Iconography and Roman Religion

Roman iconography depicts religious practices, divine figures, mortal worshippers, and beliefs about the gods. Religious imagery reflects the importance of religion in Roman conceptions of the past, the fashioning of self-identity, and discursive practices. Representations of sacred spaces and occasions often emphasize their topographic arrangement within landscapes, giving religious imagery a strong sense of place. Inside sanctuaries, decorative imagery is augmented by iconography that facilitates ritual activity, illustrates cult-specific details, and shapes the experience of visitors. Religious iconography also highlights the contested natures of artifacts as well as the ways images enacted and reacted to social tensions. Although legal experts attempted to categorize the sacrality of images and artifacts, thoughts about an image’s status were mutable and rooted in personal experience and local factors. Many sacred images possessed agentive and talismanic properties, and manifested divine powers and presence.

Devotio and human sacrifice in archaic Italy and Rome

The Roman father and son of the same name, P. Decius Mus, became paragon heroes by deliberately giving their lives in battle that Rome might win over a fierce enemy. Both engaged in a special ritual called devotio (from which our word “devotion” derives) to offer themselves to the gods of the Underworld, with whom regular people have very little interaction and to whom they rarely sacrifice. While the Mus family is the most famous for this act, it turns out the willingness to sacrifice oneself for Rome frequently occurs within stories of great patriots, including the story of Horatius Cocles, Mettius Curtius, Atilius Regulus, and even the traitors Coriolanus and Tarpeia. Romans regarded self-sacrifice as a very high, noble endeavor, whereas they loathed and persecuted practitioners of human sacrifice. It is therefore quite amazing to read that the Romans thrice engaged in state-sponsored human sacrifice, a fact they rarely mention and generally forget. The most famous enemy practitioners of human sacrifice were the Druids, whom the Romans massacred on Mona Island on Midsummer Night's Eve, but the Carthaginians, the Germans, the Celts, and the Thracians all infamously practiced human sacrifice. To Romans, the act of human sacrifice falls just short of cannibalism in the spectrum of forbidden practices, and was an accusation occasionally thrown against an enemy to claim they are totally barbaric. On the other hand, Romans recognized their own who committed acts of self-sacrifice for the good of the society, as heroes. There can be no better patriot than he who gives his life to save his country. Often the stories of their heroism have been exaggerated or sanitized. These acts of heroism often turn out to be acts of human sacrifice, supposedly a crime. It turns out that Romans have a strong legacy of practicing human sacrifice that lasts into the historic era, despite their alleged opposition to it. Numerous sources relate one story each. Collecting them all makes it impossible to deny the longevity of human sacrifice in Rome, although most Romans under the emperors were probably unaware of it. The paradox of condemning but still practicing human sacrifice demonstrates the nature of Roman religion, where do ut des plays a crucial role in standard sacrifice as well as in unpleasant acts like human sacrifice. Devotio was an inverted form of sacrifice, precisely because it was an offering to the gods of the Underworld, rather than to Jupiter or the Parcae. Romans may have forsaken devotio, but they continued to practice human sacrifice far longer than most of us have suspected, if one widens the current narrow definition of human sacrifice to include events where a life is taken in order to bring about a better future for the commonwealth, appease the gods, or ensure a Roman victory in battle.

Who protects children in the Roman religion? From whom?

If we think of child protection in the Roman religion, the first goddess that comes to mind is Mater Matuta. This paper, however, does not focus directly on Mater Matuta, but on other divine figures to some extent related to her: Carna, Ino, and Thesan. Carna-Cranaë-Cardea, the nymph of the thresholds was celebrated on the calends of June, just ten days after the ceremony in the temple of Mater Matuta. The cult of Ino and Melicertes arose in Italy, where they were called by the Greeks Leukothea and Palaemon, and by the Romans Matuta and Portunus. Thesan was the Etruscan goddess connected with the Dawn, like Mater Matuta. To some extent, these divine figures are all related to kourotrophia. Incidentally, I will try to suggest that the Roman religious calendar from the 1st of June to the 11th of June was full of details which might allude to one another, with the aim of underlining the importance of human and divine kourotrophia, by using the concept of intertext in literary criticism.

Intertextuális utalások II-III. századi phrygiai sírfeliratokon

A Közép-Anatóliában fekvő Phrygia nagy történelmi múlttal, sajátos nyelvvel és kultúrával rendelkező térség volt a Római Birodalomban, ahol az írásbeliséget és az irodalmi műveltséget igen sokra becsülték. A Kr. u. II–IV. század közötti időszakból több száz görög nyelvű epigráfiai emlék maradt ránk, amely mindezt tanúsítja. A síremlékeken feltűnően nagy számban ábrázoltak írótáblákat, tolltartókat és papirusztekercseket, és sehol másutt nem került elő ennyi verses sírfelirat, melyeknek szinte mindegyike zsúfolásig tele van homérosi reminiszcenciákkal és klasszikus mitológiai utalásokkal. Mindez ráadásul nemcsak a városok, hanem a rurális területek lakói – többnyire egyszerű földművesek és állattenyésztők – körében is egyformán jellemző. Az epikus nyelven fogalmazott verses epitáfiumok a görög–római vallás hívei és a keresztények között is népszerűek voltak. Az utóbbiak természetesen bibliai idézetekkel és allúziókkal is bővítették irodalmi repertoárjukat, ráadásul már nagyjából másfél száz évvel a konstantini vallásbéke előtti időszakban.Phrygia in Central Anatolia was an area with a rich historical heritage, its own language, and particular culture within the Roman Empire, where literacy and literary education was highly valued. All this is witnessed by hundreds of Greek epitaphs that have come down to us from the period between the second and fourth centuries A.D. A strikingly large number of these funerary monuments depict writing tablets, styluses, pen cases and papyrus scrolls; and nowhere else have so many metrical epitaphs been preserved in the territory of the whole Empire, filled with Homeric reminiscences and classical mythological references. Besides, this is equally typical of the inhabitants of urban and rural areas – simple farmers and stockbreeders – as well. Poetic epitaphs in an epic language were popular among both the devotees of the Greco-Roman religion and Christians. And naturally, the latter expanded their literary repertoire with Biblical quotations and allusions as early as 150 years prior to the religious peace of Constantine’s reign.

The Term ἀντίψυχος as an Expiatory Sacrifice of Martyrs in the Light of The Fourth Book of Maccabees and Other Ancient Extra-Biblical Literature

The Fourth Book of Maccabees (4 Macc) in the description of Eleazar's prayer, before he suffered a martyr’s death (6:29) as well as the martyrdom of seven brothers and their mother who suffered for the nation (17:21), the term ἀντίψυχος (which means “given in exchange for life”) is used twice. This adjective appears only twice in the Septuagint (LXX), to be precise, in 4 Macc The context of both passages suggests a broader meaning of the term, translated with reference to a sacrifice of life having a propitiatory, expiatory, vicarious and voluntary character, and even atonement for the sins of the Jewish people. In this article, the subject of expiatory martyrdom in 4 Macc will be taken in the context of the biblical, apocryphal and other ancient texts, with reference to the flow of ideas and terminology of Greco-Roman religion, poetry and philosophy. In addition, possible translations of the term ἀντίψυχος will be analyzed, included in the broader context of Greek and other terminologies, so as to show possible connections between the idea of ​​expiatory martyrdom and the ideas described in the New Testament.

Introduction

This Introduction presents a study of Latin vocabulary for solitude as background for replacing bipartite divisions of Roman life (e.g., otium and negotium, “public” and “private”) with a tripartite model comprising public, private, and solitary spheres. It outlines this model’s applicability to Greek literature and philosophy, Roman religion, and Roman law, leading to a discussion of the Roman bedroom (cubiculum) and the solitary reading and writing to which it could be home. Reviewing the history of scholarship on Roman society, religion, and literature from antiquity through the present, it demonstrates how and why solitude has been written out of the study of Roman culture, and how the problem of solitude relates to the question of the individual in ancient society. Finally, it explores the relationship of literature to Rome’s solitary sphere in the age of Virgil, addressing problems of periodization, the relationship between literary criticism, philosophy, and literary production.

NUMA AND JUPITER: WHOSE SMILE IS IT, ANYWAY?

This article examines the Roman tradition that Numa once negotiated with Jupiter about human sacrifice. Complete versions of the myth survive in Ovid, Plutarch and Arnobius (citing Valerius Antias). Previous studies of this tradition have proposed four main interpretations of it, which have done important service in modern reconstructions of the character of Roman religion. These scholarly treatments raise several questions. First, are they actually supported by, or the most convincing way of reading, the surviving ancient sources? If so, have they been correctly attributed? Why might a specific ancient author present the myth of Numa and Jupiter in a manner which suggests one interpretation rather than another? What ideological and theological work does the story do for Ovid, for Plutarch and for Arnobius? Finally, can this myth, in whatever version, support the weight of the implications put on it for the character of Roman religion? This article seeks to enhance our understanding of this myth in its surviving versions, not just by analysing the evidence for each of the modern interpretations, but also by considering why ancient authors tell the myth of Numa and Jupiter the way they do. It is argued that their choices illustrate best not one meaning of the myth nor one Roman way of piety but the richness and diversity of religious reflection in antiquity.