Architecture and Afterlife: Small Portable Shrines and Ritual Activities from Tyre to Ibiza Open Access

ABSTRACT

The miniaturization of architecture in past and modern societies is a cross-cultural phenomenon, which has received enormous attention in scholarship, particularly in works relating to the Bronze and Iron Age eastern Mediterranean. This article focuses on some small-scale terracotta buildings known from Phoenicia around the seventh to the sixth centuries BCE, argues for their identification as portable shrines, compares them to similar examples from Cyprus, and includes finds from Carthage, Malta, and Ibiza in the discussion. All of this evidence reflects a time when small chapels were increasingly adopted in Phoenician architecture, reproduced at different scales in multiple media, and used in a variety of contexts. Finally, Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8 and other funerary assemblages yielding portable shrines support the idea that they were the focus of ritual activities at burial sites, and their deposition may have followed their use in practices involving storytelling, the libation of scented liquids, and/or the burning of aromatic substances.

The production and use of small-scale buildings is a phenomenon attested in various cultures and regions in antiquity as well as in modern times (e.g., Schattner 1990; Muller 2001, 2002: 171–73; Payne 2009; Pillsbury et al. 2015; Selbitschka 2015; Guillouët 2020). A variety of edifices—particularly houses and temples but also palaces, other domestic structures, workshops, and granaries—can be represented. They can be made of different raw materials (e.g., terracotta, stone, wood, and metal) and are variously used in many contexts. The relation between these small-scale examples and real-life architecture is debated (e.g., Haselberger 1997; Oggiano 2008; Kletter 2015: 70–75), but the frequent adoption of terms such as “models” (e.g., Bretschneider 1991; Schoep 1994; Katz 2016) or, more occasionally, “replicas” (David 2021) has sometimes implied their use to show how actual buildings looked in past societies (e.g., Garfinkel and Mumcuoglu 2019).

In the eastern Mediterranean, there is a long history of architectural miniatures during the Bronze and Iron Ages, but this tradition was not continuous, and its sources of inspiration were varied. Despite the large and growing body of studies on small-scale architecture in this region (e.g., Bretschneider 1991; Muller 2001, 2002; Daviau 2008; Kletter 2015; Muller 2016; Katz 2016), attention has more rarely focused on exploring and differentiating their uses. This article reconsiders a very small but rather consistent group of architectural miniatures from southern Phoenicia and similar examples from Cyprus and further west during the late Iron Age and Persian periods to explain their prevailing use in cemeteries by considering the associated finds, to identify possible activities involving them, and to determine what kind of users and audience were attending these ceremonies.

Assembling the Data from Phoenicia and Further West

Various traditions of making architecture in miniature are well attested in the Levant during the third to first millennia BCE, with the southern region providing the overwhelming evidence, especially during the Iron Age. A more scattered and scarce group is currently known from the central Levant, where Kamid el-Loz—located in the southeastern part of the Beqa’a Plain—attests to the use of small-scale architectures during the Late Bronze Age (Berkheij-Dol 2012: 67–75, with references). Additional evidence from the coastal area of this region, which is conventionally known as Phoenicia during the Iron Age, dates to a much later period (ca. seventh–sixth centuries BCE). These artifacts show similarities with contemporary examples from Cyprus, but they can also be confronted with more occasional finds from Carthage, Malta, and Ibiza in the western Mediterranean.

Overall, Phoenician-type architectural miniatures amount to a rather small corpus, but their current number remains uncertain pending the regional/cultural and typological attribution of a few artifacts from the antiquarian market and some fragments, as well as doubts and terminological inconsistencies in the typological definition of this class.¹

Phoenicia

The presence of small-scale architecture in ancient Phoenicia is currently limited to a few sites in the southern region: Tyre and its hinterland, Sarepta, and Achziv.² Sarepta has presently yielded the most varied group of terracotta architectural miniatures. Despite their fragmentary state, one can easily infer that they largely represented sacred buildings based on entire or more complete parallels from other areas. Accordingly, the corner fragment of a possible cube-shaped example (Fig. 1:1) (Pritchard 1975: fig. 61:2; Pritchard 1988: 124, no. 21, fig. 37) can be compared to two portable shrines reportedly from Idalion in the Louvre Museum (Boardman 1971: 37–38, pl. XVIII:2–3; Caubet 1979: 94–95, nos. 1–2, pl. VIII:1–4; Muller 2016: 105, fig. 74a–b). Two additional fragments depict the upper left corner of the entrance to a building: the smallest one of them (Fig. 1:2) has incised cross-hatch decoration, which appears to render the vertical pillar flanking the door and part of a winged sun above the lintel (Pritchard 1975: fig. 61:3; Pritchard 1988: 124, no. 22, fig. 37), while the other (Fig. 1:3) shows the same portion of another building, with a row of pellets above a rope-like appliqué on the fronton (Pritchard 1975: fig. 61:7; Pritchard 1988: 124, no. 23, fig. 37). Scholars have observed that circular elements (e.g., clay pellets/knobs, reed-like impressions, perforated rows)—which are widely attested in the architectural miniatures of the eastern Mediterranean (e.g., Muller 2002: figs. 8–9, 23, 27–29, 173, 199, 205)—could have rendered pigeonholes, the ends of wooden beams, or a decoration (Maeir and Dayagi-Mendels 2007: 117; Soldi 2019).³ In contrast, the clay ribbon with incised short, straight parallel lines, usually positioned above the upper part of the door, documented for instance on the portable shrines from Tell Mumbaqa and Tell es-Sarem/Tel Rehov, recently has been interpreted as evidence of a folded curtain (Mumcuoglu and Garfinkel 2020).

Although neither the precise find context of the three examples nor their associated objects can be determined, the provenance of this group from Sounding X, an area in the northern part of Sarepta that was primarily the industrial sector of the settlement (Pritchard 1978: 71–72, 111), is noteworthy. The association between portable shrines and areas where industrial activities were carried out has already been noted in some Iron Age I–IIA sites in the southern Levant (Zilberg 2018: 78). Furthermore, one can observe how this group differs in size and shape from other Phoenician examples and wonder if regional, chronological and/or functional discrepancies may explain this distinction.

An additional portable shrine type of uncertain origin and date (Fig. 2), but said to come from Lebanon or Syria, is in the museum of the American University of Beirut (Seeden 1979; Muller 2002: 59–60, no. 165, with references). It is characterized by two standing female nude figures with hands on the abdomen flanking the door with multiple frames. As its closer parallel also comes from the antiquity market (Muller 2002: 370), these spatial and temporal questions remain unanswered, but a chronology around the eleventh to the tenth century BCE and a provenance outside Phoenicia, possibly from Transjordan (Daviau 2008: 297), is here considered more likely (contra Fontan and Le Meaux 2007: 183, cat. no. 73).

A small group showing some similarities stands out within this corpus of portable shrines. It includes three examples from Kharayeb/Tyre, Tyre al-Bass, and Achziv, demonstrating a certain consistency in southern Phoenicia, possibly around a very narrow period of time. Given their common features, one may assume that the dating to the late seventh to early sixth century BCE that can be assigned to the only stratified example—namely that from Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8⁴—should be extended to the other two terracottas from unknown find contexts.

Based on the number and type of finds (Fig. 3), Tomb 8 is the richest burial so far brought to light in the al-Bass necropolis (Aubet 2006). In this funerary assemblage, a Cypriot bichrome amphoroid krater served as a cinerary urn, a plain-ware plate was used upside down as a lid, and a red-slip drinking bowl was placed against the urn’s shoulder. At the bottom of the pit next to the urn base there were an Aegean import, broken plates, and a red-painted mushroom-rim jug, while the trefoil-rim jug usually accompanying it was possibly located outside the excavated area. A large rectangular wooden box sat on top of the urn. It contained four terracottas: a long-bearded mask, a horse rider, a portable shrine, and a standing figurine with raised hands before a cylindrical object (Fig. 4). Two stones marked the entrance of the pit, and, finally, some ceramics (i.e., one or two neck-ridge jugs, and plain ware plates) were deliberately smashed on the grave.

The portable shrine from this tomb represents a T-shaped one-room building (height ca. 16.5 cm) with a disc pellet on the lower center of the large rectangular fronton. Within its entrance, there is an arched plaque—with a conical pellet on the upper part—going from the lower front to the back wall. There are alternating traces of red and blue paint on the front walls, and blue color is also applied on the conical pellet (Metzger 2004: 420–32). There is a very similar example reportedly from Achziv (Culican 1976; Dayagi Mendels 2002: 160–62), probably originating from a tomb (Garfinkel and Mumcuoglu 2018: 98). It shows approximately the same features (Fig. 5), including the dimensions (height ca. 17 cm). The main differences regard the arched plaque that from the back wall curves upwards to form a narrower vertical projection decorated with a double row of four pellets. Also, red paint is applied to two different parts: one horizontal band is on the lower fronton, and the other traces, on the upper part of the plaque, form an inverted T-shaped silhouette. It has long been interpreted as a schematized seated figure (e.g., Weinberg 1978: 42–43; Dayagi-Mendels 2002: 162).

In this context, one can mention another terracotta (Fig. 6), allegedly coming from either Kharayeb (Culican 1976: 48, pl. 6B) or Tyre (Parrot, Moscati, and Chéhab 1975: 100, fig. 104; Karageorghis 1996: 62–63, fig. 46; Fontan and Le Meaux 2007: 358, cat. no. 232). Although the find context remains unknown, the first site is a sanctuary a few kilometers north of Tyre, where rituals in honor of deities related to motherhood and childhood were performed. A provenance from Kharayeb would be of particular interest, as the presence and use of small-scale vessels and terracottas have been pointed out at this cult site (Oggiano 2022). The upper part of this terracotta—probably corresponding to the building’s fronton—is lacking, but what remains depicts a seated figure with a conical headdress and a long necklace ending with a large disc-and-crescent symbol. Based on available photos (Nunn 2021: 101, figs. 4.30A–B), particularly a three-quarter view, one can observe that the body of the figure is formed by an arched plaque. The use of the same manufacturing technique may imply some parallels between these three terracottas and the possibility of using the latter one to better understand the other two and their features. Accordingly, if this observation is correct, the conical pellet in the Tyre al-Bass shrine should be compared to the conical headdress of the Kharayeb/Tyre example. A parallel between the portable shrines of Achziv and Kharayeb/Tyre has been proposed already, as well as the possibility of reading the two rows of six pellets on the one from Achziv as the figure’s crown (Dayagi-Mendels 2002: 162; Metzger 2004: 430; Kletter 2015: 70).

Alternatively, the curved profile of the arched plaque may have been a way to render the presence of a wind-blown curtain, allowing a glimpse of the divine symbol/figure at the center of the shrine. This idea of transparency can be particularly appreciated in Achziv’s example, where the red color indicating an inversed T-shaped silhouette may have been a sort of baetyl, similar to some marble examples with rows of discs that are known in the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion (Karageorghis 2000: figs. 1–2). Similarly, the conical pellet on the al-Bass portable shrine may represent the tip of a baetyl. Overall, these observations emphasize a higher degree of ambiguity in these images (see also Doak 2015: 104–5), possibly implying a less clear-cut distinction between aniconic and anthropomorphic divine imagery, and suggesting that ancient worshippers may not have perceived them as such distinct categories as modern scholars usually assume.

Although later evidence of portable shrines is currently not attested, the representation of similar architectures continues on different and mostly two-dimensional artifacts during the late Iron Age and Persian period in the Levant, but also in Cyprus, Egypt, and the western Mediterranean (Oggiano 2008). They include stelae and plaques made of stone or terracotta, with their front side elaborately decorated to resemble the facade of one-room small buildings (Fig. 7), which are usually interpreted as small shrines or chapels, commonly indicated as naiskoi (Bisi 1971; Gubel 1986; Caubet 2000; Sader 2005). These artifacts mirror the increasing importance of small-scale religious architecture, its reproduction in multiple media, and its use in many different contexts, particularly in the western Mediterranean, where it is even attested on jewelry, scarabs, and—much later—coins (Oggiano 2008: 291, 293, 295, figs. 5:4–5, 7:3, 8).

Within this group, some stelae from Sidon may provide evidence of the occurrence of variations from the same motif of the enthroned deity: one represents a side-view of a seated figure, and others show an empty throne (Gubel, Caubet, and Fontan 2002: 82–86, nos. 71–72, 75).⁵ At the same time, a limestone stela from Achziv is frequently mentioned when discussing this evidence. It depicts a building’s entrance within a recessed frame, at the center of which is the so-called bottle idol figure. The interpretation of this symbol is still debated (Doak 2015: 97–99, with references), but one may wonder if it could be—yet again—a schematization of a (seated?) figure.

Cyprus

A group of more than twenty terracotta portable shrines from Cyprus dating to around the sixth century BCE⁶ show similar features to those from Phoenicia (Karageorghis 1987: 25–27, figs. 9–13, pl. XXVII:130–31; Karageorghis 1996: 57–67, pls. XXXIV–XXXV, XXXVI:1–3; Hermary 2000: 47–48, no. 269, pl. 19; Flourentzos 2011: 177–80, nos. 1–3, figs. 2–4). For this reason, several scholars have long sustained a mainland influence upon the island (e.g., Culican 1976: 49; Karageorghis 2000: 51; Katz 2016: 51). Accordingly, Cypriot cities such as Amathus—where most examples are currently known—and Idalion would have adopted and locally adapted this Phoenician-type way of representing small-scale religious buildings, reviving what was a long-standing, local, and autonomous tradition of architectural miniatures (Karageorghis 1970; Caubet 1979; Karageorghis 1990). The Cypriot group—which appears to be very consistent in its features (Fig. 8)—shows similarities with the examples from the area of Tyre and Achziv. As material culture from these sites attests to a connection with Amathus during this period (e.g., Orsingher 2022), it seems likely that this coastal settlement may have played a major role in the Cypriot adoption of these clay shrines and their probable transmission to the nearby modern village of Agios Georgios Alamanou and the inland site of Idalion (and perhaps Alambra).⁷ All the examples presently come from cemeteries, except for a fragment from Kition-Kathari and another one from the West Terrace on the acropolis of Amathus, whose origin, either from the palace or a building closer to the sanctuary of Aphrodite, remains uncertain (Hermary 2015).

This corpus includes T-shaped shrines with the crescent/disc motif, which can be repeated multiple times, and a variable number of clay pellets. The building’s entrance, sometimes flanked by two free-standing pillars/columns, stands, or incense burners, can be empty or occupied by a human-like figure standing still or performing various ritual gestures, as well as what usually has been interpreted as an aniconic symbol, but—as aforementioned—may have been a schematization of an anthropomorphic figure. One may assume that some of the Cypriot examples showing a remarkable similarity to the few finds from southern Phoenicia would probably have been manufactured a short time from them, while those enriched with complex bichrome decoration (even on the back), the addition of original features (e.g., female figures, new gestures, and the crescent/disc motif instead of a sun disc), and the repetition of the same motif (e.g., pellets, crescent/disc symbol) may have been later products showing the local contribution to this class and its use. Although one cannot necessarily assume a correspondence of meanings between the portable shrines of Cyprus and southern Phoenicia, the island’s corpus helps gain a better understanding of the group from the mainland (Doak 2015: 105–8). What are usually considered aniconic symbols or baetyls at the center of the shrine sometimes show two features—the rows of pellets and a band from which a disc-shaped element hangs—that also appear on figures with long hair in the Cypriot corpus, allowing their identification as a headdress and a necklace with a pendant or another type of jewelry respectively (Karageorghis 1996: figs. 40, 47; Flourentzos 2011: figs. 2–4). In Cyprus, this iconography has been connected to female deities, particularly Astarte and Aphrodite. This observation would reinforce the idea of a much more ambiguous distinction between aniconism and anthropomorphic cult images.

Other types of architectural miniatures are documented in Cyprus. Two already mentioned examples from Idalion are small-scale, cube-shaped buildings (Katz 2016: 90) showing features, such as the pillars with a lotus-shaped capital and the so-called Woman at the Window motif, that go back to the Levant (Winter 2016; Orsingher 2019).

Furthermore, an isolated case is the Egyptianizing stela or plaque from the British Museum’s Amathus Tomb 83 (Karageorghis 1994; 1996: 62, no. 7, fig. 45), possibly manufactured in Kition (Fourrier 2007: 139, no. 252). This is an entirely molded terracotta representing a small shrine (Fig. 9), with red and black paint emphasizing some features. The fronton is decorated with a frieze of uraei above a winged solar disc. A beardless figure, wearing an Egyptian shenti, stands at its center, his right arm bent against the chest and left one stretched down along the body. It can be confronted with some terracottas from Sidon (Caubet 2000) and a limestone stela from a “site near the temple” at Golgoi (Fig. 10) (Hermary and Mertens 2014: 310, 312, no. 439), where several types of figures stand in the center of Egyptianzing chapels. Figures in similar poses are also carved into the central pillar of two rock-cut tombs of Sulky in Sardinia (Oggiano and Pedrazzi 2013: 82–83, figs. 40–41).

Carthage

The North African metropolis has yielded two terracotta fragments showing a very similar decoration: a row of stylized uraei crowing an Egyptianizing cavetto cornice. One (Fig. 11:1) was found in a secondary position in an Augustan-period backfill at Dermech (Redissi 1999), while the other (Fig. 11:2) was in a destruction layer of the Punic period in the so-called Magon quarter (Kraus 1991: 257, no. Tk6, pl. 67:g). They were recently compared to a remarkable limestone stela (Fig. 11:3) from Paul Gauckler’s Demerch Tomb 324 (ca. 575–525 BCE), displaying similar features (Orsingher 2019). If this parallel is correct, they should be identified as stelae/plaques representing Egyptianizing small temple facades. Given their state of preservation, one cannot determine the subject at the center of the shrine. However, this scheme recalls the terracotta from Amathus Tomb 83 and its parallels. Both the examples from Dermech were probably included in burial assemblages, while the third one possibly originated from a domestic context, once again attesting to the predominant but not unique use of these artifacts in cemeteries. The evidence from Dermech Tomb 324 (i.e., a miniature rock crystal situla, an Etrusco-Corinthian aryballos, and a lotus-shaped stand) is noteworthy as it supports the suggestion that libation activities involving a small quantity of precious (and scented?) liquids were performed around the stela.

Ibiza

An even more western example of clay portable shrines comes from the necropolis of Puig des Molins in Ibiza (Fig. 12), where it was discovered during the early twentieth-century excavations carried out by Antonio Vives y Escudero (1917: 174, pl. C:4). Thus, the absence of precise information on its find context is not surprising. The current lack of similar terracottas from the western Mediterranean suggests—in the light of the historical connection between this small Balearic island and the North African metropolis (Costa 2018)—assigning it a date close to that of the finds from Carthage. This terracotta is an almost cubic box with the front open and a single roofed room: it measures 14.0 × 14.0 × 13.5 cm, and is 1.0 cm thick. The front and back corners are angular. The three sides and the roof are plain. The facade is topped by a rectangular fronton, which is decorated with two small, nonaligned, rounded pellets. A horizontal imprint is visible on the front floor of the inside room, perhaps indicating the original presence of another element, which could have been a divine symbol or a clay/metal figurine, similarly to those found in association with the portable shrines of Ashkelon (Stager 2008) and Hazor (Garfinkel 2020: 675, fig. 8.2), which date to 1650–1600 BCE and the thirteenth century BCE respectively.

Apart from the examples of Carthage and a small-scale limestone shrine (Fig. 13) from the sanctuary of Tas Silġ in Malta (Moscati 1973; Bonzano 2021: 90, fig. 5b), the terracotta from Ibiza currently appears as an isolated find in the western Mediterranean. Accordingly, its relation to previous traditions of architectural miniatures—from which it differs in size and shape—remains unclear, but it shows that the use of small-scale sacred buildings in burials was occasionally resumed and renewed even in regions far away from Phoenicia.

A Contextual Analysis: Portable Shrines and Associated Materials

When trying to characterize what kind of activities may have needed small-scale (religious) buildings, a first aspect to consider is whether portable shrines and stelae/plaques representing chapels may have served the same purpose and therefore—notwithstanding their typological differentiation—can be discussed together. At present, this cannot be established with certainty but seems a real possibility based on two considerations: (1) the use of the molding technique (Bolognani 2020: 43, fig. 5g) supports a later occurrence of stelae/plaques, probably when portable shrines are no longer attested; (2) both groups were used in similar contexts, with most of the finds consistently coming from burials. Accordingly, the analysis of their find contexts and associated artifacts is the starting point for an in-depth investigation of the uses and users of architectural miniatures.

Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8: Iconography, Meaning, and Possible Uses of the Terracottas

The best-case study is Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8, where the portable shrine is associated with other terracottas: a horse rider wearing a horned helmet, a figure with raised hands standing before a cylindrical object, and a bearded mask.

The figure riding a horse is partially broken (Lehmann-Jericke 2004), but—as the left hand holds a round shield—can be recognized as a warrior figure. The little facial detail does not help define the figure’s gender, but it is usually assumed that this group represents horsemen, although their human or divine nature is debated (on those from Judah, see Kletter and Saarelainen 2014). In this case, the horned headdress—which is uniquely attested (but for parallels of other features, see E. Mazar 2001: 145–46)—assures its identification as a deity, particularly one related to war. Attempting to identify the precise deity may be a futile undertaking in light of current difficulties in associating iconographies and Phoenician gods when inscriptions are lacking (Garbati 2012; Oggiano 2021; Orsingher 2021, with references). There is no straightforward evidence, but Astarte can be represented (in a sitting position) on horseback, sometimes while holding a shield (Cornelius 2004: 40–45; 2014: 92–95). A late eighth- or sixth-century BCE figurine of a female deity riding a horse reportedly from Amrit is worthy of note (Gubel 2019: 355, fig. 23.2). Reshef and Baal-Seth are other deities riding horses in a standing position (Kletter and Saarelainen 2014: 208). Furthermore, while E. Mazar (2001: 146) proposed that the horned headgear of this figurine may symbolize “the god Baal,” it may be worthwhile to recall that Melqart can be depicted not only as a warrior deity but also has been tentatively recognized as a figure in a chariot on a decorated silver bowl from Praeneste dating to the end of the eighth to early seventh century BCE (Cecchini 2010).

Conversely, it is unclear whether the standing man with both hands raised and a conical headdress should be characterized as a priest or a deity. Given its stylized square body, this figurine has been considered “an anthropomorphic shrine-model or a figurine with its body shaped as a shrine” (Metzger 2004: 433). Based on whether one considers it to be of divine or human nature, a different understanding of the represented act can be proposed: either the recipient of the ritual action implied by the stand (e.g., fumigation, or liquid/food offering) is depicted or the worshipper performing it. Neither do the parallels known for the headdress nor those for the gesture currently help resolve the uncertainty. Raised hands are indeed attested in the depiction of a variety of divine and, mainly, human characters (Orsingher 2020: 152, 156–57, figs. 5–8, with references). However, most frequently only one raised hand is shown, while, when two are depicted, they are usually in front of the chest and not, as in this case, at shoulder height. The size of this terracotta is remarkable—it is slightly taller than the architectural miniature—as is the similarity between the conical headdress of this figure and that of the enthroned deity in the portable shrine from Kharayeb/Tyre. These observations—and the unusual shape of the body—may favor a divine reading of this artifact, even though further examples are needed to give a definitive answer.

Within this small-scale assemblage, the presence of a life-size bearded mask is of interest (Karageorghis 2004). It recently has been considered as part of a group representing superhuman beings related to rites of passage, perhaps embodying old adults (Orsingher 2018: 273, 280–81, fig. 15). This mask hints at the interaction between the miniature world and the real one that surrounded Tomb 8’s deceased—who was “older than infant I” and of undetermined gender (Trellisó Carreño 2004: 269)—and those who buried and mourned the dead.

Consequently, the wooden box may have potentially contained four images of deities: the one schematically represented or hinted at in the small portable shrine, the long-bearded mask, the horse rider, and the one performing some ritual gesture. This assemblage was previously interpreted as a way of putting the deceased under divine protection (Aubet 2006: 45; Oggiano 2008: 283). If this was the case (or also the case), why four terracottas, why four images of the same god, or different deities, and why include a possible human character? Was it (only?) a way to ensure greater protection for the journey of the deceased into the afterlife? Or were they the equipment belonging to someone actively involved with religious activities and connected to the deceased? Whatever purpose they actually served, the fact that they were made of the same clay (Lehmann-Jericke 2004: 417; Metzger 2004: 420), possibly in the same workshop, and stored in a single box strengthens the hypothesis that they were originally intended to be used together. At this point, one may wonder if all represented the same divine figure, or more than one and up to four distinct deities. If the same deity was depicted, the mask would support its identification as a male god. In this case, the three small-size terracottas could evoke iconic episodes of the myths about this deity, similarly to the representation—through distinct emblematic scenes—of Melqart’s story in the aforementioned bowl of Praeneste (Cecchini 2010). This scenario can be maintained even if identifying different gods, or gods and human characters. Accordingly, this group could have been used in ceremonies including masked activities and storytelling, which may have had educational purposes involving myths.

Portable Shrines and Other Terracottas in the Cemeteries of Amathus

The possibility that these four terracottas were meant to be used together remains a captivating but still largely speculative hypothesis. However, one can observe that various tombs of Amathus containing portable shrines also yielded other terracottas, including some that can be related to the types attested in Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8. Accordingly, small-scale shrines appear to have been frequently associated with masks:⁸ Tomb 294 contained a long-bearded mask (Karageorghis 1987: 12, no. 142; 30, fig. 18, pl. XXVII), which is typologically not that distant from the Tyrian example, while a bull mask and one of an animal or hybrid creature come from Tombs 605 and 649 respectively (Karageorghis 1992: 800, figs. 22–23; Christou 1993: 722, fig. 12). Tomb 83 reportedly yielded a Bes-like head and at least three fragmentary masks, which represented a lion, a long-bearded figure and a divine bearded character with a horned headdress (Hermary 1996: pl. VI:2–3, 5; Karageorghis 1993: 111, 117–18, nos. 12, 32–33, 35, pls. LXV, LXVII–LXVIII). A similar case is Tomb 871, where four different characters showing human, animal, and/or hybrid features are depicted (Flourentzos 2010: 90–91, figs. 151–54), although only one can be considered typologically as a mask because of the openings for the eyes. Interestingly, small-scale incense burners, very similar to the cylindrical stand before the figurine with raised hands of al-Bass Tomb 8, occurred in Tombs 862 (Flourentzos 2010: 90, fig. 147) and 294, where a miniature figurine is also attested, which may have filled the empty space in the portable shrine from the same tomb (Karageorghis 1987: 9, 11–12, 28, fig. 15, pls. XVIII:88, XXVII:133). Furthermore, one can observe the presence of horse and rider figurines in the British Museum’s Tombs 25 and 83 (Smith 1900: 114, 116, fig. 165:2). The latter burial, apart from the horse rider with a rounded shield, also contained a fragmentary terracotta male head with the atef-crown (Hermary 1996: 18, pls. IV:2, VII:1).

This is not a conclusive argument because Cypriot tombs were used for many burials, probably for several generations. Consequently, one cannot exclude that these terracottas could have belonged to separate burials from different times. Nevertheless, one can observe that the cult image in the portable shrine in the Penn Museum—which has been traditionally considered to depict “a veiled figure raising its right hand to its face” (Betancourt 1971: 427)—may have alternatively represented someone holding the edge of a bull mask with an attached hide cape (Fig. 14), similarly to some terracotta figurines of maskers (e.g., Averett 2015: 13, 33, no. 63, fig. 10). This explanation would better fit the presence of lateral clay pellets, possibly rendering features of the animal’s head such as horns, eyes and/or ears.

Additionally, the corpus from Amathus shows the association of portable shrines with stands usually interpreted as incense burners and other possible installations (altars?), which hints at the performance of some rituals. The burning of scented substances and/or the pouring of liquids appear as the most likely possibilities. In this regard, the presence of painted decoration on the back of a few portable shrines suggests that they were meant to be viewed from all directions and that these images—which include flowers, possibly alluding to the sense of smell and/or the concept of regeneration—could have had a symbolic value in the practices involving these architectural miniatures.

Performing around Small-Scale Architectures in Cemeteries and Not Only

The frequent association of small-scale architecture and different types of miniature objects supports the hypothesis that these buildings may have been the focus of a variety of religious practices. Mention has already been made of possible libation activities in Dermech Tomb 324. A similar case—even though it does not come from controlled excavations—is a funerary assemblage reportedly from the vicinity of Mount Nebo (ca. tenth–eighth centuries BCE), which—beyond a portable shrine—contained two Cypriot-type juglets of small dimensions and an animal-shaped vessel (Weinberg 1978). At this point, one may wonder if the fragmentary juglets that were found crushed above the entrance of Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8 may have fulfilled a similar role before being destroyed.

Libation as a frequent practice in cemeteries continued into later periods, as can also be inferred by examining a stone stela in the shape of a naiskos probably from Sidon (see Fig. 7), where two figures pouring a liquid into the ground are depicted on its short sides (Gubel, Caubet, and Fontan 2002: 82–83, no. 71). Furthermore, evidence of the close relationship between portable shrines and libation can be found in the sanctuary of Golgoi–Ayios Photios (Fig. 15), where the offering of wine to the god Zeus is mentioned in a syllabic inscription engraved on a limestone small-scale building of unclear typology (Masson 1983: 292, no. 285; Hermary and Mertens 2014: 300, no. 421). This example raises another issue, which is the blurred line between the temple and funerary cults in antiquity, where the same type of installations, architecture, and activities sometimes can be observed.

How can we explain the occurrence of small-scale religious architecture in burial grounds? Do they imply the existence of some sort of mortuary chapels similar to the remarkable but rather unique case of Katumuwa at Zincirli/ancient Sam’al? As evidence of such real-life buildings is currently lacking in Phoenician/Punic-speaking areas, a possible explanation can be drawn from Tuvixeddu Tomb 79 at Cagliari (Salvi 2016: 114–15, note 41, fig. 12). The entrance passageway to the rock-cut chamber was carved with low reliefs in the shape of an Egyptianizing naiskos (Fig. 16). It was framed with pillars supporting a lintel with a frieze of uraei above a winged solar disc. This funerary architecture, even though probably of later date (ca. fourth century BCE), exemplifies the idea of the shrine as a doorway, a threshold, a possible way of communicating with the netherworld and the superhuman beings, to be intended as both deities and ancestors that may have protected the journey of the deceased and welcomed them to the afterlife (on the importance of thresholds in religious spaces, see Vella 2000: 43–44). The focus on the entrance of the shrine would mark the liminal character and use of the sacred building in this context, which would give sacrality to the inner area of the tomb and materialize a place suitable for dialogue with the netherworld and, at the same time, evokes the idea that the deceased, occupying the space usually held by divine figures or symbols at the center of the shrine, may have been sometimes divinized by ritually becoming an ancestor (see also Garbati 2022: 440–42).

Conclusions

Recalling the quote from Weinberg at the beginning of this article, the contextual examination of portable shrines and associated find assemblages offers fresh perspectives and a new set of hypotheses on the scaling-down and its relevance to funerary practices in Phoenicia and beyond. It was probably a limited phenomenon, at least if one pays attention to the occasional occurrence of portable shrines in tombs (and other contexts), in association with the burial of a small number of persons, who may have had special roles (e.g., priests?) or belonged to particular families or social groups.

The association between burials and miniatures / objects of small dimensions is well documented in the Phoenician/Punic Mediterranean. They included vessels, tools, boats, furniture, buildings, animals, and human-like beings. Why reduce the scale of these things? A possible answer implies the need to make them portable and usable in places/spaces they could not otherwise enter. In this process, their function could have been maintained or changed, acquiring a more symbolic nature by evoking an action that could not necessarily be fulfilled. A good example is the lack of or much smaller holding capacity of vessels, which may also have been used with different and sometimes more precious types of contents, such as oils, perfumes, and medicaments. According to L. Foxhall (2015: 3), “the change in scale may serve to make the ordinary extraordinary, signalling a change in the sociality of an object which mirrors its change in relation to the body.” A second answer, not necessarily disconnected from the previous one, is that scale reduction of something real or imagined makes it more manipulable, even by people like nonadults who otherwise would not be able to do it. In other words, it implies also the possibility of imagining children as potential users (but not necessarily the only ones) of miniaturized/small-scale artifacts in ritual contexts and recalls other essential aspects of the miniatures: their association with play and their use for educational purposes (e.g., Rivera-Hernández 2020). The prospect that one of the portable shrines may have come from a context associated with children, such as the sanctuary of Kharayeb, adds value to this line of research. At the same time, the presence of life-size masks in some burials would suggest the participation and interaction of persons from various age groups during the preparations for and the celebration of the funerary practices.

There is evidence of multiple activities associated with portable shrines. This does not necessarily imply a consistency in their use but shows that architecture in miniature may have been much more than silent objects. In particular, if one accepts the reading of the terracotta assemblage from Tyre al-Bass Tomb 8 as a reference to myths and ritual compositions, the funerary ceremony may have provided the opportunity for storytelling (see also Orsingher and Rivera-Hernández 2021). This would make even more sense with the burial of someone from a significant family or social group, because it could have implied a larger audience sharing and learning more about mythical traditions and rites helping to cope with death. Once again, the separation between funerary and sacred realms appears something more of the present day than antiquity.

Notes

References