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In a seminal study, Cur cantatur?, Anders Ekenberg examined Carolingian sources for explanations of why the liturgy was sung, rather than spoken. This multidisciplinary volume takes up Ekenberg’s question anew, investigating the interplay of New Testament writings, sacred spaces, biblical interpretation, and reception history of liturgical practices and traditions. Analyses of Greek, Latin, Coptic, Arabic, and Gǝʿǝz sources, as well as of archaeological and epigraphic evidence, illuminate an array of topics, including recent trends in liturgical studies; manuscript variants and liturgical praxis; Ignatius of Antioch’s choral metaphor; baptism in ancient Christian apocrypha; and the significance of late ancient altar veils.

Pope Gregory the Great (s. 590-604) wrote two letters to Bishop Serenus of Marseilles, reproaching his acts of iconoclasm that had led to schism in his community. These short documents are considered to contain Gregory's theory of art as a book for the illiterate and have been criticized for destroying the aura of sacred art to all subsequent Western developments. Here, I argue that the pope's fundamental contribution is to offer instead a theory of iconoclasm. Relying on previous ideas about the pedagogical and communicative power of art and its ability to reach a larger audience beyond the elite, Gregory defends the rights of the community of 'gentiles and illiterates' who find in portable painted panels an expression of their identity in the church at Marseilles. Serenus's wish to impose a superior orthodoxy on the pious if incorrect habits of his flock cannot justify his resorting to iconoclasm. The pope's vigorous condemnation protects the vulnerable minority and sets an important precedent against any acts of iconoclasm in the West.

The eleventh-century psalter Vat. gr. 752 has four images of saints on pillars, of which only two are of a well-known stylite saint, St Simeon the Elder, while the other two are attributed to Saint Dositheos and Saint Silvester respectively. By examining the miniatures in the context provided by their captions and references to psalm verses, I argue that the identification of the non-stylite saints is accurate, and that therefore there must be a different reason for their being represented on pillars than that of a mistake by the artist or scribe. Through significant comparanda from the iconography of stylites and the representations of some scenes on the Genoa mandylion, I suggest that these non-stylite stylites, and by extension also the images of Simeon, break the adherence of the figuration of saints according to their Lives, and instead present us with representations of monuments to these saints, specifically, as busts on pillars, whether at shrines within churches or as street shrines. This iconography encapsulates the legitimacy of saints’ cult and intercession, witnessing to what is perhaps the most ancient form of iconography for saints, as reported by Theodoret for Simeon the Elder.

This paper reads Psellos’ Oration to the Archangel Michael as a pointed political piece couched as a pious sermon about Christian miracles. It argues that, under the narrative of the theft of the “holy cross” from the shrine at Sykeon, Psellos veils a reference to a contemporary event, namely, the rebellion of Roussel of Bailleul against Michael VII. The aim of the oration is to restore credibility to the monastic community after their misplaced support of the Norman rebel. The allusion is constructed rhetorically through an elaborate etiology for the monastery, combining the dedication to the Archangel with the True Cross through the agency of Emperor Heraklios. This unexpected reference to the precious relic has so far gone unnoticed.

Looking at the marginal drawings in some manuscripts from the region of Otranto, in Southern Italy, this paper presents their choice of subjects, both animal and human, and tells the story of their interconnectedness. Echoes between similar designs strengthen the hypothesis that these manuscripts belonged to or gravitated around the theological school at Aradeo, whether their contents were sacred or classical texts. These drawings reveal the pious inclinations of these medieval readers, together with their skills at sketching both portraits and fantastic beasts.

The installation by Bill Viola, Martyrs, depicts four suffering individuals without showing any outward pain. The onslaught of the four elements makes them victims, but their calm acceptance of their fate and unruffled composure raises the question of what, if anything, the viewer is meant to experience. Through some contemporary commentators, I raise the questions of Viola's choice of depicting a gore-less martyrdom and its effects. By retracing both the elemental aspects and the concept of painlessness in Christian writings, I attribute Viola's choice not only to a syncretistic outlook but also to a strand of representation compatible with a Christian world-view. Nevertheless, differences remain, and the question of whether real suffering can be depicted without outward signs is key for understanding the evolution of a medieval aesthetics, as well as for appreciating Viola's modern take on death.