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Tomb 163d in the North Necropolis of Hierapolis in Phrygia: An insight into the funerary gestures and practices of the Jewish diaspora in Asia Minor in late Antiquity and the proto-Byzantine period
Abstract
The collective tomb 163d, recently excavated in the North Necropolis of Hierapolis, is characterized by the representation of a hanoukkiah and an inscription mentioning Jewish owners. A general assessment of the knowledge of burial practices in Palestine and other places of Jewish diasporas is then proposed, with a particular focus on the treatment of the body. Although the history of the tomb is complex and shows at least two phases of occupation, the funerary dispositions observed in tomb 163d are examined by the mode of burial and the secondary depositions. The primary depositions, some of which were made in a wooden container, were in all parts of the grave. Some depositions preceding the Jewish phase were left in situ, but the majority, according to their volume, were moved about. These observations match well with elements known from Jewish communities settled in Hierapolis and in Asia Minor, showing a proximity between pagans and Jewish burials. In particular, the conclusions reject the idea that bones were collected in a separate container, as known in Palestinian tombs, and demonstrate that the movement and the skeleton’s loss of individuality inside the tomb were admitted, making them inalienable, despite the change of users.
Keywords: burial customs, collective grave, funeral management, Jewish communities, Hierapolis in Phrygia, late Antiquity, proto-Byzantine period.
Introduction
The Jewish diaspora from Asia Minor during Antiquity is above all known from historical and epigraphic sources but not from archaeological excavations. However, the exceptional discovery in the North Necropolis of Hierapolis in Phrygia of an untouched subterranean chamber associated with Jewish inscriptions contributes new knowledge about the funerary practices of the Jewish communities. As far as we know, this is the only Jewish tomb to have been excavated in Asia Minor. The fact that the chamber was not robbed gives the opportunity to analyze the funerary data in a different light by approaching the mortuary gestures on bodies, bones, and objects, which defined the use of the grave. The results of the excavation of this funeral chamber reveal that the burials spread from the first and at least until the 6th century AD, but as the Jewish inscription is dated to the 3rd century, the Jewish burials are related to the second phase of occupation occurring after the purchase of the tomb.
The purpose of our contribution is to document what could have been the funerary practices in the micro-Asian Jewish diaspora, by presenting the funerary gestures observed in tomb 163d. Firstly, a point will be made on existing studies on the funerary practices and gestures of the antique Jewish communities, followed by a methodical analysis of the grave 163d. The final aim is to put these results into a wider ancient Asia Minor context.
Investigating the funeral gestures and practices of the Jewish communities
During late Antiquity and the proto-Byzantine period the Jewish diasporas were present in almost all the Mediterranean countries (Rutgers and Bradbury 2006, 493; Hadas-Lebel 2011). However, our knowledge of their funerary practices is confronted with many problems, some of them valid also for non-Jewish graves, as, for example, past lootings and re-use(s) of the tomb, the lack of documentation and publications of old excavations, as well as funerary objects and stelae out of context (Stern 2013, 271). Nevertheless, the main problem is the identification of the Jewish graves in the diasporas. In general, the Jewish diasporas did not have a specific community area in which to bury their dead: they were settled among those of the ‘Gentiles’ and consequently were located outside of cities, in the urban outskirts (Rutgers 1992; Noy 1998). At the scale of the tomb, if the burial caves with one or several sub-rectangular chambers were the most common collective graves in Palestine (Hachlili 2005), the architecture of Jewish collective tombs is very close, if not similar, to pagan tombs in the diasporas. Few Palestinian influences in the tombs are visible, although there are some cases of kokhim, a kind of loculi cut perpendicularly into the walls, as at the site of Vigna Randini in Rome (Noy 1997, 86). Mural paintings or sarcophagus decorations did not always contain Jewish iconographic motifs nor did they contain Jewish symbols mixed with pagan motifs, which could have generated a debate on the Jewish nature of these graves (Rutgers 1998, 58–68). In the same way, in the diasporas, inscriptions on tombs are mostly in Latin or Greek; their contents, especially for onomastics and tomb protection measures, are similar to pagan inscriptions, although they could express a strong allegiance to Judaism (Rutgers 1995, 139–209; 1998, 57). In these inscriptions, the family ties are specified; in Palestine, the Jewish graves are above all family graves and lots of them were used for several generations (Hachlili 2005, 519, 524; 2007). The tomb is for the immediate family, but the extended family, such as the slaves and freedmen, could be buried inside, in particular in the regions where Roman influence was important (Rebillard 2003, 33). The few available osteological studies demonstrate indeed a well-balanced sex-ratio and access to the grave for young children (Hachlili 2005).
In short, our knowledge of Jewish burial customs depends on a limited number of archaeological discoveries, coming from the architecture of the tombs, the inscriptions and the symbolic motives engraved or painted on them (Rutgers 1998, 19; Künzl 1999, 43). If the diaspora of Rome, one of the largest diasporas, is one of the most known because of the long tradition of study of the Jewish catacombs in the Urbs, the archaeological material in other diasporas are much scattered and poor (Rutgers 1998, 139). As the diasporas are spread across the Mediterranean and connected to several waves of immigration, problems of geographical, but also chronological representativeness, can thus be evoked. The fact that only the monumental tombs are well identified as Jewish leads us to think that archaeologists do not know how to recognize simple graves belonging to the modest Jewish classes (Noy 1998; Stern 2013). This adds a bias: an over-representation of elites who could afford monumental tombs (Magness 2011). On the contrary, in the last decades a large number of tombs have been excavated in Palestine, and published, allowing some synthesis of the funerary practices during the Second Temple period and to a lesser extent, during late Antiquity (Hachlili 2005).
All these problems, as they shall be exposed below, will explain that few scholars really address the issue of the treatment of the body and the funerary gestures in Jewish diasporas. What we know about the primary deposits is quite limited. After death, the deceased were wrapped in rush mats or in shrouds (Hachlili 2005, 481). The deceased were always dressed; according to the wealth of the family, they could wear rich clothes or a simple cloth, but to be buried nude was considered a dishonour (Krauss 1934, 29). After the dead had been transported on a bier or a mattress to the cemetery, the corpse was placed in a wooden coffin or box (Hachlili 2005, 481); most young children were also buried in these containers (Krauss 1934, 29–31, 34). This is the most frequent mode of burial in the Palestinian sites of En Gedi (Hadas 1994) and in Beth Shea’rim (Mazar 1973, 222). More rarely these coffins could be of clay (Vitto 2011) or lead (Weiss 2010). The deceased were deposited on their back, with arms and legs extended (Hachlili 2005, 457). As known, cremation was forbidden by the Jewish law; when cremation deposits are discovered in graves or ossuaries, these are interpreted as a re-use of the grave by pagans, even if they leave the earlier deposits in situ (Avni et al. 1994, 216).
Contrary to the primary deposits, scholars have, for a long time, examined the question of secondary deposits for the Jews of Palestine, because of the rather frequent discovery of ossilegium in the burial caves. These containers, where the bones of the deceased were collected after decomposition (Hachlili 2005), were used in the late Second Temple period (1st century BC–1st century AD). Maintaining individuality became indeed fundamental in Jewish ritual, to permit the resurrection (Hachlili 2005, 524). Religious texts explained how to arrange the bones (Cohen-Matlofsky 1991). The bones in Palestine were grouped in different ways; they could be put in a stone, or more rarely, in a clay ossilegium (Kancel, 2009, 286), which sometimes carried the deceased’s names and his family ties (Hachlili 2007, 263–7; Ilan 2007, 67). Wood containers are attested at the sites of En Gedi (Hadas 1994) and Beth Shea’rim (Mazar 1973, 223). However, the bones could also be grouped in the corner of a loculus or of the grave, or in small special loculi. The Semahot (XII), the rabbinic mourning tractate (Zlotnick 1966), does not recommend the use of a shroud, because after its decomposition, the bones contained in it could mix with other individuals’ remains (Krauss 1934, 10). Predominating in Jerusalem and its region (Kancel 2009), this practice seems to have been the standard in the 1st century AD, when the notion of individual place within the family took on more importance, subsequently, in the middle of the 3rd or in the 4th century, it became more sporadic and disappeared (Fine 2000; Hachlili 2005, 521–2; 2007, 277). Such secondary deposits were not maintained in the catacombs of Rome, but this is an argument ex silentio based solely on the lack of ossilegia (Krauss 1934, 2). The increasing dispersion of the Jews, however, led to the idea that the preservation of the deceased’s bones was not relevant for the resurrection (Rahmani 1994, 205). Nevertheless, some containers for secondary deposits seem to have been found in the Gammarth catacombs, in Tunisia (Stern 2011, 333).
After the Second Temple period, the bones were placed in a central and common ossuary. In the grave of the family Eros, in the Beth She’arim necropolis, ossilegia dating from the Second Temple period rested on the ground and were covered by dislocated bones mixed with fragments of wooden coffins; this deposit, 0.50–0.60 m thick, was dated to the 5th century AD (Avni et al. 1994). However, some scholars, handling in a more or less detailed way the question of the varied practices around the secondary deposits, consider that the use of the collective ossuary and the ossilegia was contemporary, if only because not everybody could afford an ossilegium (Fine 2000, 74). Moreover, also a third stage in the mortuary treatment could have been practised: the bones placed in an ossilegium were subsequently shifted to a common ossuary, so that the ossilegium could be reused (Cohen-Matlofsky 1991). In fact, due to the long, continued use of the tombs, most of them contained both wooden coffins, ossilegium, and a common ossuary. This demonstrates the reluctance of Palestinian Jews to dispose of the bones of their ancestors from the family grave (Cohen-Matlofsky 1991), even when the grave was cramped or full.
Concerning the deposits of objects, it was in theory forbidden to feed the dead or to make offerings (Oberhänsli-Widmer 1998, 71). Furthermore, the burial should not be too expensive (Morris 1992, 118; Noy 1998, 83). Since the deceased was considered impure, objects used during the funeral ceremonies could not be reused in everyday life and were consequently deposited in the grave. Therefore, the artefacts discovered in the Palestinian graves are often limited to glass or ceramic containers, which were used to pour wine or perfumed oils on the bones during their gathering (Semahot, XII, in Zlotnick 1966), and to lamps used during the funeral ceremonies. A large number of them are often discovered in the graves, such as the 30 lamps found in Qiryat Tiv’on (Vitto 2011) or in burial cave 1 in Aceldama, dated to the 3rd century AD (Avni et al. 1994, 207). However, the archaeological reality shows that other kinds of objects were also deposited in the tombs. So, the presence of coins was not exceptional (Avni et al. 1994, 209; Greenhut 1994; Syon 2002). During the second half of the Second Temple period, the tombs could contain cosmetic utensils, spindles and whorls, modest jewels such as beads, bronze bells and box clasps (Hachlili 2005, 394–401). However, when a lot of artefacts, in particular jewels, are discovered, the tombs are not interpreted as Jewish graves (Vitto 2008a). The deposition of the goods in the tombs was as follows: the personal belongings were put in the coffin with the deceased, whereas containers, like bowls, craters, and unguentaria, were laid on the coffin or close to it (Hachlili 2005, 519). The personal objects of the deceased were later transferred with her/his bones to the common ossuary (Rahmani 1994, 193). The diachronic analysis of the goods’ deposits in the necropolis of Beth She’arim revealed that oil lamps and objects were generally dated to before the middle of the 3rd century AD, although some artefacts were even dated to the Byzantine period (Weiss 2000, 225). From the 3rd century AD onwards, the Jewish graves contained fewer and fewer objects, reduced to the presence of lamps (Rahmani 1994, 205). On the funeral sites of diasporas, the data is very scarce. Many ceramic artefacts and lamps from the Jewish catacombs have not been recorded and analyzed (Rutgers 1998, 69; Stern 2011, 314). Studies on sarcophagi, gold glasses or marble chancel screens have shown that the Jewish objects were made in the same workshops as the objects from pagan graves and that Jews could use pagan objects and symbols, like amulets (Rutgers 1992).
Although no synthesis exists on the funeral practices of the Jewish diasporas and it is not always easy to make precise comparisons, the available data support a conclusion that the Jews of diasporas borrowed more from the local funeral practices than following the biblical rules (Rutgers 1992; Stern 2013). This phenomenon is maybe due to the fact that the funerals were a matter of family responsibility and not of the synagogue, the rituals being considered as a private choice (Davies 1999, 106). However, from the 3rd century AD, there is more evidence that the community was implicated in the funeral management, in particular to set up or organize the commemorations (Williams 1994, 171–3). Adopting the local burial customs is certainly not an isolated phenomenon but is also observed in other immigrant communities. Greeks settled in Alexandria continued to cremate their deceased ones, but some adopted the Egyptian practice of mummification (Empereur and Nenna 2001, 522–3). Even today, modern examples of Tunisian and Turkish immigrants show that the repatriation of bodies to their country of origin is the norm in the first few decades, before new funeral spaces are created in their country of settlement. This represents the symbol of a definitive establishment and integration (Chaib 1996).
Tomb 163d
General presentation of the tomb: some Jewish evidence
Description of the grave
Tomb 163d is situated in the North Necropolis of Hierapolis of Phrygia, above the road which led to Tripolis (Fig. 4.1). It is easily visible on the gentle hill slope and participates in the monumental framework of the necropoleis skirting the city (Ronchetta and Mighetto 2007, 433; Laforest 2015). The tomb, oriented more or less north/south with the entrance in the south, belongs to a funeral complex consisting of one bomos, several sarcophagi resting on low platforms, and small chambers with unclear functions. The rectangular, saddle-roofed house-shaped tomb building itself, built in travertine ashlar masonry, is raised on a high podium and crowned by a saddle roof (Figs. 4.2–3). It belongs to a type developed in the 1st century AD (Ronchetta and Mighetto 2007). The tomb has chambers (3.15×2.75 m) on two levels, the lower one, in the podium of the tomb, was partly subterranean dug in the bedrock. Both chambers have travertine benches along three walls in the normal Asia Minor fashion, the upper room having notches in the walls used as supports for a second row of elevated benches (not preserved). While the upper chamber was found empty, the subterranean was full of non-disturbed bones and soil. The chamber was indeed closed by a thick and sub-rectangular slab of travertine. The original access to this lower funerary chamber is unfortunately not documented, because the soil which covered the area in front of the opening, up to the current ground level, had been cleared without archaeological recording before our intervention.
Fig. 4.1. Hierapolis. Map of the North Necropolis with position of tomb complex 163 signaled (modified after D’Andria, Scardozzi, and Spanò 2008, p. 55, quadro 4; courtesy of the Missione archeologica italiana a Hierapolis in Frigia).
Fig. 4.2. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. View of tomb 163d with surrounding sarcophagi, from west (Photo by J. R. Brandt).
Analysis of the inscriptions and discussion on the access to the grave
The façade of the tomb, decorated by finely carved lion pawns at its corners surmounted by simple corner pilasters and boasting a central, large door opening with finely profiled jambs and lintel. On the left, between the pilaster and the door jamb runs a first inscription:
Fig. 4.3. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. The two superimposed chambers of tomb 163d from south (superior part integrated from Ronchetta and Mighetto 2007, 439 fig. 6; courtesy of the Missione archeologica italiana a Hierpolis in Frigia).
This text can be translated as: ‘The heroon with the room situated below and the area all around belongs to Aurelia Kodratilla, to Aur. Markellos, and to Aurelia Pyronis, and to Aurelia […], Jewish’ (Ritti 2007, 606). It is thus specified that the owners possessed not only the tomb, that is to say both chambers, but also the space all around. As is often the case in Hierapolis, it is a common property (Ritti 2004, 486), because this tomb belongs to a group of four people: a woman (Kodratilla), two men (Markellos and Pyronis), and a person of unknown sex (due to bad preservation of the stone her/his name is illegible). The first owner to be named, Aurelia Kodratilla, is a woman; this suits Trebilco (1991, 231) well, who considers that the Jewish women had a certain financial independence and played a more active role in the public life of their family than was the case for non-Jewish women (Ritti 2004, 486). The persons named in the inscription do not reveal their family ties, but define themselves as Jews and thus share the same religion/ethnic group (Cohen 1999). The shape of the letters, but especially the onomastic Aurelia, allow us to date the inscription to the 3rd century AD, most probably to after 212 AD, when the Constitutio Antoniana gave Roman citizenship to all free inhabitants of the Roman Empire, and many adopted the family name of Emperor Caracalla, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. In any case, the inscription cannot be earlier than the reign of Marcus Aurelius (161–180 AD) (Ritti, 2004, 464). Moreover, the custom to assert property of a tomb by listing the different owners becomes much more common in the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD (personal communication, T. Ritti, 2014). Two centuries after the construction of the tomb 163d, an inscription is thus engraved on the monument. The onomastics, as we have just seen, sweep away the possibility that the mentioned persons are the original owners, whose memory, in this case, should have survived for two centuries before being engraved on the stone. It is, therefore, highly likely that this inscription thus reflects a purchase of the tomb. A similar situation has recently been recorded in one of the tombs of the North-East Necropolis (Ahrens and Brandt 2016, 402). As for the first ‘occupiers’ of the tomb, no epigraphic information is preserved.
The second, less complete inscription, on the block immediately below the first one can be deciphered as follows: ‘will be buried [… the son?] of Aureli […] and of Aurelia Kodratilla and the sons of Ioustos; also me too, Doros, the father of Ioustos, but after my death that my sons have the right, and if somebody violates he will give to the very holy treasury […] money’ (Fig. 4.4). The writing is slightly different from the first inscription: it is less careful, less classic, but it is impossible to date it precisely. The mention of Aurelia Kodratilla’s sons and the expanded access to the grave demonstrates that the inscription is later than the first one, certainly within a rather short lapse of time of not more than one or two generations. Two new males are named, Doros and Ioustos, while a number of individuals are mentioned under the term of their ‘sons’. It seems logical to assume that Aurelia Kodratilla’s sons also were Jewish, but it is not certain that Doros and Ioustos as well as their sons were. As is often the case in Asia Minor, the last part of the inscription threatens with fines to anyone who exceeds this access right or who would violate the grave (Ritti 2007, 606).
Finally, a third inscription is situated on the west wall, on the base of the crepidoma and thus above the entrance of the lower chamber. A candelabrum with nine branches is represented, below which are engraved three letters: the abbreviation of [eu] log [ia], which means ‘blessing’ (Fig. 4.5). Contrary to Ritti (2007, 606), we do not think that the candelabrum is a menorah, which has seven arms, but a hanoukkia, a ritual nine-armed candlestick used during the Jewish festival of the lights, Hanoucca (Ludwig 2004, 47). As for the ‘blessing’, it was until now unknown in Hierapolis, but is very frequent in Jewish inscriptions (Ritti 2007, 606). Neither the hanoukkia nor these three single letters can be dated, but it is known that the representation of the symbolic candelabrum is particularly common in the Greco-Roman world from the end of the 2nd century AD (Miranda 1999, 133).
Fig. 4.4. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. The two inscriptions on the south façade of the upper chamber of Tomb 163d (Photo by J.R. Brandt)
The use of the lower chamber of tomb 163d
When the subterranean chamber was discovered in 2001, the benches, but also areas under and between them, were packed with bones, which were more or less covered with soil (Anderson 2007) (Fig. 4.6). The outer edge of the benches and the centre of the east bench were covered by just one layer of scattered bones, but up against the walls, the deposits were 0.30 m thick. In addition, the floor, both under the benches and in the space between them (the ‘central space’), was covered with a 0.20–0.50 m thick layer of soil, also this was full of bones. The rocky floor itself did not carry any traces, in the shape of a pit or otherwise, of an ossuary, but a square slab of stone forming a step had been put by the entrance to make entry easier (Fig. 4.3). The Minimum Number of Individuals (MNI), calculated on the frequency of the preserved femurs (which gave the highest score), revealed that at least 293 people were represented in the lower chamber of the tomb.
Chronology
As it is often the case in collective graves, for several reasons it has not been an easy task to establish the chronology of the deposits. This is first of all due to the continuous reorganization of the deposits including datable objects and the mixture of the soils, but also the complex interweaving of skeletons, the absence of sediments, and thus stratigraphy in some areas. Radiocarbon analyses were taken of some selected articulated skeletons; because of poor bone conservation, only 13 samples gave a dating. They all came from skeletons on the south and north benches, although a skeleton (no. 31) overflows onto the east bench (Fig. 4.7).
According to these (2 sigma calibrated) the depositions range from 27 BC to 604 AD in date. As the purchase of the tomb dates to the 3rd century AD and as seven of the C14-dates reveal that the grave was still in use during the 6th century (skeletons nos. 4, 7, 6, 9, 18, 19, and 21), the Jewish ownership of the tomb could have been the longest one, lasting more than three centuries, subject to the chamber not being reused by others who, at the present state of research, have not yet been identified. Indeed, the C14-datings and the stratigraphic analysis which resulted from it demonstrate that the majority of the deposits date to this late phase. However, two skeletons (nos. 11 and 31), resting directly on the benches, are clearly previous to the second phase of use. To this early phase could also belong skeletons nos. 13, 14, and 29. As this last skeleton directly overlaid the skeletons nos. 15, 16, 17, and 128, these skeletons may also date to the same early phase. A few layers may belong to the 2nd century, confirmed by a coin dated to the reign of Marcus Aurelius found on the bottom of the central area of the tomb. Even so, the majority of bodies and bones contained in this central space were all deposited after this date. The soil layers of this second phase are rather mixed; in fact, some artefacts from the Augustan period have been found in layers above those with artefacts from the 3rd century. The reassembly of many fragments, coming from different areas under the benches, into more or less complete objects may demonstrate that the filling of the floor areas happened within the same periods of time, from the early to the last phases.
Fig. 4.5. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. Hanoukkia engraved above the lower chamber of Tomb 163d (Photo by J.R. Brandt).
Modes of burial: the primary deposits
Among the commingled bones, there were numerous articulated skeletons, in all 123. For our analysis it was first of all necessary to distinguish the primary deposits from the deposits in secondary position, which was done by observing the labile joints of the skeletons and their maintained anatomical logics. In some articulated segments, including only two or three bones, it was sometimes difficult or even impossible to determine with any certainty the nature of the deposit. In the end 67 skeletons were identified as primary deposits, 23 as hypothetical primary deposits, 7 deposits as in a secondary position and 24 as indeterminate (indet.). Their archaeothanatological analysis, which corresponds to the taphonomical study of the skeleton, allowed in the next instance to reconstitute the modes of burial and how the bodies and skeletons were managed (Duday 2009).
Fig. 4.6. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. Interior view of the inferior chamber in 2003 (Photo by T. Anderson; courtesy by the Missione archeologica italiana a Hierpolis in Frigia).
Fig. 4.7. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. Plan with the C14-dated skeletons (Drawing by CL).
The large presence of primary deposits demonstrated that the chamber was not used as an ossuary, but that the deceased were brought into the subterranean chamber as newly dead corpses. Found in every zone of the grave, many skeletons, as already observed above, were fully articulated, others preserved as anatomical bits and pieces, a mixed find situation which demonstrates that the depositions were not simultaneous and that the reorganization of the skeletons had been numerous in each phase of interment (Fig. 4.8). The great majority of the most complete skeletons lay on the south and north benches. In general, the individuals were deposited on their back, although 12 examples show that a deposition on the stomach was possible (Fig. 4.9). The position of the forearms was, most of the time, along the body or placed on the abdomen whereas the lower limbs were always fully extended, not bent or crossed. The depositions followed the orientation of the bench on or under which the individual was placed, but there was no standard orientation and some bodies were even arranged so that the head on one skeleton lay next to the toes of another. A westerly orientation with the head looking east dominated, best seen on the south bench, while on the north bench the orientation was more or less equally divided between west and east; on the east bench the orientations of the skeletons were north and south without a definite pattern. In the central space and under the south bench, the skeletons were more frequently oriented to the east, unlike under the north bench where a west orientation dominated; finally, under the east bench, all identified deceased were deposited with the head to the south.
Some skeletons showed some disturbances due to the decomposition of skeletons underlying new depositions, as, for example, the arm of skeleton no. 24 which fell into the rib cage of the underlying skeleton no. 25 when the thorax of this last skeleton collapsed under the weight of skeleton no. 24. These kinds of disturbances, as well as the shift of anatomical parts, from a taphonomical point of view, demonstrate well that the deposits of dead bodies could happen in a short period of time. Furthermore, the collapse of the body volumes (thoracic cage, gluteal masses) and the absence of unstable equilibria, as movement outside of the initial buried volume of the body, showed that all bodies decomposed into a void, meaning that even the bodies under the benches and in the central space were buried without a soil cover. The sediments in the tomb were thus not formed by human action, but by gradual infiltrations of fine soils over time after the moment of burial. As already mentioned, the disturbance of single bones or anatomical groups of bones was caused by the decomposition of the underlying skeletons. However, certain anomalies of some bone/joint positions and collapses as well as the observation of some lateral constraint effects indicate that the deceased, in many cases, were deposited in rigid containers. The impressive number of nails (5–9 cm long), but also of iron brackets carrying traces of oxidized wood, suggests that burials for some of the deceased were made in wooden coffins. At the same time, on the north bench, several skeletons presented taphonomical features which cannot be due to rigid containers, rather to soft ones, such as textiles or mats: the most convincing signs being legs straightened against the wall and/or strongly constricted shoulders.
Fig. 4.8. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. Plan of primary and secondary deposits: The nature of the deposits and their representativeness (Drawing by CL).
Deposits in secondary positions and reorganization of the chamber
Deposits in secondary positions, due to physical interventions and reorganizations after the decomposition of the body, can take several forms. The body can remain individualized, i.e. more or less maintaining an anatomical logic, or, on the contrary, it can appear as an osseous heap constituted of disarticulated bones.
Only seven individualized depositions were positively identified as being in secondary positions. Some of them were indeed squeezed too close to a wall to be compatible with an in situ decomposition of the body. Other secondary deposits testify to an obvious attempt to group the bones of a single skeleton, as, for example, the gathering of ribs or the piling of tibiae and fibulas belonging to the same individual. These deposits have been found in every part of the funeral chamber (Fig. 4.8). In addition to these secondary deposits should also be mentioned the case of a young individual (6–18 months), whose bones were pushed up against the doorstep of the central space. Finally, the cremated remains of an adult were found slightly scattered under the east bench, but as cremation is not a Jewish practice (Avni et al. 1994, 217), it is reasonable to assume that these remains belonged to the first phase of occupation of the tomb.
Dislocated bones in the form of osseous heaps constitute the absolute majority of the human remains of the lower chamber of tomb 163d. In light of the density and the complexity of these deposits, correspondence factor analyses have been developed in order to compare each bench and the central space (Fig. 4.10). They demonstrated some characteristics according to areas in the tomb. The diagram shows that long bones and girdles were common on the south and north benches, where a heap actually was found in the north-west corner. The pattern is very different on the east bench with many skulls piled up in the north-east and south-east corners of the tomb, whereas the lower limbs occupied the centre of the bench, where leg bones were heaped. Small bones (hands, feet and in a lesser quantity, vertebrae) are over-represented in the central space and were probably thrown out of the benches. As for the zones under the benches, they presented an over-representation of voluminous bones, which seem to have been put away to save room (Fig. 4.10).
Fig. 4.9. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. Plan of primary and secondary deposits: Position of the skeletons and the orientation of the heads (Drawing by CL).
Grave goods
More than 1,260 artefacts or fragments of artefacts were discovered in all parts of the chamber, albeit only 20% of them were discovered on the benches. The artefacts included 22 ceramic unguentaria, 18 glass flasks, two small cusps, three jars, five lamps, a bronze bottle, six coins, a mirror, four intaglios, seven earrings, two rings, three bullae and five small bells, 34 game pieces and at least five pins, seven needles, and three spindles. They were lying among both disarticulated bones and articulated skeletons. As already noted, the artefacts were widely reshuffled and commingled, in particular in the central space and under the benches where early material overlaid late objects, demonstrating well how the depositions had been disturbed already in Antiquity. It was in no way possible, therefore, to attribute one or more personal artefacts to one particular individual.
None of these artefacts carry a Jewish symbol. One hundred and five artefacts were dated, but, with the exception of five artefacts (a lamp, two unguentaria, a coin, and a gemstone), no object could be attributed with absolute certainty to the Jewish phase of the tomb’s lifetime, though this does not exclude the possibility that more objects really belonged to the late phase of tomb. It is certainly possible that some prestigious objects (as, for example, intaglios, precious alabastra, and coins) had been in circulation for a long period of time before they ended up in the tomb. Furthermore, some objects, either very generically dated, or badly preserved and very fragmented, could belong to the Jewish phase. Consequently, it is impossible to conclude firmly that there were no objects deposited during the Jewish phase, but a serious decrease in the deposition of objects compared with the early phase is observed. For some reason the vessels and lamps used during the funerary ceremonies and thus rendering them impure were not left inside the burial chamber. This conclusion seems well consistent with what took place in other Jewish tombs of the same time, where the deposits of goods decrease especially after the 3rd century AD.
Discussion in the local context: Hierapolis and Asia Minor
The Jewish ‘community’ of Hierapolis
The ancient texts and the inscriptions depict a certain vitality and stability of the Jewish communities in Asia Minor. Except for some local episodes of tension, the authorities and the local population maintained rather good relationships with the Jewish diaspora, which kept a strong Jewish identity (Trebilco 1991). The tolerance of the Romans, who granted the Jews of Asia Minor some privileges (Cohen 1999, 58), indeed guaranteed them the maintenance of the most important aspects of their identity.
Fig. 4.10. Hierapolis, North Necropolis. Correspondence analysis of chamber areas and anatomical segments (Drawing by CL).
Most of the knowledge about funerary customs of the Jews, who lived at Hierapolis, comes from the study of the corpus of 23 Jewish inscriptions studied by E. Miranda (1999), and in the analysis of one particular case by P. A. Harland (2006). Few inscriptions from Hierapolis explicitly refer to a ‘community’ or an ‘association’, so this convention of language rather included all people who identified themselves as Jewish in Hierapolis (Harland 2006, 223). The Jewish community of Hierapolis was quite large and inscriptions portray a quite well-assimilated group in the Hierapolitan society, both culturally and organizationally. No archaeological evidence of a synagogue has been found, but it seems that the Jewish community must have possessed archives (Trebilco, 1991, 257; Harland 2006, 227). The Jews who settled in the Lykos valley played an important role in trade (Şimşek 2006) and some of them belonged to the wealthy association of dyers (Verzone 1987, 116).
From a funerary point of view, the Jewish graves were not concentrated in one sector of the necropolis, but instead were mixed with pagan tombs: the Jewish community of Hierapolis, therefore, had no reserved funerary space. Indeed, in Asia Minor in general, it has not been demonstrated that public authorities reserved particular areas for the Jews; however, at Tlos in Lycia, a private benefactor, Ptolemaios son of Leukios, built a cemetery for the Jews of the city (Noy 1998, 81; Cohen 1999, 1–2).
In addition, the Jewish tombs in Hierapolis are similar to the pagan ones. The content of the inscriptions demonstrates that Jews often adopted local Greek names and they used the same customs in how to use and to protect the grave, as seen elsewhere in Asia Minor (Miranda 1999). With regard to the commemorative practices, it would seem that the Jewish inhabitants of Hierapolis could follow the Graeco-Roman rituals. At the turn of the 2nd century AD, for example, P. Aelius Glykon, both a Jew and a Roman citizen, with his wife Aurelia Amia, requested the guild of the carpet weavers that during two yearly Jewish festivals, their family sarcophagi should be crowned, a typical Graeco-Roman practice (Harland 2006). From Hierapolis are known four cases, a tomb and three sarcophagi, in which Jewish families purchased a burial from pagan Romans. The inscription on the tomb is damaged, but the inscriptions on the three sarcophagi are still legible; in none of the three cases was the original owner a Jew (Miranda 1999).
Burials and mortuary management in Ancient Asia Minor
In general, knowledge about burial customs and mortuary sequences are not analyzed in detail. Perishable containers are little known; sometimes, publications mention traces of wood and nails, suggesting the use of wood coffins, as in Attaleia, where the nails and wood residues were systematically discovered around the skeletons (Tosun 2009). But some scholars, referring to the small size of the burial chambers and the narrow and low openings of lower chambers, consider that it would have been difficult to insert a rigid container into them; consequently they judged the use of shrouds more likely (Tomasello 1991, 221; Spanu 2000, 172). Some rock-cut pillows on the benches, as, for example, in Elaiussa Sebaste, suggest that there were no rigid containers (Equini-Schneider 2003, 465), but their existence is, nevertheless, demonstrated in other chamber tombs. In tomb C128, in the North-East Necropolis of Hierapolis, on top of the skeletons, a lead blanket was discovered, which, combined with the discovery of numerous nails and wood fragments, certainly was the lid of a wooden coffin. With regard to soft containers, the only study, based on archaeothanatological methods, to confirm the use of shrouds in Asia Minor is the one on the late Roman necropolis of Porsuk (Blaizot 1999); the shrouds are highlighted by an extreme constriction of the bodies with, in particular, the internal rotation of the femorae. As for body position, the skeletons were generally buried on their back, with lower limbs extended, and, according to the site of Attaleia, in collective graves the bodies were deposited parallel to each other and to the walls of the grave (Tosun 2009, 196). Lastly, no particular orientation was favoured, as shown in the neighbouring site of Eudokias (Yalçinsoy and Atalay 2012, 226).
Most of the burial chambers have a limited size, which in one way or the other would have influenced the number of dead it was possible to bury in them. This observation raises the question on available space and on the deserved respect of the integrity of the first skeletons deposited in the tomb. Sometimes the management of the tomb remains faithful to the deceased’s wishes. At Limyra, the excavation of a two-bench-chamber brought to light a single skeleton laid out on the right bench, while nine skeletons rested on the left one (Blakolmer 1989). This was interpreted as a sign of respect for the owner’s wish not to see a body placed above him, a situation frequently signalled in tomb inscriptions (Henry 2003, 19). However, when from the end of the Hellenistic period the tombs were opened for wider access it was not possible to secure an undisturbed, perpetual rest for the original owner of the tomb. It became clear that the areas reserved for the dead could only be for a short period of time and that the reoccupation of the burial benches was perfectly acceptable. Therefore, more than the re-allocation of the bodies, it was, as shown in inscriptions, the non-authorized burials that people tried to avoid (Schweyer 2002, 40–1). Furthermore, the inalienability of the grave is limited to the conditions of use imposed by the founder (de Visscher 1963, 72), conditions which most often ended after her/his line of heirs had died out or started a new family tomb, at which point the original tomb could be put up for sale. Thus, when the occupation of a burial place by the original families ends, monumental tombs and sarcophagi are frequently reused by others (Ritti 2006, 44). The time between two occupations of a tomb could be rather short (Schweyer 2002, 59) and the periods of re-use, as documented by grave goods, inscriptions, and C14-dates of the buried skeletons, could be many, over a long period of time (Cavallier 2003, 207; Zoroğlu 2012, 36; see also Korkut and Uygun, this volume). However, the question of the legality of these re-uses arose in some cases. If some new owners left the name of the original owner as a sign of respect for him/her, others erased it (Ritti 2004, 566–9). Besides, from the 3rd century AD onwards, the custom of giving precise indications on the use of the tombs and of the transmission of the tomb disappeared, most likely because lots of old tombs were used more or less legally (Ritti 2004, 456). After the 4th century AD at Hierapolis, perhaps after the devastating earthquake which hit the city (presumably) in the 360s, many family sarcophagi and tombs may have gone out of use and the control of the legal situation of tombs may no longer have been considered a priority (Ritti 2004, 567). So, if nobody maintained the tomb, one may question in the case of recorded later deposits, if someone had taken advantage of the less strict controls of burials and used the tomb illegally, i.e. contrary to the original legal restrictions.
In modern scholarly literature few, if any, examples can be cited on the management of the deceased after burial, but many situations can be observed in the tombs themselves. In a Hellenistic subterranean tomb in Kelenderis, for example, an adult and a child were heaped together on either side of the entrance to the tomb (Zoroğlu 2012). At Patara seven skulls were stored in a rock-cut niche (İskan and Çevik 1995). The skulls could be grouped in a corner of the tomb (Yalçınsoy and Atalay, 2012, 36), or, as again at Patara, the bones and objects were simply pushed to the back of the benches (İskan and Çevik 1995). In some cases, containers are used for collecting bones. At Iasos, a secondary deposit in an amphora has been attested (Tomasello 1991, 219), but most often, stone containers, osteothekai, are mentioned for this purpose. The bones, after decomposition, could also be stored under the benches or in a pit cut in the floor. In addition, the discovery of nails, brackets, and traces of wood indicates the existence of wooden boxes used to store the bones.
Concluding remarks
On funerary gestures
The archaeothanatological analysis of the articulated skeletons has highlighted two modes of burial in the tomb 163d: in rigid and wooden containers and in soft ones (shroud or mat). These are both used by the Romans in Asia Minor and by the Jews in Palestine, the latter influenced by the Egyptians as a substitute for coffins (Hachlili 2005, 515). The position of the majority of the deceased in tomb 163d follows the standard pattern, on the back with legs and arms extended, or, in some cases, with the arms placed on the abdomen, a customary position known from other places both in Asia Minor and Palestine. However, in tomb 163d some were deposited on the stomach, in a position that is not mentioned, as far as we know, in publications on Jewish or micro-Asiatic graves.
No individualized and complete collection of bones was observed in tomb 163d, even if osteothekai, whose function could be the same as the ossilegia one, are widespread in Asia Minor (Thomas 1999; Thomas and Içten 2007). According to the taphonomic analysis no body with a preserved individuality was found in a secondary deposit in a wooden chest or in any other kind of perishable container. In the floor of the tomb there is no common pit either, this space being gradually filled during the Jewish phase with bodies as much as with dislocated bones. The south and north benches were the most favoured to receive primary depositions (which are later and more complete than the skeletons in other areas), while on the east bench, several primary deposits were removed before some voluminous bones were replaced there. A similar situation was also found at Tiberias, in Israel. A subterranean chamber of a Jewish mausoleum, built in the late 1st or 2nd century AD, contained several gradually piled bodies showing that they were pushed back to make space for new deposits, while another area contained both primary deposits and collected bones (Vitto 2008b).
The example of the grave 163d confirms the loss of importance of individuality. In the Jewish religion, resurrection is collective and the whole Jewish people will resurrect (Oberhänsli-Widmer 1998, 78), so it may, therefore, be that for the Jews keeping his/her individuality was not a necessary condition to resurrect, as the resurrection is anyhow assured. For instance, although the anthropological study of skeletal remains contained in ossilegium are not frequent (Kancel 2009, 291), the few anthropological studies published for Jerusalem and Jericho show that 48% of the ossuaries contain an individual, 37% contain two or three and two ossuaries will contain up to eight and 11 individuals (Kancel 2009, 291–2). In other cases, some bones were duplicated or were missing (Arensburg and Smith data in Hachlili and Killebrew 1999). Even when individuality seems to be a fundamental concept in the Second Temple period, half of the ossuaries include more than one individual and the care to collect the bones seems relative, since some bones are missing. To move bones has then as priority to respond to practical considerations concerning the management of the funeral chamber over a long time. The skeletons could remain ‘abandoned’ and incomplete, as in the tomb 163d. The Jews from diasporas could here have been influenced in their belief by Graeco-Roman conceptions of death (Stern 2013, 278), where the integrity of the body is not debated.
However, in order to deepen our understanding of the modes of burial and the management of human remains after decomposition in Jewish communities, more precise comparisons with the local groups are necessary. Future excavations of graves shall have to go into more detail, for example, making systematic analyses of perishable containers of skeletons, establishing chronological types, as well as cross-checking information on containers, position, and orientation with the biological data. It is not enough to find non-looted tombs, the research also srequires adequate methods of excavation and analysis.
On the purchase of the grave and the management of the first occupants’ remains
The information yielded by grave 163d is in particular interesting with regard to the way the Jewish group chose to manage the bones of the first occupiers, for whom there is no evidence to indicate that they were Jewish. According to the stratigraphic data, when the Jewish group took over the tomb, in the 3rd century AD, they cleared the benches. Yet, radiocarbon dates of the skeletons combined with the date of tomb artefacts suggest that they left in situ some of the original occupiers of the tomb. In particular, some discreet remains of primary deposits (composed of a small set of articulated bones, as, for example, a few ribs) were found directly on the benches and could well have belonged to the first group. In some cases, the skeletons lying up against the walls (for example, skeleton no. 31) were simply less easily accessible. Likewise many unguentaria from the Augustan period were found in the corners of the chamber, on the benches, as if pushed to the side. In other cases, nevertheless, the deceased were close to the edge of the benches and were a priori already skeletonized (for example, skeleton no. 11; for the use of the term, see Duday and Guillon 2006). To sum up, the Jewish group made the choice not to clear the benches systematically. The north bench showed only few vestiges from the first phase: it was the most thoroughly cleaned bench. In the cleaning process many artefacts (datable from the Augustan period to the 3rd century AD) were placed, together with the bones, under the benches or in the central space. Consequently, the cleaning was certainly gradual, depending on the arrival of new corpses; some artefacts from the early phase were found above some burials belonging to the Jewish phase. Leaving in the tomb the bones of the previous owners together with their belongings, even if shuffled about, is coherent with the Roman burial system, which looks upon the grave as a locus religiosus. Throwing the bones outside would have been a criminal act according to the Imperial legislation (de Visscher 1963, 54; Ritti 2004, 527).
Identities and access to the grave
The management of the skeletons of the previous owners, as indicated by the second inscription, have been caused by an enlargement and change of funerary access to the tomb, whereby the depositions increased notably, bringing the total minimum number of individuals identified to 293. As expected for a family tomb, the depositions include men, women, and children. Even during the second phase of occupation of the grave it is impossible to know if the tomb only hosted Jews. Traditionally it is believed that a non-Jew could not be buried in a Jewish tomb (Davies 1999, 108; Rutgers 1995); yet excavations in Jerusalem of some tombs carrying non-Jewish names may challenge this idea (Avni et al. 1994, 214). However, in most cases, these names are suspected to belong to ‘Gentiles’ who were supportive of the Jewish religion.
In any case, neither the rabbinical laws nor Semahot contain rules separating Jews and non-Jews. In Aceldama, a grave presented an opposite situation to that of tomb 163d at Hierapolis. The tomb was owned by the ‘Gentiles’ who reused the grave in late Antiquity and did not disturb the vestiges of the earlier, late Second Temple period. They were identified as ‘Gentiles’ because on one hand, they practised cremation; the burnt and charred bone remains were placed in a Second Temple-period ossuary (which was the only disturbance of the grave), while on the other hand, jewellery and coins were deposited with the deceased. Since archaeologists balk at interpreting a burial as a Jewish one when it contains some jewels and coins, it is argued that these objects belonged to the ‘Gentiles’ (Avni et al. 1994).
The excavation and analysis of the lower chamber of tomb 163d at Hierapolis has, despite three major difficulties (firstly, a clear distinction between the tomb’s two phases of use; secondly, the assertion that the tomb was not reused after the occupation by the Jewish family; thirdly, the lack of comparable, published material from Hierapolis), brought forward new evidence on funerary gestures, especially on modalities of tomb purchase and management of a collective tomb during late Antiquity and the proto-Byzantine period. This study highlights that a Jewish group could accept a great proximity between pagans and Jews in terms of mortuary management. In that sense, the data from the tomb 163d are in accordance with and complement the epigraphic context which testifies to the not insignificant participation of Jews in the organization and evolution of the funerary landscape of Hierapolis.
Acknowledgments
The authors thank the Maison des Sciences de l’Homme d’Aquitaine and the Région Aquitaine, which funded the present research works. They are also grateful to Prof. Francesco D’Andria, to have entrusted them the responsibility of the excavation of several funeral structures in Hierapolis. They express also their gratitude to the different specialists who graciously studied the objects discovered in tomb 163d. Finally, the authors thank sincerely the editors of this volume, whose Thanatos project has provided precious support, at many levels, to the study of tomb 163d.
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