Summary
Scholars have long highlighted the importance of water for rituals in Greek sanctuaries, but little is known about when and how it was used in practice. Considering the importance attributed to water in rituals at Greek sanctuaries, this article aims to explore water as a purificatory agent for humans and things and as an offering, pure or water mixed with wine, to the gods in the form of libations. Throughout the paper we argue that these activities were located on a spectrum from mundane to religious and can be viewed within a “spatio-temporal” framework where they functioned as visual cues in order to structure activities. To achieve this, we closely and critically examine the empirical material, epigraphic and literary, supported by archaeological and iconographic evidence.
1. Introduction
Scholars have long highlighted the importance of water for rituals in Greek sanctuaries,[1] in particular for ritual purifications and healing.[2] While water was certainly important for such rituals, previous studies have been based on limited data, and in-depth analyses of the material are mostly lacking. Moreover, several other ritual activities could also require water. This article explores how, where, and when water was used for ritual purposes in Archaic-Hellenistic Greek sanctuaries, focusing on the purification of humans and things as well as libations. It is argued that these activities were located on a spectrum from mundane to religious. Purification of worshippers further adhered to a “spatio-temporal” framework, progressing from the domestic to the divine sphere. For cleaning things and keeping good order in sanctuaries, the concept of eukosmia added a religious dimension to otherwise mundane acts. Purifications and libations could further constitute visual cues to structure ritual enactment and participation by onlookers at the sanctuary. These insights are the result of a close and critical examination of the empirical material, focusing mainly on epigraphy and literature.
It is, however, important to acknowledge that water was not only used in ritual activities.[3] In fact, current evidence suggests that the vast majority of water resources at sanctuaries were needed for visitors and animals, to drink, prepare food, wash, clean buildings and items, as well as water plants. Construction would also require large volumes of water, often for extended periods of time.[4] Such uses are important to note as there is little evidence that the Greeks differentiated between “sacred” and “profane” water, and only rarely was water from a specific source reserved for ritual or utilitarian usage.[5] Furthermore, activities that we perceive as ritual or utilitarian from our etic perspective were integrated in a range of tasks at sanctuaries and physically interwoven through the water infrastructure. Thus, while ritual and utilitarian activities can be perceptually separated, it is impossible to ignore how they affected each other. We therefore hold that there was a spectrum from mundane to religious usage of water, rather than a dichotomy of sacred and not sacred. In this article we explore the sacred end of the spectrum.
2. Method and Methodological Concerns
Studying the ritual use of water in Greek sanctuaries presents a number of challenges, from what evidence has shaped our knowledge, to how modern perceptions have influenced interpretations. These challenges span a wide range of fields. Importantly, this study differs from previous works through its emphasis on the evidence, here based on up-to-date and extensive searches of testimonia in order to form a large body of material, which could be used to identify what evidence we actually have, rather than reconstructing practices based on limited testimonies.[6] Furthermore, we have approached activities using water without notions of an embodied sacredness of water in itself, rather seeing water as a medium for different activities at the sanctuary. One important concept we apply is that of eukosmia, where a clean and appealing sanctuary constituted a physical mirror of good world order.[7] Because of this, even though individual acts of cleaning were not necessarily religiously charged in themselves, they can be viewed as religiously significant within their greater context.
One consequence of our critical review is that some evidence, often viewed as central, takes a subordinate role. For example, in vase depictions showing water usage in a religious setting it is usually impossible to ascertain the media used or spatially locate events in a specific type of context, or ritual zone at a sanctuary, making them unreliable sources for specifically studying the use of water at sanctuaries.[8]
The literary and epigraphic material offers numerous challenges, in terms of chronology, what was intended to be communicated by the texts, and how scholars have used them. In this article the material from the Archaic to Hellenistic period is considered together rather than in shorter time spans. While this is problematic since practices changed over time,[9] looking at the material in more focused periods creates other issues due to the small number of testimonies. The literary material is also Athenocentric, making it easy to misinterpret regional practices as applicable to the wider Greek world. Moreover, tragedies have often been given primacy because of their interest in pollution and miasma.[10] We follow Ian Ruffell’s view of Greek tragedies as a form of fiction.[11] Similarly to how vase paintings are viewed, he argues, tragedies are not making truth claims about the real world.[12] Comparable issues exist with other genres. In any fictive work, though, enough of the setting of the story must be intelligible to the viewers for the imaginative plot to make sense.
The here relevant epigraphic evidence is dominated by ritual norms, as defined by Jan-Mathieu Carbon and Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge.[13] While uniquely informative in terms of ritual practices, they offer highly localized, often fragmentary evidence. They contain specific instructions while simultaneously presupposing a profound understanding of the practices at the specific site, often leaving hints about rituals without providing central information.[14] Inventories form another important source as they list ritual paraphernalia, providing indirect evidence about practices including those using water utensils. It has been proposed that inventories existed in all Greek cults, but that inscribing them on stone occurred primarily at Attica, Delos, and Didyma.[15] The extant lists could be organized in different ways. Tullia Linders has shown that the Brauronia inventories follow the material from which the objects are made.[16] In other cases, the order reflects spatial distribution in the sanctuary, for example per building and room.[17] Importantly for our purpose, in some cases, objects stored together seem to reflect functional assemblages.[18]
The use of things registered in inventories is less discussed. Often lists have been viewed as enumerating objects stored or on display.[19] However, there is evidence to the contrary as gifts and rites could be intertwined.[20] Other objects are listed as broken or in need of repair, presumably because they have been in use,[21] and some items, such as oil, can hardly have been intended for perpetual display.[22] Finally, the use of objects in inventories would contribute to the need for these records.
In terms of archaeological material, perirrhanteria and louteria form a particularly important yet complicated body of evidence due to the centrality of purification. The primary methodological challenge is how to archaeologically distinguish between these types of vessels, both of which resemble flat bird baths on pedestals or stands. Overall, it is held that perirrhanteria were used for ritual activities, purification in particular, while louteria were used for utilitarian tasks.[23] The shape of the two is, however, simultaneously so varied within the types and so similar between the two categories that a convincing physical differentiation cannot be found, especially for fragments. Overall, it is better to think about these objects as defined by their function and context, not their shape. Finally, the lack of, for example, perirrhanteria at a sanctuary does not mean that purifications were not performed, as other vessels could have been used. Overall, we assume that similar basic cultic needs existed at all sanctuaries.
Another issue is the degree to which the same practices were observed in sanctuaries as domestic contexts, as much of the literary evidence portrays household settings. Christine Sourvinou-Inwood argued in 1988 that private religion was differentiated from state cults only in scale, with the individual being the basic cult unit.[24] This would indicate that domestic and sanctuary contexts were similar in a religious sense. In contrast to this, Christopher Faraone argued in 2009 that family and household worship was “both quantitatively smaller than and qualitatively different from the cult of the city or the neighborhood”, e.g., through the replacement of animal sacrifices with vegetarian ones.[25] Janett Morgan held that in domestic contexts boundaries could be created by ritual behaviour rather than physical demarcations.[26] Whichever view one takes, there were important differences between rituals at sanctuaries and other contexts, in particular for purification. The lack of a precinct at houses ensured that purification at a set border could not be performed in the same sense as at a sanctuary.[27] It is also unclear to which degree other rules, e.g. abstinences, periods of waiting, and more specific cult regulations were relevant in domestic cult.
3. Terminology
The terminology, or rather words,[28] relevant for religiously significant water usage at Greek sanctuaries can primarily be divided into three categories: acts, types of water, and implements. These words, in turn, were used in various settings. Firstly, worshippers and sacrificial animals had to be pure when approaching and entering a sanctuary. Secondly, various purifications inside the sanctuary required water, for example during sacrifices. Thirdly, water was used for some activities not connected to purity, such as libations. However, water was not the only means to purify in Greek sanctuaries, and other media such as fire, animal blood and sulphur are also attested.[29] Below follows a brief overview of the most relevant terms from texts dating from before the first century CE, in order to make the following analysis more comprehensible.
The necessity of worshippers to be clean or pure when interacting with the divine, or entering the sacred precinct, is well attested in the textual evidence.[30] In general worshippers were expected to be clean, or pure, expressed as being καθαρός,[31] or ἁγνός.[32] The need for purity could also be phrased in a negative sense as avoiding to be unwashed, ἄνιπτος.[33] In most cases the requirements for being clean or pure was implicit, but sometimes the cause of impurity is spelled out[34] (e.g. murder,[35] sex[36] and death[37]), as well as the method needed to rectify this.[38] Overall, the ways in which purity was achieved, and the associated terminology, is complex and the terms are often combined.[39]
For general purification, ἁγνεύω,[40] ἁγνίζω,[41] and καθαίρω[42] were often used. The regulations found at sanctuaries stating that the worshipper must be pure from various miasmata are numerous, but a limited number date to before the second century BCE.[43] Common words used for purifications with water are λούω[44] and νίζω,[45] while χερνίπτομαι[46] and περιρραίνω[47] as well as ἐπιρραίνω[48] and περιαγνίζω[49] have more specialized meanings.
The first general term, ἁγνεύω, is found in a Pythagorean fragment regarding how to approach the gods, specifying various forms of purification presumably using water: καθαρμός, λουτρόν, περιρραντήριον.[50] Epigraphically, ἁγνεύω is in some cases attested with the specification λούω (to wash), strengthening the connection to water.[51] Ἁγνίζω occurs in Euripides’ Electra as Orestes ascertains that he had been cleansed through a bath in a river, making further purification unnecessary.[52] Finally, καθαίρω is used for purifications, generally in the broader sense to purify the sanctuary or on an occasion out of the ordinary, whereas to be καθαρός is used for the rules applying to all those wanting to enter the sanctuary.[53] To purify could also be expressed as “to perform a” καθαρμός.[54] For example, in an exchange in “Iphigenia in Tauris” the protagonist is asked if she should use water from the spring (πηγή) or sea for the καθαρμός.[55]
The terms connected directly to water are of greater interest here. Given the meaning of λούω, to wash, or in medium diathesis, to bathe or to wash oneself, it is assumed to have been performed with water even when the medium is unspecified.[56] Moreover, the verb is above all used in the aorist participle, λουσάμεν-, indicating that the action was completed.[57] In some instances, λούω was also used for initiations.[58]
The word νίζω, and the variant ἀπονίζω,[59] are also connected to the use of water when denoting purifications. Yet νίζω could also use blood, usually in purifications after a murder.[60] In the “Iliad”, the word is used for washing cups and hands with water before libations and prayers.[61] The form ἀπονίζω, used in the medium, could signify to wash off from oneself, a graphic description of how a miasma might have been perceived.[62]
Several of these actions could also be used to wash or purify objects. For buildings we find κατανίζω, to wash well.[63] For statues, the word λούω seems to have been used, and possibly also πλύνω as suggested by the Plynteria festival.[64] Additionally, the verb πλύνω (or fortified, ἐκπλύνω or ἀποπλύνω) could be used for the cleaning of the entrails of sacrificial animals, or the altar after the wrong sacrifice had been offered.[65] In these cases, however, the acts seem to have been more utilitarian in character.
The more specialized terms for purification were usually reserved for human use.[66] Χερνίπτομαι is attested only a small number of times and usually interpreted as purifying the hands, based on its etymology. Yet, at least in one instance, a tragedy, χερνίπτομαι is used for the hair on an intended human sacrifice.[67] In this case the act probably symbolized the dedication of the victim to the god. Furthermore, περιρραίνω[68] was the term used for sprinkling, together with related terms such as ἐπιρραίνω[69] and περιαγνίζω.[70] Importantly, as has been noted by Cole, the Hippocratic author of De Morbo Sacro uses the middle voice, περιρραίνεσθαι, indicating that the worshipper sprinkle him- or herself around.[71] These words are often connected with sanctuaries[72] and sacrifices,[73] and twice water (ὕδωρ) is specified as the medium.[74] In other cases the water can be referred to as χέρνιψ[75] and ἀπόβαμμα.[76] Notably, χέρνιψ occurs as the medium for περιρραίνω, showing that it was not limited to the washing of hands but could also be used in other contexts.[77]
Several objects for containing water were connected to purifications. Of these περιρραντήρια (related to περιρραίνω) are well attested, in particular in inscriptions.[78] Overall, the object is associated with borders, both for sanctuaries[79] and semi-sacred spaces such as agorai.[80] Corresponding terms also existed for χερνίπτομαι and χέρνιψ: χειρόνιπτρον[81] χερνιβεῖον[82] and χέρνιβον.[83] Pimpl argued that this was a term associated with a function and spatial location in the sanctuary rather than a physical form.[84] For the washing of the feet, a vessel known as ποδανιπτήρ (or ποδάνιπτρον) existed.[85] Χέρνιβον and ποδανιπτήρ, and to some degree περιρραντήρια, occur close to each other in inventory lists, possibly implying that they were physically stored close to each other, and thereby used together, either at sacrifices or at dining; in any case objects recorded as broken suggest that these gifts had been put to use.[86] But importantly, not only specialized vessels were used in the cult. Ὑδρίαι are frequently depicted in procession and sacrificial scenes on vases, as well as attested in sanctuary inventories, although they did not necessarily contain water, despite their name.[87] The same can be said about οἰνοχόαι which may have contained wine or wine mixed with water.[88] Λέβητες holding χέρνιψ are attested.[89] Furthermore, λουτήρια (including associated variations)[90] and ὑδράνᾱ also appear in the epigraphic material.[91]
Finally, libations were primarily described with two terms: σπένδω (with the noun σπονδή)[92] and χέω (and the noun χοή),[93] although other words, such as ἐγχέω,[94] λείβω,[95] and προχέω[96] were also used. Scholars have argued for a distinction between σπένδω and χέω, where for the former a small amount, usually wine, was poured in the name of the Olympians, while a full vessel of e.g. milk or honey for the latter in the name of chthonian deities and tomb cult.[97] Occasionally the terms are combined.[98]
The terms for religiously charged usages of water in association with Greek sanctuaries are thus numerous, diverse, and partly overlapping. Notably, they did not form a set ritual terminology with specific, technical, meanings and most of the terms were used in non-sanctuary contexts as well. We have therefore been closely concerned with the context of each text in our interpretation.
4. Ritual Uses of Water at Sanctuaries
Having established that a contextual reading is essential, the empirical material can be approached. Starting with purification of humans, we move from preliminary rituals at home, to rituals upon arriving at the sanctuary and finally inside the sacred precinct. After this we turn to the purification of animals and things such as altars, images, and structures. In doing so we focus on the different ways water was used for cleansing with regard to space, time, and purpose, including where on the spectrum from mundane to religious this took place. Following purifications, we turn to another ritual use of water: libations. Throughout, we investigate how water was used to structure ritual activity by involving the participants and creating visual cues.
4.1 Purifying Humans
Scholars have long stressed that purifications were performed before entering a sacred precinct or performing religious rituals.[99] In the words of Andrej and Ivana Petrovic, purity “was perceived as an elementary prerequisite for successful communication with the divine”.[100] How and where this was done has, however, received less attention. In our material the specifics of the purification are rarely mentioned, while in a number of cases the actions can be spatially anchored in, and in relation to, sanctuaries, particularly at the entrance of a sacred space and at altars, but also at temples.[101]
A number of passages are informative concerning how purifications were performed in general, without providing a temporal or spatial fix. For example, in a Pythagorean fragment it is said that “Purity [ἁγνεία] is obtained by purifications [καθαρμοί], ablutions [λουτρά], lustrations [περιρραντήρια], and by remaining uncontaminated [καθαρεύω] by death, birth, and all pollution”.[102] In another case, a passage by Plato concerning popular healings and purifications, we read that baths [λουτρά] and sprinklings [περιρράνσεις] make a man pure in body [σῶμα] and soul [ψυχή].[103] This points to a notion that purity of body, i.e. physical cleanliness, and purity of the soul were connected in ancient Greece.[104] If this notion is correct, it would fit the spatio-temporal framework, as shown below, moving from washing at home to sprinkling at the entrance of the sacred precinct, while simultaneously moving along the spectrum of activities from mundane to ritual as one approached the sanctuary, being increasingly concerned with purity as a cognitive notion and less with the physical aspect of it.
As will be shown below, achieving the purity needed to visit a sanctuary was a process rather than a single event. How to purify varied geographically, chronologically, and according to different miasmata, as well as what type of communication with the deity was sought. Certain forms of miasma, e.g. from death, sex and birth, required both a period of waiting and purification before arriving.[105] For instance, from the first century BCE, at the Metroon at Maionia, worshippers were required to keep pure (ἁγνεύω) from different pollutions for a varying number of days, as well as to wash off (λούω) from these.[106] The aorist form λουσάμενον suggests that the washing was to be made well before entering the precinct. Similar instructions are known from, for example, the sanctuary of Athena Nikephoros in Pergamon where worshippers were to be pure, using the term hagneuô, from contact with various sources of pollution or miasma, including sex, birth, and death before entering – either by avoiding them, washing them off, or waiting for a time period before entering in addition to washing them off. In this case two actions involving water are mentioned: louô and perirrhainô, where the former entails the washing off before approaching the sanctuary, and the latter is the sprinkling at the gate of the sanctuary.[107] The place where the worshippers were to wash (λούω) is not stated, but the time to wait and the washing are given as a set action before which they may not enter the area, emendated as ἱερόν.[108] This suggests that it was done before leaving the home. Several other inscriptions testify to similar practices.[109] For a parallel in the literature, as early as 430 BCE Herodotus stipulated that worshippers should not enter sanctuaries unwashed (ἄλουτος) from sexual activities.[110] Comparably, in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata Myrrhine rejects her husband’s sexual invitations saying that she would no longer be pure (ἁγνή), preventing her from going back to the Acropolis. He then promptly answers that she could wash (λούω) at the Klepsydra fountain. Here the act of washing after sex follows the patterns seen in ritual norms.[111]
Overall, the passing of time, usually a number of days, is often combined with louô. The word furthermore suggests that the act involved a thorough washing rather than a symbolic act.[112] This is supported by some inscriptions where louô is specified as over the head (κατὰ κεφαλῆς), or on the head (κατὰ κεφαλήν or λουσάμενοι κατακέφαλα), indicating a more thorough cleansing or purification.[113]
Notably, in cases where a period of waiting was required, it is not specified if the washing marked the beginning or the end of the abstinence. Furthermore, the compact nature of the inscriptions leaves it to us to interpret if the washing pertained to all the mentioned miasmata or just the last one in the row. For some examples it is not clear whether some miasmata would require only an abstinence of a certain number of days, or both a washing off and the period of abstinence.[114] In some cases, a chronological order can be suggested, assuming that the miasma is connected to the removal of bodily fluids. Based on this it could be argued that the purificatory washing took place immediately after contact with the miasmata (e.g. sex) or later, e.g. after birth, as the mother bleeds for some time following this.[115] While the purification performed at home was part of a ritual preparation, it was also concerned with physical matter, including dirt, e.g. dust, mud and sweat. This connects to the concept of eukosmia, the need to keep sanctuaries in good order,[116] or for humans to keep clean and tidy. As such, the purification at home commenced the spatio-temporal movement from the domestic sphere towards the sanctuary.
In a city, wealthy people may have had access to water for the louô at home. Less well-off individuals, probably the vast majority, would have had to rely on the public water supply. In these cases, they may have brought water to a private setting, or tried to wash at the fountains. Iconographic evidence strengthens the notion that some washing was done at home. On one vase, a young boy is shown cleaning using a basin with the traditional wreath of the Anthesteria lying beside him; the scene has therefore been interpreted as the ritual washing before partaking in the festival.[117]
Ritual purification before the sanctuary could also be performed without the presence of a specific pre-existing miasma. There are several examples of this from domestic contexts and presumably the same logic could be applied for sanctuaries. In Euripides Electra (790–796), Orestes had to be purified through a bath (λουτρόν) without any specific miasma being mentioned, in order to approach the altar and the chernips there. However, he claimed that this was not needed because he had already cleaned (ἁγνίζω) himself through a pure bath (καθαρὸν λουτρόν) in a river. The purification before setting out for ritual activities had thus already been performed. This is also the case in the Argonautica, where Artemis bathes (λούω) in a river before travelling to a sacrifice, despite being unable to be impure in terms of miasmata.[118] She must therefore be removing physical dirt and this presumably mirrors regular human behaviour before religious activities. Overall, washing without specific pre-existing miasmata strengthens the notion that the removal of physical dirt was as important as ritual purity at the beginning of the spatio-temporal framework. This is further supported by the use of fresh clothes in tandem with the cleaning. For example, in the “Odyssey”, Penelope is to bathe and put on clean clothes before praying to the gods, and Alcestis in Euripides’ homonymous play first washes (λούω), then dresses, and finally prays at the goddess’s altar.[119]
Thus, the initial washing was performed outside the sanctuary, and involved both becoming physically clean and pure as in removing miasmata. If applying the concept of a spectrum of ritual impact, the water usage at home was a starting point for approaching the divine, the physical washing being an important component of it. The evidence suggests that this first purification constituted a relatively thorough cleaning, to rid oneself of any specific miasma or to ensure general purity, while also aiming to ensure physical cleanliness. Since this was done before leaving the home it was performed in private, as a personal act of piety, and up to the conscience of the individual.
On the way to the sanctuary, further, previously unrecognized, intermediate purifications could be performed.[120] These were carried out after the washing at home, but before purifications at the entrance of a sanctuary, and without replacing these. In Euripides’ Ion the verb ἀφυδραίνω was used to describe how the inhabitants of Delphi should purify in the Kastalia before approaching the temple.[121] Notably, this spring is located ca. 270 metres from the precinct of Apollo. This purification therefore appears to be distinct from both the thorough washing (λούω) before setting out and the purification immediately by the entrance of the sacred precinct. Another example of a spatially and conceptually intermediate purification may be attested in Aristophanes, where a man is washed (λούω) in the sea on the way to the sanctuary of Asklepios in Piraeus.[122] Intermediate cleanings could perhaps also take place in close proximity to the precinct. At the sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidauros, an iama from ca. 350 BCE testifies to the presence of a fountain (κράνα) just outside the sacred precinct (ἱερόν), in which a newborn child miraculously washed (λούω) himself.[123] Similar water supply structures are known close to a number of other sacred precincts.[124] In contrast to this, a few cases are known where washing (λούω and πλύνω) at fountains in or near a sacred precinct was explicitly forbidden,[125] although these prohibitions are more likely an indication of the ubiquity of this occurrence than a general practice not to wash in fountains.
These intermediate purifications are important as they differed both from those at home and those performed at the entrance of a precinct before going in. Spatially, they take place in a public sphere, but usually away from the eyes of worshippers and officials in the sanctuary. As such they were located in a zone belonging neither to the private, nor to the god. Functionally intermediate purifications may primarily have been aimed to remove physical dirt that had accumulated on the way to the sanctuary.[126] This may explain why in some cases they seem to have taken place near the sanctuary entrance, ensuring that little or no more dirt would be accumulated before entering the site. At the same time, in terms of religious needs, intermediate purifications presumably also contributed to further ensuring ritual purity. There is thus both a spatial and conceptual difference between intermediate purifications and those taking place at home or at the entrance of the sacred precinct.
Upon crossing the limits of the sacred precinct, further purifications were performed. It has repeatedly been argued that the most frequent rite involving water at Greek sanctuaries was sprinkling from a perirrhanterion at the entrance.[127] This sprinkling was performed in full sight of all about to enter, and thus comprised a clear visual marker of who was pure enough to step in, and thereby who belonged to the group, as noted by Susan Cole.[128] The amount of water needed was presumably small and, besides the purificatory function, the importance lay in the visual enactment of sprinkling.[129] The most common perception of how this act was performed is that worshippers dipped their right hand in the basin and then sprinkled water around his or her body, but no source describes the act.[130] In fact, ritual norms rarely specify how or where sprinkling would have been conducted, and in literary sources it occurs only a handful of times.[131]
Ginouvès has argued that a whisk was occasionally used, based on iconographic evidence.[132] In further support of this, a branch is visible in a perirrhanterion on a funerary wall painting at the entrance of the Hellenistic tomb of Lyson and Kallikes north-west of Pella.[133] Comparably, in Theocritus’ “Idylls” a young branch (θαλλός) is used for sprinkling in a domestic context.[134] The use of a branch would have made it easier to sprinkle, and could have highlighted the visual impression. This would have been especially important at larger sanctuaries and during festivals, when plenty of onlookers would have been present.
The most commonly cited evidence for purification at the entrance is the Hippocratic text De Morbo Sacro (4.55–60).[135] In this it is stated that “we ourselves fix boundaries to the sanctuaries [ἱερά] and precincts [τεμένη] of the gods, so that nobody may cross them unless he be pure [ἁγνεύω]; and when we enter we sprinkle [περιρραίνω] ourselves, not as defiling ourselves thereby, but to wash [ἀφαγνίζω] away any pollution we may have already contracted”.[136] The location of perirrhanteria is also suggested by a Delian decree where it is stipulated that “[- - - Whoever] leads [- - -] or pigs or cattle within the lustral basins not for the purpose of sacrifice, they shall be liable to imprecations and shall be fined […]”.[137] As these perirrhanteria apparently formed a demarcation, it seems likely that they were located at the entrance or limit of the sacred precinct, rather than further in towards the altar or temple. The same notion of perirrhanteria as representing the border of the sacred precinct may be seen in a passage by Theoprastus, who writes that at the cult of Zeus at Lykaion those “responsible for the blood of a friend” were kept out from the sacrifices by being excluded from using perirrhanteria. This suggests that the perirrhanteria designated the demarcation.[138] Occasionally other terms were used for these vessels. A ritual norm from the sanctuary of Athena Nikephoros at Pergamon records hagisteria in the gateway (πύλη), presumably connected to the perirrhainô mentioned earlier in the same text.[139] It has also been suggested by scholars that other forms of vessels and features could be used for sprinkling at the entrance of a sanctuary, such as female figures carrying bowls.[140] The importance here was the act of purification, not the particular objects used to achieve this.
There is also archaeological evidence to draw on, though no perirrhanteria have been preserved in situ at the entrance of a sanctuary according to the detailed studies of Kerschner and Pimpl.[141] Yet, both authors interpret bases found in these areas as used for perirrhanteria.[142] In particular, Pimpl highlights fragments of a sixth-century BCE perirrhanterion found in the area of the late fourth-century BCE upper Propylon at the Sanctuary of Athena at Lindos, and fragments from one dated to the fourth century BCE found outside the Amyneion in Athens, which she connects to a base at the entrance of the sanctuary.[143]
The purifications by perirrhanteria at the entrance, ritually sprinkling a small amount of water, were not intended to ensure a respectful appearance or supply a more thorough cleansing of pollution. That should already have been ensured at this point. Now, the worshippers’ ritual purity was further ensured and augmented, while also being visually expressed for all to see by the sprinkling from perirrhanteria. Spatially, the placement of perirrhanteria at entrances served as a demarcation. In cases where the sacred precinct was not clearly indicated, individuals would have noticed both the sometimes-elaborate perirrhanteria and the commotion around them, showing where one was expected to enter the precinct. The same mechanisms may have been extra important during large festivals, as visitors unfamiliar with the site had to find their way, in particular if portable perirrhanteria had been placed to create temporary entrances. Finally, sprinkling at perirrhanteria constituted a visual cue communicating to others that one was pure enough to enter, thus signifying group affiliation; the persons who had passed the perirrhanteria at the entrance were part of the worshippers at the sanctuary, while those outside it were not.
Perirrhanteria were, however, not only used to delimit the precinct and mark out the group entering. Overall, it is notable how many perirrhanteria are found in sanctuaries.[144] In the precinct of Asklepios and Apollo Maleatas at Epidaurus up to 40 have been found.[145] At Aegina, in the sanctuary of Apollo, 35 perirrhanteria in terracotta as well as 14 in stone have been discovered.[146] In the sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia fragments from approximately 90 Archaic and Classical perirrhanteria have been found, at least 63 of them in the centre of the precinct and the large well south-west of the temple.[147] Numerous stands for perirrhanteria, but also the basins themselves, are attested without any spatial context in inventories and lists of donors, e.g. at the Parthenon on the Athenian Acropolis,[148] at Eleusis,[149] Delphi,[150] and on Delos.[151] Stands were presumably recorded as they were made of metal, usually iron, whereas the less valuable vessels on top, perhaps ceramic, were not listed.[152] Given the great number of perirrhanteria mentioned, it seems likely that some were movable and used at semi-regular intervals, e.g. for large sacrifices and festivals, or to create temporary demarcations and sacred zones.[153] Such a mobile perirrhanterion may be depicted on a fourth-century BCE Apulian volute krater showing the funeral of Patrocles.[154] The notion of movable perirrhanteria opens up for both the varying usage of this vessel, and the possibility to renew and augment purity at key points or during different ritual activities in the sanctuary. This suggests a cognitive spectrum in the perception of purity for both spatial and ritual purposes.
Priests perhaps received different kinds of purifications, when entering the office, or after having incurred miasma. In one instance from Kos, the priest was purified (καθαίρω) with the blood of a piglet and seawater upon instalment, and purified by a gold cup, presumably using water, in addition to prospermia (seeds) after having eaten polluted foods.[155] The use of a golden cup singled out the purification of the priest as special, in comparison to the other worshippers. No doubt these rituals were performed differently in different cults.
Purification through sprinkling or washing of the hands also took place at the altar, often in connection with prayers and sacrifices, as attested both in and outside sanctuaries.[156] A number of terms were used for the purification of participants before the sacrifice, such as cherniptomai with related terms suggesting a connection to the hands,[157] perirrhainô[158] and vessels such as lebetes.[159] Despite this, exactly how water was used around the altars is poorly understood. For example, Athenaeus explained the word chernips in a Eupolis fragment as “the water [ὕδωρ] into which they dipped a burning piece of wood [δαλός], after they removed it from the altar where they were making a sacrifice; they sprinkled [περιρραίνω] the individuals present with it to sanctify [ἁγνίζω] them”.[160] Similarly to sprinkling by perirrhanteria, a whisk may have been used for this purpose. At the altar, there is epigraphic evidence suggesting the use of olive and laurel.[161] The hands could also be dipped or washed, an act which seems to be illustrated in depictions of sacrifices presumably taking place in sanctuaries.[162] This difference between sprinkling and washing may have marked different roles in the rite, where those washing their hands had a more active role and needed to ensure both ritual and physical cleanliness of the hands that were to touch sacrificial animals or paraphernalia. Furthermore, those who washed their hands in chernips, or were sprinkled with it at the sacrifice, signalled that they belonged to the sacrificial group. In the case of a sacrifice with a large number of participants the sprinkling of a selected few could presumably symbolize the action for the whole group. We view this as rather than demarcating sacrificial space, here water was used to mark out a select group as participants. This would have united the group in the killing and eating, in the same way as the joint oulochytai and regulated sharing of the meat.[163] This notion is strengthened by how the shared sprinkling of altars was used to signify peace, symbolically uniting former enemies.[164]
Another important question is to what degree set paraphernalia were used for specific actions, such as the washing or dipping of hands in water before sacrifice. While the method used for the purification is rarely spelled out, in literary sources vessels (χέρνιβον and λέβητες) and water (χέρνιψ) are often described as located close to altars, suggesting usage there.[165] Many vessels strongly connected with the ritual sprinkling and washing of hands of the participants around the altar also occur in inventories, such as χερνιβεῖα and χειρόνιπτρα.[166] As noted above, objects listed in inventories may be understood as having been used for different activities in the sanctuary. One interesting category of phialai and χερνιβεῖα in the sanctuary inventories from Delos are labelled as perforated (τετρυπημένος).[167] The collection of several such objects, and that they were kept, suggests that they had some function. This could either have been utilitarian, for example removing dirt from perirrhanteria, or for sprinkling, either of humans, animals, or objects. In this case, the piercing could have altered the visual effect of sprinkling in a ritual context.
There is also evidence for purifications by altars in the form of perirrhanteria.[168] Remains of a perirrhanterion in terracotta have been found near a sacrificial area in the Sanctuary of the Great Gods at Samothrace.[169] Pimpl also found bases near altars, similar to those she identified as intended for perirrhanteria, at two sanctuaries on Delos; however, due to their location she interpreted them as used for χερνιβεῖα.[170] This follows her view that it was the function, not the form that determined a vessel’s designation. However, the epigraphic material suggests that perirrhanteria and χερνιβεῖα usually were physically different, as stands are never recorded for the latter. Therefore, if the bases were for perirrhanteria, it follows that these could be used for chernips, without making them χερνιβεῖα.
Sacrifices were regularly followed by dining in or close to the sacred precinct.[171] In many cases, this may also have required water not only for cooking and mixing with wine, but also for cleaning the hands and feet of the participants though feasts specifically after sacrifice are seldom mentioned by ancient authors. Descriptions and depictions of dining in other contexts, however, suggest that washing of hands and feet was a regular practice, for hands perhaps both before and after the dining.[172] In a rare literary testimony found in Euripides’ Ion, during a banquet in a tent following a mountaintop sacrifice, the participants wash their hands after dining but before drinking.[173] Overall, in sanctuaries, this otherwise secular washing seems to have had a religious flavour, as objects associated with chernips occur with dining implements in inventories. In one case from the Delian inventories, as many as 23 χερνιβεῖα are enumerated together with several krateres, hydriai, lampstands, thymiateria and oinochoai.[174] In another inventory, several χερνιβεῖα are mentioned together with krateres, foot basins, psykteres, and lampstands.[175] Moreover, since χερνιβεῖα were used for washing both during dining and sacrifices, perhaps the same vessel could be used for both acts, in particular in small sanctuaries with fewer resources.
Further attesting to the cleanliness required at dining, there were ποδανιπτήρες (or ποδάνιπτρα) to wash the feet. In an inventory of the Athenian amphictyones at Delos, one broken ποδανιπτήρ, as well as three whole ones are enumerated together with utensils for dining.[176] Overall ποδανιπτήρες, presumably in metal,[177] are found in inventories from large sanctuaries, above all Eleusis and Delos.[178] Some evidence of louteria and perirrhanteria have also been found in buildings that can be associated with dining at sanctuaries, for example the Xenon at Nemea, the so-called Prytaneion in Lato, and the gymnasium at Epidauros (now identified as a banqueting hall).[179] Yet, the material is not sufficient to secure the location and function of these objects with confidence.[180] Louteria and perirrhanteria could therefore have been set up in such places, but the current evidence should be treated with caution.
Finally, purifications similar to those at the entrance of the sacred precinct may also have taken place before entering the temple, based primarily on bases found in and around these.[181] At Isthmia, a base interpreted as used for a perirrhanterion has been found in the immediate vicinity of the temple.[182] An early Roman inscription there may also allude to a perirrhanterion standing in front of this.[183] Further bases for perirrhanteria have been documented at the temples of Asklepios and Artemis at Epidauros, and in front of the Athena temple at Stymphalos.[184] Another perirrhanterion may have been found in the Dörpfeld foundation on the Athenian Acropolis.[185] The use of perirrhanteria at the temple may have created an observable focus inside the sacred precinct, similar to that at the entrance, indicating when someone was about to enter the structure, as well as a visual marker for the commencement of ritual activity such as prayer at the statue of the god.[186]
Overall, a spectrum of how water was used and perceived emerges, from cleaning to purifying. In most cases, the same water seems to have been used for both ritual and utilitarian purposes as texts almost never suggest differentiation of sources, and only rarely is the quality of water (e.g. sea- or river water) mentioned. Moreover, it seems likely that only small quantities were used for ritual purposes. Despite this, such acts were made conspicuous through the use of specific vessels as well as other paraphernalia, for instance branches for sprinkling. In this way, the use of a transparent and everyday liquid became a visual and ritual focal point.
4.2 Purifying Things
Though less commonly attested, sacrificial animals, altars, images, and other objects could also be purified in sanctuaries.[187] Turning first to sacrificial victims, these were a gift to the gods. In this capacity they may have been cleaned already before entering the sanctuary.[188] However, the only attested example concerns the mysteries at Eleusis where the so-called “mystic piglets” were washed (λούω) in the sea and this can hardly be viewed as common cult practice.[189] There is also some evidence for the purification of victims at the altar with two literary passages being particularly important. The first comes from Dionysius Hallicarnassus who describes how the victims during a public Roman sacrifice were purified, using the term περιαγνίζω, before being sprinkled with corn and killed. Notably, the author explicitly states that this was the same manner in which the Greeks sacrificed.[190] The second testimony describes a domestic sacrifice in Aristophanes’ Pax.[191] Here the protagonist, Trygaeus, is instructing his slave to dip a firebrand (δαλός) in the chernips. Presumably the soaked firebrand would have produced both sound and smoke that likely played a part in the ritual. Following this the victim is admonished to shake its head, a motion interpreted by scholars as a reaction to the water being sprinkled on it.[192] A further example is found in the already mentioned passage from “Iphigenia in Tauris”, where Orestes has taken on the role of sacrificial victim and a purification, described with the verb cherniptomai, over his hair is required, presumably reflecting practice for sacrificial animals.[193] This passage is interesting but more difficult to interpret within the framework of regular cult practices.
This practice may also be attested in the epigraphical material, following scholars who have interpreted the term to begin, κατάρχομαι, as synonymous with ritual sprinkling of the animal before the sacrifice (and/or the burning of locks of the hair of the animal).[194] For example, in a sacrificial calendar from Kos, κατάρχω is described as performed with branches of olive and laurel trees, strongly suggesting sprinkling using water.[195] If correct, the sprinkling of the animal signified the start of this part of the ritual and, beyond a purificatory function, constituted a visual cue for all present to focus their attention on what was to follow. The use of branches for sprinkling would also have produced a more visible shower of water than using only one’s hand, as well as further involving the participants visually.
Altars could also be cleaned or purified. One example of this is a ritual norm from Cyrene where it is stated that an altar should be washed (ἀποπλύνω) and the fat removed if the wrong type of animal had been sacrificed there. In this case the method used is not mentioned but the verb πλύνω is otherwise used in utilitarian contexts for cleaning objects with water.[196] However, it is unlikely that the cleaning in this example could be done completely without religious connotations, as the inscriptions also required the sanctuary to be made pure (καθαρός). In Lysistrata, the protagonist mentions the sprinkling (περιρραίνω) of altars, in this case as a sign of peace.[197] It is also notable that the act is being described as performed by enemies using the same chernips, something which would signify that they belonged to the same group – or in this case that the two enemies were now reconciled. These testimonia from comedy confer with the Archaic ritual norm of Selinous where sprinkling (περιρραίνω) around the altar is prescribed, and that the altar should be anointed before sacrifice.[198] In two further cases, Aristophanes’ Pax and Aves, slaves make circuits around the altar with the water, albeit without specifying sprinkling or purification.[199] Overall, there is little evidence for the sprinkling of altars with water, but as for the use of perirrhanteria this may be due to the practice being so common that it hardly required mentioning. Moreover, there seems to be a strong religious component when it is done.
Moving away from the deity’s altar, washing its image is also attested, albeit more rarely than commonly conveyed in the modern literature[200] where myths are occasionally conflated with rituals.[201] There can, however, be little doubt that the washing of cult statues was a religiously significant act when it occurred, as deities were dangerous beings demanding awe and respect.
The best attested example is from the early third-century BCE cult of Aphrodite Pandemos at Athens. There the preparations for a procession included anointing the altar, blackening the doors with tar,[202] and washing (λούω) the statues.[203] Nothing is stated about how this was performed, but the verb used may imply both a ritual and a utilitarian washing. Whichever was more important, both were probably achieved. There is also good reason to believe that images at Eleusis were washed as there was an individual called the “Brightener” (φαιδυντής), a title attested during Roman times for those cleaning (καθαίρω) the statue of Zeus at Olympia.[204] Furthermore, the Delian inventories attest to the act of κόσμησις ἀγαλμάτων, presumably including cleaning of the images.[205] Some instances list what to use when cleaning: sponges (σφόγγοι), oil (ἔλαιον χοῦς ἡμίχουν), and sodium carbonate (νίτρον) presumably mixed with water.[206]
Quite often the washing of images is discussed within the framework of two Athenian festivals, the Plynteria and the Kallynteria.[207] The first is better known, with a common view holding that it included a ritual where the image of Athena Polias was taken to the sea at Phaleron and washed.[208] Yet, the evidence for this is circumstantial and subject to interpretation, as shown by John Herington and, later, Irene Romano.[209] The argument connects two known processions, one during the Plynteria where a fig cake was carried, and one where a xoanon was carried down to Phaleron and then back to Athens by torch-light, mentioned by the ninth-century CE patriarch and lexicographer Photios in the Suda. Based on the name, Plynteria, it has then been assumed that in Phaleron the image was washed in the sea. As a whole, the evidence does not give sufficient support for the washing of the image.[210]
In contrast to this, it is well attested that rituals involving the dress of the image were performed during the Plynteria.[211] This, in combination with the name of the event and the direct mention of the cleaning of the garment by Photios, makes it likely that it was the image’s garment that was washed.[212] Based primarily on the archaeological evidence, Mary Hollinshead has suggested that the ritual took place in the North Court of the Karyatid temple.[213] This washing, in turn, has been connected to two girls, called λουτρίδες or πλυντρίδες, who attended to the image of Athena.[214] The first term suggests bathing or washing of the image, the second the clothes, but neither offers conclusive evidence for either position. Furthermore, the participation of a priest called the κατανίπτης is suggested by Bekker.[215]
The Kallynteria is less well attested.[216] Photios writes that during it the image was dressed and made brilliant, but does not mention washing.[217] In modern scholarship Parke assumed, based on the name of the festival, “to beautify”, that during this the temple of Athena received a special annual clean-up.[218] However, there is no good evidence for the washing of either the image or its dress at this occasion. Overall, little is known about what took place during this festival and even less about how it was done.
Some examples of bathing images are more ambiguous.[219] It has been suggested that the bathing of an image of Athena in Callimachus’ “Hymns 5” reflects a real ritual.[220] However, there is no further evidence for the ritual which is reason to be cautious.[221] Throughout the text, actions that could be interpreted as ritual include mythical or fictional elements, e.g. when it is stated that the goddess herself will comb her hair with a golden comb brought to her. Possibly the described ritual was fictional but drew on actual events.
The image of Hera at Samos is another well-known example of the bathing of images, supposedly being washed in the sea during the Tonaia festival.[222] According to Menodotos, probably active in the third century BCE, this festival had its origins in an attempt by pirates to steal the image.[223] Failing, they left the statue on the beach where it was recovered and in due course purified (ἁγνίζω). The festival recreated the story by bringing the statue to the beach each year, purifying it (ἀφαγνίζω). How the purification was performed is however not mentioned, and there is nothing to say that the rite even included water.[224] Moreover, despite often figuring as an example, the bathing of the image of Aphrodite at Paphos is even more doubtful, as observed by Anthony Bulloch in 1985.[225] It appears that this ritual is a modern construct, based largely on the goddess’s association with the sea, sculptures showing her in bathing contexts, and the description of her bathing in her temple at Paphos in the Homeric Hymn.[226]
The washing of statues portraying mortals in sanctuaries is also attested. But in contrast to the case of divinities above, this should not be taken as automatically or directly religiously significant. Instead it should be viewed as part of the upkeep of the sanctuary and thereby connected to the concept of eukosmia. For example, in the familial cult of Diomedon at Kos, dated to ca. 325 BCE, it is specified that the portraits of Diomedon’s ancestors should be washed (καθαιρόντω), possibly on a monthly basis. But in contrast to Diomedon and Heracles these images did not receive sacrifices, placing them further away from the divine on the ritual spectrum.[227] In a similar case, a statue of Agasigratis in the temple as well as unspecified other images on an exedra in the sanctuary of Poseidon at Kalaureia were cleaned (ποιέω καθαρός) and wreathed before a biannual sacrifice.[228]
Interestingly, in no case, regardless of whether the statue depicted a god or mortal, does it seem like the cleaning involved water in a purificatory capacity. For images of the divinities this seems perfectly reasonable; the gods only exceptionally acquire miasma, as they did not involve themselves with birth, sex, or death.[229] Instead, the washing of these acquired religious significance through the need to respect the divinities they manifested. In addition to this, the washing of statues depicting both gods and mortals gained a ritual dimension through the concept of eukosmia, and further elevated the statues and their clothes in a public show of respect and display of the divinity’s power. As argued by Ian Rutherford, the sanctuary as a spectacular attraction was an essential part of Greek religion.[230]
Concerning other objects and structures, cleaning filled a similar function as for images, while simultaneously serving more specific ritual functions. In Homer, Achilles washes a cup (albeit not in a sanctuary context) from which he alone drank and poured libations only to Zeus. The washing was done with sulphur (ἐκάθηρε θεείῳ, καθαίρω used) and running water (ὕδατος καλῇσι ῥοῇσι, νίζω used) from a stream.[231] Here it may be suggested, based on the vocabulary, that sulphur was the primary purificatory agent and water used to clean this away so that the cup could be used. In a unique example, the sacred law of The Mysteries of the Goddess of Marmarini, dated to 225–150 BCE, it is mentioned that the sacred things around the goddess, the temple and possibly the peristyle should be washed (πλυντήριος) before a sacrifice.[232] This leads into another category of washing in sanctuaries: that of buildings. In Athens Parke has suggested that during the Plynteria and Kallynteria, in particular the latter, the temple of Athena was cleaned.[233] The washing of buildings is also known from Delos where a fragmentary inscription states that the Pythion should be cleaned with a sponge (σπογγίζω) and washed well (κατανίζω).[234] In an inscription from Eleusis, amphorae with water are mentioned in connection with “cleaning out” (ἀνακαθαίρω, emendated) of the sacred precinct (ἱερόν), possibly suggesting washing.[235] Similar washing of buildings is reflected in Euripides’ Ion, where the slave boy (unknowingly the son of Apollo) says he will purify (καθαρὸν τίθημι) the entrances to Phoebus’ house and sprinkle the floor with water (ῥανίς ὑγρός) with wreaths of sacred laurel sprigs.[236] In this case we see both strong ritual elements and a contribution to the general cleanliness of the site, following the notion that ritual and physical purity were interconnected.
Overall, the cleaning of things and structures in sacred precincts can be framed within the concept of eukosmia and respect for the gods.[237] Consequently, even though the individual acts of cleaning were not in themselves religiously charged, they gained religious significance. The importance ascribed to this is evident through sacred norms and honours bestowed on personnel keeping eukosmia.[238] Connected to eukosmia is the visual impression received by worshippers entering the sanctuary, generating emotions of awe and respect for the gods, as well as setting a stage for the rituals to be enacted inside.
4.3 Libations
Beyond purifications, water was also used for other activities,[239] such as libations. These occur frequently in the sources from Homer onwards,[240] and Herodotus portrays libations as a characteristic part of sacrificial rituals.[241] Beside sacrifices, libations were also performed during acts such as prayers,[242] consumption of food,[243] and independent rituals,[244] both in temene and in other contexts.[245] During the sacrifice, libations were made on the altar, using different liquids.[246] The medium used for libations is rarely specified.[247] Wine is most frequently mentioned, referring to it simply as such, or as wine mixed with water.[248] Other fluids were also used and a special term, νηφάλιος, existed for wine-less libations.[249] Libations could also use water alone, either unspecified,[250] or of a specific kind.[251] Theophrastus, in a historical exposé, purported νηφάλιοι, presumably using water, to have come first, followed by honey, and then oil. Libations with wine he labels as evolutionarily the last in human history.[252] In sacred norms water is not explicitly mentioned for libations, although νηφάλια and libations without wine occur.[253] Often the media were mixed, e.g., honey with water.[254]
Turning first to water as the sole offering, in one case in the “Odyssey”, water (ὕδωρ) is used instead of wine, for a sponde, as wine was lacking. However, this sacrifice is abnormal in several ways and seems rather to highlight how to not proceed.[255] Though not during a sacrifice, in Euripides’ Hypsipyle, Amphiaraos asks for running water (ῥυτὸν ὕδωρ) to pour a libation (χέω) of chernips to the gods.[256] Interestingly, here it seems that chernips, usually denoting lustral water, was used for a libation, attesting to the versatility of how this could be used. Looking at wine mixed with water, the practice is attested in the “Odyssey” where it is explicitly stated that diluted wine was to be used during a sacrifice to Poseidon.[257] In another case, an Archaic inscription from the stadium at Delphi, the wine destined for a god is specifically mentioned to have been mixed.[258] In later inscriptions, wine mixed with water can be seen at e.g. Kos and Miletos, as the liquid is drawn from krateres, or explicitly stated to be mixed.[259] Herodotus mentions two krateres in Delphi, one of gold and one of silver, placed on either side of the temple in Delphi, potentially used for libations at the altar.[260] Later the golden one was moved to a treasury and the silver one to the πρόναος where it was used for mixing wine during a θεοφάνια.[261] The term wine alone could further indicate that the drink was diluted with water. For example, in the “Odyssey” a cup with the wine used for libation during a sacrifice is returned to Odysseus, presumably for drinking, suggesting that the liquid was mixed.[262] In other cases, the wine is mentioned to be pure. A dossier of regulations from Miletus from ca. 200 BCE explicitly mentions the use of unmixed (ἄκρατος) wine.[263] The same term is used for the libation during a sacrifice to Apollo in the Argonautica.[264] In a less secure case, a scholia to Aristophanes’ Plutus explains that mixed wine was only libated to Hermes.[265]
Overall, explicit mentions of mixed or unmixed wine are few. We believe, however, that in most cases when libations only mention wine it can be assumed that it was mixed, as in many other contexts.[266] This is important as libations are assumed to have been part of all sacrifices.[267] Hence, the most basic ritual expressions of Greek religion, assuring ritual purity before a ritual act, and offering gifts to the gods among which libations had an important place, required water.
A number of vessels could be used for libations, most commonly phialai,[268] but also forms such as oinochoai[269] and δέπατα.[270] There was also a special libation vessel called σπονδοχόη.[271] There are further a small number of depictions showing hydriai used to pour over the altar.[272] In the iconographic evidence several vessels are occasionally used in combination, for example when the liquid is poured from oinochoai to phialai.[273] Display seems to have been important for libations. Often the objects used are made of gold or silver and the act is prominently shown in depictions.[274] A shining metal phiale would have augmented the visual impact of the pouring itself and therefore the importance of the libations. Furthermore, Milette Gaifman has explored the theatrical display of libations, and how the phiale was adapted to a steady flow of liquid.[275] Following Rutherford’s interpretation, the viewing in itself was as much part of the religious act as the prayer.[276] Notably, it was not only the value of the items in themselves, but their role in enhancing the act and its visibility that was important. We even know of the existence of a φιαληφόρος in an inscription concerning the cult of Magna Mater in Piraeus – appointing a special officiant to carry the phiale no doubt highlighted the visual performance of the ritual.[277]
One important effect of pouring liquid on a burning altar was the production of vapour and a larger volume of smoke as the efficiency of the fire was reduced. This would create a visual marker, indicating to anyone in the sanctuary that a sacrifice was ongoing, even if it was difficult to see the details. It would also have produced an initial hissing noise when poured over the fire and hot altar.[278] Possibly, libations were made several times during the sacrifice,[279] as additional elements of ritual display.[280] However, there is no evidence that sacrificial fires were habitually put out using libations.[281]
After the sacrifice, further libations were made during dining. In these cases, mixed wine can be presumed although explicit examples are rare. In a complex passage in Euripides’ Ion, mixed wine is however libated during dining.[282] Krateres are also known from inventories, for example an inventory from the Athenian amphictyones of Delos where several krateres might have been part of a dining setup.[283] Libations also took place in connection to other acts, for example during games and theatrical displays.[284] In the evidence, the making of libations is also often done in association with prayers away from sacrifices, in particular in Homer, but the medium is not specified further than wine and it is not done within the context of sanctuaries.[285] However, it seems reasonable to assume that individuals could and did perform libations in sanctuaries without sacrificing.[286]
5. Concluding Remarks
Water played an important, and from an emic perspective often self-evident, role in the religious life at sanctuaries. Our analysis has corroborated previous scholars’ view that the primary religious need of water was for purifications, but it has also explored its use for the cleaning of images, and libations. Notably, ritual usage of water in connection with sanctuaries appears to have conformed to a spatio-temporal framework, moving from the home to the sanctuary, and taking place on a spectrum from mundane to ritual, where cleaning gradually moved from more physical or utilitarian washing to more ritual and religiously significant purification. Through the desire for eukosmia, good order, at the sanctuary, even some otherwise seemingly utilitarian tasks gained a religious flavour, for example the washing of statues of mortals. In line with this, the washing of the hands constituted an important sign of respect for the gods when actively communicating with them.[287]
The spatio-temporal framework began before leaving the home, where a first purification was often performed. We suggest that this cleaning, often described with the term louô, was more physically thorough, while both ritual and utilitarian in nature. As this was done in private, visually expressing the purification was less important than the individual act of piety. An intermediate purification could be done on the way to the sanctuary, or just outside the temenos. This would have been more symbolic than the first cleaning, but could still have served to clean up the individual’s physical appearance, especially if travelling far to the sanctuary. Arriving at the temenos, a symbolic washing was done by the entrance, often using perirrhanteria, although this is less commonly attested than often assumed. Once inside the sanctuary, further symbolic purifications were performed. By the altar, the hands of the primary ritual enactors were purified and the group was sprinkled, marking out who had a part in the killing and eating. The altar itself may also have been purified. Likewise, there are cases where perirrhanteria are attested at the entrance of temples, suggesting that further purifications could be needed before entering the house of the god. Notably, once the sacrifice was over, or an individual had left the temple, no further purifications were needed, suggesting that this part of the ritual purpose of the visit, i.e. the communication with the god, had been concluded. Outside this spatio-temporal framework, hands and feet could be washed before dining in association with sacrifices. What is striking concerning the ritual use of water at sanctuaries is that all of these activities would have required relatively small volumes of water, in contrast to the more thorough washing (λούω) performed at home before leaving for the sanctuary.
The practices at Greek sanctuaries are particularly interesting as they highlight the difference between ritual and physical cleaning. It is difficult to argue that physical cleanliness was a central component of religious purity, as defilement was tied to impure acts. However, eukosmia was important, and included cleanliness of people, places, and items, as a way to show respect for the gods[288] especially before festivals.[289] Through this, cleaning gained a religious significance. While water is the natural medium for physical cleaning it also has the important advantage of being the most readily available fluid, even in the warm and dry Greek climate. Consequently, it was a convenient choice for ritual needs. The fact that most symbolic purifications were performed with water may therefore partly have been an expression of practical considerations.
One aspect that has seldom been considered in the discourse on water and religion is the visual element. When done, studies have focused on how this increased the experience of a religious act for the worshippers.[290] Based on the evidence presented above we argue that the visual, when using water, also played an important role in marking spaces and strengthening select groups, for example through the use of perirrhanteria at the limit of the sanctuary or the sprinkling of the sacrificial group. Similarly, at the altar this was performed for a smaller group either by sprinkling or washing of the hands. During sacrifices, libations would also have augmented the ceremony by the creation of smoke, perhaps at select and well-known points. Through this, even individuals who could not see the altar itself would immediately know that a sacrifice was taking place. Because of the need for water in most libations it is also notable that the liquid was a requirement for two of the pillars of Greek cult: the assertion of purity and the act of sacrificing.
The visual perspective is central because it shows how action was of primary importance when using water in ritual contexts, not the exact nature of the medium or objects used. As we have shown above, it is rarely specified from what source the water came. Only in a small number of cases is it specified that the water should be from the sea, or from a spring. Exactly how the water was used in ritual is often difficult to ascertain, but there are good reasons to assume that it was rarely formally regulated as no specific instructions are preserved in our material. Therefore it seems that in most cases exactly what type of water was used, how it was used, and with what implements was of less importance than the performance of the necessary acts.
Acknowledgements
This article is a result of the project “Water at ancient Greek sanctuaries: medium of divine presence or commodity for mortal visitors?” funded by the Swedish Research Council. For a presentation of the project, see Ehrenheim – Klingborg – Frejman 2019. We would like to thank Lin Foxhall for her valuable comments on a draft version of this paper, as well as the members of the Higher Seminar at the Department of Archaeology and Ancient History at Uppsala University, in particular Gunnel Ekroth, Dominic Ingemark, Marianne Wifstrand Schiebe and Erika Weiberg, for their much-appreciated feedback. We are also grateful for the work of the peer reviewers.
Funding: Funder Name: Vetenskapsrådet, Funder Id: http://dx.doi.org/10.13039/501100004359, Grant Number: 2018-01414
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Artikel in diesem Heft
- Titelseiten
- Aufsätze
- Ritual Usage of Water in Greek Sanctuaries
- Making Landscapes, Building Communities. A Journey along the Kopais Corridor in Boiotia
- Beobachtungen und Überlegungen zu den sogenannten Hekatompedon-Inschriften (IG I3 4)
- The Athenian Bank: a Conspicuous Example of Labour Specialisation
- Drafting the Bibliotheke. Diodorus Siculus’ Writing Process
- The Roman Revolution: The Pax Romana
- Nemedus Augustus y el culto imperial en áreas rurales de la Península Ibérica
- Ptolemaios, Caligula und die fremde abolla – Neue Überlegungen zum Ende des letzten mauretanischen Königs
- Apokolokyntosis und De clementia: Neros Prinzipat und Senecas Kommentar
- Iohannes Augustus. Biografía de un emperador maldito
- Literaturkritik
- Julia L. Shear, Serving Athena. The Festival of the Panathenaia and the Construction of Athenian Identities, Cambridge – New York (Cambridge University Press) 2021, XXII, 532 S., ISBN 978-1-108-48527-2 (geb.), £ 105,–
- Pat Wheatley – Charlotte Dunn, Demetrius the Besieger, Oxford – New York (Oxford University Press) 2020, 528 S., ISBN 978-0-19-883604-9 (geb.), £ 115,–
- Silvia Panichi, La Cappadocia ellenistica sotto gli Ariaratidi ca. 250–100 a.C., Florenz (Leo S. Olschki) 2018 (Biblioteca di Geographia Antiqua 5), XIV, 134 S., ISBN 978-88-222-6580-7 (brosch.), € 25,–
- Hendrikus A. M. van Wijlick, Rome and the Near Eastern Kingdoms and Principalities, 44–31 BC, Leiden – Boston (Brill) 2020 (Impact of Empire 38), 307 S., ISBN 978-90-04-44174-3 (geb.), € 134,82
- Laurens E. Tacoma, Roman Political Culture. Seven Studies of the Senate and City Councils of Italy from the First to the Sixth Century AD, Oxford – New York (Oxford University Press) 2020, XII, 320 S., ISBN 978-0-19-885080-9 (geb.), £ 87,–
- Frank Görne, Die Obstruktionen in der Römischen Republik, Stuttgart (Franz Steiner Verlag) 2020 (Historia 264), 333 S., ISBN 978-3-515-12754-7 (geb.), € 70,–
- Friedrich Meins, Paradigmatische Geschichte. Wahrheit, Theorie und Methode in den Antiquitates Romanae des Dionysios von Halikarnassos, Stuttgart (Franz Steiner Verlag) 2019 (Palingenesia 113), 169 S., ISBN 978-3-515-12255-9 (geb.), € 47,–
- Sylvain Forichon, Les spectateurs des jeux du cirque à Rome (Ier siècle a.C. au VIe siècle p.C.). Passion, émotions et manifestations, Bordeaux (Ausonius Éditions) 2020 (Collection Scripta Antiqua 133), 380 S., ISBN 978-2-35613-345-8 (brosch.), € 25,–
- Sophia Bönisch-Meyer, Dialogangebote. Die Anrede des Kaisers jenseits der offiziellen Titulatur, Leiden – Boston (Brill) 2021 (Impact of Empire 39), X, 626 S., ISBN 978-90-04-44373-0 (geb.), € 136,25
- Wojciech Pietruszka, The Municipal Elites of Campania during the Antonine-Severan Period, Wiesbaden (Harrassowitz Verlag) 2020 (Philippika 140), X, 487 S., ISBN 978-3-447-11452-3 (geb.), € 98,–
- Fritz Mitthof – Gunther Martin – Jana Grusková (Hgg.), Empire in Crisis. Gothic Invasions and Roman Historiography. Beiträge einer internationalen Tagung zu den Wiener Dexipp-Fragmenten (Dexippus Vindobonensis) Wien, 3.–6. Mai 2017, Wien (Holzhausen) 2020 (Tyche Supplement 12), XII, 608 S., 14 Abb., ISBN 978-3-903207-38-7 (brosch.), € 65,–
Artikel in diesem Heft
- Titelseiten
- Aufsätze
- Ritual Usage of Water in Greek Sanctuaries
- Making Landscapes, Building Communities. A Journey along the Kopais Corridor in Boiotia
- Beobachtungen und Überlegungen zu den sogenannten Hekatompedon-Inschriften (IG I3 4)
- The Athenian Bank: a Conspicuous Example of Labour Specialisation
- Drafting the Bibliotheke. Diodorus Siculus’ Writing Process
- The Roman Revolution: The Pax Romana
- Nemedus Augustus y el culto imperial en áreas rurales de la Península Ibérica
- Ptolemaios, Caligula und die fremde abolla – Neue Überlegungen zum Ende des letzten mauretanischen Königs
- Apokolokyntosis und De clementia: Neros Prinzipat und Senecas Kommentar
- Iohannes Augustus. Biografía de un emperador maldito
- Literaturkritik
- Julia L. Shear, Serving Athena. The Festival of the Panathenaia and the Construction of Athenian Identities, Cambridge – New York (Cambridge University Press) 2021, XXII, 532 S., ISBN 978-1-108-48527-2 (geb.), £ 105,–
- Pat Wheatley – Charlotte Dunn, Demetrius the Besieger, Oxford – New York (Oxford University Press) 2020, 528 S., ISBN 978-0-19-883604-9 (geb.), £ 115,–
- Silvia Panichi, La Cappadocia ellenistica sotto gli Ariaratidi ca. 250–100 a.C., Florenz (Leo S. Olschki) 2018 (Biblioteca di Geographia Antiqua 5), XIV, 134 S., ISBN 978-88-222-6580-7 (brosch.), € 25,–
- Hendrikus A. M. van Wijlick, Rome and the Near Eastern Kingdoms and Principalities, 44–31 BC, Leiden – Boston (Brill) 2020 (Impact of Empire 38), 307 S., ISBN 978-90-04-44174-3 (geb.), € 134,82
- Laurens E. Tacoma, Roman Political Culture. Seven Studies of the Senate and City Councils of Italy from the First to the Sixth Century AD, Oxford – New York (Oxford University Press) 2020, XII, 320 S., ISBN 978-0-19-885080-9 (geb.), £ 87,–
- Frank Görne, Die Obstruktionen in der Römischen Republik, Stuttgart (Franz Steiner Verlag) 2020 (Historia 264), 333 S., ISBN 978-3-515-12754-7 (geb.), € 70,–
- Friedrich Meins, Paradigmatische Geschichte. Wahrheit, Theorie und Methode in den Antiquitates Romanae des Dionysios von Halikarnassos, Stuttgart (Franz Steiner Verlag) 2019 (Palingenesia 113), 169 S., ISBN 978-3-515-12255-9 (geb.), € 47,–
- Sylvain Forichon, Les spectateurs des jeux du cirque à Rome (Ier siècle a.C. au VIe siècle p.C.). Passion, émotions et manifestations, Bordeaux (Ausonius Éditions) 2020 (Collection Scripta Antiqua 133), 380 S., ISBN 978-2-35613-345-8 (brosch.), € 25,–
- Sophia Bönisch-Meyer, Dialogangebote. Die Anrede des Kaisers jenseits der offiziellen Titulatur, Leiden – Boston (Brill) 2021 (Impact of Empire 39), X, 626 S., ISBN 978-90-04-44373-0 (geb.), € 136,25
- Wojciech Pietruszka, The Municipal Elites of Campania during the Antonine-Severan Period, Wiesbaden (Harrassowitz Verlag) 2020 (Philippika 140), X, 487 S., ISBN 978-3-447-11452-3 (geb.), € 98,–
- Fritz Mitthof – Gunther Martin – Jana Grusková (Hgg.), Empire in Crisis. Gothic Invasions and Roman Historiography. Beiträge einer internationalen Tagung zu den Wiener Dexipp-Fragmenten (Dexippus Vindobonensis) Wien, 3.–6. Mai 2017, Wien (Holzhausen) 2020 (Tyche Supplement 12), XII, 608 S., 14 Abb., ISBN 978-3-903207-38-7 (brosch.), € 65,–