a possible subject of this epithet, in line with the biblical precedents mentioned above.<sup>32</sup> This meaning of the Lord of Spirits may correspond to the account of a storehouse of human souls in the Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 22).

This section is quite different from other descriptions of the winds (e.g. in the Astronomical Book, chapters 76–77) and thus reflects a unique interest of BP (see VanderKam 2007, 95–96). Nickelsburg (2001, 221–224) repositions it after the cosmological account of 59:1–3. He also notes that the joint section is an expansion of the cosmic account in chapters 41–44.

The distinct translations of the same Ethiopic word are discussed by Nickelsburg 2001, 227–228.

It might be added that several Greek inscriptions from Delos (I.Délos 1754, 2305, 2415, 2416 = DB MAP S#9166, 4552, 10655, 10656) invoke Zeus Ourios. i.e., "Zeus of the fair wind". Delos cults are known for their association with oriental deities (see e.g. Moyer 2011), and the inscription I.Délos 2305 is presented by an individual from Ascalon. I thank Corinne Bonnet for alerting me to this connection. Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 41.

The problem with meaning (c) is that "spirits" are never used in BP as an appellation for angels or minor divinities. They are called "holy ones", "holy angels", "those who sleep not", "cherubim Seraphim, Ophanim" etc., but never "Spirits". 33

### 2 The Levantine Setting

George Nickelsburg paved the way for anchoring enochic divine epithets in the repertoire of Greek and Aramaic inscriptions from the northern Levant of late Antiquity. Since the enochic corpus was conceived and developed in what is now northern Israel, it constitutes part of the mythological and cultic realities of that region.

As part of his wider thesis about the origin of the Book of Watchers in the area of the Hermon slopes and the Dan river in upper Galilee, Nickelsburg studied the epithet אבראשידק ," The Great Holy One". He noted the appearance of the same name in a Greek inscription from a Roman temple on Mt. Hermon from the third century CE.34 This inscription is one of many Greek inscriptions from the Roman period found in temples and other ritual edifices in the Hermon region. It is now published as IGLS 11, 40 = MAP DB S#1474 (T#1896).<sup>35</sup> The inscription was found in the site of Qasr Antar at the summit of Mt. Hermon, near a temple enclosure, in what seems to have been a ritual circumambulation carrying an oath of initiation for those entering.<sup>36</sup> The inscription reads: κατὰ κέλευσιν θεοῦ μεγίστου κὲ ἁγίου οἱ ὀμωύοντες ἐντεῦθεν "According to the command of the greatest a[nd] holy god, those who take an oath [proceed] from here". The title "greatest and holy god" corresponds quite closely to the enochic title qdyšʾ rbʾ, which sometimes appears in reversed order as אשידקואבר , rbʾ wqdyšʾ "great and holy one". Nickelsburg has thus rightly concluded that the traditions of the Watchers were fashioned in the religious climate of the Hermon slopes in the early Hellenistic period. This is supported by the evidence of the Book of Watchers itself, which mentions local toponyms and even names one of the angels ינמרח , ḥrmny, "The Hermonian". <sup>37</sup> Another inscription from the Hermon region (IGLS 11, 1 = DB MAP S#1364 from Haloua) mentions the "holy god" from Remala alongside the Angel God Melikertes (κατὰ κέλευσι[ν] θεοῦ ἀνγέλ[ου] Μελικέρτ[ου]). Earlier readers of this

Nickelsburg/VanderKam 2012, 40–41. Interestingly, they are never called "watcher and holy one" ( שידקוריע , ʿyr wqdyš) as is common in the Book of Watchers.

Nickelsburg 2001, 238–247, esp. 247. Aliquot 2009, 25. See now Miller 2017.

Aliquot 2008a, 72–73.

Clermont-Ganneau 1903; Belayche 2001, 188; Aliquot 2008b, 82.

See also the sources collected by Aliquot 2008a, 72–73. For some criticism on Nickelsburg, which however does not undermine his thesis, see Eshel/Eshel 2003.

text commented on the association of angels with the Hermon region according to the Book of Watchers.<sup>38</sup>

As we now know thanks to the MAP database, similar epithets are invoked in IGLS 7, 4034 = MAP DB S#1464 (Θεῷ [μ]εγίστῳ ἁγίῳ ἐπηκόῳ Βαιτοχειχει; Mt. Al-Nabi Saleh, near Tartous) and MAP DB T#7908 (ἐκ κ[ελεύ]σεως θεοῦ μεγίστου ἁγίου Βήλου: Apamea). A Roman inscription from the site of Maad (MAP DB T#5090) invokes Τῷ κυρίῳ ἁγί<ῳ> κὲ κυ[ρ]ίῳ ὅλου [τ]οῦ κόσ[μ]ου, "The holy Master and Master of the whole universe"; while this does not parallel a specific enochic epithet, it reflects the religious atmosphere of the Book of Watchers, with the holy god and his supremacy over the powers of the cosmos. Associating these inscriptions with the enochic literature that precedes them by three centuries or so requires a sense of longue durée, based on the notions that religious traditions persisted in the region through the centuries until they finally found written expression in the Roman period.

### 3 Palmyra

Can we suggest a similar move with regard to the "Lord of Spirits"? The Hermon region provides no help in this regard, but I suggest stretching the temporal and spatial borders even further, by examining late antique inscriptions from Palmyra. The initial drive to examine Palmyrene inscriptions arose from my recognition that much of their religious language corresponds to the enochic books, written several centuries earlier in a different dialect of Aramaic. I will quote only two prominent parallels. The first one pertains to the liturgical formula "Blessed be His name forever", encountered above in the Jewish sources. Palmyrene inscriptions regularly employ the dedication formula םלעלהמשךירבל , lbryk šmh lʿlm "To the one whose name is blessed forever" (thus e.g., IGLS 17 I, 342 =PAT 1559 = DB MAP S#6423 to name just one example).39 The second one is the Jewish epithet ה)י (מלעארמ , mrh ʿlm(y)h, "Lord of eternity/ies", which appears several times in the Qumranic corpus (in the enochic texts 4Q202 1 iii 14 [1 En 9:4]; outside them: Testament of Qehat 4Q542 1 i 2 ([ אימלעהלא , ʾlh ʿlmyʾ]; Words of Michael 4Q529 passim [ אמלעירמיבר , rby mry ʿlmʾ, "the Great One, eternal lord"]; Genesis Apocryphon 1Q20 XXI 2, and many others). This title, in turn, appears quite a few times in Palmyra as םלערמ , mr ʿlm, "Lord of Eternity / world". <sup>40</sup> The earliest attestation (114 CE) appears

See Aliquot 2009, 20–28.

Kubiak-Schneider 2021a, 135–136.

See Kubiak-Schneider 2021a, 121–122; 2021b. Kubiak-Schneider also notes its appearance in Nabatean inscriptions. She considers the Palmyrene term םלע to carry both a temporal meaning (as in biblical Hebrew) and a spatial one, "the universe", as in rabbinic Hebrew. However, the Aramaic sources from Qumran attest to the temporal meaning only, as can be learned from the frequent employment of the plural form ןימלע . Since a plurality of worlds does not make sense in this context, the temporal meaning is preferable.

in PAT 0332 = DB MAP T#1355 and others follow in PAT 0258, 1917, 1918, 0344, 0335 (= DB MAP T#732, 3296, 3299, 1520, 1109). Finally, the divine appellation האלע , ʿlʾh, "High(est) One", Hebrew ןוילע , corresponds to the ubiquitous Greek epithet ὕψιστος, common in Palmyra and throughout the late antique Levant.41 There is thus significant correspondence between the Qumran Aramaic titles and the late antique Syrian ones.

Given this correspondence, it is worth examining an epithet attested once in Palmyra in the bilingual ex-voto inscription IGLS 17 I, 383 (= PAT 0065 = DB MAP S#307), a third century CE stone blab kept at the Museum of Beirut (Fig. 2).<sup>42</sup> Quite surprisingly, the slab shows the motif of two hands raised up in prayer, the same motif as in the Greek inscriptions from Rheneia (Delos).

Next to a short Greek inscription, an Aramaic inscription expresses the efficacious role played by the god in saving a certain lady Aqamat through various predicaments she encountered during her lifetime.<sup>43</sup> The bottom-right part of the Aramaic inscription disappeared, leading to some disagreements with regard to the reading. I quote the top three lines according to most up-to-date reading in PAT 0065 and IGLS 17 I, 383.<sup>44</sup>

א[ אבראהל ] מ[ר] ךירבלואתמשנא [ל] תרבתמקאאידומ [ אמלעלהמש ] ( אתכשחב PAT (אככשחבהתרקידלבהל [ ארבאלמ ]

[l]ʾ[lhʾ rbʾ] m[r]ʾ nšmtʾ wlbryk [šmh lʿlmʾ] mwdyʾ ʾqmt brt [mlʾ br ʾ]lhbl dy qrth bḥškkʾ

[To] the [great] g[od], l[or]d of living things,45 even to Blessed-Be- [His-Name–Forever], there offers thanks Aqamat, daughter of [Male, son of E]lhabel who called to him in darkness.

The reading of the first line is difficult. Milik suggested a different reading, but an examination of better photographs and the expected context confirmed Ingholt's initial reading.<sup>46</sup> Ingholt has offered a philological analysis of the inscription, the only one as far as I can see. The lady Aqamat thanks her god, while invoking his benevo-

Kubiak–Schneider 2021a, 187–197.

Yon 2012, 304–305 with earlier bibliography.

For the iconography, see Drijvers 1976, 15; Cussini 2019. Ingholt 1936 (followed by Heyn 2019, 155) notes that this motif occurs mostly on objects dedicated to the deity "the one whose name is blessed". Translation follows Cussini 2019, 61.

The word nšmh, "soul, spirit", appears in Biblical Aramaic, Daniel 5:23 in the phrase "the God that your life is in his hand". It is attested in Jewish Aramaic and in the Syriac Peshitta, but PAT 0065 is its only occurrence in Palmyrene, based on the Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon (https://cal.huc.edu). accepts 231 :a2021 Schneider–Kubiak .]ל]א[ אאנוקל ]ר[ע] משוא [י]א :read 182 1972, Milik 305. 2012, Yon Yon's reading but doubts the reading of the first letter (n) in nšmtʾ. I was not able to find a better image of the inscription in order to check the reading myself.

Fig. 2: Votive slab from Palmyra with bilingual inscription. PAT 0065. After Drijvers 1976, plate XXX.

lent epithet as the master of souls, for practicing his sovereignty and redeeming her. As noted by Cussini, this inscription contains some unusual religious formulations which may have been derived from the spoken language.<sup>47</sup> The imagery "calls in the dark" and the unique divine epithet might be part of this repertoire.

Ingholt suggested a connection between אתמשנרמ and the subsequent epithet ךירב םלעלהמש" He whose name is blessed forever" and with the epithet םלערמ" Lord of Eternity". <sup>48</sup> Precisely those epithets were mentioned above as part of the stock epithets of Aramaic liturgy which find parallels in Jewish texts. But the usage of "Lord of Spirits" in Palmyra also resembles its use in the tombstone inscriptions from Rheneia. Yet while that invocation is based on explicit biblical proof texts (Num 16:22, 27:16), the Palmyrene epithet was apparently not committed to that precedent but rather reflects an independent use of the epithet "Lord of (human) souls". Unfortunately, this epithet is not attested elsewhere in Palmyra and thus its religious usage cannot yet be fully illuminated. The use of the same iconography is suggestive, but given the wide circulation of the raised hands motif it cannot lead us to specific conclusions about the Palmyra slab.

The Palmyrene title closely corresponds to the epithet "Lord of Spirits" from the Book of Parables of Enoch. Its dedication to "the one whose name is blessed forever" also corresponds to the Jewish liturgical formula quoted above, which is also common

Cussini 2019, 62.

Ingholt 1936, 100–102.

in BP. While there is no clear proof for assuming contact between them, the fact that formulae were shared between Qumran Aramaic and the Palmyrene religious vocabulary posits this connection as possible if not probable.

While the inscriptions from Delos and Palmyra invoke the Lord of Spirits for the sake of an individual speaker and call or thank for individual providence, the context in BP departs from individual concerns to general liturgical formulae and even cosmological traits of the god. The inscriptional evidence uses "spirits" in the sense of (b) human souls and possibly (c) divine beings. The spirits in the BP epithet seem to carry the additional cosmological sense of (a) winds.

# 4 Conclusion

The present article sought to shed more light on a divine title that is particular to the Book of Parables (1 Enoch 37–71). Past discussions of the epithet were limited to its textual, one may say even scriptural, context, despite the fact that 1 Enoch is not Scripture for the great majority of scholars who studied it. Yet the study of such an epithet calls for a wider toolbox in order to exhaust what can be said about its translation, transmission and their dynamics. For this purpose, I examined the representations of this epithet in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint (Numbers, 2 Maccabees) as well as in two inscriptions: a tombstone from Delos (Rheneia) and a votive object from Palmyra, the only non-Jewish item in the repertoire.

The variety of uses of this epithet derives from the multivalence of the Semitic (Hebrew and Aramaic) word rwḥ and the Greek πνέυμα. The use of this epithet arose in order to denote God's providence over humans who seek his help, usually in a petitionary context. Thus, twice in the Book of Numbers, Moses invokes the deity under this capacity. A prayer in the Book of Jubilees augments the epithet with a new aspect: God's authority over the demons, thus introducing the connotation of this epithet as underscoring the multifacetedness of the divine realm. A narrative in the Book of 2 Maccabees similarly invokes the divine power over other deities, this time in a military context. The inscriptions from Delos stress God's capacity as an avenger, together with the angels, and a much later inscription from Palmyra uses the same epithet to thank a god for his capacity as protector of human beings. The entire array draws the image of a god who provides protection to human beings and masters the divine assembly, and hence can be petitioned in various sorts of prayers.

The Book of Parables builds upon the previous repertoire while significantly augmenting it as it becomes its standard divine title. The epithet continues to underscore the multifactedness of the divine, as typical in the apocalyptic milieu, where the sovereignty of the One is underscored by the multiplicity of the divine assembly.<sup>49</sup> This

Ben-Dov 2016.

meaning is also based on the Hebrew title תואבצהוהי , Yhwh ṣbʾwt. However, the context of individual supplication is transformed into a more wide-ranging context of praise and hymnody, connecting the Lord of Spirits with the trishagion and other praise formulae. At the same time, BP expands the meaning of the "spirits". While acknowledging the divine sovereignty over human souls, the epithet is additionally understood to refer to divine spirits and cosmological winds, which are prominent in this book.

The association of the Jewish sources with a much later non-Jewish text from Palmyra reflects my continued efforts to read Early Jewish apocalypticism as part of the wider Levant in the Hellenistic-Roman period.50 Based on earlier demonstrations of the continuity between enochic traditions and the religious life of the Hermon region, I added some parallels that specifically pertain to the Palmyrene inscriptions.

Jewish apocalyptic texts like the Book of Parables, other sections of 1 Enoch and Qumran writings, are often taken as separatist and insular, lying untouched by the surrounding environment. These texts, moreover, employ harsh antagonist rhetoric against "the gentiles". However, even such polemical texts are, by definition, part of their culture and environment. As I explained elsewhere, Jewish apocalyptic and sectarian writings explicitly connect themselves with the North-Galilean – Syrian environment despite their vehement rhetoric, hence such interaction is only expectable. The present study demonstrates the power of the Greco-Roman Levant as a generative environment for cultural and religious concepts. Jewish authors in Hebrew and Aramaic were not merely passive recipients or "influenced" by their environment, but rather active agents in the generation and transformation of religious imagery.

#### Postscript

At the very last moment before this article went to print, I came across the recent study of the "Lord of Spirits" by Fiodar Litvinau.51 In this highly learned article, Litvinau surveys a vast array of sources, from ancient Mesopotamian cuneiform texts to the medieval Christian liturgical tradition, many of them not surveyed here. The Syrian sources mentioned here are not surveyed by Litvinau, nor does he relate to the iconographic context and the performance of this epithet in the various contexts.

The article came too late for me to indulge with it in detail. I will summarize it shortly inasmuch as it pertains to the present argument. His main line of argument is that the spirits in the BP epithet are not angelic but rather only human. For this purpose, he surveys the main sources studied here (mainly LXX Numbers, the Delos tomb inscriptions, 1 En 60) together with many additional sources, and claims that they cannot relate to "winds" or to "heavenly spirits", i.e. angels, but rather only to humans. In

See Ben-Dov 2016; Ben–Dov 2018–2019; Ben-Dov 2022.

Litvinau 2022.

contrast, I allow a wider and more variegated meaning for the spirits in this epithet, building on the ambiguity of the term in both Semitic languages (Hebrew, Aramaic, Geʿez) and Greek. Litvinau's article is substantial and merits further discussion, and I acknowledge his superb philological skill. I hope to address some of his specific points in the future, yet on first glance I still retain my position that the spirits in this epithet may convey various meanings.

# Bibliography


Part 7: Mobility, Transmission, Translation

# Laurent Bricault and Carolina López-Ruiz Introduction

He who made adoration towards Isis of Philae is fortunate, not only because he becomes rich, but because at the same time he obtains a long life.

I, who was raised close to Isis Pharia, have come here – I am Serenos, assistant to the illustrious Ptolemaios – in the company of Felix and Apollonios the painter; prompted by oracles of Apollo, invincible lord, it is for the sake of libations and sacrifices that we have come here, desirous of participating in these. One will find nothing blameworthy.1

So speaks Serenos, raised in Alexandria near Isis Pharia, when coming to make adoration towards Isis of Philae, one thousand kilometers far south from the Egyptian capital. Individuals travelled and still travel all around the wider Mediterranean, – really wider since the first cataract doesn't lie on the shore of the Mare nostrum – sometimes to visit gods they know well. Or not so well. Sometimes they travel to visit a goddess, like here Isis of Philae, when they frequent every day another Isis, the one from the Pharos in Alexandria. And sometimes individuals carry with them a god or a goddess far from his/her divine home, addressing at the end of the voyage a warm thanks to another one, as we can see in a second inscription, this time coming from the Portus Ostiae, where an anonymous dedicant – the lower part of the stone is lost – dedicates "to Isis Pharia (an image of) Isis of Menouthis2 for the health of his sovereign, the emperor Antoninus [. . .]." 3

Isis Pharia helped the dedicant to cross the Mediterranean without incident between Menouthis and Ostia, just as Isis of Menouthis will help the emperor to stay in good health. "L'union fait la force". And the number of Isis that can be summoned each day is infinite, as we well know. As are her names. Just call her murionuma ("the one of innumerable names").<sup>4</sup>

Divine images and divine names travel for many different reasons – pilgrimage, trade, exile, tourism, colonisation, military campaigns, etc. – and on different scales, together with individuals, objects, writings, rituals and even gods. In this framework of onomastic and iconographic transfers, individuals may show a persistent fidelity to ancestral customs or adapt names and images to the new environment (natural, social, political, linguistic) in which the god is established. The circulation of divine names, their transmission and reception, their appropriation, adaptation and translation generate all sorts of variations in the onomastic sequences, in the construction of images (like the one – the ones? – of Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis<sup>5</sup> ) as well as in the configurations of divine powers and ritual practices.

I.Philae 168 = DB MAP S#538 (191 CE).

I.e., the healing and oracular goddess from that little coastal town between Canopos and Alexandria.

RICIS 503/1204 = IG Porto 9 = DB MAP S#14434 (2nd c. CE).

Bricault 1994.

Bricault 2021.

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-036

The aim of this thematic section is therefore to analyse and exemplify the interplay between tradition, appropriation, and innovation, and even sometimes anchoring innovation in specific moments and places that characterise the divine names and images in movement. The essays bring forth an impressive array of case studies, drawing on sources that span the classical world as well as Egyptian, Hittite-Luwian, Aramaean, Phoenician, and Hebrew cultural realms. From the rich information and analyses they offer, they contribute to the important questions that are at the heart of the matrix of our mapping project: To what extent are divine names translatable? How, when, why, and with which kind of "rules" or "intentions" do people adapt and translate divine names? What is involved in naming and thinking about gods in different languages? As case studies in this section and beyond it illustrate, transfers and translations generate additional meaning and intelligibility or result in misunderstanding or enigmas. Who are the main actors in these processes and which kind of knowledge do they mobilise? What images are generated during these transmissions, translation, and adaptations? In sum, what do these phenomena tell us about the very nature of divine names, between elaborated ontological constructions and daily pragmatism? By way of setting the stage for the next chapters (and not as answers to the above questions), we offer some thoughts about the limitations of our data set and the possible levels of interpretation it opens up.

First, we should note that it is extremely difficult to pin down how interpretatio worked at a religious or theological level. At the same time, identifications of gods across cultures seem to have been intuitive for the ancient onlookers. In fact, it is fairly easy to imagine why it worked so productively in the ancient Mediterranean's polytheistic setting (also within the Judeo-Christian tradition we can witness "syncretisms" of different sorts).<sup>6</sup> Perhaps for this reason, ancient writers did not bother to theorize what we call interpretatio (they drew unqualified equations, e.g., "Belos, who is Zeus," "Elos, who is Kronos," or lumped titles together, e.g., Venus "who is called Astarte," and the like). Perhaps the most intriguing and frustrating of all is Herodotos' statement when he reduces Egyptian influence on Greek religion to an adaptation of "the names" (onomata) of the gods.7 Did he equate "names" with representation, attributes (Tacitus' "vis"), or simply "names"? Given the lack of meta-discourse from the ancients about the matter, recent books like those by Robert Parker, or Corinne Bonnet and Laurent Bricault focus their efforts, as they should, on the specifics: the testimonies, the intersections between cultic places, ritual actions, and mythological clues, while taking analysis and interpretation of the phenomenon as far as each cultural-historical framework allows.8

Bonnet 2022; Bettini 2016 on Roman interpretatio, a term first used in this sense by Tacitus.

See Palamidis in this volume, 595–596.

Parker 2017; Bonnet/Bricault 2016.

As a second and related point, it is still possible and worthwhile to disentangle different levels of translation and adaptation that lie behind the divine names and titles in our sources: for instance, there is a literary or scholarly type of interpretatio, the one Herodotos, Tacitus, Plutarch, Philo of Byblos, and others resorted to. While they were not necessarily disconnected from practices in the "real world," their discourse may produce a somewhat artificial or "top-down" systematization stemming from a detached observation or information. Bruce Lincoln's description of ancient exercises of comparative ethnography could be applied here, to the effect that "preconceived theoretical patterns and commitments dispose an author to construe as 'evidence' those data – whether empirically observed, wholly imaginary, or imaginatively massaged into shape – that serve to confirm a theory." <sup>9</sup> At another level, we can think of the phenomena of translation or adaptation as attested "on the ground" (a "bottom-up" view). The latter is likely reflected in written sources stemming from cultic, civic, or private contexts (including magic), mainly in epigraphic and papyrological sources. Among this second type of sources may be official expressions of cult (decrees, communal votives, religious associations, etc.), as well as private votives or religious expressions, but also theophoric personal names, which often translate or adapt divine names across cultures, even if these may reflect family traditions and not a conscious translation in every generation (see Cornell's chapter). At any rate, these are examples of different levels of discourse, triggered by different relationships with the religious realm and performed for different audiences.

In a similar way, interpretation or translation of divine names operated at a very pragmatic level as well as at an abstract level. This sort of equation formulae among gods across cultures allowed worshipers to cast a broader net when calling for divine help in strange lands and to reconcile or merge family or community traditions in multilingual-multicultural contexts, etc. (e.g., chapters by Bachvarova and Pérez Yarza/Bonnet); at a larger scale, these processes allowed political and ethnic groups to find a middle ground at key moments. A great example is the invocation of Greek and Carthaginian gods drawn between Philip V of Macedon and Carthaginian representatives (Hannibal included) in 215 BCE. The gods are invoked as witnesses of both armies, and the names in Greek are clearly intended to correspond to equivalent gods in the (lost) Carthaginian version: Zeus, Hera, Apollo, Heracles, Iolaos, Ares, Triton, and Poseidon (presumed to stand also for Baal Hammon, Tanit, Melqart, and other gods – not always clear which – on the Punic side), appear alongside categories intended to include all possible relevant gods, including "all the gods that accompany the army," "all the gods" of Carthage, Macedon, and Greece, and "all the gods of war" who witness the oath.10 In all cases, interpretatio relies on an agreed-upon abstraction,

E.g., Lincoln 2018, 96, referring as example to the Hippocratic treatise On Airs, Waters, and Places (ca. 430 BCE), which represents the introduction of ecological determinism. Plb. 7.9.2–3.

a theological acceptance or assumption of common ground and legitimacy of other people's deities (religion is, after all, based on the most blatant leap from concrete actions and words to an invisible, intangible, abstract "reality").

A third point is that the consequence of these identifications pulled in various, sometimes opposite directions: interpretation or translation can be seen as an innovation that obscured and forever changed the "original" identity of local gods now fused into the Greco-Roman milieu; on the other hand, just like allegory or euhemerism and other efforts at interpretation of the ancient gods and their stories, these processes also show the resilience of local deities. Adaptation meant innovation and change as much as it was a resource for survival of traditions as they entered into contact (or collision) with dominant religions and shifting ideologies (see Cornell's chapter).<sup>11</sup>

This brings us to a last reflection, also illustrated by the following essays: oftentimes, linguistic and mythological or symbolic similarities are our main resource for teasing out connections among deities from different cultures (e.g., Bachvarova's chapter), and translation of gods' names can reveal theological and philosophical developments and adaptations (e.g., Angelini's chapter). It is worth asking, however, to what degree these identifications resulted from the observation of similar ritual practices and habits (e.g., pilgrimages and oracles in Rutherford's chapter) or as much (if not more) from more intellectually-driven exchanges and traveling mythological narratives. As Radcliffe Edmonds has remarked, authors who wrote about these identifications, such as Herodotos, Diodoros of Sicily, and Plutarch, often emphasize the similarities between rituals and cultic experiences, which contrasts with the focus on mythological traditions and etymology in modern scholarship.12 Iconography, with its capacity for conservativism and adaptability, is another fundamental channel to identify and blend divine attributes across cultures and religions.13 When it comes to cross-cultural transfers and adaptations of religious elements, considering material practices and experiences, as well as the register of language, may be perhaps more fruitful than attempting to reconstruct beliefs systems, as religions "will always involve material forms. It is in that materiality that they are part of experience and provoke responses." 14

One thing is clear: the more people moving in the ancient Mediterranean and observing, sharing, and adapting the practices of others, the more these identifications were organically deployed, our preserved texts being only the tip of the iceberg. The following chapters provide explorations and specific examples of these encounters.

E.g., Brisson 2004 for allegory; Roubekas 2017 for Euhemerism; for Phoenician Euhemerism, López-Ruiz 2017.

Edmonds 2013, 421–432, drawing especially on Plutarch's Isis and Osiris.

E.g., Nitschke 2013; Bettini 2016; Daniels 2021; Orsingher 2021. See here the section "Names and Images", 237–357.

Keane 2008, 124.

# Bibliography


# Collin Cornell Interpretatio Among Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt

Abstract: The chapter "Interpretatio among Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt" in its first section offers a working definition of interpretatio as an act of discernment – of spotting and recognizing one's own god behind the differing name and presentation given by another culture. It then introduces Levantines: the inheritors of subjugated, eastern Mediterranean, Iron Age kingdoms, and it describes the Levantines of Hellenistic Egypt, whose diaspora communities aligned with the Greek occupiers over against the native Egyptians. The middle section of the chapter provides case studies, both of Levantines transliterating their ancestral gods' names and of Levantines discerning their known, ancestral god under the name and operation of Greek gods such as Apollo or Dionysos. These case studies embolden the conditions for interpretatio that are distinctive to Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt, namely, the long-term coincidence of three politically asymmetrical cultures (Greeks, Egyptians, Levantines). The chapter as a whole also attends to the historiographical stakes: relative to the scholarly tradition of "specializing" Judaism and Samaritanism vis-à-vis their ancient kindred, the chapter "de-specializes" by situating these latter traditions as species within the genus of Hellenistic Levantine cult.

How did Levantines living in Hellenistic Egypt identify their ancestral gods? This is the question the present chapter addresses. Each of the titular terms – interpretatio (§1), Levantines (§2), Hellenistic Egypt (§3) – requires some further explanation; and, too, along the way, the significance of the question at large. To what larger disciplinary conversations might the naming practices of Egyptian Levantines matter?

# 1 Interpretatio

First, then: interpretatio. What follows represents a preliminary and working definition only; inscriptional data, presented below, yield up a truer crucible for the inter-

Note: I presented an early draft of this paper at the Categories and Boundaries in Second Temple Jewish Literature Conference at the University of Birmingham (UK) in March 2021. James Aitken was my respondent, and I thank him and Matthew Novenson for their feedback on that occasion. I presented another version to the MF Norwegian School of Theology Religion and Society OT Hybrid Seminar in December 2021, and I thank Gard Granerød and Kristin Joachimsen for their hospitality and critique. I presented it for a third time to the Mapping Ancient Polytheisms workshop in October 2022; I owe Corinne Bonnet a debt of thanks for her invitation and criticism. I also thank John Ma for his assistance with I.Syrie 2220, and especially Thomas Galoppin for his bibliographic recommendations.

pretatio concept. Provisionally, though, interpretatio means "interpretation," and it refers to the "interpreting" of gods. It is a term of art used most often in classical scholarship, and hence with the Latin modifiers interpretatio Graeca and interpretatio Romana, the Greek and Roman interpretations, respectively. The latter phrase occurs but once in ancient literature, in a passage from the historian Tacitus's work Germania (43.4). He writes of the Naharvali, a Germanic tribe living in what is now Poland:

In the territory of the Naharvali one is shown a grove, hallowed from ancient times. The presiding priest dresses like a woman; according to the Roman interpretatio, they speak of the gods as Castor and Pollux. That is their vis [power, faculty], their name is Alci. There are no images, there is no trace of foreign cult, but they worship them as young men and as brothers.<sup>1</sup>

In this case, a Roman historian identifies two foreign gods as the two gods already familiar to himself and his Roman readership. The "interpretation" of gods arises out of a contact situation in which two (or more) ethnic groups meet. For Tacitus, knowledge of the Naharvali came from earlier ethnographic sources, perhaps also from his own interviews with traders and soldiers. In general, the mutual beholding that generates interpretatio, and which interpretatio in turn makes possible, happens through warfare, colonization, immigration, commerce, or travel. In such intercultural engagements, over against differences of nomenclature and mythology and practice, ancient people observed continuities of divine profile. Tacitus says that the "power manifested by the [Germanic] godhead" is the power of Roman gods Castor and Pollux.2 Or again: he notices that the Naharvali worshipped their gods in the form of "brothers and young men." The manifest power and the observable form of the foreign gods provided a fulcrum, so to speak: a foothold on an (ontological?) unity underlying the divergence of surface phenomena like divine names. The interpretatio is thus an act of discerning. It "sees through" and relativizes certain divine features in order to silhouette a divine world that multiple traditions share in common.3 Robert Parker notes the "bold disregard for apparent counterevidence [that interpretatio] often imposed." 4

The translation is taken from Bettini 2016, 17. I thank Thomas Galoppin for referring me to this chapter. See also Ando 2005 and Henri 2015, esp. 7–17.

See Bettini's comments on vis, power (2016, 20–21), as well as the experimental quality of this operation (ibid., 22–26).

This framing depends on the work of Parker 2017, esp. the chapter entitled "Interpretatio" (ibid., 33–76), which lofts the concept of "universal polytheism"; also on Matthew Novenson's application of this concept to the Judean god in his "The Universal Polytheism and the Case of the Jews" (Novenson 2020, 32–60); and on Becking, 2017a. Bettini, too, acknowledges some degree of "ontological" sameness: not that all gods reduce down to the same pantheon, but that "coming to know" gods is a complex and contextual process that involves recognition as well as fresh contact with previously unknown gods (2016, 31–33).

Parker 2017, 46.

This discernment of commonality was undertaken by various actors, and it served multifarious ends. Tacitus represents a learned and cosmopolitan perspective. But it should not be thought that recognizing one's own gods "underneath" the gods of other peoples was a scholarly exercise, or that it proceeded only from the imperial center. Rather, interpretatio was utterly commonplace: extant texts from the Mediterranean and Near Eastern worlds show that people identified equivalent gods from the Bronze Age onwards – and that it was done by any and all persons involved in intercultural contact, including ordinary wayfarers and subject peoples as well as elite historians and ethnographers.5 What this chapter examines are specific moments of interpretatio. If discerning divine identity across cultures was ancient and ambient, the texture of individual acts of discernment remains to be elucidated.

Some scholars have argued recently that individual acts are, in effect, the only datum historians can access. All gods are Augenblicksgötter, gods of the instant. Instead of imagining a stable, transcultural divine "essence" to which epithets attach and detach, or a perduring profile that the pantheons of various peoples adjust and repurpose, these writers urge that "it is the hic et nunc, the space and the time of an interaction that has left a useful trace for the historian." <sup>6</sup> Performance is the watchword: naming a god, invoking a god, belongs to a performative moment, when one or more human agents activate a set of linguistic and conceptual possibilities available to them – drawing on a chain of precedents, "reproducing this [god-]name as a reassuring echo," yet also answering to present site and circumstance, and hence "leading to the introduction of a variant or even an innovation." <sup>7</sup> The present chapter affirms this performative emphasis. Yet its approach also foregrounds some continuities, or: some links between occasions of divine naming. These links are formed from a shared reservoir of cultural reference and a shared bevy of incentives: viz., Egyptian Levantines looked back on their Iron Age kingdoms and looked up to the ruling Greeks. They held fast to their ancestral gods.

# 2 Levantines

This chapter focuses on interpretationes undertaken by Levantine peoples residing in Egypt during the Hellenistic period. These coordinates deserve some explication. The "Levant" names the eastern Mediterranean region of west Asia, including the modern-day countries of Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Israel, and Palestine. Starting in about 900 BCE, a number of small, territorial kingdoms emerged in this area. Perhaps in

See Smith 2008.

Galoppin/Bonnet 2021, 3.

Galoppin/Bonnet 2021, 3.

imitation of Neo-Assyrian victory stelae, the rulers of these "petty kingdoms" <sup>8</sup> began to write texts in vernacular Northwest Semitic languages: Mesha, for example, was king over the Transjordanian kingdom of Moab, and he commissioned an inscription thanking his god Chemosh for granting victory over the rival kingdom of Israel. King Zakkur of Hamath and Luash, areas in what is now Syria, did similarly to his god Baalshamem. Other Levantine kingdoms of the time were Ammon and Edom, also in the Transjordan, and Judah in the Cisjordan.

The languages featured in texts from these kingdoms were very closely related to one another, possibly even mutually intelligible.<sup>9</sup> At any rate, a dialect continuum obtained. If such a spectral model thus characterizes the speech of Levantine kingdoms, their cults were, on the other hand, isomorphic; their forms of worship did not shade from one into the next, but rather, each kingdom promoted a different national god, and, to varying degrees, popular devotion supported that singular, distinctive divine recipient of worship.<sup>10</sup> Wellhausen may go too far when he says that "Moab, Ammon, and Edom, Israel's nearest kinsfolk and neighbours, were monotheists in precisely the same sense in which Israel itself was." <sup>11</sup> But the more general truth, that each kingdom serviced a signature god, holds up. The Bible no doubt reduces the complexity of practice on the ground, but when it (for instance) castigates King Solomon for building high places to "Astarte of the Sidonians," "Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites," and "Chemosh the abomination of the Moabites" (1 Kgs 11:5–7), its concatenation does reflect an equation of one god, one king, one land that these states actually cultivated. Bruce Routledge speaks in this connection of a "centralizing triad." 12

Imperial domination placed these Levantine triads under duress. In the eighth century BCE, the Neo-Assyrian Empire exacted tribute from these kingdoms on their western periphery. Eventually the Assyrians destroyed fractious kingdoms altogether: Sargon II captured Samaria, the capital of the kingdom of Israel, in 738 BCE, and Esarhaddon sacked Sidon in 677. The Neo-Babylonian Empire of the late seventh and early sixth centuries BCE continued this trend of taking direct control over Levantine states. Nebuchadnezzar destroyed Jerusalem (587 BCE); Nabonidus ended the independent Edomite kingdom (551 BCE). When the Persian Empire in turn supplanted the Babylonians, a few identifiable Levantine polities still existed, but in the form of provinces. Judah belonged to the Persian province of "Beyond-the-River." Ammon evidently enjoyed provincial sta-

Julius Wellhausen refers often to "the petty kingdoms" of Palestine and Syria (e.g., Wellhausen 1891, 86). Parker 2002; Garr 2004, 231; Jackson 1983, 108–109.

Sanders 2014.

Wellhausen 1957, 440.

Routledge 2004, 151. See also Snyder 2010. The "centralizing triad" applies to the upland kingdoms of the Cis‑ and Transjordan; the coastal "Phoenician" cities characteristically promoted not a singular god but a triad of gods.

tus under the Persians.13 Herodotus describes Persian tax districts and enumerates Phoenicia and a part of Syria called Palestine as one such district (3.91).

The triad dropped to a dyad, or nearly so. There is some record of hyparchies during the Ptolemaic period: Idumea, Judea, Samaria, Galilaia, Coele-Syria.<sup>14</sup> But native kings, one node of the triad, no longer ruled these lands. Even in the absence of kingship per se, the dyadic link between Levantine peoples and their erstwhile national gods endured. Indeed the name of each ancestral god provides some index for historians seeking to locate these ethnē in the Persian and Hellenistic eras. Families continued to thank Chemosh: thus the name kmšplṭ, "Chemosh has saved," marks out a Moabite working for the Persian military in Saqqara (Egypt).15 Or again, families continued to pray a blessing from the Edomite god Qos, as early Hellenistic theophoric names from Tel Beersheba demonstrate.16 As Dorothy Thompson (formerly Crawford) writes, "Of all defining ethnic features, religion is perhaps the strongest, and in religion we begin to approach the larger community." 17

The cults of Levantine gods endured without native kings. But it seems they also endured away from native lands – another node of the triad. Expatriate Levantine communities appear from the moment empires exerted stronger control over the eastern Mediterranean. The deportation of Israelites and Judeans to Babylon is notorious. Other Levantines also took up residence there and elsewhere in Mesopotamia. When the Persians conquered Egypt, they staffed their fortress at Elephantine on the southern border with personnel drawn from across the whole empire, but especially with Judeans and Arameans. Both the Judean soldiers and the Arameans maintained Egyptian temple sites to their traditional gods: a temple for the Judean god Yaho on the Nile island of Elephantine, and temples for the Aramean gods Banit, Bethel, and the Queen of Heaven on the river town of Syene (and not to mention a temple for Nabu). Papyrus Amherst 63, an Aramaic text written in Demotic script in the fourth century BCE, collects the hymns and prayers of refugees from the Aramean city of Rash. They, too, were acting as soldiers for the Persian rulership in Egypt. Herodotus refers to a region near Memphis called "camp of the Tyrians" (2.112); Phoenicians, whether from Tyre or another city, likely operated as traders.<sup>18</sup>

Before proceeding further – from Levantines at large (§2) to Levantines of Hellenistic Egypt (§3) – a note about the significance of this framing. Both the ancient Israelite and Judean kingdoms shared the same god, Yhwh. After the downfall of these


Herr 1999.

On which, see the still helpful Hengel, "Administration and Taxation in Palestine under Hellenistic Rule" (1974, 18–32).

Aimé-Giron 1931, 30.

Danielson 2020.

states, the inheritors of these kingdoms' cult not only survived but eventually went on to become "world religions": Judaism and Christianity (also Samaritanism). This legacy has had the historiographical effect of retrospectively separating out this cult from its next-door Levantine neighbors. If the later career of this god Yhwh proved so consequential, something special must have been visible from the earliest strata of this cult, or so many histories and historians would have it.

The same line of thinking applies in the matter of interpretatio. As Matthew Novenson writes, "the secondary literature is rife with claims that ancient Jews stood apart from the prevailing Graeco-Roman practice of interpretatio." <sup>19</sup> Difference and specialness, it has been thought, characterize the divine naming of Jews/Judeans, also Samaritans. They alone from out of their Levantine kindred resisted the otherwise ubiquitous ancient Mediterranean instinct to discern one's own god beneath other peoples' gods. In Jan Assmann's formulation: "Whereas polytheism, or rather 'cosmotheism,' rendered different cultures mutually transparent and compatible, the new [Mosaic, Jewish] counter-religion blocked intercultural translatability." 20

Nothing is objectionable, in principle, with trying to isolate the factors in Israelite religion or early Judaism that contributed to the later world-historical shape of these traditions. But a practical danger does intrude: of emboldening difference too easily and too soon; of "specializing" the cult of the god Yhwh so that it stands apart from its congeners. This is the possibility that the framing of the present chapter forfends: by emphasizing the common classification of "Levantines," it contextualizes Judeans and Samaritans back alongside their neighbors. It underlines commonality. It "de-specializes." Of course, this procedure risks historical error in the opposite direction, homogenizing what is distinctive to each specific, ancient cult and community. What commends it to the present project is, however, its capacity to draw out lines of parallel development – and perhaps even to fill in gaps left exactly by dislocating Judaism from its neighbors.

### 3 Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt

Some Levantine communities in Achaemenid Egypt probably persisted after the Greek takeover. An Aramaic tax receipt from Elephantine dates to 252 BCE and earmarks two Judeans, Simeon and Joseph, as tax-collector and tax-payer. It "stands" (in Crawford's words) "as testimony to the continued strength of the Semitic community [there]." <sup>21</sup> But many more Levantines arrived to Egypt under the Ptolemies. The Letter of Aristeas says as much, noting that Judeans had "entered the country [of Egypt] with

Novenson 2020, 33.

Assman 1997, 3.

Thompson 2011a, 101.

the Persian, and before them other confederate troops [fought] with Psammetichus against the king of the Ethiopians, but they were not so many in number as those brought over by Ptolemy the son of Lagos" (Let. Aris., 13). Besides the 100,000 captive Judeans that Ptolemy Soter purportedly brought to Egypt from Judea, the Letter also claims that he transported prisoners of war from his conquests of Phoenicia and Coele-Syria.

Inscriptions amply attest to the fact that the Ptolemies imported large mercenary armies, and, as part of those forces, Levantines. Marcel Launey's magisterial work on Hellenistic armies enumerates five Syrian villages (syrōn kōmai) in the Ptolemaic era running from Alexandria down to Middle Egypt.22 The Idumeans of Memphis – inheritors of the Edomite god and kingdom – maintained a unit of saber–bearers (machairophoroi).23 Judeans also acted as soldiers for the Ptolemies, as well as policemen, tax collectors, and administrators.24 In terms of ethnonyms, Láda's study records Judeans (Ioudaioi) and Samareus/Samaritēs, even one Hebraikos; also Idoumaioi, Mōabitai, Syroi, Tyrioi, and Sidōnioi. <sup>25</sup> No ethnonym identifying Ammonites is extant from Hellenistic Egypt. But a letter from the Zenon archive (PSI IV 406) of 260–258 BCE refers in its line 13 to purchasing a slave girl from the Ammonites (ex Ammōnōn), so the ethnonym was meaningful in the Hellenistic period.

The larger point about Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt is this: they aligned with the Greek occupiers over against the native Egyptians. This lends interest to their practice of interpretatio for several reasons. First, it means that their recognizing of gods across cultural difference faced in at least three possible directions: sociopolitically downwards toward the gods of the native Egyptians; upwards toward the rulers' pantheon(s); or laterally toward the cults of fellow hirelings from other transplanted ethnic groups. All this amounts to a rich matrix for theological discernment, and it promises to complicate existing accounts of interpretatio. It is a contact situation, as per §1 above, occasioned by warfare and colonization, and, more precisely, by long-term occupation. But it includes at least three distinct, yet overlapping and hybridizing, politically asymmetrical cultures.

Second, the alignment of Levantines with the Greeks resulted in their use of the Greek language. Levantines spoke Greek, and because of that, they "counted" as Greeks, administratively and for tax purposes. Joseph Mélèze-Modrzejewski writes: "the qualification of 'Hellene' was extended to the peoples of Asiatic and Semitic origin from the countries conquered by Alexander, as long as they could speak Greek

Launey 1949–1950, 1.536–541, here 539. See also Winnicki 2009, 145–180.

Line 5 of the Dorion inscription (OGIS 737). I consulted Milne 1905, 19–20 (no. 33027).

On the occupations of Judeans in Hellenistic Egypt, see Collins 2000, 66.

Láda 2002: Judeans (Ioudaioi) and Samareus/Samaritēs: E2388/2389; Hebraikos: E377; Idoumaioi: E862; Mōabitai: E1900; Syroi: Láda 2002, 292; Tyrioi: ibid., 298; Sidōnioi: ibid., 284. On Samaritans in Hellenistic Egypt, see Pummer 1998, esp. 216–217.

and were willing servants of the royal dynasty." <sup>26</sup> Levantines may well have continued to speak the Northwest Semitic languages of their countries of origin at home or in worship. A papyrus from second–century CE Hermopolis (P.Giss. 99.9–13) mentions "hymns of a foreign tongue" (humnoi glōttē xenikē, l. 9) and sacrifices of sheep and goats, animals verboten to native Egyptian practice. Thompson reasonably connects this text with the Hermopolitan Idumean settlement known from other documents. At such a late date, she speculates that Idumean might have become a "fossil language," a liturgical artefact rather than a living, community language.<sup>27</sup> Other witnesses to the continued use of Levantine languages might include the Nash Papyrus; an unprovenanced Hebrew text of the Decalogue and the Shema, it dates to the second century BCE and may have come from the Fayyum. Along the same line, the Septuagint and "Samareitikon" translations paradoxically confirm expert knowledge of Hebrew in Hellenistic Egypt.<sup>28</sup> The genesis of these projects lies beyond the ambit of this chapter to explain, but suffice it to say: both the Judean and Samaritan communities of Lower Egypt translated writings about their ancestral god into Greek. The Letter of Aristeas points to a top-down, royal bibliographical initiative, but more bottom-up momentum likely lies behind them. They reclaim and rework indigenous traditions within the prestige language of Greek. Native Egyptians also pursued translation, as, for example, the Dream of Nectanebo, and for similar reasons.

Egyptian Levantines' use of Greek frames their practices of interpretatio. Whatever divine sameness they discerned across divergent nomenclatures came to expression in Greek. Therefore, even in cases where they maintained the traditional name of their god(s), this happened at a one-step remove, as it were. Levantines transliterated their god's (Semitic) name, as they did with their own Semitic names: among Judeans (or Samaritans), Abraham became Abramis, Yoseph became Iosepos, Yaakov became Iakoubis or Iakoubos.29 Among Idumeans, Qosnatan (meaning "Qos has given") became Kosnatanos, Qws malak ("Qos reigns / is king") became Kosmalachos.30 The textual effect is to leave a Semitic element like a little island within a sea of Greek words and references. The conceptual effect is more complicated to gauge. Transliteration is not yet interpretatio proper and eo ipso. But it does comprise an act of discerning the god's person and presence from within an alien cultural and linguistic context. It is a further reduction away from the "centralizing triads" of the Iron Age: without their native king, away from their native land, and now within a non-native language, the cult of Levantine gods persisted. Transliteration appears to be a precursor to interpretatio, if not an incipient form of it. The section following (§4) first notes cases of transliteration – as preinterpretatio.

Mélèze-Modrzejewski 1995, 81.

Thompson 2011b, 405.

On the Samareitikon: Pummer 1995.

Mélèze–Modrzejewski 1995, 80.

Wuthnow 1930, 65.

One final aspect of Levantine alignment with Greek rule that bears on their practice of interpretatio is: the emergence of an elite literary culture. Because Levantines ranked as Hellenes, the possibility of ascending into the upper echelons of Ptolemaic Egyptian society lay open before them; and they seized hold of it. One Levantine who attained high office was Dositheos son of Drimylos. Under Ptolemy III (Euergetes 1), this man, a Judean, became, first, the hypomnematographos, "Grand Archivist to the King"; and later, priest of the Alexander cult, dedicated to the deified Ptolemaic king. In consequence of his position, 3 Maccabees remembers him as "a Jew by birth, but he had changed his mind about their customs and had turned away from the teachings of his ancestors" (1:3 CEB).<sup>31</sup> But Dositheos was not an isolated case: 3 Maccabees reports that Ptolemy IV Philopator decreed that Judeans could access equal political rights with Alexandrians only by initiation into the Dionysian mysteries (2:30), and that many Judeans were happy to do so (v. 31). Noah Hacham argues that such Judeans likely discerned their own god (Yhwh/Iaō) as the god Dionysos.<sup>32</sup>

Participation in the higher strata of Ptolemaic society coincided for some Levantines with a serious Greek education. The main evidence of this training is the long, literary texts that Judeans and Samaritans in particular left behind, above all, the Septuagint translation.<sup>33</sup> Other Greek-language works include Joseph and Asenath as well as the so-called fragmentary Hellenistic Jewish historians: Demetrius, Aristobulus, the Letter of Aristeas, Artapanus, Ezekiel the Tragedian, and some of the earliest parts of the Third Sibylline Oracle.<sup>34</sup> Such educated, Greek texts present evidence of a very different kind from (nonliterary) dedicatory inscriptions or papyrus letters: interpretatio in the former is the product of an educated, self-reflexive elite, whereas the latter mediate something closer to "religion on the ground" – especially with regard to theophoric names. It may be that the kinds of epithets these documents employ differ from one another, too: although earlier Greek distinctions between cult epithets and poetic epithets faltered in the Hellenistic era, still discrepancies of audience, register, and purpose must be taken closely into account.<sup>35</sup>

The circulation of learned Greek texts by Judeans and Samaritans raises the question about other Levantines. Did they, too, rise high in the Ptolemaic ranks and send their sons to Greek gymnasia? Did they, as Carl Holladay claims of Demetrius the Chronographer, participate in Alexandrian intellectual life to the extent of having access to the Museum, including its archives and discussions?<sup>36</sup> There is no evidence

Fuks 1954.

Hacham 2005, 182.

James Aitken: "biblical scholars or even scholars of Hellenistic Judaism have tended to neglect the Septuagint [as an evidence of Hellenistic Judaism and "translatability"]" (Aitken 2021, 187).

This list enumerates those works that Carl Holladay says "can be confidently placed in an Egyptian provenance prior to the end of the second century BCE" (Holladay 2021, 36).

On cult epithets, see Parker 2017, 33–76.

Holladay 2021, 42.

that Idumeans or Moabites or Syrians or Phoenicians living in Ptolemaic Egypt contributed prominent intellectuals who re-cast their traditions in Hellenistic mold – although the example of Philo of Byblos, albeit from a later century and the Byblian homeland, should caution against dismissing the possibility (cf. also Hermippos of Beirut and Paul of Tyre); and so, too, the so-called Costobar Affair, which tells of an Idumean governor, Costobar, who conspired with Cleopatra.<sup>37</sup> Adam Kolman Marshak hypothesizes that Costobar "may have relied on the Idumean military colonists at Memphis to act as intermediaries between him and Cleopatra." <sup>38</sup> Such intermediaries must have ranked highly.

The practice of interpretatio among Hellenistic Levantines is interesting, in sum, because it occurred in a complex contact situation, aligned with the ruling Greek class and even, certainly among Judeans and Samaritans but possibly among other Levantines, participating in Greek learning; juxtaposed over against the native Egyptians; and nested alongside other expatriate populations, including other Levantines. Procedurally, all this means that the following section (§4) begins with transliteration: Levantines wrote out the name of their god in otherwise wholly Greek texts. This can be seen particularly from the inscriptional record. In its §5 the chapter tracks out interpretationes proper. Especially the inculcation of some Levantines into elite Hellenistic literary culture entails, too, that §6 of the chapter refers in closing to divine naming practices in longer and literary documents.

# 4 Case Studies of Transliteration

While writing in Greek, Hellenistic Levantines continued to spell out the name of their ancestral god; they transliterated. This is most obvious in theophoric names. A few examples from the Levantine homeland segue to instances from Ptolemaic Egypt.

– In the late nineteenth century, the Anglo-French epigrapher William Henry Waddington hand-copied over a thousand inscriptions he found "imbedded in tombs, bridges, temples, arches, theaters, churches, houses, courtyards" and other buildings throughout southern Syria.<sup>39</sup> One of these – no. 2220 – came from a cobblestone in the village of Nela in the Hawran (modern-day Al-Mushannaf). It once belonged to a kamara or vaulted chamber, dedicated to the memory of several individuals, including one with an apparently Moabite name. Kamoselos likely transliterates kamôš 'ēl, "Chemosh is God." <sup>40</sup> If so, this would be the latest direct

For more on which, see Cornell 2020.

Marshak 2012, 125 n. 26.

Macadam 1983, 103.

Wuthnow 1930, 62; Le Bas 1847, no. 2220. This reading is likelier given Waddington's remark that the text substitutes omicron for omega (Kamos thus representing Kamōs).

attestation (first century CE) of a persisting devotion to Kemosh.<sup>41</sup> The name can be compared to the Judean/Samaritan names Joel, Yahoel, or Elijah (Greek Elias), all of which mean "Yhw is God."

– The name Kamasanos occurs in two Roman-period inscriptions. The first is a votive inscription recovered from a wall, the second is a building dedication whose stone surface had been reused in a mosque; both were found in Kerak in Transjordan – an important Moabite city during the Iron Age, as indicated by the Kerak fragment.<sup>42</sup> The Greek text of the first reads: "Annalos, (son) of Kamasanos, made (this) for Zeus Marna, the Lord [Dii Marnai tōi kyriōi]." <sup>43</sup> In Edward Lipiński's judgment, Annalos transliterates the name of a god worshipped in Gaza (Ḥn'l = "God is gracious"), and he then understands the patronymic Kamasanos as deriving from the root √kmš, to grasp, plus the suffix ‑ān. However, it is also possible to see Kamasanos as a specification of the same god whom the son's name identifies as gracious: "Kemosh is ḥn" fathered "God is ḥn". The findspot increases the likelihood of this interpretation. These names bear comparison with the Judean/Samaritan name Hananiah (Greek: Ananias) = "Yhw is ḥn".

The bond between one group of Levantines, still resident in their traditional territory, and their ancestral god Kemosh endured into a Greek-speaking age. In one instance, Moabite people may have discerned a divine identity between this, their proprietary god, and the god Zeus, or more accurately, a particular manifestation of Zeus. Much the same obtained in Hellenistic Egypt, as the example of Idumeans demonstrates.


These are later examples than those discussed in my own earlier article (Cornell 2016).

More on which, see Wetzstein 1863, no. 186.

Wetzstein 1863, no. 183; translation from Lipiński 2013, 924. See also now DB MAP S#2355 / T#3134.

BGU VI 1216. See Shelton 1975, 268. Wilhelm Spiegelberg calls the document a "Steuerauseinandersetzung zwischen dem Tempelland (hiera gē) von Aphroditopolis und dem Fiskus (to basilikon)" (1924, 184).

Thompson Crawford 1984, 3, 1069–1075; on Dorion, see 3, 1070. I looked at Milne 1905, 35–37 (no. 9283).

On the meaning of koinon, see Kruse 2015.

On these names, see Sala 1974, 23–25. Cf. also Abdokōs on ibid., 3.

from the name Apollo.<sup>48</sup> In fact, as Winnicki observes, "Persons featured on this list are usually called by Greek names [with Apollo], while the names of the fathers are Semitic [with transliterated Qos]." <sup>49</sup> Such a configuration suggests a rapid "Hellenization." 50

Both these Idumean texts are full of distinctively Hellenistic institutions. The land-list is rife with Ptolemaic organizational terminology. The koinon and ktistai of the dedication are Greek concepts and categories. Some of the god-names are distinctive to the Greek orbit. Evidently the second generation of Idumeans recognized that the god Apollo – or a specific, Egyptian manifestation of Apollo? – coincided, ontologically, with their ancestral god Qos. But if that is so, the dual divine recipients of the dedication, Apollo and Zeus, are more intriguing. Did the Idumeans, perhaps like their Hellenized Levantine kindred, the Moabites listed above, see Zeus as another epithet coequally evoking the same divine being whom they had for generations served as Qos? Or did Zeus in the opening line of the stele envision a god with his own integrity, over against Apollo-nee-Qos? At any rate, the name of the Idumean god is the most conservative component in these documents, standing out in bold relief from their otherwise Greek language and conceptuality.51

Judeans living in Hellenistic Egypt similarly transliterated the name of their ancestral god. I lift up two data.

– First, a papyrus from Oxyrhynchus (no. 2745).52 It is an onomasticon, an explanation of biblical Hebrew names. Originally it included six columns of names, each paired with an etymological gloss in a column to the right of them. Only one explanatory column now remains, matching with nineteen transliterated names on the left margin. These run vertically from Iabeis to Iōcabee. What is noteworthy is that eight of the explanations in the middle column spell out the divine name Iaō.

Paleographically, the papyrus dates to the third or fourth century CE. Its line 5 also contains a sacred abbreviation (or nomen sacrum), which suggests that a Christian scribe wrote it.<sup>53</sup> It therefore stands a long way off from Judeans in Hellenistic Egypt. But by triangulating it with Philo, David Rokeah argues that the text of "the Ox[yrhynchus] fragment . . . goes back to the Hellenistic period" and

See the analysis of Zucker 1938; also Thompson Crawford 1984, 3, 1072.

Winnicki 2009, 300.

Thompson Crawford 1984; also Winnicki 2009, 299–301.

Again Thompson: "Of all defining ethnic features, religion is perhaps the strongest, and in religion we begin to approach the larger community" (2011a, 106).

Rokeah 1968a. I thank Joshua Alfaro for referring me to this work.

Hēmerai autou thu, explaining the transliterated name Iemouēl. The theta upsilon is apparently an error for the usual theta sigma abbreviating theos.

indeed to the third or early second century BCE.<sup>54</sup> There is also the evidence of Christian Bible manuscripts of the Common Era, which show kurios in place of the tetragrammaton in Hebrew texts. To quote Frank Shaw: "if we do not see the regular [Iaō] readings in [this onomasticon] as indicating an early pre–Christian Jewish origin . . . then we are in the unenviable position of having to explain where they came from." 55

– The second evidence that Judeans in Hellenistic Egypt transliterated the name of their god is a fragment from Qumran Cave 4 (4Q120). This papyrus piece dates to the first century BCE and features some lines from Greek Leviticus (3:12–13 and 4:27). It, too, spells out the divine name Iaō. The findspot in the Judean desert complicates the use of the fragment as an index to Egyptian Jewish practice. But, given the probability that Leviticus was first translated into Greek in Egypt, the fragment is suggestive. Anthony Meyer conjectures that the papyrus itself might have come from Egypt, since the Qumran community didn't use Greek.<sup>56</sup>

In sum: it seems safe to infer that at least some Egyptian Judeans wrote (and probably said) Iaō. <sup>57</sup> Relative to the later history of Judaism, when a prohibition on writing or pronouncing the divine name prevailed, Hellenistic-era transliteration of Yhw stands out. But considered alongside other Levantines of Ptolemaic Egypt – "de-specialized" and resituated back among its Levantine neighbors – this practice appears unexceptional. In fact, it might be taken as a sign of similar, longitudinal devotion. In the face of a centuries-long decomposition of their founding "triad" (god, king, and land), transplanted to a foreign land and speaking a foreign tongue, Levantines, including Judeans, referred to the particular, irreplaceable name of the ancestral god. Such transliteration came with its own set of hermeneutical challenges.

As noted in a previous section (§3), transliterating is not yet interpretatio in and of itself. It is not an act of discerning one's own familiar god under the surface phenomena of another people's. And yet it is a significant step towards that discernment: keeping the phonetic shape of the ancestral god intact is, on the one hand, conservative. The known and identifiable name of the god remains. But on the other hand, the specific cascade of sounds comprising the god's name now perches within a wholly different cultural and linguistic landscape. That transposition opens the god up to a vastly different network of conceptual connections and practical habits. Discerning sameness became a much more fraught and complicated enterprise.

Rokeah 1968b, 81.

Shaw 2014, 36.

Meyer 2017, 238, now revised as Meyer 2022.

Also, for as much as the Letter of Aristeas configures the translation of Hebrew scriptures into Greek as a project of the Ptolemaic state library, it is far likelier that these efforts arose from community–internal initiative. Egyptian Jews transliterated the name of their ancestral god because Iaō was the traditional form of his name; that's what they knew him by.

# 5 Case Studies of interpretatio Proper

I proceed here to interpretatio proper. Besides transliteration, Egyptian Levantines could also refer to their ancestral god by a Greek god-name. This is an important point. It was not as if (for instance) the Memphite Idumean Association of Founders moved from the veneration of Qos in one generation to the veneration of another god, Apollo, in the second generation. No substitution or conversion from one cult to another is in view. Rather, we might imagine that the hymns and prayers made in the Idumean temple stayed rather constant; think again of the Hermopolis papyrus from the second century CE with its reference to "hymns of a foreign tongue" (humnoi glōttē xenikē). Idumeans continued to approach their ancestral god in praise and petition. But their attachment to that god's traditional name somehow loosened, at least in some contexts (perhaps they invoked Qos ritually while in decrees or public-facing documents they used Greek appellations). Such loosening may have resulted from their alignment with the ruling Greek class. As their exposure to Greek culture and Greek language increased, the prestige of Greek god-names impressed them. Or as they observed the practice, ritual or otherwise, of Greeks, it seemed beneficial to emulate them. Perhaps the use of Greek names arose from long-term living alongside other Levantines: if it was the long-standing custom of other groups to call on their traditional gods by the names Zeus or Apollo – and this seems to have been the case – then that precedent may have encouraged adoption by more recent arrivals to Egypt. Finally, too, the native Egyptians exerted some influence on interpretatio by Hellenistic Levantines. Egyptian cult and Egyptian god-names mattered to these expatriate soldiers and servants of the Ptolemaic dynasty.

I have already mentioned one Idumean stele from Memphis listing numerous personal names with the element Apollo. Another and more complicated witness to such discernment of divine sameness across different nomenclature is an honorific decree (or psēphisma) dating to the late second century (111/112 BCE).58 Its introductory line specifies the occasion of its production: a sunagōgē or gathering of the politeuma and of the Idumeans in the Apollōnieiōn, or upper temple of Apollo. The Idumean association commends a benefactor who was a (fictive) kinsman of the Ptolemies, a governor (stratēgos) and military officer, and a priest. His name was Dorion, and the inscription recognizes his devotion: he was eusebōs te diakeimenos pros to theion, "piously disposed toward the god," as shown by his funding of temple renovations. In consequence of his largesse, the Idumean priests and temple-singers promised to "remember [this benefactor] in the hymns" and to crown him at banquets.

Milne 1905, no. 33027. See also the English translation by Harland 2015.

Dorion's identity deserves further comment. Besides the psēphisma, he is known from hieroglyphic blocks within the Memphite necropolis.59 These funerary texts show that Dorion was, like his father before him, a priest of the Egyptian god Horus-Khenty-Khety as well as of "Osiris who lives in Athribis." His mother was a priestess of Horus in Athribis. Dorion's lineage was thus, in part or in whole, Egyptian. Possibly his support of the Idumean temple arose solely from his military role as stratēgos or unit commander. But the fact that the standardized interpretatio Graeca of the Egyptian god Horus was Apollo lends another dimension to his benefaction.60 It could be that he saw an overlap between his duties to Horus and his chaplaincy of the Apollōnieiōn.

If so, this would represent an intriguing moment of three-way interpretatio: Idumeans worshipped their ancestral god but, in deference to Greek usage, or out of their own complex and deepening Hellenization, they called him Apollo. Notably, they did this even inside of their own temple, so it is not as if the mention of Apollo is solely "for public consumption" while reserving the traditional name Qos for their own internal dealings. At the same time, an Egyptian priest, Dorion, dedicated to Horus, may have discerned his own ancestral god underneath the profile of Apollo. Dorion recognized Horus as Apollo, even as Idumeans recognized Qos as Apollo, and the two interpretationes met in the middle.

Further testimony to the multi-directional discernment of gods among Idumeans in Hellenistic Egypt can be found in two theophoric names. Wuthnow lists out Kososiris and Kosrēs: "Qos-Osiris" and "Qos-Rē," respectively, one from the second century BCE and the second from the fifth century CE (!).<sup>61</sup> These names demonstrate the flexibility of interpretatio: even where Qos remained as a fixed pole, the Egyptian god with whom he was equated shifts, likely depending on the particular manifestations in question.62 Perhaps the cult of Qos as maintained in the Memphite Apollōnieiōn already had qualities that brought him into closer proximity to Apollo, or he acquired such qualities through longstanding invocation as Apollo. But then in a later setting and under the influence of a quite different theological environment, other gods converged with Qos: maybe the supreme Greek god Zeus, or the solar god of Egypt, Ra/Rē. The latter would yield cases of special interest, since otherwise, Judeans and Samaritans have a monopoly on equations between their ancestral god and supreme gods of other pantheons.

Judeans and Samaritans living in Hellenistic Egypt also equated their god with Greek deities.63 Instances from long and literary texts are well-known, as, for example, in the Letter of Aristeas. Its line 15 concatenates the Judean god, whom it calls theos,

Cairo 22179 and 22137 = Vernus 1978, 214–218, nos. 177–178; cited in Crawford 1984, 1070 n. 7; also Thompson 1988, 102 n. 109.

Henri 2012, 342.

Wuthnow 1930, 62.

von Lieven 2016. I thank Thomas Galoppin for the reference.

The best recent work on interpretatio Judaica is Novenson 2020.

with "Zeus" or "Dis." As Matthew Novenson summarizes: "According to this tidy interpretatio, the god who gave the law to Moses is the god whom the Greeks worship as Zeus: the ruler and lord of the universe." <sup>64</sup> Aristobulus of Alexandria attests the same identification.65 But other, more multidirectional parallels obtain. They concern neither the Greek gods Apollo or Zeus, nor (directly) the Egyptian gods Osiris and Ra, but rather, Dionysos, the wine god. Several literary texts by non-Jewish Greek-speakers (Plutarch, Tacitus, and Valerius Maximus) attest the equation of the ancestral Judean/Samaritan god with Dionysos.66 3 Maccabees provides further evidence, but written by a Judean.67 Whether by threat or ridicule, the book intends to interrupt the discernment of some Egyptian Judeans that Dionysos and Yhwh coincide.

Data from another direction complicate this equation. As Alexandra von Lieven writes, "one of the best known examples of interpretatio graeca is the equation of Osiris with Dionysos." <sup>68</sup> That is to say: enticement, or pressure, from native Egyptian precedent may have stimulated Judeans of Hellenistic Egypt to discern a divine identity shared between Dionysos and their ancestral god. Such precedent was longstanding: Herodotus writes: "no gods are worshipped by all Egyptians in common except Isis and Osiris, who they say is Dionysos" (2.42); or again: "Osiris is, in the Greek language, Dionysos" (2.144). What this meant for Judeans (and Samaritans) was that, whenever they arrived in Egypt, the god Dionysos was already pluriform: already relativized with regard to the set of traits and stories that Greeks brought with them; already worshipped throughout the land in ancient, ancestral Egyptian temples. This scenario must have prompted and incentivized their own equation. The Greeks to whom Judeans looked up, socially, worshipped Dionysos; the Egyptians to whom they looked down worshipped their own god as Dionysos.69

### 6 Conclusions

The present chapter offered a working definition of interpretatio: as an act of discernment – of spotting and recognizing one's own god over against the differing name and presentation given by another culture (§1). It then introduced Levantines (§2) and Levantines of Hellenistic Egypt (§3) and provided case studies, both of proto-interpretatio, transliterating the ancestral god's name (§4), and of interpretatio proper (§5), when Le-

Novenson 2020, 41.

Apud Eusebius, PE 13.13.6–8; OTP 2.841.

Shaw 2014, 100.

Hacham 2005.

von Lieven, "Translating Gods, Interpreting Gods," 67.

Padovani 2018, 108–146. I thank Corinne Bonnet for this reference.

vantines "saw" the known, ancestral god under the name and operation of Greek gods such as Apollo or Dionysos.

To the preliminary definition, the examples lend complexity and contour. They highlight, first, the conservative character of interpretatio. This is especially clear with regard to transliteration, when references to the god's name endure though its worshippers have lost the kingdoms the god formerly patronized; have taken up longterm life in the foreign land of Egypt; and have adopted, perhaps to varying degrees, the Greek language. But interpretationes proper also evidence this conserving dynamic. Glimpsing one's own god at shrines where that god was not previously venerated is a bold hermeneutical claim, made in the face of "apparent counterevidence." 70 But it is done in service of holding onto the knowledge of the ancestral god bequeathed by the traditional cult. In Maurizio Bettini's words: "one recognizes the foreign god by reference to what is already known." 71

The case studies also embolden the conditions for interpretatio specific to Levantines in Hellenistic Egypt: (at least) three politically asymmetrical cultures. Levantines served the ruling Greeks, indeed counted administratively as Hellenes. Some accessed Greek education. They also lived in close quarters with native Egyptians, some of whom were pursuing Hellenization. This situation meant that Levantines – whose pantheons were relatively modest, often centered on a single national god (cf. Wellhausen's overstatement)<sup>72</sup> – interacted with two other more expansive pantheons, Greek and Egyptian; or rather, two pantheons whose divine members were already undergoing cross-identification. Prestige and precedent surely invited the individual acts of interpretatio that extant artefacts preserve.

Lastly, the present chapter minded the distinctive career of early Judaism and Samaritanism subsequent to the antique period. It proposed to "de-specialize" the antecedents of these later religious traditions by treating them as species within a larger genus of Hellenistic Levantine cult.<sup>73</sup> This approach was productive. It showcased the factors that generated parallel acts of discernment among Egyptian Levantines: the shared backdrop of "centralizing triads" now sundered, the incentive of advancement in Greek society, and indefatigable devotion to the ancestral god. As such, the chapter may even help to fill some explanatory gaps concerning the literature produced by Hellenistic Egyptian Jews and Samaritans. The historical question of why the Septuagint and Samareitikon emerged, or why the so-called fragmentary historians wrote as

Parker 2017, 46.

Bettini, 2016, 33; his italics.

Wellhausen: "Moab, Ammon, and Edom, Israel's nearest kinsfolk and neighbours, were monothe-

ists in precisely the same sense in which Israel itself was" (1957, 440). Cf. again Snyder 2010.

On which, see also Cornell 2020, 110–115.

they did, remain contested. The present chapter supplies several clues: not, principally, in terms of apologizing to the gentile world, justifying inherited mores according to Ptolemaic standards of excellence,74 nor in terms of internecine entertainment and artistry,<sup>75</sup> but rather of recuperating past glory – of god if not of land and king – in a transformed and transplanted present.

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Mairs, Rachel (2013) "Intersecting Identities in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt", in: Rachael J. Dann / Karen Exell (eds.), Egypt: Ancient Histories, Modern Archaeologies, Amherst, NY, 163–189.

Marshak, Adam Kolman (2012), "Rise of the Idumeans: Ethnicity and Politics in Herod's Judea", in: Benedikt Eckhardt (ed.), Jewish Identity and Politics between the Maccabees and Bar Kokhba: Groups, Normativity, and Rules (JSJSup 155), Leiden, 117–130.

Mélèze-Modrzejewski, Joseph (1995), The Jews of Egypt: From Ramses II to Emperor Hadrian, trans. Robert Cornman, Princeton.


Wellhausen, Julius (1891), Sketch of the History of Israel and Judah, 3rd edition, London.


# Anna Angelini Divine Names, Heavenly Bodies, and Human Visions: The Septuagint and the Transformation of Ancient Israelite Religion

Abstract: One of the major changes with regard to the transition of ancient Israelite religion into Early Judaism is the transformation of Yhwh from being the patron god of Israel, enthroned in Jerusalem, to being a universal (and invisible) deity residing in heaven. The first part of this paper surveys how the study of divine onomastic attributes has been approached by Septuagint scholarship, highlighting how this corpus crucially attests to a reconfiguration of Yhwh's power and status, but also pointing out some methodological shortcomings which emerged in past research. The second part of the paper seeks to provide a new framework for the study of divine onomastic attributes in the Septuagint. Paying attention to the relationship between divine name and embodiment, it correlates the deterritorialisation process of Yhwh, as attested by the onomastic attributes, with broader issues concerning the conditions, forms and limits of experiencing the divine presence in cultic contexts.

# 1 From a National Deity to the Universal God: Old and New Questions

One of the major changes featuring the transition of ancient Israelite religion into early Judaism is the transformation of Yhwh from being the patron god of Israel, enthroned in Jerusalem, into a universal deity residing in heaven.<sup>1</sup> By this process, Yhwh became a supranational god, who, while keeping a special relationship with Israel, was no longer associated with the land of Israel in an exclusive way. Moreover, such a representation of Yhwh contributes to his characterization as a transcendent deity, external to the world and superior to it. This process constitutes a major point

This study is a result of research supported by the Charles University through the program PRIMUS/ 20/HUM/010 "Textuality in the Second Temple Judaism: Composition, Function, and Transmission of Texts." An earlier version of it was presented at the Journée d'études "Qu'est-ce qu'un theos ? La Grèce ancienne en comparaison" (Paris, Collège de France, 4.11.2021). I heartfully thank all the participants for their fruitful remarks. Many thanks also go to Stephen Germany for revising my English.

Editions used in this paper: LXX = Septuagint, quoted according to Alfred Rahlfs, Septuaginta. Id Est Vetus Testamentum Graece Iuxta LXX Interpretes, Stuttgart, 1935; MT = Masoretic Text, quoted according to Rudolf Kittel, Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, ed. quinta, Stuttgart, 1997.

of differentiation from traditional conceptions of divinities in antiquity, where the gods, while remaining mostly invisible to human eyes, inhabit the same world as humans do and share, to an extent, a space with them. Furthermore, such a process of deterritorialization entails a broader transformation of ancient Israelite religion, ultimately allowing its survival in a diasporic context. The use of onomastic attributes for Yhwh in the Septuagint (henceforth LXX), illustrates this phenomenon well. The label LXX traditionally refers to the first translation of the Pentateuch in Greek, and by extension to the Greek translation of all the other biblical books, realized mostly and most probably in Egypt between the 3rd and the 1st century BCE.2 This corpus offers at least four significant examples of the transformation of the nature and the status of Yhwh.

1.1 The most well-known and widely discussed example is probably the replacement of the proper name Yhwh with the title κύριος, "Lord." This equivalence is largely attested, albeit not systematically, in the main Greek codices. The study of κύριος probably overshadows every other aspect of the research on divine attributes in the Septuagint, and therefore deserves some comment. At least since the beginning of the 20th century, scholarship insisted on the momentous change induced by the choice of the Greek translators to render the tetragram with κύριος. <sup>3</sup> The introduction of κύριος in the biblical text was considered a paradigmatic example of the "Hellenization" of the Jewish scriptures, while at the same time would have attested to a shift in the same nature of the deity. According to Adolf Deissmann, "the Bible whose God is Yahweh is a national Bible [die Bibel eines Volkes]; the Bible whose God is κύριος is a universal Bible [die Weltbibel]." <sup>4</sup> The shift from Yhwh to κύριος was also interpreted as a function of the opposition between polytheism and monotheism, as stated by Charles Dodd: "By merely eliminating the name for God the LXX contributed to the definition of monotheism." 5 One of the major points of attention was the relationship between what these scholars called the "proper name" or theonym (Yhwh) and its honorific title, both in Hebrew and in Greek ('adôn/κύριος). In his influential and much discussed monograph devoted to this issue in 1929, Wolf Wilhelm Baudissin concluded that κύριος was a divine name chosen

The name Septuaginta derives from the number of translators who, according to the legendary account transmitted by the Letter of Aristeas, were sent from Jerusalem to Alexandria to translate the "law of the Jews", which allegedly means the Pentateuch. Contrary to what is affirmed in the Letter, the translation of the Hebrew Bible in Greek was a long and complex process which extended over almost three centuries, involved several different translators and possibly other locations than the sole Alexandria. It is highly probable that the Pentateuch was indeed translated first, but with a different translator (or group of translators) responsible for each book, and that the translation of the other books progressively followed. In modern research, the label "Septuagint" comprises also books which were composed in Greek, either in Egypt or Palestine (such as, e.g., the books of Maccabees), or for which the existence of a Hebrew version is uncertain (such as, e.g., the book of Judith).

Deissmann 1903; Baudissin 1929; Dodd 1935, 3–24.

Deissmann 1903, 174 (14).

Dodd 1935, 4.

intentionally by the Greek translator to replace Yhwh for theological reasons.6 The translators were looking for a name capable of expressing what they considered to be the essence of the divine in Semitic: the absolute sovereignty of the deity and the subordinate status of the worshiper. As the title κύριος did not have specific cultic connotations in Classical Greek, it would have been, so to speak, "free" to be appropriated by the translators. Subsequent research explored related issues, such as the possibility that κύριος would have translated instead a substitute for the tetragram. Such a substitution would already attest to the practice of avoiding the pronunciation of Yhwh's name. Hence, Alexandrian and Palestinian "synagogal" practice would have already long been aligned with each other. Another debated issue is the consistency of the renderings of 'El/'Elohim with θεός and of Yhwh with κύριος, as well as the relationship between these two different renderings and the textual transmission of the LXX. Albert Pietersma advanced the hypothesis that the form κύριος goes back to the Old Greek as a standard equivalent for Yhwh, while variations on this pattern were introduced by later scribes.7 Some scholars also tried to detect a theological significance behind the use of one attribute or another in the Septuagint. Thus, while κύριος would represent the accessible and benevolent side of God's piety, θεός would have been used to insist on the powerful aspects of his action.8 However, these hypotheses have been challenged by papyrological witnesses that attest to other forms for rendering the tetragram and show a much greater diversity of usages than the direct equivalence of 'Elohim with θεός and of Yhwh with κύριος. <sup>9</sup> Such forms, which include the Greek form IAO, paleo-Hebrew writing, dots, etc., point to a more diverse and less systematic use of equivalents for the tetragram by the Greek translators than has usually been recognized.10 In fact, the Greek witnesses reveal a situation that does not differ much from the variety of renderings for the divine name attested among Dead Sea Scrolls. More generally, while no consensus has yet emerged to explain the presence of κύριος within the textual history of the Septuagint, the evidence at our disposal from both the Septuagint and the Dead Sea Scrolls raises the issue of the coexistence of different strategies for treating the divine name during the Hellenistic period.

1.2 A second example of a process of "deterritorialization" of Yhwh is the almost systematic disappearance from the Septuagint of divine attributes such as "rock," "stone," and "shield" (ṣur, sela', magen), which likely refer to the rock of the Jerusalem Temple or to the Mont Zion imagery. These attributes have been replaced by adjectives referring to

Baudissin 1929. The idea that the Palestinian practice of replacing Yhwh by Adonai could have been inspired by Alexandrinian usages was controversial, and is indeed unlikely. See already Cerfaux 1931. Pietersma 1984.

The best representative of this tendency is Rösel 1991; Rösel 1998, 54–55; Rösel 2007, 420–423.

See, among others, Skehan 1980; Tov 2020; Shaw 2014.

On the different strategies to translate divine names in the Hellenistic period among Levantine communities, see Cornell in this volume.

Yhwh as an active agent, described as a refuge (καταφυγή), helper, protector (βοηθός, ἀντιλήμπτωρ), or savior (σωτήρ). The Egyptian background of such adjectives has been long noted: this vocabulary either occurs in petitions addressed to Ptolemaic kings or is attested among the attributes applied to local gods whose cult became popular in Hellenistic times, such as Isis and Serapis.<sup>11</sup> These observations have shown the extent to which the Septuagint vocabulary is embedded in the Hellenistic-Egyptian cultural and religious context. They have also contributed to the reconstruction of profiles for different translators. However, while scholars have addressed the significance of these semantic changes on a broad historical-religious level, their main research questions remained essentially focused on two themes. The first theme deals with the hypothesis that that the replacement of the original renderings by metaphorical designations in the Septuagint was dictated by the concern of avoiding a materialistic representation of God. In this regard, the discussion has often been related to the issue of anthropomorphism or antianthropomorphism in the Septuagint.<sup>12</sup> A second theme concerns the possibility that translators' choices were guided by the desire to avoid religious referents that sounded too explicitly "Greek." Answers to these questions have been sought and provided mainly via the analysis of "translation techniques": in this regard, the most detailed treatment has been offered by Staffan Olofsson in 1990.<sup>13</sup>

1.3 A further example attesting a tendency towards the universalization of Yhwh's worship is the translation of the attribute Zebaoth. This Hebrew form never occurs alone, but as an attribute of Yhwh (in the expressions Yhwh ṣebaoth or, more rarely, 'adonay yhwh ṣebaoth, Yhwh 'elohei ṣebaoth and similar ones) and is prominent in the Prophets, especially in the books representing a tradition which fostered a theology of Zion and its temple, such as First and Second Isaiah, Haggai, Malachi, and Zechariah, and is also well attested in the Psalms. The attribute originated in the Temple context, and is connected with Yhwh's cult: by this name Yhwh is invoked as a military protector of Jerusalem, and the attribute is associated with his representation as a warrior.<sup>14</sup> In Greek, Zebaoth is rendered with παντοκράτωρ, "all powerful," in most instances,

Marcus 1931 and the fundamental study of Montevecchi 1961; recently Bons 2014; Aitken 2015.

See, e.g., Passoni dell'Acqua 1977; Olofsson 1990, 17–33; Wevers 1995, 510; McCarthy 2007, 139–140. Olofsson 1990.

Zebaoth is absent from Genesis-Judges and rare in the Writings; it occurs sporadically in the historical books (Samuel-Kings and Chronicles). It occurs more than 100 times in the Twelve, and 61 times in Isaiah. Jeremiah is a different case: while in the Masoretic Text of Jeremiah Zebaoth occurs 82 times, only a small minority of these occurrences has a counterpart in the LXX. The discrepancy is probably due to a different Vorlage, as the short version of the LXX of Jeremiah might have been closer to the original Hebrew: see Olofsson 1990, 122–124 and Rofé 1991. The reference work for the study of Yhwh Zebaoth remains Mettinger 1982; see also Mettinger 1999. On the epigraphic evidence, see Lemaire 2010; for older bibliography, see Zobel 2003, 216–232. The etymology of Zebaoth is not entirely unproblematic; for a recent assessment, see Lenzo/Nihan 2022.

especially in the Book of the Twelve, while the transliteration σαβαωθ and the expression κύριος τῶν δυνάμεων, "lord of powers" also occur elsewhere (above all in Isaiah and Psalms, respectively).<sup>15</sup> The form παντοκράτωρ can be easily understood in a Hellenistic cultic context. Although the attribute could formally be a neologism, as the Septuagint turns out to be its most ancient attestation, the notion of an "all powerful" deity is known in Hellenistic Egypt: very similar formations are well attested, such as πάντων κρατούσηι, "powerful upon everything," which appears as a qualification of Isis.<sup>16</sup> Thus, the attribute παντοκράτωρ underscores the power of Yhwh not so much as a warrior but as a universal ruler and a creator. Such a shift would constitute, according to Emanuel Tov, an example of "theologically motivated exegesis" in the LXX.<sup>17</sup> The theological impact of what has been called an "interpretative rendering" of Zebaoth by παντοκράτωρ is further demonstrated by two different trends in the history of the Septuagint. The attribute seems to have been particularly appreciated in certain intellectual circles. For example, the translator of the book of Job adopted this rendering to translate the divine name Shadday, whose meaning is unclear, and παντοκράτωρ occurs relatively often in the books of Maccabees.18 Yet παντοκράτωρ must have proven problematic by later redactors of the books of Kingdoms and the Twelve, who at certain points replaced it with one of the two alternative translations, either σαβαωθ or κύριος τῶν δυνάμεων, probably perceived as more appropriate because they are closer to the Hebrew.19

1.4 The last piece of evidence which can be included here is the presence in the LXX of attributes such as "god/lord of heaven" (οὐράνιος/ἐπουράνιος) and of the conceptually related designation of Yhwh as "the most high" (ὕψιστος). To be sure, such onomastic attributes hardly represent a LXX innovation. Ὕψιστος is the consistent translation for the Hebrew 'Elyon, "The most high," which in the Hebrew Bible can occur in a variety of combinations: either alone, or accompanied by the form 'El, "god," or in other constructs such as Yhwh 'Elyon or 'Elohim 'Elyon.20 Similarly, the attribute "god/lord of the sky" is well established in semitic contexts (b'l šmm, "lord of the sky"), and is attested in Phoenician sources since the 10th century BCE,<sup>21</sup> before

See Dogniez 1997.

See, for example, the inscription from the Serapeion of Delos, where Isis is called Μεγάλη, τῆι πάντων κρατούσηι (RICIS 202/0173 = DB MAP T#10741).

Tov 1999, 263.

Job 5:17; 8:5; 11:7; 15:25; 22:17, 25; 23:16; 27:2, 11, 13; 32:8; 33:4; 34:10, 12; 35:13; 37:22; see Witte 2011 and Angelini 2022. The attribute occurs also in 2 Macc 1:25; 3:30; 5:20; 6:26; 7:35, 38; 8:11, 18, 24; 15:8, 32; 3 Macc 2:2, 8; 5:7; 6:2, 18, 28.

On this, see Talshir 1987; Dogniez 1997, 22–23.

Despite the combination of 'Elyon with the onomastic attribute 'El, these designations still refer to Yhwh, as 'El was probably understood as a name of Yhwh in all the passages where the expression 'El 'Elyon occurs. See Angelini 2021, 190–191.

The inscription of king Yehimilk from Byblos, dating to around 950 BCE (KAI 4,3 = DB MAP S#851).

entering the Aramaic and Israelite religious traditions. Its earliest attestation in a Judeo-Aramaic context is found in the Elephantine papyri, dating back to the 5th century BCE, and it occurs in several post-exilic texts of the Hebrew Bible.22 Such designations represent Yhwh as the supreme deity and express his power within the divine realm: they point to his role as the president of the divine assembly, enthroned on a divine mountain, and as a creator god. The designation of Yhwh as a "god of heaven" is also put in the mouth of foreigners or used to emphasize Yhwh's international character.23 As for the use of the attribute in the LXX, two aspects are worth noting, both discussed by James Aitken.<sup>24</sup> First, the designation "god (or lord) of heaven" appears very frequently in later books, such as Judith, Daniel, Maccabees and Tobit, and overall increases in Hellenistic-period Jewish literature, to become a standard title for God. Second, the forms οὐράνιος / ἐπουράνιος translate different onomastic attributes in the Psalms, including Shadday.25 Thus, we can explain the success of this divine attribute, probably among other factors, also by the fact that such a designation is well attuned with a representation of the deity whose place of residence is located in heaven. This is made explicit by a passage from 2 Maccabees (a book originally composed in Greek), where the god of Israel is called ὁ τὴν κατοικίαν ἐπουράνιον ἔχων, "he who has his dwelling in heaven." 26

While these examples testify to the relevance of the LXX in understanding how the change in the use of divine onomastic attributes reflects a major transformation in the conceptualization of Yhwh's power, they also attest to some methodological shortcomings in LXX research on these attributes, which need to be briefly discussed before proceeding further.

# 2 Methodological Remarks

From the overview outlined above, at least three methodological remarks are in order, which concern (1) the conceptual and linguistical framework for approaching the study of divine onomastic attributes in the LXX; (2) the relationship between the LXX and the Hebrew Bible; and (3) the integration of LXX linguistic analysis with a broader religio-historical and cultural perspective.

2.1 The traditional approach to the study of onomastic attributes in the LXX is still based either on an overly rigid separation between the categories of theonym, title,

The most detailed treatment is provided by Niehr 1990, 43–60 and Niehr 2003, 185–213. On the equivalence between B'l šmm and Zeus ouranios, see Niehr 2003, 42–50; 101; 219–220; 244–245. See also Parker 2017, 122–124.

Ezra 1:2; 5:11, 12; 6:9, 10; 7:12, 21, 23; Neh 1:4, 5; 2:4; Ps 136:26; Dan 2:18, 19, 37, 4; 1 Macc 3:18.

Aitken 2007.

On this, see also Angelini 2022.

2 Macc 3:39.

and attribute/epithet, or on a confusion between them. In a similar way, the distinction between "names" and "metaphorical designations of god," sometimes adopted to avoid the problem of defining a set of terms which would fit the label of "divine name," proves unsatisfactory both from a religio-historical and from a cognitive perspective. Such distinctions have been challenged by scholars in Greek religion and recently also in West Semitic religions, notably by the MAP project.27 Therefore, recent discussions in both fields need to be taken into account by LXX research. In this regard, the focus on the issue of a "substitute" for the name of Yhwh, going back to early 20th-century concepts, runs the risk of being anachronistic, if not even misleading. Equally problematic is the tendency of LXX scholars to treat single onomastic attributes "in isolation," so to speak, although they frequently occur in numerous and various groupings, parallelisms, or chains: all these combinations would deserve a closer analysis. To be sure, there are differences and hierarchies between divine attributes. Yet a more complex understanding of the relationship between name and attribute is needed to draw a more precise mapping of the mutual relationship between different onomastic attributes.

2.2 LXX studies tend to include the treatment of divine attributes in the Hebrew Bible mostly in terms of Vorlage. However, the broader issue of the continuity or discontinuity between trends detectable in the LXX and traditions represented by the Hebrew Bible is very relevant for the study of divine onomastic attributes. This holds especially true if we consider the relevance of Deuteronomistic and Second Temple traditions in promoting the process of the deterritorialization of Yhwh. According to these traditions, is not the deity who resides in the Temple, but only his name.<sup>28</sup> Moreover, one should ask to what extent some of the divine attributes that we find in the Greek biblical texts have already evolved in meaning within the Hebrew Bible itself. For example, it is possible that the attribute Zebaoth underwent a semantic shift already within the Hebrew Bible, as it moved from denoting the military protector of Jerusalem to serve as a designation for a universal ruler.29 Hence, with παντοκράτωρ, the Greek translators did not introduce an entirely new concept, but transposed in Greek terms a notion which was already productive in the Hebrew text. Overall, the relationship between the onomastic attributes in the LXX and in the Hebrew Bible deserves an investigation that goes beyond the text-critical use of these texts. Exploring which tendencies detectable in the Septuagint do or do not display a continuity with a process of deterritorialization of Yhwh which is already at work in the Hebrew Bible will lead to a more historically accurate picture of this phenomenon.

See, e.g., Bonnet et al. 2018, but also Parker 2017, 1–32.

The reference study is Mettinger 1982. For a recent assessment of the so called "name theology",

see Porzia 2022, 200–205.

Angelini/Nihan 2022.

2.3 Finally, the very fine linguistic analyses of the Hellenistic-Egyptian background of the LXX, of its translation techniques, and of its textual transmission still strive to articulate their findings with a broader cultural, historical, religious, and comparative perspective. As Aitken recently stated, the time is ripe to go "beyond translation techniques" and to consider other factors in appreciating the role of the divine attributes in the LXX and their impact on broader issues related to translatability and circulation of the onomastic sequences and of the specific configurations of the divine travelling with them.<sup>30</sup> In this regard, more could be done to put the LXX in relationship with broader phenomena in the treatment of divine names attested for the Hellenistic period, and of which the LXX often constitutes the earliest Greek attestation, such as the spreading of the cults of supreme gods, the universalism of major gods within their specific pantheon configurations, and other aspects as well.<sup>31</sup> As we have seen, the attempts made so far to put the use of divine onomastic attributes in the LXX in dialogue with Greek religious traditions have been mainly connected with the topic of anthropomorphism and have been read against the background of an alleged opposition between anthropomorphic and antianthropomorphic tendencies in the representation of gods. Now, such an approach has proven problematic in several regards, as it seems to be derived more from theological concerns of modern scholars than reflecting an issue raised by the ancient texts.<sup>32</sup> However, the question of the modes of the divine appearance points to an essential feature of the representation of the gods in antiquity, i.e., the fact that divine names and divine images are de facto intertwined in ancient religious experience. Therefore, their relationship does deserve attention, although it needs to be analyzed within a different methodological framework.

In what follows, I will try to outline such a framework by approaching the LXX corpus through a specific angle of enquiry. I will focus on the relationship between the development of an idea of a heavenly and "transcendent" god and the possibility for worshippers to experience his presence, tackling the issue of the connections between the change in the nature of the god as attested by onomastic attributes, the space he occupies, and his body. In this regard, it is worth observing that divine bodies and divine attributes, together with divine images, can be seen as three sides of a same coin, sharing at their core the notion of space. The change of names and the re-semantization of the onomastic attributes of Yhwh, both within the Hebrew Bible itself and in the passage from Hebrew to Greek, reflects changes that concern both the nature of the divinity and its representation. From this point of view, the trajectories of the name and of the divine image can, and indeed must, be considered in a reciprocal relationship. This point has been highlighted by the MAP project, which emphasized how "images and

Aitken 2021 and Aitken 2022.

On these phenomena, see Belayche 2005a; Belayche 2005b; Mitchell/Van Nuffelen 2010; Parker 2017, 133–153.

See already the remarks of Barr 1960; Orlinsky 1956; see more recently Peters 2013; Aitken 2021.

names can be grasped as parallel strategies of communication between men and gods . . . onomastic attributes and iconographic attributes can cooperate." <sup>33</sup> Moreover, the research conducted by the MAP team emphasized the similarity between naming processes and processes of shaping divine bodies, as both concur in "making the divine into something other in essence," or, in French terms, in the "fabrication du divin." 34 Such an angle of enquiry is even more significant for understanding the shift from ancient Israelite religion to early Judaism, where the trajectories of the divine name and the divine image drastically diverge, thus representing a quite unique phenomenon in the ancient religious landscape.

### 3 Heavenly Body and Cultic Presence

The connection between name and embodiment has not escaped the attention of biblical scholars. It has been the object of a recent analysis by Mark Smith, who tried to systematize the references to divine body in the Hebrew Bible by drawing a typology.<sup>35</sup> He identifies three types of divine body in the Hebrew Bible: an anthropomorphic body, mainly related to the representation of Yhwh in the origin stories; a luminous and supersized body, which becomes manifest in cultic contexts; and what he calls the "heavenly" or "super-heavenly" body, which has a cosmic dimension and cannot be the object of any earthly manifestation. This third type of body is of interest for our purposes here. One telling example, among many, of Yhwh's heavenly body is the prayer of King Solomon during the dedication of the temple in Jerusalem in the first book of Kings. Here the king explicitly states: "Could God really dwell on earth? Even heaven and the heaven of heaven cannot contain you! How much less this House that I have built!" <sup>36</sup> Solomon further specifies that when someone, even a foreigner, calls upon Yhwh from the temple, the deity "hears from heaven, the dwelling place where you live . . ." <sup>37</sup> Thus, in this perspective, what humans can experience directly is no longer the deity himself, but one of his avatars, either his name, or his glory, or subordinate powers, such as the angels.

This type of body, which, according to Smith, constitutes a novelty when compared to the traditional representations of the divine body in Levantine cultures, would come to predominate in post-exilic traditions, continuing in both early Judaism and early Christianity. It corresponds to a major change in the nature and status of Yhwh, and parallels in several regards the processes attested by the onomastic attrib-

Bonnet et al. 2019.

Ibid., 214.

Smith 2016, 11–30.

1 Kgs 8:27.

1 Kgs 8:43.

utes in the LXX which have been discussed above. Furthermore, the relationship between the absence of a divine image and the impossibility of representing the deity in a human form is also one of the most striking features of Jewish religion when it comes to the attention of the Greeks. This is made explicit in a passage by Diodorus of Sicily, an author from the 1st century BCE who probably based this section of his Biblioteca Historica on the earlier work of Hecataeus of Abdera (end of the 4th century BCE). The passage seems to translate the Solomonic conception of a super-heavenly deity into Greek categories: ἄγαλμα δὲ θεῶν τὸ σύνολον οὐ κατεσκεύασε διὰ τὸ μὴ νομίζειν ἀνθρωπόμορφον εἶναι τὸν θεόν, ἀλλὰ τὸν περιέχ οντα τὴν γῆν οὐρανὸν μόνον εἶναι θεὸν καὶ τῶν ὅλων κύριον. "He (=Moses) did not set any divine statue, as they (= the Jews) do not think that the god has a human form, but that only the heaven around the earth is a god and that it rules over everything." 38

When it comes to the representation of this heavenly or super-heavenly body in the LXX, two further issues emerge. First, this shift in the nature of the god might affect his visibility by humans. To be sure, gods in antiquity are usually invisible to human eyes: invisibility is indeed one of the main signals featuring their divine nature. However, under certain conditions and in specific circumstances (which are mainly, albeit not exclusively, cultic), they might make themselves "present" to human sensory experience: to borrow a felicitous expression by Jean-Pierre Vernant, they can be "presentified." <sup>39</sup> Hence, one should ask to what extent the representation of Yhwh as a power who is not only universal but also "transcendent" implies the conceptualization of a divine power which has become more difficult to access, or is even inaccessible. In this regard, scholars have long noticed different tendencies concerning visions of the divine in the LXX.40 Several passages soften or reject the very idea of seeing God. Among the most famous examples is the theophany on Mount Sinai described in the book of Exodus. In the Greek version of Exod 24:10, Moses, Aaron, and the elders no longer see the deity as in the Hebrew text (they "beheld the God of Israel," 'et 'elohêy yiśra'el, with the particle 'et marking the direct object), but only "the place where the god of Israel was" (καὶ εἶδον τὸν τόπον οὗ εἱστήκει ἐκεῖ ὁ θεὸς τοῦ Ισραηλ). Another example comes from Psalm 17, one of the so-called "psalms of the accused," where the speaker seeks divine justice in the temple against a false accusation.41 The psalm concludes with the expectation to see the face of Yhwh as a sign of exculpation:42

Ps 17:15 MT: As for me, in justice I shall behold ('eḥezeh) your face (panîm); on awaking, I will be satiated with your appearance (temûnah).

The Greek translation (Ps 16:15 LXX) has a slightly different text:

Ibid., 73.

Diod. 40.3.4 = FGrH 264 F 6.

On the notion of "présentification," see Vernant 1996.

See Olofsson 1990; Hanson 1992; Hayward 2005; Joosten 2008; Van der Meer 2019.

On this group of psalms, see Schmidt 1928; Beyerlin 1970; Van der Toorn [1988] 2018.

ἐγὼ δὲ ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ ὀφθήσομαι τῷ προσώπῳ σου, χορτασθήσομαι ἐν τῷ ὀφθῆναι τὴν δόξαν σου.

I will be seen by your face in justice, I will be satisfied in the appearance of your glory.

The two changes made by the translator (the speaker "appears" before the face of the god; the speaker sees God's "glory" and not his "appearance") show that this passage has been interpreted not only in light of Deuteronomic traditions, according to which during the theophany of Sinai the Israelites had not actually seen any image of the divinity,<sup>43</sup> but also in the light of the Decalogue's prohibition of divine images.44

However, other passages preserve the reference to a divine vision where it is present in Hebrew, or even introduce it where it is absent.<sup>45</sup> A first example comes from Exod 25:8, where the sanctuary is no longer the place where the god resides permanently (škn), but the place where he manifests himself:

MT: They shall make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell (šakanty) among them.

LXX: καὶ ποιήσεις μοι ἁγίασμα, καὶ ὀφθήσομαι ἐν ὑμῖν. You shall make me a sanctuary, and I will make myself seen among you.

A second example is Deut 31:15. Instead of the god who "appears" or "makes himself to be seen at the tent in a pillar of cloud" (wayyera' yhwh ba'ohel be'ammud 'anan), the text mentions a god who "comes down in a cloud" and "stands at the doors of the tent" (κατέβη κύριος ἐν νεφέλῃ καὶ ἔστη παρὰ τὰς θύρας).

Traditional exegesis tried to explain the avoidance of references to seeing the deity by attributing this to an alleged antianthropomorphic attitude of the LXX. However, such an explanation is unsatisfactory, as it fails to explain the opposite tendency to introduce a reference to an encounter with the deity, which is found often within the same book, as the examples from Exod 24:10 and 25:8 show.46 Moreover, the LXX of Deut 31:15 and Exod 25:8 seem to suggest that the concern of the translators is not the possibility of seeing Yhwh in a human form. Rather, both translators insist on the fact that the deity does not reside permanently either in the tent or in the sanctuary, but "comes down" (Deut 31:15) and appears (Exod 25:8) from elsewhere.

Deut 4:12: "and Yhwh spoke to you from the midst of the fire: a voice spoke, and you heard it, but you saw no appearance (temûnah)." Compare also Exod 33:20–23, according to which none can see the face of Yhwh and survive.

Exod 20:4 and Deut 5:8: "you shall not make for yourselves any carved object, any appearance (temûnah) of that which is in the waters above, nor on the earth below, nor in the waters which are under the earth."

For a full list of passages, see van der Meer 2019, 9–12.

In both cases, the changes are due to the translator's choice and not to a different Vorlage. Wevers 1990, 395; Le Boulluec/Sandevoir 2004, 252; Himbaza 2005, 105–106; Perkins 2013. For a critique of the anthropomorphic approach, see recently van der Meer 2019.

A second issue directly connected with the conceptualization of Yhwh's body and Yhwh's presence among human beings concerns the alleged "spiritualization" of the deity, that is, the emergence of the notion of a god that is no longer perceptible by the senses, but the object of a purely "intellectual" experience. Related to this issue is the question of the possible influences from Greek philosophical traditions on such a development. In this regard, the appeal to "Greek influence" has lent itself to the most disparate uses. On the one hand, the so-called antianthropomorphic tendencies of the LXX are seen as a reaction to the surrounding "pagan" religion, which made extensive use of divine images. However, on the other hand, these same tendencies are explained by the influence of Greek rationalism—more specifically Platonism—on the translators.47

The different, and to an extent contradictory, responses offered by scholarship for both of these phenomena, and the opposite evaluation of the role assigned to Greek influences on the LXX translators, suggest that the question of the conditions, possibilities, and forms of experiencing the divine presence in the LXX would benefit from further enquiry. In what follows, I will focus on two study cases, which deal with two essential forms of Yhwh's manifestation on earth, namely, his "face" and his "spirits."

# 4 Seeing the Face of God in the Greek Psalter

The first study case focuses on the translation of the invocation made to Yhwh to "make his face shine" upon the worshipper in the book of Psalms. This expression is significant, as it does not simply belong to the register of poetic metaphor but presupposes a cultic setting.48 This is confirmed by its first occurrence in the Hebrew Bible, in the Priestly blessing on Aaron in Num 6:24–26:

24 May Yhwh bless you and protect you

25 May Yhwh make his face shine upon you (ya'er yhwh panaw 'eleka) and give you his grace 26 May Yhwh raise his face upon you (yiśśa' yhwh panaw 'eleka) and give you peace.

The presence of a very similar text on one of the amulets found in a funerary chamber at Ketef Hinnom, a necropolis near Jerusalem, dating to the 6th c. BCE, highlights the ritual value of this text. In the book of Numbers, the passage is translated into Greek as follows:

 Εὐλογήσαι σε κύριος καὶ φυλάξαι σε, May the Lord bless you and protect you ἐπιφάναι κύριος τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ σὲ καὶ ἐλεήσαι σε,

 May the Lord show his face upon you and be merciful to you,

In this regard, one can compare, among other examples, Passoni dell'Acqua 1977, 451: "Al razionalismo di stampo greco un dio roccia . . . provocava un effetto di ripulsa . . . gli avvenimenti storici che avevano suggerito quelle immagini erano ormai sfocati nel tempo, visti con distacco e mentalità razionale". Compare also Hanson 1992, 566; Schwartz 2010, 209.

See, among others, Smith 1988; Hartenstein 2008, 177–204.

 Εὐλογήσαι σε κύριος καὶ φυλάξαι σε, May the Lord bless you and protect you ἐπάραι κύριος τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ σὲ καὶ δῴη σοι εἰρήνην.

 May the Lord raise his face upon you and give you peace.

The wish for the face of Yhwh to shine upon the worshipper (ya'er yhwh panaw 'eleka) is rendered in Greek by the expression ἐπιφάναι κύριος τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ σὲ, "May the Lord show his face/his countenance upon you." This expression, or very similar ones, occur also several times in the Psalms, as the following table shows:

Tab. 1: The shining face of Yhwh in the Psalms.


#### Tab. 1 (continued)


Apart from Psalm 66, which is a general request for blessings, in the other psalms the speaker asks for Yhwh to "make his face shine," i.e., to intervene and save him in a situation of mortal danger. Moreover, Psalms 66 and 79 imply a military context, or at least refer to the power of Yhwh as a warrior (as the attribute Yhwh 'Elohim Zebaoth/ κύριε ὁ θεὸς τῶν δυνάμεων suggests). In Ps 79, where this appeal to Yhwh occurs repeatedly and structures the whole text, the god is asked to "return and look down from the sky" (v. 15).

When the light emanating from Yhwh's face or presence is expressed in Hebrew by the Hiphil form of the verb 'wr, "to make shine," "to spread light," + the object panîm, "face" or "countenance," such an expression is rendered in Greek by the strong aorist of the verb ἐπιφαίνω + the object πρόσωπον. Both Num 6:24–26 and the Psalms indicate that this luminous aspect of Yhwh's face is not a pure ornament, but acts as an instrument of blessing and salvation, together with his arm (see especially Ps 44:4 LXX = 43:4 MT): in cognitive terms, this is a strong conceptual metonymy to express the manifestation of Yhwh's power. Moreover, such a metonymy is well rooted in the Levantine religious context, where being "the face of a x-male-god" might be an attribute of the goddess in divine couples.<sup>49</sup> Thus, the Greek translators did not resort to a literal rendering, such as the verb φωτίζω, which one could expect as an equivalent for 'wr and which occurs elsewhere in the LXX, mostly in non-cultic contexts.<sup>50</sup> Rather, they reinterpreted the luminous countenance of Yhwh by the Greek language of divine epiphany conveyed by ἐπιφαίνω. 51

The use of the verb ἐπιφαίνω to describe a divine appearance in literary sources is unattested in Greek before the late Hellenistic period, and in this regard the LXX represents a significant piece of evidence. Very few antecedents occur in inscriptions from the Hellenistic period onwards. As has been noted, since this period the number of records of divine apparitions in inscriptions increases, both in Greece and Asia Minor.<sup>52</sup> The deity usually appears to provide help in contexts of crisis or danger, but also to defend his or her goods, such as the temple. Among the most famous examples, one can think of Athena rescuing her sanctuary in Lindos<sup>53</sup> or of Zeus Panamaros defending his sanctuary in Stratonikeia.54 Since at least the 3rd c. BCE, such divine interventions are recorded under the rubrics of "ἐπιφάνειαι": an inscription from Kos commemorating the intervention of Apollo in Delphi which put the Galates on the run, dating to 278 BCE, is probably the most ancient attestation of ἐπιφάνεια with this meaning.55 Yet the occurrence of the verb ἐπιφαίνω is rarer. It is found in an inscription from Epidaurus dating to the second half of the 4th c. BCE, where Asklepios appears in a dream to an ill man who had not trusted the healing power of the god,56 and in the record of the reorganization of the cult for Artemis in Magnesia-on-the-Maeander, following an apparition of the goddess in 221–220 BCE.<sup>57</sup>

Similar remarks hold true for the literary uses of the noun ἐπιφάνεια: in the sense of "divine apparition," it occurs in the LXX before being employed by later liter-

See., e.g., Tanit "face of Baʿal" in Punic inscriptions from the tophet of Carthage. On the relationship between name and face in ancient Levant and in the Hebrew Bible, see Porzia 2022.

See, e.g., Ps 118 (MT 119):30; Qoh 8:1; Mic 7:8; Isa 60:19. The equivalence between 'wr + panîm and ἐπιφαίνω + πρόσωπον also occurs in Ps 118 (MT 119):135. However, as this psalm is a late wisdom composition which did not have a cultic setting, I did not include it in Tab. 1.

Accordingly, the form ἐπέφανεν also occurs as an equivalence for the verb zrḥ, "to shine," in the theophany of Deut 33:2.

On this phenomenon, see the remarks of Paul 2012, 246–248.

I.Lindos 2, section D; Higbie 2003, 43–49.

I. Stratonikeia 10 (DB MAP S #5775). See recently Belayche 2009 and Belayche in this volume.

Syll.3 398. On the history of the term ἐπιφάνεια and on ancient epiphanies, see Petridou 2016. On epiphanies in Hellenistic times, see also Versnel 1987; Dunand 2002.

IG IV 951 = IG IV2 I, 121: ἐδόκει ὑπὸ τῶι ναῶι ἀστραγαλίζον[τ]ος αὐτοῦ καὶ μέλλοντος βάλλειν τῶι ἀστραγάλωι, ἐπιφανέντα [τ]ὸν θεὸν̣ ἐφαλέσθαι ἐπὶ τὰν χῆρα καὶ ἐκτεῖναί οὑ τοὺς δακτύλλους.

I.Magnesia 16, ll. 4–10 (last edition by Rigsby 1996, 179–190, n. 66, DB MAP S #9469): [ὑστε]ρ̣ον ἐπιφαινομένης αὐτοῖς Ἀρτέμι[δο]ς Λε[υκοφρυηνῆς ἔπεμ][ψαν]ν̣ Ἀγάριστον̣ χρηστηριάζει τάδε πρὸς τὴν ἐρώ[τησιν αὐτῶν·] [λώ]ϊον εἶμεν καὶ ἄμεινον τοῖς σε[β]ομένοις Ἀπ[όλλωνα Πύθι][ο]ν̣ καὶ Ἄρτεμιν Λευκοφρυηνὴν καὶ τὰ[μ] π[όλιν καὶ τὰν] [χ]ώ̣ραν τὰμ Μαγνήτων τῶν ἐπὶ Μαιάνδρ[ο]υ [ἱερὰν καὶ ἄσυ][λ] ον νομιζόντοις. The inscription dates to 207–203 BCE.

ary sources, such as Diodorus or Polybius. The noun is well attested in the second book of Maccabees, composed in Greek in the 2nd c. BCE. The best example is the epiphany that appears to Heliodorus, the prime minister of king Seleucus, who was about to confiscate the treasury of the Jerusalem temple. In this situation, Yhwh, described as "the ruler of the spirits and of all powers," manifested himself through his powers: he entered the temple in the form of a warrior with golden armor, mounted on a horse, and surrounded by two young men, handsome and beautifully dressed. They attacked Heliodorus and left him almost dead at the entrance of the treasury:

αὐτόθι δὲ αὐτοῦ σὺν τοῖς δορυφόροις κατὰ τὸ γαζοφυλάκιον ἤδη παρόντος ὁ τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης ἐξουσίας δυνάστης ἐπιφάνειαν μεγάλην ἐποίησεν ὥστε πάντας τοὺς κατατολμήσαντας συνελθεῖν καταπλαγέντας τὴν τοῦ θεοῦ δύναμιν εἰς ἔκλυσιν καὶ δειλίαν τραπῆναι.

However, just as he with his bodyguards was already near the treasury, the ruler of spirits and of every authority made a great epiphany, so that those who had insolently come along, panicstricken at the power of God, were changed to weak-kneed cowardice.<sup>58</sup>

Such a "divine energy" (θεία ἐνέργεια, v. 29) produced the immediate effect of converting Heliodorus to Judaism. The occurrence in this passage of the attribute ὁ τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης ἐξουσίας δυνάστης, "the ruler of spirits and of every authority/ power," brings us directly to our second study case, focusing on the use of the attribute "ruler/lord of spirits" in the LXX. I will turn to the analysis of this expression before outlining some general conclusions.

# 5 A Spiritual Religion or a Religion Full of Spirits? The Attribute "Lord of Spirits"

The designation of Yhwh as a ruler or lord of spirits, and of heavenly powers more generally, fits well his representation as a celestial deity. The expression ὁ τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης ἐξουσίας δυνάστης in 2 Macc 3:24 has two antecedents in the LXX, both found in the book of Numbers, where the similar form θεὸς τῶν πνευμάτων occurs. This attribute is the result of a process of resemantization of the Hebrew expression 'elohei harûḥot lǝkol baśar, "god of spirits for all flesh." Its first occurrence is in the appeal made by Moses and Aaron to Yhwh during Korah's rebellion (Num 16:22). The expression occurs again later in the book, when Joshua is designated as Moses' successor (Num 27:16).

In both cases the attribute refers to human beings. As Nathan MacDonald has convincingly argued, this is not meant to express a dualism between body and soul, but rather to underscore the fact that Yhwh presides over the lives of all humans and can

2 Macc 3:24 (transl. Doran).

decide their fate.<sup>59</sup> A first interpretation of the attribute is already found in the LXX of Num 16:22, which translates: "god of spirits and all flesh" (θεὸς τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης σαρκός). It is possible that the translator interpreted the Hebrew attribute against the background of the distinction between "soul" and "body" that was emerging in the anthropology of the time. However, it remains difficult to understand the significance of such a dichotomy in this context. Therefore, we cannot exclude the possibility that the πνεύματα mentioned here are heavenly spirits, the ruḥot indigenous to ancient Israelite religion.<sup>60</sup> Σάρξ would then indicate human beings, or the living world as a whole, as occurs elsewhere in the Pentateuch, particularly in the LXX of Numbers.<sup>61</sup> The use of an onomastic attribute that emphasizes Yhwh's absolute sovereignty over the heavenly and the earthly spheres makes sense in the context of Numbers 16, where Moses' prayer aims at preventing the divine wrath from annihilating the entire community. It is also appropriate in chapter 27, where Moses asks Yhwh to appoint a leader able to act as an agent of the god and to guide the people into the land.

As for the attribute ὁ τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης ἐξουσίας δυνάστης in 2 Macc 3:24, it seems beyond doubt that πνεύματα here refer to heavenly powers with a military function, namely, to angelic powers: as discussed above, the military context is here explicit. In the Second Temple literature the attribute "Lord of the Spirits" becomes very popular especially in the books of Enoch (where it occurs more than one hundred times).<sup>62</sup> It also occurs in the book of Jubilees (10:3), the Dead Sea Scrolls (1QH 18 [10],8; 1QM 12, 7–8), and the New Testament in a slightly different form.63 Moreover, it is found in two epitaphs from the 2nd century BCE from Rheneia, which served as a cemetery for the island of Delos. The presence of such an attribute in a funerary context attests to the power that must have been associated with it. The first inscription, engraved with the same text on both sides of a tombstone, is written for a girl named Heraclea. Two open and raised hands are engraved above the text. A second inscription with a very similar text is written for another girl, Martine, which makes a total

MacDonald 2013, 101.

For further on these notions, see Angelini 2021, 225–266.

See Num 18:15 and Gen 2:24; 6:12.

See Black 1985, p. 189–191, according to which the Ethiopic form could be an equivalent for the expression "Lord of armies" (κύριος τῶν δυνάμεων/yhwh ṣǝbā'ôt); Chialà 1997, 142–144; Nickelsburg 2001, 41, 91, and the contribution of Ben-Dov in this volume. Unlike him (692–693), I argue for a different meaning of the attribute in the Greek sources compared to the Hebrew Bible, especially in the LXX of Numbers and in the Rheneia inscription. For a different interpretation, see also Litvinau 2022, 405–408. He, however, does not take sufficiently into account the complexity of the Septuagint traditions on the spirits (see Angelini 2021, 225–266).

Rev 22:6 ("The Lord, god of spirits") and Heb 12:9 ("father of spirits").

of three almost identical texts.<sup>64</sup> The numerous references to the LXX as well as the presence of a Jewish (or Samaritan) group in Delos, well documented by epigraphic evidence, confirm the Jewish (or Samaritan) origin of the inscription. The epitaphs invoke the vengeance of the deity for the untimely death of two young girls and wish for the punishment of the responsible party. The first inscription reads:

ἐπικαλοῦμαι καὶ ἀξιῶ τὸν θεὸν τὸν ὕψιστον τὸν κύριον τῶν πνευμάτων καὶ πάσης σαρκός, ἐπὶ τοὺς δόλωι φονεύσαντας ἢ φαρμακεύσαντας τὴν τα-5 λαίπωρον ἄωρον Ἡράκλεαν, ἐχχέαντας αὐτῆς τὸ ἀναίτιον αἷμα ἀδίκως, ἵνα οὕτως γένηται τοῖς φονεύσασιν αὐτὴν ἢ φαρμακεύσασιν καὶ τοῖς τέκνοις αὐτῶν, Κύριε ὁ πάντα ἐ-10 φορῶν καὶ οἱ ἄνγελοι θεοῦ, ᾧ πᾶσα ψυχὴ ἐν τῇ σήμερον ἡμέραι ταπεινοῦτα[ι] μεθ' ἱκετείας ἵνα ἐγδικήσῃς τὸ αἷμα τὸ ἀναίτιον ζητήσεις καὶ τὴν ταχίστην.

I call upon and entreat God the Most High, the Lord of the spirits and of all flesh, against those who have treacherously murdered or poisoned the wretched Heraclea, who died untimely, and who have unjustly shed her innocent blood, that the same may happen to them who have murdered or poisoned her and to their children, O Lord, you who see everything, and you, angels of God, for whom every soul humbles itself on the present day with supplication, that you may avenge and requite her innocent blood as soon as possible.<sup>65</sup>

The text contains several biblical quotations, while at the same time drawing on the language of curses. The deity is called as the "Most High," "Lord of the spirits and of all flesh" (l. 1–3), and "he who sees all" (l. 9–10). That these spirits are to be identified with angels is confirmed by lines 10–11, where the ἄνγελοι θεοῦ are invoked to enact vengeance against the guilty. While the representation of angels as the army of the deity is common in the Hebrew Bible, it should be noted that in this context the angelic powers are invoked as avengers for the ἄωρον. The term refers to the daughters

Transl. van der Horst/Newman 2008.

I.Délos. 2532 = DB MAP T#13643, #13738, #13739. See also Gager 1992, no. 87; I.Jud. Orientis I, 70 and 71. For a commentary, see Deissmann 1909, 315–326; Stuckenbruck 1995, 183–185; van der Horst/Newman 2008, 137–143; van der Horst 2013, 369.

who have died prematurely, who demand blood vengeance, and who may themselves be represented as demons. The insertion of this reference, combined with the depiction of the hands raised upward in a gesture of invocation, thus contributes to connoting these angelic spirits with an almost demonic aura.

# 6 Conclusions

The study of the divine onomastic attributes in the LXX confirms the central role played by the Greek translation in promoting the process of the deterritorialization of Yhwh and the universalization of his sovereignty. The god of the LXX is a heavenly power who does not reside permanently among humans, as passages such as Exod 25:8 and Deut 31:15 show. In this regard, the LXX extends both Deuteronomistic traditions and the traditions on the prohibition of the divine image found in the Hebrew Bible. Moreover, in the case of the book of Exodus, the translator had to face the difficulty of having conflictual versions of similar episodes in the Hebrew text, such as the Sinai theophanies in chapters 24 and 33, which he tried to harmonize by eliminating the direct reference to divine vision from Exod 24:10.

The weight of such traditions and their impact on the religious sensibility of Jews in Hellenistic times, as is reflected in the activity of the translators and the authors of the LXX, raise issues related to the "accessibility" of the god and of his alleged "spiritualization." However, the deity in the LXX is not yet represented as a disembodied entity, or as a god which can only be the object of a purely intellectual knowledge. In this regard, the two study cases analyzed here allow for further remarks on these issues. (1) Prohibition of the image does not necessarily mean the impossibility of seeing the deity. The study of the expression "make your face shine," rendered in Greek by ἐπιφαίνω + πρόσωπον in the Psalter, shows that in cultic contexts the vision of the god remains possible, included through the medium of his "face/countenance," and this despite the fact that such a medium had become problematic for some Jewish traditions. (2) However, the Greek expression "showing the face" does not have to be understood within the context of an opposition between an anthropomorphic or antianthropomorphic representation of Yhwh. Rather, it must be read against the background of the Greek language for divine epiphany. Neither the verb ἐπιφαίνω nor the noun ἐπιφάνεια put the accent on the form in which the deity become visible to humans, but signal the process by which the god assures his presence among humans through the manifestation of his power. By the choice of such equivalents, the translators transposed in Greek categories the same phenomenon which is described in the Hebrew Bible by the reference to Yhwh's "shining face." In this regard, both the Hebrew and the Greek expressions point to the complexity of the divine vision as a religious experience which cannot be reduced to the anthropomorphic appearance of the deity, nor read exclusively through these lenses.

(3) Moreover, the LXX turns out to be one of the earliest and richest sources for the study of the vocabulary of divine epiphany and for the indigenous uses of the notion of ἐπιφάνεια and of the verb ἐπιφαίνω to refer to a divine apparition in the Hellenistic period. In a recent article, Michaël van der Meer<sup>66</sup> emphasized the need to situate the study of visions of the divine in the LXX within the religious and historical context of the Hellenistic world. In this regard, the present study not only confirms that the LXX is embedded in such a context but also highlights how it contributed to the development of Hellenistic religious traditions.

(4) Furthermore, in both of the case studies considered here, it is difficult to identify any influence of so-called Greek "rationalism," and even less of Platonism, on the translators. Yet the study of the attribute "Lord of spirits" does reveal a spiritualization of the god, but one of a different kind. It points towards (5) a conflation between the notion of spirits and that of angels and towards the representation of Yhwh as the ruler of such powers, a notion which is conveyed by the attribute θεὸς τῶν πνευμάτων and by similar onomastic attributes found in the LXX of Numbers, in the book of Maccabees, and in other literature from the Second Temple period. The characterization of angels as "pneumatic" beings is to be contextualized within the changes that the notion of angel undergoes from the postexilic period, and especially in the Second Temple traditions.<sup>67</sup> The pneumatic nature that is explicitly attributed to the angels turns out to be one of the most significant and long-lasting novelties brought by the Greek translation to the religious landscape of the Hellenistic period. Accordingly, (6) on the one hand the spreading of the attribute "Lord of spirits" contributes further to the portrayal of Yhwh as standing at the top of the celestial sphere, whose hierarchy will be progressively designed by later Jewish and Christian traditions. On the other hand, the long form of the attribute, "Lord of spirits and all flesh," specifies his absolute power over the heavenly and the human realm.

# Bibliography


Van der Meer 2019.

On this, see further Angelini 2021, 273–281.


Gager, John Goodrich (1992), Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World, New York.


Higbie, Carolyn (2003), The Lindian Chronicle and the Greek Creation of their Past, Oxford.


Joosten, Jan (2008), "To See God. Conflicting Exegetical Tendencies in the Septuagint," in: Martin Karrer / Wolfgang Kraus (eds.), Die Septuaginta: Texte, Kontexte, Lebenswelten, Tübingen, 287–299.

LeBoulluec, Alain / SandevoirPierre, (2004), La Bible d'Alexandrie 2. L'Exode, Paris.


Nickelsburg, George W.E. (2001), 1 Enoch: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Minneapolis.


Plas, van der, D. (1989), "« Voir » Dieu. Quelques observations au sujet de la fonction des sens dans le culte et la dévotion de l'Égypte ancienne", in: Bulletin de la Société Française d'Égyptologie 115, 4–35.

Platt, Verity (2011), Facing the Gods: Epiphany and Representation in Graeco-Roman Art, Literature and Religion, Cambridge.

Porzia, Fabio (2022), "Nomina nuda tenemus? The notion of 'name' in ancient Levant and the Hebrew Bible", in: Anna Angelini / Christophe Nihan (eds.), Divine Names in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint and their Ancient Contexts, Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 11, 197–214.

Rigsby, Kent (1996), Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World, Berkeley.


# Lorena Pérez Yarza and Corinne Bonnet Divine Names and Bilingualism in Rome: Religious Dynamics in Multilingual Spaces

Abstract: Ancient inscriptions commemorate and perpetuate ritual interaction by fixing different forms of communication between divine recipients and human agents using specific names appropriate to the occasion and intentions. The testimonies of bilingual divine names in Rome bear witness to social strategies for invoking and representing single gods or divine configurations. As a multilingual space, Rome offers a wide range of instances where uses or needs model the divine naming process. Bilingual scenarios constitute challenging cases because the context urges human agents to elaborate valid onomastic alternatives according to their cultural understanding and repertoire. In cultic communication, divine onomastic sequences articulate various facets of a given puissance that is ritually activated. Accordingly, the use of Greek and/or Latin constitutes a pragmatic resource and stimulates divine conceptualisation in both multicultural and "multicultual" settings.

Ancient inscriptions commemorate and perpetuate the interaction initiated within the ritual – vow, dedication, consecration or other forms of communication between divine addressees and human agents.<sup>1</sup> During such a process of fixation, gods were granted specific names appropriate for the occasion and intentions in accordance with the context. It is well-known that names played a crucial role in the definition and representation of the gods, which characterised them either individually or in relation to other divinities.2 Recently, Rüpke advocated that gods do not possess inherent names but depend on the onomastics given by the addresser during the religious communication, based on the invocation and verbalisation of specific puissance divines. <sup>3</sup> This statement is shared by the ERC "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms" programme (2017–2023), which applies it to the Greek and Semitic evidence. Whether there was some sort of "permanent nucleus" for each deity or his/her very existence

This publication has received funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union's Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme (grant agreement No 741182, Project "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms"). The research has also being carried within the programme Juan de la Cierva Formación 2019, FJC2019-039450-I, and the project "Religión: el Individuo y la Communitas (RICO)", PID2020-117176GB-I00, funded by the Ministerio de Ciencia e Innovación de España.

This topic has been long studied since Usener 1896. See, more recently, from Brulé 1998 or Belayche/ Brulé 2010 to Parker 2017 and Lebreton/Bonnet 2019. Such a trend encourages the rise of projects and databases on divine onomastics: Brulé/Lebreton 2007, the BDEG (https://epiclesesgrecques.univ-rennes1.fr), the EPIDI project (Alvar 2019) and the MAP project (https://base-map-polytheisms.huma-num.fr/).

Rüpke 2015 and later Rüpke 2021, 66–83. On the concept of "puissance divine" coined by Vernant 1965, 79, see Bonnet et al. 2017.

was negotiated in each context according to the agent's knowledge and intentions is beyond the scope of this contribution; our aim is limited to analysing the bilingual, specifically Latin and Greek, inscriptions from Rome containing divine names as the result of specific social strategies.

We will not address and categorise the causes of religious translation of foreign names, as Ando, Marco Simón or Parker, among others, have already done so in relation to the so-called interpretatio, but rather we will concentrate on attestations of bilingual divine names as a hint to divine representation and conceptualisation.<sup>4</sup> In fact, bilingual scenarios constitute challenging cases in which the social context incites human agents to reflect on valid alternatives for naming the divine in accordance to their understanding and cultural repertoire.<sup>5</sup> Rome, where multilingual locations are numerous, offers a wide range of multilingual environments, in which different uses or needs shape the naming processes.

### 1 What is a Bilingual Text?

In religious communication, inscriptions can be found on many different supports (stone, metal, ceramic, others), in various ritual contexts (commemoration, votum, curses, etc.) and cultural backgrounds. In spaces of cross-cultural contacts, the ritual vocabulary of one language is connected to another cultural repertoire. Multilingualism is thus a common phenomenon that affects religious texts to different degrees, from monolingual inscriptions framed within a multicultural background to bilingual texts, with a whole set of nuances.

The study of such phenomena began in the second half of the twentieth century due to the advances in linguistics and sociological studies. The most influential work on cross-linguistic influence and bilingualism was Weinreich's in 1953: he studied bilingual interferences among different linguistic communities.<sup>6</sup> As Rochette's recent historiographical review observed, such an approach developed into a sociolinguistic perspective and was applied, on the one hand, to the Classical world by Kaimio, who collected multiple sources to establish a contextual qualitative analysis of Roman knowledge of the Greek language, and, on the other hand, to a broader framework by Ferguson and Fishman, who clarified the differences between bilingualism and diglossia. <sup>7</sup> After Weinreich, several studies on the symbiosis of Greek and Latin addressed

Ando 2005; Marco Simón 2013; Parker 2017, 46–52; Colin/Huck/Vanséveren 2015.

As already highlighted by Bonnet and Bianco in the case of Greek and Phoenician dedications: Bonnet/Bianco 2018.

Weinreich 1953.

Rochette 2011; Kaimio 1979; Ferguson 1959, who brought the term diglossia from Arab philologists; Fishman 1972 and Fishman 1975, who expanded the term diglossia to unrelated languages that were put in contact.

the phenomenon of bilingualism in a multicultural world, while other works, such as Boyancé and Marrou, delved into the teaching and diffusion of Greek among Romans trying to evaluate the impact of such cultural ascendancy.8

The following decades saw the emergence of new sociolinguistic studies which focused on multiculturalism and trans-coding phenomena. They explored the process of code-switching and the reasons behind linguistic choices made by speakers in multilingual environments.<sup>9</sup> At the turn of the millennium, scholars such as Biville introduced these concepts into the field of classical studies and provided new insights into language interactions, which turned out to be especially useful in the analysis of inscriptions.10 Such studies and others, including those of Dikey and Rochette,11 resulted in a paradigm shift, with a direct impact on the epigraphic field: Wenskus' works and, above all, Adams' publications introduced the code-switching approach and identified different types of bilingual inscriptions.12

Adams spread the general idea that bilingualism cannot be reduced to the influence or imposition of one language on another. In the epigraphic evidence, two main practices surfaced: 1. a translation between two texts, i.e. bilingual inscriptions; 2. the introduction of foreign linguistic elements into a monolingual text, i.e. code-switching, due to various factors ranging from linguistic interferences to specific ritual constraints or objectives. Adams defines the code-switching as "the practice of switching between two languages in the course of a single utterance", while admitting that "code-switching has emerged in recent years as the most problematic feature of bilinguals' performance". <sup>13</sup> This issue encouraged attempts to categorise the practice theoretically and sparked the epigraphic debate with contributions such as that of Mullen and James on multilingualism and the sub-categories of bilingual inscriptions. In fact, they distinguish "'bi-version bilingual texts' – that is, inscriptions with two texts in separate languages – versus 'texts displaying bilingual phenomena' that is, inscriptions which constitute a single text that shows code-switching, interference or borrowing between two languages". <sup>14</sup> They established a basic terminological consensus that Mullen could apply to specific studies such as the coexistence of Greek, Latin and Celtic in southern Gaul.15

Turning to Adams, he detects three main types of bilingual manifestations:<sup>16</sup> code-switching, linguistic borrowing and interference. The former, adapted from

Boyancé 1956; Marrou 1965, 374–388, whose original edition is from 1950.

Jacobson 1990; Myers-Scotton 1993.

Biville 2001–2003, who later emphasises the epigraphical sources in Biville 2008.

Rochette 1997; Dickey 2003, who delved into the question of linguistic competence and the sociolinguistic level in order to explain the phenomenon of bilingualism.

Wenskus 1993; Adams 2003, although some of his ideas were already present in Adams/Janse/ Swain 2002, 298–331.

Adams 2003, xx.

Mullen/James 2012, 83.

Mullen 2013.

Adams 2003, 21–25.

sociolinguistic studies, is technically divided into tag-switching, inter-sentential switching and intra-sentential-switching to capture a range of possibilities from the introduction of single items (tag) to the introduction of whole lines (inter-sentential) into the primary language. However, Mullen emphasises the lack of clear boundaries between these technical concepts as they respond to a fluid continuum already observed by linguistic studies. Given the absence of alternative approaches, these terms are still used today, despite the fact, as Giulia Tozzi rightly pinpointed, that bilingualism "comprende pertanto ogni tipo di situazione che registri la compresenza di diversi codici linguistici o l'interazione tra due varietà linguistiche funzionalmente differenziate". 17 Her work includes a reflection on the social milieu and the limitations of a hyperspecialised terminology. She proposes to use a less rigid methodological grid and identifies four different instances in the case of Rome: bilingual inscriptions in senso stretto that present an identical translation or minor variations; inscriptions with different texts juxtaposed; Latin or Greek texts that include words or expressions from the other language; and Latin texts that are entirely written in the Greek alphabet (as well as some opposite cases). Tozzi's classification, which departs from the previous terminology, also stresses the need to consider the cultural framework, which should be a central aspect of the categorisation of bilingual inscriptions.

Modern linguistic studies18 have in fact pointed out that there are many facets of language contact and bilingualism. Migration is a different context from the influence of a lingua franca, for example, and may result in bilingual expressions of very different forms – whether written or oral. More recently, Cacoullos and Travis have drawn attention to the socio-linguistic scope of bilingualism (and multilingualism). Their study on the adoption of a lingua franca and languages of prestige both by individuals and groups (monolingual or living in a context of diglossia) shed significant light on bilingual realities. For instance, they explored the impact of language contact on the production of internal linguistic variations.<sup>19</sup>

Such an approach leaves behind the focus on formal categorisation of bilingual inscriptions and invites us to study bilingualism as a social phenomenon in the context of multiple scenarios. Understood in terms of social rather than morphological dynamics, these situations produce bilingual expressions of many different kinds, from translation to tag-switching, from morphological interferences to different degrees of linguistic imbrication, which Tozzi recently considered,<sup>20</sup> and can generate anomalous forms within the same language. The recognition of multiple levels of linguistic contact and interference, as well as the attempt to address bilingualism more thoroughly in the ancient world, has led to some difficulties in categorising these

Tozzi 2019, 412.

Cf. Raymond 2010.

Cacoullos/Travis 2018.

Tozzi 2019, 412.

processes. The complex explanation of code-switching as a distinct phenomenon,<sup>21</sup> or the attempt to delimit diglossia in Antiquity in a theoretical way, reflect this uncomfortable theoretical framework. In this respect, studies on divine names may be useful because they are underexploited in that perspective and can complement investigations of bilingual phenomena by studying divine onomastic elements as potential multicultural operators.22

This article will therefore study the linguistic and religious imbrication in the city of Rome and explore bilingual phenomena as manifestations of social contacts in a multicultural environment. We will focus on inscriptions dealing with religious communication and ritual functions. How do bilingual compositions of religious texts work? How do they cope with bilingual divine names which play a crucial role in the interaction? Multiple strategies will be examined: minor changes or equivalences, absence in one of the two languages, complementary expressions with a divine denomination divided between two languages, creation of abbreviations that work as technical tags, etc. These different types of bilingual interaction, as classified by Adams and Mullen, will allow us to scrutinise the representation and conceptualisation of the divine in the "lived religion" of the global Roman society.

# 2 A Panorama of Bilingual Religious Attestations in Rome

Rome is a city where it is easy to find people, languages and cultures in contact. Latin is the principal language and, secondarily, Greek, which was used by numerous communities in and from the Eastern Mediterranean and had notable cultural prestige. In addition, other languages were mobilised by migrant groups who settled in the capital and often developed diasporic cults,23 such as the Jewish community or the Palmyrene one in Trastevere, which dedicated various inscriptions in Greek and Palmyrene.<sup>24</sup>

Bilingual inscriptions from Rome, with a combination of Latin and a different language, appear in various contexts of interaction with the gods. Excluding the cases where only the writing system changes or isolated Latin borrowings are introduced into the Greek, which are impossible to quantify,<sup>25</sup> Rome offers around 100 cases of bilingual inscriptions with religious content. Translations and equivalences are more or less accurate due to a combination of three factors: technical limitations, respect

Adams 2003; Mullen 2012, 18–21 and, earlier and in different words, Langslow 2002, 42.

Bonnet/Bianco 2018, 40.

Woolf 2017.

On Jewish communities, Rochette 2008. On Palmyrene, Fowlkes-Childs 2016; Bonnet 2018.

Adams 2003, 493 points to this phenomenon with several examples, including Christian and nonreligious inscriptions.

for the habits of each language (e.g. the dating system) or an attempt to adapt some proper elements from the original linguistic and religious sphere to a new cultural framework. An excellent example is the dedication of the Roman citizen Tiberius Claudius Felix, native of Palmyra, to Soli Sanctissimo in Latin, and to "Malakbel and the gods of Tadmor [= Palmyra]", in Palmyrene (lml[k]bl wlʾlhy tdmr).<sup>26</sup> The difference between the two languages is accentuated by the fact that the dedicant appears in Latin as part of a familiar group together with his wife Claudia Helpis and his son Tiberius Claudius Alypus, while the Semitic version runs: ṭbrys qlwdys plqsy wtdmryʾ, that is, "Tiberius Claudius Felix and the Tadmoreans [= Palmyrenians]". <sup>27</sup> The difference in the divine names may be due to the lack of an appropriate Latin correspondent for Malakbel, but it also reformulates the semantic scope of the gods invoked (Sol, a universal god, versus the local gods of Palmyra). Thus, the two different onomastic sequences render the deity from diverse angles. In another case, Hercules Defensor corresponds to Herakles Alexikakos, <sup>28</sup> with a subtle variation since both sequences convey the same basic meaning but with some nuances that facilitate the identification of the specific divine interlocutor that the cultores were trying to activate.

Bilingual inscriptions with complementary content may show traits of technification, by resorting to code-switching, by minimising the contribution of a language to a technical formulation or even by performing a lexical borrowing, which could take the form (strictly speaking) of tag-switching according to Adam's classification. Lexical borrowings from the agents' local idioms are quite frequent in the religious horizon of the Roman Empire, although resorting to etymological studies as a means of understanding ancient theonyms and epithets is not without risks.<sup>29</sup> There are also more developed texts where the semantic scope of the indigenous divine denomination remains somewhat unaltered. Such is the case with the Lusitanian religious inscriptions from the Western Iberian Peninsula, where the naming of the gods resorts to Lusitanian lexemes and inflection, while the remaining text is in Latin.30 This type of bilingualism fulfils a complementary function, either because of the proximity of the dedicants to both languages and cultures (as in the case of funerary inscriptions or dedications of late Roman senators) or, more notably, because of the convenience of invoking the god in a language that is supposed to be familiar to the divinity.<sup>31</sup> In some Roman cases, such as the ex oraculo set of inscriptions from the Roman Forum in the 2nd century CE, this explanation needs be taken into account. Code-switching may perform a ritual function in naming the gods with a precise and efficient form.

CIL VI, 710 (= CIL VI, 30817; ILS, 4337; DB MAP S#13867); Houston 1990; Bonnet 2018, 237.

DB MAP T#17364.

IGR I, 82 (= CIL 06, 309; IG XIV, 1000 I; MAP DB S#13867).

See Vallejo 2021 for the case of Hispania.

Estarán Tolosa 2016, 36, 75, 89, 269.

García/Del Prete 2019, and more specifically, Estarán Tolosa 2019.

The technical value of code-switching can go so far that the original structure of the language is lost; the divine name becomes a tag or an abbreviation within the main language. Such a "technical formulation" appears in a funerary inscription, where Marcus Ulpius Alexander commissions a Greek text, but expresses the measurements of the tomb in Latin.32 This technicality derived from a diglossia which may also affect the system of divine naming. For instance, there are numerous cases where "DM", for D(iis) M(anibus), heads bilingual Greek inscriptions in a way that differs little from the measures of the grave expressed by Marcus Ulpius Alexander. This feature is clearly due to the dominance of the Latin domain in the Roman funerary world.

### 3 Funerary Dedications to the Underworld Gods

The high number of funerary inscriptions, within the total amount of bilingual texts, can help us to explore the mechanisms of religious adaptation in a multicultural context. In a similar way to "DM" for Dis Manibus in a Greek text, a funerary religious diglossia is manifested by the abundant dedications to the θεοῖς καταχθονίοις, which not only appear in nine bilingual cases33 but can also be extended to more than three hundred instances in monolingual inscriptions from the city of Rome. Such Greek naming of the infernal gods, which in bilingual inscriptions seems identified with the Manes, comes as a surprise because it constitutes a much bigger percentage than similar cases from other parts of the Roman Empire where Greek was the dominant tongue.34

The epigraphic typology that offers the most examples for the analysis of religious inscriptions in two languages is in fact funerary inscriptions containing references to the Manes gods/θεοῖς καταχ θονίοις or sets of similar divinities. This group, which usually conveys a more familiar or intimate character, presents 75 cases for the city of Rome, and 23 additional funerary inscriptions that should be discarded for various reasons, namely due to the alternation of the script without changing the language, such as mentions to the Manes gods in Latin inscriptions written with Greek letters,35 or due to the numerous examples of reused slabs – usually opisthograph – which bear unrelated texts in Greek and Latin, thus creating a false appearance of a bilingual dedication.36 The bilingual inscriptions addressed to the Manes gods show Roman citizens, individuals

CIL VI, 29134 (= IGUR II, 856).

The cases are: CIL VI, 07705, 10939, 10971, 19954, 27878; IG XIV, 1989; ICUR X, 27048; and IGUR III, 1238. In addition, it is possible to add to this set CIL VI, 10868, which we will analyse below.

The influence of Latin funerary practice on Greek inscriptions in the city of Rome was already suggested by Tzentikopoulos 2007, 16, 203–204. Later, Mullen 2011, 532, 538 included a similar suggestion as part of the cases in which Latin epigraphy influenced Greek inscriptions together with Roman laws.

CIL VI, 35454 (= IGUR II, 980) and CIL VI, 20294 (= IG XIV, 1692; IGUR II, 616).

Examples are CIL VI, 3144 (= IGUR II, 559) or CIL VI, 6167 (= IG XIV, 2071; IGUR II, 1011).

with Greek onomastics as well as freedmen or slaves in a multilingual reality where prestige and communication with Greek speakers seem to justify the selection of languages. There are however intermediate cases that can illustrate the difficulty in establishing a clear boundary: the opisthograph tabula CIL VI, 10868, which we have not included in the record of bilingual funerary inscriptions.37 On the obverse, Aelius Byrrus honours his deceased wife Aelia Crispina and invokes the Manes gods, while the reverse includes a Greek dedication to the sophist (σοφιστῆι) Ailios Severos and the Theoi Katachthonioi [Θ(εοῖς) Κ(αταχθονίοις)], "the underworld gods". All three characters present a similar nomen and could be relatives, although IGUR II records a long series of dedications to the Ailii/Aelii (278 to 309), who also lack the tria nomina, so their citizenship status remains unclear. However, it is striking how the inscription for the spouse recourses to Latin language whereas the epitaph of the sophist is in Greek, possibly because of his activity and the intellectual prestige of Greek in philosophy. The same is true for the funerary monument of Quintus Sulpicius Maximus, a boy who died at the age of eleven, found in via Salaria. The monument shows, in a central niche enclosing a statue, the deceased Maximus with a Latin text mentioning the dead, the Manes gods and three versified Greek texts, namely two elegiac epigrams and a poem with which the young man competed in the time of Domitian and where Helios is invoked as Ἡμετέρου κόσμοι|ο φαεσφόρον ἁρμε|λατῆρα, "the Light-bearing charioteer of our world". <sup>38</sup> The recourse to Greek for personal reasons appears in another funerary inscription, although it does not refer to the Manes gods: Aelia Ehorte's salutation to Kyris (Κύρι) resorts to tag-switching since she greets the deceased in Greek with the usual formula χαῖρε, while the inscription continues in Latin with a dedication to an amiable/lovely god (deo Amabili), which could be an euphemism for Hades.39 Such a use of Greek, reduced to isolated names or funerary formulae, is a common feature in some contextual code-switching where Latin imperial inscriptions include Greek epigrammata to honour the deceased, especially if they come from the Greek-speaking area.40

The case of the epigrams shows the flexibility of effective bilingualism, but the properly "bilingual" inscriptions, with a translation of content, account for only 7 of the 75 cases we have recorded. At the same time, 72 cases<sup>41</sup> present code-switching features which can be classified into three categories: religious, formulistic or other. The latter case includes alterations due to direct communication with the deceased, such as Kyris' epitaph mentioned above. Formulistic alterations correspond to the

Also, IGUR II, 296.

CIL VI, 33976 (= IG XIV, 2012; IGUR III, 1336). For Helios and other gods invoked in the poetic texts, see DB MAP T#17374–17379.

CIL VI, 112 (= IGUR I, 140; IG XIV, 959; DB MAP T#17826).

E.g., CIL VI, 9533 (= IG XIV, 1497; IGUR III, 1174). This phenomenon was highlighted by Tozzi 2019, 412 as the clearest example of complementary texts.

The two numbers add up to more than seventy-five instances because there are some inscriptions that include both phenomena, as in CIL VI, 10971 (= IGUR III, 1147).

introduction of some typical epigraphic votive formulas from one language in different forms which span from the inclusion of closing Greek funerary formulas in Latin42 to striking cases such as CIL VI, 35434,<sup>43</sup> where the inscription reads: Ἡρακλέων Ἡλι| οδώρῳ ἀδελφ|ῷ φηκιτ βενεμερε|τι [hedera] Δεις Μανιβους, "Herakleon for Helidoros (his) brother did it with good will, to the Manes gods". The dedication includes the Latin form fecit and benemerenti in a grammatical arrangement, which, together with the divine dedication to the Manes, also in an unusual position, distorts the basic language of the text, i.e. Greek, to such an extent that the dedication sounds more Latin than Greek. In addition, the Latin formula Δεις Μανιβους, which retains its Latin inflection in Greek but appears in the position of a final salutation, corresponds to the first of the three instances, the religious code-switching. Other epigrams appear in funerary dedications that do not mention the Manes gods or similar divinities but use the code-switching as a personal tribute to the deceased, as in the Latin dedication of two freedmen, Atimetus and Anterotianus, to Claudia Homonoea, the deceased wife of the former and friend of the latter, who is said to be "more golden than Kypris herself" in a Greek epigram.44

The vast majority of the 75 funerary inscriptions collected in this research present an alternation of code by including divine onomastic formulae in Greek and Latin, which constitute a potentially bidirectional phenomenon. Concretely however, the cases show an absolute predominance of the introduction of the Latin Dis Manibus in the Greek epigraphy since the reverse situation is so far unattested except for one instance.45 The peculiar configuration of funerary inscriptions is probably due to their location in Rome and the existence of a strong funerary tradition in the Latin world.

The bilingual inscriptions which translate religious textual content into a second language show three types of adaptation for the funerary gods: 1) the Manes gods retain their Latin form when they change language; 2) they are translated as Theoi Katachthonioi (or Katachthonioi Theoi and other variants) or 3) they are omitted in the Greek text because the reference to the funerary gods is present in the heading as a sort of common label.<sup>46</sup> DM, ΔΜ or ΘΚ are abbreviations related to a process of technification of religious formulae, which also affected dedications to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, extensively addressed under the formula IOM.<sup>47</sup> The DM formula constitutes the clearest case of tag-switching or technic switching in divine formulae:

IGUR II, 902, or even outside Rome, as in AE 1947, 84.

Such is the case of CIL VI, 10889 (= IGUR II, 308).

Also, in IGUR II, 570.

IGUR III, 1250 (= CIL VI, 12652; DB MAP T#18144): αὐτῆς χρυσοτέρη Κύπριδος.

Parker 2017, 39 noticed that it is the usual tendency in dedications from bilingual environments, as we shall see later in other types of religious inscriptions. The only exception for funerary cases is CIL VI, 28862, a Latin inscription addressed to Θ(εοῖς) Χ(θονίοις).

Raepsaet-Charlier 2001, 143–144 described the phenomenon for Germania Superior.

whereas part of the linguistic information does not appear explicitly, DM manages to convey the semantic message in an abbreviated form into a multilingual space. In a few cases, such as the Herakleon dedication mentioned above, the divine onomastic sequence remains complete (Δεις Μανιβους) but is adapted to the Greek spelling, although it more commonly appears under the abbreviated form, ΔΜ, according to the Latin manner, as in the case of Polykleitos.<sup>48</sup>

The number of attested dedications D(is) M(anibus) in Greek texts, but also Latin texts with some Greek elements, by both Roman citizens49 and non-citizens50 constitute the clearest example of a Latin divine concept transported into Greek inscriptions.51 In some instances, the onomastic sequence is not translated into the secondary text, a peculiarity which may indicate that Dis Manibus became a common reference that crossed the linguistic barrier. In other words, these invocations52 evidence the value conveyed by divine names as a potentially language-independent conceptual construct.

To conclude on that point, the different ways of addressing the underworld gods in Rome makes it possible to track social parameters and cultural understanding in the emic representations of the divine. We observe a hyper-abundance of non-bilingual Greek dedications to the Theois Katachthoniois, but also 22 cases of alternative formulae for the rendering of the Manes gods, such as the dedications to Somnus Aeternalis53 or to Θεοῖς Δαίμοσιν, often abbreviated ΘΔ (e.g. IGUR II, 316)<sup>54</sup> according to the model DM.55 These designations are present in the whole Empire56 as well as the Theoi Katachthonioi, although Rome houses inscriptions with suggestive variations from Θ(εοῖς) Χ(θονίοις) (CIL VI, 28862) to Δ(αίμοσι) Κ(αταχθονίοις) (IGUR III, 1347), or Θεοῖς καὶ Δαί|

AE 2008, 235: Δ(ις) Μ(ανιβους) | Πολύκλει|τος τῇ γλυ|κυτάτῃ | θυγατρὶ | Θαΐδι εἰς μ|νήμην ἐ̣|[ποίησεν], trans. "To the Manes gods, Polykletos did it of his own free will to his sweet daughter Thais". Other similar instances are IG XIV, 1413; IG XIV, 1433 or IGUR II, 890.

CIL VI, 18175 (= IGUR III, 1210).

IG XIV, 1812 (= IGUR II, 751).

Already noticed by Tozzi 2019, 419–420. Other inscriptions can be included in this set – Latin texts with Greek spelling and calling to the Manes gods – such as IG XIV, 1492, 2096a; CIL VI, 20294, 24475, 27515, 35454.

The same logic appears on second-century CE altars with short bilingual inscriptions found in the Roman forum: CIL VI, 106 (= IGUR I, 95); CIL VI, 105 (= IGUR I, 94); CIL VI. 427 (= IGUR I, 96), and CIL VI, 106 (= IGUR I, 97). See the section below.

IGUR II, 310 = CIL VI, 11082.

IGUR II, 544, 700 or 991; IG XIV, 938.

IGUR II, in cases 291, 297, 316 (Θε Δ), 345, 550, 568, 554, 594, 600, 727, 876 (Θε Δ), 997; IGUR III, 1240.

It is a Greek-adapted formula typical of the Latin sphere as seen in IG Spain Portugal Appendix II, 5, in Carmona; SEG 48, 1283, in Ravenna; CIL XII, 3672 (= IG XIV, 2506) in Nimes; IG XIV, 941 in Portus (Θεοῖς καὶ Δαί|μοσιν) as well as IG Porto 37. In the Greek world, we find some similar cases at Arsinoe in a clearly bilingual setting (AE 1899, 173; CIL III, 14179; CIL III, 14180). Other cases are also attested during the Roman Empire, as in Moesia Superior (IMS II, 311 and 312) or Macedonia (CIL III, 7318), whose choice of divine name is close to the funerary formulation of Δαίμοσιν ἀγαθοῖς from Cyprus (SEG 25, 1088).

μοσι (SEG 41, 867), which attempt to express the Roman conception of the Manes gods in Greek: chtonic divine powers related to the underworld and dead people.57 Such examples bear witness to how Greek divine names were conveying a specific categorisation of infernal divinities and how the Roman funerary divine conceptualisation remained predominant since approximately two thirds of the relevant cases are attested in Italy. The various naming strategies for funerary gods are basically rooted in the long-standing contact between Latin and Greek languages and cultures.

# 4 Religious Inscriptions With Institutional Background

In this section we will deal with three groups of inscriptions that fit into a relevant institutional framework. The most notorious set corresponds to four altars found in or near the Roman forum with bilingual inscriptions containing the name of the divine addressee in Greek and the Latin formula ex oraculo.<sup>58</sup>


Moretti linked the first two cases, found next to the Phokas column, to the last two altars, whose association is less clear. The dedication to Zeus Patrios, the "Ancestral Zeus", which was found in S. Valentino dei Mercanti, near the Forum, is now lost. The altar of Zeus Hypatos, "Zeus the Supreme", which was found between the Curia and the Basilica Aemilia, is broken and does not contain the Latin formula.63 In the first two cases, the altars have similar carvings and the same calligraphy, and they present a parallel text from the second half of the second century, which, as Moretti, Aronen and later Kajava pointed out, was probably associated with the Antonine plague that came after the Parthian wars (166 CE). This event resonates with the protective function of Athena, who is called ἀποτροπαίαι, "to Athena Averter of evil", and with the Ἀπωσικά-

In the same way, we find the formula Δ(αίμοσι) Χ(θονίοις) in Segesta, Sicily, probably in Roman times (IG XIV, 294), as well as Θ(εοῖς) Δ(αίμοσιν) in Messina (I.Messina, 4), and Θ(εοῖς) Κ(αταχθονίοις) Δ(αίμοσιν) in Drepanum (SEG 52, 903, 905).

This group was already pointed out by Moretti in IGUR I and later revised by Aronen 1983.

CIL VI, 106 (= DB MAP S#13839).

CIL VI, 105 (=DB MAP S#13844).

CIL VI, 427 (=DB MAP S#13842).

IG XIV, 994 (=DB MAP S#13842).

Aronen 1983, 5–6; Kajava 2007.

κοις θεοῖς, "to the gods who repel evil", that Aroren hypothetically associates with the Dioscuri.64 These inscriptions are so brief that it is difficult to say whether their primary language was Greek or Latin. Aroren's hypothesis that the Latin inscription CIL VI 29850 (from the Basilica Giulia) was part of this group of altars, which would have been commissioned by the Roman Senate, implies that Latin would have been the primary language.65 Latin is clearly used in the technical expression (ex oraculo) indicating the oracular authority from which the invocation comes, whereas the name of the gods is systematically written in Greek. Did the Greek names derive from a precise ritual context, which Kajava indicates as the famous oracle of Klaros in Asia Minor?<sup>66</sup> In any case, a public institution appears to call upon different gods with similar functionality, that is the protection from an evil, to which is added a supreme Zeus who, from the Roman institutional point of view, may be an equivalent of Juppiter Capitolinus.

A further, more heterogeneous group is that of public treaties and inscriptions dedicated by foreign institutions during the second and first centuries BCE. This group consists of two inscriptions commemorating a diplomatic treaty and an additional one issued by a member of the Cappadocian royal family. In the first case, Mellor argues that the dedication comes from the Lycian cities,67 which were in a precarious position due to the Ptolemaic expansion and the clashes with Rhodes in the Aegean. The inscription commemorates a Roman intervention between 168 and 151 BCE with a dedication to Iovei Capitolino in its archaic form and the Roman people (populo romano). The Latin formulation is translated into Greek as a dedication to Zeus Kapetolios and the Demos of the Romans (Διὶ Καπετωλίωι καὶ τῶι δήμωι τῶ[ι] | ʽΡωμαίων).68 The Greek epithet Καπετωλίωι integrates the Roman cultural framework into a Greek logic, which is more clearly seen in the transposition of the Latin accusative Roma(m) into δημ[ο]|κρατίαν τὴν ʽΡώμην to denote the State authority. The Jupiterian designation, which is appropriate to the official frame of the treaty, is repeated in the second and fragmentary inscription of this group dedicated to Rome and Jupiter Capitolinus.69 This plaque from the first half of the first century BCE, which was found in vicolo Orbitelli in the Campus Martius, bears the dedication of an allied demos (Δήμος συμμμάχος) that honours Juppiter Capitolinus and Roma ([Iovi Capit]olino et Ro[mae]). The Greek counterpart of the

Aronen 1983.

Also in AE 2007, 196: Senatus populusqu[e Romanus, ex] | oraculo.

Kajava 2007, 128.

Mellor 1978, 321.

CIL VI 372 (= CIL VI, 30920; IG XIV 986; IGUR I, 5, DB MAP #13710): "[Ab co]muni restitutei in maiorum leibert[atem] | [Lucei] Roma(m) Iovei Capitolino et populo Romano v[irtutis] | benivolentiae beneficique causa erga Lucios ab comun[i]. | Λυκίων τὸ κοινὸν κομισάμενον τὴν πάτριον δημ[ο]|κρατίαν τὴν ʽΡώμην Διὶ Καπετωλίωι καὶ τῶι δήμωι τῶ[ι] | ʽΡωμαίων ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεν καὶ εὐνοίας καὶ εὐεργεσίας | τῆς εἰς τὸ κοινὸν τὸ Λυκίων".

Reconstructed from the fragments of CIL VI, 30921 30923, 30928a-b, it is assembled in CIL I² 732 (= DB MAP S#13708).

divine names can be reconstructed by the few letters preserved and the parallelism with the previous inscription: Διὶ Καπετωλίωι καὶ Ῥώμηι. <sup>70</sup> These bilingual inscriptions show precise translations of the initial content and a slight adaptation to the cultural framework of the secondary language.

The Late Republican dedication from Arizobanes, probably a member of the Cappadocian royal family, can be read in a similar manner. It was addressed to Juppiter Optumus Maxumus, with his full onomastic sequence, in a text that has been reconstructed from two fragments where the Greek part is barely preserved in some letters from line 6.<sup>71</sup> Although the specific nature of this inscription is unclear, the piece seems to have been written for its public exhibition and was found in the area sacra di S. Omobono, between the Forum Romanum and the Janus temple under the Capitoline Hill, a location which points to an institutional dimension.

At the interface between the institutional and the private dimension, we find the third set of inscriptions: two altars dedicated by the Papiria gens at some point of the second century CE and found on the Esquiline, probably in the Orti Santarelii in 1663:

1. Silvano | custodi | Papiriì // Σιλβανῶι | φύλακι | Παπείριοι. 72 To Silvanus Guard, the Papirii (dedicated) // To Silvanos Guard, the Papeiroi (dedicated).

2. Herculi | defensori | Papirii // Ἡρακλεῖ | ἀλεξι |κάκωι | Παπείρι | οι. 73 To Hercules Protector, the Papirii (dedicated) // To Herakles Averter of evil, the Papeiroi (dedicated).

As Wojciechowski pointed out,74 the Papiria gens was a family of senatorial rank that dedicated those altars in a domestic context. Just like the ex oraculo altars, this group shares the same support (stone, carving, shape) and calligraphy since, in both cases, the Latin dedication is engraved on the front face and the Greek one on the rear face. The onomastic sequence of the gods is similar: the Roman name together with an epithet first, followed by a Greek "translation" of both elements. In the case of Silvanus, the two onomastic attributes (custos and phulax) express the idea of protection given to a place or a person, presumably the domus Papirii and the family, where the altar was placed. As far as Hercules is concerned, the Latin epithet (defensor) refers to a defensive-protective scope similar to Silvanus' one, whereas the Greek alexikakos claims for a specific protection against evil. The four texts share an obvious common goal: the protection of the place, the family and the whole household. Did they resort to Greek because of the prestige of the Hellenic culture and the status of the senatorial class? In the

Cf. DB MAP T#17053.

Lintott 1978, 139; Del Monaco 2013, 587–589 (= CIL VI, 30924; SEG 15, 612).

IGR I, 82 (= CIL VI, 310; IGUR I, 171; DB MAP S#13713).

CIL VI, 309 (= IGUR, I, 195; DB MAP S#13732).

Wojciechowski 2013.

direct environment of the texts, there is no hint to a real confluence of speakers of Latin and Greek. Nonetheless, the gods were approached in a bilingual manner.

# 5 Cultural Prestige or Religious Specialisation? Other Uses of Bilingual Inscriptions

The picture of religious inscriptions must be completed by some examples belonging to less institutional spheres, where the agent's social context and private uses acquire a greater significance. In this perspective, we can detect more clearly a double rationale for bilingualism, namely the need to achieve a more specialised or technical meaning, and the ability to express religious communication in a more prestigious way.

An obvious field for specialisation can be found in the defixiones of Rome, which provide examples of code-switching fully integrated into the religious message, such as in the curse from the second century against Praeseticius, a miller/baker, son of Arsella, where the voces magicae, written in Greek, and the term Εὐλάμων, are followed by the imperative κάτεχε, "hold fast". The curse is then completed by a Latin text invoking Pluto as ruler of the dead (Plutoni praeposito mortuorum).75 The introduction of a term that functions as a technical "tag" is even more evident in the defixio AE 2008, 225 from Anna Perenna's fountain, where the divine appellation reads as follows: Sete | Mnu | S(Η) | Θ. Here, the agent employed a double invocation to Seth and Mnevis, with a second mention of Seth in Greek with the Latin S at the beginning.<sup>76</sup> The Greek spelling of the name was probably considered to be more efficient in the ritual performance. In other occasions, bilingual expressions provide a correspondence for Latin official titles, for calendar references and others. As we shall see in the following cases which do not contain a translation, Greek seems sometimes to be more adapted for personal messages or religious addresses. Along with the need for religious precision and cultural prestige, these parameters create, in theory, infinite combinations within a vast spectrum of human-divine interactions.

On the other hand, bilingualism can be restricted to a formula that is added to a text without affecting the religious message. Such is the case in Rome for the Latin dedication [Imp(eratoris)? C]aesa[ris M(arci)] A[nt]onii Gordiani Aug(usti) | Furiae Sabiniae Tranquillinae Aug(ustae) followed by a Greek dedication to Zeus Bronton (Διὶ Βροντῶντι) made by Aurelius Lampo and his mother, who dedicated a bust/mask of the invincible Neotera (τ̣ὴν̣ προτομὴν τῆς ἀνεικήτου Νεωτέρας) in 241–244 CE.<sup>77</sup> More than a century later, Sabine, who commemorates the taurobolium and erection of an

CIL VI, 33899. Cf. Kropp 2008, nr. 1.4.4/5. Mastrocinque 2005 interprets the term Εὐλάμων as a borrowing from the Aramaic or Hebrew ʿlm, "eternity".

Blänsdorf 2009, 218; DB MAP T#17022.

IGUR I, 138 (= AE 1935, 128; DB MAP T#13848).

altar to Attis and Rhea in Greek, memorialises the institution of rites to Demeter and fearful Hecate (Δηοῦς καὶ φοβερὰς Ἑκάτης) in a mysterical context, with a closing consular year (377 CE) expressed in Latin.<sup>78</sup> In the late fourth century it was fashionable for the senatorial elite to promote pagan rituals in a conservative form, hence the address to Attis and Rhea in Greek rather than in Latin.<sup>79</sup>

During the same period, the bilingual dedication of Petronius Apollodorus, who is holder of several priesthoods such as Pater of Deus Invictus Mithras, and his wife Rufia Volusiana, praises Magna Mater in Greek, through the celebration of the mysteries of Rhea, identified as mother of all (Μητέρι τῇ πάντων 'Ρείῃ), and Attis, the "highest god and who encompasses everything, who makes germinate at every season all the more holy things" (Ἄττει θ' ὑψίστῳ καὶ συ[νέχο]ντι τὸ πᾶν | τῷ πᾶσιν καιροῖς θεμε [ρώτε]ρα πάντα φύοντι).<sup>80</sup> The altar of Petronius and Rufina, contrary to the previous case, introduces a code-switching in Greek only for the onomastic sequences of the gods and the cultic commemoration, whereas the rest of the information remains in Latin (dedicants, motif, dating and closure in lines 7–14). The altar, now lost, dates from 270 CE and represented Cybele-Mater Magna on the left side, holding a tympanum and driving a biga drawn by lions together with a pine tree in the upper register. In the lower register of the relief, the bull of the taurobolium was depicted while, on the right side, Attis stood, holding a syrinx, a pair of cymbals and a pedum by a ram and a pine tree. The iconography matches the divine naming and the ritual context of the epigraphic commemoration, while the text informs on late connections between Cybele, Mater Magna and Rhea. The Greek is thus mobilised to account for a specific field of expertise.

Moreover, prestige and technicality are sometimes intertwined, as in the poetic code-switching that we have seen in Greek funerary epigrams. The invocation to Hermes by a person called Attis on a Herma in the second century CE constitutes another good example.<sup>81</sup> The text presents a bilingual polymetric text inscribed on two sides: on the frontal face, a bilingual text in iambic (two Latin verses) and dactylic verses (Greek), on the right side, a bilingual text consisting of two hexameters and three Latin phalaecian hendecasyllables. In the verses, Attis invokes the protection of Hermes, for himself, his friends and family. Hermes, who is invoked in Greek, also receives a poetic Latin denomination in relation with his origin and mythology as Lucri repertor atque sermonis dator | infa(n)s . . . Cyllenius, "Inventor of profit, giver of language, the child . . . of Cyllene". The text continues with the Greek petition and ends with the Latin poetic description of the god as Interpres divum, caeli terraeq(ue) | mea-

CIL VI, 30966 (= IG XIV, 1019; IGUR I, 128; DB MAP S#13675).

Such phenomena have been studied mainly through the figure of Vettius Agorius Praetextatus, see Kahlos 1995, Marco Simón 2016. On the self-representation of pagan elites and their traditionalist environment, see Buchheim 2019, 141–143.

CIL VI, 509 (= IG XIV, 1018; IGUR I, 129; DB MAP S#13713).

CIL VI, 520 (= IGUR I, 161; IG XIV, 978; DB MAP S#13861).

tor | (. . .) [Caelorum incola toti]usque terrae | sermonis dator atq(ue) somniorum | Iovis nuntius et precum minister, "Mediator of the gods, traveller of the sky and the earth, (. . .) inhabitant of the heavens and of the earth, of the whole, allocator of language and of dreams, messenger of Jupiter, and bearer of prayers". The complex bilingual construction of the god makes the two languages inseparable as they complement each other in an artistic way and express the polysemic profile of Hermes.

However, a linguistic complement is not always poetic and can respond to practical reasons. For instance, Hermes, an imperial freedman and vilicus, commemorated the consecration of an altar and a crater to Nemesis in the second century CE.82 His inscription combines Greek and Latin to correctly address the goddess Nemesis according to the dedicant's dream. It opens with a Greek laudatory addressing, Μεγάλη Νέμεσις | ἡ βασιλεύουσα τοῦ κόσμ(ου), "Great Nemesis who rules the Universe", and continues with the Latin description of the goddess according to the vision, Magna Ultrix Regina Urbis, "Great Avenger, queen of the City" that the formula ex visu emphasises. Like the altars dedicated by the Papiria gens, the double text is intratextually complete and the use of a second language results in an amplification of the divine power; the Greek probably serves to express a more universal aspect of Nemesis than the more local Latin context, related with Rome.

The use of code-switching as an instrument to supplement or emphasise the praise can be observed not only in relation with the gods but also with the dead (in the epigrams) or the emperors. In 186 CE, Marcus Antonius Gaionas, a cistiber, consecrated a column to Juppiter Optimus Maximus Heliopolitanus in honour of the emperor Commodus, who is first praised in Greek and then addressed in Latin according to his official titles.83 As Dészpa states, the Greek "displays a very particular attachment and closeness" to the emperor.84 There is no bilingual divine name here because the cult of Juppiter Optimus Maximus Heliopolitanus was common among the Latin-speaking soldiers, which shows that the resource to two languages can be motivated by different reasons: social and cultural prestige, practical requirements, political background and ritual strategies. A funerary bilingual inscription for a priestess from Alexandria constitutes another case where the cultural and technical parameters are intermingled.85 Dated to approximately 100–300 CE, it describes the deceased as a "famous priestess of Bacchus Ogygius and bearer of the Goddess of the Nile" in Latin ([Ogygii Bacc]hi dei nota | [sacerd]os | [pastophorus]quae deae Nilo | [tidis] . . . ) with a Greek adaptation: πρόπο | λος Διονύσου,|[π]α̲σ̲τοφόρος τε θεᾶς Νειλώτιδος| Εἴσιδος ἁγνῆς, "Servant of Dionysus, bearer of the Goddess of the Nile, Isis, the Pure". Ogygius for Bacchus has disappeared, while the name of Isis pops up. The text opens with a funerary formula in Latin which

CIL VI, 532 (= IG XIV, 1012; IGUR I, 182; DB MAP S#13838).

CIL VI, 420 (= IG XIV, 985; IGUR I, 166; DB MAP S#13727).

Dészpa 2017, 116.

CIL VI, 32458 (= IGUR III, 1150; SIRIS 433; DB MAP S#13871). The date corresponds to the catalogue of Bricault/Dionysopoulou 2016, 6.

is not translated in Greek and then drops certain information in each language. The description of Dionysus and Isis is deployed to its full extent only in the Greek, a language that was maybe perceived as closer to the original cult from a Roman point of view.

The cultic perspective can therefore be decisive for the absence, adaptation, modification or precise translation of divine onomastic elements or ritual formulations. The language is used as a tool that helps to achieve the agents' aim by targeting specific divine addressees. In the only inscription written in Latin and Palmyrene, CIL VI, 710, that we examined above, relevant changes are visible in the transition from one language to the other. The message is adapted to the respective cultural milieux: the dedicant's family is absent from the Palmyrene version where Malakbel, a local god from Palmyra, is associated with other gods. In the Latin counterpart, Sol Sanctissimus appears alone and the whole family is mentioned.<sup>86</sup> The iconography emphasises the solar identification, since the altar presents a bust of a radiate Helios-Sol behind an eagle with outstretched wings, and on the sides, a charioteer with a rampant quadriga (Helios or Phosporos?) and a man bearded and veiled (Saturn?). The inscriptions, dating to the second half of the first century CE, reflect subtle strategies to express Tiberius Claudius Felix' double identity, as a Roman citizen from Palmyra trying to integrate his Syrian gods into the Roman frame to which he now belongs.87

A final example of the linguistic potential for defining and designing the gods in specific ways can be seen in the bilingual inscription issued by the imperial freedman Titus Flavius Hyginus during the Flavian or early Antonine period.88 He dedicates an altar to Soli Invicto Mithrae with a divine onomastic sequence that makes it impossible to discern whether there is one god, Sol Invictus Mithras, or two, Sol and Invictus Mithras. The Pater Lollius Rufus is nonetheless mentioned only in Greek (διὰ Λολλίου ʽΡούφου πατρὸς ἰδίου) and, in the Greek part of the text, the god is called ʽΗλίωι Μίθραι, Helios Mithras, without the "Invincible" qualification, so typical in the Roman dedications to Mithras. The Greek onomastic sequence is engraved on one line, a material feature which reinforces a reading of the formula referring to one god, Mithras, addressed as a solar divine power.

# 6 Conclusion

The bilingual religious inscriptions from Rome, with the exception of the treaties from the Republican period, span mainly from the end of the first century CE to late antiquity. Greek was at that time undoubtedly a language of prestige in Rome, and the numerous

Cf. Houston 1990; Bonnet 2018.

In the Syrian sanctuary near Porta Portese, several bilingual inscriptions, Greek-Palmyrene, and some Latin inscriptions were found. This a specific case study that deserves an ad hoc analysis. CIL VI, 732 (= IG XIV; IGUR I, 179; CIMRM, 362; DB MAP S#13854).

uses within the funerary and dedicatory inscriptions, from different social backgrounds, prove its ascendancy as a complementary lingua franca<sup>89</sup> and a means of cultural distinction. However, its use in the inscriptions is not limited to social exhibition or accessibility to technical contents. These two reasons may be combined with the need to define more adequately, even precisely, the names and attributes of the gods. The inscriptions involving the Manes gods introduced into Greek texts indicate that the dominion of a language is not absolute but rather responds to specialised fields. The code-switching for consular or other typically Latin formulae goes in the same direction. Different parameters may impact the translation/adaptation of divine names, with a whole range of strategies. In some cases, the bilingual option provides complementary messages and/or reflects an attempt to better construct and verbalise a puissance divine from two different angles, with two languages. It also happens that the name of the god is not transposed into a second language because the use of one single language allows for a better definition of the cultic background and/or the divine denomination (as in the cases of Mater Magna or instances of Manes). In some other cases, the god's definition is intratextually complete either by a complementary use of Greek and Latin (i.e. the dedication to Hermes) or because the repetition of the divine name did not appear to be useful. All in all, the cases collected here show the lack of a systematic translation and the use of fluid options over four centuries. This fact corresponds to a whole set of political and cultural needs, and to a wide range of personal situations on the part of the agents.

In the worshippers' communication with the divine, divine onomastic sequences are pivotal and articulate in different ways the various facets of a puissance, which is activated whenever necessary. In Greek and Latin, names delineate and express, with a mixture of precision and nuances, the specificity of the targeted deities; names also help to connect different gods who share similar functions and attributes (for instance a "solar" one). The use of Greek and/or Latin constitutes a pragmatic resource in specific contexts, where they work together or separately.90 The recourse to different languages also shows an effort to conceptualise the divine and share cultic habits, to a certain extent. Within the ongoing multicultural normalisation, which characterises the Imperial city of Rome, the gods are not attached to a single name or a single conception, but welcome variations, appropriations and reformulation. Our focus on bilingual religious communication shows, in fact, an accurate consciousness and knowledge regarding the complex, multifarious identity of the gods, activated by means of changing onomastic formulas. Through the divine names, the agents were able to act with the volition of specifying a generic puissance divine (in the case of IOM specified through the adjective Heliopolitanus), with a certain degree of appropriateness to the context and moment

A fact more visible through the bilingual inscriptions in Greek and a Semitic language in Rome, such is the case for the majority of Palmyrene dedications. Cf. Bonnet 2018.

The social value of a given language in its cultural milieu during the ancient world was already revised by Adams 2003b regarding the romanitas and Latin language.

(in the case of the twin altars of the Papirii) or by making an effort to describe and conceptualise a god (in the case of the dedication to Malakbel).

### Bibliography

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Aronen, Jaakko (1983), "Ἀπωσίκακοι θεοί and Ἀθάνα ἀποτροπαία in the Roman Forum. A Note on IGUR 94–95", in: Arctos. Acta Philologica Fennica, 17, 5–11.

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Blänsdorf, Jürgen (2009), "The Texts from the Fons Annae Perennae", in: Francisco Marco Simón / Richard Gordon (eds.), Magical Practice in the Latin West: Papers from the International Conference held at the University of Zaragoza, 30 Sept. – 1st Oct. 2005 (Religions of the Roman World 168), Leiden, 215–244.

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Bonnet, Corinne / Bianco, Maria (2018), "S'adresser aux dieux en deux langues. Le cas des épiclèses dans les inscriptions bilingues phéniciennes et grecques", in: Parcours anthropologiques, 13, 38–69.

Bonnet, Corinne (2018), "Gli dèi di Palmira nel cuore di Roma", in: Corinne Bonnet / Ennio Sanzi (eds.), Roma, la città degli dèi La capitale dell'Impero come laboratorio religioso, Roma, 235–249.

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# Mary R. Bachvarova Apollo Delphinios – Again

Abstract: The prehistory of the Classical Greek god Apollo is well-studied, but still a matter of debate, and the possible avenues into a better understanding are exemplified by the competing etymologies of his name. On the one hand, it is given an Indo-European etymology, which links him to the Doric institution of the apella 'band of young men'. Apollo, then, was originally an Indo-European divine kouros, with his role as leader of the chorus deriving easily from his morphology and the epithet Lykios descending from the Indo-European metaphor of a group of young men as a pack of wolves. The other etymology leaves the origin of his name unexplained, but claims a link with two Bronze Age west Anatolian gods: Appalu, who is called upon in purification rites by augurs, and the Trojan city god Appaliuna. In this case, his role as god of prophecy and his worship in various Greco-Anatolian cities, such as Miletus, is easily explained, but other salient aspects of his divine morphology are not. In this contribution, I bring in the epiclesis Delphinios to help bring the gap, connecting it to the Late Bronze Age Hattic god Telipinu, whose name has the transparent etymology "great son." While the connection was made long ago by Walter Burkert, he did not know enough about Telipinu's morphology to fully realize the implications of the equation. I revisit the kouros aspect of Apollo in the light of the current understanding of Telipinu's morphology, and I attempt to explain how and why Appaluwa was merged with Telipinu to create Apollo Delphinios.

# 1 Introduction

Even though the prehistory of the Classical Greek god Apollo is well-studied, it remains a matter of debate.1 Some give the god an Indo-European origin by linking him to the Doric apellai (political assemblies), as argued in an influential article by Walter Burkert.<sup>2</sup> Then, working from the claim that the term apella originally referred to a band of young men hunting, fighting, and raiding together, they imagine an Apollo

Unless otherwise stated, I use the transliterations of Hittite texts made available on the electronic database Konkordanz der hethitischen Keilschrifttafeln (https://www.hethport.uni-wuerz burg.de/hetkonk/). There the reader will find bibliography and discussion of the fragments booked according to their CTH number. An updated version of the catalogue is available at https://www. hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/CTH/. All translations are my own. A chance to present some elements of this paper to the Anatolian Circle at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago helped to sharpen my thinking in the final stages of writing this paper.

Burkert 1975; Heubeck 1987; Nagy 1994. Apellai as political assemblies: Luther 2006.

descended from an Indo-European divine kouros. <sup>3</sup> In this case, his role in Classical Greece as ephebe and leader of the chorus derives easily from his original morphology, and his epithet Lykeios originates in the Indo-European metaphor of a group of young men as a pack of wolves.4 However, as Robert Beekes has shown, there are no possible Indo-European etymologies via Greek that allow for a link with the Doric apellai or the Doric month Apellaion. 5

The other path to understanding leaves the origin of his name unexplained, but argues for a link with a god attested in Bronze-Age west Anatolia: Appaliuna, the Wilusan (Trojan) god mentioned in a treaty between the Hittite king Muwattalli II and his vassal Alaksandu of Wilusa (ca. 1275 BCE).6 I was the first to bring into the discussion the god Appaluwa, who is called upon in two plague rituals for an army or town carried out by west Anatolian augurs, which were found at the Hittite capital Ḫattuša.7 With this citation added to the dossier, Apollo's role as god of prophecy and his importance in Greco-Anatolian cities such as Miletus are easily explained, as is his characterization in the Iliad, where he is a bow-bearing plague god allied with the Troadic opponents of the Achaeans and able to bear the aegis of Zeus like his halfsister Athena (15.229–230, 24.20–21).<sup>8</sup> For, as I have shown, Appaluwa is a bow-hunting god belonging to or overlapping with the scribal category of <sup>d</sup> KAL, a divine type associated with bows, augurs, and the sacred kurša hunting bag that is an ancestor to the aegis.<sup>9</sup> Secondly, an Anatolian contribution to Apollo's divine morphology fits with an Anatolian origin for his epiclesis Delphinios (Cretan Delphidios) from the name of the young male agricultural divinity Telipinu. However, the merger of these two separate Anatolian divine morphologies still needs explanation.

Watkins 1995, 149, citing Peters 1989, 211–113, unpublished, non vidi. Apollo and Männerbunde: Graf 2009, 112–113. Indo-European Männerbunde: Das/Meiser 2002; McCone 1990, 203–218; Watkins 1995, 149, n. 25. Kouroi as Greek reflexes of Indo-European heroic warriors: Peters 2002.

Apollo as ephebe: Gorman 2001, 168–171; Graf 2009, 103–129; Herda 2006, 91–96. Apollo and music: Graf 2009, 33–51; Rutherford 2020a. Connection between wolves and Indo-European warriors or Männerbunde: Jackson 2016; McCone 1987. Connection between Apollo and wolves: Cartledge 2009, 646; as an Indo-European trait: Egetmeyer 2007, 213–219. Apollo Lykeios: Graf 2009, 120–122.

Beekes 2003.

˹d˺ Ap-pa-li-u-na-aš (CTH 76.A = KUB 21.1 iv 27, translit. Friedrich 1930, 80). See Bachvarova 2016, 245–259. Note that attempts to dispute the reading were based on the misdrawn hand copy by Albrecht Götze showing a horizontal wedge before the ap sign, while photos of the relevant passage, now freely available on the Mainzer Fotoarchiv website (https://www.hethport.adwmainz.de/fotarch/), show that the trace before the ap is in fact consistent with the divine determinative, viz. a vertical wedge.

CTH 424.4 = KUB 41.16 + IBoT 4.309 obv. 9: <sup>d</sup> Ap-pa-˹lu˺-[wa‑ and 5 = KBo 22.125 i 10: <sup>d</sup> Ap-pa-lu-wa-an, 11: <sup>d</sup> Ap-pa-lu-wa: Bachvarova 2002, 46, n. 40; Bachvarova 2016, 245–249; also see Herda 2009; Rutherford 2020b, 109–113.

Apollo, prophecy, and healing: Graf 2009, 52–102.

Bachvarova 2022b.

In this contribution, I first review why we can consider Appaluwa to be the type of god who could be classified as a KAL-deity, then discuss Telipinu's character. Finally, working with the assumption that the divine name Telipinu is in fact the source of the epiclesis Delphinios, I offer suggestions as to how and why a KAL-deity could have been merged with Telipinu to create Apollo Delphinios even though the two deities are opposed in Hittite myth as gods of the wild and of agriculture: both are associated with the sacred hunting bag, and they shared enough of the set of dangerously impetuous traits assigned to young men.

#### 2 Appaluwa as a <sup>d</sup> KAL

We begin with the deities designated with the Sumerograms DINGIR (the divine determinative) + KAL, among whom I argue Appaluwa and therefore Appaliuna should be grouped. In the scholarly literature the second Sumerogram has often been transcribed LAMMA based on the fact that the Mesopotamian deity designated with it is the Akkadian protective goddess Lammassu. Thus, this Anatolian divine type is frequently labeled by modern scholars a "tutelary deity" (Schutzgott). However, there is no obvious evidence to support the supposition that the divinities in question were in fact first and foremost protective. Therefore, I follow the lead of scholars who prefer the transliteration KAL, which means "strong" in Sumerian. Hittite scribes seem to have made an equation of the Hittite word innarawant‑ "vigorous, manly" with the Sumerogram, and certainly in the Empire period (late 13th century) a male Innara is attested as a KAL-deity. Adding to the complexity is the fact that a female Hattic deity, Inar(a), also belongs to the KAL-type. So, the folk-etymological equation on the part of Hittite scribes in fact should be traced back to a female deity's name.<sup>10</sup> In Hieroglyphic Luwian, the god is designated DEUS.CERVUS or "stag-god". 11

d KALs received worship in the state cult centralized at Hattusa, and a <sup>d</sup> KAL was one of the standard divine trio along with a sun-goddess and a storm-god that was worshipped in local temples throughout the Hittite empire, at least in the time of Tudhaliya IV (1237–1209). When described in cult inventories or depicted in rock reliefs, d KAL is a male on a stag carrying a hawk and/or hare; often he carries a bow or throwing stick.<sup>12</sup> As a hunter whose realm is the wilderness <sup>d</sup> KAL is the deity "who fills the kurša," or sacred hunting bag, and sometimes a KAL-god, for example Zitḫar-

McMahon 1991, 23–27; Weeden 2011, 263–268. Other explanations of why Hittite scribes chose this Sumerogram eliminate the possibility that the KAL-deities could also be feminine (Archi 2019, 49–51, 59; Hawkins 2006, 51). Inara: Haas 1994, 436–438; Popko 1995, 71, 89–90, 121. Innara: Popko 2007, 67.

Frühwirt 2021; Hawkins 2006.

KAL-deity: Cammarosano 2018, 54–55, 67–72; Haas 1994, 449–459; McMahon 1991, 51–52; Popko 2007, 66–68; Rutherford 2020b, 33–34.

iya, can even be symbolized by the kurša itself.<sup>13</sup> The KAL-god Kuruntiya or Runtiya ("the antlered one") was popular along the Aegean coast in the Hittite period,<sup>14</sup> and images of the male bow-hunter with stag continue to appear in Iron-Age reliefs in western Anatolia, where Iron-Age Tabalian kings continue to use DEUS.CERVUS in their claims of royal domination over the landscape.15

West Anatolia, especially Arzawa, was considered by the Hittites to be a region where particularly proficient augurs could be found. Apotropaic, healing, and purification rituals were collected from Arzawan augurs to benefit members of the Hittite court and to rid entire towns or armies from plague,<sup>16</sup> and it is the features of west Anatolian plague rituals involving augurs that allows us to infer that Appaluwa is a bow-hunting deity. Of particular interest are rituals against plague in which a KALdeity or analogous god is determined to be the angry divinity responsible. For example, in the plague ritual of Ašḫella of Ḫapalla (a region within west Anatolia), he toasts the " d KAL of the ritual" three times before sacrificed animals are eaten at the close of the second day.<sup>17</sup> In another plague ritual, Dandanku directs the god Iyarri, described as a dangerous bow-carrying warrior, to drive the plague on the enemy camp instead by shooting his arrows.<sup>18</sup> Here the parallels with the description of Apollo's plague arrows launched against the Achaean army in Iliad 1.43–52 are obvious.19 It must be noted, however, that the Arzawan purification rituals overall are not strikingly similar to the events in the Iliad 1; they use an animal carrier to remove pollution along

CTH 682.1.A ii 32, translit. and trans. McMahon 1991, 102–103. Zitḫariya: McMahon 1991, 20–23. See especially CTH 683: "Festivals for Renewing the Kurša-Bag for Zitḫariya and <sup>d</sup> KAL of Ḫatenzuwa", translit. and trans. McMahon 1991, 143–88.

Popko 2007, 67.

Images: Ephesus (İçten/Krinzinger 2004, no bow in hand), Malatya, Aleppo, and Karasu (Demanuelli 2013, 122). Named: Bolgamaden and Bohça in Tabal in central Anatolia from the first half of the 2 nd millennium (Demanuelli 2013, 114, 122–123; Hawkins 2006, 60), Malatya, Karatepe, and Karkemiš (Frühwirt 2021).

Arzawan rituals: Collins 2019; Rutherford 2020b, 120–143. Augury: Rutherford 2020b, 131–135.

CTH 394, §§7, 9. On the fourth and final day sacrifices are made to the Storm-god and all the gods.

CTH 425.2; the ritual also addresses the malevolent Heptad, on which see Archi 2010. CTH 425.4 names a variety of gods, especially the Storm-god, as the owners of the land of Hatti, while the Heptad is (among those) blamed for their evident anger (similarly CTH 425.5). <sup>d</sup> KAL is not mentioned in these rituals. The Heptad also receive sacrifices along with the Sun-god in the plague ritual CTH 410 attributed to Uḫḫamuwa of Arzawa. In the plague ritual attributed to Puliša (CTH 407, his origin broken off), a god of the enemy land from which the army has returned is blamed – in this case humans are used as scapegoats!

Iyarri shares these characteristics with Sanda. Iyarri and Sanda: Archi 2010, 24–25; Sanda: Rutherford 2017; Iyarri: Rutherford 2020b, 112, 134, 189–190, noting that his role in Dandanku's ritual resembles that of Apollo in the Iliad. Arzawan augurs' rituals and Iliad 1: Haas 2008, 173; Hazenbos 2007, 105; Högemann and Oettinger 2008; Rutherford 2020b, 189–190.

with the standard propitiatory sacrifices and analogic magic so typical of the rituals collected at Hattusa.<sup>20</sup>

In two Late New Hittite (ca. 1200 BCE) exemplars of plague rituals to be carried out in the various relevant towns, a deity named Appaluwa appears in conjunction with his daughter Lapana.21 While we only have a fragment of each of the two tablets in question, they can be grouped with three other rituals for plague in a town or army camp through shared features, as I have discussed in some detail in a recent article. While in other examples the god who is responsible for the plague is unknown,<sup>22</sup> in the case of CTH 424.4 and 5 it appears that the gods responsible have been established by oracle, another similarity with the Iliad and a sign that augurs were involved in the ritual.<sup>23</sup> Key to deducing that among the gods involved in the CTH 424 rituals is a hunter is the offering of food to the approaching deity's dogs in Tapalazunauli's ritual (CTH 424.1.A, §6ʹ), since dogs are closely associated with hunting in Hittite culture and such offerings are given to draw other hunter gods close.<sup>24</sup> Based on the overall context, we can arrive at the following conclusion: Appaluwa, like Iyarri, is a regionally known god whose characteristics at least overlap with those of deities grouped by Hittite scribes under the category of <sup>d</sup> KAL even though the Hittite scribe(s) responsible for the textualizations of CTH 424.4 and 5 apparently did not apply the designation <sup>d</sup> KAL to him (in the preserved fragments at least); moreover, augurs would have been involved in diagnosing the reason for the plague as well as attempting to drive it away from the town or army. The specific mention of the two exotic west Anatolian gods Appaluwa and Lapana as the angry deities could have been motivated by the specific location where the plague had broken out.

Given the places where Appaluwa and Appaliuna are attested as active and the close parallels between Appaluwa and the earliest portrayal of Apollo in Greek literature as a bow-bearing plague-god protecting Troy, it seems most parsimonious to consider the three deities to be closely connected and bearing different versions of the same name. But, unfortunately, the addition of Appaluwa to the pool of data does not help in the search for an etymology of Apollo's name. Appaliuna can be made to work with Edwin Brown's derivation from a hypothesized Luwian noun appaliya‑ "one of entrapping", also accounting for the early Greek form Apelyon, which is possibly at-

The better-preserved rituals against plague grouped under CTH 424 show that they are characteristically scapegoat (ass, sheep) rituals. When the practitioner's name and affiliation is preserved, they prove to be men from Arzawa (CTH 424.1, 2, 3).

CTH 424.4, §3; CTH 424.5, §3. Full discussion in Bachvarova 2022b.

CTH 424.1, §§5'–6'; CTH 424.2, §§2, 3, CTH 424.3, §2.

CTH 424.4, §3: =šmaš IR-˹an-˺zi ("They ask [. . .] by oracle for them"). This could refer to the offerings expected, but the first step would have been to determine by yes or no oracle which god was angry. Note the usual writing of the verb is not with the Sumerogram IR, but SIxSÁ (Haas 2008, 19). IR, however, does occur (Laroche 1952, 23). Further evidence for augurs and <sup>d</sup> KAL participating in the rituals: Bachvarova 2022b, 40–44.

Bachvarova 2022b, 35–36, 45–46.

tested in the Linear B tablet KN E 842.3 and reconstructable from the various versions of his names attested in the Iron Age, viz. Doric and Arcadian Ἀπέλλων and Cypriot Ἀπείλων. <sup>25</sup> But, Appaluwa precludes Brown's etymology. The variation between ‑li and simple ‑l in the Hittite examples suggests a palatalized ‑l. I therefore propose a stem /Apeʎu-/. The Wilusan god has been Graecicized with the addition of the suffix ‑ōn replacing the final stem vowel, speaking to the same Mycenaean influence at Late Bronze Age Troy that also explains Alaksandu's Greek name, while the Hittite scribe Hitticized the god's name by making it an a-stem.26 However, we still cannot make a decision on whether Apeʎu originated in Greece, west Anatolia, or even Crete. We can only ascertain that he was already shared among Greek-speakers and west Anatolians in the Late Bronze Age.

# 3 Delphinios and Telipinu

I turn now to a less sure connection: between the north-central Anatolian god Telipinu and Apollo Delphinios. The etymology of Delphinios is also disputed. Certainly folketymological is the connection to Delphi, but some Classical scholars see the connection to delphis "dolphin" made by the 6th-century Homeric Hymn to Apollo (493–496) as legitimate,27 thus placing foremost his role as guardian of seafarers and in turn of colonizers. Fritz Graf, discounting the importance of Apollo Delphinios' role as protector of seafarers in order to support his claim that the god is primarily the overseer of young men's transition to adulthood, prefers to see the term as descended from a non-Greek Cretan language.28 According to this line of reasoning the divine kouros type so important in Bronze-Age Crete would have been merged with an Indo-European kouros god Apollo.29 Therefore, (Apollo) Delphinios would have arrived in Miletus, where he was worshipped as the city god, along with immigrants from Crete, a migration assigned in legend to the time of Minos.30

Brown 2004, 246–248.

I discuss the etymology in detail in Bachvarova 2022b, 27–31. For a reliable (aporetic) discussion of the etymology that does not include Appaluwa, see Oettinger 2015. While I do not find the proposed etymologies of either Blažek 2017 or Rosół 2008 persuasive, they thoroughly cover earlier proposed etymologies and explain why they are not acceptable.

So Beekes 2010, 313.

Graf 1979, 3–7, 21.

The Cretan young male god is represented by, for example, the Palaikastro kouros statue (MacGillivray/Sackett 2000).

Apollo Delphinios: Graf 1979; Graf 2009, 109–110; Herda 2005; Herda 2006, esp. 109–110; Herda 2008, 14–18; Herda 2009, 88–89; Polinskaya 2014, 219–225. Faraone 2018, 16–19 highlights the Cretan connection at Hellenistic Miletus, while Carless Unwin 2017, 122–123 finds the possibility of a historical transfer from Crete to Miletus plausible.

A key piece of evidence for Graf's contention that Apollo Delphinios was first of all a Cretan kouros god is the 8th-century date of his temple in Dreros, during which time it has been suggested to have served as a gathering place for men engaging in communal feasting and carrying out their citizenship duties.<sup>31</sup> However, we must accept that it is not impossible that the epiclesis Delphinios was added later to the divine kouros who received worship there, perhaps when he was identified with the supralocal divinity Apollo. While a 7th-century playful and obscene graffito coming from the Spartan colony of Thera (IG XII.3, 537 = DB MAP S#14761) is the earliest inscriptional mention of Apollo Delphinios, therefore supporting the supposition that he was a Dorian god, 5th and 6th-century mentions come from the Ionian cities Erythrae (I.Erythrai Klazomenai 209) and Miletus (I.Delphinion 31 = DB MAP T#159), and several come from Milesian colonies: one from Odessus (SEG 61, 560) and seven from Olbia, including a dedication by the Molpoi,32 a group of citizen singer-dancers serving Apollo Delphinios who also were active in Miletus.33 Thus, it may be that (Apollo) Delphinios originated in Ionia rather than Crete and traveled to Crete from Miletus rather than in the opposite direction.

Indeed, Apollo Delphinios' position as chief god of Miletus, a city which archaeological and textual evidence shows us was a place of contact and contestation among indigenous Anatolians and first Minoans, then Mycenaeans, then Protogeometric Greeks, encourages us to privilege the Anatolian facets of the god.<sup>34</sup> In particular, a sherd of a Mycenaean-style krater found in Late Bronze Age Miletus depicts the hat of a Hittite deity and the beak of a hawk at the right height to be held in the god's hand (although we should note that typically the beak faces away from the KAL-deity who holds the hawk), allowing us to infer that the divine type was already a vehicle to express a Milesian identity shared among indigenous Anatolians and Myceneans, and

Graf 1979, 6, n. 40; 11.

IGDOP 60, 61, 63, 64, 99 (= DB MAP S#7038); I.Olbia 55, 56, 58; SEG 30, 978; other mentions are likely in lacunose inscriptions: Graf 1974.

I.Delphinion 133, on which see Bachvarova 2022a; Herda 2006; 2011. Of the occurrences of Delphinios collected in the electronic Banque de Données des Epiclèses Grecques (https://epiclesesgrecques. univ-rennes1.fr/) and Mapping Ancient Polytheisms database (https://base-map-polytheisms.humanum.fr/), I mention here only the citations from the 5th century or earlier. As for early literary mentions, besides the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, a scholiast explains oblique references by Pindar to an Apolline festival on Aegina as referring to the Delphinia (Σ ad Pi. P. 8.88, N. 5.81), and Thucydides (8.38, 40) refers to the Delphinion on Chios.

Bachvarova 2022a, 55–58, 60; Herda 2008. Among the multifarious founding legends of Miletus, the earliest extant one is from the 5th-century Herodorus of Heraclea (FGrH 31 F 45 = Σ ad A.R. 1.85/8a), citing Cretan Sarpedon and Miletus as founders. Homer names a Miletus among the towns of Crete (Il. 2.647). But, it is in the Hellenistic period that we see emphasis at Miletus on the Cretan connection (Bachvarova 2022a, 57, with note 34, 60; Faraone 2018, 16–19). Archaeological evidence of Minoans and Mycenaeans at Miletus: Raymond et al. 2016 with earlier references.

possibly earlier immigrants from Crete.<sup>35</sup> And, in Archaic Miletus, Apollo Delphinios not only had some of the standard Greek associations – with the seat of government at the Delphinion, with oracles, with colonization – but also shared his sister Artemis' and the KAL-deity's affinity with deer.<sup>36</sup>

Burkert tentatively linked Delphinios to the Anatolian vegetation-god Telipinu,37 a Hattic god whose name means "great-child" in Hattic (Teli-pinu) and is thus comparable to the Mesopotamian Dumu-zi(d) "son-strong". The god of agriculture who plows and irrigates to produce grain, Telipinu is the Storm-god's eldest and favorite son (CTH 322.1, §2; 323.1, §6ʹ). His mother is the sun-goddess Wurunšemu, while his brother is the Sun-god and his sister the KAL-deity Inara.38 "Telipinu" was also a dynastic name; it possibly lies behind the name of the Mysian mythological character Telephos,39 and it may be that an association with leadership helped to motivate the attachment of the name to a young male Greek god that came to represent citizenship.

We get a sense of Telipinu's brash personality in a historiola meant to resolve his anger and the anger of the Sun-god, which recounts how Telipinu married the daughter of the Sea (Hattic Hatepinu "sea-child"). In this myth (CTH 322.1), the Sea – probably the Black Sea40 – hides the Sun in an act of hubris, causing darkness in the land, so the Storm-god sends his "favorite and eld[est son]" Telipinu to fetch him. Telipinu frightens the Sea so much that he gives him his daughter too. Thus, Telipinu is a forceful young man ready to act to support his father but apparently not interested in usurping him. There is an obvious contiguity in the two gods' roles, with the Stormgod providing the rain that makes possible his son's agriculture.

Telipinu is also involved in foundation rituals, and here we see that Telipinu's agricultural side extends to domesticating uncultivated land and bringing agricultural riches to please the gods in the numinous mountains. In one case, "when they build a new temple or a new house on virgin soil" (CTH 413.1, §1), the performer who speaks

On the krater, see Bachvarova 2016, 248–250; Bachvarova 2022a, 57. Rutherford 2020b, 113 has already suggested that Miletus could have been the place where Appaluwa reached Greek-speakers.

Apollo Philesios at Didyma was depicted holding a stag in one hand: Pliny NH 34.75; Fontenrose 1988, 115; Herda 2009, 96–97.

Burkert 1979, 134; also Barnett 1956, 219; Herda 2008, 15, 51, 53, 55, 61; Herda 2009, 88–89; Rutherford 2020b, 190–192.

On Telipinu, see Hutter 2021, 112–113; Haas 1994, 442–445; Mazoyer 2003b, although I am not persuaded by all the latter's claims. Telipinu was celebrated in festivals harking back to the Hattic cultural layer, such as the KI.LAM and purulli festivals. In his festival at Ḫanḫana and Kašḫa songs are performed in Hattic e.g., CTH 638, no. 8, §2ʹ, trans. and translit. Haas/Jakob-Rost 1984, 63, 65. Telipinu as god of agriculture: Gonnet/Hawkins/Grélois 2001, 194. North-central Anatolia his home territory: Hutter 2021, 66–67, 104–105, 112, 210; Steitler 2017, 205–211. Inara the daughter of the Storm-god and therefore Telipinu's sister: CTH 336.3, §5′′.

Rutherford 2020b, 190–191.

Due to Telipinu's north-central Anatolian origin. The Hittites only incorporated the Mediterranean into their mythology after the Middle Hittite period via contact with the Hurrians in Cilicia (Klinger 2000).

the incantation announces firmly, "We are not the ones who have built it; all the gods have built it. The male gods built it as the carpenter, while Telipinu set the foundation, and Ea, the king of wisdom, built the walls on top, and all the mountains brought the wood and stone, and the female gods brought the clay" (§§7–8). Here we can infer that Telipinu is imagined using farming tools such as a spade or hoe to prepare the foundation.<sup>41</sup> Telipinu is also called upon in the final stages of another foundation ritual: "Let Telipinu come, open (the storehouse vel sim.), bring wine, nine times sevenfold, let him bring (it) to the mountain; the gods are all assembled on the mountain. They will rejoice in the king and applaud him" (CTH 414.1, §31). Here we see Telipinu being used to express legitimate hegemony.

Telipinu is best known among modern scholars as one of the divine protagonists lost and searched for in mugawars, along with the grandmother goddess Hannahanna, the Sun-god, and the Storm-god. Mugawar invocations are first attested from the Middle Hittite period (ca. 1400 BCE), but they are written in an archaizing language that indicates an Old Hittite origin. They cannot be considered examples of pure Hattic religious practice, since there is influence from Luwian magic rituals and Mesopotamian concepts like the seven gates to the underworld, as found in, for example, Ištar's Descent. <sup>42</sup> It was the parallels between the disappearing god storylines in the mugawar, the Mesopotamian myth of the descent of Inanna/Ištar, and the Demeter myth told in her Homeric hymn and acted out in the Eleusinian Mysteries that inspired Theodore Gaster to reconstruct a common myth-ritual complex that expressed the concerns of the agricultural year.43 The morphology of Dionysos, son of Zeus, angry returning god who demands respect from his worshippers, also has affinities with the Telipinu myth.<sup>44</sup> Clearly this was one of the most popular ancient plotlines known in the Fertile Crescent and Greece.

Since mugawars are part of purification and propitiation rituals, their purpose includes soothing the anger of the god who is evidently irritated, which is done not only through the suggestive historiola, but also with pleasing offerings, manipulation of language, and analogic reasoning. A typical mugawar about Telipinu starts out with his anger, although it is unclear exactly what has angered him. Smoke seizes the house, perhaps an allusion to burning the fields before sowing in the fall,<sup>45</sup> and Telipinu leaves so hastily that he puts his shoes on the wrong feet and disappears into the

On the laying of the foundation stone involving farming tools, see Mazoyer 1999, 59; invoking the concept of breaking land for farming and irrigation: Gonnet 1990, 52–53.

Hutter 2021, 112–115; Popko 1995, 80, 87, 106–107; Steitler 2017, 205–207. Steitler 2017, 204 argues the mugawar is "primarily a Luwian tradition that came under secondary Hattian influence". For a composite translation of CTH 324: "Telipinu Myth", which does not include all the passages touched upon here, see Bachvarova in López-Ruiz 2013, 450–457.

Gaster 1961; see Burkert 1979, 123–129; Rutherford 2020b, 9, 92–95.

Bachvarova 2008; Tassignon 2001.

A suggestion inspired by Cohen 2010.

steppe. Without his presence, all abundance vanishes, there is famine and drought, and the gods find they can no longer be sated at their feast. Telipinu's father Tarḫun sends out various gods to locate him, but each in turn fails. Only the puny bee is able to discover him. In one version he is in Liḫzina, a city near the Black Sea:

[He went], the bee. He searche[d] the high mountains, he sea[r]ched the [deep valle]ys, [he searched the dark blue] wav[e]. He use[d] up the honey in [his heart], he [us]ed up [the wax.] And, [he found] him in a meadow in the ci[ty Liḫz]ina, [in] a grov[e], and he stung [him] on his hands (and) his feet, so he go[t up.] (CTH 324.3, §3ʹ)

The god awakes in a rage. His anger is described differently in different versions of the historiola. In one, he thunders and lightens, making use of his father's weapons (CTH 324.1, §24′′);<sup>46</sup> in another the practitioner says, "[Telipinu] was [enra]ged, and the spring, the šilma [. . .] he [. . .]-ed. He dragged the flowing rivers. [. . .] he [. . .]-ed. He tore them down, the banks [. . .]. He overturned [citi]es, [he] over[threw] houses" (CTH 324.3, §4ʹ). Depleted of honey and wax, the bee is unable to soothe him. Instead, the goddess of magic Kamrušepa, who is responsible for the words of the incantation, effects the desired change of state. In the real world, the practitioner is probably an Old Woman. Various soothing substances are offered to remind the god that he should be sweet and soothing like them.

Then, when the god has arrived, lured by the sights, scents, and sounds, the next step of the ritual is enacted, the removal of the god's evil fury. In the final stages of the ritual the god once more cares for his worshipper as he returns to his temple:

Telipinu paid attention to the king. In front of Telipinu an eya-tree stands. From the eya is hanging a hunting bag (kurša) of a sheep. Therein (anda) lies fat of a sheep. Therein (anda) lie grain, Šakkan, and wine. Therein (anda) lie cattle (and) sheep. Therein (anda) lie long years (and) descendants. (CTH 324.1.A, §39′′′)

Telipinu's close connection to the mugawar ritual is expressed by his close connection to its key pieces of equipment. He is symbolized by the eya-tree upon which the kurša hangs, as both shown by the Hieroglyphic Luwian sign in the shape of a tree used for his name and declared by the performers of a ritual for installing a replacement eyatree brought down from the mountain at Telipinu's stele.<sup>47</sup> The tree must be nondeciduous, perhaps a live oak or yew, for it represents everlasting abundance, as ex-

On the significance of Telipinu using the weapons of his father, see Güterbock [1959] 1997, followed by Tassignon 2001, 322, pace Gonnet/Hawkins/Grélois 2001, 193, who see it as a conventional metaphor, and Laroche 1984, 127, with n. 2; 132.

CTH 638, no. 14, obv. 5, translit. and trans. Haas/Jakob-Rost 1984, 73, 76–77. Also, no. 12, §3′′; no. 16, §§1′-2′, translit. and trans. Haas/Jakob-Rost 1984, 69, 70, 83–84. On the Hieroglyphic Luwian sign, see Haas 1977, 443, 447; Haas 1994, 701, 744; Mazoyer 2003a, 73; Mazoyer 2003b, 150. The only known representation of Telipinu described in the Hittite cult inventories comes from Nerik, where he is a small silver tankard, which has replaced a stele: CTH 526.7, §§36′′-44′′′, translit. and trans. Cammarosano 2018, 350–353.

pressed in a foundation ritual for a palace: "Just as the eya-tree is eternally flourishing and the leaves do not fall, let the king and queen be flourishing in the same way, and let these words be eternal". <sup>48</sup> It was the appearance of the eya-tree in the mugawar rituals that provoked Burkert's suggestion that Apollo Delphinios is the Greek version of Telipinu; Burkert sees an analogy with the use of trees and branches in Apolline festivals.49

As for the sacred hunting bag made from the fleece of a sheep or a goat, it has a variety of descendants in Greek myth and cult, from Jason's Golden Fleece to the flayed skin of Marsyas hanging in a temple in Celaenae (Hdt. 7.26.3) to the Dios kōidion carried through Athens in procession in the month of Maimakterion (November/December), probably to be hung on Poseidon's statue in order to bring rain, then removed in Skirophorion (June/July). But, the most striking parallel is with the Iliadic aegis, which was carried by Zeus and his children Athena and Apollo. The latter example is particularly important because the phraseology used to describe the terrifying contents of the aegis is remarkably similar to those used in the final section of the mugawar describing the good things in the kurša: <sup>50</sup> "Therein (en d') is Strife, therein (en d') is Strength, therein (en de) is chilling Rout, and therein (en de) is the Gorgon's head, (that) of a terrible monster, terrible and dreadful, the portent of aegis-shaking Zeus" (Il. 5.738–42). Apollo's use of the Greek congener of the kurša shows he indeed has accumulated traits associated with Telipinu.

A <sup>d</sup> KAL, in this case probably Inara, also plays stock roles in the disappearing god myths, such as participating in the divine feast or assembly at which the god's absence is apparent (CTH 324.1, §31′′; 325, §25′′′′). In the "Disappearance and Return of the Sun-god", <sup>d</sup> KAL-a‑ is one of the gods sent to unsuccessfully search for the disappeared deity, and she is contrasted by the Storm-god with the equally unsuccessful agricultural deity Telipinu as a "child of the steppe" and therefore particularly resistant to the frigid temperatures brought on by the Sun-god's absence (CTH 323.1, §6′). This is the key passage that contradicts attempts to argue that Telipinu should be grouped among the KAL-deities,51 although the fact that the two share a temple in the northcentral Anatolian town of Nerik suggests they could be thought to work together or in a complementary fashion.52

Unlike the Stag-god, Telipinu disappears in the Iron Age, receiving no mention in the Hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions discovered so far. Instead, some of his features

CTH 414.1, §51; discussion: Gonnet 1990, 54.

Burkert 1979, 134–135.

Also Aphrodite's kestos himas (Il. 14.214–17). The kurša-bag: Bawanypeck 2005, 185–187; Güterbock [1989] 1997; McMahon 1991, 184–186, 250–254. Greek congeners of the kurša: Bachvarova 2016, 103–104; Rutherford 2020b, 95–97. On the use of the Dios kōidion, see Suda, s.v. Dios kōidion; Eustathius Σ Od. 22.481; Robertson 1984. The kurša and the aegis: Watkins 2000a; Watkins 2000b.

As argued by Laroche 1984, 128, 131; Mazoyer 2002, 187–188.

CTH 526.7, §42′′′, translit. and trans. Cammarosano 2018, 352–353.

are found attached to the Storm-god of the Vineyard, not surprising given the contiguity, if not overlap, between the divine morphologies of Telipinu and his father. On the late 8th-century İvriz relief in south-central Anatolia, the Storm-god of the Vineyard is depicted facing king Warpalawas with clusters of grapes in one hand, in the other a sheaf of grain, while in the nearby Sultanhan inscription he is described by Sarwatiwas, servant of Wasusarmas, as bringing abundance as he steps; "grain grows at his feet and the wine is good here". <sup>53</sup> The parallels with Dionysos are also suggestive.<sup>54</sup>

# 4 Hints of Telipinu in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo

Earlier I mentioned parallels between Iliad 1 and the plague rituals carried out by west Anatolian augurs. It is the Homeric Hymn to Apollo that shows influence from mythical narratives involving Telipinu, which were also embedded in rituals. This is another possible contribution of Telipinu's divine morphology to Apollo. First of all, the personality of Telipinu as brash son of the Storm-god who arrives full of terrifying anger matches the narrative schema of the three fearsome advents that appear in the hymn in the Delian, Pythian, and Crisaean sections.55 The hymn opens the Delian section with the entrance of Zeus' son to the gods' feast striking fear into the assembled gods (2–5), closes the Pythian section with his angry return to punish Telphousa (377), and finally describes how his flashing entrance to his Crisaean shrine terrifies the Crisaean women (444–447).56 Additionally, Apollo, like his mother, travels widely before deciding where to establish his oracle. This is synchronically an allusion to the "many-named" (82) god's wide-spread worship, but the connection between the arrival of the deity and the arrival of prosperity is a key motif in the mugawar, which may be reworked in Leto's promise to Delos that if she hosts Apollo's birth he will bring her, not agricultural prosperity, but riches from the offerings of those who visit his temple (51–60), and the image of the newly born god causing the barren island to bloom with gold like a mountain with wildflowers as he walks (133–139). The motif is also attached to the establishment of the Delphic oracle in a place that is equally infertile but will likewise thrive from offerings from its many visitors (526–537).

Ivriz 1; Sultanhan, §§6–7, translit. and trans. Hawkins 2000, 466. On the Storm-god of the Vineyard see Demanuelli 2013, 103–110. On the connection between the two gods, see Ehringhaus 2014, 50–56; Hutter 2021, 294, with n. 15; Mazoyer 2005.

See references in n. 44.

Division of the hymn into three parts: Faraone 2018; Richardson 2010, 9–13.

Mazoyer 1999, 56. Clay 1989, 19–29 discusses the peculiarities of the opening. Other supposed parallels adduced by Mazoyer are not persuasive or misread the text(s) in question. See Gonnet/Hawkins/ Grélois 2001 for some objections, which are not all that one could make. Comparison of Apollo's entrance to Ninurta: Penglase 1994, 100. Pagès Cebrian 2007 argues that Sminthian Apollo in Iliad 1 also follows this schema.

Furthermore, Michel Mazoyer, who follows Hatice Gonnet in arguing that Telipinu should be seen as a founder god, compares Apollo as founder in his Homeric hymn.57 Although participating in rites of blessing the foundation of a palace or temple is not comparable to prophesying for colonizing expeditions, which is the primary way in which Apollo is a founder,58 it is true that Apollo is explicitly described building the foundations of his temple in virgin soil with his own hands in phraseology similar to the foundation ritual quoted above: "After speaking thus (his intention to build) Phoibos Apollo laid out the foundations broad and very long, in a continuous line" (254–255, 294–295). The foundation is actually repeated twice, because sly Telphousa, angered by his invasion of her space at the future Delphi, manages to persuade the god to found a separate sanctuary at Crisa. In the second case, the others responsible for finishing the task are listed in a fashion similar to that of the Hittite foundation ritual, but here they are very definitely human, including the poet himself who takes credit for enhancing the sanctuary's fame: "In turn, on them Trophonios and Agamedes, sons of Erginos, dear to the immortal gods, placed the stone threshold; and, the innumerable races of men built the shrine around with worked stones to be worthy of song forever" (295–299).

Apollo realizes Telphousa's ruse when he encounters the baneful Pytho lurking at the spring of his new sanctuary and exterminates the baneful snake in a vividly described fight. On the one hand, Apollo's battle duplicates his father's defeat of Typhaon; on the other, it parallels the battles between storm-god and serpent described in Hittite texts belonging to two separate traditions, the native north-central Anatolian Illuyanka myth and the Hurro-Hittite "Song of Ḫedammu". <sup>59</sup> But, there are also parallels here with the Telipinu mugawar. After Apollo went back to Telphousa and declared to her that he was not tricked, insisting, "The glory here in fact will be mine too, not yours alone" (381), he "pushed the peak upon (her) with rocks poured on top and hid her streams" (382–383). The earthquake-like destruction not only inverts the orderly establishment of his shrine and matches Delos' fear of what Apollo might do to her if he scorns her offer of a home (66–78), it also parallels the description of Telipinu's rage in the mugawar quoted above in which he turns rivers from their course and tears down structures.60

The poet closes the Pythian episode with an etymology of a recondite epithet for Apollo: "And there all pray to the lord using the epiclesis Telphousios, because he insulted the streams of holy Telphousa" (385–387). This epithet appears only here, but Strabo (9.2.27) notes the existence of an Apollo Tilphossios in Boeotia, named after the spring Tilphossa along with Mt. Tilphossios. First of all, as Burkert has noted, there is an interesting Gleichklang not only between the names Telipinu and Delphinios, but

Mazoyer 1999, 57–59.

Also see comments of Gonnet/Hawkins/Grélois 2001. Apollo as colonizer: Greaves 2019.

Bachvarova 2016, 250–258.

Mazoyer 1999, 58.

also with the name Telphousa;61 it is possible that the latter was formed off of a variant version of the epiclesis derived from the Anatolian god's name. Secondly, the poet's assertion here is in competition with the later etymology in the Crisaean section, where the god demands of the Cretan sailors whom he has taken to be his priests that he be addressed as Delphinios because he appeared to them as a dolphin (493–496), and it is layered on top of a separate implicit etymology for his epithet Pythios, which commemorates his defeat of Pytho. We are left with the sense that the two once separate sections are taking different sides in a debate about an opaque epithet.62 Certainly, Hesiod in his Theogony exerts effort to explain opaque divine names that we now consider to be borrowed from another language, such as Titan (207–210, from west Semitic Ditanu "bison", a clan ancestor), Aphrodite (188–200, origin still unknown), and Pegasus (280–286, cf. the Luwian epithet piḫaššašši- "of lightning" for the storm-god).63 Moreover, the differing forms Delphinios, Delphidios, Telphousios, and Tilphōsios suggest borrowing into Greek via different routes.

### 5 Conclusion

If we are to take the connection between Telipinu and Delphinios seriously, we must not only explain when and where Hittite Telipinu could have been connected to Apollo, but also how this happened, given that Telipinu is in fact explicitly opposed to the KALdeity in Hittite myth. Telipinu has no particular association with augury, nor does he use hunting weapons. However, he does travel in the same grasslands and mountainous wild spaces KAL-deities oversee. Furthermore, Telipinu, like KAL-deities, could be given a kurša-bag.64 The association with the kurša is an important area of overlap between the KAL-deities and Telipinu that could have facilitated the assigning of an epiclesis built off of Telipinu's name to Apollo. The brash favored son persona of Telipinu, which was a traditional divine morphology throughout the Near East – viz. Ninurta and Baal – maps easily onto the Greek bold and arrogant son persona found in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. <sup>65</sup> Among the Greeks as they began to develop their characteristic oligarchic polis structure Apollo's youthful persona came to symbolize the ephebe: the process of entering into the privilege of citizenship in a harmoniously governed city, in which choral dancing played as important a role as training for battle. Thus, the Molpoi

Burkert 1979, 127.

Polemical ancient etymologies: Sluiter 2015, 903.

Bachvarova 2016, 290–291 (Titan), 425 (Pegasus).

CTH 662.2.A (offerings for local cults) obv. 6–13, see McMahon 1991, 185–186.

Thus, there is a germ of truth in Mazoyer's deduction that Telipinu corresponds to Apollo, although it was based on a misidentification of the <sup>d</sup> KAL depicted on the Schimmel rhyton as Telipinu, which allowed him to argue that Telipinu appeared with bow, spear, and stag (Mazoyer 1999; 2002, 187–188; 2004). For the gods on the Schimmel rhyton: Hawkins 2006, 50, 52; van den Hout 2018, 116–117.

at Miletus and its colonies served the orgia of Apollo Delphinios. Indeed, names such as Molpagoras and Molpothemis show the tight link between proficiency in choral songdance and the right to engage in participatory government,66 and this must have been one reason Apollo became a god of music, facilitated by the obvious parallel of his bowstring and the strings of his lyre. As Ian Rutherford points out, a connection with the Hattic deity does not preclude a maritime aspect for Apollo Delphinios, for Telipinu does have some connection to the Black Sea via his consort, daughter of the Sea.67

If we were to continue in this vein, we might suggest that Milesian colonization on the north shore of the Black Sea could have brought Greek-speakers into contact with Telipinu, rather than arguing that (Apollo) Delphinios' presence at Miletus is best explained by contact with Crete, whether in the Minoan period or later.<sup>68</sup> But, where would transfer of Apeʎu to or from Greek-speakers have occurred? A Cretan origin for Apeʎu (as opposed to Delphinios) is not precluded. We might even suggest Miletus as the starting point with subsequent transfer to the Troad and Graecization of Apeʎu‑ in the larger context of Late Bronze Age contact among Mycenaeans and Anatolians along the Aegean. Finally, Bronze-Age Apeʎu's connection to augury was expanded to oracular practices more generally. The many oracles of Apollo mentioned in his Homeric hymn (39–40)<sup>69</sup> suggest that oracular shrines such as Claros, Didyma, and Delphi were important loci of syncretism throughout the Aegean in the Iron Age, just as the role of Apollo Delphinios as protector of sailors – explorers and hunters in the marine wilderness rather than the mountainous wild – would have fostered the spread of his cult and further syncretism within and beyond the Aegean.

# Bibliography


Bachvarova 2022a, 54–55. The names are first attested in the 5th cent. BCE.

Rutherford 2020b, 191.

So Herda 2008, 15, 61; Herda 2009, 85–89, 97–98. Also see references in n. 30 here.

McInerney 2015, 105–108.

Bachvarova, Mary R. (2022a), "Greco-Anatolian Identity-Making in the Milesian Molpoi-Procession", in: Rocio Da Riva / Ana Arroyo / Celine Debourse (eds.), Ceremonies, Feasts and Festivities in Ancient Mesopotamia and the Mediterranean World. Performance and Participation. Proceedings of the 11th Melammu Workshop, Barcelona, 29–31 January 2019, Münster, 51–83.

Bachvarova, Mary R. (2022b), "The Origin of Apollo – Again", in: Res Antiquae 19, 25–54.

Barnett, Richard D. (1956), "Ancient Oriental Influences on Archaic Greece", in: Saul S. Weinberg (ed.), The Aegean and the Near East. Studies Presented to Hetty Goldman on the Occasion of Her Seventy-fifth Birthday, Locust Valley, N. Y., 212–238.

Bawanypeck, Daliah (2005), Die Rituale der Auguren (Texte der Hethiter 25), Heidelberg.

Beekes, Robert S. P. (2003), "The Origin of Apollo", in: Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 3, 1–21.

Beekes, Robert S. P. (2010), Etymological Dictionary of Greek, Leiden / Boston.

Blažek, Václav (2017), "Apollo the Archer", in: Felicia Logozzo / Paolo Poccetti (eds.), Ancient Greek Linguistics. New Approaches, Insights, Perspectives, Berlin / Boston, 643–661.

Brown, Edwin L. (2004), "In Search of Anatolian Apollo", in: Anne P. Chapin (ed.), XAPIΣ: Essays in Honor of Sara A. Immerwahr (Hesperia Supplement 33), Princeton, N. J., 243–257.

Burkert, Walter (1975), "Apellai und Apollon", in: Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 118, 1–21.

Burkert, Walter (1979), Structure and History in Greek Mythology and Ritual (Sather Classical Lectures 47), Berkeley / Los Angeles / London.

Cammarosano, Michele (2018), Hittite Local Cults, Atlanta, Ga.

Carless Unwin, Naomi (2017), Caria and Crete in Antiquity. Cultural Interaction between Anatolia and the Aegean, Cambridge / New York.

Cartledge, Paul (2009), "Sparta's Apollo(ne)s", in: Lucia Athanassaki / Richard P. Martin / John F. Miller (eds.), Apolline Politics and Poetics. International Symposium, Athens, 643–654.

Clay, Jenny Strauss (1989), The Politics of Olympus. Form and Meaning in the Major Homeric Hymns, Princeton.


Demanuelli, Matthieu (2013), "Faveurs et protections divines en Tabal à l'âge du fer", in: René Lebrun / Agnès Degrève (eds.), Deus Medicus. Actes du Colloque Organisé à Louvain-la-Neuve les 15 et 16 juin 2012 par le Centre d'Histoire des Religions Cardinal Julien Ries, Turnhout, 87–139.

Egetmeyer, Markus (2007), "Lumière sur les loups d'Apollon", in: Res Antiquae 4, 205–219.

Ehringhaus, Horst (2014), Das Ende, das ein Anfang war. Felsreliefs und Felsinschriften der luwischen Staaten Kleinasiens vom 12. bis 8./7. Jahrhundert v. Chr., Mainz am Rhein.

Faraone, Christopher A. (2018), "Seaside Altars of Apollo Delphinios, Embedded Hymn, and the Tripartite Structure of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo", in: Greece & Rome 65, 15–33.

Fontenrose, Joseph (1988), Didyma: Apollo's Oracle, Cult, and Companions, Berkeley / Los Angeles.

Friedrich, Johannes (1930), Staatsverträge des Ḫatti-Reiches in hethitischer Sprache, 2. Teil (Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatisch-Aegyptischen Gesellschaft 34, 1), Leipzig.


Gorman, Vanessa B. (2001), Miletos, the Ornament of Ionia, Ann Arbor.


Mazoyer, Michel (2005), "Télipinu au Tabal", in: Res Antiquae 2, 427–438.


Popko, Maciej (1995), Religions of Asia Minor, Warsaw.


# Ian Rutherford Cross-Cultural Pilgrimage and Religious Change: Translation, Filial Cults, and Networks

Abstract: Pilgrimage tends to bring together people of different religious backgrounds, and it may be a vehicle for the diffusion of religious belief and practice. That's even true within a single culture such as ancient Greece: Greek pilgrims are sometimes instructed to set up "filial cults"; this seems to happen particularly in the context of oracles or healing shrines, the best attested case being Roman Claros. Things are more complex in the case of pilgrimage-sites shared by people from entirely different religious backgrounds, and it is this that I discuss in this paper. I explore three case studies: Greek pilgrimage to the Libyan-Egyptian oracle of Zeus Ammon at Siwa; Phoenician encounters with the sanctuary of Apollo on Delos; and pilgrimage associated with the bicultural healing deity Imhotep-Asclepios in Greco-Roman Egypt. In discussing these cases studies, I shall examine equivalences between gods' names, which we often find articulated at pilgrimage sanctuaries – it is even possible that some of these equivalences originate in pilgrimage contexts. I shall also look at the migration of foreign gods' names and the growth of religious networks, which could at least in some cases (e.g. that of Zeus Ammon) have been facilitated by returning pilgrims.

# 1 Introduction

Pilgrimage<sup>1</sup> is a common phenomenon in the Ancient Mediterranean world but it works in many different ways.2 It can be conservative and homeostatic, perpetuating social structures and hierarchies; but it can also be an engine for change of various sorts, both social and religious. And while it can act as a focus for consolidating a single religious community, it can also serve to mediate between and integrate different groups of people, sometimes from widely different cultural and religious backgrounds. In this short paper I shall try to show how pilgrimage in the Ancient Mediterranean world illustrates the second of each of these alternatives, that is how cross-cultural pil-

Thanks to Corinne Bonnet for the invitation to write this. And thanks also to Sandy Blakely, Irad Malkin, Hana Navratilova and Rostislav Oreshko.

On pilgrimage in the ancient world in general, Elsner/Rutherford 2005; Rutherford 2013, 12–14; Rutherford 2020; McCorriston 2011, 19 has a useful definition: "a journey to a sacred place to participate in a system of sacred beliefs".

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-041

grimage can be said to facilitate religious change (e.g. the movement of cults and sometimes also of divine names). In this analysis it makes sense to focus on three aspects:


These things typically happen together. However, the overall effect is different depending on the type of pilgrimage and the type of sanctuary. In the case of oracle-pilgrimage or healing-pilgrimage, you perhaps get more filial cults; when the focus is a festival, you'll get something more like regional convergence and a common network.

The second and third aspects can be observed in "ordinary", i.e. non-crosscultural pilgrimage as well. Thus in the case of (2), people establish "filial" cults in their home towns, often at the bidding of the gods, in oracle and healing sanctuaries, which could thus be said to "export" religion. In the dossier for Apollo of Claros/Klarios (2nd century CE) we can actually see the oracle giving instructions on what cults should be established, including the setting up statues of Clarian Apollo (the precise name is important) at their city gates.3 Cults of Asclepios may have been spread in a similar way; the Iamata from the Epidauros claim that a man from Halieis, having visited Epidauros without receiving a dream, inadvertently transported a snake back from there to his home town; the Delphic oracle interpreted this as a sign that a cult of Asclepios should be set up there.<sup>4</sup>

To move to the growth of networks (3), it has been argued that the great Panhellenic sanctuaries of Greece played a major role in establishing and maintaining Greek identity in the Archaic period; even if it didn't create it, it certainly intensified it.5 So

See Rutherford 2019a; Rutherford 2013, 300–301. Davies 2009 thinks that this may be how the cult of Pythian Apollo spread.

IG IV<sup>2</sup> 1, 122 69–82 = LiDonnici 1995, B13; cf. Dillon 1997, 199, comparing the case of Nikagora of Sikyon in Paus. 2.10.3; cf. the case of Isis, Thessalonike and Opous discussed by Sokolowski 1974. For the cult of Athenian Asclepios and other cases, Garland 1992, 122. Hall 2002.

too many modern traditions of pilgrimage have been seen as a symbol of national or ethnic identity (termed "mystical nationalism" by Victor and Edith Turner).<sup>6</sup>

The issue of divine encounters (1) works differently depending on whether or not the pilgrims are foreigners. If Greek pilgrims visit a Greek sanctuary, they're usually more or less familiar with the deities there. However, when Greeks visit foreign sanctuaries or non-Greeks visit a Greek one, they encounter unfamiliar deities and have to decide how to name them: whether by their local name or by "translating" them into their own religious system. An early instance of translation is known from Archaic Samos where someone (presumably an Egyptian) offered as a dedication a statue of the Egyptian goddess Mut, which in view of Mut's status as consort of Amun-Re, the chief deity of Egyptian Thebes, almost certainly implies the belief that Mut is a "translation" of Samian Hera.7 It must have been common in the Ancient Mediterranean for sanctuaries to be patronized by people from different religious backgrounds;<sup>8</sup> this can be traced right back to the Late Bronze Age when many different groups must have met at sites like Ugarit.<sup>9</sup> Some of the best known cases are from Late Antiquity, e.g. Mamre near Hebron in Idumaea, traditionally site of Abraham's encounter with the three angels (Gen 18), where Christian and non-Christian (Jewish, Idumean) pilgrimages may have co-existed.<sup>10</sup>

One problem that has to be faced at the start is that the surviving evidence for any particular sanctuary is always insufficient to understand all aspects of the behaviour of foreign pilgrims. Most sanctuaries leave almost no relevant evidence at all. There must have been a great deal of pilgrimage between Cyprus and sites in Phoenicia, but we know very little about it.11 Even for the great sanctuary of Artemis at Ephesos, which surely must have attracted visitors from Greece, Anatolia and other areas for many centuries, we lack the right sort of evidence to say very much about the three aspects outlined above.<sup>12</sup>

In this paper I shall briefly examine three cases where intercultural pilgrimage seems to result in religious change. The examples have been chosen largely because in these cases there is at least enough evidence to say something. The three cases are: first the oracle of Ammon at Siwa and Greek pilgrimage there; second, Apollo's sanc-

On Ephesos, Elsner 1997.

Ethnic examples: Ireland: Shovlin 1991; Taiwan: Sangren 1987; Mexico, the Virgin of Guadelupe: Turner/Turner 1978; Poland, the Black Madonna of Czestokhova: Turner/Turner 1978; for Greece, Rutherford 2013, 264–271; India, Benares: Eck 1982, 38–39; Bhardwaj 1973, 43–57; Sax 2000.

von Lieven 2016, 62. See Guralnick 1997, 133; Ebbinghaus 2006; Jantzen 1972, 33–35; Kilian-Dirlmeier 1985.

The term "ambiguous sanctuary" is sometimes used for this, see Albera 2017; Hobart/Zarcone 2017b; Hasluck 1913–1914.

See Rutherford 2019b.

Drbal 2017, 2018, 161–173, Cline 2014.

See below.

tuary on Delos and Phoenician pilgrimage; and third, the healing cult of Imhotep/ Asclepios in Memphis in Egypt.

### 2 Ammon, Zeus Ammon and the Greeks

Just as Egyptians encountered Greek religion in Greece (cf. the case of Mut on Samos above), so Greeks must have encountered Ammon and other Egyptian gods in Egypt and elsewhere. In fact the Egyptian deity Greeks latched onto earliest was Amun-Re or Ammon, and not in Egypt but in his filial cult in the Siwa Oasis in the Western desert in what was then Libya.

The origins of this oracle are pretty murky, but the context seems to be the highly polarised geopolitical situation in Libya in the early 6th century BCE, when the newly founded Cyrene faced off against Egypt to the East and Libya to the South-East.13 The current view is that both oracle and god are largely Egyptian.14 Libyan traditions may have made an early contribution;15 Baal Hammon of Carthage probably didn't, though the similarity of names (Hammon vs Ammon) may have led people to associate them.16 Greeks from Cyrene must have been visiting already by the late 6th century BCE.17

Amplified by Cyrene, its fame spread to the Greek world. It has been suggested on the basis of coins and material culture that Ammon makes it to Cyprus by the later 6th BCE, though it is not always easy to tell one horned god from another.<sup>18</sup> In the early 5th century it seems to have started to attract pilgrims from a broader area. The first known Spartan consultation is by Lysander in 403/2BCE, but Spartan relations with Siwa must surely be earlier, in view of Cyrene's Dorian origins, and early traditions about the Spartan colonisation of Libya.<sup>19</sup> No doubt concerned not to let their rivals get some undue advantage, the Athenians were soon consulting it as well (starting with Cimon according Plutarch). In the 4th century, they were sending frequent delegations, and even named one of their sacred ships Ammonias.<sup>20</sup> Alexander the

Colin 1998.

On the temple, see above all Kuhlmann 1988; Kuhlmann suggests (33) that the temple, though of Egyptian design, may have been built by Greek craftsmen; see also Muller/Pliett/Kuhlmann/Wenzel 2002, 217.

Montanari 2011, 111 suggests that there may have been an old Libyan ram-god independent of Egyptian Ammon; Colin 1998 also discusses the Libyan background.

Malkin 1994, 167–168; Kuhlmann 1988, 98–99; Lipiński 1986; Xella 1991, 145–146.

On early votive practice see Vaelske 2017.

Counts 2009; Herodotus 4.162.3 attests early links between Cyprus and Cyrene; Matricon-Thomas 2015, who argues that Cyprus was significant.

See Malkin 1994, passim; cf. the constitution: Hdt 4.161.3. Lysander's brother Libys may have been named after the king of Siwa who was a guest-friend of his father, so the relationship could be earlier: Malkin 1990.

Woodard 1962; Rutherford 2013, 117.

Great's self-mythologising pilgrimage to Siwa in 331BCE represents the peak of Ammon's fame; Corinne Bonnet has suggested that here too one could speak of political rivalry between states, since Athens was also consulting Ammon at this time.21 After that we have less information. Strabo claims that the oracle was not much used in his time, though we hear of some consultations in the early Roman Empire.22

Ammon is one of the first foreign deities known to have found a place in the Greek pantheon, and perhaps the first where we can follow the process in any depth. Sparta ought to have had the earliest cult, though in fact the only evidence is Pausanias, who also attests one in Sparta's port Gythion.23 Pausanias also reports that the Eleans worshipped Ammon, and consulted the oracle, that there was a statue of him in Arcadian Megalopolis, and that there was another cult of him in Boeotian Thebes where the poet Pindar had dedicated a statue made by Calamis;<sup>24</sup> according to this account, Pindar wrote a hymn to Ammon, which Pausanias himself had seen inscribed at Siwa, next to an altar to Ammon dedicated by Ptolemy Soter.25 There must have been a cult in Athens too, at least from the mid-4th century.<sup>26</sup> Another important one seems to have been at Aphytis in the Eastern Chalcidike, founded around 400 BCE,<sup>27</sup> possibly a focus for Macedonian interest. Beyond that the texts fail us, but several towns put Ammon on their coins, which may indicate a local cult.<sup>28</sup> One of these was Cyzicus, which had a cult association of Ammoneitai in the Roman period, of which more later.<sup>29</sup>

Since they are found in cities which are known to have sent pilgrimages there, there seems to be a good chance that pilgrimage led to the establishment of filial cults;<sup>30</sup> Ammon could even have ordered that people set them up, as Apollo of Claros did in the Roman period. Or possibly we could see the cult of Ammon in the home town as forming one pole of a bilateral ritual complex: the pilgrims start and end with the same god.<sup>31</sup> However, two texts from the Roman period imply something dif-

Str. 17.1.43 (C813); cf. below on Cyzicus.

Fr. 36; see Paus. 9.16.1.

Matricon-Thomas 2015.

 For the site, see Tsigarida 2011 who says it shows an Egyptian design; there are coins from first half of 4th century BC: Leclant/Clerc 1981, 109–110.

Bonnet 2015a, 440–441; Parke 1967, 218–219; cf. Collins 2012 on the possible background to Alexander's pilgrimage.

Sparta: Paus. 3.18.3; Gythion: 3.21.8.

Eleans: 5.15.11; Megalopolis: 8.32.1 (Fredricksmeyer 1979 argued that this was a cult of Alexander); Thebes: 9.16.1.

Parke 1967, 220; for coins, see Leclant/Clerc 1981, 679–680. Possible candidates include Pitane in Aeolis, Thymbra in the Troad, Lesbos and Tenos.

Steinepigramme 08/01/01. Cyzicus has an Ammon coin from second half of 5th century: Leclant/ Clerc 1981, 679, no. 104. Evidence from onomastics is later; in particular, the name Philammon, an early priest at Delphi, is probably not connected: see Parker 2000, 75 n. 86.

Alternative hypothesis: trade: see Parke 1967, 212.

Cf. Pythian cults in Athens, Koans and Delos: Rutherford 2013, 176–178.

ferent, that a local cult of Ammon is enough. The first is by Favorinus of Arelate (2nd century CE).32

This is what Ammon seems to me to mean in particular, when he replied to men from Aphytis in Thrace who consulted the oracle that they should no longer send people to Libya to ask him, but enquire there in Thrace, since he would listen there too, and he listened. "For Zeus the all seeing goes over the wave of the sea and the land and the well-leaved meadows, as water rises from fountains (anonymous poetic fragment)." 33

The second text is an oracle from Cyzicus, which is usually interpreted to mean that there is no need to send delegates to Ammon's oracle in Libya and that sending them to Claros instead is OK. Here, then, the foundation of the filial cult is represented as a substitute for pilgrimage to Ammon.34

This exotic Libyan deity seems to have been incorporated into the Greek pantheon with surprising ease. The usual view is that the process was expedited by identifying Ammon with Zeus (as we just saw in Favorinus), whose roles included that of oracle giver. If the clientele had been just Spartans and Dorians, one might have expected them to have chosen Apollo Karneios, another deity with ram-associations, and one with great importance at Sparta and Cyrene.35 But Zeus was chosen, perhaps because he was a better fit in Panhellenic terms. Pindar is very emphatic that Ammon is Zeus (Pyth. 4.16 and fr. 36 where he is "master of Olympus" – a text of the poem was supposedly dedicated at Siwa); Herodotus comes to the same conclusion on the grounds that (2.42) Ammon of Siwa is the same as Amoun of Thebes, who he is satisfied is Zeus.36 Herodotus thought the relationship between Ammon and Zeus was particularly close because the oracle at Siwa was the sister oracle of that of Zeus at Dodona, both having been founded from Egypt in the distant past (through the intermediary of doves or possibly priestesses).37 A century later identity between Ammon and Zeus is presupposed in the tradition that the oracle instructed Alexander the Great that he was the "son of Zeus" (Callisthenes ap. Strab. 17.1.43 [C814]).<sup>38</sup>

Barigazzi 1966, 383, 23–26. Cf. Parke 1967, 219–220; Tepedino Guerra 2007, 74.

Tepedino Guerra 1997 suggested the fragment is Pindaric.

See above.

Apollo Karneios and the ram: Malkin 1994, 153. For the idea that the identification with Ammon was mediated via an earlier one with Apollo Karneios; see Struffolino 2012, 187. At Gythion Pausanias found Ammon and the ram-god Apollo Karneios, worshipped next to each other (3.21.8). It has been suggested that Ammon's iconography on Cyprus resembles that of Herakles: Counts 2009.

Is there a note of caution in his account of the foundation of the oracle (2.55), where he says that the dove that came to Libya told the Libyans to construct an oracle of Ammon and adds "this is also to Zeus"?

Herodotus: Parker 2017.

This identification with Zeus is said to be implied in the iconography of coins and statues as well: see Montanari 2011.

But there were other views. In Cyrene itself there is no evidence that Zeus and Ammon were worshipped together,<sup>39</sup> and it seems likely that Ammon had his own temple there, and separate rituals.40 Tellingly, Greek inscriptions of this period never call him "Zeus Ammon", always simply Ammon.41 Pausanias in reporting Elean ritual practice calls him "the Libyan god", explicitly distinguishing him from Greek deities, and making him part of a triad, along with Hera Ammonia and Parammon ("which is a surname of Hermes"), the latter now believed to be a Greek version of an Egyptian theonym;<sup>42</sup> the same triad is found in an Athenian inscription from the 4th century BCE and elsewhere.<sup>43</sup> There are other traces of alternative Greek analyses. In some versions Ammon was a former human.<sup>44</sup> There was a Spartan tradition that he was son of Zeus and Pasiphae, the daughter of Atlas (Plut., Agis 9). Centuries later the poet Nonnos (Dion. 3.285–293) adopts a compromise position, calling him Zeus ("Belos, the Libyan Zeus" and "Zeus Asbystes"), but distinguishing him from the true Zeus; he is son of Poseidon and a nymph Libye, who is herself the daughter of Epaphos, son of Zeus and Io.<sup>45</sup> Frédéric Colin suggested that Nonnos' genealogy is implied already in a Greek stele from Siwa dated to about 200 BCE, which he read as dedicated to Ammon, Para[mmon], Poseidon, Hera and Libya.<sup>46</sup> This is speculative,<sup>47</sup> but it could be right, and this genealogy could even be earlier, since its basic structure can be found in the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women (6th century BCE).48

They are separate in the sacred calendar CGRN 190, 18–19 = LSCG Suppl., 196, no. 116 = Pugliese Carratelli 1960; see also Mohamed/Reynolds/Dobias-Lalou 2007, 21–22.

Parker 2017, 61 with references.

So too Greek coins: see Leschhorn/Franke 2002–2009, I.37.

See Colin 1995. For an alternative view, see Aly/Demery/Bagnall 2022, 73–74, who argue that Parammon was a form of the deified Alexander.

See Paus. 5.15.11; Athens: the inventory from the Mahdia shipwreck, SEG 46, 122; Rutherford 2013, 117 and App.#C3 (363/2 BCE); I. Lindos no. 77 (about 275 BCE).

See Paus. 4.23.10; cf. Dionysius Scytobrachion cited by Diod. 3.68; and Diod. 1.15.3: "Osiris, they add, also built a temple to his parents, Zeus and Hera, which was famous both for its size and its costliness in general, and two golden chapels to Zeus, the larger one to him as god of heaven, the smaller one to him as former king and father of the Egyptians, in which role he is called by some Ammon" (transl. C.H. Oldfather, LCL).

If Zeus Belos is identified with Ammon, does this suggest that the identification was made by people familiar with Phoenician/Carthaginian Baal Hammon?

Colin 1987; see also Wagner 1987, 330–331. Another dedication reported by Kuhlmann 2010, 220 (image at fig.14) = SEG 60, 1809 seems to be to Ammon, Parammon, Poseidon, Hermes and Herakles. Hermes and Parammon are distinct, then, unlike at Elis; for Herakles see Wagner 1987, 339–341.

SEG 47, 2138 is cautious "it may be too rigid to connect our inscription with these specific mythographic traditions collecting the five deities into one family". For Ammon as a minor Zeus see Diod. 1.15.3 cited above.

In the Catalogue of Women the son of Poseidon and Libye is simple Belos, the father of Danaos and Aigyptos; while not identified with Zeus or Ammon, Belos is Egyptian, and not Babylonian or W. Semitic, as the name might suggest. West 1985, 177; Fowler 2013, 347–349. Again, one might consider the possibility that Ammon had already become associated with Baal Hammon of Carthage in Greek mentality if in no other way.

As so often our evidence is patchy, but it is enough to make us cautious about the idea of a simple and straightforward identification between Ammon and Zeus. Translation is fluid: Greeks translated Ammon in different ways at different times, but just as often they left him untranslated.49

# 3 Pilgrimage and Religious Diplomacy: Phoenicia Etc

While Greek pilgrims were visiting foreign gods, non-Greeks were visiting Greek ones. The best place to see this may have been sanctuary of Apollo and Artemis on the island of Delos, which had a thriving pilgrimage tradition, attested already in the 6th century BCE (Homeric Hymn to Apollo). And it always seems to have had a multicultural dimension, since the Deliades were famous for imitating the voices of visitors; and it had mythological links to the Hyperboreans in the North and Lycia.

The first evidence for Phoenician contact with Delos comes in the third quarter of the 4th century BCE. This is a bilingual dedication by the Tyrian Hieronautai ("sacred sailors") in which they dedicated statues representing the cities of Tyre and Sidon to Apollo:<sup>50</sup> just like many Greek pilgrims, their aim in making the dedication seems to have been to use of the space of a Panhellenic sanctuary to advertise themselves.<sup>51</sup> Visits by Phoenician Hieronautai could have been common; an offering from Byblos recorded in the Delian inventories for 276 BCE could have been brought in that manner, <sup>52</sup> as could the crowns dedicated by Philokles of Sidon a little earlier.<sup>53</sup>

In the Hellenistic period there's more evidence for Phoenicians on Delos, though not necessarily as pilgrims. There's a bilingual Phoenician-Greek dedication from temple of Asclepios (166–157 BCE).<sup>54</sup> And Phoenician cults are among the many foreign cults at Delos set up by merchants, since the island was in a tax-free zone after the destruction of Corinth.<sup>55</sup> We find Syrian gods, including Atargatis, sometimes called Aphrodite in these inscriptions; the gods of Ascalon; and the gods of the Palestinian city of Iamneia: Herakles and Hauron or Houron, a deity already attested in the Late

Robert Parker sees Zeus Ammon as a case where Zeus does not necessarily imply identification between two deities, but rather means something like "great god" (Parker 2017, 94); this may be true to some extent, but Pindar seems to have gone for a strong identification between the two.

I.Délos 50; cf. Rutherford 2013, Appendix #C2.

This is consonant with the practice of Greek theoroi, who act on behalf their cities: see Rutherford 2013; the choruses accompanying theoriai sang about their own cities: Rutherford 2004.

Lipiński 2004, 166–171; Byblos: IG XI.2.164B4 with Bruneau 1970, 113; Lipiński 2004, 166: "it is possible that such sacred embassies were coming from Phoenicia on a regular basis".

Hauben 1987, 417 n. 22, n. 24 and n. 29; Hauben 2004, Lipiński 2004, 166.

Lipiński 1995, 156, Baslez/Briquel-Chatonnet 1990.

Strab. 10.5.4 (C486); Parker 2017, 154. This is all about trade; see now also Padilla Peralta 2020.

Bronze Age.<sup>56</sup> There were also permanent guilds of the Herakleistai of Tyre who take their name from Melqart-Herakles of Tyre and the Poseidoniastai of Berytos, whose deity must be the Greek translation of an unknown Phoenician deity. The guild (thiasos) of the Herakleistai in 153/2 BCE requested land from Athens to build a temenos of Herakles on Delos, citing the benefits that Herakles has done for Athens, a sort of "kinship diplomacy". <sup>57</sup> So this creates a permanent presence, a little like a treasury at one of the Panhellenic sanctuaries.

Back to the hieronautai. The Greek text says the dedication was by the Tyrian hieronautai; the Phoenician text is damaged, but it starts with a dating formula which mentions a king Abdashtart/Straton.<sup>58</sup> This is usually thought to be one of two kings of Sidon who bore that name. Both kings' reigns played out against the political and military turmoil of the East Mediterranean in mid 4th century. The first (365–355 BCE) rebelled against Persia and was defeated.59 The second (342–333 BCE) was deposed by Alexander the Great. It has been argued that that hand of the inscription is better fit for reign of Straton II;<sup>60</sup> so were these Tyrian argonauts perhaps celebrating his accession, or courting Apollo's support in anticipation of Alexander's attack? There are, however, problems with this hypothesis: there is no evidence that Sidon and Tyre formed a political unity at this point or any other, so why would Tyrians act on behalf of Straton II?<sup>61</sup> Could it be because the Tyrians had greater expertise at navigating sacred maritime networks, and perhaps were used to performing this service on behalf of other Phoenician cities? (as sometimes happens in Greece62). The problem would go away if Straton were the king Straton of Tyre mentioned by Justin in his epitome of Pompeius Trogus (18.3); Justin/Trogus says he was made king after a slave revolt, and his family were spared by Alexander the Great.<sup>63</sup> Josette Elayi proposes that the hieronautai were representing this Tyrian Straton in the mid-4th century; Jo Quinn<sup>64</sup> suggests that he was put on the throne by Alexander,<sup>65</sup> in which case the ded-

Parker 2017, 154–172; Bonnet 2015a, 475–520; Bruneau 1970, 621–630.

I.Délos 1519, Bruneau 1970, 622.

Hermary 2014, 274 observes how little we know about the part of the inscription in Phoenician.

He is usually thought to be the Straton honoured with a proxeny decree by Athens (IG II<sup>2</sup> .141), though that decree is now dated to 394–386 BCE; were there three kings with that name?

Hermary 2014. The earlier interpretation put it slightly earlier. Quinn 2018, 67 on the possible implications of a political unity.

Though Boyes 2012, 37 seems to think Straton I ruled Tyre, based on Justin 18.3 (see below).

See Rutherford 2013, 179–180.

Quinn 2018, 67; Elayi 2006, 95 with Elayi 1981, also Elayi 1988; Elayi 2006 dates the end of his reign to 349 BCE.

Quinn 2018, 67.

In fact, Justin says that it was the Tyrian Straton's family that Alexander spares, but one would expect the same name to appear among subsequent rulers.

ication of the hieronautai must have been about Hellenization: Tyre would be confirming its relationship with Apollo and the Aegean world.<sup>66</sup>

When the hieronautai visited Phoenicians had already been part of Mediterranean world for centuries and had probably long been interested in Greek sanctuaries.67 They were also acquainted with Apollo: whatever we make of Herodotus' report (6.118) that a Phoenician ship in Datis' fleet had carried off a gold statue of Apollo from Delos, or of the chorus of Tyrian girls bound for Delphi in Euripides' Phoenissae, <sup>68</sup> Apollo reached Tyre in 404 BCE according to Diodorus of Sicily, a statue of Apollo having been sent there by the Carthaginian general Himilco after he sacked Sicilian Gela in 404 BCE. When Alexander the Great sacked Tyre he chose not to return it to Gela, but left it in place – a symbol, perhaps, of its new Hellenized status.69 Later on in the mid-2nd century BCE Tyre seems to have had a religious-political relationship with Delphi, since it sent them a letter which stressed their relationship (sunkrasis in line 2), perhaps involving Herakles in some way.<sup>70</sup> Apollo was also a presence at Sidon: the so-called Tribune found in the sanctuary of the Eshmun at Bostan-esh-Sheikh near Sidon, dated perhaps to the mid-4th century BCE, has an image of several Greek gods, including Apollo Citharoedus.<sup>71</sup>

It thus appears that the Tyrian hieronautai made their dedication with knowledge that Apollo was already established at home in Tyre and probably in Sidon. There is, however, no sign a filial cult of Delian Apollo in Phoenicia. This could be due to deficiencies in the evidence, but in fact filial cults of Delian Apollo are not common anywhere, except the islands of the SE Aegean (the "Dodecanesos"), e.g. in Kos, which seems to have regularly sent a major theoria to Delos.<sup>72</sup>

The Greek part of hieronautai dedication mentions Apollo; the corresponding part of the Phoenician text does not survive. We don't know whether they identified Apollo with a Phoenician god, and if so which one. If they had chosen to do so, there were two obvious equivalents. The only explicitly attested Phoenician translation for Apollo is the old Syrian warrior and plague god Reshef. This equation is found only in

In a similar way it has been suggested that Aspendos joined the network of Argos after its encounter with Alexander the Great: see Lane Fox 2008, 232–238. Rutherford 2013, 275.

E.g. for Ephesos: Bammer 1985.

See Bonnet 2015a, 336–338.

See Bonnet 2015, 400. There is thought to be a sanctuary of Apollo at Tyre, which may be pre-Hellenistic: see Bikai/Fulco/Marchand 1996.

Curty 1995, no. 12; Rigsby 1996, 481–485; Bonnet 2015a, 304–305; Quinn 2018, 140. Arados was included in the list of thearodokoi in late 3rd century BCE; it's not clear if Tyre and other Phoenician cites were as well.

Stucky 1984. In Hellenistic Sidon a victorious athlete makes a dedication to Apollo Delphikos (not Delios), and in early Roman period there is an Apolloneia festival. Bonnet 2015a, 242; Rigsby 2007, 144, 149.

Rutherford 2009; Rutherford 2013, 231–236.

central Cyprus in the 4th century BCE;73 it is also suggestive that in Egyptian Thebes in the Hellenistic period Reshef and Apollo are individually equated with the Egyptian god Montu.74 (another case of translation-fluidity – Apollo is usually the translation of Egyptian Horus). How widespread the Apollo-Reshef equation was is hard to say: Reshef is conspicuously absent from the record in the Western Mediterranean,75 and not well attested in the East,76 but it would surely be unwise to assume it was confined to Cyprus.

The other equivalent that has been proposed is Eshmun, a healing god, whose principal seat of worship was Sidon/Bostan-esh-Sheikh. This is not straightforward, because Eshmun was also identified with Asclepios, apparently already in the 4th century BCE, if this is the implication of a syllabo-cypriot dedication by a certain Timon to Asclepios found at Sarepta near Sidon.<sup>77</sup> There seem to be two ways of interpreting this. First, the argument has been made the identification with Asclepios replaced the earlier one with Apollo, both here and in the West.<sup>78</sup> Kent Rigsby sees it as the triumph of the "literary and banal" (Asclepios) over the "local" (Apollo), and argues, on the grounds that the main "Panhellenic" festival at Sidon was named after Apollo, that Asclepios was not officially adopted there till the late Hellenistic or Roman period (Timon's dedication to Asclepios would thus be a foreigner's perspective).79 Secondly, since Apollo and his son Asclepios were closely associated healing deities, perhaps Eshmun was identified with both of them at the same time,80 "Apollo" being the more general term, "Asclepios" denoting him in his healing aspect.

None of this makes it any easier to figure out how the hieronautai interpreted Delian Apollo. If the Sidonians saw him as Eshmun, we can't be certain that Tyrians would have agreed, and actually they might be expected to have pushed back if Eshmun was perceived as the Sidonian deity par excellence, rivalling their own Melqart.<sup>81</sup> The Apollo-Reshef translation should not be ruled out, since it's the only

 The name has been read in an inscription from Ibiza (KAI 72A-B = DB MAP T#2205), but against this see Lipiński 2009, 236 and Münnich 2013, 257.

 See Masson 1982; ICS 369e. The locus classicus for the identification with Asclepios is Damascius, Life of Isidorus, Athanassiadi fr. 142B = Phot. Bibl. cod. 242, 302 ( = 352b).

Lipiński 1995, 188.

Lipiński 2009, 256; von Lieven 2016, 67. Lipiński 2009, 244 also suggests the parallel Apollo, Reshef is implied in the Hebrew Bible.

Lipiński 1995, 188. It has often been suggested that the Arabic name of Arsuf = Apollonia near Tel Aviv reflects Reshef, but that's not certain.

See Lipiński 1995, 162–166; Lipiński 2004, 484–492; Rigsby 2007, 147–149.

If Asclepios was now Eshmun, was there a different Phoenician deity standing behind Apollo? Some late sources make Asclepios' father the obscure Sydyk, which may be "Justice": Lipiński 1995, 112–114; Lipiński 2004, 488; could Sydyk have been intended an equivalent to Apollo, who can be associated with morality and order (see e.g. Rutherford 2001, 172, 320)?

Cf. Lipiński 1995, 164 who talks about a "duality".

Münnich 2013, 266: Reshef was replaced in part by Eshmun "specially as the ruler over disease". Apollo appears in the Roman version of the god list in the treaty recorded by Plb. 7.9.2–3 between Hannibal and Philip 5 of Macedon made in 215 BCE: Lipiński 2004, 486 n. 52 says this is

Phoenician translation of Apollo that's actually attested, and for all we know it was established in Syrian-Aegean religious diplomacy. There is also a third possibility: non-translation. When people encounter foreign deities, translation can provide convenient ways of understanding them within the framework of their own religious system; but they could also choose to recognise the foreign deity with its own name as something new and different, an addition to their own pantheon (like Egyptian Isis in the Hellenistic period). In fact, the difference between this and translation may be one of emphasis only; thus, Phoenicians visiting Delos in 350 BCE might have recognise Apollo as a transregional deity and addressed him as "Apollo", while acknowledging that there were similarities between him and Eshmun or Reshef.82

We can learn a little more about the dynamics of Phoenician theoria to Delos by looking at the hieronautai. Sacred ships used in theōria ("theorides") are well known from Greek religion especially in the context of Delos (e.g. the one in Plato's Phaedo).<sup>83</sup> The term hieronautai does not occur in that context, though we do find it used in late inscriptions relating to Isiac religion.84 There are a few other references to Phoenician sacred sailing. An unusual verse epitaph from the Piraeus for Antipatros-Shemy of Askalon (late fourth century BCE) refers to a "sacred ship", and this has led to the speculation that Antipatros-Shemy was a sacred delegate or theoros visiting a Phoenician cult there, or perhaps Delos.<sup>85</sup> Secondly, a "ship for carrying sacred offerings" (naus hieragogos) was sent yearly from Carthage to Tyre bringing patrioi aparchai and also apparently attending the festival:<sup>86</sup>

Finding a Carthaginian ship that had carried sacred offerings anchored at the mouth of the Tiber, he (Menyllos of Alabanda) hired it. Such ships were specially selected at Carthage for the conveyance of the traditional offering of firstfruits to their gods that the Carthaginians send to Tyre.

Sources also tell is that these envoys celebrated a yearly festival in Tyre; Arrian calls them theoroi. <sup>87</sup> Greek colonies sometimes send offerings back home as well, though there's no sign that sacred ships were used for this.88 There is, however, a broad simi-

Plb. 31.12.11–12 (trans. W.R. Paton, LCL).

Eshmun (". . . since Resheph did not belong to the Carthaginian pantheon"); so Xella 2019, 283; Barré 1983, 61–64 says it's Reshef.

So Bonnet 2015a, 400; cf. Parker 2017, 45–46.

Rutherford 2013, 181–182.

I.Tomis 98. See Avram 2018, 123–124.

IG II<sup>2</sup> .8388. Stager (2005, 438 n. 52) conveniently catalogues scholars who have seen a theoria here, starting with Köhler in IG II.2836 (1888), and including Wolters 1888, 315, and Bonnet 1990, 45.

Arr. An. 2.24.5: καὶ Καρχηδονίων τινὲς θεωροὶ ἐς τιμὴν τοῦ Ἡρακλέους κατὰ δή τι[να] νόμιμον παλαιὸν εἰς τὴν μητρόπολιν ἀφικόμενοι (. . . as well as some Carthaginian envoys who had come to their mother-city to pay honour to Herakles, according to an ancient custom [trans. P.A. Brunt, LCL]); cf. also Quintus Curtius 4.2.10. Another case can be found in Diod. 20.14, with Bonnet 2015b. For the role of "Baal of Tyre/of the Rock" in the Tyrian network, see Guillon 2021.

Rutherford 2013, 61–62.

larity between the way Phoenician and Greek sacred networks worked, as Michael Sommer has observed:

The paramount importance of Melqart throughout the Phoenician colonial diaspora, especially his association with seafaring, suggests that the god played a key role on keeping the network alive – different from but analogous to the oracle of Delphi (Sommer 2009, 100).

The point here is that Carthage sending first fruits to Tyre resembles representatives of all Greeks, including colonists, meeting at the great Panhellenic sanctuaries. Probably we should see the Tyrian hieronautai at Delos in the same way: because they have a similar institution – the sacred ship – they use it to latch onto and become part of the Greek network. That also might explain why they are Tyrians: it is because they were the experts in sacred navigation (see above).

So while we don't have much evidence about translation or filial cults, we can at least see how the Phoenician sacred network comes to merge with the Greek one. This could have happened elsewhere as well. There were cultic links between Cyprus and Phoenician sanctuaries such as Sidon/Bostan esh-Sheik and Amrit near Arados.<sup>89</sup> Corinne Bonnet<sup>90</sup> has suggested that in the early Hellenistic period there was a simple sacred network linking Asclepios in Kos and Eshmun in Sidon, and that Sidon was trying to "s'insérer dans une dynamique de koinè cultuelle". <sup>91</sup> Kos was in the Delian sacred network, and sent a regular theoria to Delos,<sup>92</sup> so perhaps we could imagine the Phoenicians as sometimes joining the sacred flotilla.

# 4 Imhotep and Asclepios: Cultic Mobility in Ptolemaic Egypt

Some of the best known "ambiguous" cult sites are healing sanctuaries. One such case is that of Eshmun in Sidon, just discussed. Other cases are also known from Roman Thrace: Asclepios Zimidrenus and Asclepios Culculsenus.<sup>93</sup> In Egypt, Asclepios was usually identified with Imhotep, a divinised human, once a minister and architect in

Eshmun linking Kition and Amrit: Bonnet 2015, 124–125; Bordreuil 1985, 227–230; Cypriots may even have dedicated an image of Ammon at Amrit: Bisi 1981. Timon's dedication to Asclepios-Eshmun at Sarepta near Sidon: see above; there is another syllabo-cypriot inscription from Sidon dedicated to a goddess (ICS 369d); Bonnet 2015a, 257.

Bonnet 2015, 254–257; cf. also Bonnet 2013, 48–49.

Bonnet 2015, 256. Sidonian Diotimos son of Abdalonymos makes a bilingual dedication on Kos: Lipiński 2004, 149–155; Bonnet 2015, 251–257. This hypothesis depends on Sidonian Eshmun being Asclepios at this time, which Rigsby would not accept. For similarities between Phoenician and Greek networks (specifically those relating to aphidrumata), see Bonnet 2015b.

Rutherford 2013, 321–326; Rutherford 2009.

Pfloeg 2018,75–76, 198.

the reign of the Old Kingdom pharaoh Djoser (27th century BCE). The centre for Imhotep's cult was in N. Saqqara to the West of Memphis, a site of great importance for the development of Egyptian religion in the 1st millennium BCE (it was probably here that the deity Sarapis (= Osir-Apis, the deified Apis bull) originated) and a great crosscultural meeting place. Imhotep's cult can be traced back to the Saite Dynasty (664–525 BCE), though it could be earlier; his temple there, probably in the vicinity of the Bubasteion,94 may have been close to "step pyramid" of Djoser which he was supposed to have designed. In the 4th century (30th Dynasty) he was worshipped alongside Ptah (by this time regarded as his father) and Apis-Osiris.<sup>95</sup> The size of the cult can be judged from an inscription form the reign of Augustus which commemorates assistance given by Imhotep in bringing about the birth of a son and lists six annual festivals.96

The cult was drawing pilgrims from a wide area: this is probably the reason for the large number of bronze statues of Imhotep found in Saqqara.<sup>97</sup> Inscriptions on two 4th century funerary statues mention visitors coming from cities and nomes to pray to Imhotep for life for themselves. One of these is on behalf of a priest based in Karnak and Hermonthis in area of Thebes to the South,<sup>98</sup> which suggests that the cult had a pan-Egyptian dimension at this time.

The identification with Asclepios can be traced back to the 3rd century BCE, when Manetho refers to Imhotep under that name.<sup>99</sup> We should probably think of Imhotep's cult as becoming a pilgrimage site for Greeks in Memphis and the area. The most spectacular testimony is the so-called Imouthes Papyrus (P.Oxy.1381, Early Roman), the writer of which purports to be translating a sacred book about the deity, claiming that his cult went back to the reign of Menkaure (26th century BCE), when it was transferred to Memphis from Heliopolis,100 and that the book was discovered in the reign of Nectanebo (379–361 BCE).<sup>101</sup> Not all sources saw the Greek Asclepios and Im-

On the date, see Wildung 1980, 146–147; on the position see Wildung 1977a, 46–47; Wildung 1977b, 33–34, §13; Smith 1984, 412–428, 424; Nicholson 2018, 24–25; for the site, see Lang 2013, 67–69; 75–78. For the meagre epigraphic evidence, see Ray 2011, H1 and H11.

Wildung 1977b, §19.

Wildung 1977b, §47.

Wildung 1977b, §47.

Wildung 1977b, §21; cf. §20.

There is a good survey in Renberg 2016, 425 n. 81; Manetho, FGrH 609F2–3b, 22–23 says the 4th Dynasty Pharaoh Sesorthos (= Djoser) was called Asclepios and was an architect and doctor; Imhotep lived in the reign of Djoser, so there has been some confusion here; other sources Philonides Papyrus P.Petr I 30(1) = Wildung 1977b, §35.

A cult of Imhotep in Heliopolis is confirmed by Demotic papyri: see Wildung 1977b, 124. Another reference in an astrological papyrus P.Paris 19, col. i, l. 6.

Imhotep's importance is shown by the Demotic Egyptian "life of Imhotep" narrative, in which he and Djoser fight the Assyrians and try to reclaim the parts of Osiris' body, and Imhotep heals Djoser of blindness (Ryholt 2009). For his role in Egyptian hermetic literature see Quack 2014, Jasnow 2016,

hotep as identical. One of the Greek magical papyri has a spell which recommends inscribing on a ring the image of "Asclepios of Memphis" (τὸν ἐν Μέμφει Ἀσκληπιόν); when you use it, you're supposed to show it to the constellation of the Bear, saying: "Menophri (i.e. Memphite one), who sit on the Cherubim, send me the true Asclepios, not some deceitful daimon instead of the god . . .". One might have expected the Egyptian theonym to be used here (as it is in some Demotic Egyptian spells), but the Greek one has eclipsed it.<sup>102</sup>

In the Hellenistic period Imhotep's cult spread to various places in Egypt, which probably reflects popular demand for a healing deity. At Dendara, there is an inscription praising his accomplishments on a wall close to the so-called sanatorium.<sup>103</sup> In some of these places, he is clearly associated with Asclepios, as at Philai, where a temple for Imhotep was built by Ptolemy V with a dedication to Asclepios in Greek at the top of the pylon, accompanying Egyptian iconography and inscriptions.104 There may be some relation to the "Famine Stele" on nearby Sehel Island where Imhotep plays a prominent role.105

Asclepios and Imhotep were also associated at Deir-el-Bahari in the mortuary temple of queen Hatshepsut on the West bank of the Nile near Thebes.<sup>106</sup> Deir-el-Bahari had been a pilgrimage destination for many centuries because it was on the route of the great "Festival of the Valley" when crowds of people accompanied the god Ammon crossing the Nile from Thebes to the West bank to worship the goddess Hathor and commemorate their ancestors. This pilgrimage probably continued into the Roman period; some graffiti mention Ammon or Amenophis, the god of Egyptian Thebes.<sup>107</sup>

At Deir-el-Bahari there was a healing cult of another divinised man, Amenothes the son of Hapu, who had been an important official and manager under the 18th Dynasty pharaoh Amenhotep III, and was apparently remembered as a priest in Manetho's Aegyptiaca (= Jos., Ap. 1.232–6; here called "Amenophis"). Unusually for someone who wasn't royalty, he was worshipped after death in a mortuary temple on the West bank at Thebes (at Qurnet Murai).<sup>108</sup> He seems to have been regarded as a healing deity already in the 26th Dynasty and was visited by a daughter of the pharaoh Psam-

<sup>332</sup>–334. For the possibility that the cult of Imhotep-Asclepios is continued in Arabic times in the tradition of Joseph's prison, see Stricker 1942.

P.Lond. 121 = PGM VII.628–642, 3rd-4th centuries CE.

Wildung 1977a, 55–56 = Dendara XIII.59; cf. Cauville 2011, 74–77; the sanatorium now doubted: Cauville 2004; Renberg 2016, 377; Lang 2013, 96; Daumas 1957.

Wildung 1977b, 152–171; A. Bernand 1969, no.8 (c. p.102–103); see Cauville/Ibrahim Ali 2013, 79–86. some have speculated that the motivation for the dedication might be a successful birth.

See Gasse/Rondot 2007, no.542; Grenier 2004.

Łajtar 2006, 46–47.

Łajtar 2006, 48–49.

Wildung 1977a, 88.

metichus I.109 In the early Hellenistic period (around 300 BCE) his cult was for some reason moved a short distance North to the upper terrace of the great mortuary temple of Queen Hatshepsut at Deir-el-Bahari.

Around the same time110 Amenothes was joined by Imhotep-Asclepios. At Deir-el-Bahari Greek graffiti and ostraka always call him Asclepios; that theonym is not found at Memphis, but very few Greek graffiti have been published from there, and Memphite sources do refer to the Asclepieion. At Deir-el-Bahari he is twice invoked as son of Phoibos (Apollo),<sup>111</sup> which contrasts with the usual idea that Imhotep is son of Ptah; in the esoteric Memphite P.Oxy 1381 this is even extended to Asclepios who is "son of Hephaistos (= Ptah)". <sup>112</sup> At Deir el-Bahari the goddess Hygieia is present too and may possibly correspond to a minor Egyptian goddess.113

Visitors came to Deir-el-Bahari from Thebes and the immediate region, and occasionally from further afield, in some cases leaving graffiti or ostraca (Greek graffiti have been published; demotic Egyptian ones not). Most are from the region of Thebes, but they included a Roman solder stationed in Coptos.114 Some of them describe themselves as feasting.115 A late Greek subliterary source describes the visit of one Thessalos of Tralles to Thebes to receive a revelation from Asclepios, and this probably refers to the same deity.<sup>116</sup>

These two were also worshipped together in Karnak, where there was a great Egyptian hymn to them on the door to the temple of Ptah.117 In the late Ptolemaic period, another centre for Amenothes and Imhotep, along with Thosytmis, an oracular form of Thoth, was established nearby at Qasr el-Agouz, but pilgrims continued to visit them in Deir-el-Bahari.118

In one graffito from Deir el-Bahari from the Roman period,<sup>119</sup> two other divine names occur:<sup>120</sup>

καὶ Φριτωβ συνβοηθούντων Πχερσταπανε

Wildung 1977b, §179.

Łajtar 2006, 14–15, 30–31. Imhotep's first attestation in Thebes is in the reign of Ptolemy III; he is found at Deir-el-Medina under Ptolemy VI; his introduction into Deir-el-Bahari probably happened around the same time.

Łajtar 2006, 100, 208.

Another respect in which P.Oxy 1381 is closer to Egyptian religion is the figure Caleoibis: Ray 2011, 238. See Łajtar 2006, 47–48; Parker 2017, 42 n. 33. Laskowski-Kusztal 1984, 88 suggests Hygeia the same as the hippopotamus goddess Ipet-Nut; von Lieven 2016, 76–77 disagrees.

Łajtar 2006, 80–86; no. 208.

Łajtar 2006, 67–68; see Theban Ostraca 142 for a synodos of Amenothes.

Moyer 2011, 250–251.

Wildung 1997b, 209–210; Sauneron 1965.

Łajtar 2006, 15.

Łajtar 2006, 130.

Łajtar 2006, 130; cf. 48.

This is to be read with line 1 after line 2: "With the joint aid of Pkherstapane and Phritob".

This is possibly written by Eugraphios, author of the previous graffito (though this one is in smaller letters) which is a proskunema to Asclepios, Amenothes and Hygieia (no.129). The participle συνβοηθούντων suggests that these deities are additional to Imhotep and Amenothes. Łajtar s.v. makes a case for them referring to Imhotep and Amenothes. Pkherstapane seems to represent an Egyptian rendering of the Old Persian for "satrap" (khsathra-pavan), with addition of the Egyptian definite article (p3-).121 This is attested as a divine title and epithet, but also seems to have been confused with the name of the Phoenician god Shadrapha,122 who is sometimes associated with Eshmun123 and Greek Asclepios.124 Phritob could be the transcription of Egyptian p3-hry-tp, title of a high Ptolemaic officer, which Łajtar argues could refer to Amenothes,125 in which case Pkherstapane would be an Egyptian-Greek-Phoenician version of Imhotep/Asclepios. Even if these deities are separate, the name "Pkherstapane" suggests a further dimension of the multi-cultural pilgrimage to Deir el-Bahari, with a contribution from the Persian or Semitic world.

This is thus the picture that emerges: Imhotep's cult thus began in Memphis, where he was identified with Asclepios. The Greco-Egyptian cult then spread from there to various places in Egypt in the Ptolemaic period. The most successful secondary cult seems to have been in the Thebes area, where Imhotep-Asclepios joins the already established Amenothes as one of a pair of healing deities. There was thus a double process of cultic combination: at Memphis, Imhotep is equated with Asclepios while Deir el-Bahari Imhotep and Asclepios are associated with Amenothes. The first is paradigmatic (a substitution), the second syntagmatic (an association).

The identification of Asclepios with Imhotep/Imouthes is not, as far as we can see, found in the broader Greco-Roman world. Instead, the Egyptian healing god par excellence is Sarapis, who was often regarded as an equivalent or rival to Asclepios. Aelius Aristides revered them both; Artemidoros warned about dreams in which Sarapis heals the dreamer: these always lead to death, because Sarapis is the god of the Underworld.126

See Lipinksi 1995, 196; Bonnet 2015, 120 is less sure.

Łajtar attributes this idea to H. J. Thissen.

For "satrap" as a theonym see Lipiński 1995, 197–198, who suggests in the Xanthos trilingual the deity Hstrpty = Khsathrapati could be Mithra as "satrap"; also Bonnet 2015, 194–195.

See Lipiński 1995, 197–198: the "lion-holding" Asclepios referred to in Marinus' Life of Proclus 19 recalls the "Amrit Stele" of Shadrapha. Notice that a statue of Imhotep was found in the favissa at Amrit, near to where this statue comes from: Bonnet 2015, 123; for the site, Lembke 2004. Note that in Grotto Regina near Palermo in Sicily graffiti addressing Shadrapha and Isis are found together: for references see Bonnet 2015, 120.

Chaeremon, cited by Jos., Ap. 1.289 and 295, uses Phritobautes as the name of an advisor to the pharaoh Amenophis, which looks very like Manetho's Amenophis son of Hapu.

See Stambaugh 1972, 75–78, who suggested that Sarapis might have had a "healing" role in Alexandria as well; Hornbostel 1973, 22 n. 3; for Sarapis not being worshipped widely in Egypt before the

Occasionally the two gods were equated, as by Tacitus (Hist. 4.84.5), and by Vedius Alkisthenes who made a syncretic dedication in Lebena (3rd-4th CE).127

The triumph of Imhotep in the chora may have been a deliberate religious strategy by the Ptolemies, perhaps to foster a popular cult which was shared by Egyptians and Greeks, and also to encourage a common religious culture between Memphis and Upper Egypt. The priests may have been involved as well.<sup>128</sup> But since this cult attracted pilgrims (both Egyptian and Greeks), it seems likely that that they played a part in the transmission, establishing filial cults as they returned. A key part in this Imhotep-ization of Egypt was surely his identification with Asclepios, which probably happened in Memphis the early 3rd century BCE, and it may have been Greco-Egyptians' expectations about Asclepios that drove the process.

### 5 Conclusion

So the evidence for the three key aspects I identified at the start predictably turns out to be uneven. Filial cults are best illustrated by the dissemination of Ammon to Greece. For pilgrimage networks the most suggestive case is that of the hieronautai of Tyre, which allows us to glimpse the Phoenician sacred network and how it may have begun to merge with the Greek one, although even here we have no information about the earliest phases. In the case Imhotep/Asclepios we seem to see filial cults as well, stimulated in part surely by popular Greek interest. In all three cases the theme that emerges most clearly is the importance and limitations of translation: people use it as a practical tool to make an unfamiliar god comprehensible within the frame of their own pantheon, by a process that has elsewhere been called "anchoring innovation"; but no single translation is fixed, and often people don't translate at all.

Finally, in the context of this volume, the question should be asked, what was the likely contribution of pilgrimage to the development and dissemination of divine names in the East Mediterranean region? My provisional answer to that is it made a major contribution, comparable to other dynamics such as trade (which is often linked to pilgrimage), migration and warfare. Two factors incline me in this direction. First, the volume of cross-cultural pilgrimage in the region must have been very high, with a broad geographical and diachronic distribution. And secondly (as I have tried to show in this paper) in cases where evidence does survive, we can sometimes catch

Roman period see Bricault 2021, 188. On Aristides, see Behr 1968, 149–150; on Artemidorus, see Thonemann 2020, 154–156.

I.Cret. I.17.27 = DB MAP T#14355.: Διὶ Σεράπιδι Ἀσκληπιῷ ἰατρῷ Τειτανίῳ Λεβηναίῳ. The epithet Titanios is said to come from Titane in the NE Peloponnese near Sicyon where Asclepios had a major temple: see Paus. 2.11.3–7.

Łajtar 2006, 34.

a glimpse of how pilgrims encountering foreign gods identified them with their own deities, and/or exported them back to their own communities. Surely it's not overextrapolating to say that the same thing must have happened all over the place.

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Postface

# Corinne Bonnet Postface

Some Introductory Words

At the end of a volume containing some thirty texts covering a wide variety of points of view and themes, touching on a whole range of times, spaces and scrutinising divine onomastic practices from every angle, a conclusion would have been a heavy, complex and risky task. We have therefore instead opted for a long introduction to the volume, which aims to problematise the general topic and open up a series of avenues, followed by section introductions focusing more precisely on specific issues or questions. To conclude this collective venture, we decided to grant "carte blanche" to two colleagues to open the debate, because we are convinced that a book like this is also a starting point for future research agendas. Beate Pongratz-Leisten and Philippe Borgeaud agreed to take up the challenge and react freely, according to their own inspirations and interests, to the contributions in the volume.

The aim of the ERC "Mapping Ancient Polytheisms" project was simply to stimulate reflection and invite everyone to take up proposals and analyses, ideas and concepts put into circulation between 2017 and 2023. At the heart of the question of divine names lies such a complexity that, like the Himalayas or Mont Blanc, implies scaling various faces; such was the ambition of the MAP research programme and such is the major objective of this collective work. The landscape we see once we reach the summit belongs to each and every one of us and we hope that, in the years to come, it will fuel creative studies and lead to new avenues of research.

It is to Shakespeare, who inspired the title of this volume, that we borrow again a passage from A Midsummer Night's Dream: "The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name." (italics are ours).

#### Beate Pongratz-Leisten

# Some Thoughts on the Origins of the Divine and Interaction with Divinity in the Ancient Near East

The Modern Assyriological investigation into the nature of divinity in the ancient Near East has been a complicated one as, until recently, it has been heavily impacted by preconceptions arising from an evolutionary approach towards religion. As I have addressed that aspect in some of my own former research in recent articles, I refrain from revisiting it in this context.1 The point from which I want to start my present commentary in this collection of articles is my former proposition to understand the conceptualization of the divine in the ancient world view as that of a cosmic order in which mortals and divinities cooperate to maintain that order. I thus posited that in its interaction with the human sphere, divinity was conceived as a mentalizing agent.<sup>2</sup> Drawing on the New Animism in anthropology, however, more recent Assyriological scholarship has reintroduced the notion of an animated universe in which everything was regarded as a "god" with whom humanity could establish a relational bond.3 My aim here is to counter such a universalizing claim by providing a more nuanced picture and telling the story of the ancient conceptualization of the divine with the help of early archaeological and written evidence from the ancient Near East. In my view, awareness of these data is essential to tackling the notion of the categorization and the invocation of, and interaction with divinity in the ancient Near East.

By the time of the earliest known textual records holding information on how the ancients conceptualized divinity, people had been living in the Ancient Near East for millennia. Rich archaeological data reveal how they followed their sources of subsistence in the foothills of the Anatolian mountains according to season, while burials and caves attest to the care that they bestowed upon the dead.<sup>4</sup> Funerary practices go far back in human history; the oldest known burials date between 200,000 and 40,000 BCE,<sup>5</sup> with the Shanidar cave in Northern Iraq from 50,000 BCE, being one of them.<sup>6</sup> Around 10,000 BCE, i.e., six thousand or more years before the invention of writing, massive monumental T-shaped pillars carved with images of scorpions, vultures, snakes, wild boars, and other animals set in circles suggest the creation of sacred pla-

Pongratz-Leisten 2022 and 2023.

Pongratz-Leisten 2011 and 2022. On the concept of mentalization rather than anthropomorphism see Gervais 2013; Pyyisiäinen 2001 and 2009.

See Perdibon 2019, who founds her research on the definition of divinity in Nevling Porter 2009.

Cauvin 2000.

Lichter 2007, 247.

Charvat 2002.

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-043

ces in Göbekli Tepe, close to modern Urfa in southern Anatolia.7 These circles are believed to have served as sacred spaces in which people gathered for cultic ceremonies to honor their ancestors and other otherworldly beings. The development of a cult of ancestors during society's transition from hunting-gathering to an agrarian lifestyle implies that people, even if still mobile, returned to a particular place at a given time of year to engage in ceremonies honoring the dead. As time went on, the dead gained legal significance for the living, who buried their relatives beneath the floors of houses to stake their property rights and identify their family structure. Only much later did this function of ancestors come to be attested in textual sources.<sup>8</sup>

The practice of venerating ancestors was widespread in the ancient Near East. The richly decorated bodies in the cemeteries of the Natufian villages in the hills of the Mediterranean coast date to approximately 12,500 BCE and attest to the cultic care with which their people treated their dead.<sup>9</sup> The burial practices of the Late Natufian people in Jericho seem to have called for the separate reburial of the skulls of adults. As there are far fewer plastered and decorated heads than the number of people living in the villages of Jericho, Tell Aswad, and elsewhere at the time, this practice and the later plastering of such skulls with inlaid cowrie-shell eyes indicate the performance of an ancestor cult that acknowledged social hierarchy. We can thus safely assume that "adaptive behavior," as revealed in technical developments such as the harvesting of cereals included a "socially transmitted knowledge" <sup>10</sup> that manifested itself in the commemoration of the dead. Thanks to their "sedentary settlement, these larger communities also put down roots in a stable, permanent social environment, where the company of the dead, of which we see witness in the first cemeteries that are mingled with the houses of the living, reinforces metaphorically the community of the living and can legitimate in some way its permanence." <sup>11</sup> In addition to the monuments and burials related to the ancestor cult mentioned above, the finds at Çatal Höyük (7400–6000 BCE), a large settlement of over two hundred houses, some of which contained boukrania mounted on walls and hearth enclosures, and reliefs of panthers and a female figure believed to be in the process of giving birth, as well as sculptures that include the Lady of the Animals, attest to elaborate symbolic expressions that clearly included divine agents. Such a sharp focus on sacralized sites, temples, carved stele, skull cults, and symbolic wild animals along with the distinction in the sizes of houses and their architecture in the late Epipaleolithic and Neolithic have been explained in relation to social differentiation.<sup>12</sup> In the historic era, the selfdefinition of the individual as rooted in their bond with ancestors is revealed in idio-

Bachenheimer 2014.

van der Toorn 1996, 42–65.

Mithen 2006, 32ff.

Cauvin 2000, 19; Sperber/Hirschfeld 2004; Tomasello 2000.

Cauvin 2000, 20.

Hodder 2014, 13.

matic phrases such as "to walk the path of one's forefathers," as attested in the eighthcentury BCE burial inscription of Queen Jabâ in Nimrud, Assyria,<sup>13</sup> which must have been Syrian in origin as similar phrases exist in Aramaic<sup>14</sup> and Hebrew. What is more, aside from contributing to horizontal and vertical relationships,15 which eventually extended beyond the lived-in world,<sup>16</sup> this relationship with ancestors determined communal behavior in its dealings with space as a created, lived-in, and structured environment.<sup>17</sup> While the burial of the dead is a ritual performance that is primarily a means of "disposing" of a dead body and thus includes many rituals of purification, secondary burial and the performance of a mortuary cult commemorating the dead have regenerative, cognitive, and emotional aspects that establish authority in space. Due to the permanence of such commemorative space, tradition and history become visible and shape the collective identity of the group or community in question.

Thus contrary to what many books on the history of religion would make us believe, the origins of religion were not based exclusively on the apprehension and fear of natural forces, as expressed in their personification.<sup>18</sup> Neither were they a topdown development with shamans susceptible to supernatural agents mediating between the human and the spirit world.<sup>19</sup> Nor can we explain them in evolutionary terms, progressing from immanence to transcendence as promoted recently by Marshall Sahlins, who takes Karl Jasper's notion of the Axial Age as a paradigm for his approach to religion.<sup>20</sup> When defining the origin of religion, we must also add the dimension of relational bonding within intraspecific groups as expressed in ancestor worship,<sup>21</sup> since social bonding with ancestors marked the first step in building a concatenated network with the world beyond. The extensive archaeological evidence of the care paid to the dead reveals that when it came to the self-definition of the individual in the ancient Near East beyond the human network of family, kin, and community, ancestors offered a social network of protection that extended into the divine realm. This is supported by insights gleaned from current models of culture in the cognitive sciences as developed by Atran and others,22 who view culture as the result of concatenated individual interactions at the level of individual decisions that led to

Harcourt/de Waal 1992.


Fadhil 1990, 464, l. 4 . . . urḫu abbēšu tallik "and she went the path of her fathers."

"My father laid down and went to [. . .]" in Kottsieper 2001, 176–179; Lemaire 1998. For Hebrew examples, see Krüger 2009.

Guthrie 1993.

macrostructural norms from the bottom up rather than as a set of ideas and beliefs imposed from above.

Beyond playing a protective role, divine agents in polytheistic systems function as carriers of identity either for individuals or groups and as intermediaries in a chain of divine command. They define not only the self, but also membership in a family as well as in larger social entities such as the tribe or city state. In the historical era, these various layers of identities are reflected in personal sentence names such as "My-God-Is-My-Father" (Abī-ilī), "My-City-Is-Good" (Ālī-ṭāb), "The-God-Is-The-City" (Ālum-īlum), "Ishtar-Is-My-Mother" (Eštar-ummī), and "Shamash-Is-The-Clan" (Šamaš-Illat).

In this concatenated network, ancestor spirits, protective spirits (<sup>d</sup> LAMMA), the personal god (ilu) and goddess (ishtar), as well as the god of the family<sup>23</sup> operate as the primary divine agents that establish membership in the social unit of the household. Once the individual finds him/herself in a larger network of an urban environment, this protective network that defines the identity of a person falls under the aegis of the patron deity of the city to which the household belongs. Within this concatenated social and divine network, it is the ancestor spirits that provide the historical dimension of identity, while the family gods and, on a greater scale, the city god represent the local spatial dimension of identity. In antiquity, these two social frameworks operated as primary relational constructs and defined the membershipidentity of the individual. As society grew more complex, so too did the identities of the individuals within it, who now bonded with a host of divine agents to build a supportive network similar to that of their other social networks within the larger community. Thus, the divine agents that established the role-identities of individuals and larger social units also helped structure behavior during social interactions,24 as exemplified primarily in mythological narratives as well as in a passage in The Righteous Sufferer (Ludlul Bēl Nēmeqi), which refers to all the protective forces that have abandoned the protagonist due to the wrath of Marduk, chief god of the pantheon:

From the day my Lord punished me, And the warrior Marduk became furious with me, My own god forsook me and went up his mountain, My goddess left and departed elsewhere, My protective spirit (šēdu) of benevolence split away from my side, My guardian spirit (lamassu) took fright and sought someone else. "I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom", Tablet I.41–44<sup>25</sup>

The notion of the person as a socially embedded entity rather than an individual in the western modern sense is crucial to our interpretation of what religion does and how divinity was perceived in the ancient Near East.

On the family god, see van der Toorn 1996, 66–93; Charpin 1990; Veenhof 2018.

Cast 2003, 41–53; Bell/Hansen 2008.

For the latest edition, see Oshima 2014.

In the 5th and 4th millennium BCE, monumental temple structures built on terraces and thus visible from a distance from the alluvial plain of southern Mesopotamia developed into economic households and signifiers for the community engaged with their provisioning. A diversified assemblage of archaeological remains indicates that urban communities identified with the temple and its patron divinity and that this was central to the way in which they shaped their identity. Below I list the early evidence from the city of Uruk in Southern Mesopotamia:

(1) Sealings on bullae containing tokens meant to keep track of commodity transactions display images of everyday agricultural and pastoral activities, fishing, and weaving, on the one hand, and ritual scenes with a bearded man wearing a headband and net robe, on the other. (2) This figure, which modern scholarship has termed the "priest-king," occurs repeatedly in the company of the goddess Inanna, who is represented in the form of her symbol, the reed bundle, which developed into the logographic sign used to write her name in the fourth millennium. (3) Beyond his presence on glyptic remains, the priest-king also appears in the uppermost register of the famous Uruk Vase, where, representing the community, he offers the abundant output of the fields and pasture to the goddess. (4) This same figure, however, is also shown confronting wild lions, as in the Hunting Stela, or facing captives bound in all sorts of distorted positions, as in sealings. The last of these attests to a leader at the top of a social hierarchy who enjoys control over life and death. (5) Some of the sealings attested during the transition from Uruk III to the Early Dynastic I Period (ca. 2900–2800 BCE) display logographic writings of the city names that combine a pictograph for pedestal with the symbol of the patron divinity of the respective city including AB(èš)-utu (sanctuary of (the sun god) Utu/Shamash) for the city of Larsa, AB(èš)-ùri (sanctuary of (the moon god) Nanna) for Ur and AB(èš)-mùš (sanctuary of (the goddess) Ishtar) for Zabalam. The names of the cities in these seals included Kesh, Larsa, Uruk, Nippur, Zabalam, Ku'ara/ Urum (?), Kutha (?), Eridu, Adab, and UB (?), i.e. important urban and cultic centers in early Southern Mesopotamia.26 Such logographic writing again attests to the importance of the patron deity and his or her temple as a carrier of identity. Because the sealings were found on jars and receipts in their respective cities, these City Seals<sup>27</sup> have been studied primarily from an economic perspective under the assumption that they speak to their economic ties with Uruk.28 What matters in our investigation is that the temples

Sallaberger 2010, 33 assumes AB as "place" in a more general sense because in UD.GAL.NUN orthography AB/UNUG corresponds to ki or "place." His claim that because the office of the sanga, generally regarded as an administrator of the temple, is also associated with the é-gal in Lagash, AB should be interpreted as a profane institution, is not convincing because the administrative complex of the queen in Lagash is dedicated to the goddess Bau, so the modern distinction between sacred and profane cannot be applied to an ancient context. Wang 2011 assumes that the early writing for Nippur is EN.KID in the Archaic City Seals designating a toponym /nibru/ which was read /ellil/ only later.

Matthews 1993; Steinkeller 2002; Wang 2011.

See most recently Selz 2020.

in these cities as represented by the patron divinities' names on the seals also served as major economic households, thereby pointing to an understanding of divinity as a major landowner in the urban sphere as well as the foremost protective force.

The advent of writing in the second half of the fourth millennium BCE saw administrative texts referring to offerings made to Inanna-evening-star, Inanna-morning-star, and Inanna-prince,29 thereby revealing the astral manifestations of Inanna aside from her conceptualization in anthropomorphic terms. Such written evidence is complemented by the imagery of a seal in the former Erlenmeyer Collection that likewise dates to the late fourth millennium BCE. On it, the archaic symbols for the rising and setting sun in combination with a star and a drum may be read as the "Festival for the Rising and Setting Venus." 30

To conclude, in Uruk, the archaeological and written evidence from the fourth millennium BCE attests to a complex conceptualization of divinity, which was imagined as a mentalized agent that could be imagined anthropomorphically and represented in astral terms, by a symbol or an emblematic animal.

It is another five hundred years before we get the earliest evidence of the practice of categorizing and systematizing divinities in god lists. So far, such god lists have been discovered in the cities of Fara and Abu Salabikh to the north of Uruk,<sup>31</sup> not in Uruk itself. The god list from Fara in its reconstructed form with ten columns on each side of the tablet contained around 560 divine names. A good many of these names – over 40% – include the sign NIN, which stands for either "lord" or "lady" when combined with a particular profession or activity, such as "Lady-Birth-Brick," "Lady Scepter," "Lord of the Granary," etc. These Early Dynastic god lists begin with those we know as the leading divinities from later god lists and mythology including the heaven god An, followed by Enlil, later chief god of the Sumero-Babylonian pantheon, the goddess Inanna, Enki, god of the fresh water ocean, the moon god Nanna, the sun god Utu, the Divine Crown, and the goddess Nisaba, patron deity of writing. The rest of the god names can be grouped as follows: (1) divine/deified emblems and paraphernalia, such as "the (deified) Crown is a Protective Goddess" etc.; (2) deified professions or offices, such as "A (Divine) Seaman," "The Brick-Maker of the Temple," "The Prince Gudu-Priest," etc.; and (3) cultural achievements or properties such as "The Incense," "The Brazier," "The Kettle," etc.<sup>32</sup> These last categories pertain to the contemporary economic and administrative spheres in the urban life of the Sumerian city states. Since an entire section on divinities responsible for particular tasks in the temple district of Eanna in Uruk is included in the list, some scholars have suggested that such lists must have existed in Archaic Uruk as well, though none have been found so far. The deification of the multiple entities involved in the operation of the temple as

Sarzyńska 1993.

Woods 2011.

Krebernik 1986.

Selz 2008.

household with its massive bureaucracy and extremely diversified body of labor reveals an awareness of and appreciation for the cultural achievements of urban civilization. The act of deifying these entities turns the divine world into an integrated system of action (Handlungssystem) that keeps urban life and the cosmos running – one that cannot be explained by the notion of a universal animism of the cosmos. In the textualization process, these god lists belong alongside other lexicographic series, such as the profession list, the various lists of woods, metals, stones, etc., and are thus a product of the scholarly mind reflecting on cultural experience. With the growth of city states into territorial states, scholars began systematizing the ever-expanding pantheon according to other principles, such as genealogy and kinship, and the model of court retinue on a local, regional, and supra-regional level. Thus, entities such as deified offices, cultural achievements, etc. disappeared to a large degree. However, treaties concluded in Northern Mesopotamia and Northern Syria including the Syro-Hittite realm of control might include deified natural phenomena such as mountains, the land, rivers, heaven and earth beside members of the panthea of the treaty parties.33

I have dwelled here on very early architecture, monuments, and iconography because by the time of the earliest known writing and the god lists, the people of Greater Mesopotamia had been living in complex urban spaces – first in the north, then also in the south – for at least a thousand years. By the Late Uruk period, i.e., the end of the fourth millennium BCE, Uruk had a population of 40,000, a hierarchical structure, delegated responsibilities, and a diversified labor force. Such social experience led to a conceptualization of the divine world in which relational constructs with the divine were based largely on social frameworks and political organization rather than on individual choice. Religion thus operated as a resource in the construction of the self as an embedded entity.

Archaeological evidence reveals that the complex and sophisticated polytheistic world that we encounter much later in textual sources is the result of a long adaptive and cumulative cognitive process of cultural transmission and modification. The conceptualization of the divine world through religious expression presents itself as the outcome of social and cultural learning.<sup>34</sup>

See the treaty between Till-Abnu of Apum and Assur (Kitchen/Lawrence 2012, no. 24), and the treaty between Suppiluliuma I of Hatti and Huqqana of Hayasa (Beckman 2012, no. 3) and several more in this volume. Such entities, in addition to the city, the city wall the mortar, and the brick, even though not deified will range among the divinities supposed bless the king, the city of Assur and the land of Assyria in the Takultu Ritual (Parpola 2017, nos. 38 and 40). Moreover, they might appear in incantations of purification rituals, however, again not deified, see Perdibon 2019, chapter 2, for instance.

Cultural learning includes "imitative learning, instructed learning and collaborative learning" based primarily on reconstruction; Tomasello 2000. See, however, recent approaches that show that memory and communication "involve reconstruction rather than copying of the material remembered or communicated" (Sperber/Hirschfeld, 2004).

As time went on, the god lists retained the notion of primordial gods but largely ceased deifying offices and professions, and instead began favoring a polytheistic pantheon structured as an Integrated System of Action (Handlungssystem), which – according to models of conflict and cooperation – presupposes that the gods act coherently.35 Such an integrated system of action entails multiple dimensions, including cosmography, local and regional cults, and myth, all of which are again structured according to entourage, i.e., the hierarchical notion of a royal court, genealogy, and familial relations, with both powerful and less important divinities.36 The gods were organized hierarchically and were differentiated according to their roles and functions on the local as well as regional and supra-regional levels.<sup>37</sup> Within this integrated system of action, each member of the pantheon contributed to the maintenance of the cosmic order, just as in human society, functions and roles are differentiated for the sake of the survival of the whole. This notion is conveyed in the Sumerian myth of Enki and the World Order, <sup>38</sup> in which Enki assigns particular functions to specific divinities. In addition, this semantic dimension of the pantheon – which grants specific functions to certain types of deities – initially allowed for the equation of Sumerian and Assyro-Babylonian divinities in the later god lists as well as the cross-cultural translation of deities in the international context of antiquity.39 The translation of deities occurred particularly in political texts, such as international treaties and letters, and grew from a theological discourse on the categories and typologies of deities that arose with the Club of Powers during the Late Bronze Age in the ancient Near East.

Divine functions, roles, and status came with particular material signifiers or appurtenances – Akkadian simtu – which were appropriate and necessary for conveying the particular position of a person or a divinity within the social network or pantheon. The notion of simtu as characterizing the appearance (šiknu) of the divinity and conveying his or her particular role within the pantheon is addressed in Nabûapla-iddina's Sun God Tablet, <sup>40</sup> whose text discusses the need for the king to know the original image and appearance of the sun god as conceived in times of yore. In other words, the ancients distinguished between a divine "archetypal" image and its materialization in the cultic image or other representations. Any appurtenances, signifiers, and cultic paraphernalia could be assigned divine status and even result in cultic ven-

I adopt this approach from my former teacher Burkard Gladigow 1983; see also Gladigow 1990, Gladigow 1997, and Gladigow 1998.

Krebernik 2002.

Gladigow 1979; Uehlinger 2008. For the variety of panthea in a particular culture, see Sallaberger 2004, who adduces the concept of the "ethnic pantheon", the cultic and mythic pantheon, and the pantheon of the individual.

Black et al. 1998–2006; see also Galter 1983 and Espak 2015. Jerrold S. Cooper is preparing a new edition of the myth.

On the notion of the translation of divinities, see Wilson 1950, 249; Assmann 1996; Smith 2008; Pongratz-Leisten 2011.

Woods 2004.

eration such as the provision of offerings. However, as I have argued elsewhere, such assignment of divine status to paraphernalia generally did not result in the same scope of agency characterizing the divinity itself.41

It is here where I would like to return to the notion of an animated universe. It seems to me that while some cosmic and natural phenomena could be controlled by certain divinities, as the heavens were by the god Anu, storm and thunder by the storm god, and the moon and sun by Nanna/Sîn and Utu/Shamash, many divinities, such as those associated with various types of vegetation or fire, or river and mountain gods, were immobilized, that is, bound to their particular natural phenomenon and thus restricted in terms of the scope of their agency. In other words, though such phenomena reflect the notion of an animated universe, human-divine interaction and relational bonding was selective and varied immensely according to the status or role of a particular divine counterpart.

The conceptualization of specific types of divinities with particular scopes of functions and roles42 did more than enable the intra‑ and cross-cultural translation of divinities; any human interaction with divinity required an adequate knowledge of ritual and ritual conduct for communication to be successful. As such communication was always context-bound and situational, the divinity had to be properly addressed if the interaction were to be successful. Beyond the actual name of the divinity, a proper address required the use of suitable by-names, epithets, and titles. All of these combined ensured the divinity's attention. They also framed the interaction in a way that specified the divinity's scope of agency in that particular context. In this way, the name and epithets shielded the worshipper against misinterpretation and unintended side effects. They set limits on the divinity's principal mobility and freedom of action in certain local and functional respects.43 Prayer literature from Assyria and Babylonia reveals that whatever the localized situation of the address to a divinity may have been, the invocation was informed by local cultic as well as supra-regional mythological and theological traditions, thus reflecting the need for expertise and knowledge in any successful interaction with a divinity. In other words, knowledge of the theological discourse on the gods as conveyed in god lists and myth deeply informed any successful interaction with the gods.

In this context, I would like to stress the importance of distinguishing between god names and epithets, as other have suggested by using the situational context as the framing device for the assignment of names, and speaking of "Augenblicksgötter" in the context of performance, i.e., religion in the making.<sup>44</sup> Assuming the ancient Near Eastern perspective, I suggest that while a divinity can be addressed by his or

Pongratz-Leisten in press.

On the notion of the type rather than individual personhood in the ancient conceptualization of the person, see Kippenberg 1990, 115–116.

Pongratz-Leisten in press, 630.

Bonnet/Galoppin 2021.

her particular name, but also by the names of other divinities, the purpose of such an invocation would lie in aggrandizing the scope of divine agency at a particular moment by amassing the functions associated with these other divinities. Ultimately, however, the worshipper would always relate to the particular divinity by its primary name. The other names would define the particular scope of agency at a particular moment in time and would thus function similarly to epithets.

My intention in this short contribution has been to provide a more nuanced approach to the interaction between the human and the divine and to correct the adoption of the anthropological approach to the origin of religion in the ancient Near East, which emphasizes an animistic world view. Rather than provide clues on early expressions of spirituality, on the basis of the archaeological evidence and ancient god lists I have suggested taking the status of the individual as embedded in the social network of the family household and the city as the point of departure and focusing on the conceptualization of the relational constructs between the individual and the divine, including the concatenated network that extended from deified ancestors through the protective genius, personal god, family god, patron divinity of the city, and members of the regional and supraregional panthea to the chief god of the pantheon.

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# Philippe Borgeaud Naming the Gods between Immanence and Transcendence in Greco-Roman Polytheisms

Livy spoke most often of the gods at work in history, not by distinguishing them from one another, but rather by designating them as a community of gods, as Jörg Rüpke notes in this book.<sup>1</sup> The Roman historian thus reduced the divine plurality to a collectivity, occasionally signified by the use of the word numen and the expression magnum deorum numen (the great numen of the gods). Rüpke proposes that we recognise the idea of a "religion" in Livy, not in the sense of the Latin word religio, but rather the sense in which we understand it today. This philosophical piety was addressed to the "gods" as a collective entity. It was not concerned with naming the gods. Rüpke qualifies this last activity as "second order". It is, however, the one that the priestly business of the Roman magistrates deals with, in a very scrupulous way.

Livy would thus have conceived of the power of the gods in the way the most ancient Pelasgians did, who Herodotus asserted named the gods (προσωνόμασαν) simply "gods" (θεοὺς), before they had their names.2 The comparison of Livy and Herodotus may seem audacious, but it shows that thinkers, in Rome as in Greece, were able to reflect on what preceded the attribution of their names to the gods: in other words, what would be a religion before religions. This question deserves to be put in relation to those posed by other forms of polarity (between before and after), which appear in our studies and are rooted in terrains that are often very different from one another.

Anthropologist Marshall Sahlins, in his latest book, reminds us of something obvious: human finitude, a universal experience if ever there was one, is matched by the multitude of instances that he proposes to designate by the expression "meta-persons", a multitude that varies culturally in its manifestations. In the most diverse regions, be they Christian or non-Christian, many humans interact daily with countless instances that are more or less familiar to them. Those who recognise their presence do not necessarily consider them supernatural. On the contrary, these mysterious entities are very often "people like us". Even when they do not have human form, these beings are endowed with a subjective interiority (personhood) in the same way as us. The Christianised and Westernised world officially considers them illusory, outside the real world. But for those who have the experience, they are, on the contrary, among us, they live with us, trade with us, accompany and influence our actions, give them their

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-044

Cf. supra, 132–135.

Cf. supra, 595–597, the relevant reflections of Palamidis.

effectiveness or undermine it. They are persons, other than human, with the qualities of human persons but with powers superior to those of humans. Such is, says Sahlins, the enchanted universe of immanence cultures. The human world is conceived as part of a larger world where the boundaries between society and cosmos do not exist.

The gods that interest Sahlins belong to societies known to ethnologists, which still (more or less) escaped Christianisation and the imposed transcendence of a creator god. These societies live and feel the world in an immanentist way, unlike many Westernised and Christianised humans. They have other ontologies, as pointed out by anthropologists such as Alen Strathern, Viveiros de Castro and Philippe Descola, who have been in constant conversation for a long time, while working, each on their own side, on what Sahlins has called An Anthropology of Most of the Humanity (subtitle of his latest book).<sup>3</sup>

The potential usefulness of this category, "cultures of immanence", will be remembered when dealing with ancient polytheisms. Cultures of immanence are those where the gods stand alongside humans and are not essentially distinct from them. Those where the gods, the world and the humans do not constitute isolated strata from each other.

We have recently experienced what has been called an emotional or affective turn, quite similar to the ontological turn, which incites us to pay great attention to animistic perceptions, to feelings, colours, scents, divine odours and tastes. I am thinking here of someone who does not theorize about it, but who seems to me to be a good example, Adeline Grand-Clément. In Au plaisir des dieux<sup>4</sup> she shows how the Greek individual feels the world, to what extent she/he has to deal with sensations and how much she/he also appear to be a being who is collective and inhabited by a plurality of meta-human instances. Adeline Grand-Clément has developed the Greek notion of synesthesia in order to try to shed light on what happens in a divine ritual, in terms of sensation, in the individual in relation to the group. Just as there are communities sharing emotions, these same communities share sensations.

The ritual synesthesia that interests Adeline Grand Clément is similar to the sunaisthesis of the ancient Greeks, literally a "co-perception, simultaneous perception". The noun appears in our sources only from the end of the classical period. Its etymology (aisthesis, "perception", and sun‑ "with", "together") points to two possible sets of meanings, depending on how one interprets sun-: the fact of perceiving in company with others; the fact of perceiving in several ways, in a kind of co-presence of the senses. We find this double semantic meaning in the uses of the verb sunaisthanomai ("to perceive together, simultaneously").

Aristotle uses the concept of sunaisthesis twice in the Nicomachean Ethics. The first time to evoke the happiness that well-educated people (agathoi) derive from the

Descola 2005; Viveiros de Castro 2020; Sahlins 2022 (esp. 70–71); Strathern 2022.

Grand-Clément 2023.

feeling of their own existence: those who "feel" this good in itself (id est, the fact of living) take intense pleasure in it. Here, the sunaisthesis operates on an individual scale and provides a delightful feeling. Even though it is a question of community of life, the notion of sunaisthesis engages the completeness of an individual experience. Aristotle does not specify whether this experience is based on the mobilisation of all the senses together. But this full presence of oneself and the world can be put in relation with the existence of a sixth sense identified by the Philosopher: the "common sense" (aísthesis koine), which allows simultaneous perception because it coordinates the received sensory information and unifies the knowledge – which corresponds to the "inner touch", the fact of feeling alive, the perception that every sensory being has of its life.5

Prefiguring Sahlins' analysis, Marcel Detienne was fond of reminding us that the vast majority of humanity is polytheistic, and that monotheism would only ever be an exception. The polytheism explored by Detienne is also a universe of immanence and sensations: "In Greek land and under polytheistic regime, there is no abyss between men and gods. To every sacrifice, to every offering accomplished in one of the tens of sanctuaries of the smallest of the cities, a divine power is there, which discreetly comes, dressed of mist, to the meeting of the sacrifice. Until the third century of our era, pious inscriptions recall how much, each time, the god or the goddess manifested his action visibly, sometimes even by leaving prints of his steps". <sup>6</sup> Unlike the immanence of the fields of Sahlins, the immanence of the polytheisms studied by Detienne is however relative. Hesiod is, for us, the theorist of this relativity. The testing of the gods by men, at the instigation of the Titan Prometheus, marks the end of the commensality in his account (in its two variants). By dividing (in the Theogony) the common meal into two parts, one beautiful in appearance but inedible, the other ugly but succulent, Prometheus establishes a discrimination that, until then, had no reason to exist. He thinks he can fool Zeus and make the gods look inferior to humans. Zeus is not deceived, he consciously chooses what Prometheus presents as the bad part for the gods, but he also gets angry and overturns the table. In doing so, he fixes the part suitable for the gods' superiority forever. Clearly distinct from humans, the immortals will not be carnivorous, they will instead be satisfied with perfumes and the sacrificial smoke. They have chosen life. On earth, the human condition is defined (especially in The Works and Days) by the loss of an immediacy, of a transparency to the world. The fire that, up until then, offered itself spontaneously must now be nurtured. One can thus see, in the movement that removes the gods and leads to the necessity of a series of mediations, the history of a loss of immanence, but a relative loss, a retreat and not a negation.

Grand-Clément 2023, esp. 386–388.

Detienne 2007, 58–59.

While they sit in glory on the inaccessible Olympus, the gods come to visit the earth, dressed in mist. Countless demons (daimones) circulate, monitoring human actions. In a few words, those of the old Thales quoted by Plato, "the world is full of gods").<sup>7</sup> Hesiodic theory thus sets up a mechanism of both immanence and transcendence. This should help us to better think – by differential comparison with what one observes in the Near Eastern contexts and even further afield, before the advent of Christianity – the constitution of hierarchical and localised pantheons out of reach, apart from ritual or sacrifices. The estrangement of the gods has a very long history.

A clear distinction must be made between the more or less transcendent deities of the great polytheistic cultures (those of Olympus, those of the Council gathered around Marduk) and the immanent proliferation of animistic instances so dear to Sahlins. The passage from one to the other could be compared, mutatis mutandis, to the process which leads from the anonymous gods of the first Pelasgians to the gods endowed with names and images in Herodotus, or to the one which would form the bridge between the great numen of the gods in Livy and the gods of the civil religion of Varro. A detour through the cultures of immanence could thus help us to better perceive the originality of the ancient pantheons, to consider them in their fluidity, at a time when the question surrounding the "presentification" of the entities that compose them, linked to that of the nomination, is being asked.

Readers of the Hebrew and Christian Bible have been encouraged, notably by Thomas Römer, to ask themselves the question of the emergence of a common name, "God" (or even "Lord", "Father"), to designate a sovereign entity that was probably initially to be given one or more proper names, according to its local inscriptions: Yahweh, El . . . This idea of the construction, in history, of a name that suits a universal identity, is remarkable.8

The question of the "invention of God" can nevertheless be related to a completely different scenario, well attested, but which reverses it: when a deity (with no claim to universality) is deprived of a proper name from the outset. Baal (bʿl), for example, on the Phoenician side, is not a proper name. Many gods, however, have their names constructed with the element bʿl associated with a determiner (mostly a toponym): these are all sovereign gods of a particular city and/or territory. Even though there is no such thing as a god Baal (as such), there are a multitude of Baals that are all different from each other. Associated with a topographical epiclesis, bʿl indeed designates a metahuman instance.9

Other scenarios are possible. At first glance, it would appear that this applies to the Mother, or "Mother of the gods", as it does to Baal. This Mother (Meter in Greek, Matar in Phrygian) does not have a proper name. How, then, is she addressed in a

Thales Fr. 89 (ed. Kirk/Raven/Schofield 1995, 99–102, with a rich commentary).

Römer 2014.

See in this volume the contribution of Garbati/Porzia, supra, 381–382.

cult corresponding to a local or circumstantial expectation? Her identity is fragmented, specified by epicleses in as many local deities: Mother of Dindyme, of mount Sipylus, of Agdus, of mount Ida, etc . . . But in Athens, however, it is indeed the Mother, or the Mother of the gods, not otherwise named, who receives a cult on the Agora. What, then, does her name actually mean: the maternity, the strength or the sovereign power? All of this at the same time, under the perspective of strangeness and ancestrality. But this divinity is not an abstract personification. The Mother is able to attack whoever resists her, like a voodoo loa.

As a rule, the names of the gods in Greek polytheism need epicleses to become operative. The study of Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge on L'Aphrodite grecque<sup>10</sup> represents, from this point of view, an essential milestone in our studies. A divinity that appears under the same name in literature as well as in the most diverse cultic practices was approached not to reduce her to a unitary and supposedly original figure, but rather to describe her action through the richness of her multiple anchorages, in the diversified contexts of a plurality of cities and local pantheons, where her presence imposes itself as an obviousness that is different each time, specified by the multiplicity of her epicleses. This immersion in lived diversity was invigorating, insofar as it made it possible to escape from a synthesised image.

The god, as we know, always remains beneath his name. The ways of naming him are thus manifold. The singer often wonders, in the Greek hymns, how to address the divinity in order to please him. It is not rare for him to hesitate at the time of the nomination. This is obvious, in particular in the poetry of aretalogies, by the use of: "whoever you are". <sup>11</sup> The search for etymologies moves in the same direction, that of a quest for the reality of the god behind his appearance.12 It thus happens that a divine instance can be designated by the assemblage of two deities, which function as mirror images, in an etymological way: Zeus and his feminine double (Dione) in Dodona, Pan and Pasa in Bouthrotos.13 Another technique just as sophisticated as the choice of a name for the deity, the visual representation, plays with the iconographical attributes. These "bricolages" raise the question of the relationship between visual semantics and nominal semantics.14 The name, in fact, at least for the Greeks, refers to an image.

When the interpretation of a foreign god turns into a god known to the Greeks or Romans, it is necessary to take into account not only the real functions which are not inevitably determining, but also the appearance, the semblance.15 To designate means to recognise, whereas uncertainty appears as an essential characteristic of the Greek attitude towards the divine.

Pirenne-Delforge 1994.

Cf. Herrero de Jáuregui, supra, 111–115.

See the contribution of Padovani, supra, 622–624.

Quantin, supra, 415–416.

This question is addressed in the essays by Gaifman and Jaccottet, supra, 249–269 and 271-–297.

For the gods in translation, see Rutherford, supra, 801–824.

The names attributed to the gods, their nominations, are unquestionably decisive operators that deserve to be emphasized, as this book quite rightly does.

### Bibliography

Descola, Philippe (2005), Par-delà nature et culture, Paris.

Detienne, Marcel (2007), Les Dieux d'Orphée, Paris.

Grand-Clément, Adeline (2023), Au plaisir des dieux. Expériences du sensible dans les rituels en Grèce ancienne, Toulouse.

Pirenne-Delforge, Vinciane (1994), L'Aphrodite grecque, Liège.

Römer, Thomas (2014), L'invention de Dieu, Paris.

Sahlins, Marshall (2022), The New Science of the Enchanted Universe. An Anthropology of Most of Humanity, Chicago.

Strathern, Alen (2022), "The Two Forms of Religion: Being and Nothingness", in: A. Azfar Moin / Alan Strathern (eds.), Sacred Kingship in World History. Between Immanence and Transcendence, New York. Viveiros de Castro, Eduardo (2020), L'inconstance de l'âme sauvage, Genève.

Kirk, Geoffrey Stephen / Raven, John Earle / Schofield, Malcolm, (1995), Les philosophes présocratiques, Fribourg.

# Gods, heroes, mythical figures

Divine epithets are linked to the corresponding divine names; a generic entry "Epithets" gathers all the epithets that are considered in their general meaning or that are not linked to specific deities.

'bk 493, 507 'dm 373, 493, 507 'šr 507 Aaron 680, 744, 746, 750 Abraham 17, 541, 542, 679, 680, 720, 803 Abrasax 648, 650, 664 Achebukrōm 649, 661, 663 Acheloos 415 Achilles 208, 224, 419, 592, 593, 628 Adad/Adados 53, 167, 170, 177, 178 (see also Hadad) Adamma 374 Adon/Adonay/Adonis/'adôn 79, 81, 86, 87, 179, 371, 587, 648, 649, 663, 736–738 (see also Lord) Aegistus 631 Aesculapius 131 (see also Asclepios/Asklepios) Agathosdaimon 343 Agamemnon 111, 224, 395, 614, 623, 624, 630, 631 Ahuramazda 519 Aigaion (see Briareus) Akeso 215 Ala 308, 481 Ammon/Amun-Ra/Re/'mn 19, 74, 327, 329, 338, 341, 343, 344, 493, 507, 801, 803–808, 813, 815, 818 (see also Zeus Ammon; Ra/Re) Amphiaraos 226, 293 Amphilochos 226 An/Anu 42, 44, 45, 47, 53, 148–150, 834, 837 Anaktes Paides 601 (see also Epithets>Anax/ Anassa) Anat/ʽnt 493, 506 – Anatbetʾel 519 – Anatyahu 519 Anemoi 61 Antilibanos 376 Aphlad 545 Aphrodite 11, 20–22, 108, 114, 147, 187, 191, 196, 198, 225, 394, 397, 415, 420, 436, 442, 465, 561, 588, 593, 594, 610, 623, 624, 626, 791, 794, 808 – Euploia 62 – Kypris 105, 606

– Kythereia 105, 593 – Machanitis 598 – Nauarchis 67 – Ourania 64 – Pontia 286 – Stratonikis 563 Apis 407, 408, 814 Apollo 10, 20–24, 65, 86, 103–108, 116, 125–127, 130, 131, 142, 186, 188, 192, 205–232, 241, 243, 245, 246, 249–266, 271, 278–285, 287–289, 292, 363, 391, 394, 413, 415, 423–431, 448, 456, 479, 559, 561, 564, 588, 594, 602–606, 611, 613, 625, 629–633, 656, 707, 709, 713, 723, 724, 726–729, 749, 781–795, 801, 808, 810–812, 816 (see also Delian Triad) – Akersekomas 426, 427 – Akesios 218 – Akestor 219, 220 – Alexikakos 211, 215, 218, 229 – Amyklos 377 – Aphetor 628 – Citharoedus/Kitharoidos 243, 252, 257–259, 262, 283, 284, 810 – Of Daphne 283, 284, 405 – Daphnephoros 264, 266 – Delios 106, 363, 810 – Delphikos 106, 810 – Delphinios 215, 216, 229, 230, 426, 594, 781–795 – Didumeus 559 – Hekebolos 103 – Iatros 207, 224–230 – Kareios 283 – Karneios 806 – Kitharoidos (see Citharoedus) – Klarios/Clarios/Of Claros 108, 142, 802, 805 – Koliorgon 437 – Krateanos 280, 283 – Ktistes 558, 793 – Leonteios 280 – Libotenos 280 – Lukegenes 588, 629–633

– Lukoktonos 630

– Lycian/Lukeios/Lukios/Lycius 229, 629–633, 635, 636, 782 – Maleatas 205, 215, 229 – Medicus 228 – Moiragetes 605 – Mousegetes 397 – Numphagetes 397 – Oulios 21, 221–224 – Paieon 206, 207 – Patro(i)os 142, 218, 245, 249–251, 255–259, 261–265, 396, 637 – Philesios 788 – Phoibos 103, 105–107, 219, 426, 564, 656, 659, 793, 816 – Prostaterios 142, 212, 232 – Pythicus 134 – Pythios 106, 130, 200, 261, 287, 604, 794 – Smintheus 99, 106, 116, 603, 606, 628 – Thargelian 229 – Thermios 207 – Tilphossios 793 – Who reigns over Borysthenes 228 – Who reigns over Istros 228 Appaluwa 782–788 Arbilītu/Urbilītu 148, 154 Ares 196, 223, 396, 400, 591, 592, 709 (see also Zeus Ares) – Hoplophoros of Zeus Great King 401 (see also Zeus Ares) – Oulios 223 Aristomachos 226 Arkesimas 483 Arma 475, 481–483 (see also Moon-God) Arq-Rešep 173 (see also Rešep) Artemis 13, 20, 21, 23, 24, 72, 104, 106, 114, 126, 186, 188, 191, 192, 196, 198, 212, 222, 223, 253, 260, 261, 264, 265, 271, 279, 291, 363, 391, 394, 405, 413, 415, 422–431, 435, 445, 446, 448, 456, 556, 558, 561, 602, 603, 606, 749, 788, 808 (see also Delian Triad) – Adrastea 423 – Agrota 424, 425 – Agrotera 423, 424 – Apanchomene 598 – Aristoboule 603 – Boulaia 212 – Brauronia 290 – Ephesia 127, 442, 450 – At Ephesos 803 – Euergetis 556 – Eustephanos 191 – Hagne 191 – Hegemone 428 – Hyakinthotrophos 451 – Kelkaia 421 – Kindyas 440 – Kokkoka 588 – Kondyleatis 598 – En Korazois 437 – Kuria/Kyria 561 – Leucophryene/Leukophryene 555, 556, 607–609 – Limnatis 423 – Orthosia 68 – En Panamarois 437 – Peldekeitis 437 – Perasia 304 – Phosphoros 24, 212 – Proskopa 424 – Pythie 559 – Soteira 423, 424, 561 Asclepios/Asklepios 21, 22, 111, 116, 144, 145, 205–232, 263, 264, 279, 290, 292, 293, 295, 353, 394, 555, 561, 563, 564, 565, 577, 613, 749, 801, 802, 804, 808, 811, 813–818 – Alkter 207–209 – Alexeter 209, 210 – Alexikakos 211–215 – Alexiponos 210, 211 – Balagreites 226 – Culculsenus 813 – Ieter/Iatros 226–229 – Kotyleus 598 – Lebenaios 226 – Of Memphis 815 – Moironomos 608 – Neos 613 – Soter 563, 563 – Titanios 226, 818 – Zimidrenus 813 Assur/Aššur 51, 53, 149, 152, 154–156, 164, 176 Assyria Regina Dolichena 316 Astarte/ʽštrt 13, 114, 147, 148, 367, 371, 376, 490, 491, 493–495, 500, 505, 508, 708, 716 Atargatis 179, 532, 537, 538, 545, 561, 808 Athena 19–21, 65, 104, 186, 192, 198, 210, 212, 226, 245, 249, 271, 362, 391, 392, 394–400, 405, 409, 415, 431, 442, 479, 481, 545, 561, 564, 593, 602–604, 609, 611, 629, 769, 782, 791

– Agelaa 264 – Anassa 191 – Apotropaia 769 – Areia 400 – Dios Koure 19 – Epieranos 481 – Epikouros 481 – Episkopos 481 – Ergane 599 – Glaukopis 391, 395 – Lindia 608 – Nike 206 – Nikephoros 198, 604, 606 – Pallas 21, 65, 104, 107, 545, 593 – Parthenos 258, 262 – Phratria 476 – Polias 20, 398, 399, 423, 439 – Soteira 399, 400, 561 Attis 773 Atumnebʾon 519 Auxesia 622 Auxo 400 Azizos 544 Baal/Baʿal/bʽl 5, 13, 36, 168, 243, 361, 365–385, 467, 490–509, 675, 676, 749, 794, 812, 846 (see also Bel/Bʿel/Bēl/Belos) Baalat (Gubal) 36, 361, 368, 373, 383 Baal Hammon/bʽl ḥmn 368, 373, 375, 378, 379, 497, 502, 504, 709, 804, 807 Baal Hor 378 Baal Lebanon 375, 379, 385 Baal Oz 376–381, 385 Baal Kty 379–381, 385 Baal Saphon/bʽl ṣpn 36, 368, 373, 375 Baʿalšamayin/Baalshamem/Baalshamin/ Baal-Shamin/Bʿelšemayin 178–180, 368, 373, 375, 537, 545, 716 Bacchus 774 – Ogygius 774 Bainchōōōch 658, 659 Banit 518, 519, 521, 717 Barada 179 Bastet/'bst 507 Bel/Bʿel/Bēl/Belos 16, 36, 152, 380, 519, 545, 708, 807 (see also Baal; Marduk; Zeus) Bēlet-ilī 53 Bellona 129, 130 Bes 351

Bethel 514–527, 717 Biathiar 648–655, 663, 664 Boreas 61 Brathy 376 Briareus 592–594 Cabiri 601, 602 (see also Kabiros) Cassandra 575, 631 Cassius 376 Castor 601, 714 (see also Dioscuri/Dioskouroi) Centaur 210, 422 Ceres 127, 130, 197, 221 Charites 22, 191, 192, 596, 599, 600, 602, 614 Chemosh 716, 717, 722 Children Lords (see Anaktes Paides) Coronis 210, 226 Cybele/Kybele 278, 279, 285, 299, 300, 424, 773 (see also Mater Magna) Dadi 523 Daimon/Daimones 68, 112, 211, 563, 599, 610, 611, 660, 815, 846 Danoup chratōr 653, 655–657 Delian Triad 261, 264 (see also Apollo; Artemis; Leto) Demeter 21, 24, 74, 105, 106, 110, 114, 143–145, 185–202, 209, 221, 222, 315, 394, 396, 399, 430, 448, 465, 563, 591, 593, 624, 773, 789 – Achaia 193, 194, 196 – Aglaodoros 191 – Aglaokarpos 191 – Aidoie 191 – Amphiktuonis 195 – Anassa 191, 193 – Azesia 193, 194 – Boiotae 194 – Chloe 194, 195 – Chrusanios 194 – Chrusaoros 192 – Chthonia 195, 196 – Demoteles 194 – Despoina 65, 193 – Eleusinia 193–195 – Erinys 193, 196 – Euchloos 194 – Eukomos 191 – Euplokamos 191 – Eustephanos 191

– Hagne 191 – Horephoros 192 – Kalliplokamos 192 – Kallisphuros 192 – Kallistephanos 192 – Karpophoros 21, 194, 195 – Karpopoios 194 – Konia 195, 196 – Kuanopeplos 192 – Malophoros 195 – Naryandis 437 – Patroia 195 – Phutosporos 194 – Poluphorbe 192 – Potnia 192 – Semne 192 – Thesmophoros 185–202 – Timaochos 192 – Xanthe 192 Demophon 189, 190, 610 Deo 105, 110, 343 (see also Demeter) Deus/Dei/Di 115, 131, 132, 299, 773 – Immortales 130 – Indigetes 129, 130 – Manes (see Manes Gods) – Novensiles 129, 130 Diana 125–128, 131, 435 – Lyaea 212 Diomedes 598 Dione 363, 413–422, 430, 431, 456, 847 – Naia 415, 419 Dionysos 10, 21, 99, 104, 105, 107–110, 116, 187, 215, 224, 225, 249, 250, 279, 293–296, 394, 397, 405, 415, 416, 465, 593, 598, 605, 606, 608, 713, 721, 728, 729, 789, 792 – Briseus 563, 564 – Eleuthereus 397, 400 – Eustaphylos 605 – Hygiates 224, 605 – Iatros 224, 225 – Melainaigis 606 – Neos (see Neos Dionysos) – Oulokomes 608 – Phallen 598 – Pro Poleos 564 – Psilax 598 – Saotes 598 Dioscuri/Dioskouroi 111, 209, 227, 561, 596, 601, 602, 770 (see also Castor; Pollux)

Divi divaeque 130, 131 Dog (Demonic/divine entities) 41, 44–49, 52, 494, 504 Dusares 543 Ea/Enki 53, 481, 789, 834, 836 Earth 22, 24, 74, 75, 130, 199, 306, 316, 420, 478, 480 (see also Gaia/Ge) Echebukrōm (see Achebukrōm) Echethralios 607 Eileithyia 67, 209 – Episozousa 67, 73 – Sozousa 67 El/'El/Elohim/'Elohim 37, 79–87, 90, 96, 493, 519, 523, 525, 585, 587, 668, 670, 671, 674, 675–684, 737, 739, 748 (see also Shadday) Eloah 96, 683 Elyon/'Elyon 81, 587, 671, 739 (see also High One) Enlil 53, 149, 834 Enyalios 400 Enyo 192, 400 Epaphos 232, 807 Epithets – Anax/Anassa 65, 116, 369 (see also Anaktes Paides; Demeter) – Basileus/Basileia 65 (see also King; Poseidon; Queen; Zeus) – Despoina/Despotes 24, 65, 315, 551, 561, 565, 566 (see also Demeter; Zeus) – Enneamorphos 650, 654, 658, 664 – Epiphanes 19, 24, 26, 64, 435, 440–442453–456 (see also Hecate/Hekate; Hera; Theoi; Zeus) – Euergete/Euergetis 551–559, 563, 565, 566 (see also Artemis; Rome) – Galenaia 64 – Great 19, 20, 22, 24, 42, 43, 44, 47, 50, 51, 63, 66, 68, 83, 150, 169, 307, 335, 336, 343, 344, 392–403, 406–408, 436, 440–457, 466, 473, 482, 483, 520, 601, 644, 654, 655, 657–659, 663, 682, 691, 695, 697–699, 774, 781, 788, 808, 848 (see also God(s); Hecate; Holy One; Queen; Shausha; Zeus; Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis) – Hupsistos/Hypsistos 3, 14, 24, 362, 393, 395, 402, 437 (see also Zeus) – Ktistes 466, 551–553, 554, 558, 559, 566, 585 (see also Apollo) – Kurios/Kuria 24, 65, 81, 335, 401, 403, 407, 408, 536, 540, 541, 551, 561, 565, 566, 585, 725 (Kyrios/Kyria; see also Artemis; Zeus)

– Meilichios 64 (see also Kore; Zeus) – Merciful 14, 22, 169, 170, 172, 661, 746 – Oikistes 558, 559 – Ouranios/Ourania 64, 401 (see also Aphrodite; Queen; Zeus) – Philokaisar 554, 562, 566 – Philopatris 552–555, 560, 562, 566 (see also Zeus) – Philosarapis/Philoseprapis 554, 555 – Philosebastos 554, 562, 566 – Poliouchos 64, 423 – Potnia 65 (see also Demeter) – Semnos/Semne 561, 566 (see also Demeter; Theai>Semnai) – Soter/Soteira 109, 116, 418, 427, 466, 551–554559–566 (see also Asclepios/ Asklepios; Poseidon; Saviour; Theoi; Zeus) Ešembethel 519 Eshmun/'šmn 22, 23, 370, 381, 490, 493–497, 500, 503, 505, 508, 509, 810–813, 817 Eteocles 599, 602 Evamerion 218 Gaia/Ge 21, 22, 24, 74, 110, 190, 396, 397, 592, 605, 723 (see also Earth) Gad/Gd 20, 499, 500, 505, 506, 508, 525 Glaucus 629, 633 Glykon 613 God(s) – Of glory 93 – Of goodness 93 – Great 42, 44, 51, 169, 335, 400, 403, 426, 520, 655, 657, 808 – Of holiness 93, 94 – Philopatores 19 – Protective God 475, 480, 484 (see also Runtiya) – Pure Gods 600–602, 612 (see also Theoi>Katharoi) – Of Spirits for/and every flesh 691, 692, 750, 751 – Stag-God(dess)/(DEUS)CERVUS(2) 176, 212, 317, 475, 480, 484, 783, 834 (see also Karhuhas/ Runtiyas/Stag-God/(DEUS)CERVUS(2)) – Street Gods 44 – Unknown 113, 601, 609–613 Gorgon 249, 791 Graiai 593, 594

H' 493, 507 Hadad 22, 143–154, 167–180 (see also Adad/ Adados) – Of Damascus 176, 178, 179 – Of Lebanon 375 – Qarpatalli 174, 175 – Of Sikkān/ Hadadsikāni 22, 167–172, 514 – Of the vineyards 174, 175 Hades 23, 24, 110, 188, 189, 196, 221, 636, 766 Hanʾilat 519 Hathor 314, 815 Hauron/Houron 808 Ḥdš 490, 506 He whose name is blessed forever 14, 698–700 Head of Days 690 Heba/Ḫebat 308, 673, 674 Hecate/Hekate 21, 24, 26, 191, 435–457, 556, 561, 562, 563, 773 – At Lagina 362, 435–457, 562, 563 – Soteira 437, 440 Hegemone 400, 428 Helios 16, 19, 21, 24, 65, 66, 110, 111, 114, 406, 407, 554, 648, 649, 663, 692, 707, 766, 775 (see also Sol; Zeus Helios; Zeus Helios Great Sarapis Saviour; Zeus Aniketos Helios God of Aumos) Hellos 417 Hera 65, 108, 187–191, 199, 212, 391, 415, 420, 430, 431, 439, 445, 446, 454, 465, 592, 593, 596, 709, 803 – Akraia 405 – Ammonia 807 – Antheia 215 – Boopis 192 – Epiphanestate 441 – Exakesterios 220, 221 – Panhellenia 421 – Teleia 198 Heracles/Herakles/Hercules 125, 126, 131, 187, 199, 205, 206, 210–215, 231, 232, 249, 279, 369, 401, 415, 598, 606, 709, 807–810, 812 – Alexeter kakon 210 – Alexikakos 211–215, 231, 764, 771 – Apalexikakos/Apallaxikakos 213 – Apotropaios 213

– Defensor 764

– Hoplophulax 21 – Patroios 74 – Protector 771 Ḥerem 519, 522 Ḥerembetʾel 522 Hermes 10–12, 19, 20, 105, 126, 187, 215, 279, 280, 385, 394, 415, 437, 456, 457, 662, 664, 773, 774, 776, 807 – Agoraios 218 – Chthonios 22, 24 – Enagonios 23 – Eriounios 481 – Meletenos 277 – Perpheraios 10–12, 27 – Propulaios 22 – Puletes and Charidotes 22, 28 – Trismegistos 436 Hermione 219 Hermuthis 343, 348 Hero(es) 162, 187, 207–209, 211, 213, 218, 226, 243, 293, 335, 415, 417, 430, 541, 545, 573, 593, 598, 600–602, 606, 607, 610, 612, 614, 629, 633 – Argive heroes 610, 612 – Iatros 226 (see also Iatros) – Local heroes 598, 601 Hestia 110, 192, 213, 400, 437, 456, 591, 592, 596 High one 691 (see also Elyon; Hupsistos/Hypsistos) Holy one(s) 83, 91, 92, 343, 671, 681, 691, 695, 697 Horus/ḥr 19, 99, 113, 213, 246, 326, 344, 345, 348, 351, 499, 506, 587, 636, 651, 656, 659, 727, 811 (see also Horus-Harpocrates) Hygieia 22, 210, 211, 214, 816, 817 – Alexiponos 211 Hupsistos/Hypsistos (see Epithets) Ianus 129, 130 Iao 110, 642, 648, 649, 653, 655–657, 663, 664, 724, 725, 737 Iaso 215 Iatros 207, 214, 224–231 (see also Apollo; Asclepios; Dionysos; Hero) Imhotep 326, 334, 341, 344, 351, 801, 804, 813–818 (see also Asclepios) Io 807 Ion (son of Apollo/Xouthos and Creusa) 249, 261, 602 Ion (son of Gargettos) 602 Išḫara 147, 146

Ishtar/Ištar 143, 144, 147–164, 304, 317, 482, 789, 832, 833 – Of Arbela 317 – Assyrian 147, 148, 149, 155, 156, 163, 164 – Of heaven 156 – Of the meadow 475 – Of Nineveh 147–149, 151, 152, 154, 155, 163, 479 – Of the promise 304 – Shaushka 304 (see also Shaushka) – Of Uruk 149, 150 Isis/'s 19, 24, 65, 114, 341, 342, 456, 506, 519, 555, 561, 576, 587, 613, 634, 636, 728, 738, 739, 774, 775, 802, 812, 817 – Isis-Hermuthis 343, 348 – Pharia 707 – Of Philae 707 – Thesmophoros 343 Iuno/Juno 126, 127, 130, 134 – Assyria Regina Dolichena 316 – Regina 130, 134 – Sancta 316 Iuppiter/Jupiter 127, 129–131, 134, 371, 484, 770, 774 – Capitolinus 476, 770 – Damascenus 178 – Dolichenus 401 – Heliopolitanus 179, 401 – Olympius 132 – Optimus Maximus 767 Iya 481 Iyarri 784, 785 Jesus (of Nazareth) 157, 536, 541, 572, 575, 579 Joseph 541, 815 Juno (see Iuno/Juno) Jupiter (see Iuppiter/Jupiter) Kabiros 293 (see also Cabiri) KAL-deity 782–788 (see also God(s)>Stag Gods) Karhuhas/Runtiyas/Stag-God/(DEUS)CERVUS(2) 311, 312, 319, 783, 791 (see also God(s)>Stag Gods; Runtiya) Kekrops 598 Khnum 341, 519, 522, 524 King (see also Epithets>Basileus/Basileia) – Of glory 93, 94 – Of goodness 93, 94 – Of holiness 93, 94

Kore 19, 24, 66, 74, 189, 190, 193, 195, 196, 198, 394, 399, 561 (see also Persephone) – Meilichos 604 – Soteira 21, 604 Kouretes 601, 602 Kronos 190, 406–408, 708 (see also Zeus Kronos) Krr 369, 493, 506, 507 (see also Kurra) Ks' 493, 507 Kšr 493, 500, 506 Kubaba 174, 246, 299–321 – Of Aram 312 – Of 100 temples 302, 309, 314 – Of the lawsuit 302, 309 – Of pwšd/r 304, 309 – Queen of Karkemish 301–304, 308, 316 Kubanda-/Kubanta- 300 Kufaws/Kuwaws 300 Kumarbi 477 Kummiya 477 Kurra 369, 370 Kybele (see Cybele/Kybele; see also Magna Mater) Kychreus 607 L'y 493, 507 Lady/bēltu(m)/ala – Of-Apu 156 – Of-Arbela 153 – Of Guadalupe 147, 157–164 – Of the land 306–308, 314 – Of-Nineveh 148, 153, 156 – Of-Talmuššu 153 Lamaštu 41–46, 50, 52, 54, 55 LAMMA-deity 783, 832 (see also KAL-deity) Lares 129, 130 Latona 125, 430 Leto 188, 189, 191–193, 261, 264, 265, 363, 422, 609, 630 (see also Delian triad) Lord (see also Adon/Adonay/Adonis/'adôn; God(s)) – Eternal 691, 695, 698 – Of Glory 631, 635 – Of the Ḫabūr 169–171 – Of Spirits 689–703, 750–754 Lycaon (father of Pandaros) 629, 630 Lykaon (son of Pelasgos) 598, 600 Machaon 227, 228 Malakbel 764, 775, 777 Maleatas 215 (see also Apollo)

Maliya 479, 481

Malkatšemayin 519 Mandulis 328, 333, 335, 353 Manes Gods 765–769, 776 Marduk 54, 152, 589, 681, 832, 856 (see also Bel/Bʿel/Bēl/Belos) Maron (saint) 535–537, 539, 543 Mars 127, 129, 130, 134 – Gradivus 129, 134 Matarkubileya/Matarkubeleya/Meter 299 (see also Meter/Mother) Mater Magna 773, 776 (see also Cybele/ Kybele; Meter/Mother) Mazu 38, 62–75 Meizhou 62, 74 Melampus 344 Meles (God-river) 565 Melikertes 697 Melqart/mlqrt 368, 371, 373, 378, 384, 490–500, 503, 505, 506, 508, 709, 809, 811, 831 Mercurius 125, 126 Meter/Mother 110, 279, 284–286, 288, 289, 300, 445, 846, (of the gods; see also Mater Magna; Mother) Milcom 716 Min 21, 502, 519 Mithra(s) 66, 99, 773, 775, 817 Mnemosyne 397 Moirai 24, 111, 114, 363, 396, 397, 409, 605, 664 Montu 811 Moon-God 47, 148, 475, 481–483 (see also Arma; Sin) Moses 17, 18, 84, 86, 87, 96, 541, 578, 585, 644, 649, 662, 679, 680, 692, 701, 728, 744, 750, 751 Mother 19, 63, 74, 159, 161–163, 189, 190, 193, 205, 210, 261, 279, 280, 288, 315, 326, 372, 416, 473, 484, 490, 505, 518, 524, 531, 563, 587, 593, 727, 788, 792, 832, 846, 849 (see also Meter/ Mother [of the gods]; Mater Magna; Rhea) – Dindymene 276, 849 – Kybele 278 (see also Cybele/Kybele) – Of all 773 – Of the gods 114, 115, 225, 563, 846 – Of Jesus 157 – Sipylene 563 Mskr 491–494, 506, 508 Mullissu 53, 147, 152, 155, 156, 164, 317 Muses 107, 111, 115, 293, 397, 594–597, 599, 600, 602, 603, 609, 611, 614 Mut 341, 351, 803, 804

Nabu 20, 46, 51–53, 152, 518–528, 542, 717 Nanay/Nanaya 52, 147, 148, 522, 524, 526 Natri 479 Nemesis/Nemeseis 437, 441, 561, 563, 774 Nemmaʿati 519 Neoptolemos 214 Neos Dionysos 294, 295 (see also Dionysos) Neptunus 126 Nereid(s) 19, 191, 596 Nergal 20, 171, 172, 519 Ninkarrak 49, 156 Nikaruwas 174 Ninurta 44, 45, 53, 792, 794 Nymphs 4, 19, 23, 108, 191, 192, 273, 286, 290, 397, 415, 602, 807 – Ionides 602 Odysseus 188, 198, 199, 208, 394, 593, 598, 610 Oresinios 226 Orestes 219 Osiris/'sr 19, 325, 326, 329, 335, 341, 348, 351, 501, 506, 519, 520, 586, 607, 636, 651, 652, 710, 727, 728, 807, 814 Osiris-Ḥapi/Osir-Apis 519, 814 Ouranos 592, 594 Paean/Paieon 104, 106, 107, 116, 224, 225, 229 Palikoi 596 Pallas (Hero) 600, 601 Pallas (see Athena) Pan 363, 11, 19, 21, 72, 112, 416, 421, 422, 589, 594 (see also Pasa) – Teletarches 421 Panacea 215 Pandaros 629, 630 Papaios 595, 635 (see also Zeus>Papaios) Parammon 807 Pasa 363, 413, 421, 422, 589 (see also Pan) Pasiphae 807 Patroclus 208 Pelasgos 598 Persephone 23, 24, 114, 188, 189, 191–193, 199, 221, 592 (see also Kore) Petesobek 342 Philoctetes 214 Phobos 657–659, 663, 664 Phoibos (see Apollo>Phoibos) Phritob 817 Pieros 596, 599, 600, 603

Piringir 308 Piyris 246, 325–353 Pkherstapane 817 Ploutos 188, 578 Pʽm 499, 502, 507 Pmy 495, 500, 506 Podaleirios 228 Pollux/Polydeukes 601, 714 (see also Dioscuri/ Dioskouroi) Poremanres 343, 344 Poseidon 13, 60, 126, 187, 199, 215, 286, 398, 406, 413, 415, 422, 439, 442, 557, 561, 595, 604, 709, 807 (see also Zeus Poseidon) – Apotropos 604 – Arges 604 – Asphaleios 68, 604 – Basileus 439 – Einalios 604 – Hippios 604 – Phutalmios 61 – Seisichthon 604 – Sosineos 67 – Soter 60 – Temenouchos 604 Pramares 342–344, 348, 352 Proetos 212 Pshaï 658 Ptah/Ptaḥ 19, 341, 519, 814, 816 Python 106, 658 Qos 670, 717, 720, 723, 724, 726, 727 Queen 19, 148, 155, 654, 188, 301–308, 316, 321, 483, 490, 504 (see also Epithets>Basileus/ Basileia) – Of the City 774 – Great 307 – Of Heaven 518, 519, 522, 526, 717 (see also Epithets>Ouranios/Ourania) – Of Karkemish 301, 302, 308, 316 – Of the land 306, 307, 314 – Of the Underworld 190 Quirinus 129, 130 Ra (rʽ)/Re 114, 325–327, 342, 507, 587, 727, 728 (see also Ammon/Amun-Ra/Re/'mn) Rakkab-ʾel 173 Rammānu 178 Rammon/Rimmon 178 Renpetneferet 341

Rešep/Reshef/Reseph/ršp 173, 377, 378, 380, 381, 493, 507, 508, 525, 810–812 Rex deorum 401 (see also Jupiter>Heliopolitanus) Rhea 110, 190, 191, 773 Rome 447, 556, 557, 558, 563, 770 – Euergetis 556, 557, 563 Ruler of Spirits and all the Authorities 693, 750 Runtiya 484, 784 (see also Gods>Protective God) Š'n 507 Sabaōth/Sebaoth/Zebaoth 110, 587, 642, 648, 649, 663, 674, 675, 738, 739, 741, 748 (see also Yah/ Yahu/Yahweh/YHWH>Of hosts) Šala 171 Salus 131 Šamaš/Shamash/Šmš 20, 47, 53, 152, 173, 174, 308, 493, 496, 507, 508, 519, 523, 525, 532, 545, 692, 832, 833, 837 – Of the Sky 308 Santa 475 Sarapis/Serapis 66, 110, 226, 325, 406, 437, 449, 456, 554, 555, 561, 607, 613, 634, 651, 652, 738, 814, 817 (see also Epithets>Philosarapis/ Philoserapis; Osiris-Ḥapi/Osir-Apis; Zeus Helios Great Sarapis Saviour) Sarruma 473, 482 Sati 519 Satrap 817 Shausha/Shaushka/Šaušga 147, 148, 150, 151, 153 (see also Heba/Ḫebat; Ishtar) – Great 482 – Hebat 308 – Mistress-of-all-Lands 151 – Of-Nineveh 150, 151, 153 – Of the Promise 304 (see Ishtar>Of the Promise) Saviour (see Epithets>Soter/Soteira) Ṣd 493, 495, 500, 503, 506 Šd' 493, 506 Selene 24, 111, 115 Sergios (saint) 538 Šgr 493, 506 Shadday 587, 679, 680, 683, 439, 740 (see also El) Shadrapha/šdrp' 13, 508, 817 Šḥr 503, 507 Sin/Sîn 44, 45, 47, 54, 148, 149, 519, 837 (see also Moon-God) Skn 493, 494, 505, 509 Šlm 490, 497, 503, 506, 508 Šm 506, 720

Šmr' 496, 507 Sobek 342, 344 Soknebtynis 339 Sokonopis 343 Sol 16, 476, 764, 775 (see also Helios) – Invictus 16, 476, 775 Sosipolis 599, 600, 602, 613 Ṣpn 368, 373, 493, 494, 498, 502–504, 506 (see also Baal Saphon/bʽl ṣpn) Ssm 493, 506 ʽšt 507 Storm-God 144, 167, 168, 170–173, 175, 177, 179, 180, 241, 305, 365, 369, 404, 467, 473–483, 514, 588, 670, 783, 784, 788, 789, 791–794, 837 (see also Tarhunza/Tarḫunzas; Teshub) ʽštr 496, 506 Šuwala 171, 172 Sy 507 Tammuz 316 Tanit/Tinit/Tnt 5, 13, 370, 371, 493, 495, 497, 502, 506, 508, 568, 709, 749 Tarhunza/Tarḫunzas 172, 175, 304, 305, 369, 481 (see also Storm-God) – Of the Vineyard 481 Telephos 788 Telesphoros 210, 211, 214, 218 – Alexiponos 211 Telipinu 483, 781–795 Tellur 129 Temenos 598 Teshub 308, 477 (see also Storm-God) Thallo 400 Thea/Theai 288, 399, 439, 440–442, 447, 557, 612 – Rhome 447 (see also Rome) – Semnai 399, 612 Theos/Theoi 413, 415, 419, 422, 423, 430, 431, 610 – Agnostoi 113 (see also Gods>Unknown) – Epiphanestatoi 456 – Katachthonioi 766–768 – Katharoi (see Gods>Pure) – Megaloi 363 (see also Epithets>Great) – Megistoi 435–457 (see also Epithets>Great) – Semnai (see Theai>Semnai) – Soteres 404 (see also Epithets>Soter) – Sunnaoi/Synnaoi 170, 200 Theandrios 179, 180 Themis 397, 415, 596 Theseus 598, 606

Thetis 191, 192, 593, 604 Thosytmis 816 Thot(h) 661, 816 Tiberinus Pater 130 Tiwad 483, 484 Tonantzin 147, 149, 157–163 – Cihuacoatl 159 Touberis 484 Trophonios 606, 793 (see also Zeus Trophonios) Tutu 338 Tyche 180, 437, 563 – Agathe 563 Ulysses (see Odysseus) Venus 127, 129, 147, 708, 834 – Erycina 129 Vesta 126, 127 Virgin of Guadalupe 149, 157 Volcanus 127, 128 Wepwawet 635 Y'l 507 Yah/Yahu/Yahweh/YHWH 17, 18, 36, 79–96, 149, 244, 513, 519, 585–588, 649, 667–685, 691, 692, 694, 696, 702, 717, 718, 721, 728, 735–754, 848 – of Hosts 694 (see also Sabaōth/Sebaoth/ Zebaoth) Zalmoxis 230 Zarpānītu 147, 148 Zeus 4, 13, 14, 16, 19–24, 26, 27, 61, 65, 66, 68, 72, 74, 75, 103–106, 108, 110, 111, 112, 116, 141, 142, 178, 179, 186–190, 196, 205, 206, 210, 213–216, 218, 220–222, 224, 226, 227, 231, 232, 241, 245, 249, 251, 252, 254, 271, 275, 278–280, 286–289, 343, 362, 363, 374, 376, 391–409, 413–422, 430, 431, 435–457, 465, 466, 476, 484, 551, 552, 554, 555, 559–564, 569–571, 577–580, 591–593, 595, 596, 600, 602, 605–607, 609, 613, 614, 623, 627, 628, 696, 707–709, 723, 724, 726–728, 740, 769, 770, 772, 782, 789, 791, 792, 801, 804–808, 847, 849 – Agoraios 218 – Aigiochos 245, 789, 791 – Akraios 405, 407 – Alastoros/Elasteros 221, 392, 393

– Alexetor 210, 220 – Alexikakos 214 – Ammon 801, 804–808 (see also Ammon) – Aniketos Helios God of Aumos 16, 407 – Apallaxikakos 213 – Apemios 214 – Aphrodisios 397 – Ardureos 437 – Ares 406 – Arotesios 407 – Asbystes 807 – Astrapaios 393 – Ataburios 391 – Athenaios 221 – Auanter 393 – Baitokaike 403 – Bakchos 406 – Basileus 65, 141, 396, 401 (see also Zeus Kronides Basileus) – Belos 16, 708, 807 – Bodonaios 628 – Bouleus 418 – Bronton 142, 772 – Chalazios 275 – Chrysaoreios/Chrysaoreus 439, 441, 443–445, 562 – Chthonios 188 – Damascenos/Damascenus 178, 179 – Damatrios 397 – Despotes 401 – Disabeites 214 – Dodonaios/Dodoneus 104, 420, 421, 628 – Eleutherios 551, 552, 555 – Epakrios 393 – Epekoos 14 – Epiphanes 440 – Epiphanestatos 441 – Epiteleios 393 – Epopetes 408 – Epopsios 393 – Eucharistos 142 – Eumenes 607 – Exakester/Exakesterios 220–222 – Geleon 393 – Georgos 393 – Heis 110 – Heliopolitanos 179 (see also Iuppiter/ Jupiter>Heliopolitanus)

– Helios 406

– Helios Great Sarapis Saviour 66, 406, 554, 707 (see also Helios; Sarapis) – Hellenios 221 – Heraios 393 – Herkeios 392, 419 – Hikesios 393 – Huetios 393 – Humettios 393 – Hupatos/Hypatos 221, 232, 362, 394, 395, 769 – Hupsistos/Hypsistos 14, 395, 437 – Kapetolios 437, 770 – Karios 441, 442, 445, 446, 449–451, 562, 563 – Karpodotes 142 – Kasios 405, 407 – Katachthonios – Katharsios 220 – Kataibates 409 – Katachthonios 188 – Katharsios 220, 393 – Keraun(i)os 61, 178 – Keraunobolos 418 – Konios 195 – Koruphaios 405, 407 – Kouros 103 – Kronos 406 – Ktesios 61 – Kurios/Kyrios 179, 401, 408 – Labranios 374 – Larasios 441 – Lukaios/Lykaios 391, 600 – Maimaktes 393 – Marna 723 – Megas 397, 441, 447 – Megistos 401, 435, 440, 441, 446–449, 453, 454, 457 – Meilichios 141, 213, 220


– Morios 393 – Naios 413–415, 418, 419, 421 – Nephalios 393 – Nosios 215, 216 – Notios 215 – Olumpios/Olympios 287, 362, 399–401, 404–407, 559, 560 – Ombrios 214 – Orompatas 376 – Osogoa/gos 440, 441 – Ouranios 740 – Ourios 221, 696 – Panamaros/Panemeros 435–457, 562, 749 – Panhellenic 363, 398, 440, 806 – Pankrates 396 – Papaios 595 – Parnes(s)ios 393 – Pater 74, 484 – Patrios/Patro(i)os 68, 563, 769 – Philios 393 – Philopatris 555 – Phratrios 476 – Polieus 398–400 – Pompaios 221 – Poseidon 406 – Sarapis 226 – Semaleos 393 – Semios 393 – Sosipolis 613 – Soter 141, 214, 216, 227, 399, 400, 440, 560, 561, 563, 564 – Tarigyenos 280 – Teleios 393 – Tmarios 418 – Tropaios 206 – Trophonios 606

– Xenios 393

# People

Abdashtart/Straton II 809 Aelianus 630 Aelius Aristides 110, 212, 231, 565, 577, 608, 614, 623, 817 Aeschylus 111, 214, 217, 232, 395, 420, 575, 595, 596, 614, 623, 624, 630, 631 Ahab 175 Ahaziahu 175 Aḥiqar 524 Alexander of Abonoteichos 613 Alexander of Ephesus 380 Alexander the Great 806, 809, 810 Amenemhet III 342, 348 Amenhotep 326, 327, 331, 334, 341, 344, 349, 815 Ammaios 578 Ammonites/Ammoneitai 716, 719, 805 Ananias 178, 723 Antiochus (see Seleucids) Antipater of Tarsus 632 Aramaeans 167–169, 180 Arcadians 315, 598, 599 Aristarchus 628–630 Aristobulus 721, 728 Aristotle 115, 213, 572, 844, 845 Arrian 421, 812 Artapanus 721 Artaxerxes 396 Ashurbanipal 317, 521 Assur-nērārī V 154 Astirus II 320 Athenians 61, 72, 99, 206, 212, 215, 218, 261, 264, 265, 362, 393, 395, 398, 399, 409, 598–600, 605, 606, 610, 611, 804 Attalids 294, 606 Augustus (Caesar Augustus, Imperator) 123, 334, 403, 439, 446, 450, 551, 552, 558, 559, 563, 564, 814 Aumos 15, 16, 18, 407 Azamis 302 Azibaal 372 Baalrom 381 Bar-Hadad I 176, 177 Batnoam 372 Bernardino de Sahagún 161 Boeotians 599, 602

Calamis 229, 805 Calpurnius Piso Frugi, Cn. 126 Carians 437, 443, 452 Cassandra 575, 631 Chaeremon 634, 817 Chinese emperor 68, 70, 71 Chinese officials 69 Chryses 110, 224 Cimon 804 Cinias 628 Claudius Diognetus 571, 578, 579 Claudius Lysias 574 Cleanthes 27, 103, 627, 632, 636 Clearchus of Soli 569 Clement of Alexandria 112, 575, 694 Coans 603 Cornutus, Annaeus 627 Cortés 149, 157, 158, 161, 162 Costobar 722 Cratylus 38, 111, 571, 587, 589, 591, 592, 615, 622, 625–627 (see also Plato) Datis 810 David 89, 175, 541, 675 Deliades 808 Demetrius (the Chronographer) 721 Democritus 27, 571

Demosthenes 232, 255, 261 Diodorus Siculus 465, 636 Diognetos/Diognetus 466, 569–573, 577–580 Dorion 719, 723, 726, 727 Dositheos 721

Egyptians 99, 113, 114, 344, 517, 592, 595, 596, 621, 634, 636, 648, 713, 719, 720, 722, 726, 728, 729, 804, 807, 818 Eleans 218, 599, 613, 805 Epaphos 232, 807 Epaphroditos/Epaphroditus 571, 574 Epimenides 612 Esarhaddon 53, 152, 368, 716 Eumenes II 603 Euphranor 245, 257, 259 Euripides 111, 192, 219, 249, 261, 394, 612, 810 Eusebius of Caesarea 577 Evagoras 377, 380 Ezekiel the Tragedian 721

Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111326511-046

Favorinus of Arelate 806

Felix, M. Antonius 574 Festus, Porcius 574 Francisco de Bustamante 160 Gallienus 402 Gylax 427 Hadad-ʿezer I 176 Hadad-ʿezer II 176 Hadda-yithʿī 169–172 Hadrian 294, 398, 400, 404, 420, 421, 451, 456, 558–560, 564, 565 Ḫammurapi 150, 151 Hatshepsut 327, 334, 815, 816 Hazael 175, 176, 178 Heliodorus (minister of Seleucus IV) 693, 750 Heqaib 327 Heraclitus 632 Herakleistai 809 Hermippos of Beirut 722 Herodes Atticus 209 Herodotus 12, 27, 60, 61, 72, 196, 217, 344, 415–418, 420, 592, 595–597, 613, 615, 634, 635, 717, 728, 804, 806, 810, 843, 846 Hesiod 12, 27, 188, 189, 214, 223, 224, 396, 397, 415, 448, 592–594, 596, 597, 609, 614, 616, 623, 624, 794, 845, 846 Hieronautai 808–813, 818 Himilco 810 Hiram II 375 Homer 12, 27, 116, 122, 189, 190, 198, 214, 229, 316, 391, 401, 417–420, 424, 426, 571, 588, 592, 594, 596, 597, 614, 616, 624, 629, 630, 632, 787 Hyperboreans 808 Iamblichus 635 Ignatius of Antioch 466, 576 Ini-Teshub 308 Io (Priest) 232 Iasians 603 Idumeans 719, 720, 722–724, 726, 727 Isi 327 Isidoros 114, 343, 344, 348, 543 Isyllos 205, 229

Jehoram 175 Jesus of Nazareth 536 Jews 239, 517, 518, 531, 535, 539, 541, 543, 544, 573, 578, 580, 690, 692, 714, 718, 725, 729, 736, 744, 753 John the Baptist 179 Joseph (Old Testament) 571, 573 Josephus, Flavius 177, 178, 239, 574 Juan Diego 157, 159, 160, 162, 163 Juan de Zumárraga (Archbishop) 157 Julian (Emperor) 110, 112, 227, 241, 242, 249, 538, 544 Kamanis 301, 302, 319, 320 Kassianos 421 Katuwas 301, 310 Kulamuwa 172 Kutamuwa/KTMW 312 Lacedaemonians 99, 599 Libyans 595, 806 Livy/Livius, Titus 38, 121–131, 133–135, 843, 846 Lucian 575, 613 Luke (Evangelist) 450, 466, 569–574, 578–580, 611 Lysander 804 Macrobius 110, 632, 635–637 Manetho 814, 815, 817 Maništūšu 150 Marcus Aurelius (Emperor) 565, 578 Martín de León 162 Mati'-ilu 154 Menkaure 814 Mesha 716 Miguel Sánchez 158, 161 Milkyaton 376, 377, 380, 381 Montúfor (Archbishop) 160 Mullissu–katbat 317 Nabonidus 52, 54, 716 Nabuchodonosor/Nebuchadnezzar 49, 716 Nabû-zuqup-kēnu 46 Naqia 316 Nazi-maruttaš 50 Nectanebo 720, 814 Neoplatonists 615 Nezahualcoytl 159, 160 Nicholas of Damascus 178 Nonnos (of Panopolis) 209, 369, 606, 807

Ouliades 222, 223

Paltibaal 372 Pamphos 599 Panamuwa I 172 Panamuwa II 175 Panamuwatis 302 Parmenides 223 Pashermontou-Panakht 342 Paul of Tarsus 538, 541, 543, 544, 573, 577, 611 Paul of Tyre 722 Pausanias 11, 186, 193, 195, 196, 212, 214, 218, 226, 229, 257, 315, 395, 420, 439, 452, 588, 591, 595–606, 609, 610, 612, 613, 615, 805–807 Pelasgians 592, 595, 596, 843, 846 Persians 54, 99, 206, 517, 545, 717 Peteisis 327, 333–335, 341 Pheidias 262 Philo of Alexandria 634 Philo of Byblos 376, 407, 709, 722 Philokles of Sidon 808 Philoxenus 628 Pihor 246, 327, 333–335, 341, 345 Pindar 192, 194, 196, 198–200, 208, 260, 419, 428, 787, 805, 806, 808 Pisistratus, Pisistratids 398, 400 Piyris 246, 325, 328, 329, 332–336, 339–342, 344, 345, 348, 349, 351–353 Plato 12, 38, 67, 68, 111, 217, 261, 571, 573, 587, 589, 591–593, 595, 609, 622, 625–627, 629, 812, 846 Plotinus 414 Plutarch 198, 211, 392, 571, 577, 603, 627, 631, 634, 635, 709, 710, 728, 804 Pompey the Great 551 Porphyry 414, 635 Poseidoniastai 557, 809 Potamon son of Lesbonax 551, 552 Praxiergidai 396, 397, 605 Proclus 38, 111, 571, 627, 817 Psammetichus 521, 719, 816 Ptolemies 325, 342, 634, 718, 719, 726, 818 – Ptolemy I Soter 554, 719, 805 – Ptolemy III Euergetes 721, 816 – Ptolemy IV Philopator 19, 721 Pyrrhos 415 Pythagoras 571, 611 Pythia 224, 288, 420, 598, 605 Pumayyaton 381

#### Qarli 173

Sabina 420, 421 – Sebaste Artemis Kelkaia 420, 421 Šalmaneser III 153 Šamšī-Adad I 150 Sánchez (see Miguel Sánchez) Sargon II 52, 53, 151, 378, 716 Sarwatiwaras 304 Scythians 595, 635 Seleucids 362, 405 – Antiochus (unspecified) 132, 402–404 – Antiochus IV Epiphanes 404 – Antiochus XII 179 – Seleucus I Nicator 405 – Seleucus IV Philopator 405, 750 Semos 630 Sennacherib 51, 52, 156 Seuthes 396 Shasu 670 – Shasu-Hapiru 670 Socrates 6, 70, 209, 261, 571, 587, 591, 592, 602, 615, 625–627 Solomon 673, 716, 743 Solon 199–201, 435 Stephen of Byzantium 380 Strabo 223, 304, 417–419, 437, 439, 443, 445, 446, 793, 805 Straton II (see Abdashtart) Suhis II 310 Šulgi 150, 151 Suppiluliumas 302, 303 Ṭab-Rammān 176 Tacitus 435, 439, 450, 708, 709, 714, 715, 728, 818 Taita 306 Tarhupiyas 320 Themistokles 603, 606 Theophanes (son of Hieroitas) 552, 555, 560 Theophilos/Theophilus (addressee of Luke) 569, 570 Theophilos of Antioch 573 Theophoros 466, 569, 570, 576 Thessalos of Tralles 816 Thracians 114, 600 Tiglath-Pileser III 51 Tušratta 151

864 People

Valerian (Emperor) 402 Vidranga 524

Zakkur 716 Zenodotos 628 Zenon 719

Wasusarmas/Wassurme 304, 792

Xenophanes 614 Xenophon 141, 196, 209, 396, 569, 573, 622

# Places

Abilene 407, 408 Abydos 520 Acropolis (Athens) 22, 72, 195, 200, 262, 263, 395, 397, 398 Afşin 301, 311 Aglaureion (Athens) 400 Agora (Athenian) 218, 226, 229, 245, 249, 255, 257, 262–264, 266, 847 Akragas/Agrigento 220–222 Aleppo 144, 177, 467, 475, 479, 784 Alexandria 26, 554, 578, 707, 719, 736, 774, 817 Al-Mushannaf 722 Al-Nabi Saleh (Mount) 402, 698 Amanus 368, 375 Amathus 374, 376, 377 Ambrakia 427, 428 Ammon 716, 729 Amphissa 601 Amrit 813, 817 Amuq 306 Anatolia 143, 144, 167, 168, 180, 300, 309, 365, 369, 370, 374, 436, 441, 442, 445, 448, 449, 454, 471, 472, 668, 782, 784, 786, 788, 792, 803, 830 Antarados 368, 370, 373, 383 Antioch/Antiochia 132, 401, 404, 405, 466, 531, 569, 570, 573, 574, 576 Anz 404 Apamea 16, 403, 544, 698 Aphrodisias 436, 442, 450, 560 Aphytis 805, 806 Apollonia 228, 363, 415, 417, 423, 424, 426–430, 811 Arados 402, 810, 813 Aram 168, 175, 312 Arbela 149, 153, 154, 156, 157, 163, 164 (see also Egašan-kalam-ma temple) Arcadia 315, 391, 399 Argos 105, 198, 630, 631, 810 Arslan-Tash 175 Arzawa 784, 785 Assos 558 Assur 20, 149, 154, 156, 157, 163, 164, 835 Assyria 35, 143, 144, 152, 168, 317, 831, 835, 837 Atheila 404 Athens, Attica 4, 25, 26, 72, 132, 186, 189, 194–196, 198, 199, 201, 206, 212, 215, 218, 224, 245, 251, 255, 261, 262, 264–266, 273, 285, 288, 290,

293–295, 344, 362, 391–400, 408, 409, 421, 423, 426, 430, 442, 465, 509, 553, 555, 559, 588, 605, 609, 611–613, 630, 631, 791, 805, 807, 809, 847 (see also Acropolis; Aglaureion; Agora; Eleusis; Erchia; Erechtheion; Ilissos; Kephale; Marathon/Marathonian Tetrapolis; Parnes (Mount); Phaleron; Piraeus; Pnyx; Rhamnous; Theatre of Dionysos Eleuthereus) Atrax 605 Ayn el-Labakha 325, 333, 334, 336, 344 Azran 171 Baalbek 179 Babylonia 35, 50, 168, 518, 837 Bahadırlı 304 Baitokaike 402, 403, 407, 408 Balagrai 226 Bamboula 376 (see also Kition) Bashan 178 Batsalos 378 (see also Kition) Bavian 51 Belos 380, 708, 807 Berytos/Berytus 401, 557 Bireçik 312 Black Sea 207, 228, 229, 788, 790, 795 Borysthenes 228 Bosra 178 Bostan-esh-Sheikh 810, 811 (see also Sidon) Butrint/Bouthrotos 421, 589, 847 Byblos 368, 370–373, 383, 499, 739, 808 Canaan 671, 672, 675 Carthage/Qartḥadasht 5, 13, 125, 133, 220, 370, 374, 376, 468, 489, 491, 501, 502, 505, 507–509, 709, 749, 812, 813 Chalcis 399 Charadra 601 China 37, 38, 59–64, 68–70, 72, 75, 539 Choziba 533, 540, 541, 543 Cilicia 304, 471, 788 Cinekoy 369 Cisjordan 716 Commagene (see Kummuh) Coptos 816 Corcyra 427, 428 Corinth 10, 427, 428, 808

Cos 223

Crete 188, 786–788, 795 Cyprus 4, 361, 365, 366, 373–376, 378–380, 385, 553, 588, 768, 803, 804, 806, 811, 813 Cyrene 226, 228, 397, 558, 804, 806, 807 Cyrrhus 401, 409, 544 Cyzicus 273, 286, 288, 805, 806 Damascus 167, 168, 170, 175–180 Dan 175, 176, 672, 697 Daphne 283, 284 Daskyleion 273, 288 Deir el-Bahari 327, 353, 816, 817 Deir Kanoun 178 Delos 104, 132, 221, 222, 294, 454, 556, 557, 689, 690, 692, 695, 696, 699, 701, 702, 739, 751, 752, 792, 793, 801, 804, 805, 808–810, 812, 813 (see also Rheneia) Delphi 10, 11, 107, 142, 212, 225, 229, 243, 245, 249, 252, 259–261, 265, 287, 396, 417, 420, 423, 427, 451, 603–605, 608, 609, 628, 630, 749, 786, 793, 795, 805, 810, 813 Dendera 815 Dendur 327, 333–335 Didyma 21, 68, 604, 605, 788, 795 Dodecanesos 810 Dodona 68, 106, 363, 415–422, 430, 596, 628, 806, 847 Dur-Katlimmu 523 Dūr-Šarrukīn 52 Ebla 369 Edfu 327, 344 Edom 716, 729 Egašan-kalam-ma temple (Arbela) 153 Egypt 17, 19–21, 24–26, 35, 142, 151, 196, 246, 316, 325, 327, 328, 335, 342, 343, 352, 365, 511, 512, 517–521, 523, 524, 527, 531, 537, 538, 553–555, 576, 586, 595, 596, 609, 613, 634–636, 641, 668, 672, 673, 713, 717–720, 722–729, 736, 739, 801, 804, 806, 813, 815, 817, 818 Elea/Velia 221–223, 395 Elephantine 83, 327, 335, 468, 511, 513, 517–523, 525–527, 717, 718 Eleusis 130, 189, 190, 193–195, 209, 226, 605 Elis 218, 219, 399, 600, 602, 807 (see also Olympia) Emašmaš-temple (Niniveh) 150 Emenue-temple (Niniveh) 150 Emesa 16, 404, 534

Ephesos/Ephesus 131, 213, 194, 435, 436, 442, 554, 574, 575, 784, 803, 810 Epidamnos 428 Epidauros/Epidaurus 20, 111, 205, 210, 213, 217, 218, 225, 226, 228, 229, 231, 454, 749, 802 Erchia (Attica) 397, 408 Erechtheion (Athens) 395 Eretria 128, 175, 176, 264, 265 Eulla 49 Euphrates 169, 308, 542 Fay(y)um 340–344, 352, 720 Forum Romanum (Rome) 771 Galilaia 717 Garizim (Mount) 675, 684 Gaza 723 Gela 195, 197, 220, 810 Gerasa/Antioch on the Crysorrhoas/ Jerash 404–406, 409 Gerçin 172, 174 Gūzāna 22, 144, 168, 169, 171 Gythion 805, 806 Ḫabūr 169–171 Haloua 697 Hamath 716 Hammon 368, 373, 385 Harran/Ḫarrān 15, 149, 371, 523 Ḥasanlū 314 Hatra 20, 531, 532, 534, 545 Hatti 300, 307, 472, 784, 835 Hattusa 472, 782, 783, 785 Hauran/Hawran 15, 178–180, 404, 407, 722 Heit 178 Heliopolis (Egypt) 814 Hermon 534, 697, 698, 702 Hermonthis 814 Hermopolis 521, 720, 726 Hibis 329, 333 Hierapolis/Manbog 401, 532, 538, 545 Hisma 404 Histria 228 Hor (Mount) 378 Hubur (River) 43 Humayma/Hawara 343, 404 Hyllarima 220, 450

Iamneia 808 Iasos 441 Idalion 376–378, 380, 381 Idumea 717 Ilissos 396 Israel 17, 18, 83, 88, 175, 367, 489, 515, 516, 585, 586, 667–669, 671, 672, 679–683, 685, 715, 716, 729, 735, 740, 744 Istros 228 Jerash (see Gerasa) Jerusalem 88, 586, 662, 668, 671–676, 681, 683, 693, 716, 735–738, 741, 743, 746, 750 Judah 586, 668, 674, 676, 716 Kabirion (Thebes) 293 Kahramanmaraş 301 Kalabcha 328, 333–335, 342 Kaphyai 598 Karatepe 304, 784 Karkemish 299, 301, 302, 304–312, 314, 316–319, 321 Karnak 327, 814, 816 Kastabalay/Castabala 304, 305 Kastro (see Phassoula) Kathari 378 (see also Kition) Kellis 338 Kephale (Attica) 601 Kerak 723 Ketef Hinnom 746 Kharga (Oasis) 325, 328, 329, 333, 338, 352 Khastemeḥi 519 Kiršu 304 Kition/Larnaca 375–381, 385, 494, 813 (see also Bamboula; Batsalos; Kathari) Koptos 554, 555 Koruphe (Syria) 405 Krbyl 304 Kršy 304 Kültepe 305 Kummuh 302, 303, 307, 308, 321 Kyme (Aeolis) 212 Labraunda 441

Lacedaemon (see Sparta) Lagina 435, 436, 439–441, 443, 445, 447, 448, 451, 454–456, 556, 562 Larnaca (see Kition) Lebadeia 65, 605, 606

Lebena 226, 228, 818 Lesbos 10, 108, 551, 555, 805 Levant 361, 367, 379, 519, 520, 527, 589, 697, 599, 702, 715, 749 Libya 465, 804, 806 Limassol 374, 375, 385 Lindos (Rhodes) 20, 608, 749 Lousoi 212 Luash 716 Lukka lands 479 Luxor 636 Lycia 483, 484, 560, 565, 588, 629, 630, 808 Lycopolis 635, 636 Lycosura/Lykosoura 315, 587, 601 Lydia 305, 607 Maad 698 Macedonia 227, 588, 768 Magna Graecia 220–222 Magnesia ad Meandrum 555 Malatya 311, 318, 480, 483, 784 Malta 368, 371 Mamre 671, 803 Mantinea 399 Maraş 177, 309, 320, 321, 482 Marathon/Marathonian Tetrapolis 72, 195, 226, 287, 395, 428 Mari 374 Megalopolis 805 Meharde 306, 314 Memphis 19, 114, 717, 719, 722, 723, 726, 804, 814–818 Mesopotamia 35, 37, 41, 42, 45, 46, 49, 54, 55, 148, 149, 155, 168, 169, 519, 520, 523, 524, 534–536, 668, 680, 717, 833, 835 Mexico City 149, 157, 158, 162, 163 Meydancikkale 304 Miletos/Miletus 215, 216, 222, 229, 558, 559, 781, 782, 786–788, 795 Miletoupolis 212 Misenum 578 Moab 534, 543, 544, 680, 716, 729 Motya 489, 507, 508 Mouti Shinoas 374 Mylasa 440, 441, 452 Mytilene 551, 552, 558–560 Naples 221

Narmuthis 340, 343, 344, 348, 353

Netherworld 36, 43, 148, 171, 172, 306 Nikopolis 420, 421 Nimrud 175, 831 Nineveh 52, 143, 147–157, 163, 164, 369, 479, 523 (see also Emašmaš-temple; Emenue-temple) Nippur 149, 833 Olbia 228–230, 787 Olumpieus (deme, Syria) 405 Olympia 195, 196, 220, 287, 399, 427, 588, 599, 601, 609, 612 (see also Elis) Ördek Burnu/Ördekburnu 172, 312 Orontes 176 Örtülü 312 Oxyrhynchus 724 Palestine 533, 534, 537, 540, 541, 670–672, 675, 715–717, 736 Pallantion 600 Palmyra 14, 521, 531, 532, 534, 537, 543, 689, 698–702, 764, 775 Panamara 435–437, 439, 440, 442, 443, 445–448, 451, 452, 455, 456, 562 Pancarlı Höyük 172 Panticapaea 228 Parnes (Mount) 215, 393 Paros 194–196, 397 Patara 479, 565, 630 Patavium 123 Patras 221 Pattina (see Unqi/Pattina) Pergamon 198, 436, 603, 604 Petra 404 Phalasarna 214 Phaleron 601, 609–612 Phassoula 374 Philai 815 Phlious 399 Phoenicia 180, 365–369, 373, 376, 383, 717, 719, 803, 808, 810 Piraeus 213, 215, 225, 395, 509, 812 Pirindu 304 Pirwaššuwa 305 Pnyx (Athens) 395 Propontid 274, 283, 290 Prusa 273, 575 Puteoli 178, 588 Pwšd/r 304, 309

Qalaat Semaan 531 Qasr Antar 697 Qasr el-Agouz 816 Qasr Zayyan 338 Qumran 79–85, 88, 90, 91, 96, 690, 693, 694, 699, 701, 702, 725 Qurnet Murai 815 Rash 526, 717 Ravenna 578, 768 Rhamnous 226, 399 Rheneia 689, 692, 699–701, 751 (see also Delos) Rhodes 209, 222, 391, 399, 400, 447, 576, 770 (see also Lindos) Roma/Rome 66, 123–125, 127, 128, 131, 178, 197, 221, 228, 229, 375, 439, 447–451, 454, 552, 556–558, 563, 571, 574, 634, 759, 760, 762, 763, 765, 767, 768, 770, 772, 774–776, 843 (see also Forum Romanum) Salamis 377, 428 Samʾal/Zincirli 167, 168, 172–174, 177, 178, 312 Samaria 404, 675, 716, 717 Samos 175, 176, 397, 803, 804 Saqqara 521, 717, 814 Saraceno (Mount) 220–222 Sardis 305 Sarepta 811, 813 Sehel (Island) 815 Seleucia (Pieria) 26, 401, 404–406 Sheikh Fadl (Cave) 521 Sichem 401 Sicily 212, 430, 769, 817 Sidon 362, 368–370, 373, 384, 716, 808–811, 813 (see also Bostan-esh-Sheikh) Sidyma 609 Sikāni/Tall Faḫarīya 167–171 Sinope 228 Siwa 801, 803–807 Skythopolis 404–406, 409 Smyrna 441, 553, 562–565, 574 Soli 377, 569 Sparta 260, 598, 599, 805, 806 Stratonikeia 362, 435, 440, 442, 456, 553, 556, 562, 563, 749 (see also Lagina; Panamara) Syene 518, 521, 522, 717 Syracuse 294, 427, 428 Syria 15, 25, 35, 143, 144, 154, 167–169, 180, 300, 314, 362, 369, 391, 392, 404, 514, 518, 519, 523,

531–539, 541, 544, 546, 553, 715–717, 719, 722, 835 Syro-Anatolian states 299 Tabal 304, 308, 784 Tall Šeḫ Ḥamad 369 Tartous (see Arados) Tavşantepe 314 Tebtynis 339 Tel Dan/Tall al-Qāḍi (see Dan) Tell Fekherye (see Sikāni/Tall Faḫarīya) Tepeyac (Hill) 149, 157–163 Thasos 22, 195, 220, 397 Theadelphia 343 Theatre of Dionysos Eleuthereus (Athens) 397, 400 Thebes (Egypt) 326, 327, 636, 803, 806, 811, 814–817 Thebes (Boeotia; see also Kabirion) 196, 805 Thespiae 599 Thessaly 60, 215, 229, 261, 401, 628 Thrace 10, 806, 813 Thronion 427 Tigris 169 Tili/Çattepe 404 Titane 226, 818

Toul Keram 401

Tralleis/Tralles 441, 574, 604, 605, 607 Transjordan 716, 723 Trikka 229 Troad 558, 603, 630, 795, 805 Troizen 598 Troy 10, 188, 593, 610, 629, 785 Tyre 368, 370, 371, 373, 375, 384, 534, 717, 722, 808–810, 812, 813, 818 Ugarit 35, 36, 151, 308, 366, 367, 382, 670, 803 Unqi/Pattina 176 Uruk 46, 148, 149, 151, 317, 833–835 Veii 132 Velia (see Elea/Velia) Walistin/Palistin 306 Washaniya 305 Xanthos (River) 630 Yādiya 168, 172–175 Yaudi 312 Zincirli 167, 312 Zoora/Ghor es-Safi 533, 534, 539–541, 543, 544

### Topics

Abundance/Prosperity 20–22, 53, 99, 169, 188, 393, 408, 481, 497, 514, 674, 792 (see also Agriculture) Acclamation 441, 442, 449, 450, 453 Aegis 245, 782, 791 Ages – Golden 211 – Heroic 594, 602, 603, 614 Agriculture 169, 170, 173, 175, 179, 187, 188, 190, 193, 195–198, 201, 393, 399, 481, 782, 783, 788, 791, 792 (See also Abundance/Prosperity) Allegoresis 588, 624, 631–636, 710 Angels 83, 90–92, 94–96, 648–650, 652, 645, 692, 693, 695–698, 701, 702, 743, 751, 752, 754, 803 Animals 319, 344 – Apes 648, 650, 651 – Birds 318–321, 344, 648, 650 (see also Doves; Falcons/Hawkes) – Crocodiles 342–344, 657, 658 – Deer/Stags 108, 312, 319, 783, 784, 788 – Dogs 37, 44–49, 52, 465, 494, 504, 785 – Doves 417, 419, 420 – Falcons/Hawkes 341, 342, 344–352, 648, 650, 651, 657, 658, 783 – Serpents/Snakes 159, 160, 344, 655–659, 802 – Wolves 630–632, 635, 636, 782 Anonymity 14, 15, 112, 113, 600–602, 609–612, 843, 846–848 Anthropomorphism 5, 12–14, 187, 240, 341, 348, 351, 431, 738, 742–746, 753, 829, 834 (see also Body [divine]) Anthroponyms 155, 348, 351, 366, 369, 370, 378, 379, 675, 676, 709, 717, 721–724, 727, 832 – Ambiguous 466, 467, 469, 531, 532, 534, 536, 537, 539, 540, 542–546, 572, 573 – Based on divine epithets 467, 473–485 – Biblical 541–547, 573, 577 – Chosen by gods 536, 577 – Christian 466, 467, 531–547569–580 – of Christian saints 467, 531, 532, 535–539, 541, 543–546, 570, 573 – Christian (self-chosen) 540–542, 545, 570, 576, 577


Bible (see Scriptures)

Bilingualism 699, 760–776 (see also Codeswitching; Multilinguism; Tag-switching)


Divinisation 325–353, 552, 553, 555, 813, 815 Domestic cults 61, 392, 419, 771, 832, 838 Dreams 71, 72, 195, 196, 564, 607, 608, 749, 774, 802 Dunamis/Dynamis 244, 287, 403, 454, 655 Earthquakes (see Natural phenomena) Efficacy 4, 37, 64, 65, 68, 70–73, 80, 89, 90, 246, 287, 288, 292, 326, 414, 585, 653, 692, 693, 699, 772 Emperors – Chinese 62, 65, 69–71 – Roman 294, 295, 398, 400, 403, 406, 553–555, 558–564, 566 (see also Imperial cult)


Federation/Federalism 391, 445 Fertility 316, 674, 675 – Human 197, 201, 675 Festivals 802 – Bouphonia 398 – Diasia 213 – Dipolia 398 – Eleusinian mysteries see Mysteries – Festival of the Valley 815 – Thargelia 212 – Thesmophoria 185, 189, 190, 196–198, 201 Figurines 43–47, 49, 240, 336, 418 Filial cults 802, 805, 810, 818 Funerary cult 35, 36 – Cult of the ancestors 35, 36, 830–832, 838 – Cult of the divinised dead 173–175, 177, 178, 325–353, 815 – Royal cult 173–175, 177, 178 Funerary inscriptions/monuments 306, 314, 315, 320, 321, 373, 519, 520, 563, 746, 751, 752, 765–769, 776 Gemellity 422, 430, 431 Gender 419–422, 431, 454, 466, 560, 561, 563, 566 Gods – Ancestral 15, 16, 74, 130, 195, 245, 255, 257, 261, 263–265, 407, 441, 445, 452, 713, 715, 717, 720, 722–729, 769 – Cosmic 110, 179, 376, 393, 396, 400, 408, 409, 452, 623, 633, 634, 649, 674, 698, 701 – Egyptian 19, 21, 24, 66, 74, 99, 100, 110, 113, 114, 117, 213, 226, 246, 325–353, 406, 416, 417, 437, 449, 456, 499, 501, 502, 506, 507, 519, 520, 522, 524, 554, 555, 561, 576, 586, 587, 595, 596, 607, 613, 634–636, 642, 651, 658, 659, 661, 707, 727, 728, 738, 803–808, 811–818 – Foreign 309, 615, 634, 635, 642, 803, 805, 808, 812, 819, 847 – as Founders 112, 407, 426, 427, 558, 559, 566, 793 – Lunar 24, 47, 54, 111, 115, 148, 179, 430, 444, 445, 452, 475, 481–483, 648, 654, 833, 834, 837 – New 60, 212, 325–327, 333, 334–336, 341, 419–422, 449, 450, 613, 634, 814 – Poliad 361, 362, 378, 380, 392, 395, 398, 413, 423, 424, 427–431 (see also Gods>Tutelary) – Solar 20, 47, 110, 152, 306, 309, 344, 430, 478, 480, 483, 484, 631, 632, 635, 636, 646, 648–652, 654, 657, 658, 661, 671, 673, 674,

692, 727, 764, 766, 775, 783, 784, 788, 789, 791, 833, 834, 836, 837 – Storm-Gods 167, 168, 172, 173, 175, 177–180, 365, 368, 404, 406, 467, 473–476, 479–483, 514, 588, 670, 675, 783, 784, 788, 789, 791–794, 837 – Supra-regional 292–296 – Supreme 82, 83, 113, 167, 170, 173, 175, 362, 394, 395, 397, 401, 403, 589, 651, 654–657, 670, 671, 675, 698, 727, 740, 742, 754, 769, 770 – Tutelary 308, 361–363, 372, 378, 380, 381, 391, 392, 394, 395, 398–400, 405, 413, 423, 424, 427–431, 435, 436, 439–448, 451, 453, 457, 670, 673, 716, 717, 719, 735, 736, 783, 787, 832–834, 838, 846 (see also Gods>Poliad) – of the Underworld 23, 24, 148, 171, 172, 188, 190, 193, 196, 198, 201, 636, 765–769, 772, 776, 817 – Universal 24, 406, 408, 421, 629, 643, 650, 652–656, 669, 674, 680, 682, 698, 728, 735–744, 753, 774, 764, 774, 846 – Weather/Atmospheric 393, 399, 401–403, 405, 408, 409, 418, 450, 452, 670, 673–675, 788 (see also Gods>Storm-Gods) Greatness (divine) 68, 109, 335, 397, 402, 406, 407, 436, 440–442, 447, 482, 483 Healing/Health 151, 154, 170, 205–232, 376, 395, 403, 408, 498, 508, 509, 564, 565, 577, 605, 707, 749, 782, 784, 802, 811, 813–817 (see also Medicine) Hellenization 719–724, 726, 727, 729, 736


Kings/Queens 74, 167, 170–178, 294, 307, 315–318, 320, 321, 362, 396, 403–407, 672

Kinship 18, 73, 74, 149, 150, 167, 168, 170, 177, 187–190, 245, 261, 264, 315, 316, 321, 344, 392, 397, 484, 490, 491, 504, 505, 832, 835 (see also Couples; Gemellity)

Languages (see also Multilinguism; Bilingualism; Code-switching; Tag-switching; Script)


Lists of divine names 6, 7, 26, 51, 55, 102, 104, 111, 112, 125, 129–131, 145, 147, 149, 151–154, 156, 189, 372, 396, 400, 575, 605, 614, 811, 834–838 Logograms/Sumerograms 46, 51, 299, 307, 318,

319, 783, 833, 834

– Dingir 42, 783

Magic 4, 37, 44, 48, 89, 90, 96, 151, 315, 586, 587, 641–664, 709, 785, 789, 790 (see also Hymns>Magical) Marriage 197, 198


Multilinguism 300, 353, 644, 648–652, 654, 658, 659, 709, 719, 720, 725, 760–762, 766, 768 (see also Bilingualism; Code-switching; Tagswitching)


– as Narratives 587, 622, 623, 642, 644, 649, 650, 653–659, 663 – Natural 650, 651 – Nomen sacrum 724 – Obscure 588, 602, 614, 629, 670, 794 – Performative 14, 644, 648, 654, 659, 661, 694, 695, 698–700, 741, 743 – Powerful 14, 36, 48, 50, 89, 96, 586, 587, 642–644, 652, 654, 656, 659–662 – Proper name vs. title 365–382, 677, 678, 682, 736, 740, 741, 846 – Revealed/Prescribed by the gods 585–587, 593–596, 598, 599, 602–606, 608, 609, 613–616, 622, 643, 644, 659–662, 679, 680 – Secret 117, 586, 587, 600, 601 – Speaking/Transparent 13, 47, 361, 365, 381, 382, 447, 588, 599, 600, 602, 603, 670 – Transmitted between peoples 416, 417, 586, 592, 595, 596, 600 – True 114, 586, 591–594, 601–603, 613, 615, 616, 626, 644, 659 (see also Names>Authentic) Natural phenomena 68, 604, 607, 835, 837 (see also Winds) Number of characters in a name 65–67, 69, 650–652, 656–658, 663 Numen 132, 843, 846 Oaths 79, 85–88, 96, 363, 396, 697, 709 Omnipotence 110, 343, 409, 422, 440 Omphalos 260, 264 Onomaturgy 466, 571, 580, 626 Opfernde Götter 243, 246, 253, 260, 279, 284 Oracles 60, 61, 67, 68, 396, 397, 416, 587, 596, 598, 600, 602–610, 612–615, 707, 710, 769, 770, 788, 795, 802, 805, 806 (see also Divination) Oracular sanctuaries 221, 222, 402, 415–418, 802, 804, 806 Orthodoxy/Orthopraxy 414 Paeans 101, 102, 105–107, 212, 225, 229 Panhellenic – Gods 398, 421, 440, 601 – Names 144 – Religion 4 – Representation of the gods 246, 271, 288–295


442, 467, 468, 472, 484, 512, 671–673, 834–836, 838, 846 Papyri – Derveni papyrus 110, 624 – Greek Magical Papyri 641–664, 694, 815 – Imouthes Papyrus 814 – Papyrus Amherst 63, 520, 525–527, 717 Phiale 243, 252, 253, 260, 279, 283, 284 Philosophy 12, 27, 38, 111, 115, 118, 134, 414, 571, 587, 588, 591–593, 610–612, 614, 615, 621–627, 629, 631–636, 683, 684, 710, 746, 754 Physicians 206, 207, 217, 221–228, 230, 509 (see also Medicine) Pilgrimage 402, 707, 710, 801–819 Plague 213, 224, 565, 782, 784, 785, 810 – Antonine 565, 769 – Athenian 206, 212, 213, 215, 224, 232 – in the Iliad 224, 252, 782, 784 Polis religion 67, 393 Polyonymy 23, 24, 36, 44, 45, 67, 72, 104–106, 112, 141, 142, 144, 145, 393, 400, 436, 474, 585, 614, 622, 633, 634, 637, 649, 668, 669, 707, 792, 847 Polytheism and Monotheism (see Monotheism and Polytheism) Power 10, 13, 18, 23–25, 27, 38, 41, 42, 48, 50–53, 59, 61, 62, 64–66, 68–70, 72, 75, 93, 104–106, 129, 144, 187, 214, 226, 245, 246, 271, 283, 308, 336, 396, 400–403, 407–409, 450, 451, 456, 495, 505, 508, 566, 579, 599, 610, 650, 655–659, 661, 663, 701, 714, 739, 740, 744, 748–750, 753, 754, 774, 847 (divine ; see also Dunamis/Dynamis; Names>Powerful; Puissance divine) Praise/Glorification 23–27, 36, 38, 66, 80, 90–96, 100, 104, 106, 112, 113, 170, 326, 335, 436, 437, 440, 442, 446–448, 456, 516, 539, 556, 564, 614, 625, 695, 702, 774

Prayer 60, 61, 68, 71, 79, 129, 130, 133, 170, 629, 631, 643, 646, 649, 653, 692, 695, 837

Precautionary formula 111, 112, 114, 614, 624, 847 (see also Names>Choice of the right name)

Presentification 12, 13, 36, 744, 846


Puissance divine 141, 456, 714, 759, 769, 776 (see also Power) Purification 220–222, 224, 393, 646, 784, 789 Reliefs 259–265, 271–292, 295, 296, 310–314 Replications (iconographic) 250, 257, 258, 262–266, 283, 284 Sacrifice 279, 286, 395, 398–400, 646, 845 Saints (Egyptian) 326–353 (see also Anthroponyms>of Christian saints) Salvation/Soteria 60, 61, 65–68, 90, 170, 336, 399, 429, 440, 447, 448, 450, 451, 454, 456, 528, 551–553, 560–566, 699, 738, 748, 749 (see also Protection) Scripts 772 – Sacred 648 Scriptures (see also Dead Sea Scrolls) – Book of Enoch 689–703, 751 – Book of Job 677, 683 – Book of Qohelet 677, 683, 684 – Deuteronomy 180, 670, 671, 681, 745, 749, 753 (see also Deuteronomic traditions) – Elohistic Psalter 81, 82, 677, 681, 682 – Exodus 672, 673, 745, 753 – Genesis 671, 677–680 – Hebrew Bible 81, 366, 668–685, 691, 736–754 – Maccabees 404, 693, 694, 701, 721, 739, 740, 750, 751 – Pentateuch 80, 677, 694, 736, 751 – Priestly texts 82, 668, 673, 676–681 – Samareitikon 720, 729, 730 – Septuagint 585, 689, 691, 692, 694, 701, 720, 721, 729, 730, 736–754 Senses/Sensoriality 3, 5, 41, 47, 105, 239, 240, 288, 608, 659, 744, 746, 844, 845 Signs (divine) 124, 607, 612, 615 (see also Dreams; Oracles) Sovereignty 75, 92, 191, 193, 361–461, 589, 675, 677, 691–695, 698, 700–702, 737, 751, 846, 847 Spatial distribution of sanctuaries 428, 429, 442, 445, 448 Spirits 689–703, 750–752, 754 State (Chinese) 60, 62, 68–70, 75 Statues 169, 170, 172, 173, 239, 240, 252–266, 336, 337, 744

Taboo 14, 37, 113 (see also Ban on/Avoidance of using the name of God; Euphemism)

Tag-switching 762, 764, 766–768 (see also Bilingualism; Code-switching) Technitai 293–295 (see also Associations) Tetragrammaton 80–85, 87, 89, 585, 649, 670, 682, 683, 690, 691, 725, 736, 737 Theonyms 61, 271, 287, 288, 292–296, 361, 365–382, 393, 394, 398, 402, 473–477, 594, 595, 599, 602, 603, 613–615, 740, 741, 837, 838, 847 – Built on the name of another deity 419–422, 589, 847 Theophany (see Epiphany/Theophany) Thesmos 186, 197–202 Timai 12, 23, 72, 104–106, 413, 448 (see also Distribution of functions and honours) Titles 24, 25, 50, 60, 62, 64, 68–73, 75, 230, 361, 365–382, 479, 483, 484, 561, 736, 737, 740 Trade 11, 125, 126, 557, 707, 714, 717, 805, 808, 818 Tradition 37, 45, 102, 115, 122, 453, 585, 592, 594, 602, 614, 623, 624, 626, 627, 708 Transcendence 230, 682, 735, 742, 744, 831, 843, 846, 848 Translation 406, 407, 520, 595, 633–635, 650, 668, 684, 701, 707–710, 720, 725, 736, 737, 750, 751, 753, 754, 760–763, 769–772, 776, 802, 803, 808, 809, 811, 812, 818, 836, 837 Transliteration 720, 722–725, 729 Trishagion 694, 702 Voces magicae (see Names>Barbarika) Vows 86, 87, 96, 128, 129, 287, 288, 399, 759 Wars/Troubles 175, 176, 376–378, 380, 381, 399, 586 – Late Republican Civil Wars 449–451, 552, 560–562 – Mithridatic Wars 439, 440, 442, 447, 451, 551, 552, 556, 560 – Peloponnesian War 215

– Persian Wars 60, 72, 206 Winds 695, 696, 702 Wine 174, 175, 224, 225, 481, 484, 789, 792 Women 74, 190, 196, 201, 202 Writing 42, 46–53, 55, 91, 200, 201, 646, 648, 657, 659, 660, 662, 663 Youth 426, 428, 782, 783, 786 (see also Children;

Zion Theology 673, 676, 682, 684, 737, 738

Ephebes)