The Yattir Mosaic: A Visual Journey to Christ

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Once the Yattir excavation team got over the surprise of finding a magnificent sixth-century C.E. church on the site’s southern spur, where we were looking for much simpler, earlier remains, we began to think about how to interpret the many complex symbols embedded in the mosaic floor of the nave. We were immediately struck by the absence of animal and human images in the later floor, dated to 631 C.E., which was laid over the first mosaic. Images of birds and vine medallions from the original floor are still visible along the north side of the nave. Why did the later floor not contain any such images? Might it have been built in compliance with the second commandment’s prohibition of images? We cannot say for sure, but we do know that the human form is rarely found in the mosaic pavements of early churches and their complexes.¹

The nave section of this mosaic is made up of 23 bands, or registers. Do the scanty geometric designs—like the large central medallion and rosettes, along with the rondels and stylized trees—in this curiously planned, sometimes roughly executed, almost amateurish mosaic have special meaning? I think they do.

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As we enter the church, we are confronted with the dedicatory inscription. Directly above this is a six-foot-high representation of a Byzantine processional cross² (see photo above; a processional cross has an opening at its base to accept a long staff or handle, upon which it was carried at the head of a procession in heraldic fashion). The horizontal arms of the processional cross bear pendalia, ornaments suspended by chains from the bottom of the horizontal arms. Three of the four arms of the cross flair slightly at the ends, and disk-shaped finials complete the two horizontal arms.³ The cross itself is scored, both vertically and horizontally, making it appear like intersecting ladders.

I think that the cross, together with the small sphere upon which it stands, symbolizes the final triumph over death and the reign of Christ over the world. Within this sphere is a design, perhaps a star, with eight points. The number eight is laden with special meaning in Christian iconography. It traditionally symbolizes the eighth day, Easter Sunday, when Christ rose from the dead (the first day is Palm Sunday, the day Jesus entered Jerusalem). According to this numerology, he was crucified on Friday, the sixth day, so six also has special significance in Christian symbolism. But the symbolism of eight is even greater, for that is the day of salvation, won for us by Christ through the resurrection. Indeed, eight was a symbol of new life even before 039Christ, since eight persons were saved from the flood by Noah (Genesis 7:13).

Eight is used as a powerful Christian symbol in other contexts as well. The star of Bethlehem is often shown with eight radiating beams, as in the painting opposite. Jesus was circumcised and formally named in the Temple on the eighth day (Luke 2:21). The number eight may also refer to the eight beatitudes that Jesus taught during the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:1–12; Luke 6:17–49).

Above the processional cross is a large geometrically filled circle, the central focus of the mosaic. It gives the appearance of motion, an effect produced by concentric circles of curvilinear triangles. In the center of the large circle is a smaller circle containing a two-colored cross, dividing this lesser circle into quadrants. This form of a cross within a circle, replicated since prehistoric times, is called a wheel-cross; the spokes create the illusion of rotation and motion. It simulates the eternal movement perceived in the sun and the universe as a whole, created by a divine, all-knowing and dynamic power. In later Christian contexts, Christ is represented in the wheel-cross as lord over all the earth.⁴ In his perpetual motion, God is mystifying and inexplicable. He controls the mysteries of life, death and resurrection; he is beyond the limited understanding of man.

Above this large circle are several panels containing date palms, which I suggest represent the tree of life. In a register above the large circle, we see two date palms in circles, or medallions, and a central circle enclosing a cross with pendalia. In the ancient world the tree of life was seen as “a bridge linking heaven and earth”—a beginning point, or “central seed,” the potential of creation, growing in two directions and creating the “world axis.”⁵ The location of the cross between the two palm tree medallions and the similar circle around it indicates that the cross can also be interpreted as the tree of life. The cross, too, was “a symbol of the sacred center of creation … symboliz(ing) the center of the universe … prefigured by the tree of Paradise …”⁶

The many crosses in the mosaic raise a separate issue: In 427 C.E. the Emperor Theodosius II forbade the placing of crosses on pavements to prevent people from walking on and thereby desecrating this sacred Christian symbol. This same interdiction was included in the Code of Justinian in 528 C.E. As this mosaic pavement makes clear, however, this prohibition was by no means universally obeyed. Indeed, in the seventh century crosses on church pavements became more widespread, not less.

Several commentators have noted early Christian belief in the power of the cross to ward off evil. St. John Chrysostom mentioned this as early as the fourth century. Relying on this power, crosses were often placed in mosaic pavements at building entrances to keep evil from entering.⁷

Above the register with the trees of life is another band of palm trees and two unusual, but related, symbols. Look carefully, and you will see two sets of four interlocking circles. One of these sets of interlocking circles is enclosed in an outer circle. The other set of interlocking circles is not enclosed. These interlocking circles may symbolize the Hellenistic continuum of elements—fire, air, water and earth. Translated into spiritual and psychological terms, fire represents intuition, or the soul’s relationship with the divine; air, thinking, the soul’s relationship with the intellectual; water, feeling, the soul’s relationship with emotion; and earth, sensation, the soul’s relationship with the physical.⁸ To the left, the unenclosed set of interlocking circles depicts these elements in an incomplete or less-than-perfect state, symbolizing earthly existence. On the right, however, the enclosing circle unifies the elements, exemplifying all the states of the human condition as complete, whole and integrated into a life of virtue,⁹ and, ultimately, eternal life in heaven.

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At the left end of this register is an inscription. Its three letters are not easy to read, but I believe they can be identified as nu, omicron and eta. This is probably intended to be read as Noah. In the Greek New Testament the traditional spelling of Noah is nu-omega-epsilon. The interchange of eta and epsilon, however, occurred frequently in koine Greek (the Greek language as commonly spoken and written in eastern Mediterranean countries during Hellenistic and Roman times).¹⁰ The exchange of the long vowel sound of eta for the short vowel sound of epsilon forces the shift of the short omicron for the long omega so that each version contains both a long and short syllable in opposite order.

To early Christians, Noah represented a link between the Old and New Testaments. As such, he could easily represent Christian belief in a future life: Noah was not just rescued from the flood by the hand of God, he was also snatched from the earthly and imperfect world of sin to share in the perfect life of heaven through the resurrection of Christ.

The earliest Christian paintings in the catacombs of Rome (second to fourth century C.E.) depict this same belief in a future life, using images from episodes in the Old and New Testaments, such as the rescue of Noah from the flood, the saving of Isaac from the sacrifice of Abraham, the escape of Jonah from the whale and the raising of Lazarus. These and other paintings are metaphors for escape from death in this world.

That the name Noah appears within the same band as the two sets of circles suggests that there may be an additional meaning to these forms. Because Noah is a link between the Old and New Testaments, the unenclosed set of four circles might represent the four Evangelists or the four Gospels, while the enclosed set, with five circles, might refer to the five books of the Hebrew Torah, the Pentateuch.

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The register directly above this is filled with a diamond-shaped lattice pattern. Similar latticework appears in several registers of the mosaic—near the entrance, adjacent to the processional cross and adjacent to the circle that is the central focus of the mosaic. Commentators have suggested several interpretations of similar latticework elsewhere—a fisherman’s net, a “cosmic ladder,”¹¹ a chancel screen in front of the altar of a church.¹² The latticework may have a different symbolism depending on where it is located. I believe that is the case in this mosaic. The latticework near the entrance, where the faithful entered, may represent a fishing net symbolically gathering them in. The metaphor is obvious: Jesus’ apostles were fishermen who, when he called them to follow him, became “fisher[s] of men” (Luke 5:1–11).

The latticework in the register closer to the apse more likely represents a chancel screen. In churches the chancel screen separated the main hall of the church from the apse, where the altar was located, mimicking the division of the universe into two worlds—heaven and earth, the dwelling place of God and man’s earthly home, the world of eternal truth and the sensual world.¹³ The lattice chancel screen used in contemporaneous churches may be represented by the lattice register of the mosaic. Latticed screens also appear in several early representations of Christ’s tomb.¹⁴

Closer to the apse is a register with trees of life and medallions with designs in them. Just to the left of the central medallion is an arched building with a single light hanging near the top. Above and beside the arch are some stray crosses. What does this building represent? A similar arched building in a mosaic at Beth ha-Shitta has been called a “holy dwelling place,”¹⁵ in the same sense that Bethel, where Jacob had his dream, came to be regarded as God’s dwelling place. Considering the other themes of our mosaic, this arched structure may be intended as the tomb of Christ, who is the light of the world.

The band above this consists of a series of connected diamonds, or lozenges, as they are called in scholarly literature. Inside each is a small symbol: a cross, a five-pointed star, a double axe. Curiously, in the lozenge on the far right is what looks like a scarab beetle. In ancient Egyptian iconography, the dung beetle was associated with metamorphosis and rebirth because each new generation of beetles seemed to appear spontaneously out of the dung balls rolled by the last generation (see “King Hezekiah’s Seal Revisited,” in this issue). The beetle, because it rolled its dung ball across the earth, became associated with the sun “rolling” across the sky. Just as the sun seemed to disappear into the earth in the west every evening and to reappear every morning in the east, dung beetles seemed to be reborn autonomously from their dung balls. For early Christians, the scarab beetle likewise seemed to embody the meaning of the resurrection and new life.

The final band before the apse features a stylized, gabled building with three hanging lights in the form of circles. In each circle is a cross. Here, on the other side of the representation of the chancel screen, is the holy of holies, God’s dwelling place, perhaps Heaven itself, the home of the Holy Trinity, which the three lights may signify. While the arched building with a single light may represent Christ’s earthly tomb, the three lights in the gabled building may signify the heavenly dwelling.

It is not difficult to imagine the service in this early monastic church, where the liturgy probably began with a procession of monks, led by a server bearing a processional cross, from the entrance of the church to the altar. Perhaps the mosaic design is meant as a visual accompaniment for a lite (Greek, meaning prayer or supplication)¹⁶ with its procession—a spiritual journey or pilgrimage toward personal growth in imitation of Christlike perfection, with the ultimate goal of heaven and eternal life. This is indeed what Christians are called upon to do. The mosaic in this monastic church expresses the monks’ journey to Christ.

Once the Yattir excavation team got over the surprise of finding a magnificent sixth-century C.E. church on the site’s southern spur, where we were looking for much simpler, earlier remains, we began to think about how to interpret the many complex symbols embedded in the mosaic floor of the nave. We were immediately struck by the absence of animal and human images in the later floor, dated to 631 C.E., which was laid over the first mosaic. Images of birds and vine medallions from the original floor are still visible along the north side of the nave. Why did […]