Jewish–Christian Interaction in Ethiopia as Reflected in Sacred Geography: Expressing Affinity with Jerusalem and the Holy Land and Comemorating the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic Wars

Abstract

Affinity with the Holy Land, and especially with Jerusalem, is a common theme in the sacred geography of Abrahamic religions, expressed in prayer houses and holy sites. This theme was especially prominent in Solomonic Ethiopia, both among Ethiopian Orthodox Christians and among the Betä Ǝsraʾel (Ethiopian Jews). This article will examine expressions of affinity with Jerusalem and the Holy Land in Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites and religious architecture, and shed light on the interreligious discourse related to such expressions, as well as other forms of interreligious discourse expressed by these two communities in sacred geography. This will demonstrate that in Solomonic Ethiopia, affinity with the Holy Land was a core element in expressing an Israelite identity. Both the Betä Ǝsraʾel and the Ethiopian Orthodox Christians saw themselves as the biological and spiritual heirs of the biblical Israelites, and this concept played a key role in shaping their sacred geography to allude to biblical sites and events. This will also demonstrate that, building upon a vocabulary with common features, the sacred geography and religious architecture of each community was a means to express its unique identity. As such, it provides insight regarding differences in religious concepts.

1. Introduction: Sacred Geography and Religious Architecture as a Realm of Interreligious Discourse in Ethiopia

The concepts of Israelite heritage and affinity with the Holy Land, and especially with Jerusalem, have played a role of paramount importance in identity discourse, sacred geography, and religious architecture in Solomonic Ethiopia, most notably among the Ethiopian Orthodox1 and the Betä Ǝsraʾel.2 While the identity discourse of these two religious groups, as well as Ethiopian Orthodox sacred geography and religious architecture, have received considerable scholarly attention,3 Betä Ǝsraʾel sacred geography and religious architecture have been the subject of very little research.4 Subsequently, Betä Ǝsraʾel manifestations of and perspectives on themes expressed in Ethiopian sacred geography and religious architecture more broadly have not yet been examined in detail.5

This study will examine the interreligious discourse embodied in the holy sites of these two communities, with a focus on Betä Ǝsraʾel sites (due to the relative lack of research on these sites) and on the theme of affinity with the Holy Land, and especially with Jerusalem. It will also briefly refer to a second theme exemplifying interreligious discourse—the commemoration of aspects of the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic wars (fifteenth–seventeenth centuries) in religious sites. It will argue that while both communities built upon a common vocabulary of concepts, architecture, and sacred geography, these communities utilized this vocabulary to express a unique identity and define themselves vis-à-vis the other.

2. Israelite Heritage in Solomonic Ethiopia

Concepts associated with Judaism, Christianity, and Jewish–Christian relations in Solomonic Ethiopia are significantly different from their Western and Middle Eastern counterparts. A concept which plays a key role in Jewish–Christian dynamics in Ethiopia is that of Israelite heritage and ancestry: According to a tradition shared by the Ethiopian Orthodox and the Betä Ǝsraʾel, the Israelite religion was established in Ethiopia in the days of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. In its Ethiopian Orthodox form, this tradition is expressed in a literary work known as the Kǝbrä Nägäśt (Glory of Kings), considered the national epic of Christian, Solomonic Ethiopia, and compiled in the fourteenth century based on earlier material.6

According to the Kǝbrä Nägäśt narrative, the Queen of Sheba was the queen of Ethiopia. She conceived during her visit to King Solomon, and upon her return bore him his firstborn son. This son, referred to in the Kǝbrä Nägäśt as Bäynä Lǝḥkǝm7 and known in the Ethiopian tradition as Mǝnilǝk, later visited his father in Jerusalem, where Solomon offered to name him his successor to the throne. Bäynä Lǝḥkǝm preferred to return to Ethiopia, and thus, saddened by his son’s departure, Solomon sent with him the firstborn of his advisors and ministers, and of the elders of the kingdom, including Azaryas, the son of the High Priest.

Before their departure, Azaryas was instructed by an angel of God to remove the Ark of the Covenant from the Holy of Holies of the Jerusalem Temple, and secretly take it with him on the journey to Ethiopia. The removal of the Ark to Ethiopia is depicted in the Kǝbrä Nägäśt as a physical manifestation of the transfer of God’s favor from the Kingdom of Israel to the Kingdom of Ethiopia, which became, by virtue of the Israelite faith, of its rulers’ descent from the House of David, and of the Israelites accompanying Bäynä Lǝḥkǝm, a second Israel, and its people—Israelites.

Davidic descent was thus considered a main source of legitimacy for the Solomonic dynasty, which rose to power in 1270 and reigned until its last monarch, Haile Selassie (Ḫaylä Śǝllase) I, was overthrown in 1974 (Kaplan 2011). Linked to this concept, and to the concept of the Israelite ancestry of the Ethiopian People, in the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition, is the concept of Ethiopia as a second Promised Land. This latter concept was expressed in medieval and modern times through localities, holy sites and prayer houses which derived their names from or were considered affiliated with sites (mainly holy sites) in biblical Israel and its surroundings.

3. The Holy Land and Second Jerusalems in Ethiopia

The clearest manifestations of affinity with the Holy Land in Ethiopian Orthodox sacred geography are two towns, both considered a second Jerusalem. The first is Aksum, in Late Antiquity—the capital of the Kingdom of Aksum, the predecessor of medieval, Christian Ethiopia.8 Though it ceased to serve as the capital of Christian Ethiopia with gradual decline of this kingdom, it retained its status as Christian Ethiopia’s most prestigious religious center, and, in Solomonic times, served as a place where Solomonic monarchs were crowned (Munro-Hay 2005, pp. 89–95). Its status as a second Jerusalem is linked to it being considered, in Ethiopian Orthodox tradition, the place where the Davidic monarchy was established in Ethiopia, and the resting place of the Ark of the Covenant (Heldman 1992), as exemplified by the Kǝbrä Nägäśt:

And Azaryas said: ‘bring forth the Jubilee, and we shall go to Zion [the Ark of the Covenant] and there we shall renew the reign of our lord David.’ And he took a horn full of royal anointment oil, and anointed him […] And so the reign of David, son of Solomon, king of Israel was renewed, in the city of government, on Mount Makǝda,9 in the House of Zion.10

The main church in Aksum, built on the ruins of the Aksumite cathedral of Late Antiquity,11 is dedicated to Maryam Ṣəyon (Mary of Zion).12 A chapel in its compound is considered the place where the Ark of the Covenant is kept to this day (Figure 1).13

A second Ethiopian Orthodox religious center considered a second Jerusalem is the ecclesiastical center of Roḥa, commonly known as Lalibäla (Figure 2 and Figure 3), the name of the late twelfth/early thirteenth century monarch who, according to Ethiopian tradition, established its churches. Lalibäla was one of the monarchs of the Zag^we dynasty, a dynasty whose reign ended with the rise of the Solomonic Dynasty in 1270.14 According to tradition, King Lalibäla was taken to the heavens, where he was instructed by God to construct the churches from one rock, and where their forms were revealed to him. This tradition also relates that the construction was carried out with the help of angels (Perruchon 1892, pp. 121–27).

The equation of the ecclesiastical complex with Jerusalem is apparent in the dedications and names of several churches and features within it, most notably the stream crossing the compound, bearing the name of Yordanos (Jordan), the hill of Däbrä Zäyt (Mt. of Olives), the churches of Golgota (Golgotha) and Däbrä Sina (Mt. Sinai), and a feature known as the Tomb of Adam (Heldman 1992, pp. 230–31; Finneran 2007, pp. 217–26; Phillipson 2012, pp. 237–38). An additional church in Lalibäla, Mädḫane ʿAläm (Savior of the World), seems to be modeled after the Aksumite cathedral and hence, may have been comparable in symbolism (Buxton and Matthews 1971–1972). The church of Gännätä Maryam (Paradise of Mary), east of Lalibäla, which was founded during the reign of the first Solomonic monarch, Yəkunno Amlak (1270–1285), was modeled after the two former churches, thus continuing the tradition of expressing affinity with the Aksumite past (Heldman 2005).

This equation, of Lalibäla with Jerusalem, is also alluded to in a passage from an abbreviated version of the Gädlä Lalibäla (Acts of Lalibäla), known as the Zena Lalibäla (Account of Lalibäla):

I blessed this place and from now onwards let it be a holy place as Mount Tabor, the place of my transfiguration, as Golgotha, the place of my crucifixion, and as Jerusalem the land of my mother […] If a man abides in it, or undertakes pilgrimage to it, it is as if he went to my Sepulcher in Jerusalem.15

It should be noted that the existence, in Ethiopia, of two towns considered second Jerusalems, did not diminish the importance of Jerusalem itself as a holy city or pilgrimage destination. In medieval and modern times, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church maintained a monastic presence in Jerusalem, and Ethiopian Orthodox pilgrims visited the city (Kelly 2020; Pedersen 2007). A few attestations, in written accounts, of Betä Ǝsraʾel visiting Jerusalem in Early Modern and modern times are also known (see, for example, Waldman 1989, pp. 54–56, 125–28).

Not only Jerusalem, but also many other localities in the sacred geography of the Holy Land and its surroundings were commemorated in Solomonic Ethiopia (Figure 4). Examples include the towns of Däbrä Tabor (Mt. Tabor),16 Däbrä Sina (Mt. Sinai)17, and Däbrä Zäyt (Mt. of Olives),18 a locality by the name of Nazret (Nazareth),19 the monastery of Däbrä Ṣǝyon (Mt. Zion),20 the monastery of Däbrä Gälila (Mt. Galilee),21 two monasteries by the name of Däbrä Sina22, and two islands on Lake Z^way—Däbrä Sina23 and Gälila (Galilee).24 During the second half of the twentieth century, the town of Adama, to the southeast of Däbrä Zäyt, also bore the name Nazret. These examples are physical manifestations of the view of Ethiopia as a second Zion, and the will to express this affinity not only as an abstract concept, but as a geographical reality, linked with specific localities.

It is against this backdrop that a remarkable comment made by the author of the chronicle of the Solomonic monarch Śärṣä Dǝngǝl (1563–1597) can be best understood: In a description of one of this monarch’s campaigns against the autonomous Betä Ǝsraʾel of the Səmen Mountains,25 it is written:

Here we shall write the account of the insolence of Rädaʾi [the Betä Ǝsraʾel leader] […] He called the mountains of his towns by the names of the mountains of Israel. One he called Mount Sinai and a second Mount Tabor and there are others, the names of which we have not mentioned. How evil is the pride of that Jew who likened his mountains to the mountains of the Land of Israel, on which God descended and revealed upon them the mysteries of his kingdom.26

What is striking about this account is not only that the Betä Ǝsraʾel leader chose to associate his domain with biblical Israel, but also that this was viewed as an affront by the Solomonic chronicler. This demonstrates the symbolic role of expressing affinity with the Holy Land—it is not merely a matter of commemorating holy, biblical sites. Rather, it is a statement of Israelite identity, an expression of being the true successor of the biblical Israelites. Steven Kaplan (1992, p. 87) suggests that this act was viewed both as asserting Rädaʾi’s sovereignty over the Səmen, and as a challenge to Śärṣä Dǝngǝl’s claim to be a successor of the biblical King Solomon.

Tantalizing as it may be, this description is the only one known to the present author mentioning localities in Ethiopia named after sites in the Holy Land by a member of the Betä Ǝsraʾel community, or, for that matter, Betä Ǝsraʾel sites bearing such names. Thus, it seems to be an isolated incident, which did not set a long-term precedent. The Betä Ǝsraʾel recognized several sites as holy sites (Figure 5), but none of these bore names affiliated with biblical Israel. Nevertheless, the affinity of specific Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites with Jerusalem, and specifically, with the Jerusalem Temple, is expressed in several traditions and concepts associated with them. It is to this topic that we turn to next.

4. Affinity with Jerusalem in Betä Ǝsraʾel Holy Sites

The absence of a Betä Ǝsraʾel wide-scale effort, comparable to the Ethiopian Orthodox one, to recreate the Holy Land in Ethiopia, may be due to a difference in theological concepts: In Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity, divine favor is believed to have been transferred from the biblical Israelites to the Ethiopian People, as exemplified by the Kǝbrä Nägäśt narrative. By extension, Ethiopia assumed, to some extent, the role of the biblical Promised Land. While some Betä Ǝsraʾel traditions regarding their distant past are significantly in dialogue with the Kǝbrä Nägäśt narrative (Abbink 1990, pp. 412–20), they differ in terms of their theological message: rather than claiming a transfer of God’s favor (a concept that entails removal of favor from the “old” Israel), the Betä Ǝsraʾel traditions emphasize continuity—that they are those who remained true to the Israelite religion of their ancestors. The absence of a transfer of God’s favor from Israel to Ethiopia entails an absence of a definition of Ethiopia as the new Holy Land—and hence, the absence of motivation to recreate the Holy Land in its sacred geography.

It should be noted, however, that the Betä Ǝsraʾel traditions in dialogue with the Kǝbrä Nägäśt narrative that have been documented are mainly brief outlines. In recent decades, the need of the community to defend its legitimacy vis-à-vis arguments put forth by Christian missionaries, Rabbinical (Jewish Orthodox) emissaries, and officials of the State of Israel have had an impact on the discourse related to its oral traditions.27 Hence, there is no certainty that the full extent of theological motifs originally present in the community’s traditions regarding its distant past is, at present, known.

Jerusalem, as a concept embodying both the Holy City and the Holy Land, is a central theme in Betä Ǝsraʾel religious life and culture and an object of longing for the community.28 It is therefore not surprising that, despite the lack of Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites officially commemorating localities in the Holy Land, affinity with the Holy City is either explicitly or subtly expressed in concepts and accounts related to many of these holy sites. Following a brief overview of the nature of Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites, a few examples will be provided.

4.1. Betä Ǝsraʾel Holy Sites

Shoshana Ben-Dor (1985a, p. 39), in her study of Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites, recalls two reasons for places to have been considered holy by the Betä Ǝsraʾel: That they were associated with one of the community’s holy men, or that they were the scene of acts of bravery committed by the community. In a series of interviews conducted with members of the community, including several members of the religious leadership, by the present author together with Wovite Worku Mengisto (Wovite Worku Mengisto and Kribus forthcoming), it was repeatedly stated that the community’s holy places are those where miraculous events took place.

The community’s holy places served as sites of pilgrimage. Purity was a central aspects in these pilgrimages: Gentiles were not allowed access to these sites. Members of the community could only enter in a state of purity—women during their menses, for instance, were prohibited from entering. It was believed that wild animals guarded the holy sites and would attack those who had transgressed the purity laws observed in them.

When at the sites, members of the community would spend several days praying and purifying themselves through immersion in water and consuming only uncooked chickpeas soaked in water. It was believed that when one reached a sufficient state of purity and spirituality, a message from the divine could be revealed in one’s dreams, and those in need of healing might be healed. Some Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites were the site of sacred springs, which were believed to have medicinal qualities, and pilgrimages often entailed immersion in their water or its application to ailing body parts.

The Betä Ǝsraʾel observed an annual pilgrimage during the Səgd holiday—in each given region, a locality (often a mountaintop) was chosen as the site where the holiday would be celebrated. The “Səgd Mountain” was not, by definition, a holy site, but in regions where holy sites were located, these holy sites were often the site of Səgd celebration.29

Since this article deals with Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites, I feel that it is my responsibility to stress here that these sites are of utmost importance to the community, and to relay a request from the community’s religious leadership that the community’s rules of conduct in these sites by anyone wishing to visit them be observed: Only Jews, and only after purification and prayer, may access the sanctified sections of these sites. From our experience, the sites can easily be viewed from the outside, without violating their sanctity. It should be noted that in the holy sites of other religions, rules of conduct are routinely observed by visitors and scholars alike out of respect. The same respect should be given to the Betä Ǝsraʾel and the rules of conduct required by their religious tradition.

4.2. Səmen Mənaṭa

Səmen Mənaṭa (Figure 6) was, in recent generations, the community’s most important religious site, and the last seat of the Betä Ǝsraʾel mäloksewočč,30 who served as the community’s supreme religious leadership. Novices studying to become priests would travel to Səmen Mənaṭa to receive their religious instruction and/or their consecration to the priesthood from the mäloksewočč. The village of Səmen Mənaṭa itself was not a holy site per se, but in its vicinity were two prestigious holy sites—Wəsta Ṣägay and Abba Täntän. Wəsta Ṣägay is a site of holy springs where, according to tradition, seventy-five members of the community who were under attack by the Solomonic army chose to commit suicide rather than be captured and forced to convert to Christianity (see below). Abba Täntän is traditionally the dwelling place of one of the community’s holy men.31

Since the village’s name is in some cases pronounced Səmen Mənaṭa, and in others—Səmen Mälaṭa (see, for example, Ben-Dor 1985a, pp. 33, 47, 50) (the latter being the pronunciation prevalent among the village’s present-day Christian inhabitants),32 I enquired with a Betä Ǝsraʾel priest, originally from this village, regarding how the name should be pronounced.33 The priest laughed, and related that Səmen Mənaṭa is the correct name. “Mälaṭa” means “bald” in Amharic, and Səmen Mənaṭa is not a bald (barren) place. On the contrary, it is fertile like Jerusalem.

4.3. Abba Gan (Gäntaba)

The holy site of Abba Gan, also known as Gäntaba, the name of the locality in which it is located, is traditionally the dwelling place of a one of the community’s holy men, and named after him (Kribus 2022, pp. 135–42). The apex of the holy site is located on a hilltop (Figure 7), which lay pilgrims would not approach. Rather, they would gather on the spur below and the surrounding slopes. The site is renowned as a place of healing, and one member of the community, who went on pilgrimage there in the hopes of being healed, related: “Abba Gan—they say it is a place only for old and righteous people. This place is like the Temple that was once in Jerusalem”.34

4.4. G^wang Ras

The holy springs of G^wang Ras were traditionally one of the stations in the journey of Abba Ṣəbra, the community’s most renowned religious leader and its first mälokse, and his disciple Ṣägga Amlak, as they were fleeing from the Solomonic monarch Zärʾa Yaʿəqob (1434–1468).35 The springs (Figure 8) are located near the source of the G^wang River, which flows into the Nile (in Sudan, this river is known as the Atbara). The Nile Valley had long served Ethiopians as a pilgrimage route to Jerusalem (Pedersen 2007), and the proximity of the Nile’s mouth to the Holy Land was well-known in Ethiopia.

According to a Betä Ǝsraʾel tradition related by Dubalä Wärqu and recorded by Rabbi Menachem Waldman (2015, p. 120), the waters of the G^wang were considered by the community to be flowing towards Jerusalem. A woman prepared a special dish and wanted to send it as an offering to the Holy City. She placed the vessel with the dish in it in the G^wang River at G^wang Ras. Eventually, her offering reached Jerusalem.

4.5. Č̣aqo Abba Däbtära

The holy site of Č̣aqo Abba Däbtära was traditionally founded by a Betä Ǝsraʾel holy man by the name of Abba Däbtära, or, according to different versions of the oral tradition, by the Betä Ǝsraʾel holy man Šum Abba Baḥtawi Bäsämay Märḥawi (Ben-Dor 1985a, pp. 45–47; Qes Ḥädanä Təkuyä 2011, pp. 5–158; Kribus 2022, pp. 178–84). The site served, in the past, as a central seat of the community’s mäloksewočč, contained a natural, raised stone platform which served as an altar, and a prayer house built in a natural depression.

Qes Ḥädanä Təkuyä (2011, pp. 53–55), one of the most prestigious Betä Ǝsraʾel priests, with familial links to the Betä Ǝsraʾel leadership in Č̣aqo Abba Däbtära, wrote an extensive description of the site and associated traditions. He relates that its holiness was like that of the Jerusalem Temple, and that when Šum Abba Baḥtawi would offer sacrifices there,36 fire would descend from the heavens and consume them.37 He adds that when he had grown old, Abba Baḥtawi sent his aide to burn incense at the holy site in his stead. Abba Baḥtawi warned his aide that when he would do so, the Ministering Angels would be revealed to him, and he must not be frightened. The Ministering Angels were indeed revealed to the aide, who was frightened, and subsequently fell ill and passed away.

A similar account was related to Ben-Dor (1985a, pp. 45–46) by Qes Wǝbšet Ayṭägäb. According to this account (which also refers to fire descending from the heaven and consuming the sacrifices), in the days of the priest Abba Däbtära, an angel walked among the priests as they were offering incense. Only they could see him. Once, a layman disguised himself as a priest and offered incense together with the other priests. He saw the angel and was afflicted. After a week, he passed away.

These accounts allude to several biblical narratives, most of them linked with Jerusalem and the Temple: The fire descending from the heavens and consuming the sacrifices recalls the fire which consumed the sacrifice offered by the prophet Elijah on Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18: 30–39). The descriptions of priests offering sacrifices and incense (Exodus 30: 1–10), while referring to typical elements of Betä Ǝsraʾel liturgy,38 place and emphasis on those elements which were also central in the liturgy which took place in the Jerusalem Temple. The appearance of angels within the holy site while incense was being offered is comparable to the divine presence in the Jerusalem Temple (1 Kings 8: 10), and the death of people who had transgressed the holy site or acted improperly within it is comparable to the death of Aaron’s two sons, when they entered the sanctuary of the Tabernacle in an improper manner (Leviticus 16: 1–16).

As we have seen, allusions to the Holy Land, and specifically to Jerusalem and the Temple, are, on the one hand, not part of the official raison d’être of Betä Ǝsraʾel holy sites, but on the other hand, they abound on an unofficial, conceptual level. Jerusalem thus serves as the symbol and prototype of sanctity, and as such, it was natural for the sanctity of the community’s holy sites to be inspired by it.

The inspiration of Jerusalem and the Temple was not limited, in Ethiopia, to sacred geography. It also had a lasting impact on prayer house architecture and terminology. It is to this theme that we turn to next.

5. The Temple as Inspiration in Prayer Houses

As in the case of holy sites and sacred geography, in our treatment of religious architecture, we will begin with Ethiopian Orthodox churches, and continue to address Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogues. A detailed examination of the architectural and religious symbolism of the latter is provided elsewhere (Kribus forthcoming a). Here, we will briefly examine those aspects which reflect affinity with Jerusalem and the Temple. We will focus, in our discussion, on the concentric, circular prayer house plan which was utilized as a basis in both synagogue and church architecture in the northwestern Ethiopian Highlands.

The concentric, circular prayer house plan comprises a square central sanctuary, oriented according to the four cardinal points, enclosed within a circular structure, which in turn features an entrance in each of the cardinal points.39 In the ambulatory surrounding the sanctuary are sections for men (in the north), women (in the south), and clergymen. The sanctuary itself is accessed only by priests. The structure is covered with a conical roof.

Ethiopian Orthodox church architecture is considerably more varied than Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogue architecture, and has been subject of considerable documentation and research. During the Aksumite period, Ethiopian churches were based on the basilica plan prevalent in the Mediterranean, while incorporating Aksumite constructional techniques and architectural ornamentation. In the Middle Ages, an array of church plans were developed in the Ethiopian Highlands, but they were all based, to some extent, on concepts derived from the basilica plan. Concentric, circular Ethiopian Orthodox churches (Figure 9) are first attested in the late fifteenth or sixteenth century.40 They are considered a local innovation and a significant break with pre-existing church architecture.41

Conceptually, Ethiopian Orthodox churches (including concentric, circular churches) are divided into three sections: the sanctuary (mäqdäs, a term referring to a temple, sanctuary, or holy place), the qəddəst (literally “the Holy”), the section outside the entrance to the sanctuary, where various aspects of the liturgy are performed by the priests and the laity receive communion, and the qəne maḫlet (qəne is a type of poetry recited as part of the liturgy, and maḫlet—a type of hymn), beyond the qəddəst, where church music is performed and to which the laity has regular access (Ezra Gebremedhin 2007; Habtemichael Kidane 2011). The term mäqdäs could also be used to refer to a church.42

This terminology bears a striking resemblance to the terminology associated with the Jerusalem Temple. The Temple, betä mäqdäs in Geʿez, beit ha-miqdaš in Hebrew (compare with mäqdäs), contained a “Holy”, in Hebrew—qodeš (compare with qəddəst), and a “Holy of Holies”, in Hebrew—qodeš ha-qodašim). This similarity, as well as a threefold division in both the Temple and concentric, circular churches, have led scholars to suggest that this church type was designed to emulate the Jerusalem Temple (Ullendorff 1968, pp. 87–89). A further element seen as affiliated with the Temple is the tabot (literally “ark”, compare with the Hebrew teiḇah), the Ethiopian Orthodox altar slab, which is kept in the mäqdäs, and upon which the Eucharist is performed. The tabot is considered the most sanctified object in a church. It is sanctified by a bishop, cannot be viewed by laymen and symbolizes both the Tablets of Law and the Ark of the Covenant.

In recent years, it has been argued that both the tabot and the concentric, circular church plan were not designed in emulation of the Temple, but rather developed based on ecclesiastical precedents in Egypt and Nubia, respectively.43 Tracing the architectural origin of the Ethiopian concentric, circular prayer house is beyond the scope of the present article. We are instead concerned with the symbolism attributed to it. I would argue that the aforementioned terminology expresses a conceptual affinity with the Jerusalem Temple, and this is not surprising, given the concept of Ethiopian Orthodox Christians as Israelites, and the high regard in which the Old Testament is held in Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity.

It should be noted that to an extent, affinity with the Jerusalem Temple is a trait that synagogues and churches throughout the world have in common: In Christian liturgy, the Eucharist, as a (symbolic) sacrifice conducted by the priesthood on an altar, is likened to the sacrifices offered by the priesthood in the Jerusalem Temple (Cooke 1960). In Rabbinical Judaism, there is a concept of the synagogue as “Minor Sanctuary”, symbolically acquiring some of the Temple’s features and roles (Safrai 1989). I would argue, however, that in Ethiopia, affinity was expressed to a greater extent and more literally than in other regions, as exemplified by Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogues.

Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogues are known as mäsgid or mək^wrab.44 Their characteristics and chronology are known to a much lesser extent than Ethiopian Orthodox churches, due to lack of research: While a few general descriptions of Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogues appear in the literature (Flad 1869, pp. 42–44; Leslau 1951, pp. xxi–xxiii; Shelemay 1989, pp. 71–78), Betä Ǝsraʾel religious architecture and synagogues were never been studied in detail. Following the twentieth-century immigration of the Betä Ǝsraʾel to Israel, all Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogues were abandoned. A few, most notably the synagogues at Wäläqa and Ambobär, have been preserved as tourist attractions, but in most cases known to the present author, only foundations remain. Our survey of the dwelling places of the Betä Ǝsraʾel mäloksewočč was the first study to document and examine the remains of such prayer houses in detail.

The concentric, circular synagogue plan, though not the only plan utilized by the Betä Ǝsraʾel, seems to have been the most widespread prior to the late nineteenth century.45 Synagogues clearly identifiable as the concentric, circular type were first mentioned in the writings of Protestant missionaries active among the Betä Ǝsraʾel in the 1860s (Flad 1869, pp. 42–44; Stern 1862, p. 188). One of the missionaries, Johann Martin Flad, included the plan of such a synagogue in a book he wrote on the Betä Ǝsraʾel (Figure 10). This plan is the earliest plan of a Betä Ǝsraʾel synagogue produced, and the only one to depict the concentric, circular type.

Both Flad’s account and plan and the account written by Leslau (1951) following his research among the Betä Ǝsraʾel in 1947 refer to the terminology used to refer to the different components of this prayer house type: The term mäqdäs (sanctuary, temple, holy place) was used to refer to the interior of the structure (rather than to the sanctuary, as in Ethiopian Orthodox churches), and the term qəddusä qəddusan or qəddəstä qəddusan (literally “Holy of Holies”)—to the sanctuary within. While concentric, circular churches, and synagogues are based on the same general plan, two main architectural features set the synagogues apart: a sacrificial altar, located in the structure’s courtyard, in Flad’s plan to the east—though Leslau (1951, p. xxii), relates that it is located north of the structure, and that the main entrance into the structure and sanctuary are located in the east rather than the west.

In Ethiopian Orthodox churches, the entrance from the west towards the east is based on the ecclesiastical forerunners of this church type—in basilica churches, as well as other types of non-centralized churches prevalent in Ethiopia and elsewhere, the structure is entered in the western end, and the sanctuary located in the eastern end. In the synagogue, the location of the altar east of the structure (if indeed this was its prevalent location) and of the main entrance from east westwards seems to recall the layout of the Jerusalem Temple, which was also entered from the east westwards, with the altar located east of the Temple structure.

Thus, it also seems that in the realm of religious architecture and related terminology, both communities conveyed their Israelite identity by expressing affinity with the Jerusalem Temple. In the Ethiopian Orthodox case, commitment to ecclesiastical precedents dictated features of the prayer house layout, and hence limited the degree of emulation of the Temple. The Betä Ǝsraʾel, on the other hand, basing themselves conceptually on Old Testament precedents, could express affinity with the Temple to a greater degree.

6. Commemoration of the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic Wars in Sacred Geography

Interreligious discourse between the Betä Ǝsraʾel and Ethiopian Orthodox society in sacred geography is not limited to affinity with biblical Israel and the Holy Land. A second, fascinating aspect of this discourse has to do with the commemoration of events relating to the military conflict between the autonomous Betä Ǝsraʾel of the Sǝmen Mountains and their vicinity and the Christian, Solomonic Kingdom. These conflicts, here termed the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic Wars, are attested in several written sources, including Solomonic royal chronicles, Ethiopian Orthodox hagiographies, accounts written by Portuguese and Jesuits active in Ethiopia and letters written by Jews in Egypt and Jerusalem who came into contact with members of the Betä Ǝsraʾel community.46

The commemoration of these wars in later, sacred geography has never before been addressed in research. A detailed examination of this phenomenon is currently being carried out (Kribus forthcoming b). Here, we will provide two examples:

6.1. The Holy Springs of Wəsta Ṣägay

The holy springs of Wəsta Ṣägay are located within the gorge of the Gərzəman River, the river which traverses the valley of Səmen Mənaṭa (Figure 11). The springs are situated upstream of the village. Several versions of the account, in Betä Ǝsraʾel oral tradition, of the act of heroism which members of the community conducted there, have been documented, and some of the details vary. Here, a brief overview of the main features is provided:47

According to most narrations, the events in question took place at the time of the war between the Betä Ǝsraʾel and the Solomonic monarch Yǝsḥaq (1414–1429/30).48 Aṣe (King) Yǝsḥaq ordered a forced conversion of the Betä Ǝsraʾel to Christianity; and declared that they would have to demonstrate their conversion by eating the meat of cats and dogs (something prohibited by the Betä Ǝsraʾel religious tradition); otherwise they would be killed. Many of the Betä Ǝsraʾel fled to the wilderness so as not to be forced to convert. Two groups of seventy-five people gathered on the mountaintops above the Gərzəman River, one on either side. It was decided that if one group were to see the Solomonic army approaching; it would warn the other on the opposite peak.

The Solomonic army arrived and charged towards one of the groups. The other group cried out a warning, but it was too late. The Betä Ǝsraʾel on the peak that the army was charging towards could not escape. They decided to die rather than transgress their religion, and gathered in a large crate which hung by a rope above the cliff face, cut the cord, and fell to their deaths. One woman, who was pregnant, landed on a rock shelf in the cliff face and survived. While she was there, she gave birth to a son. According to different versions, she named him Ṭägay or Ṣägay (or his father’s name was Ṣägay), hence the name of the holy site.49

Afterwards, the members of the Betä Ǝsraʾel community on the opposite peak climbed down into the valley to search for those who had fallen. They discovered the bodies of the deceased, counted, and marked them, and found and rescued the woman and her son. The bodies of the deceased later disappeared, and springs flowed in their stead. These springs were believed to have medicinal qualities, and Betä Ǝsraʾel pilgrims to the site would immerse themselves in the water or apply it to ailing body parts.

The account of the act of heroism at Wəsta Ṣägay serves, among the Betä Ǝsraʾel, as a symbol for the community’s bravery and devotion to its religion. In some accounts, a connection is made between the sanctification of Wəsta Ṣägay due to this act, and the location, later, of the religious center there, at Səmen Mənaṭa. One example appears in the journal of the Israeli doctor Dan Har’el, who visited Səmen Mənaṭa in 1963, and met with the last mälokse living there—Abba Robel (Robel is the Amharic version of the name Reuben). Har’el (1963) writes: “Reuben [Abba Robel] tells us about Gideon [Gedewon, the regnal name of Betä Ǝsraʾel monarchs]. He says that there is a reason why they [the Betä Ǝsraʾel] live in this place [Səmen Mənaṭa]. I ask why. He answers that across from it is a place where Gideon’s warriors threw themselves off the rocks [cliff] to their deaths. The rocks in this place are still red with their blood”.

Wəsta Ṣägay is but one of several sites which the Betä Ǝsraʾel oral tradition associates with acts of bravery in the context of the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic wars. A second site, also in the vicinity of Səmen Mənaṭa, is the Spring of Abisäw; in this place, according to Betä Ǝsraʾel tradition, a Betä Ǝsraʾel leader by the name of Abisäw was captured by the Solomonic army, and told that if he did not convert to Christianity, he would be killed. When he refused, he was executed, and where his blood was spilled, a spring began to flow (Wovite Worku Mengisto and Kribus forthcoming).

6.2. The Church of Yəsḥaq Däbr

An example of Solomonic commemoration of the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic wars is the construction of churches in areas previously governed by the Betä Ǝsraʾel, following successful Solomonic campaigns against them. The most renowned example of this is the church of Yəsḥaq Däbr in the region of Wägära. Two brief accounts of Aṣe Yəsḥaq’s campaign against the Betä Ǝsraʾel appear in compilations dedicated to the history of Ethiopian kings, and subsequently known under the collective name Tarikä Nägäśt (History of Kings).50 According to one account, following the campaign, “the king [Aṣe Yəsḥaq] built many churches in the land of Dänbəya and Wägära [which had previously been governed by a Betä Ǝsraʾel leader]”.51 The second account relates that “[following the campaign] many churches were built in the land of Dämbəya and Wägära. In Kossoge, there is the one called Yəsḥaq Däbr”.52 James Bruce, the famous Scottish traveler who traveled to Ethiopia in the years 1769–1771 and wrote extensively about the country’s history, based on texts and traditions he encountered, mentions Aṣe Yəsḥaq’s campaign. Bruce (1790, vol. 2, pp. 65–66) adds: “The king, coming upon the army of the Falasha [Betä Ǝsraʾel] in Woggora [Wägära], entirely defeated them at Kossogué, and, in memory thereof, built a church on the place, and called it Debra Isaac, which remains there to this day”.

It is fascinating to note that an account of Aṣe Yəsḥaq’s campaign written by a member of the Betä Ǝsraʾel community, the high priest of the Betä Ǝsraʾel in the region of Təgray, Abba Yəsḥaq Iyasu, also refers to Yəsḥaq Däbr in association with this war: “The emperor Yəsḥaq took control of the places where King Gideon [the Betä Ǝsraʾel king] had ruled, and from there began to spread Christianity, up to the place which is called Yəsḥaq Däbr” (Waldman 2018, p. 289). This probably indicates that the role of this church in commemorating Solomonic victory was known to the Betä Ǝsraʾel, and constitutes a reference to this role.

We can thus speak of a dialogue of sorts, made manifest in the sacred geography of Səmen and Wägära, with the Betä Ǝsraʾel expressing their bravery and religious devotion, and Christian, Solomonic society expressing its victory and dominant status in the region.

7. Conclusions

In Ethiopia, affinity with Jerusalem and the Holy Land in sacred geography, toponyms, and religious architecture was a means of expressing Israelite identity and affinity with the biblical past. Past research has examined such expressions solely within the confines of Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity. As demonstrated here, expressing affinity with Jerusalem and the Holy Land was no less central to the Betä Ǝsraʾel. While both communities utilized elements of a shared vocabulary, the theological and conceptual differences between them impacted the way each community expressed its affinity.

Numerous Ethiopian Orthodox localities and religious sites were named after localities in the Holy Land and its vicinity, a phenomenon linked with the concept of Ethiopia as a new Chosen Land. The comment in Śärṣä Dǝngǝl’s chronicle, expressing anger at the Betä Ǝsraʾel leader Rädaʾi for having given such names to localities in his realm, demonstrates that such names were considered in Solomonic Ethiopia, at least in some cases, a theological and political statement. The Betä Ǝsraʾel, whose theology stressed continuity rather than transference of divine favor, did not seek to re-create a holy land in Ethiopia, as reflected by the lack of present-day localities associated with the community named after biblical sites. However, Jerusalem, as an embodiment of the sacred, was in the consciousness of members of the community when they approached the sacred—in their holy sites, and at least some of these sites were viewed as affiliated with the Holy City.

In the realm of religious architecture, both communities utilized a shared architectural vocabulary, and expressed, in their prayer houses, an affinity with the Jerusalem Temple. In Ethiopian Orthodox churches, this affinity was symbolic and expressed within the confines permitted by ecclesiastical precedents and heritage. Among the Betä Ǝsraʾel, this affinity was expressed more extensively and literally.

Finally, the dialogue between the two communities in the realm of sacred geography and religious sites is demonstrated in the case of commemoration of the Betä Ǝsraʾel–Solomonic wars. The Betä Ǝsraʾel commemorated acts of bravery and religious devotion in associated with these wars in holy sites, while Solomonic authorities, following successful campaigns, expressed their victory and dominance by founding churches in localities previously governed by the Betä Ǝsraʾel. These features and the meanings attributed to them would have been known to the inhabitants of these regions, regardless of their religious affinity, thus making the ideological discourse of each respective community manifest in the landscape.

As this study demonstrates, an understanding of the symbolic aspects, of the meaning attributed to different elements of Ethiopian cultural expression (and indeed, of cultural expression in general) cannot be fully grasped when one studies a given group in isolation, or when one only focuses on the dominant religious group. By examining the interplay of cultural elements between different groups, and how each group utilized them to express its ideology and identity, their meaning in each given group, and their role in interreligious dialogue, can be grasped more fully. The northern Ethiopian Highlands are extremely rich in cultures and religious traditions, past and present, many of which have not been sufficiently documented or researched. It is hoped that future research will address this lacuna and enable a deeper understanding of Ethiopian cultural and religious expression.