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figure 1
figure 2
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The history of the monastery that we see today began in the sixth
century when the emperor Justinian fortified the monastic community
at the site of the Burning Bush, which Egeria described as “at the head
of the valley with the church and all the cells” (Wilkinson, Egeria's
Travels,
112). Historical sources report that the monastery was originally
dedicated to the Theotokos or the Mother of God. Iconography developed
at the monastery joined the image of the Virgin with the Burning
Bush, creating an iconographic type known as the Theotokos tou Batou.
In the Christian exegetical tradition, the Burning Bush is seen
as a prefiguration of the Virgin, who, like the Burning Bush, was
consumed by the divine without being destroyed. The church, dedicated
to the Transfiguration, stands to the far northern side of the
trapezoidal enclosure. While the church is perfectly oriented to
the east, the walls, made of cut granite blocks with rubble fill, run parallel
to the contour lines of the wadi, or valley. Walking around the
walls, which are about two meters thick and rise high above the wadi floor,
the complex does feel like an impenetrable fortress. On the southern
side of the monastery, a series of decorative lintels carved with the Triumphant
Cross seems entirely appropriate for a site that traces its mythic
roots to Helena, who is credited with the discovery of the True Cross, and
was built by Justinian, who fashioned himself as the restorer of Constantine’s
Christian empire. Looking at the walls, clusters of small, narrow
windows catch the eye. These are likely indications of the original placement
of the monks’ cells,
which do not survive. Although the narrow slits would not have
admitted much light, they would have provided protection from marauders.
Light would have been admitted from larger windows or doors that
faced the interior of the monastery (Grossmann, 186).
On the west
side, a grand double entrance, topped by a flat arch with decorative roundels
on either side, was the original entrance. It has since been walled up. A
smaller entrance is located to the left (Forsyth, 7). This gate is not
original, although the wooden door, covered with thick bands of iron, has been
dated by dendrochronological analysis to the twelfth century. Behind
this door, an arched passage leads to a sixth-century wooden door, which opens
onto the monastery’s enclosure (Grossmann, 184).
Passing
through the gate, you enter a small courtyard, which gives way to a series
of covered passages directing you to the church, sitting about
four meters below ground level. The outcrops of rock nearby suggest that
the church was deliberately sunk below the level of the monastery’s entrance.
A flight of steps leads down to the church, while the eye is forced up the
height of the gabled facade, which is higher than the ridge of the roof, giving
the building a monumentality it would otherwise lack in such close surroundings. |
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