Le christianisme éthiopien

We enjoyed this recent talk with Marie-Laure Derat and Martina Ambu on Ethiopian Christianity. Quite interesting. 

Christianity in the Sudan

Giovanni Vantini's Christianity in the Sudan is a dated work which, by and large, is mainly about Christian Nubia. Heavily based on the corpus of "Oriental" sources (plus some European ones) Vantini published, much of the text is like reading that compilation with some narrative commentary. It was a refresher for certain points in the history of medieval Nubia that we have forgotten about, but without any deeper investigation of the source materials, rather limited. Fortunately, advances by archaeologists and studies of Old Nubian and other textual sources has shed more light on the nature of the Nubian political system, economic structure, and religion. For instance, Dotawo is now more widely accepted as being the same state as Makuria. Sadly, Alwa, in Upper Nubia, remains a mystery in Vantini's text, but that is no surprise given the year this work was published (1980). More intriguingly for those interested in the later centuries of medieval Nubia, one can find here useful Western sources on Nubia and some important references to the Vatican's attempts to replant the Christian seed in Nubia. Some of this correspondence even touches upon the Kwararafa south of Borno, confusingly believed by some Europeans in Tripoli to have been Christians. Last, but certainly not least, some European sources also alluding to the survival of Christianity in pockets of Nubia as late as the 1740s suggest fruitful areas of research for scholars interested in Christian traces in Nubian culture. 

Christianity and the Garamantes

One topic we hope archaeologists could potentially answer is the possible conversion of the Garamantes to Christianity in the 6th century. We know of at least 4 or 5 6th century sources that refer to Christianity among the Garamantes or with their neighbors, although the most direct source is John of Biclar. John of Biclar, whose chronicle mentioned Garamantian envoys to the Byzantines requesting peace and to become questions, gives a date of 568 or so. However, earlier references in the 6th century hint at a Christian presence among the Garamantes or their neighbors. For instance, Cosmas Indicopleustes, the famous 6th century traveler who is an important source on Aksum during this period, alluded to the land of the Garamantes as one that included churches. 

While Cosmas Indicopleustes may have writing rhetorically to suggest how universal Christianity was, it is interesting that he wrote around 550, several years before the Garamantes sent a delegation to the Byzantine Empire (to the coast or Constantinople?). In addition to these aforementioned writers, Procopius, whose Buildings includes a section on churches and construction in Libya and North Africa during the reign of Justinian. Like the others, Procopius  was writing around the middle of the 6th century, and according to him, the Byzantine Empire promoted Christianity in Ghadames, Augila (including a church for the Mother of God), and among various Berber peoples like the Gadabitani. He rebuilt and refortified cities like Leptis Magna, where he also constructed a chapel in honor of Mary. 

One more 6th century writer of the Roman Empire also alluded, indirectly, to the Garamantes. In his epic on the campaigns of John against the Berbers, Corripus wrote that neighbors of the Garamantes (Nasamonians) were part of the Berber alliance that attacked John. The genre and type of reference used by Corripus here is probably exaggerating the number and diversity of Berber foes John Troglita fought to portray him as a more heroic figure. Nonetheless, we know from earlier incidents that the Garamantes did occasionally participate or join in raids against the Romans on the coast of Libya in earlier centuries. If the Garamantes or their neighbors were involved in the conflict with John Troglita, perhaps it helps explain why they were seeking peace with the Byzantines by 568?

Additional references to the Garamantes in relation to Vandal North Africa (epigrams of Luxorius which reference Garamantes and their dark skin) and the Mediterranean can be found. And The Archaeology of the Fazzan series found evidence of ongoing trade and exchange with the Mediterranean at Garamante sites. However, no evidence of a church has been found at the capital of the Garamantes or any other site. In fact, archaeologists found evidence for the persistence of use of pagan temples. Indeed, Islam itself does not appear to have spread in the capital of the Garamantes for a few centuries after Uqba b. Nafi attacked Garama. Brunschevig also cited evidence that suggests the Fazzanis were pagans in the late 700s. So, what happened? Was Christianization of the Garamantes real or did the distance and realities of Byzantine rule in coastal Libya make it an ineffective mission? Or was the Fazzan already fragmented with a state or chiefdom based at Waddan and, perhaps, Zawila, the real centers of the Fazzan who were more likely to have received an actual church? Was Knut Vikor's theory correct about Qasr Umm Isa in Kawar being Jado (Djado)? If so, perhaps the place name is a testament to that era of 6th century Christian expansion, though we lack any evidence that the Kawar site ever hosted Christians. Besides this speculative theory, references in the early Arabic sources to Egyptians and Rum on an oasis route that connected Egypt to areas of the western Sudan may hint at contacts with Copts and Byzantines in the desert via Fazzan and Kawar. 

Old Nubian Miracle of St. Menas

A nice overview of a medieval Old Nubian text, The Miracle of St. Mena. Although the text is short, the message of the work must have meant something to a medieval Nubian audience and readers. One thing that stood out to us was the failure of the boatman or sailor to do his part by taking the egg to the church of St. Mena. By not doing what he promised, he made it harder for the woman to accept Christianity and convert. One can see the relationship between fertility or having children and Christian devotion was also relevant here, bringing to mind a Coptic custom which involved using a relic of a saint's body in the Nile to ensure it will flood. So, the unnamed woman here, eager to have children, turns to the St. Mena and Christianity and finds herself, her servants, and her livestock producing many children. The other intriguing thing about this short the depiction of St. Mena as a warrior, possibly a sign of the appeal of such saints to Medieval Nubia. 

Ethiopia and Alexandria

Stuart C. Munro-Hay's Ethiopia and Alexandria: The Metropolitan Episcopacy of Ethiopia is perhaps somewhat dated but an interesting read. Focusing on relations between the Patriarchate of Alexandria and the Aksumite (then the Zagwe and Solomonic Dynasties) kingdom from Frumentius in the 4th century to Amda Tseyon in the 14th century, Munro-Hay's study illustrates how important our sources on the Patriarchs of Alexandria are for reconstructing Ethiopian (and Nubian) history. While much of the period covered in this book are well-trod and familiar to anyone interested in Aksumite and medieval Ethiopian history, the emphasis on Alexandria's connection to Abyssinia provides a different focus for one of the remarkable relationships of Christian history. Indeed, the very relocation of the Patriarchate of Alexandria to Cairo was, in part, motivated by the easier communication with Nubia and Ethiopia. Moreover, the chronicles and other Coptic, Syriac, Arabic, Greek and Ge'ez sources highlight the international role of the patriarchs as a major force in Egyptian relations with Nubia and Ethiopia during after the Muslim conquest of Egypt. 

Unfortunately, some of the gaps in our knowledge of the later centuries of the Aksumite king and the paucity of clear data and chronologies on the transition from the Aksumite rulers to the Zagwe dynasy are not clarified by the familiar sources on the Coptic Church. Nonetheless, the sources on the patriarchs, the metropolitans they appointed for Ethiopia, and correspondence between Egyptian and Abyssinian rulers do seem to confirm the chronology of the Zagwe dynasty favored by Munro-Hay. Nonetheless,Munro-Hay had to rely on speculation for some of the possible omissions of metropolitans in Ethiopia, the melkite and Jacobite metropolitans, and the legends of Gudit, late Aksumite kings lists, and Ethiopian relations with the Nubian kingdoms. Indeed, it is the relatively unknown nature of relations between the Nubian statea of Makuria and Alwa with Abyssinia that are most interesting. 

While Solomonic rulers like Yekuno Amlak and his son corresponded with the Mamluk sultans of Egypt via a Yemeni ruler as an intermediary, the land route to Egypt, via the Nubians, was an important route. Numerous envoys, metropolitans, and traders traveled through the route, but Nubian-Ethiopian relations are sadly still a topic of conjecture. Makuria and Alwa were also in the position of having local bishops or metropolitans, with the confirmation by the patriarch in Egypt. Surely, one would think Aksumite and later Ethiopian rulers would have also attempted to force the Coptic Church to recognize local metropolitans, too. Yet despite this, the Ethiopian rulers remained dependent on Alexandria to appoint metropolitans who, in turn, ensured local bishops and clergy could be created. In fact, Nubia appeared. to have played a supportive role in helping Abyssinia regain the favor of Alexandria while both Northeast African Christian regions also saw themselves as supporters of the Christian communities of Egypt. In fact, a perhaps large number of Copts even fled to Nubia and Ethiopia to escape Muslim persecutions 

Walatta Petros

This is a nice video on a remarkable Ethiopian woman. Due to our ongoing interests in Ethiopia and the Jesuits, the hagiographical literature on Walatta Petros is a fascinating text to tackle.

Jesuit Missionary Strategies in Ethiopia

Although we are still only beginning to grapple with the large body of literature on the Jesuits in Ethiopia, Cohen's Missionary Strategies of the Jesuits in Ethiopia (1555-1632) is a good overview on Jesuit strategies of evangelizing. Based on Portuguese, Jesuit, and Ethiopian sources, Cohen succeeds in demonstrating the key areas of religious, political, cultural, and theological contention and proselytization. Unlike other areas of Africa, Asia, or the Americas, the Jesuits perceived Ethiopia to be more "civilized" (like China and Japan) and an area of schismatic Christianity in need of reformation. For these reasons, the Jesuits employed sophisticated techniques of Christological debate, biblical exegesis, translation, theater, architectonics, and top-down evangelization based on the hopes of converting the emperor and nobility. The Catholic Counter-Reformation also influenced the Jesuit mission as a reformed Church sought to standardize rituals, centralize authority, and counter Protestant theological debate. 

Ethiopian Christianity's encounter with Roman Catholicism naturally led to conflict, evolution, and the discovery of shared commonalities. Jesuits, for instance, realized the Ethiopian Church drew from the same sources (the Bible, patristic literature). Both also shared a similar belief in the uses of icons and visual arts and the practice of Eucharist and baptism. Nonetheless, Ethiopian persistence in circumcision, anti-Chalcedonian perspectives, adherence to the Alexandrian See, lack of uniformity in some sacraments, observance of the Sabbath, and frequency of divorce revealed huge differences. The debate between the two Churches appears to have played a major role in fomenting Ethiopian religious literature that sought to clarify and define the tenets of the church. Some of this literature was clearly influenced by earlier Ge'ez translations of Church Fathers, and appears to have influenced subsequent internal theological debate within the Ethiopian Christian tradition. The Jesuit debate with local clergy and monks reminds us of their arguments with Buddhist priests in Japan. 

However, according to Cohen, the Jesuits did not properly prepare themselves for the centrifugal forces in Ethiopian Christianity which opposed them, particularly monastic clergy, members of the nobility, and the political crises and rebellions which forced Susenyos to restore freedom of worship. The near total conquest by Muslims in the 1500s had further fragmented the Church while ongoing Oromo expansion further weakened the authority of the Solomonic emperors. Perhaps seeing the absolutizing tendencies of the Jesuits as something that could strengthen their authority, Za Dengel and Susenyos favored the Jesuits. Unfortunately for the latter, Za Dengel's assassination and the inability of Susenyos to end revolts flight of hermits or monks, and stifle resistance to the prohibitions imposed on the Orthodox faith entailed an end of the mission when the political support from the top disappeared under the next emperor. Anyway, it looks like our next read into this topic will have to be either Caraman, the short work coauthored by Merid Wolde Aregay or the hagiography of Walatta Petros. 

The Kongolese Saint Anthony

Although the Kingdom of Kongo is far removed from Kanem-Borno, Sudanic Africa, or Solomonic Ethiopia, we felt it would be interesting to include at this blog a short piece on Thornton's study of a religious movement led by a Kongolese woman. Kongolese Christianity is of course quite different than our interests in Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity or the tale of Roman Catholicism in West Central Africa, but perhaps of interest for another African historical state's engagement with the faith. 

Although I am usually a fan of John K. Thornton's work, The Kongolese Saint Anthony: Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita and the Antonian Movement, 1684-1706 was a dry text full of academic jargon and very little of it pertained to the Antonian movement led by Dona Beatriz. It was focused more on the context of the Antonian movement and the political crisis of the decentralized Kongo kingdom than anything else, with lots of useful details about the depths to which Catholic ideology and rituals were commonly practiced, even in regions with few priests. Thornton also does an excellent job describing everyday life, urban life, the Kimpasi secret society, some of the ravages of the slave trade (as well as how the Bobangi formed their own secret society based on restoring the ethical harm of their slave trading activities), Kongolese relations with the Portuguese and other Europeans, and the high degree of religious syncretism with a longer tradition of syncretistic messianic movements.

However, the text was really not about the Antonian movement and its inspiring leader, Dona Beatriz, who wished to restore the Kongo kingdom and claimed to be possessed by Saint Anthony. Furthermore, Thornton, partly out of necessity and the limits of historical knowledge at this time, is heavily reliant on textual sources left by Capuchin missionaries and other Europeans, who, disliked Dona Beatriz and used European cultural lens to denigrate spirit possession as demonic. Thus, we have a text that relies on some biased and inaccurate (and incomplete) sources, very dry writing that waxes endlessly about the political intrigue and conflict among Kongolese elites to claim the throne, and does not focus on the Antonian movement as a whole. Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy large sections of the text, particularly those referring to culture, art, religious syncretism, and some of the 'everyday life' details of late 17th century and early 18th century West Central Africa. Unfortunately, I am not entirely sure if I 'buy' Thornton's interpretation of the Antonian movement and its role in the political crisis of the fragmented Kongo state. As several reviewers have stated, there are many problems with some of the sources Thornton relies on, the structure of the book and how it marginalizes the very woman it should focus on, an avoidance of the 'fluid gender performances' of Dona Beatriz's possession by Saint Anthony, and the more complex topic of "Kongo" proto-nationalism, which seems to be relevant.

Nevertheless, the book is a useful and necessary quick read for all those interested in a detailed account of some aspects of the Antonian movement. A more interdisciplinary account that included art, gender, anthropological sources, and how the Antonian movement was internally structured (for instance, Thornton states that Beatriz's movement spread from her original home and the ancient capital through 'mini-Saint Antony's, or, some of her followers who supposedly carried her message throughout the kingdom and attracted peasant followers) would have made this book great.

"Blackness" in Early Christianity

We perused Gay L. Byron's Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature. The book was too short to properly address some of the deeper questions of race and 'blackness' in early Christian discourse. However, Byron's strength lies in challenging some of the previous assertions about notable cases of 'blacks' in patristic writings, exegesis, Biblical passions and commentary, and monastic writings based on the desert fathers of  Egypt. Any discussion of early Christianity and "blackness" raises a number of interesting questions about the history of the religion, its relation to the Roman Empire, Antiquity, and, hopefully, the actual "black" Christians in northeast Africa (Nubia, Aksum) or beyond. The implications of this will reverberate in more recent centuries of evangelization and conversion in Africa 

First, one must ascertain whether one agrees with the collective 'black' group of Egypt and Ethiopia for analyzing the discourse on race, color, and ethnic difference in ethno-political rhetoric of early Christianity. Some, for instance, might take issue with Byron's inclusion of Egyptians as 'black.' One can see see why one would, particularly given a later chapter's focus on how monastic communities in Roman Egypt distanced themselves from "Ethiopians" (Ethiopians in this context refers to dark-skinned people from Africa, not necessarily modern Ethiopia). However, if one remembers that blackness can be broad and reads the Greco-Roman and Christian sources, one could find numerous examples of pre-Christian Greco-Roman literature and Christian writings that refer to Egyptians as "blacks" or associate them (alongside Ethiopians) with ethno-political rhetoric that clearly lumps them as a collective 'black group.' In that sense, I concur with Byron including Egypt as part of this trend in Greco-Roman literature around the Mediterranean, because we have examples from Herodotus, Aristotle, a plethora of Greco-Roman writers, Greek Alexandrians, and Christian references that clearly distinguish Egyptians from a presumably 'white' or intermediary color non-Egyptian peoples of the circum-Mediterranean used to refer to themselves (if Suetonius can compare Egyptians and Ethiopians to demons and emblems of darkness, clearly both groups were perceived as 'black' to some degree).

Upon establishing the veracity of Byron's categorizations, one can assess the remainder of her claims. She is certainly well-read in the necessary secondary sources on Greco-Roman and Christian views of blackness in Late Antiquity (she's clearly read Thompson, Brakke, Snowden, and a myriad of other classicists and specialists). Undoubtedly, negative views of blackness in the Greco-Roman world proliferated throughout the Mediterranean and shaped how Christian and Jewish communities perceived dark-skinned people, too. Indeed, as Thompson and others have established, Greco-Roman views of "blacks" (be they Egyptian, Ethiopian, or black, melas) as representatives of the extreme ends of the earth, blackness equated with immorality, lust, and evil, or ugliness and the use of color symbolism to associate blackness with moral inferiority, criminality, unpleasant odors, and other stereotypes influenced patristic literature and Christian thought. Indeed, as Byron intriguingly demonstrates, native Egyptians in Roman Egypt were marginalized, excluded from Roman citizenship, and elite Jews, Romans, and Greeks living in Alexandria all adopted a condescending and superior attitude to Egyptians. Furthermore, Egyptians were equated with geographical extremity, mythic idealization, described as dark-skinned or black, and equated with evil, heresy, and sin by Jewish and early Christian communities. These numerous parallels with pejorative and negative views of Ethiopians by Greco-Roman figures from Juvenal to the Church Fathers with views of Egyptians certainly helps make the case for viewing them as a whole rather than separate groups in relation to lighter-skinned Greeks, Romans, and Near Eastern populations.

Let's look at Byron's take on some examples of Christian adoption and adaptation of broader Roman views of blackness and how that shaped Christianity. For instance, the use of blackness, Ethiopians, and Egyptians as polemical devices in the work of Tertullian, who used the notion of Egypt and Ethiopia as sinful lands to discourage Christians from attending spectacles (or other events popular among pagans in the Roman Empire). Writers such as Jerome refer to Ethiopians as 'blackened' by their sins while Origen looks at the black bride in Song of Songs as a metaphor for the Gentile Church, which, becomes beautiful and white through conversion and baptism. So ethno-political rhetoric of Christian authors could reflect poorly on blacks as sinful, heretics such as the Arianist or Nestorian 'heresies,' and lustful as in the stories of Egyptian monastic communities and their fear of Ethiopian demons symbolizing lust and temptation. Or "blacks" could be used (Egyptians, Ethiopians, and blackness) to express the inclusive, universal extent of Christian salvation (such as in the works of Augustine, Origen, or even the stories of Moses the Black in Upper Egyptian monastic communities). This is not too surprising, and something observable in non-Christian Greco-Roman literature (Pliny and a few others write positively of blacks, despite the difference in what Thompson refers to as black deviance from the somatic norm of the Roman world).

Where it differs, however, is in how Christianity was, by its very nature, inevitably tied to the idea of universal salvation through the proselytizing efforts of early Christians such as Paul. Blacks could assimilate in the Roman world (such as, perhaps, the writer, Terence, of Carthage), just as in Christianity ('blacks' in Egyptian monasteries or Egyptian Christians themselves were proof of black inclusion, as were the tales of the Ethiopian eunuch from Acts 8:26). Christianity's radical equalizing message about the disappearance of status, ethnic difference, and slave or free in the eyes of God, however, was a far more egalitarian message than anything found among the pagan elite of the Roman Empire. If differences such as Gentile or Jew, Scythian or barbarian, slave or free, ultimately did not matter before Christ, Christianity offered a far more fulfilling and welcoming space for ethnic difference than it is given credit for. Of course, rhetoric is different from reality, and clearly social divisions within Christian communities based on ethnic difference, class, and status shaped the evolution of the faith (and it's numerous heresies, divisive church councils, etc.), as one would expect. But the promise of universalism and Christian redemption meant even the blackest of Ethiopians could be washed 'white' or have a 'white soul' if they accept Christianity.

Thus, despite some ugly color symbolism and discomforting ethno-political rhetoric, it is known for certain that some Christian writers did not mean literal 'black' populations when using Ethiopians, Egyptians, and blackness as metaphors for sinfulness, lust, or demons. It nevertheless can be used to suggest blackness is demonic or aesthetically inferior, but as Origen's commentary on the black bride shows, Christianity was 'black' in its early years but purified and washed white by orthodox, non-heretical practices and inclusiveness. If even the blackest Ethiopians and whitest Scythians were eligible for redemption, then all corners of the oikumene and everything in between are welcomed to Christian fraternity. Now, what we wish Byron had demonstrated in these chapters is a dedication to unveiling the etymology of blackness as a sign of moral shortcomings and evil in the Christian context. Did this just arise from Zoroastrianism and previous religions, or perhaps something embedded in ancient religious thought (an association of blackness with evil, moral darkness, and ugliness?). Of course, we know that in ancient Egypt blackness was associated with fertility and divinity, but how did the predominantly "anti-black" view of darkness spread in the Roman world?

We also believe Byron's work was weakened by a lack of attention to the question of Egyptian perceptions of their southern neighbors during the Christian era. Or a better answer as to the composition of many of the monastic communities of Egypt (where these 'desert fathers' fostered the model for Christian monasticism that would later spread to the 'West') instead of saying some were lowly Copts at the bottom of Egyptian society whereas others were Hellenized elites. The cosmopolitan, unstable, and multiethnic Upper Egypt-Nubia border deserves a more detailed description and overview to properly place Egyptian views of 'blackness' in Late Antiquity in the proper context. Byron is probably right that the violent raids and burglaries committed by invading Blemmyes and other 'black' peoples ransacking Upper Egypt in the late Roman period shaped the later recordings of stories attributed to monks of facing temptation and danger from "Ethiopian demons." What was the 'racial climate' of Roman Egypt during this period of Blemmyes' and Nubian military threat? Clearly the situation on the ground was more complex as some Nubians continued to worship the old gods like Isis at the temple at Philae, while others would adopt Christianity or even join the monks! How can one accurately describe Egyptians using ethno-political rhetoric in Christian writings against other dark-skinned people? Was this an instance of "defensive othering" on the part of Egyptians? Of course, the question of malodorous black women tempting Egyptian monks speaks more to their attraction to black women (though women were rare and all generalized as the embodiment of physical pleasure and lust by monks), but the question of gender dynamics and self-denigration of blacks to be fully incorporated (Moses the Black was taunted, insulted, and mocked for the color of his skin to test virtues of a monk, such as apathy and patience), suggests pejorative connotations of "blackness" in society. Stories of Anthony and Moses the Black were not recorded until decades or centuries after the historical figures lived, but it provides some insight onto how ethno-political discourse used the political and social realities of the day to frame "blackness" in Christian Egypt. 

Overall, Byron's text is thought-provoking and a worthwhile read, but too brief. It avoids answering some larger questions. Byron had no interest in psychoanalysis of some of these patristic writers or other classical sources, but more inclusion of psychoanalysis and theories of race or ethnic difference would have added more nuance to the discussion. A fuller discussion of 'race' in the Nile Valley, specifically mention of Nubian Christianity, and Aksumite conversion to the faith would have some important implications for the theory of ethnopolitical rhetorical discourse and "blackness" in a Late Antique and "medieval" context. That is the next frontier, a fuller and more integrative look at African Christianity in Nubia, and Ethiopia, which could shed light on how those territories embraced, adapted, adopted, or rejected the symbolic "blackness" of early Christianity. Another question, how pervasive were elite Roman and Greek views of 'blackness' in Egypt then? Was there a trickle down effect of certain color symbolism and stereotypes ideologically throughout the expanding Christian world?

The Monastic Holy Man and Early Solomonic Ethiopia

In our current quest to read as much as possible on Ethiopian history, with an emphasis on the Solomonic dynasty, we found Kaplan's The Monastic Holy Man and the Christianization of Early Solomonic Ethiopia to be a very readable overview and analysis. Drawing mostly from the hagiographical literature, Kaplan endeavors to elucidate the rise, function and socio-political context of the holy man. As in the case of Peter Brown's study of the Christian holy man, Kaplan finds some commonalities. However, the distinct origins of Christianity in Ethiopia in the Aksumite period, particularly its top-down origins, and the limitations faced by its Church, led to some important differences. This is perhaps most evident in the Ethiopian Church's dependence on Alexandria, and the lack of interest in evangelization shown by the Egyptian bishops and most of the Solomonic dynasts (except for Zara Yaeqob). 

Although monasticism and saints in the Ethiopian tradition predate the Solomonic "restoration" of 1270, Kaplan argues that the reigning dynasty created conditions favorable for monasticism. Local or provincial nobles who would have remained in political office gradually shifted to a religious vocation as heads of monastic communities in order to retain their power or authority in the face of an expanding Solomonic state, especially during the consolidation of the state under Amda Seyon. While Solomonic rulers supported monastic communities through gult lands and gifts, Kaplan's study suggests the monastic holy men, who were mostly from noble families, would have been partly pushed to monastic life in order to preserve their noble prerogatives as abbots. These abbots, who came from noble families and then received gult in some cases, often ran their gult in a similar manner as the provincial nobility or chiefs. While some holy men were not abbots, the vast majority in the hagiographical literature were heads of monastic communities. 

Some "houses" periodically entered into conflict with the Solomonic dynasty over doctrinal issues or the royal government's attempts to control the Church. Yet the noble origins of the monastic holy man and his frequent involvement with the state's military (through prayer and predictions) led to constant relations. Indeed, the holy man came to be a mediator between the government and the masses, just as he served a similar function as the intermediary of the Christian believers and God. The holy man likewise served as healer, tamer of wild beasts, exorcist, and missionary, spreading the Gospel to pagan or Muslim subject peoples. Unsurprisingly, the monastic holy man often became an important figure based on the variety of his services, connections to powerful people, leadership, and spiritual or religious power. Our hagiographical literature reflects this, and since they were initially written to glorify a saint, often contain numerous miracles or stories meant to enhance the stature of the holy man as an almost angelic being. 

Unfortunately, as missionaries, they usually failed to deeply plant the seed of Christian belief. Their ability to gain adherents to the faith was often through showing the superiority of Christianity in magic rituals or, in some cases, through political advantages Christianity presented to pagan secular leaders eager to limit or remove the religious leadership they shared their authority with. This might help explain why the Muslim invasions of the 16th century were often able to quickly convert parts of Ethiopia, since their Christianization never supplanted their previous traditional religious worldview. Nor were converts necessarily deeply imbued with Christian doctrine or belief. Of course, the lack of support for evangelization from the Solomonic state and Alexandria placed severe limitations on what the monastic centers could accomplish. Without an adequately trained clergy in sufficient numbers, Christianization of the empire was necessarily limited.

In spite of its brevity, and the problematic nature of the sources (though often validated by other traditions, chronicles, or sources), anyone interested in monasticism in Ethiopia or Christianity should read this. It helps us gain a better understanding of exactly who the monks and clerical leadership were in Ethiopia. Moreover, it helps to create a clearer picture of what happened on the ground as Christianity expanded beyond the traditional core of the Aksumite and Zagwe kingdoms. We think a possible comparison could be made with the ulama and the state in Borno or the mallam and the holy man. Perhaps there are similarities between the two beyond the superficial, and in spite of the differences between Christianity and Islam. 

Medieval Ethiopian Diplomacy

After reading about the Jesuits in Ethiopia, it made sense to go back a little further in time to understand relations between Solomonic Ethiopia and Latin Europe in the Middle Ages. Medieval Ethiopian Kingship, Craft, and Diplomacy with Latin Europe by Verena Krebs is a good place to start since it focuses on a period from c.1402 to the 1520s, a period before the calamitous invasions of Ahmad Gran. Arguing against the grain of past scholarship which has emphasized Ethiopian interest in military alliances or "superior" European technology, Krebs focuses on the various diplomatic missions from Ethiopia as examples of Solomonic kingship and prestige. No clear interest from the Ethiopian side in a military alliance with Rome or Aragon or Portugal emerges until the 1500s, in an era of millenarian prophecies, Ottoman expansion, and Adal incursions. 

Nor were Ethiopians necessarily interested in European "technology" per se. According to Krebs, Solomonic rulers were instead primarily interested in acquiring relics, ecclesiastical items such as chalices or vestments, and master craftsmen associated with construction. While one could argue that these craftsmen represented an aspect of European "technology" through their assumed superiority as builders, masons, carpenters, or smiths, Solomonic interest in their skills was associated with the ambitious royal churches, chapels, and monasteries constructed throughout the highlands. Solomonic dynasts saw the construction of stone churches decorated with luxurious imports from abroad as a way to strengthen their authority, prestige, and continue the legacy of the Biblical Solomon, their purported ancestor. 

Krebs is quite persuasive and reanalyzes some of the same textual sources used by other historians to demonstrate how Solomonic diplomacy with the Latin "West" was based on their own terms. Instead of seeing Christian Ethiopian as a passive recipient of Western technology or diplomatic initiatives, it was, beginning with Dawit and ending with Lebna Dengel, a largely Ethiopian initiative to acquire relics, religious paraphernalia and skilled artisans to boost their power. One is tempted to see an example of possible Solomonic adoption of architectonics of Western or foreign origin as an additional source of power through ecclesiastical power, something visible in the Jesuit-era churches, yet Krebs points to several examples of local churches that followed earlier Ethiopian precedents or influences. So Solomonic relations with Rome, Venice, Aragon, or Portugal should not be seen as one of European technological superiority motivating Ethiopian diplomacy but properly contextualized in the nature of the highland state. In fact, it was usually European perceptions of Ethiopia or Prester John's might and ability to divert the Nile that interested the papacy or European courts in establishing relations. Unfortunately for them, relations were not consistently maintained and later Solomonic rulers sent fewer envoys to Europe in the later period covered in this study. 

One wonders where and how Christian Nubia fit into this period of Ethiopian and Latin European relations. Mamluk Egypt was unavoidable as an land passed through by Ethiopians and Europeans in the period, but what about Nubia? The kingdom of Dotawo was still relevant and perhaps future scholarship can shed light on an interest in the Crusades from Nubia that was absent in the Solomonic state. Some of the medieval sources demonstrate knowledge of Ethiopian geography, languages, and the regional political climate. Nubia, on the other hand, appears to have been little known or a terra incognita, in spite of European contacts with Nubian kingdoms in the Middle Ages. 

Church and State in Medieval Ethiopia

Due to its central importance as a key study of medieval Ethiopian history, we finally read Taddesse Tamrat's important study. While definitely reflecting some of the older biases in the scholarship on ancient Ethiopia, particularly the role of speakers of Semitic languages from South Arabia as civilizing agents, it remains a definitive study of the early centuries of the Solomonic dynasty. Indeed, Tamrat's work demonstrates how effective hagiographical literature from the region can be for reconstructing the distant past. These sources of course have their limitations and raise additional problems, but Tamrat seems judicious and capable of parsing the likely and factual information from them to form a coherent historical narrative of Church-State relations. In addition to hagiographies, Ethiopian land grants, royal chronicles, and external Arabic and European sources, Tamrat occasionally uses local traditions to shed further light on the contours of the Solomonic state's development.

Tamrat's study basically outlines the development of the Solomonic dynasty from 1270 until the period before Ahmad Gragn nearly defeated the Solomonic rulers of the Christian state. Beginning with the somewhat dated overview of Aksumite origins and Christianity in the region through the Zagwe dynasty, Tamrat proceeds to cover the next few centuries. Territorial expansion under the Solomonic rulers, particularly Amda-Seyon, favored the resurgence and growth of monastic communities, evangelization of some conquered peoples, an efflorescence of Ethiopian literature, and the Christian kingdom becoming the dominant power in the region. Already one can see Ethiopian Christianity diverging from the Coptic Church, especially over the issue of observance of the Sabbath (seen as a Jewish custom by the Patriarchs in Alexandria). 

Religious differences within the Ethiopian Christian community, conflicts with pagan and Muslim neighbors and subjects, and complications with Muslim rulers of Egypt and Alexandria all illustrate how Ethiopian Christianity was never isolated or removed from the fate of the state. Thus, under strong rulers like Zara Yaqob, the Church was unified and the force of the government assisted monastic communities, the spread of churches, and even Ethiopian communication with Christian Europe. Unfortunately, the problems of succession, the dependence on the Egyptian bishop to ordain local priests, Muslim expansion under Adal, and the failure to integrate subjugated "pagan" and Muslims paved the path to the near disintegration of the Empire in the 1500s.

In some respects, the Solomonic dynasty reminds this blog of our favorite African imperial line, the Sayfawa. Although obviously distinct as one was Muslim and the other Christian, both lasted for several centuries. Both experienced periods of decline, civil war, succession crises, conflicts with "pagan" neighbors (and, according to some sources, "Christian Kwararafa" or Christian "Gaoga" opposed the Sayfawa), and a strong association with their official religions. Indeed, studies of the ulama and Islam in Kanem-Borno illustrate a similar close association between the ruling house and their monotheistic religion. Of course, the surviving written sources from Ethiopia significantly outnumber what we have for Kanem-Borno, but one wonders to what extent a comparative perspective on the two dynasties might reveal for African precolonial political longevity, religion, intellectual development, or even statecraft. Naturally, the Horn of Africa was better known to the outside world at an earlier date than the Lake Chad Basin, but we still think there is something to be said for contextualizing the development of these long-lasting dynasties in a "Sudanic" context.