What Are Pagan River Gods Doing in Scenes of Jesus’ Baptism?

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From its earliest days, one of the most popular scenes in Christian art has been John the Baptist baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River—and understandably so. Jesus’ baptism is a central moment in the Gospel narrative.

The standard cast of characters in the baptism scene includes the Baptist, Jesus and the dove of the Holy Spirit. (“The Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form, as a dove, and a voice came from heaven, ‘Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased’ ” [Luke 3:22; see also the parallels in Matthew 3:16–17 and Mark 1:10–11].)^a Sometimes angels also appear across the river from the Baptist.

But beginning in the late fifth or early sixth century C.E.^b and continuing to modern times, another figure turns up in scenes of baptism—perhaps we should consider him an uninvited guest—a classical male river deity, either sitting on the side watching the action, or partially submerged in the river itself. He makes a gesture of acclamation, or surprise, or fear at what is happening in his river. Sometimes he holds a jug that is the source of the river’s flow.

This vestige of late classical art, a pagan deity no less, appearing as it does in so special a Christian context and at so late a date, is both surprising and troubling. This river deity simply does not belong, either in the Biblical narrative or in our understanding of Christian rejection of pagan divinities. His appearance conflicts with what we had believed about Christian exclusivity. Oddly, most historians of Christian art have avoided the issue of the river god’s presence. Whether they are simply unaware of it rather than surprised or troubled by it, or Just baffled by it, is not clear.

Two of the most famous—and beautiful—depictions of Jesus’ baptism are early sixth-century 036mosaics in Ravenna, Italy. One is in the apex of the dome of the so-called Arian Baptistry. The other is in the same spot in the Neonian, or Orthodox, Baptistry. In both, the Jordan River deity watches John baptizing Jesus in the river’s flowing waters (see first photo and below). The river deity made his Christian debut, however, as early as the late third century, on a Roman sarcophagus on which were carved several other water-centered scenes including Jonah falling into the sea and fishermen with their nets. On this sarcophagus the trident-bearing water deity holds a jug that is the water source for all the images. He turns up again on a fifth-century ivory casket (see photo of ivory casket). In each case the river god is modeled, more or less directly, on the classical river deity conventionally personifying a particular river or sea. In classical art, as well as in Christian art, his iconographic attributes include water plants (often held as if they were scepters), a headpiece made from crab claws, and the overturned water jug. The deity usually reclines halfnaked, with a benign, even jovial aspect.¹

In a strict sense, these classical river personifications are not really deities. They are better described as ancient spirits that found their way into art and literature. Their function is to provide the setting for, or the identification of, a geographical place to locate an action. Perhaps they betoken a prophecy, rather than wielding specific divine powers.² The connection between these classical prototypes and the Jordan deity in Christian iconography could be nothing more, it might be argued, than artistic borrowing of earlier models. Many classical “types”—that is, patterns or models—found their way into the canon of Christian images. Job is depicted as a philosopher; Jonah as Endymion (beloved of the moon goddess, he slept eternally), reclining under his gourd vine.³ (The same is true, incidentally, in Jewish art: In the third-century synagogue at Dura Europos, Moses is portrayed as Hercules wielding his club; in the sixth-century synagogue at Gaza, a mosaic of David depicts him as Orpheus taming the animals with his music [see photo of mosaic of David)

However, these survivals of “types” in Christian art involve transformations of content and loss of original identity. The deities or heroes that once served as models never appear per se in the context of a biblical narrative, as is the case with the classical river deity in portrayals of Jesus’ baptism.

It is of course tempting to attribute the Jordan deity’s appearance in Christian iconography to religious syncretism, but this is highly unlikely. By the sixth century there was little in the way of traditional Roman gods or mystery cults to compete with official Christian orthodoxy.

Why then is the Jordan personified in this plainly Christian context?

At least a partial answer is that Christian artists sometimes used personifications—particularly of cities like Constantinople, Jerusalem and Rome—in their compositions as a kind of geographical marker. In this sense the river god is simply the personification of the Jordan River. Nature deities or personifications also appear in other contexts: Sol and Luna watching over the crucifixion, or the Virgin standing on the crescent moon.

Another aspect of the answer relates to what we may call “sacred geography.” Almost from the beginning, the Jordan River was regarded in Christian tradition and piety as a very important body of water. Indeed, its waters were blessed. A crossmarker was set up at the place where Jesus’ baptism was supposed to have taken place. Bede’s eighth-century description includes not only the cross-marker but also, in the midst of the stream, a square church “supported by four stone arches, covered with burned tiles, where the Lord’s clothes 038were kept while he was baptized.”⁴ From a very early time, pilgrims doubtless carried small flasks of Jordan water home With them.⁵ Pilgrim sampling and souvenir buying is reflected in the collections of souvenir flasks (ampullae) and medals, mostly from the Holy Land, that depict scenes from Jesus’ life, including his baptism in which the Jordan deity appears.⁶

To create an iconographic type for a holy site, it would be easy to appropriate the classical form for a personified river.

The appearance of the river deity demonstrates the importance of the Jordan in the Christian imagination. We also find the unusual importance, of the Jordan reflected in patristic literature (that is, the literature of the early Church fathers). For example, Gregory of Nyssa, in a sermon, refers to the prophet Elisha’s cleansing of Naaman the leper in the Jordan River (2 Kings 5:10–14) as a sign of its extraordinary power, which he then connects to the baptism of Jesus:

“When Naaman the Syrian, who was diseased with leprosy, had come to him [Elisha] as a suppliant, he cleansed the sick man by washing him in the Jordan, clearly indicating what should come, both by the use of water generally, and by the dipping in the river in particular. For Jordan alone of rivers, receiving in itself the first-fruits of sanctification and benediction, conveyed in its channel to the whole world, as by itself, the grace of Baptism.”⁷

Early Christian exegetes who employed typological and allegorical methods always interpreted a biblical reference to the Jordan River as symbolizing Christian baptism. We have seen this in the case of Naaman’s healing bath, which became a kind of baptism. Christian exegetes treated Elijah’s and Elisha’s parting and crossing of the Jordan (2 Kings 2:6–15) in the same way—as a kind of baptism.⁸ Elisha’s throwing wood into the Jordan to retrieve the axehead (2 Kings 6:4–6) has also been treated this way.

The most popular example of course was Joshua and the Israelites’ passage through the Jordan to the Promised Land. As you will recall, just as the people were passing through, God caused the Jordan’s waters to “rise up in a heap,” allowing the priests carrying the ark to pass on dry ground (Joshua 3:13–17). Of course, Christian exegetes also noted that Joshua (Yehoshua in Hebrew) prefigured Jesus (Yeshua in Aramaic), even in his name. In the Hebrew Bible itself, the parting of the Jordan is a typological repetition of the parting of the Red Sea by which the Israelites escaped from Egypt. The Israelites’ passage through the Red Sea is regarded in 1 Corinthians 10:1–2 as a kind of baptism.

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The Gospels themselves provide additional material for these exegetical parallels whenever Jesus crosses the Jordan. In John 10:40–11:6, Jesus crosses the Jordan at the spot where he had been baptized and then waits there three days before recrossing in order to raise Lazarus, just as Joshua waited three days before crossing the Jordan to attack Jericho (Joshua 3:2). Jesus’ three-day wait is both a parallel to Joshua’s three-day wait and a type of the three days in the tomb or the three-fold immersion (i.e., the three “dippings” of the neophyte in the baptismal font, in the name of the Trinity).⁹

Because Joshua’s leading the Israelites across the Jordan paralleled their crossing of the Red Sea, the former was often seen as the type of the “new covenant” versus the “old” (that is, the crossing of the Red Sea).¹⁰

The Jordan is personified even by Jerome, a late fourth- to early fifth-century Church father, in a rather sentimental passage describing Jesus’ baptism: “The Jordan River that dried up when Joshua led the Israelites into the Land of Promise, now longed to gather together all its waters into one place, if it could, to bathe the body of the Lord.”¹¹

In the eyes of some interpreters, Jesus actually purified the Jordan when he was baptized in its waters, an act that in turn made all water the source of purification for ordinary humanity.¹² The Jordan was, clearly, the prototypical “river of life.”¹³

These typologies help us understand the use of the Jordan personification as a geographical reference in baptism scenes. He functions as a geographical marker of a sacred identification, taken from classical art.

Another factor, however, further complicates matters. There are really two kinds of portrayals of the river deity in baptism scenes, and they appear contemporaneously. Some have the aspect of the river deity found in traditional late classical art. Others, however, have a less classical aspect. They are partially submerged, usually half-turned away—as if fleeing—and are holding up their hands in a gesture of awe or fear. Sometimes they have feminine features.¹⁴ This subcategory is sometimes described as the “Eastern” depiction of the river deity. The two categories of these river deities are illustrated by the two mosaics in Ravenna: The classical depiction is represented in Ravenna’s Arian Baptistry; the Eastern depiction is represented in Ravenna’s Orthodox Baptistry. In the Eastern portrayal, the river deity also seems more demonic in appearance than in the classical portrayal.

The discussion thus far explains the appearance of the classical portrayal. But how do we explain the Eastern portrayal, as exemplified in Ravenna’s Orthodox Baptistry?

The interpretation of the image in the Eastern portrayal may be found in the liturgy of Christian baptism. As already noted, the early Church fathers believed that Jesus purified the Jordan when he was baptized in its waters, an act that in turn made the water the source of purification for ordinary humanity.¹⁵ Even the baptismal font was itself sometimes simply called “Jordan,” another 040example of a strong link between the baptism of the neophyte and its type, or archetype, the baptism of Jesus.¹⁶ We know from baptismal catecheses and liturgies, however, that part of the reason the priest consecrated the font at the beginning of the rite was to rid the water of its demons.¹⁷ Tertullian, a third-century Church father, was especially suspicious of water; he knew that it was attractive to the subtle demons and minions of Satan:

“Unclean spirits do settle upon waters, pretending to reproduce that primordial resting of the Holy Spirit upon them: for instance, shady springs and all sorts of unfrequented streams, pools in bathing-places … and those wells called ‘snatching wells,’ were malignant spirits violently snatch people … whom water has drowned or stricken with madness or fear.”¹⁸

This same motive lay behind the exorcism and anointing of candidates in the baptistry, a strengthening and apotropaic act that was intended to assist them while in the waters of the font, doing battle (in a final sense) with Satan.

Thus it may be possible to interpret the scenes featuring the malevolent or “fleeing” Jordan images—the Eastern image in baptism scenes—as Jesus triumphing over the fearful and fleeing powers of Satan that are, in some sense, inherent in nature. The “benign” personifications, the classical portrayals, on the other hand, may be understood as references to the sacred river and its important witness to Jesus’ epiphany.

We may end by considering an unusual baptism scene—the fifth-century apse mosaic of Hosios David in Thessalonica. Rather than submitting to baptism, the heavenly Christ in this mosaic sits upon a rainbow within a shimmering orb. Beneath his feet the water of the Jordan, flowing from the rock of paradise, holds a submerged river deity making the gesture of wonder.

From late antiquity to the present, this figure has appeared in representations of Jesus’ baptism. Examples of icons from medieval to modern times show small figures like this in the waters of the Jordan. In these depictions both interpretations apply, giving us a rather paradoxical figure, one that represents an exorcised water spirit and at the same time personifies one of the most sacred sites in the Holy Land—the Jordan River.

Christian art often surprises us with details or even whole compositions that do not conform to our expectations. These Jarring or even vexing surprises should lead us to reexamine our assumptions about the faith and its popular expression in a particular cultural context. At the very least these 041artistic surprises reveal something new to us, shedding a small beam of light on a forgotten corner of history. At most they awaken us to the importance of seriously studying the rich trove of historical data inherent in iconographic evidence. when historians of religion begin to weigh the material and artistic data, as heavily as the textual or documentary data, they may make some exciting new discoveries, while beautifying and illuminating their scholarship in the bargain.

Church historians, too, are often surprised by the endurance of certain pagan traditions or expressions and by the influence on the religious imagination of Christians in general of such popular practices as pilgrimages to the Holy Land. It might even be that these aspects of the history of Christianity reflect as much about the faith as do the development of doctrine and the definition of orthodoxy.

From its earliest days, one of the most popular scenes in Christian art has been John the Baptist baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River—and understandably so. Jesus’ baptism is a central moment in the Gospel narrative. The standard cast of characters in the baptism scene includes the Baptist, Jesus and the dove of the Holy Spirit. (“The Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form, as a dove, and a voice came from heaven, ‘Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased’ ” [Luke 3:22; see also the parallels in Matthew 3:16–17 and Mark 1:10–11].)a Sometimes […]