The Archaeology of the Mediterranean World

A Description of an Early Christian Baptistery

I continue to work with Robin Jensen and Richard Rutherford in an effort to prepare a catalogue of Early Christian baptisteries.  The goal of the catalogue is to present this material in a way that makes it more accessible to a broader audience (than Ristow's otherwise satisfactory work) and with a greater emphasis on regional characteristics, indicators of ritual activities, and their place within their immediate spatial context and built environment.  I've taken a stab at one of the longer entries in this catalog, but may not have struck the balance between scholarly precision and accessibility.

Lechaion

The Lechaion Baptistery ranks among the most architecturally elaborate and lavishly decorated baptisteries in the Eastern Mediterranean and yet remains relatively unknown.  The baptistery sits less than 200 meters from the Gulf of Corinth at the ancient harbor of Lechaion, the Western harbor of Corinth.  The baptistery is situated at the southwestern corner of the Lechaion basilica.  This massive three-aisled basilica with a large atrium and double narthex is the largest and most ornate church in Greece and seems almost certainly to be associated with a prominent local saint.  Today, nothing of the church exists about the lowest reaches of the walls, but these are sufficiently well-preserved to provide a complete floor plan of this impressive building.

The baptistery itself consists of three architecturally distinct compartments.  The largest is a 16.20 m x 7.60 hall with apses on its north and south end.  This main hall was entered from the south end, presumably from the basilica , through the apse.  To the east of this apsidal hall were two additional chambers.  The northern chamber has a central core measuring 5.05 m square with apsidal exedra at the cardinal directions.  Entered from the west through the western apse, this room was identified by the excavator as the apodyterion.  This chamber lacks a font and seemed well positioned for this purpose.  Immediately to the south of this chamber was the octagonal photisterion or baptistery proper which measures 3.15 m across.  It appears to have communicated with the apodyerion to its north through the triangular space formed by the east wall of the long hall and the west walls of the north and south chambers.  The octagonal room featured apses at the corners and square exedra at the cardinal directions.  To the west, the photisterion communicated with the long hall.  To the east projects an usually shaped apse.  Marble revetment decorated the walls of the elaborate buildings and the interior of the font. 

The photisterion preserved two fonts.  The center of the octagonal interior space featured cruciform octagonal font set in the floor with stairs on the northern and southern cross-arms.  It is just under .50 m in depth.  Such cruciform fonts are common in the Corinthia and in Late Roman Achaea more broadly.  A smaller font sits in the southeast apse.  The chronology of the baptistery complex is difficult to ascertain with any certainty.  The basilica has a terminus post quem of 425 leading the excavator to argue that the basilica was largely 5th century in date and destroyed during the 6th century earthquakes.  Recently, however, scholars have been inclined to date the basilica to the 6th century, perhaps during the reign of Justinian or Anastasius, on the basis of ceramics found in nearby graves and architectural cues.  While an archaeological date for the construction of the basilica is unlikely to emerge, it seems probable that the building continued to stand into the second half of the 6th century.  Any clarity regarding the dating of the church sheds little light on the date of the baptistery.  It is on a slightly different orientation to the main church, however, suggesting an earlier date.  The baptistery may have also remained in use later than the main church.  One argument for the second font suggests that it came into use to allow the photisterion to serve as the church after the main basilica became damaged or fell out of use.  This practice appears to have occurred elsewhere in the Corinthia.

The baptistery is striking in that it is close to the main basilica, but they hardly represent an architectural unit.  The entrance on the south side of the baptistery allowed for easy access from the narthex of the main church through a door in its north wall.  Seemingly later and relatively insubstantial walls created a courtyard between the north wall of the basilica and the baptistery.  Ancillary room attached to the northern wall of the basilica may have also functioned in conjunction with the baptistery and provided access to the church’s northern aisle or galleries which are no long preserved.  This may have provided an easy way for catechumens to enter and leave the basilica for the baptistery complex.

Bolonaki, I. (1976). Ta Palaiochristianika Baptisteria tes Ellados. Athens Archaeological Society, Athens, 65-66.

Ristow,S. (1998). Früchristliche Baptisterien, Aschendorffesche Verlagsbuchhandlung.  Munich, pp. 155-156, no. 249

Sanders, G. D. R. (1999). A Late Roman Bath at Corinth: Excavations in the Panayia Field, 1995–1996. Hesperia 68: 441–480.
Sanders, G. D. R. (2005). "Archaeological Evidence for Early Christianity and the End of Hellenic Religion in Corinth," in D. N. Schowalter and S. J. Friesen, Urban Religion in Roman Corinth. Harvard Theology Studies, Cambridge, MA., pp.. 419-442.

Varales, I. (2001). E epidrase tes theias leitourgias kai ton ieron akolouthion sten ekklesiastike architectonike tou anatolikou Illyrikou (395-573). Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. Thessaloniki.

Four Miniposts on a disjointed Tuesday

I usually wake up, become oriented, and think about what I will do and blog about for the day.  This morning, I slipped into some kind of overload.  I could not put together a coherent blog post, plan for the day, or strategy for the week.  This semester has presented me with a whole series of mini-tasks.  None takes more than a day or two and none provides any sense of accomplishment. 

So, in the spirit of the mini-task, I offer four mini-posts:

1. Video and the Pyla-Koutsopetria Archaeological Project.  So what would happen if we distributed 5 simple HD cameras to folks on PKAP this summer.  They were told to video anything of interest to them and at the end of each day, we downloaded the video onto a hard drive and marked with the individual's name.  On the return to the US we turned it all over to another group of students, faculty, folks, people, scholars, whoever, and asked them to produce a mash-up, narrative, montage, or whatever.  What would we learn?  What would we see?  Who would be the author? Most importantly, what would this exercise or experiment tell us about the experience of archaeology on Cyprus with the Pyla-Koutsopetria Archaeological Project?

2. Military History in Murfreesboro.  In April, I am going to the Society for Military History's Annual Meeting in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.  I was invited to comment on papers offered by a group of graduate students from Penn State on topics related to archaeology and the Battle of Issus where Alexander first defeated the Persian King Darius III.  This is pretty far from my comfort zone, although I did write my M.A. Thesis on Alexander the Great and I have worked on Hellenistic fortifications.  I have to be honest when I say that I am a bit nervous about this, but the idea of the archaeology of ancient battlefields, has begun to intrigue me.  The most recent wave of intensive pedestrian survey archaeology has done little to clarify the topography of battle in the ancient world, and, in this regard, stands in contrast to its predecessor -- extensive survey, which often sought to localize ancient battles within the modern topography.  So, I think that I will be able to say something...

3. Cyberpunk Space and Archaeology.  This is a tiny post for our Punk Archaeology project.  I had a habit of reading William Gibson on flights to conduct archaeological work in Greece and Cyprus.  Gibson was among the founders of the Cyberpunk movement and many of his books are characterized by vivid "post-urban" landscapes.  While all his books work at the intersection of material culture, punk, and identity, his Bridge Trilogy (Virtual Light, Idoru, and All Tomorrow's Parties) was the first to draw me in -- if for no other reason than one of the books was titled All Tomorrow's Parties and any book with a title from a Velvet Underground song deserves to be read.  One of the key settings in these works (which I have not read for at least 5 years) is Bay Bridge in San Francisco which after being damaged in an earthquake became an interstitial settlement.  Spolia, the re-use of urban space, cultural and political dystopia, and the shadow of natural disasters evoke themes common to literature on Late Antique archaeology. 

4. An Encyclopedia of Baptisteries.  I've recently returned to thinking about Early Christian baptisteries. Hopefully I will have a few early drafts of encyclopedia type entries done in the next week or so. As I write these relatively short entries, I've had to think about what to include and exclude in each and who my audience will be.  It reminded me of site reports from my time at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens.  Do I  include dimensions?  Do I include scholarly debates?  How much bibliography should I include?  Should I interpret as much as I describe?  More?

So, four mini posts for the day.

The Butrint Baptistery Mosaics

This weekend I enjoyed John Mitchell's new book, The Butrint Baptistery Mosaics, published this year by the Butrint Foundation.  The circular baptistery at Butrint is among the most important Early Christian buildings in the Balkans and a fairly well-preserved example of the art of mosaic decoration on the Adriatic coast.  (A nice line drawing of the mosaic is here).

The book brings out several particularly interesting aspects of the baptistery mosaics and their architectural context.  First, The two central scenes in the mosaic, peacocks surrounding a kantharos sprouting vines and two stages at a fountain, are clearly tied to Christian iconography of eternal life. Peacocks symbolized eternal life as their flesh was thought not to decompose and the stags evoked the first verse of the Psalm 41 (33-37) in which stags and water were combined lending the text baptismal significance.  Aside from these two panels, however, there was very little on this floor that lent itself immediately to exegetical interpretation. 

The rest of this round building's floor is covered with linked medallions filled with birds, sea creatures, and domestic and exotic animals.  Mitchell reads these critters as representing "A New Creating and an Earthly Paradise" (41).  This, indeed, seems plausible.  It is worth noting, however, that some of the panels appear to represent rural pursuits like the hunt.  Three consecutive roundels show a hunting dog, a stage, and a net.  Throughout Classical Antiquity, the hunt was identified with aristocratic pursuits.  Moreover, the juxtaposition of exotic animals like lions and leopards with more mundane animals like dogs and donkeys could link the life of the countryside where more typical domesticated animals were common with the life of the city with its exotic animals representing shows in the arena.  Animal combat scenes and staged hunts, frequently involving exotic animals, would have been a familiar aspect of the more cosmopolitan centers of the empire into the 6th century.  The otium of aristocratic life in the countryside is a well-developed theme in Late Antiquity and would have complemented allusions to animal games in the urban center likely sponsored by the elite.  Thus, paradise, in part, is framed by themes tinged with aristocratic values the same way that the presiding Bishops homilies would have been enlivened with the aristocratic language of Classical paideia.

Slight differences in how we read the mosaic floors do little to challenge Mitchell's careful reading of the floors at Butrint.  Of particular value are his suggestions that subtle variations in the floors -- for example, different motifs in the interlinked roundels -- marked out places of ritual importance in the baptistery.  Checkerboard patterns in several of the outer most ring of roundels evoke the checkered pattern immediately surrounding the central font.  Mitchell suggests that coincidence may have marked the area where the bishop stood during the baptismal ceremony.  In effect the checked pattern marks linked the ritual power of the central font to the place where the bishop presided.

Finally, the baptistery at Burtint has intriguing connections with important buildings elsewhere in the Balkans. The mosaics floors were almost certainly the product of a workshop based in Nikopolis in Epirus (31).  The presence of a fountain in the baptistery, roughly on axis with the font and the axial mosaic panels depicting the stags and the peacocks has parallels with the similar fountain from the baptistery at the Lechaion basilica in Corinth.  The large, free-standing and centrally planned baptistery finds comparanda from several other sites in the Mediterranean.  Relatively recent geophysical work in the eastern part of the city of Corinth has produced an image that looks very much like a large octagonal baptistery there (G. D. R. Sanders, “Archaeological Evidence for Early Christianity and the End of Hellenic Religion in Corinth,” in Urban Religion in Roman Corinth: Interdisciplinary Approaches. D. N. Schowalter and S. J. Friesen eds. (Cambridge 2005), 440). This would form another link between the site of Butrint and Corinth.  Scholars have long recognized the connection between the prominent transept basilicas at Corinth and the city of Nikopolis (and elsewhere in the Epirus) (see: D. I. Pallas “Corinth et Nicopolis pendant le haut moyen-âge,” FR 18 (1979), 93-142).  The Butrint baptisteries through links to both Nikopolis and Corinth reinforce the place of the latter city in the Adriatic world of the West with its close ties to Italy and Rome.

Baptisteries and Nashville

Last week I took a quick trip to Nashville to discuss a new project that seeks to produce a comprehensive (but not exhaustive) catalogue of baptisteries for the Early Christian World.  I am part of an editorial team (with Robin Jensen of Vanderbilt and Richard Rutherford of the University of Portland) who will assemble and manage a team of scholars to bring together their specialized regional knownledge of the Early Christian architectural remains. 

The project will not be an ordinary catalogue (a version of which already exists in S. Ristow's Frühchristliche Baptisterien (Münster 1998)), but serve as the basis for a regionally and chronologically informed discussion of "site and rite".  That is to say, our catalogue of baptisteries will be informed by an interest in the interaction between Early Christian baptismal liturgy and architecture.  The hope is that this will not only bring the importance of liturgy to the attention of archaeologists and art historians working on these buildings in a new way, but also provide a resource for modern church leaders and liturgical planners as they seek to find points of dialogue between the contemporary rite and antiquity.  To serve more fully the latter goal, we plan to complement our written catalogue with an online database with interactive maps, searchable texts, and images.  It's a big project, but we have a substantial and competent team assembled.

And, it allowed me to visit Nashville including the famed Parthenon.  It was as bizarrely wonderful as one might suggest of any ancient Greek monument translated onto American soil.