History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma E-Book

Pier Giorgio Borbone

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Wissenschaft und neue Technologien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 870

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

This book tells a story of serendipity. Two Christian monks left China about 1274, headed to Jerusalem. Travelling on an itinerary similar to that Marco Polo had taken, they reached Iran, ruled by a Mongol dynasty, the Ilkhans. There, what they never had expected happened: one of them, Mark by name, was elected Patriarch of the Church of the East (with the name Yahballaha), while the other, Rabban Sauma, was sent as ambassador to the pope and the courts of France and England by the Mongol Ilkhan Arghun. From Rabban Sauma's report of his embassy, and the two monk's memories of their journey from China to Mesopotamia, an anonymous author compiled a biography of Sauma and Mark. He interspersed their report and memories with a narrative about "the occurrences of their time - what happened to them, through them or because of them, relating everything just as it happened". The result was a chronicle entitled "History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma", a rich and lively testimony of a time of unprecedented interconnectedness in the history of Eurasia at the epoch of the Mongol Empire.

Leseprobe

That we conduct ourselves with Dignity and Discretion, and if one of us gets into trouble the other will stay by him.

R. Kipling, The Man who Would be King

History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma

Edited, translated, and annotated by

Pier Giorgio Borbone

Translated from the Italian by

Laura E. Parodi

Verlag tredition

Hamburg 2021

© 2021 Pier Giorgio Borbone

Publisher and Printer: Tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg

ISBN 978-3-7497-1296-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-3-7497-1297-7 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-3-7497-1298-4 (eBook)

This book is published under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-No Derivatives 4.0 International license (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0) (www.creativecommons.org)

Typeset in Junicode (http://junicode.sourceforge.net/), East Syriac Adiabene, Serto Batnan, Estrangelo Nisibin Outline (http://www.bethmardutho.org/meltho/), Times Armenian, and Arabic Typesetting.

Contents

A Note to this English edition

Table of transliterations

Foreword

Introduction

A manuscript resurfaces

The text

The narrative

Dating and composition

Genre

The author

The sources

Language and style

The milieu

The Mongols in Iran

Europe and the Mongols

The Church of the East

Christians in China and Central Asia

The Syriac Text

History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma

Note to the Syriac text

Note to the translation

Prologue

Genealogy of Rabban Sauma

Genealogy of Mar Yahballaha, catholicos patriarch of the East

Rabban Sauma and Rabban Mark resolve to travel to Jerusalem

Rabban Mark is ordered metropolitan with the name Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma becomes visitor-general.

Mar Yahballaha is elected patriarch

False accusations against Mar Yahballaha in King Aḥmad’s time

Rabban Sauma’s journey to the lands of the Romans in the name of King Arghun and of the catholicos Mar Yahballaha

The journey of Rabban Sauma to the lands of the Romans

Rabban Sauma in Costantinople

Rabban Sauma in Italy and in the illustrious Rome

Rabban Sauma’s creed, as requested by the cardinals

Rabban Sauma visits Rome

Rabban Sauma travels to France

Rabban Sauma in France

Rabban Sauma before the King Ingaltar

Rabban Sauma returns to Rome

Rabban Sauma’s return journey from Rome, from the pope, catholicos patriarch of Romany and of all the Westerners

summary The good deeds of King Arghun and his death

King Geikhatu and Mar Yahballaha

Death of Rabban Sauma and of the kings Geikhatu and Baidu

Persecution of Mar Yahballaha and the Christians in Maragha

King Ghazan honours Mar Yahballaha

The residence in Maragha is looted again

Riots and fights in the citadel of Arbil

Mar Yahballaha prospers and completes the monastery in Maragha

Affection of King Ghazan towards Mar Yahballaha, and the king’s death

King Öljeitü and Mar Yahballaha

The massacre of Arbil’s Christians

Death of Mar Yahballaha

Commentary

Appendix

Life of Mar Yahballaha from the Arabic chronicle of the Patriarchs of the Church of the East

Mēmrāin honour of Mar Yahballaha

Documents concerning Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma

The arrival of the two monks form China and the election of Mar Yahballaha

The embassy of Rabban Sauma to the Kings of Europe

Mar Yahballaha at the funeral of Barhebraeus

The foundation of a church in Arghun’s camp in Armenian sources

Arghun’s letter to King Philip of France (1289)

Diplomatic note by Buscarello Ghisolfi (1289)

Arghun’s letter to the pope (1290)

Qashani’s report of the siege of Arbil

The itineraries

Lingering questions

Pilgrims or envoys of the qa’an?

Aḥmad Sulṭan and the Christians

The inauguration of the “King of Monasteries”

What the History does not say

Bibliography

Index

Illustrations

A Note to this English edition

This book represents my farewell to Rabban Sauma and Mar Yahballaha, and to their anonymous biographer, who have been my companions for a very long time.

I do not claim to have fully understood all the nuances of the Syriac narrative, and my commentary, extensive as it may appear, is far from exhaustive. Reading the Syriac text over and over, I found ever new questions I had previously neglected, requiring further and deeper inquiry. Many of those instances, I left unexplored, so that the curiosity and doctrine of others can further improve our future knowledge of the History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma and its environment.

Suggestions to have my work translated into English were put forward during a symposium on the Ilkhans held in Ulaan Baatar in May 2014. I hope the expectations of the colleagues who kindly suggested making the History available for wider readership will not be disappointed.

The arduous task of translating my Italian version of the text and the apparatus fell to Laura E. Parodi. A critical and meticulous reader, she offered valuable suggestions for improving the original version of my book, which profited from her expertise as historian of Persianate art and culture, and our mutual familiarity with the nomadic cultures of Central Asia.

Emanuela Braida contributed her English translation of the Arabic vita of Mar Yahballaha, and Wheeler M. Thackston most kindly provided his translation from the Persian of Qashani’s report of the siege of Arbil.

The English translation of the Syriac text, and those of other texts in oriental languages, were thoroughly revised to ensure they were as faithful as possible to the original. The Syriac text itself is presented in a new edition, based on a collation of all extant manuscripts. The last ten years witnessed dramatic progress in scholarship on the Mongols, the Mongol Empire, and the Ilkhans, resulting in a great number of publications presenting new documents, and above all new insights, that an outsider such as myself could only partly benefit from. I have tried my best to update the bibliography and the commentary accordingly. The resulting book is a substantial update compared to the previously published Italian and French editions.

I would like to respectfully dedicate this book to my Syriac language students in Ulaan Baatar: Бадамцэцэг, Батзаяа, Буяндэлгэр, Долгормаа, Доржсүрэн, Энхзул, Эрдэнэтулга, Загдцэсэм, Лхагва, Лхагвасүрэн, Лхагвасүрэнжав, Лувсанцэрэн, Намхайнямбуу, Нэргүйбаатар, Номинчимэг, Сийлэгмаа, Ууганбаяр, Халиун, Цэрэндорж (The National University of Mongolia, June 2015), and in Italy: Alessia, Davide, Giulio, Lorenzo, Lucia, Maria Francesca, Mariano, Mariantonietta, Matteo, Rachele, Sara (University of Pisa, February-May 2020). May the knowledge of Syriac open up unexpected paths for them, as it was for me.

Moncalieri, 20 December 2020 AD, 2332 of the Greeks, Year of the Rat

Table of transliterations

Foreword

Marco Polo, William of Rubruck, John of Plano Carpini… these are but some of the best-known European travellers to Asia in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; from their writings, we learn of many other Europeans who willingly or forcibly travelled to, or even settled in Iran, Mongolia or China.1 Little is known about those who travelled in the opposite direction, from Asia to Europe, and at first sight we would be tempted to conclude that relations – whether missionary, diplomatic or commercial – happened largely at the initiative of Europeans. But in the fact, during the thirteenth century, relations between Asia, which was largely under Mongol sway at the time, and various European courts, were intense. Even though Mongol rulers often chose their ambassadors from among the Europeans who had settled in their territories, Asians were sometimes also selected for the task. While their names are occasionally recorded in archival documents (often misspelled, reflecting the way they sounded to European ears) their personalities and impressions they gained of Western countries largely elude us.

There is an exception, however. A text in the Syriac language titled History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma (hence: History) discovered in the late nineteenth century, provides direct information on one of these ambassadors: an ethnic Turk, or Mongol, and a Christian by the name of Sauma, who in 1287-1288 led a diplomatic mission to Europe. The embassy was sent by the Khan Arghun, the Mongol ruler of Iran. Sauma, who was a monk (therefore, his name is preceded by the Syriac epithet Rabban,“our master”), wrote a now-lost travel relation. An abridged version was incorporated into the History, a text written in the first half of the fourteenth century, which includes Sauma’s biography alongside that of a younger monk, Mark. The latter, his contemporary and a personal friend, became the catholicos (that is, the head) of the Church of the East with the name of Yahballaha.

Rabban Sauma’s journey to Europe is only an episode in the History, whose aim is to recollect the lives of the two protagonists and the events that took place in their time. But even as the encounter with an Asian Marco Polo of sorts constitutes the History’s most immediate element of appeal for present-day readers, being often the only portion translated into modern languages, the work deserves to be read in its entirety, as a rich and lively testimony of a time of unprecedented interconnectedness in the history of Eurasia.

The History is one of the more recent examples of classical Syriac literature – a major Christian literary tradition of the Near East – and in several respects, its form and content bear witness to a rapidly changing world. The Mongols took hold of vast tracts of Asia in a ruthless wave of conquest, which led to establishment of the Ilkhanid dynasty in Iran. Under Mongol rule, the Church of the East experienced a rapid surge in popularity, followed by an equally sharp decline. The History may be viewed as eloquent testimony to the proximity and symbiosis of cultures that were, at least in principle, irreconcilable.

Other elements of interest in the History include the complex political situation and the cosmopolitan environment in which the story unfolds, whose geographical boundaries stretch from Beijing to Gascony, and whose protagonists include Mongols, Turks, Kurds, Persians, Arabs, and Europeans, each with their own languages and customs. For the same reasons, it is impossible to boast equal expertise in all the fields involved. Our commentary does not aim to be exhaustive; we will attempt to clarify the more elusive issues, relying insofar as possible on contemporary points of view on places, events, and situations. The same criteria inspire the choice of texts collected in the Appendix: these include sources on the events related in the History as well as documents that either bear a tight relationship to it or mention its protagonists. Additional background may be garnered from the works listed in the Bibliography or some of the better known contemporary European travelogues.

Vowel length is nor marked in personal names and place names. Transliterated terms contained in quotations from secondary sources are reproduced in their original form.

1 A list of European travellers to Central and East Asia from 1242 to 1448 (not including those who travelled no further than Ilkhanid) may be found in REICHERT 1992:287-295.

Introduction

A manuscript resurfaces

The discovery of the History of Mar Yahballaha and Rabban Sauma took place in the context of missionary activities undertaken in the second half of the nineteenth century by Catholic as well as Protestant missionaries with the “Nestorian”1 Christian communities of Kurdistan. Missionaries from various denominations were engaged in reviving the local Christian literary traditions in the classical Syriac language, with an aim to elevate the locally spoken Aramaic dialect to the dignity of a written language.2

The discovery of the manuscript was announced by the American missionary Isaac Hollister Hall in October 1886, but the news were only first published in 1889.3 The original Syriac manuscript had allegedly come to light a couple of years earlier (in 1883 or 1884), in a church in the village of Minyanish in the Tyari region. The last local “Nestorian” monk, Rabban Yonan, allegedly made a copy of it, which was later taken to Urmia in 1885 by a priest named Osha‘na, who collaborated with the American missionaries. Further copies were then produced at the American mission, including the one described by Hall. In 1886, according to Hall, the original manuscript was in the possession of the Nestorian patriarch at his see of Qodshanis, in Hakkari (Eastern Turkey). The text had elicited considerable interest among the local Christians: Osha‘na had provided a verbal translation into modern Aramaic, which was later committed to writing and eventually published by the American missionaries in their monthly journal Zāhrīri d-Bāhrā (Rays of Light), in eight successive issues from October 1885 to May 1886. In his report, Hall referred to the manuscript as the History of Mar Yahballaha, catholikos of the East, and of Rabban Sauma, visitor-general,4 summarized its contents, and acknowledged its extraordinary value not only for the history of the Church of the East, but also for the history of Iran under Mongol rule (thirteenth - fourteenth centuries).

Credit for the discovery of the text unquestionably goes to the American mission. As mentioned, the discovery was announced in 1886, followed by a more detailed report in 1889. By 1888, however, someone else had published the Syriac text in Europe: the Lazarist Catholic priest Paul Bedjan, editor of numerous works of Syriac literature.1 From the Introduction to his edition of the History it appears that he was unaware of the circumstances of its finding. The scant news available to Bedjan originated, along with the Syriac text of the History, with brother Désiré Salomon, who claimed he had seen a manuscript in Urmia in 1887, then in the possession of a local young man. The manuscript was so interesting that he copied it in all haste in March of the same year and forwarded it to Bedjan in Europe. Bedjan was immediately struck by the relevance of the History, and published it in 1888 on the basis of the copy made for him in Urmia by Salomon, correcting only obvious mistakes, and amending the vocalization.2 At the time, he was both unaware of the existence of other copies of the text, and unable to trace the manuscript from which his copy had been made (BEDJAN 1888: iv). Salomon promptly shared the news with Bedjan when he saw another manuscript of the History at the American mission: this was between the end of 1888 and the beginning of 1889, after Bedjan’s edition had appeared.3 Though he did not discover the text, Paul Bedjan deserves to be credited with editing and publishing the History in the West for the first time, since the partial Neo-Aramaic translation made by the American missionaries had only been circulated locally.

The text

The copy that had served as a basis for Bedjan’s edition was not without mistakes; for this reason, even after the editor’s additions and corrections, the text remained fraught with interpretive difficulties and corrupt passages. In 1894 a long list of further suggestions for improvement was published by Heinrich Hilgenfeld.4

Once four more copies of the work were brought to his attention, Bedjan decided to prepare a new and improved edition of the History, published in 1895.5

All the manuscripts had only been copied recently, during the 1880s. Bedjan, being based in France, could not collate all of them personally, and relied on colleagues on the ground.

Shortly after the Syriac text was first published, its relevance, not limited to the circle of scholars of Syriac literature and Orientalists, prompted the publication of an extensively annotated French translation by Jean-Baptiste Chabot.1 All subsequent translations were based on the second edition by Bedjan: English translations were prepared by James A. Montgomery (1927, limited to the first part) and by Ernest A.W. Budge (1928), and a Russian translation by Nina V. Pigulevskaja (1958). A translation into Neo-Aramaic by Mattay d-bet-Paṭros was also published in Iraq (1961). Alexander Toepel more recently provided the first complete German translation (2008). Part of the text had previously been translated into German by Franz Altheim (1961). A portion of the text was translated into English by Sebastian P. Brock (1969). Louis Sako’s Arabic translation (1974) is also partial. Our first Italian translation (2000) and the French one (2008) are also based on the 1895 edition.

The present English edition and translation, by contrast, is based on three extant manuscripts, one of which is to be identified as Bedjan’s Ms. L (London, British Library, Or. 3636). See below, “The Syriac Text” (pp. 43-52).

The narrative

The manuscript unsurprisingly elicited immediate interest when it was first discovered, and was met with enthusiastic responses by scholars, as a unique eyewitness account of the extraordinary life of one of the outstanding patriarchs of the Church of the East, written in its classical language, Syriac. Outstanding he undoubtedly was, if not in terms of erudition or theological background, certainly because of his origins: Sauma was born at a remote location in present-day Inner Mongolia, and gave proof of outstanding abilities as the head of his Church at a particularly critical juncture. In addition to that, the account of Rabban Sauma’s mission to Europe provides scholars with a first-hand source on episodes previously known from documents in European archives or sources in Oriental languages, but not related elsewhere in such a direct way.

The History begins with the births of the two protagonists and ends with the death of Mar Yahballaha; the death of Rabban Sauma occurs about halfway through the narrative. The content of the History may be summarized as follows: in faraway China, the children of two different Christian families, Sauma and Mark, resolve to become hermits; later, the two come up with a plan to go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. But when they arrive in Mesopotamia after a troubled journey across Asia, they realize that proceeding beyond that point is impossible, and resume monastic life in local monasteries. When the catholicos (the patriarch of the Church of the East) dies, Mark is elected to succeed him, with the name of Yahballaha. Sauma is then chosen by the Ilkhanid ruler of Iran and Mesopotamia as his ambassador to Europe. There follows a period when several Ilkhans rule in quick succession, and the Church experiences both rough times and sudden returns to favour. The History faithfully relates these events, following the vicissitudes of the catholicos year after year. A narrative climax is reached with the account of the siege of the Arbil citadel, described in detail for its entire duration, culminating in the massacre of its Christian inhabitants. The History, as mentioned, continues up to the death of Mar Yahballaha.

Dating and composition

A terminus post quem for the dating is provided by the death of one of the protagonists – Mark, later Catholicos Yahballaha, who is known to have died in 1317. A secure terminus ante quem for the composition of the work may be suggested based on clues contained in the text. The History mentions the amirs Choban and Irinjin, accompanying their names with formulae such as “may he be preserved alive” (see pp. 183, 213, 229), suggestive of a date before their death. Choban died on 17 November 1327 (SPULER 1985:105 n. 52), and Irinjin as early as June 1319 (BOYLE 1968:409). If we accept the terminus post quem of Mar Yahballaha’s death, the History must have been composed between the end of 1317 and the middle of 1319.

However, as previously suggested by the eminent scholar of Syriac literature Jean-Maurice Fiey (Fiey 1988:209-210), the short notice on the demise of Mar Yahballaha is in all likelihood an addition, unrelated to the original narrative sequence of the History, because the work appears to have a suitable ending in the sentence “This is the state of things”, which immediately follows the author’s mention of the bishops ordained by Mar Yahballaha “as of this year” (see p. 231). The said year, by which the author had apparently finished writing his work, is not explicitly mentioned but must have preceded the death of the catholicos. If this was the case, the History was completed before November 1317, while the catholicos was still alive.

This observation does not significantly alter the chronology of the History: the notice on Yahballaha’s demise is brief and was possibly added by the author himself, making debates on the conclusion of the work redundant. That the notice on the patriarch’s death was added soon after the event is suggested by the inclusion of specific information about Mar Yahballaha’s burial. According to the notice, “He was buried in that same monastery”, meaning: the monastery of Saint John, which he had founded in the city of Maragha. An authoritative source, the biography of Mar Yahballaha included in the chronicle of the patriarchs known as the Arabic chronicle of the Patriarchs of the Church of the East, states that the body of the catholicos was subsequently transferred to another monastery. The transfer took place sometime before 1334, when the Muslim inhabitants seized the monastery of Saint John in Maragha (see p. 342). Since no mention is made of such an important event, the notice on Yahballaha’s demise must have been added earlier.

Fiey’s observation is nonetheless relevant because, when combined with other data, it allows us to put forward further hypotheses as to when and how the History was written. Fiey implicitly suggests that the text does not necessarily date later than the events related, and at least some parts of it were written while they were unfolding.

The most important clue is the sentence “long life to him!”, which refers to Ghazan Khan, whose death is later recorded in the History (see p. 161). It would not make any sense for the author to express this kind of wish for a ruler who had died about fourteen years before the last events chronicled in his work; therefore, we must assume that the passage in which the sentence occurs was written when the Khan was still alive. This is a different type of anachronism compared to the previous instance: here, a more recent situation is projected into the past. Both instances, however, seem to point to a work that was written over a few years. This is confirmed by further anachronisms: for example, the title “Amir of Amirs” is ascribed to Choban at the time when he took part in the siege of Arbil, in 1310 (see p. 213); but he was only awarded the title in 1317, by Khan Abu Sa‘id.1 From this we may infer that the passage on Arbil was written several years later.

The most likely explanation appears to be that the History was written as the events unfolded, and possibly revised from time to time.2 This would not be surprising: medieval chronicles were usually composed by accretion and accumulation, which ensured continuation of the work by others in case the author was unable to pursue the effort himself. Other examples in Syriac historical writing include the well-known Chronography by Gregory Abulfaraj, known as Barhebraeus. The eminent Syrian Orthodox polymath (a theologian, historian, and scientist, who also lived under Mongol rule: 1225/6-1286) authored a chronicle, which was picked up after his death by his brother Barsauma, from 1286 to 1288. Subsequently the task was pursued by several anonymous authors up to the fifteenth-sixteenth century.

The History’s remarkable coherence in compositional, thematic, and linguistic terms, by contrast, makes multiple authorship an unlikely possibility. More probably, the work was begun at a relatively quiet time for the Church. Another work, of a different genre but similar in purpose to the History, may help clarify the point. It is a panegyric composed to celebrate the catholicos Yahballaha, and more specifically the inauguration of the cited monastery he founded in honour of Saint John. The panegyric is preserved in a document which bears a 1295 date. The anonymous author of the History possibly first conceived and undertook his project around that time, reflecting the prevailing sentiment in his ecclesiastic milieu.3

Genre

The History belongs to the literary genre of biography, or history/chronicle, typical of the East Syriac literary tradition.4

The author declares his intentions in the Prologue: he aims to present the exemplary life of two Christians from a remote country, who attained high offices within the Church, bearing witness to the truth of Christ’s promise: “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world”, Matthew 28:20 (interpreted as Christ’s message embracing the entire world). At the end of the Prologue, the author introduces the protagonists with the following words:

We shall therefore appropriately relate the details of their families, their country, and the peculiar way they were raised and the life they spent together. While relating their history, we shall also write about the occurrences of their time – what happened to them, through them or because of them, and we shall relate everything just as it happened.

Since the narrative is focused on two outstanding characters, of uncommon background and uncommon fate, one might expect a predominance of celebratory or even hagiographic intentions in the History. Familiar features typical of Syriac hagiographical genre are certainly conspicuous,1 but the second part of the author’s statement of purpose frames the History explicitly as a piece of historiography, aiming to scrupulously relate the events contemporaneous to the lives of its two protagonists. The “saints” whose life is chronicled in the History are neither miracle-workers nor the protagonists of supernatural events. While their upbringing is detailed with bewilderment, their biography unfolds much more prosaically around their actions, with alternating successes and failures when dealing with a precarious historical juncture. And even as their wisdom, piety and practical skills are extolled, the author does not refrain from criticism of the two protagonists, nor are their faults concealed.2

The narrative appears to be focused on episodes that saw their direct involvement, but a more general contextualization becomes necessary on occasion, and the author accordingly provides a brief account of the circumstances, resuming the main narrative soon afterwards: “Otherwise we would be writing at length, far beyond the aims of this narrative, and would end up turning it into something different” (p. 141). Statements of this kind not only point to the author’s rigour, but suggest he was a capable narrator, and regretted being denied an opportunity to tell the full story in this instance.

The historiographic genre has a long tradition in Syriac literature, dating back at least to the tenth century.3 The cited Chronography by Barhebraeus is just one of many Syriac historical works, and – like the History– was written in the Mongol period. It is tempting to connect the composition of both works with the spurt of interest in historiography witnessed in the Mongol period. To cite only the most eminent case, Ghazan Khan commissioned the Compendium of chronicles, a project coordinated by and traditionally ascribed to Rashid al-Din: both Persian and Arabic versions of it were circulated, which included chapters on all the nations and peoples known at the time.4 Even earlier, in 1260, ʿAṭa Malik Juvayni authored the History of the World Conqueror (that is, Chinggis Khan), one of the main sources on the history of the Mongols.5

Therefore, even if historiography was a well-known, traditional genre of Syriac literature, we cannot rule out the possibility of an additional impulse between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in connection with the cultural climate of the Mongol age, which would not have escaped learned ecclesiastical circles.1

Indeed, an interest in Mongol history and the history of the other nations inhabiting the Far East as well as the West, so well represented in Rashid al-Din’s historiographical work,2 was a common cultural trait at the time, encouraged by the presence of Turks, Mongols, Chinese, and “Franks” at the Mongol courts and in their domains. This interest in faraway peoples is evident from the very beginning of the History: “the Indian, the Chinese, and other Eastern peoples […] received the discipline of the fear of God”. It may even be regarded as its raison d’être, given the author’s fascination with the two monks who, above and beyond their singular experience, embody the model believer in the exotic garb of faraway peoples.3

Conceptual and literary affinities between the History and Persian historiographical works will be pointed out in the commentary. It may be noted here that the History’s Prologue most probably contains at least one reference to the History of the World Conqueror. In his Prologue to the latter, Juvayni justifies the Mongols’ ascent to power with their fulfilment of the promise of the spread of Islam to the Far East. The History’s Prologue mentions both the promise of the dissemination of Christianity and the conversion of Eastern peoples.4 We may reasonably infer that the author of the History was inspired by Juvayni’s argument and adapted it to his own aims, since the History of the World Conqueror was already well known in his time and was readily available for consultation in the library of Maragha.5

The author

None of the manuscripts contains the name of the author of the History, and no external tradition about him has come to light. The work itself was unknown until its discovery at the end of the nineteenth century. The author was certainly a cleric, and not one of lowly status, considering his literary and linguistic skills (by the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, Syriac had long been a learned language reserved for literary and liturgical use), his theological knowledge, and his familiarity both with the higher ranks of the Church of the East and with the grandees of his time.6 Fiey suggest the author was an anonymous “archdeacon of the patriarchal see”.1

The author’s clerical status is further suggested by his interpretation of historical events in light of the Bible, from which he quotes verses, and the underlying idea that historical occurrences are but a manifestation of God’s will. At the same time, he ascribes due importance to political and practical matters: clearly, to him, spiritual causes manifest themselves in concrete ways in everyday human life. Hence, for example, he does not conceal that Mark’s ethnic background, close to that of the Mongols, was a crucial factor why he was chosen to lead the Church of the East, or that his electors chose to overlook his limited knowledge of doctrine in the hope of gaining advantage from his presumed familiarity with the rulers of the time. Even when writing about the persecutions endured by Christians, the author of the History appears to be a relatively impartial observer, who does not fail to point out their responsibilities.

Based on such clues and other observations, H. Murre-Van den Berg proposed to identify the author of the History with the metropolitan of Arbil, who is mentioned in the History (but not named) in connection with the siege of its citadel. In 1318, after Yahballaha’s demise, he became the catholicos under the name Timothy (II). The suggestion appears well founded (MURRE-VAN DEN BERG 2006:377-394; BORBONE 2006b).

The sources

Only one source is explicitly mentioned by the author, namely, Rabban Sauma’s own travelogue, on which the account of the cleric’s trip to Europe is based. This, however, only constitutes a short portion of the narrative.

A first-hand account, mostly unmediated by prior historiographical sources, is also to be expected if, as suggested above, the History was written shortly after the events. For most of his narrative, the author appears to rely to a large extent on personal experience, combined with information gathered from eyewitnesses and the protagonists themselves.

There is no question that both Rabban Sauma and Mar Yahballaha provided firsthand information to the author. This is clear not only from the accounts of their childhood and of Sauma’s journey, but also from certain events that no-one else would have known about. The soberly hagiographic accounts of their childhood and vocation could only have been crafted by weaving the protagonists’ memories onto a stereotyped account informed by the Bible.

In a specific instance the author reveals his eyewitness status. When describing the looting of the churches in Maragha in 1295 (see p. 145), he says:

Perhaps the reader, who has not found himself in the middle of such a storm, will think the writer does not mean this seriously; but verily the author calls God to witness that it is impossible to relate or write even one of the things that happened.

The History thus blends first-hand information, personal experience, and the protagonists’ recollections. Being a cleric, the author was undoubtedly part of the circle of close collaborators of the catholicos. As was previously suggested, the author of the History may well be Timothy, Yahballaha’s successor as catholicos of the Church of the East (even though it is impossible to state this with absolute certainty). He probably wrote it not only to celebrate his predecessor, but in order to provide a detailed account of the tragic events that befell his episcopal see, Arbil, seeing his direct involvement. The narrative is lively and often makes use of direct speech, with long passages or dialogues ascribed to the protagonists. In such passages, the views of the author are expressed more directly compared to the sections where he chronicles events. A comparison between the latter and other sources on the same occurrences reveals substantial agreement, with occasional differences in the details.

Language and style

The History was written in Syriac, the language of the Church of the East, based on the Eastern Aramaic dialect spoken in the city of Edessa (present-day Urfa in Turkey). Documented from the second century in Christian and Gnostic texts, Syriac followed the diffusion of Christianity in Syria, Mesopotamia, Palestine, and Lebanon. It became the language of a predominantly religious-themed literary production, and became the learned, scholarly, and liturgical language for most of Eastern Christianity. It began to lose ground as a spoken language with the Islamic conquest, from the seventh century onwards, being replaced by Arabic; but it survived as a liturgical and literary language. The renowned translations into Arabic of Greek philosophical and scientific works were to a large extent mediated by Syriac versions. The Syrian Christian population, or at least its more erudite segments, were fluent in no less than four languages: the language spoken on a daily basis, which could be any one of the Aramaic dialects of Northern or Southern Mesopotamia, documented in writing only much later,1 alongside which Arabic was also spoken; and in addition, the erudite languages, including classical Syriac, which was taught in schools, and classical Arabic.2 Greek or Persian were also, typically, part of the language skills of the more erudite Syriac authors, depending on period and cultural milieu.3

In the fourteenth century, when the History was written, the heyday of Syriac literature was long past: Arabic had gained ground even as an erudite language, as exemplified by the Arabic chronicle of the Patriarchs of the Church of the East, of which an excerpt on Mar Yahballaha is translated below (see pp. 340-344). However, the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries witnessed a renewed interest in the use of Syriac, in which the History figures as an important document within the Eastern Syriac milieu, alongside the works of ‘Abdisho‘ of Nisibis and the liturgical poems of Khamis bar Qardaḥe and Giwargis Warda.1

The use of Syriac was thus a deliberate choice on the part of the author of the History: we may only speculate as to the reasons for such a choice. When we consider that Barhebraeus was around that time translating – or perhaps more accurately, reworking, if not actually rewriting – his Syriac chronicle in Arabic in order to reach a wider and more diverse audience (TEULE 1996), it is tempting to infer an opposite intent on the part of our author. Possibly, his work was not meant to circulate outside the circle of those familiar with the ancient language of the Church of the East. Some of the views on the conduct of Mongol rulers and Muslims expressed in the History may have elicited a negative response if apprehended outside the Church’s circles. But the use of Syriac may also be the result of a stylistic choice: an intention to present the text in a more classical garb.

The History’s varied contents are reflected in a style that combines precision of detail with lively expression and frequently resorts to direct speech. The author inserts comments, often in the form of poetical excerpts from the Bible or liturgical texts: these do not slow the narrative tension but help to pace it out by introducing appropriate pauses. Syriac writers only rarely use poetic quotations as commentaries or explanations to the main narrative, or to express their ideas. But such quotations are commonplace in coeval Persian historical writing, as well as in Arabic adab.2 It is therefore not at all far-fetched to interpret this as evidence of the kind of symbiosis or cultural syncretism characteristic of the Mongol age. Previous scholarship highlighted a further point of contact between the History and Arabic literature, namely, the inclusion of an epithet after the introduction of relevant characters, expressing the author’s views on them.1

Clues to a shared cultural background between the History and Arabo-Persian historical-geographical writing may also be detected in some of the descriptions and images: for instance, when the author comments on the greed of pillagers saying that “not a nail remained on the walls” (p. 143). The image finds a parallel in Rashid al-Din, who in a similar instance writes: “[they] plundered … so thoroughly that, aside from ashes in the fireplaces, not a trace remained”.2 In turn, the volcano seen by Rabban Sauma during his sea trip to Italy is described in terms reminiscent of the description of Mount Etna in Qazwini: “Then you shall see a great fire burn on the summit by night, and during the day a great [plume of] smoke come out of it”.3

This instance begs an interesting question, concerning the extent to which the description reflects an actual experience on the part of the narrator – who in this case must be Rabban Sauma, since this portion of the narrative derives from his account. Whether the description results more from direct experience or from cultural stereotypes is a matter of debate. Some scholars have interpreted it as an eyewitness account of the eruption of Mount Etna on 18 June 1287, but the fact that the concept of Etna displaying smoke by day and fire by night was present in the author’s cultural milieu implies that the text can be explained even without direct experience of an eruption.

The author’s lively narrative style is equally manifest in his lexicon, which fully exemplifies one of the History’s most fascinating features: namely, cosmopolitanism. From early on, the Syriac language was receptive of Greek words (philosophical, technical, administrative and, most of all, ecclesiastical). The History’s vocabulary extends far beyond this, to include Arabic, Turkic, Persian, Mongolian, and Latin words. It features words that never occur otherwise in Syriac literature. In some cases, the author himself feels compelled to explain their meaning: these should be regarded as foreign words rather than loanwords incorporated into the Syriac language.4 Sometimes there were exact equivalents for them in classical Syriac, and the choice of a foreign word reveals a specific communicative intent. The author’s choice of foreign words appears dictated by a desire to be accurate, with the adoption of legal and administrative technical terms; besides, he aims to increase verisimilitude, when reporting direct speech of foreigners.1 Such a fascination for exotic words was not shared by a famous Syriac author of roughly the same epoch, Barhebraeus, who in his Chronography paraphrases rather than reproducing the foreign technical terms found in his sources (BORBONE 2016a: 365). However, it appears in keeping with a literary fashion of the time, found in Persian as well as Armenian authors. For Persian, we might quote the poet Pur-i Baha (1265-1282), “a satirist obsessed by the strange jingle of terms which from military camps and market-places found their way into chancelleries, not even respecting the intimacy of private homes, where they buzzed and hummed like tedious bumble-bees” (MINORSKY 1956:262). The Armenian poet Frik (c. 1230-1310), in turn, makes use of Mongolian technical terms in his poem on Arghun Khan (GUGEROTTI 1982; VAN LINT 2013).

The milieu

The narrative covers events which took place between the thirteenth century and the beginning of the fourteenth, more precisely between 1225 (the probable date of Rabban Sauma’s birth) and 1317 (the established date of Mar Yahballaha’s death). This was a crucial time for Mongol rule in Iran and for the Ilkhans’ relations with Europe. The events take place mostly in Iran-Iraq, then subject to Mongol rule, but the History begins in China and the episode of Rabban Sauma’s embassy extends the geographical scope to Western Europe.

The Mongol Empire, resulting from the westward thrust triggered by Chinggis Khan and pursued by his successors, extended at from the Pacific Ocean up to Eastern Europe. In the Near East, the invaders’ thrust had been halted along the frontiers of Syria and Palestine, but Baghdad had been conquered, and the Caliphate – the highest Islamic authority, whose power was by then already vastly reduced – had been delivered a final blow. The Ilkhans held sway over Iran and present-day Iraq;2 Russia was ruled by the Golden Horde, whilst Central Asia was under Chagatai’s lineage. In accordance with the Mongol conception of authority, conquered territories were the undivided property of Chinggis Khan’s family. Thus, their independence was subject to acceptance of the Great Khan’s authority. The Great Khan, from his capital of Khanbaliq, ruled Mongolia and China directly. Without definite laws of succession, internecine warfare was common, within and between different branches. Over time, submission to the Great Khan became little more than a formality. Nevertheless, historians have adopted the definition of Pax Mongolica or “Mongol Peace” for this period, emphasizing the unprecedented territorial and administrative continuum resulting from the Mongol conquest, which favoured closer commercial and cultural relations between the Far East and Europe (KOTWICZ 1950; LEMERCIER QUELQUEJAY 1970).

The Mongols in Iran

From 1218 onwards, Chinggis Khan undertook a series of military campaigns against the kingdom of Khwarazm, which at the time approximately comprised the territories of present-day Iran and Turkmenistan, as well as vast tracts of Kazakhstan. Military expansion came to a halt several years later, under his successors, resulting in a stable hold on present-day Iran and Iraq, up to the Syrian border.

The conquest of Baghdad in 1258 was achieved by Hülegü, Chinggis Khan’s grandson, a brother of the Great Khan of the time, Möngke (1209-1259), and of his more famous successor, Qubilai. Hülegü even succeeded in conquering of Aleppo in 1260, but the success of his military conquest of Syria was ultimately ephemeral. Syria then constituted the north-eastern portion of the Mamluk kingdom, which had its capital in Egypt. During the conquest Möngke died, and Hülegü was recalled to Mongolia to take part in a quriltai– the assembly of nobles charged with the election of a new Great Khan. Without Hülegü’s leadership, the Mongol army was defeated by the Mamluks at ‘Ain Jalut (6 September 1260). The defeat marked the western limit of Mongol expansion into the Near East: in the following decades, Mongol armies repeatedly crossed the Euphrates and conquered cities in Syria, but none of their campaigns achieved lasting success.

Qubilai was elected Great Khan in May 1260, despite strenuous opposition. Subsequently, his brother Hülegü fully established his hold on the regions he had conquered, giving rise to the Ilkhanid dynasty.

The conquests had relevant demographic and economic consequences. Ancient cities such as Bukhara, Samarkand, Balkh, or Merv, were repeatedly looted and destroyed, and their inhabitants systematically slaughtered.1 Such a blow was dealt to the ancient Perso-Arabic urban and agricultural civilizations that it took them centuries to recover.2

The Ilkhanid dynasty ruled for less than a century: after Hülegü (1256-1265), Abaqa (1265-1281), Tegüder-Aḥmad (1282-1284), Arghun (1284-1291), Geikhatu (1291-1295), Baidu (1295), Ghazan (1295-1304), Öljeitü (1304-1316), and Abu Saʿid (1316-1335) rose to the throne. Dynastic struggles and problematic succession were the norm, as was the lasting difficulty in asserting centralized authority.1

The Mongol invaders remained essentially a military elite superimposed upon an urban and agricultural civilization, which they exploited for their sustenance. But from the beginning they sought and found allies in the local elites: urban aristocracy, religious hierarchies (both Muslim and Christian), and the mercantile class. Traditional administrative structures, including the taxation system, were to a large extent maintained, although a few innovations were introduced.2

Taking a closer look at economy and society, two main phases may be singled out during the period covered by the History, which extends from the Mongol conquest to 1317. In the first phase (roughly between 1220 and the beginning of Ghazan Khan’s reign, 1295) there was systematic exploitation of the land, first by military conquest, then with the imposition of heavy taxes. The Mongols continued to behave like an army in enemy territory: the land was divided up and assigned to military chiefs (the “amirs”, as they are called in the History), and was either turned into pasture or very high taxes were exacted, both in cash and in kind.3 As a result, both agriculture and population declined, as did urban life standards. Attempts were made to remedy the situation, made worse by natural calamities, including the (unsuccessful) introduction of paper money at the behest of Geikhatu Khan (SPULER 1972:139-141).

During the second phase, beginning in the reign of Ghazan Khan (1295-1304), the outcomes of an increasing integration of local urban and landowning elites into the Mongol administration became manifest. The person of the Khan became a focus of reaction to the economic decay prevalent in the kingdom and its political instability, and his authority was recast in accordance with traditional Iranian concepts of sovereignty. This allowed Ghazan Khan to undertake various administrative reforms to support the economy. Among these were reforms of land taxation and of the Mongol tax on trade and crafts, which was reduced to half in various cities, and in some cases even abolished, in accordance with Islamic law, with which it is incompatible. Agriculture was promoted through incentives aimed at encouraging settlements on fallow land, and by supporting the restoration of irrigation systems. Finally, a single system of weights and measurements was estabished in the entire kingdom.

Ghazan also punished abuses against the population on the part of the aristocracy and bureaucrats; regulations were introduced on the duty (in Turkic ulagh) to provide beasts of burden and mounts to messengers and to the postal service,1 and on the duty to support the troops and state officers in one’s home and at one’s expense. Such duties had often been turned to the aristocracy’s advantage, resulting in mistreatments and robberies.

Based on contemporary sources, Ghazan’s reforms had some positive effects on the general economic situation.2 But a few years were not enough to remedy all past the previous destructions; not to mention that the promulgation of new laws and regulations on the part of central authorities did not necessarily result in their application with equal rigour throughout the kingdom. The History itself, for instance, shows that the troops and officers had not ceased to burden the people with expenses for their intervention, even after such behaviours had been declared illegal.3

The Mongol conquest had important consequences for the religions traditionally present in the conquered territories – Islam and Christianity, with their various denominations – and for Buddhism, which received support from the Mongols.4 Both Buddhism and Christianity were favoured considerably by the Mongol elite. In the Mongol tradition, the ruler was expected to adhere to ancestral custom and not favour or adopt any of these other religions. Generally, the Mongols had been impartial about the religions practised by their subjects, demanding only that everyone pray for the ruler’s well-being. Hülegü, who founded the Ilkhanid dynasty, was not especially sympathetic towards Islam, being more inclined towards Christianity, even though he was not a Christian himself.1 For this reason, the Mongol conquest elicited hopes in the Eastern Christian Churches, which saw the premises for a renaissance.

Over time, however, various members of the Mongol ruling elite in Iran began to approach Islam. The short-lived reign of Tegüder, the first Mongol ruler to adopt Islam, was not of great consequence, whether in domestic or foreign policy; his conversion to Islam was one of the reasons that brought about his downfall. But with Ghazan’s conversion in 1295 came the restoration of Islam as state religion in Iran and Iraq, with obvious consequences for all other faiths.

For all the devastations, massacres, and long-lasting consequences on the economic and social systems, it would be inaccurate to regard the period of Mongol rule as a dark age, devoid of cultural achievements. Iran was no exception, and its artistic and cultural output under Mongol rule was considerable, and some scholars even describe it as a “Persian Renaissance” (LANE 2003). From the outset, the Ilkhans were enthusiastic patrons: Hülegü sponsored the foundation of an astronomic observatory in the capital, Maragha, led by Naṣir al-Din Ṭusi, an eminent scientist and a Shi‘ite theologian (BAUSANI 1982; SAYILI 1988). Chinese astronomers collaborated to the project with him.2 Among the positive consequences of these unprecedented connections between East and West were the increased opportunities for travel.3 With the introduction of Buddhism under the early Ilkhans, monks travelled to Iran from China and Kashmir. Diplomatic relations with the West encouraged the activity of missionaries and swelled the numbers of European merchants in Iran.

The new cultural climate promoted a literary and artistic florescence. Greek painters were hired to decorate the Christian churches of Iran, and Chinese arts (possibly, even artists) provided fresh inspiration to Persian painters and craftsmen, who adopted new motifs and techniques.4 New districts were built, complete with hospitals, caravanserais, and libraries. Mutual acquaintance and occasional cooperation between scholars of different religions were far from unusual at the time. The History bears witness to this in turn.

Europe and the Mongols

The rise of the Mongols was an event of capital importance for thirteenth-century European society. Texts containing news of a Christian kingdom in the Far East were circulating in the West as early as the twelfth century. Among them was the Letter of Prester John. Such stories were based on fact, including the conversion to Christianity of a few Turco-Mongol tribes, but the news were distorted and garbed in imaginary

Around 1219, when the first news of the Mongol thrust towards the Near East reached the Christian states of Palestine, the Letter provided an interpretative framework. It was believed that Prester John (or his successor) had finally come to the help of Christianity. But soon enough Mongol military operations against Russia (1223) and Eastern Europe (1237-1242) dispelled any delusion of another Christian people coming in from the East. Instead, terror arose from the massacres and destructions that accompanied the Mongols’ swift advance.2 There was obvious curiosity for a new and previously unknown people, and when the westward thrust of the conquest came to a halt, curiosity again overcame fear. For six hundred years the world had been divided into two spheres: Christianity and Islam. Now a third element had arisen, and it was unclear where it came from and what role it was going to play in the scheme of Providence.1 The intellectuals of Christian Europe strove to subsume the Mongols into their worldview, seeking answers in the Biblical tradition. The Mongols were accordingly identified with the Gog and Magog peoples mentioned in the Bible.2 As eyewitness accounts from travellers and ambassadors began to reach Europe, a more balanced assessment became possible, and with it came a more rational explanation of Mongol military achievements. This in turn prompted advancements in defence strategies,3 since the Mongols were by then perceived as a potential enemy. During the latter part of the thirteenth century, however, a more favourable attitude gained ground in the theological as well as the political domain: the experience of Pax Mongolica had proved fruitful for European merchants and travellers in Asia, and an anti-Muslim alliance appeared as a feasible option. An eloquent example in the theological domain is the work of Ramon Llull (c. 1232-1316), the Catalan poet, traveller, philosopher, and missionary. In 1285-1286 Llull authored a dialogue between a “Tartar” and a Christian (Liber Tartari et Christiani), in which the Tartar is depicted as a wise man, deeply concerned with the salvation of his soul and the well-being of other people, who eventually embraces Christianity.4 In this instance, the Tartar is evidently an idealized figure; but although Llull only had indirect experience of the Mongols,5 we can hardly doubt that he was adamant about their ability to comprehend and embrace Christianity. This was quite a different estimate than that prevalent in the times when the first horrific news of the Mongol invasion reached Europe and people wondered if such monstrous beings even belonged to humanity or were instead demons.6

In the political domain, events in the last few decades of the thirteenth century seemingly confirmed the idea that Christianity had found in the Mongols a potential ally against Islam. The first tentative diplomatic efforts or, more accurately, intelligence activities, in faraway Mongolia (examples include Rubruck and Plano Carpini) helped gain some knowledge of the Mongols but did not produce any lasting agreements. They were followed by more intense exchanges with the Ilkhans of Iran. These, as the History itself testifies, were not necessarily prompted by European powers: the Mongol rulers in turn sent frequent embassies: for example, two Mongol envoys attended the Council of Lyon in 1274 and were baptized on that occasion. The Ilkhans were more interested in a concerted invasion of Palestine than the Papacy or European rulers.1 The arrogant requests for submission found in the first messages sent by the Mongol Khans to European rulers gave way over time to pragmatic proposals of an alliance with mutual interests. These were ultimately unsuccessful, largely because of the internal situations in both realms. Europe was divided and engaged in the “War of the Vesper” (RUNCIMAN 1958) and had become insensitive to crusade initiatives; the Ilkhans for their part were troubled by succession struggles, and their rulers and elite were progressively converting to Islam.

The Church of the East

The Church to which Rabban Mark and Rabban Sauma belonged still exists in Turkey, Iraq, and Iran, as well as India and the diaspora. From the beginning, it chose to name itself “Church of the East” (in Syriac ‘edtā d-madnḥā, in Arabic kanīsat al-mashriq). It is one of the Syrian Churches, that is, the Churches that originated with the Arameans of Syria proper as well as Mesopotamia, who adopted the Syriac language in their liturgy.

The Church of the East arose outside the Roman Empire, in the Mesopotamian lands then under the Parthian/Persian sway of the Arsacid and Sasanian dynasties (224-636). For this reason, it is also known as “Church of Persia” or “Church of Seleucia-Ctesiphon”, after the twin cities on the opposite banks of the Tigris river, the first see of its patriarch, known as the catholicos.2

At variance with Western Churches, throughout its history the Church of the East survived within non-Christian states, implying constant exposure to potential threats, from hostility to outright persecution at the hands of the ruling elites. Consequently, it was forced to mediate with each dominant culture in turn to ensure its own survival.

Christianity first took root in the small kingdom of Osroene in Northern Mesopotamia, which sat on the border dividing the Roman and Parthian Empires, more precisely around the city of Edessa (Urha in Syriac, present-day Urfa in Turkey). Here, a Christian community was present at the time when the ruler of Osroene, Abgar IX (179-214), converted to Christianity. A legend3 relates the conversion of Abgar V, a contemporary of Jesus, who allegedly invited the latter to visit his city. Jesus, unable to visit Edessa, promised to send his disciple Thomas, whom he entrusted with spreading his message to the East. Thomas in turn put Addai in charge of the mission to Edessa. Regardless of legend and of the schism that characterized its history, Christianity in these regions has unquestionably ancient roots and most likely originates with the first apostles.

Many early converts were probably made from among the sizeable Jewish communities of Mesopotamia, whose presence undoubtedly facilitated evangelization.1 Edessa became the seat of an important theological school; among its teachers was Ephrem, one of the fourth-century Church Fathers. The presence of Christians further east, in the lands of the Persian Empire south of the Caspian Sea (Gilan) and in Susiana, Fars, and Media, besides the Arab town of Hatra in Central Mesopotamia, is documented as early as the third century by one of the oldest works of Syriac literature, the Book of the Laws of the Countries.2 These communities depended from the Patriarchy of Antioch, which is where the bishops were ordained. But the state of permanent conflict between the Parthian and Roman Empires made communications and travel difficult, and connections with the western branch of the Syrian Church became more and more tenuous. Concurrently, the importance of the seat of Seleucia-Ctesiphon grew. In 424 the metropolitan bishop of Seleucia-Ctesiphon became independent from the authority of the Patriarch of Antioch, assuming the title of catholicos. With the rise of the Sasanian dynasty in Iran, and especially when Christianity was adopted as state religion in the Roman Empire, it became impractical for the Christian subjects of the Persian Empire to maintain links with the West, lest they were considered supporters of the Roman Empire (BROCK 1982). Some of the persecutions experienced by the Church in Persia were based on this suspicion. On the other hand, the wars between the two empires brought Christian prisoners to Iran, who eventually joined the local communities (LANDRON 1994:18-19).

The dispute over the nature of Christ which troubled Christianity during the fifth century had long-lasting consequences on the Syrian Church, widening the gap and defining distances even more clearly than practical and political circumstances. Divergences ultimately coalesced into schisms.

The theological tradition followed by the Church of the East goes back to the school of Antioch, exemplified by the exegetical works of Theodore of Mopsuestia (d. 428), one of its most eminent exponents. The teachings of Nestorius, the patriarch of Constantinople condemned in the Council of Ephesus (431) were part of the same school and tradition. In the Council of Seleucia-Ctesiphon (486), the Church of the East eventually adopted Antiochian Christology; for this reason, the appellative “Nestorian” was attributed to the Church of the East.3

Meanwhile, another schism had ensued from the Council of Chalcedon (451). Even though Nestorius was once again condemned, the Council’s proposed Christological formulation was met with a refusal from most of Eastern Christians of the Roman Empire, particularly in Syria, whose communities chose to adhere to the Monophysite position.1 Several authoritative and learned priests endorsed this position, including Severus of Antioch and Phyloxenos of Mabbug. In order to contrast the influence exercised by the latter’s teachings, the Church of the East was prompted to make a statement on its position regarding Christology, in the 486 Council of Seleucia-Ctesiphon. It took several decades for the “Monophysite” Church to acquire a fully structured, hierarchical organization: this took place at the behest of Jacob Baradaeus (c. 500-578), and for this reason, that Church became known as “Jacobite” from the eighth century onwards.

Thus, the two main branches of the Syrian Church became known by names –“Nestorian” and “Jacobite”– that have nothing to do with their founders. Both Churches reject such denominations, derogatory in nature and originating with their adversaries.2 Hence it is preferable to refer to them as the Church of the East and the Syrian Orthodox Church, respectively, reflecting their self-denominations. Nevertheless, the use of the word “Nestorian