Song was an integral part of both Jewish and Christian worship, according to the earliest written records of each religious tradition. Moses, along with his band of Israelites and Aaron’s sister Miriam, sang songs of victory after the crossing of the Red Sea, according to Exodus 15:1–21. The other Old Testament canticles, along with the entire book of Psalms, not only reflect the historical experience of the Jews, but may also have been sung in temple and synagogue worship through to the beginning of the Christian era.Footnote ¹ According to the younger Pliny (c. 61 - 113 CE), the followers of Jesus ‘met regularly before dawn on a fixed day to chant verses alternately among themselves in honour of Christ as if to a god … ’Footnote ² Pagan tradition also involved the singing of sacred songs. Early Christians thus inhabited a world in which believers were accustomed to invoke, describe and praise their deities with words and music. Scholars do not agree about the precise ways in which Egyptian monasteries and urban churches organised the singing of the Old Testament psalms and responses in late antiquity; however, it is likely that this practice flourished especially in cathedral settings.Footnote ³ Psalmody, along with the nine biblical canticles, thus played important roles in the formation of early Christian hymnography. That hymns could be used to attract converts was also recognised from at least as early as the early fourth century.Footnote ⁴

The question of genre, or literary form, is particularly complicated in the case of hymnography. To begin with, there is a close relationship between hymns and prayers – to the extent that it is misleading to separate them as independent forms. Although the psalms were composed as songs, for example, they also functioned as prayers. Many late antique and Byzantine hymns further performed a didactic role in ritual or liturgical settings. According to Matthew Gordley, this is indicated by direct address to the audience, by the expression of theological doctrine in ways that can be easily assimilated, and by vivid or dramatic use of narrative.Footnote ⁵ Early Syriac and Greek hymns contain in varying degrees all of the above qualities, from direct invocation of Christ, his mother Mary, or the saints, to concise or narrative theological formulations.

This chapter deals with liturgical hymnography that placed the Theotokos at the centre of its praise or teaching, focusing on texts that were intended for church settings.Footnote ⁶ It includes not only the earliest Greek examples of the genre, but also some Syriac and Georgian compositions that either influenced or transmitted such early works. Hymns that were intended mainly for public liturgical contexts began to be produced in eastern regions of the Roman empire or in Persia, where Syriac was spoken both inside and outside the Church, from at least as early as the fourth century. The earliest Greek examples survive mainly in Georgian translations that reflect liturgical practices in Jerusalem or Palestine. Hymnography that specifically praised or expounded the Theotokos began to be produced in Constantinople from the early fifth century onward. All of the surviving works, whether Syriac, Georgian or Greek, assumed particular forms according to their place within the developing offices or divine liturgies. They may be described as formal prayers to the Christian God, usually set to music, which were designed to invoke, praise and offer thanksgiving to God, the Theotokos or the saints, on behalf of the whole community. In addition to this, they taught the paradoxical doctrine of Christ’s incarnation, which depended so materially on his mother Mary.

As a possible exception to this rough chronological outline, a short Greek prayer to the Theotokos, called by its Latin title, Sub tuum praesidium, survives in a papyrus that now belongs to the John Rylands Library in Manchester. It is sung to this day in Oriental and Orthodox Christian liturgical services and may be translated as follows:

The text is frequently cited as one of the earliest examples of a prayer that appeals to Mary’s intercessory power; however, its date remains controversial.Footnote ⁸ Whereas Stephen Shoemaker suggests that it belongs to the fourth or even third century ce,Footnote ⁹ Theodore de Bruyn prefers a later context for the prayer, for two main reasons.Footnote ¹⁰ First, H. Förster has questioned the fourth-century dating of the palaeography that was suggested by its first editors, suggesting instead that it belongs to the sixth or seventh century.Footnote ¹¹ Second, and perhaps more incontrovertibly, de Bruyn demonstrates that appeals to the mediating or intercessory powers of the Theotokos are largely absent in Egyptian liturgical texts before the sixth century.Footnote ¹² Even ‘paraliturgical’ evidence, which consists of short prayers or amulets,Footnote ¹³ can be dated no earlier than the fifth century.Footnote ¹⁴ Such fragments, many of which appear to have had healing powers and to have been intended for female owners, testify to belief in the intercessory power of the Theotokos in Egypt from at this date, but probably not earlier.Footnote ¹⁵ This fascinating material, which cannot be classed as liturgical hymnography, testifies to the development of personal devotion to the Virgin in fifth- and sixth-century Egypt.Footnote ¹⁶

Other early examples of hymnography that describe or invoke the Virgin Mary include, as we shall see below, Syriac poetic homilies and early Palestinian hymns that were written in Greek but survive in tenth-century Georgian translations. All of this evidence is important when we reconstruct the origins of Marian praise in the Eastern Churches; most of it belongs to the sphere of collective liturgical worship. As stated above, this material represents theology in verse, which helped to teach congregations the important role that the Theotokos played in the incarnation of Christ. Whereas earlier examples, dating from the fourth century or before, confined themselves to Christological themes, hymns that were produced from about the late fifth century onward began to invoke Mary’s intercessory power. An important example that probably belongs to this period is the Akathistos Hymn, which alludes repeatedly – and with the help of metaphorical imagery – to the Virgin’s protective qualities. It is only in the course of the sixth century, however, that the Virgin became human and even maternal, according to both Syriac and Greek liturgical poets. The kontakia of Romanos the Melodist, which were sung in the course of all-night vigils in the churches of Constantinople, represented a turning point in Marian liturgical writing. Not only did this hymnographer combine Greek and Syriac models in order to create a three-dimensional and human image of the Mother of God, but his work influenced both hymnographers and preachers in the centuries that followed. The fourth to the sixth centuries were thus pivotal in the history of Eastern Christian hymnography. After this period, as we shall see in Chapter 4, a multitude of Marian hymns were added to liturgical services, including not only those that were intended for newly instituted feast-days, but also many for ordinary Sundays and weekdays. Christological Councils of the fifth century may not have provided the only impetus for growing public recognition of the Theotokos; however, they allowed Church leaders to endorse this tendency and to place it at the centre of their didactic efforts. Mary acted as a link between the divine and created worlds. Not only did she guarantee the humanity of Christ by means of her divine motherhood, but she also offered humanity a way to approach and influence the judgement of the heavenly Saviour.

Syriac Liturgical Poetry

Whereas poetic homilies dominated the Greek and Latin liturgical traditions in the fourth and fifth centuries, hymns, in the form of prayer songs (madrashe), dialogue poems (soghyatha) and verse homilies (mêmrê) were favoured in the Syriac-speaking areas of Christendom during this period and beyond.Footnote ¹⁷ No proper assessment of Greek hymns and homilies that honour the Virgin can be made without taking into account the Syriac contribution.Footnote ¹⁸ Because Marian liturgical poetry developed early in the Syriac-speaking world – and because this probably influenced the Greek liturgical tradition – I have chosen to include some early examples in this section of the chapter.Footnote ¹⁹

Praise of the Virgin Mary, especially for her role in the incarnation of Christ, began early in the Syriac context. Although it lies beyond my rough chronological limits, it is worth mentioning here the remarkable work known as the Odes of Solomon, which probably dates from the late second century.Footnote ²⁰ This set of hymns, which may have emerged from a Judaeo-Christian – if not gnostic – background,Footnote ²¹ adopts a daring approach to gender: not only is the Holy Spirit, as is customary in early Syriac poetry, described by means of feminine imagery, but so is the Father. Ode 19 portrays Τrinitarian involvement in Christ’s conception in the following way:

The hymn goes on to describe Mary’s labour, which is said to be without pain; however, she gives birth ‘like a strong man with desire’. The author’s willingness to play with gender imagery in this ode, as in others within the same collection, indicates a creative approach to the attributes and gifts of the divine Being; these works challenge listeners or readers to see God, along with those who acknowledge him, as manifesting both masculine and feminine qualities.

The fourth-century teacher (and possibly deacon) Ephrem the Syrian, who flourished in Nisibis and Edessa between about 307 and 373 ce,Footnote ²³ devoted considerable attention to the Virgin Mary in his prayer songs (madrashe) and verse homilies (mêmrê). She takes on a largely symbolic role in Ephrem’s poetry, representing the ‘Second Eve’, the container or material of the incarnate Christ, the Church, and a transfigured creation. As Sebastian Brock notes in his introduction to Syriac Marian liturgical poetry, ‘The Syriac poets – and above all St Ephrem … have a theological vision which might be described as holistic: for them everything in both the material and the spiritual world is mysteriously interconnected: nothing, and nobody, exists in isolation.’Footnote ²⁴ Mary is the quintessential link in this interconnected universe; she provides the physical body whereby God enters creation as God-man and restores it to the prelapsarian – and also eschatological – state that he intended. Ephrem also emphasises, however, the importance of Mary’s freely given consent to this event; here, with focus on the human ear as the receptacle of God’s purpose, he describes the Virgin as the ‘Second Eve’.Footnote ²⁵ Whereas the original Eve listened to the words of the Devil and thereby brought about the Fall, Mary listened to the words of the archangel Gabriel and initiated salvation for humankind.

It is striking, in comparison with the works of contemporary Greek Fathers, that Ephrem focuses so consistently on the role of the Theotokos in his elaboration of God’s dispensation for salvation. His theological position is nevertheless in line with Nicene views on the Trinity, with some of his statements about Christ’s two natures echoing those of Alexandrian theologians such as Athanasios:

We see echoes here of the lactic imagery that featured in the second-century Odes of Solomon. The important point for us to note, however, is Ephrem’s antithetical treatment of Christ’s two natures. Although the Son of God suckled Mary’s milk as an infant, he was simultaneously engaged in providing life to the universe. In portraying the Virgin as Christ’s birth-giver, Ephrem provides her with passages of direct speech towards her son, in which she meditates on his divine and human natures. Although such hymns are affecting, in that they seem to give Ephrem’s audiences access to Mary’s inner thoughts, he does not reveal much about her character or emotions – apart from her experiences of awe, astonishment and the effort to understand the momentous event that she was experiencing. These are highly Christological works, which lack the human portrayal of the Virgin Mary that would appear in both Syriac and Greek liturgical poetry a century or two later. Nevertheless, she occupies a central place in Ephrem’s meditations on the mystery of the incarnation. In several of his Hymns on Faith, for example, Ephrem applies womb imagery not only to Christ’s conception and birth from Mary, but also to his generation from God.Footnote ²⁷ And in Hymn 28, Mary’s womb is juxtaposed with the tomb in which Christ was laid after death: whereas these small and restricted spaces confined the uncontainable God, he also ‘bound’ – or gained power – over them in his incarnation.Footnote ²⁸

According to Ephrem, the Virgin Mary is the antitype for a wealth of Old Testament personages, places and objects, besides symbolising everyday aspects of creation such as palace, ship and the clothing Christ put on in his incarnation.Footnote ²⁹ Each of these images conveys in some way the Christological message: Mary is the container, material, or vehicle for God’s entrance into creation. In contrast again with his Greek contemporaries, Ephrem frequently emphasises the centrality of the Eucharist in Christian life. In this context, Ephrem describes the Virgin Mary as the purveyor, or container, of the body and blood of Christ.Footnote ³⁰ In addition to being his mother, Mary is Christ’s sister, bride, handmaid and daughter; her relationship with him is replicated in that with the Church, or the people who are members of Christ’s body.

Although Ephrem alludes to Mary’s mediating role, as the locus and agent of human salvation, he never describes her as intercessor, according to the definition that I provided in the Introduction.Footnote ³¹ As in the case of the fifth-century Greek preachers whose works we examined above, Ephrem’s emphasis is always Christological. He does, however, suggest in some hymns that women have become special recipients of Christ’s saving power, as a result of Mary’s role in the incarnation:

Mary, the Theotokos, helped to bring about salvation for all Christians; however, her female gender, which recapitulated that of Eve, offers special hope to women. This theme, which also appears in fifth-century homilies that celebrate the Virgin Mary, perhaps gains extra meaning in the light of Ephrem’s well-known pastoral care for women and establishment of all-female choirs of singers.Footnote ³³

In addition to Ephrem the Syrian’s writings, many of which place Mary at the centre of their Christological teaching, numerous anonymous works survive in the Syriac liturgical tradition. Sebastian Brock dates many of these to the fifth or early sixth century. They include both madrashe and soghyatha that survive in both early manuscripts and later compilations.Footnote ³⁴ Although T. J. Lamy published some of these works under the name of Ephrem, it appears that these attributions are untenable; they belong to a tradition which the latter helped to establish, but which continued to flourish a century or two later, thanks to many anonymous writers.Footnote ³⁵ The prayer songs that are included in Brock’s excellent translation of Marian writings, Bride of Light, were intended for the feast of the Commemoration of the Virgin which, as in Constantinople, was celebrated on 26 December in the West Syriac calendar and on the second Friday after Christmas in the East Syriac one.Footnote ³⁶

The emphasis in all of these prayer songs,Footnote ³⁷ as in the authentic works of Ephrem, is Christological. One of the most extensive works, Hymn 10, provides antithetical statements about Christ that juxtapose his status as a tiny infant, crying and suckling milk, with that of King and Creator of the universe. The following stanza sums up this paradox concisely:

The Virgin Mary gains holy status from this association, as all of the hymns make clear. She is invoked with typological and metaphorical epithets, as ‘a source of wonder to all the world’.Footnote ³⁹

In addressing the Theotokos as ‘spring that provides the fountain’, ‘ship that bears joy from the Father’, ‘young dove … [that] carried the Eagle’, along with many other images,Footnote ⁴⁰ these poets built on a rich typological tradition that was by now well established in the Syriac liturgical tradition. However, we also find some elements in the hymns that appear to be new, perhaps reflecting developments within this tradition that took place sometime between the fourth and fifth centuries. One such development is the hymnographers’ emphasis on Mary’s chaste and modest character, which makes her a perfect model for ascetic women:

Another hymn addresses the young girls who may have been members of the women’s choir for whom the work was intended, instructing them to ‘leap for joy’ and marvel at the wise and holy Virgin Mary.Footnote ⁴² A second shift in emphasis, which differs from Ephrem’s portrayal of Mary as the holy – but remote – Mother of God, is the attention which some hymnographers give to her maternal love for Christ. To cite just one example out of many, we find the following portrayal of the Nativity scene in Hymn 10 on Mary:

The theological purpose of passages such as this is to emphasise the paradox of Christ’s incarnation. This stanza contrasts with those in which he is celebrated as King and Only-Begotten Son of God. However, the poet also portrays the Virgin Mary as a motherly figure with whom his audience may identify and feel empathy. Such passages presage a development in the Greek liturgical tradition that would only reach full expression by about the middle of the ninth century.Footnote ⁴⁴

Increasing interest in Mary as a human mother, who experiences both rational and emotional reactions to the incarnation, is also apparent in the dialogue hymns (soghyatha), which belong to the fifth or sixth century but build on a tradition of dispute literature that began in ancient Mesopotamia.Footnote ⁴⁵ These hymns, which are mostly anonymous, may in turn have influenced the dialogic homilies that began to be composed in Greek from about the fifth century onward. They focus on biblical scenes, including the annunciation, nativity of Christ, his presentation at the temple, and others, adding long passages of direct speech between the main protagonists – as if in an attempt to create a form of liturgical mystery play. It appears, however, that dramatic hymns and homilies in both the Syriac- and Greek-speaking worlds were, like other liturgical compositions, sung or preached by the clergy within the normal offices or even eucharistic celebrations. Their purpose was didactic as well as dramatic: by emphasising the human thought processes and emotions of the Virgin Mary and other biblical characters, Eastern Christian liturgical writers conveyed the reality of the incarnation. The emphasis remained on Christ, whose simultaneous divinity and humanity were revealed through Mary, the all-pure Virgin and human mother.

The portrayal of the Virgin Mary in the dialogue hymns exhibits the full range of qualities that these two categories imply. We continue to see her more ‘motherly’ aspect in passages such as the following:

However, it is the scene of the annunciation that offers the greatest scope for developing Mary’s character by means of dramatic dialogue. In a long hymn that elaborates the encounter between Gabriel and the Virgin, the hymnographer introduces a section of dialogue after ten stanzas of narrative introduction. Following the archangel’s greeting, according to Luke 1:28, we witness Mary’s doubt and distrust of this unexpected visitor, followed by gradual acceptance of his message. Her response, in which she describes what she sees (a being who is ‘made of flame’ and ‘wrapped in coals of fire’),Footnote ⁴⁷ reveals not only an awareness of mystery, but also a healthy scepticism as she seeks to distance herself from the unfortunate credulity of Eve. Mary is also modest, however; she is ‘but a girl and cannot receive a man of fire’.Footnote ⁴⁸ Audiences listening to this dramatic dialogue would thus have been introduced to an entirely human young woman, who experienced a variety of reactions to this momentous encounter and who eventually understood – and agreed to – the conception of God (who is ‘all flame’) in her womb.Footnote ⁴⁹ It is difficult to believe that this genre, which appears to have flourished first in the Syriac liturgical tradition, did not influence Greek homiletic and hymnographic dialogic works. A few homilies, such as (ps-)Proklos of Constantinople’s Homily VI, followed by Romanos the Melodist’s dramatic kontakia, bear a close resemblance to these Syriac prototypes.Footnote ⁵⁰ The form would also be picked up later, from about the early eighth century, in Germanos of Constantinople’s homily on the Annunciation, as well as in kanons composed for the same feast.Footnote ⁵¹

One other important figure in the early Syriac liturgical tradition was the late fifth- and early sixth-century preacher Jacob of Serugh. Born in the village of Curtam, on the Euphrates, around the middle of the fifth century, Jacob became bishop of Serug in 519 ce. He composed more than seven hundred verse homilies (mêmrê), many of which remain unpublished.Footnote ⁵² English translations of Jacob’s works remain less numerous than those of his famous predecessor, Ephrem, but are gradually appearing, along with interpretative studies of his contribution to Syriac liturgical poetry.Footnote ⁵³ A collection of homilies on the Mother of God displays the same interest in her role in the incarnation that we have observed throughout this tradition, combined with attention to her ascetic and maternal qualities. Jacob stresses the mystery of this holy figure, which scarcely allows him to imagine her beauty and splendour.Footnote ⁵⁴ Like his anonymous contemporaries, however, he also emphasises her motherly tenderness towards the infant Christ, as we see in the following passage:

Or, in even more paradoxical language:

From the Odes of Solomon to this late fifth- and early sixth-century liturgical writer, the Syriac tradition embraces the feminine gender, with all its attributes, not only in association with the Virgin Mary, but also with the Trinity itself.

In concluding this short section on the treatment of Mary in early Syriac liturgical hymns and homilies, it is worth repeating my view that subtle changes occurred between the time that Ephrem was writing (during the first three quarters of the fourth century) and that in which a number of anonymous writers and Jacob of Serugh flourished (fifth and sixth centuries). We have noticed increasing interest in Mary’s personal qualities, as a model of asceticism, virginal girl and tender mother among the later liturgical writers. Although such details may have occurred sporadically in Ephrem’s hymns, he portrayed the Virgin above all as a symbolic theological figure who stood between the divine and created worlds. She used her free will and provided Christ with human nature but remained somewhat remote from the rest of humanity in this capacity. What appears to be lacking in all of these writers, however, is an awareness – or attention to – Mary’s intercessory power.Footnote ⁵⁷ The only exception to this rule, which is – perhaps significantly – associated with the feast of the Dormition, is Jacob’s homily on this subject. Here, after providing a narrative of Mary’s death that omits many of the miraculous elements that were by this time circulating in other Syriac sources, the homily concludes by invoking the Virgin Mary’s intercession on behalf of the faithful:

On the basis of this evidence, it is worth asking whether prayers to the Virgin Mary as intercessor before Christ, which were slow to emerge in Syriac liturgical writing, appeared in connection with speculation about her death and assumption into heaven. Narratives concerning this process appeared in written form only around the end of the fifth and beginning of the sixth century; can it be accidental that appeals to Mary’s intercessory power appeared in liturgical texts at about the same time?Footnote ⁵⁹ I shall return to this problem later, confining myself now to pointing out the circumstantial – and highly suggestive – evidence that might support such a theory.

The Georgian Ancient Iadgari: A Witness to Early Palestinian Hymnography?

The Ancient Iadgari, which was edited from seven manuscripts in 1980 and is still in the course of being translated into Western European languages, is a precious source for early liturgical celebrations in the churches and streets of Jerusalem and its surroundings.Footnote ⁶⁰ This liturgical collection, or Tropologion, which contains hymns for the entire year (including fixed and movable feasts, as well as ordinary weekdays and Sundays), survives in a number of Georgian manuscripts, most of which are preserved at the Monastery of St Catherine in Sinai.Footnote ⁶¹ Although the Georgian scribes were active in the tenth century (in some cases working at the Monastery of St Sabas in Palestine), they compiled and copied Georgian translations of a body of Greek hymnography that had been composed much earlier and which is now lost. These manuscripts include elements that would later be divided into separate books, such as the Menaion, the Triodion, the Oktoechos and others, in the Byzantine liturgical tradition.Footnote ⁶²

The date of the material that appears in the various versions of the Ancient Iadgari can be narrowed down to approximately the fifth (or possibly even the fourth) through to the early seventh century. Charles Renoux, who provides translations and commentaries of some of the texts that make up the Tropologion, shows that the Georgian scribes sometimes created composite works that were made up of ‘layers’ of individual stanzas, collected from a variety of earlier sources.Footnote ⁶³ Some of the earlier layers reveal the influence of fourth-century Christological formulations or early fifth-century liturgical homilies.Footnote ⁶⁴ Stig Frøyshov has shown that, in the case of the hymns known as kanons, the earliest examples may contain only two or three canticles (usually the eighth and ninth odes or, alternatively, the seventh to the ninth) or of four, rather than eight, tones for particular works.Footnote ⁶⁵ Other archaic elements include the presence of the second ode, which began to be omitted from kanons especially after the early eighth century, along with the omission of theotokia at the end of many odes.Footnote ⁶⁶ According to Frøyshov, a terminus ante quem for the Georgian Ancient Iadgari is provided by the omission of texts by seventh- and eighth-century hymnographers including Sophronios of Jerusalem, John of Damascus and Kosmas of Maïuma.Footnote ⁶⁷

One of the final sections of the Ancient Iadgari is a hymn collection arranged in eight modes, intended for the Resurrection services of Vespers, Matins and the Eucharist that are celebrated on Sundays. The structure is roughly the same as that of the Oktoechos, a liturgical book that is used to this day in Orthodox churches for Sundays throughout the fixed liturgical year.Footnote ⁶⁸ For reasons of space, I focus in the following discussion only on the so-called ‘Resurrection Hymns’ in the Ancient Iadgari, which contain a number of different forms of praise to the Theotokos.Footnote ⁶⁹ Much of this hymnography uses metaphorical and typological imagery to invoke and praise the Virgin Mary.Footnote ⁷⁰ Some verses also address her as intercessor, employing language that is similar to that found in the Akathistos Hymn. One of the most interesting sections of the Ancient Iadgari Resurrection Hymns is a series of Marian ‘Praises’ which appear in just a few manuscripts. These are added – at least in some manuscripts – at the end of the morning service (Orthros), accompanying the singing of Psalms 148–50. However, they also constitute a Mariological corpus of stanzas that could be used at various points in liturgical celebration. Many of these texts appeal to the Virgin as intercessor on a collective and personal basis.Footnote ⁷¹

Sinai Georg. 18, like most of the other witnesses to this tradition, was copied in the tenth century. It contains (in addition to its festal and paschal material) the Resurrection Hymns of the Ancient Iadgari. It is fragmentary, in that it contains only six of the eight tones, two of which are plagal, in this section of the codex.Footnote ⁷² Neither the theotokia of the first eight odes of the kanons (which are not always included), nor even the ninth, which is based on the Magnificat in Luke 1: 46–55, focus consistently on the Virgin Mary. Christological references to her nevertheless permeate this hymnography and she is sometimes invoked as intercessor, as we see in Ode Three of the kanon in the first plagal tone:

The Resurrection Hymns contained in Sinai Georg. 18 and 40 use high-flown Mariological imagery in their invocation of the Virgin, addressing her, for example, as ‘Theotokos’, ‘Mother of the Emmanuel’, ‘Mother of the King’, ‘Mother of Light’, ‘Cloud of Light’ and ‘Bride of Heaven’, along with other poetic or biblical epithets.Footnote ⁷⁴ The authors of these hymns also frequently stress the physical nature of the incarnation, as we see in the following kanon, Tone Three, Ode Five:

Another witness to the Resurrection Hymns, which was also compiled in the tenth century, is Sinai Georg. 34. This ‘vast liturgical encyclopedia’Footnote ⁷⁶ contains not only the Ancient and New Iadgari (Tropologia), but also a Horologion, a Calendar and other elements.Footnote ⁷⁷ Renoux, who has translated a part of the Ancient Iadgari section in his second volume of the Resurrection Hymns, suggests that its tenth-century scribe, Iovane Zosime, conceived of the whole manuscript as a compendium of ancient and new material, probably not intending all of its hymnography for contemporary liturgical purposes.Footnote ⁷⁸ Sinai Georg. 34 shares with Sinai 18 the poetic compositions known as the ‘Praises of the holy Theotokos’, which I mentioned above. A passage of intercessory invocation, taken from the Plagal Fourth Tone in both Sinai Georg. 41 and 34, celebrates the Virgin Mary in the following way:

This stanza pictures the Virgin Mary sitting at the right hand of Christ in heaven and begging him day and night to save her supplicants. It could only have been written in response to early dormition legends according to which her physical, as well as emotional, proximity to her Son could be envisioned.Footnote ⁸⁰ This means that the Marian ‘Praises’, unlike earlier material included in the Resurrection Hymns, may belong to a later – but still ‘ancient’ – stage of hymnographic composition.Footnote ⁸¹

The hymnographic material contained in the Georgian Ancient Iadgari thus represents a rich, but diverse, repository of texts that reflects liturgical celebration in Jerusalem before the beginning of the seventh century.Footnote ⁸² Renoux correctly stresses the importance of these early hymns, some of which might have been sung during the offices and stational processions which Egeria saw taking place in late fourth-century Jerusalem.Footnote ⁸³ Their connection with homiletic and hymnographic development not only in the holy city, but also in the wider Byzantine – and especially Constantinopolitan – world awaits further study; it is also clear that this source is highly significant in the history of hagiopolite Marian devotion.

The Akathistos Hymn

Turning from the Syriac and Georgian traditions, the rest of this chapter covers developments in Greek hymnography from about the fifth century onward. The Akathistos Hymn is probably the earliest example of Marian hymnography to belong to this category.Footnote ⁸⁴ The hymn, which is sometimes described as a kontakion,Footnote ⁸⁵ is one of the most important literary works of the Byzantine period, as well as being a masterpiece of Marian liturgical praise. It consists of twenty-four stanzas to which three prooemia (prologues), the second of which may have been composed in a later century, are attached. Each stanza begins with a narrative or didactic section, which might be described as the kontakion sections of the hymn. These are followed by strings of salutations in the form of litanies, which address the Theotokos with a multitude of poetic images and biblical types. An alphabetical acrostic runs through the whole hymn, affirming its completeness and also perhaps acting as a mnemonic device for singers. The salutations to the Virgin employ the word ‘Hail’ or ‘Rejoice’ (Chaire) for each invocation, according to the rhetorical device of anaphora – or the repetition of the same word at the beginning of successive lines. This practice was imitated in numerous Marian homilies and hymns in the centuries that followed. The Akathistos Hymn is sung to this day in Chalcedonian Orthodox churches of every jurisdiction. Its full delivery takes place in Matins of the fifth Saturday in Lent, but sections of the hymn are also sung on the four Fridays leading up to that date and on some other days of the liturgical year.Footnote ⁸⁶ The name that is assigned to the hymn, ‘Akathistos’, simply means, ‘Not sitting down’. The instruction that congregations should stand as the Akathistos Hymn is sung testifies to the importance and solemnity of this liturgical work.

Leena Mari Peltomaa, in her recent study of the Akathistos Hymn,Footnote ⁸⁷ dates it to the period between the Third and Fourth Ecumenical Councils, that is, to between 431 and 451 ce – and preferably to a date as close to the Council of Ephesus (431) as possible.Footnote ⁸⁸ Her adoption of this date, which challenges a scholarly consensus that has tended to place the hymn in the sixth century or even later,Footnote ⁸⁹ is supported by the Christological language and doctrine that it contains. Peltomaa suggests that this teaching reflects the theological context of the Council of Ephesus and that it shows no influence from that of Chalcedon, held twenty years later.Footnote ⁹⁰ In opposition to this argument (which is made largely on the basis of the hymn’s theological content rather than its generic form), it is worth pointing out that no hymnographic parallels, which might explain the refined and apparently fully fledged structure of the hymn, exist in early fifth-century Constantinople. Although the Akathistos Hymn is more declamatory than Romanos the Melodist’s kontakia, its metrical and poetic structure resembles the latter corpus more closely than any homilies that can be dated definitively to the fifth century.Footnote ⁹¹

My inclination to adopt an early sixth- rather than fifth-century date for the Akathistos Hymn, mainly on the basis of its highly developed poetic form, is reinforced by the presence of elements which, as we shall see in the following chapter, are lacking in the homilies of Proklos, Hesychios and other early panegyrists of the Theotokos. Most fifth-century liturgical homilies focus on Mary’s Christological importance, but not on her protective or intercessory power. The Akathistos Hymn, perhaps reflecting the Virgin’s growing importance as patron or defender of the imperial city of Constantinople, offers striking witness to this development. As we saw in the Introduction, appeals for protection from the Virgin appear not only in the famous second prologue, which was added to the hymn after 626 ce (possibly as late as in the early eighth century), but also in some of its original stanzas.Footnote ⁹² Stanza 23, for example, invokes the Virgin Mary as follows:

The second prologue, which builds on this foundation with even more explicit reference to the plight of a besieged capital city and its subsequent deliverance, adds the following lines:

Such invocation of the Virgin’s intercessory and protective functions suggests a later date of composition than that in which Proklos of Constantinople or Cyril of Alexandria was preaching. The Akathistos Hymn celebrates above all, as they did, Mary’s mysterious role in Christ’s incarnation, but it also recognises her intercessory power.

In addition to its appeals for help in ‘all kinds of dangers’, the Akathistos teaches Christological doctrine with the help of metaphor, typology and dramatic narrative. Such didactic methods reveal the hymnographer’s awareness and assimilation of earlier Greek – and possibly Syriac – liturgical texts that celebrate the Theotokos. The parallels with homilies by Proklos of Constantinople and (ps-)Basil of Seleucia are particularly striking, as Peltomaa has shown.Footnote ⁹⁵ Whereas most scholars agree that the homilies provided inspiration for the Akathistos Hymn,Footnote ⁹⁶ Peltomaa takes a different view, arguing that they may all have emerged from the same religious setting and have been mutually influential. Such a process would place the composition of the Akathistos Hymn during the three years that led up to the Council of Ephesus in 431 ce or shortly thereafter. In my view, however, (ps-)Basil of Seleucia’s Homily XXXIX belongs to a slightly later period, as we shall see in the following chapter. Its intercessory content suggests a date after the end of the fifth century, which perhaps brings it closer to the likely date of the Akathistos Hymn.Footnote ⁹⁷

The Christological teaching of the Akathistos is remarkable both for its adherence to the terminology of the Council of Ephesus and for its poetic and typological epithets for the Theotokos. Evidence of the hymn’s strict ‘orthodoxy’ can be found, for example, in the first prologue:

The emphasis on the unchanged nature of Christ, the Word, when he entered Mary’s womb and took on the ‘form of a servant’, reflects the teaching of such Alexandrian or Alexandrian-influenced bishops as Cyril and Proklos. The hymnographer presents complex doctrine here in the form of dramatic narrative: the archangel Gabriel (or ‘bodiless one’) hastens to Joseph’s house, finds the Virgin Mary, and discloses his paradoxical message. Gabriel also expresses his astonishment at the sight of the mystery; his reaction will be felt by every member of the congregation who joins in the refrain, ‘Hail, bride unwedded’.

Poetic or typological approaches to the role of the Virgin in this mysterious process are employed in other stanzas of the Akathistos Hymn, always in the form of acclamations or ‘chairetismoi’:

Such rich imagery is not only evocative in metaphorical terms, but it also has typological connotations. Fifth-century preachers including Hesychios of Jerusalem, Proklos of Constantinople and Cyril of Alexandria compared Mary to the untilled earth out of which God created Adam.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ Christ, as the Second Adam, thus recapitulated this divine act, allowing humanity to be restored to its original – but now deified – state. But the Virgin could also assume a range of other natural guises: she was the twig from which the ‘unfading bud’ would bloom, the tiller of the fertile field, the table that (in a eucharistic sense) would hold the body and blood of Christ, and so on. Such symbolism is never restricted to just one meaning in Byzantine liturgical texts such as this; it offers layers of possible interpretation, thereby suggesting the limitless qualities of the human container and nurturer of Christ. The natural imagery that appears in the Akathistos Hymn is also effective in its sensuality. Singers or listeners are induced to visualise lush and fertile landscapes in their mind’s eye. This is the original and undefiled creation that God created and saw as ‘good’. Mary thus stands for the receptive, but also productive, creation that was intended for salvation.Footnote ¹⁰¹

Peltomaa is correct, however, in her assertion that neither the fifth-century homilies nor the Akathistos Hymn ‘describe Mary as a personality’.Footnote ¹⁰² In other words, the Virgin is treated more as a theological concept than as a real person, with female and motherly qualities, in these liturgical works.Footnote ¹⁰³ This aspect of the hymn suggests that it may have been composed earlier than the time at which our next important hymnographer, Romanos the Melodist, was active. The latter, as we shall shortly see, developed an image of the Mother of God that was both human and maternal – in fact, as Sarah Gador-Whyte has memorably put it, she became in the hands of Romanos ‘a suburban mum’.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ Nevertheless, as I argued above, the sophisticated structure of the Akathistos Hymn suggests to me, like numerous other scholars but pace Peltomaa, a date towards the end of the fifth or beginning of the sixth century. This would allow time for the hymnographer, along with other liturgical writers whose work may not survive, to have fully absorbed the doctrinal and rhetorical developments of the first half of the fifth century. The absence of references or allusions to the Council of Chalcedon in the Akathisthos Hymn may reflect diplomacy rather than ignorance on the part of its author, since appealing to a wide range of religious opinions was more important in the post-conciliar period than propagating a divisive – if officially accepted – doctrinal definition.Footnote ¹⁰⁵

Romanos the Melodist

This sixth-century hymnographer was, as many scholars acknowledge,Footnote ¹⁰⁶ the greatest liturgical innovator of his period; I shall therefore focus on his work for the remainder of this chapter.Footnote ¹⁰⁷ Romanos was probably born in Syria and became a deacon in Berytus (modern Beirut); he moved to Constantinople during the reign of Anastasios I. He worked as a deacon in a church that was located in a district of the imperial city called tou Kyrou where he composed numerous kontakia that expounded biblical (both Old and New Testament) narratives.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ The Virgin Mary occupied a central place in Romanos’ understanding of the divine dispensation. Scholars have not yet determined whether Romanos was inspired to develop such a dramatic portrayal of the Virgin by Greek or Syriac liturgical sources – or even, as later legend suggested, by the Mother of God herself.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ Nevertheless, it is clear that Romanos visualised, probably in response to strong popular devotion in Constantinople during the reign of Justinian, a Virgin Mary who was entirely human and maternal while remaining mysteriously virginal.Footnote ¹¹⁰ According to Romanos, Mary spoke for and as one of the congregation, while also occupying a privileged position as mother of Christ.Footnote ¹¹¹ The richness of this characterisation, which managed to incorporate all of the elements in the Marian liturgical tradition that we have noted so far while also inventing new ones, would have an impact on Greek preachers and hymnographers for centuries to come.Footnote ¹¹²

Romanos the Melodist has attracted a huge amount scholarly interest since the beginning of the twentieth century.Footnote ¹¹³ This has gained momentum in recent years, with various new studies of the sixth-century hymnographer, along with translations of his kontakia, appearing in a variety of languages.Footnote ¹¹⁴ However, as Thomas Arentzen noted in 2013, there were – until quite recently – surprisingly few investigations into the role of the Virgin in the Melodist’s kontakia.Footnote ¹¹⁵ The problem is slowly being rectified, not only thanks to Arentzen’s work on the subject, but also to contributions from Leena Mari Peltomaa and Sarah Gador-Whyte. Peltomaa, who notes that out of about sixty authentic works, nine kontakia give Mary a central role in their narratives, examines their portrayal of her as virgin, ‘Second Eve’, mother and intercessor.Footnote ¹¹⁶ A second article, published five years later, provides focused analysis of Mary’s role as intercessor according to various kontakia by Romanos.Footnote ¹¹⁷ Gador-Whyte has meanwhile examined the Virgin Mary’s various aspects in a more gendered way, contrasting her ‘motherly’ characteristics with more masculine ones, as defender of Constantinople.Footnote ¹¹⁸ Following this work, Arentzen contributed a rich and provocative doctoral thesis on Romanos’s treatment of the Virgin Mary,Footnote ¹¹⁹ which has now been revised and published as a monograph.Footnote ¹²⁰ While not denying the various categories that both Peltomaa and Gador-Whyte identified, Arentzen urges against the impression that Romanos presents a ‘schizophrenic’ Virgin; he argues that she appears in various kontakia as a fully integrated human being, rather than as a theological or civic symbol.Footnote ¹²¹

In the discussion that follows, I largely accept this analysis on the grounds that the chief purpose of Romanos the Melodist’s kontakia appears to be the dramatic engagement of congregations with the Virgin Mary as a sympathetic – albeit powerful – human mother. Her transition from a state of fecund or expectant (as opposed to ascetic) virginity to one of protective motherhood is one with which lay audiences (especially women) could identify.Footnote ¹²² However, the deeper Christian symbolism of these dramatic narratives would not have been lost on sixth-century Constantinopolitan congregations either. Romanos portrays the transformation of humanity, or the Church, in its ongoing encounter with Christ through the agency of his mother Mary. This, I would argue, is framed within a ‘high’ or neo-Chalcedonian Christology that stresses both the divinity of Christ and his condescension in assuming human nature. The Theotokos thus acts preeminently as the person through whom Christians gain access to her Son; this role works simultaneously in her historical acceptance of the incarnation, but also in personal or collective devotion. Above all, however, Romanos portrays this process in a dramatic way, engaging his listeners dynamically with his interpretation of biblical (and sometimes apocryphal) narratives.

To begin with the Christological framework within which Romanos worked, it is worth recalling Aloys Grillmeier’s assessment that this hymnographer ‘systematically avoids speaking of Christ’s humanity. The accent is always on the divinity.’Footnote ¹²³ This position is illustrated, for example, in the kontakion on the marriage at Cana when Christ delivers a short homily to his inquisitive mother, reminding her not only that he created the universe, but that he also planned human salvation by taking flesh from her:

Romanos also follows earlier liturgical writers, both Greek and Syriac, in describing Christ’s simultaneous divinity and humanity by means of antithetical statements, as we see in his kontakion on the Hypapante (Presentation of Christ into the Temple) :

Although Romanos portrays Christ, in accordance with Chalcedonian doctrine, as both God and man, he ‘retains a Christology from above’ while avoiding the one-nature theology of Severos of Antioch and his followers.Footnote ¹²⁶ It is now worth examining how this influenced the poet’s understanding of the Virgin Mary, as virginal birth-giver and mother of Christ.

Romanos portrays Mary, as the first witness of Christ’s incarnation, reflecting on this mystery as she cradles the infant Christ in her arms. She struggles to comprehend Christ’s simultaneous divinity and humanity, as we see in another stanza of the kontakion on the Hypapante:

The Virgin also recognises the consequences for herself of this miraculous birth. In the less well-known second kontakion on the Nativity of Christ, she exclaims:

Romanos occasionally goes so far as to call Mary ‘Queen’, implying that ordinary people may approach her as long as they address her with appropriate respect and deference.Footnote ¹²⁹ A high Christology thus implies a high Mariology in the works of Romanos. However, it is precisely within this theological context that the hymnographer describes the Virgin’s essential role as mediator and intercessor for Christians.

Romanos the Melodist, perhaps building on the imagery of the Akathistos Hymn, refers frequently to Mary’s role as intercessor before Christ. Such passages, as in later Byzantine hymnography, frequently appear in the closing strophes of the kontakia; they reflect the homiletic convention of closing speeches with respectful invocation of the holy subject or subjects. In the last three strophes of his first kontakion on the Nativity of Christ, Romanos has the Virgin herself pray to Christ on behalf of the rest of humanity. An extract of this speech reads as follows:

Romanos more often invokes either Christ or the Virgin in his own voice, speaking for the rest of humanity as he seeks their help:

The kontakion on Mary at the cross, which must have been intended for the vigil on Good Friday, invites congregations to share her doubt and extreme grief at the impending crucifixion of her son. Niki Tsironis correctly notes the influence of this powerful hymn on subsequent Byzantine treatments of this theme, both in hymnography and homiletics.Footnote ¹³² As in his other kontakia, Romanos portrays the dynamic encounter between Christ, as like a lamb he is ‘being dragged to slaughter’,Footnote ¹³³ and his mother, who is apparently following the procession to Golgotha. The kontakion contains a prologue, in which the hymnographer calls to the congregation to ‘praise him who was crucified for us’,Footnote ¹³⁴ followed by seventeen strophes. The latter present a dramatic dialogue between Mary and Christ, with the former speaking for seven strophes and the latter for nine. The seventeenth strophe is voiced by Romanos who, by means of direct address to Christ, sums up soteriological meaning of his incarnation and crucifixion – also acknowledging his gift of ‘freedom of speech’ (parresia) to the ‘honoured Lady’ (tē semne).Footnote ¹³⁵

Christ remains in this kontakion, as in the others that we have examined, the God and Creator who knows exactly why he must undergo such suffering and how the story will end. When the Virgin asks why (when he could perform miracles and give life to corpses such as Lazarus) he does not simply give an order for Adam and the rest of humanity to be raised up from Hades, she does not receive a direct reply. Instead Christ explains, using medical imagery, that Adam and Eve need healing:

It is possible that by focusing on the need to ‘heal’ Adam and Eve, rather than providing a detailed theological explanation of Christ’s crucifixion, Romanos wishes to shift the focus towards Mary’s intercessory role in human salvation. Alternatively, this may simply reflect his awareness that contemporary congregations were more interested in the human, rather than the theological, impact of this world-changing event. In any case, the emphasis shifts in the next two strophes to whether or not Mary will see her son again. Christ reassures her, following a long-standing patristic tradition, that she will be the first to see his resurrected body:

Although courage is restored in the fifteenth strophe, the Virgin reveals her inner doubts and sorrow in all of her preceding speeches. She is a fully human mother, who shouts, protests and sheds tears in her efforts to dissuade Christ from his tragic purpose. She mourns the fact that she alone is faithful since the disciples, including Peter, have all abandoned their teacher. But above all, she weeps because this is her child who is on the way to unjust slaughter. The contrast between Mary’s ignorance, which causes such lament, and Christ’s calm understanding of the reason for his crucifixion is conveyed mainly, as we have seen, by means of direct speech. This drama, which is resolved when Mary is taught the truth and declares that she is ‘conquered by love’,Footnote ¹³⁸ depicts an emotional transition from doubt to belief in the resurrection of Christ. But above all, it is worth noting an element that would survive into later Byzantine liturgical treatment of this theme: namely, that the pain and suffering which Christ experienced on the cross can best be expressed through the experience of his mother. This helps to explain the emphasis not only in hymnography for Good Friday, but also in the short hymns known as stavrotheotokia which are sung throughout the year, on the suffering of the Virgin Mary. Whereas Western medieval theologians, liturgical writers and iconographers shifted focus to a suffering Christ, their Byzantine counterparts preferred to show the depth of this pain through the experience of his mother.Footnote ¹³⁹

The most striking innovation in Romanos the Melodist’s portrayal of Mary thus consists in his literary development of her character by means of dramatic dialogues and monologues according to the rhetorical device of ethopoiia. Such treatment is not confined to the Theotokos; as Georgia Frank and others have shown, the hymnographer explores the thoughts and reactions of many other biblical and even apocryphal characters in his effort to bring their narratives to life for sixth-century congregations.Footnote ¹⁴⁰ In the case of the Virgin Mary, we join her at the scene of the nativity, reflecting in solitude or welcoming three exotic visitors, at the meeting with Symeon in the temple, at the marriage at Cana, on the way to the cross and in many other settings. Romanos skilfully draws his listeners into an empathetic relationship with Christ’s mother, encouraging them to enter into her state of awe, tender love for her divine Son, fear, and perplexity. The underlying purpose of such teaching is of course to convey the paradoxical doctrine of Chalcedonian Christianity. However, what appears to be new is the liturgical poet’s interest in engaging his audience fully in this mystery, which is not merely remembered as biblical narrative but is also experienced sensorially in liturgical and sacramental ceremony.

Conclusion

Although Byzantine Marian hymnography may have been slow to develop, it had earlier roots in the Syriac and Jerusalem liturgical rites, as evidenced by later Georgian compilations of hymnbooks. Such praise was inspired in the first place by Christological reflection on Mary’s important role in the incarnation of Christ. She is described in the Syriac hymns of Ephrem and other melodists as the ‘bridge’ between God and humanity. However, the Theotokos also represents a microcosm of the universe, embodying the transfigured creation into which God chose to enter in his human incarnation. Intercessory content, which reflected growing belief in Mary’s own transition to heaven after death and her consequent ‘freedom of speech’ with her Son, began to appear in the course of the fifth, but especially in the sixth century in both Oriental and Byzantine Christianity. It is witnessed in short prayers, or amulets, that have been discovered in Egypt, in many of the sung homilies and hymns of the Syriac churches, and in the early Byzantine Akathistos Hymn. The early stichera and kanon stanzas that appear in the Georgian Ancient Iadgari, or hymnbook, which reflect the Jerusalem rites before the seventh century, are more difficult to date. However, they offer ample witness to growing devotion to the Theotokos in this region. Although Mary thus has both doctrinal and intercessory importance before the middle of the sixth century, she remains, in the words of Ioli Kalavrezou, ‘a concept’ rather than a human, and above all, maternal person.Footnote ¹⁴¹ It is finally in the hymns of Romanos the Melodist that we see a truly rounded portrayal of the Mother of God. This creative hymnographer used narrative, dramatic dialogue and direct address in order to bring biblical stories, along with their chief protagonists, to life for Constantinopolitan congregations.

The reception of the various hymnographic traditions that I have described in this chapter varied, according to time, place and liturgical setting. Some aspects of this hymnody are universal: regardless of their place in divine liturgies, offices or private prayer, such texts offer praise, invocation and theological instruction. The choirs or individuals who sang the hymns would obviously have absorbed such content the most, whereas listening congregations – even if they joined in refrains or ‘alleluias’ – might not have heard every phrase or nuance. Susan Ashbrook Harvey has shown that not only men, but also women, participated in the singing of hymns in the Syriac churches.Footnote ¹⁴² There is no evidence for such a practice in the Greek-speaking world, apart from the likelihood that female monastics sang the psalms and their responses, along with other hymnography, in their monasteries. What we can say is that kontakia such as those composed by Romanos the Melodist were intended to be understood. This hymnographer uses relatively simple koine Greek, lively narrative, dialogue and apostrophe in order to engage his audiences. Hymnography remained one of the most important ways in which theology was taught in the Byzantine Church – as it continues to be today in modern Orthodox Churches. It also provided an opportunity for direct address and supplication to the Theotokos, who represented the meeting place of humanity and divinity in both theological and intercessory terms.