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Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence

G.H.R. Horsley and Jean M. Luxford

Anatolian Studies / Volume 66 / January 2016, pp 141 - 183

DOI: 10.1017/S0066154616000090, Published online: 29 June 2016

Link to this article: http://journals.cambridge.org/abstract_S0066154616000090

How to cite this article:

G.H.R. Horsley and Jean M. Luxford (2016). Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence.
Anatolian Studies, 66, pp 141-183 doi:10.1017/S0066154616000090

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Anatolian Studies 66 (2016): 141–183 doi:10.1017/S0066154616000090
© British Institute at Ankara 2016

Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor:

revisiting the epigraphic evidence
G.H.R. Horsley and Jean M. Luxford
University of New England, Australia
ghorsley@une.edu.au

Abstract
Franz Cumont’s influential article on pagan angels in Revue de l’histoire des religions, published just over a century
ago in 1915, remains the point de départ for work on that subject. The present essay offers a brief evaluation of some
of its features, and then concentrates on Greek epigraphic evidence from Asia Minor in the Roman imperial period.
Most of these texts were not published when Cumont wrote, or else he treated them briefly since his focus lay largely
on ancient philosophical discussions about angeloi by both insiders and outsiders to the Christian movement; and
geographically he ranged more widely than we have chosen to do. The main aim of the present essay, however, is to test
the widely-accepted hypothesis of A.R.R. Sheppard (1980/1981) that Jewish influence on pagan notions of angeloi is
visible in these inscriptions even though that influence was applied by non-Jews in a confused manner.

Özet
Yüzyıl kadar önce 1915 tarihinde Revue de l’histoire des religions dergisinde yayınlanan Franz Cumont’un pagan
melekler ile ilgili yazdığı etkileyici makale halen bu konunun esas kaynağı olarak kabul edilir. Makalemizde bu
çalışmanın bazı özelliklerinin kısa bir değerlendirilmesi sunulmakta ve daha sonra Roma İmparatorluk döneminde
Anadolu’dan ele geçen Yunanca epigrafik kanıtlar üzerinde yoğunlaşılmaktadır. Cumont makalesini yazdığında, bu
metinlerin çoğu yayınlanmamıştı ve kendisi daha çok Hıristiyanlık hareketine içeriden ve dışarıdan gelen melekler
hakkındaki antik felsefi tartışmalar üzerine yoğunlaştığından bu metinlere kısaca değinmişti. Ayrıca Cumont bizim
seçtiğimizden çok daha geniş bir coğrafi alanı ele almıştı. Ancak bu makalemizin temel amacı, A.R.R. Sheppard
tarafından öne sürülen ve geniş ölçüde kabul görmüş olan hipotezi (1980/1981) test etmektir. Sheppard’ın tezine göre,
her ne kadar şaşırtıcı bir şekilde Yahudi olmayanlar tarafından uygulansa da, bu yazıtlardaki meleklerin pagan özellik-
lerinde Yahudi etkileri görülmektedir.

Introduction
In 1915 Franz Cumont (1868–1947; fig. 1) – already
recognised for his abilities by his appointment in his mid
20s to a Chair at Ghent and appreciated both by specialists
for his work on Mithras (1896–1902) and by a broader
readership for his lectures given in Paris in 1905 and in
Oxford the following year which were combined and
published as Les religions orientales dans le paganisme
romain (Cumont 1906) – produced a wide-ranging article
entitled ‘Les anges du paganisme’ (Cumont 1915). Its
starting point is a Latin dedication from Dacia; the article
then broadens out in several directions (geographical,
cultural, philosophical, magical, religious) in its consider-
ation of these superhuman beings. Insights both general
and specific make this essay still rewarding for epigoni a
hundred years later, even granting that new discoveries and
approaches require qualification of his views in some
particulars.
Our aim in this essay is twofold. First, there is value in
being reminded of the enduring quality of Cumont’s work
overall – even granting that his views on Mithraism have
been called into question increasingly since the early 1970s
– by giving attention to one of his longstanding interests in
the field of history of religions. Thus, a generation after the
1915 article, he sketched out (Cumont 1939), with an
impressive combination of brevity and detail, the Christian
intertwining of Jewish and pagan notions about angeloi as
‘pneumatic’ psychopompoi, carrying/escorting the faithful

141
 Anatolian Studies 2016
Fig. 1. Franz Cumont ca 1915 (photo provided by and
reproduced with the permission of the Academia Belgica,
Rome).
dead at the moment of their last breath to the place of bliss,
however articulated (heaven, ‘the bosom of Abraham’, the
celestial Jerusalem, etc.). Our specific goal is to analyse the
epigraphic evidence for angelic figures in Roman Asia
Minor, a region scarcely touched in his 1915 article; and to
this end we have gathered here all the epigraphical instances
known to us. Material from the Cycladic island of Thera is
included since it was part of provincia Asia under the Empire
(Hiller von Gaertringen 1904: 121). A small majority of the
23 texts reprinted here (two items from Attike are included
for comparative purposes) were not published before
Cumont’s essay appeared. G.W. Bowersock conveniently
refers (2013: 96) to further epigraphic examples from
Lebanon, Jordan and Ostia, in some of which the angelos is
named. The second particular focus of the present contribu-
tion is an evaluation of the widely-accepted view that Jewish
influence was a factor in the appearance of angeloi in
various pagan religious contexts.
Elite attitudes to the gods permeate Greek and Latin
literary texts, and convey an imbalanced impression about
religious attitudes and adherences, especially among the
non-elite and those who did not live primarily in urban
contexts. Non-literary evidence can usefully show up a
rather different cross-section in class and educational terms.
What we see in rural contexts is not to be dismissed as
142
‘hayseed stuff’ just because urbanised and well-educated
elites were disparaging of those who lacked their access to
a life of comparative privilege. In the stimulating collection
of essays constituting Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity,
it is notable that only one focuses on non-elite perspectives;
and although the editors acknowledge that the latter
requires attention, their two comments in the introduction
are so brief as only to underline the book’s imbalance in
this respect (Athanassiadi, Frede 1999: 11, 20). A visible
philosophical interest in monotheism in the Roman Empire
does not establish that this outlook was widely embraced
by those who participated in traditional religious activity.
The vast majority of those living under Roman authority
and administration would not even have been aware of the
cerebral debates on this matter conducted inter se by a
small coterie of highly educated people.
The Judaeo-Christian heritage in the West has meant in
the past that as a default hypothesis angeloi in antiquity have
tended to be connected with influence from that quarter
where an obviously pagan context is not clear. Such a
connection has sometimes been taken incautiously as
axiomatic. We shall see that there is in fact a confusing
variety of notions about angeloi in the Eastern Roman
Empire where these epigraphic attestations occur. Their very
limited geographical spread – and, indeed, their sheer
numerical paucity – contributes to the risk of over-inter-
preting the material. Some previous discussions have sought
to put a name to an otherwise anonymous angelos on some
inscriptions, venturing a specificity which may never have
been originally intended. The very use of the word ‘pagan’
is related to this. We employ it simply as a general term for
traditional religious expression of various kinds that are
neither Jewish nor Christian. Its use in our essay does not
imply that all the manifestations we discuss relate to one
‘cult’. We moderns risk problematising a phenomenon
which those in antiquity simply took in their stride rather
than found confronting. The present discussion is not a theo-
logical discussion so much as a Religionsgeschichte one.
Yet it is not just that. In their various genres (dedica-
tions, epitaphs, confession texts, magica, an oracle), the
majority of these usually short inscriptions are reflective
of non-urbanised, indigenous settlements of people
without much access to education, trying to establish a
means to ensure social coherence within their community.
Overall, most of these texts imply an expectation that a
divine exercise of justice will ensure societal stability at
the micro level of a village. Codified law may well have
existed in the increasing number of cities which were once
autonomous, but later under the Principate had become
administrative centres established with self-governing
rights, with which came concomitant responsibilities to
ensure law and order in their territory. Hopes to achieve
justice were much more fragile and uncertain – indeed, not
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
even on the horizon – for those living in a rural context in
Anatolia away from the coastal and other metropoleis.
Only when a situation became extreme, such as in the third
century with political instability and a breakdown in
military discipline, may there have been an appeal for
justice to the emperor via some lower-level authority such
as the provincial proconsul (Herrmann 1990; Hauken
1998). Yet even these petitioners were often people whose
families had worked on imperial estates for several gener-
ations, and so were not at the very bottom of the social
pyramid. The petitions and the official responses to them
were inscribed not least to deter the next visitors from
peremptory exercise of power (Herrmann 1990: 64–65).
The very fact that those texts were inscribed and placed on
public view points to this. Papyrus petitions survive from
Egypt in considerable numbers; those appeals were usually
directed to the prefect of the province and subordinate,
local nome officials. Many of them were produced for
individual illiterates by local village scribes, who were
conversant with the requisite formulas needed to achieve
the desired result from the official ear. The epigraphic
examples differ from papyrus petitions, however, in being
put forward by a community, though no doubt still devised
by someone with knowledge of how to word them appro-
priately (Herrmann 1990: 51). In the case of hinterland
Anatolia, however, any chance at all of gaining a hearing
was far more remote than for those living in towns or on
imperial estates. For in general, soldiers and administrators
had contact only with those cities and smaller towns which
lay on major routes within the provinces (Mitchell 1999a:
46). Accordingly, if not even a remote chance of securing
justice was available at a human level, we should not be
surprised that villages corporately made their own arrange-
ments to secure social harmony (or at least coexistence);
and where else was there to turn except to the gods who
were guarantors of justice? This was not really a matter of
choice (pace Ricl 1995: 69). The texts were inscribed and
erected in different appropriate contexts: most notably in
cemeteries to ward off tomb violation and at shrines to
publicise the god’s active oversight of people’s behaviour
(cf. Steinleitner 1913: 100–08). Of course, looking to the
divine was not necessarily a reaction to the failure to
receive justice from human authorities; the former was
broadly a much more ancient phenomenon. The fact that
divine justice was still important in some contexts where
civil justice was also available (theoretically, at least) – for
example, in larger population centres – may be felt to
reflect a perceived failure of the latter to provide for people
in certain social contexts. Yet just as much we may reason-
ably infer a preference for ‘traditional ways’.
As a further preliminary to our analysis of the texts
which follow, we should clarify the meaning of our focal
term. Greek ἄγγελος has two basic semantic branches.
143
Unpublished definitions devised by John A.L. Lee and
G.H.R. Horsley several years ago may be provided for
convenience.
(1) Person sent by a superior to convey a message or
act as an agent. This sense (not the focus of the present
discussion, although it is not excluded for texts 3a and 3b
below) encompasses such obvious instances as messengers
in Greek tragedy and emissaries sent between cities and
individuals from the Classical Greek period through to
later Roman imperial times.
(2) Supernatural being who acts as an attendant,
messenger or agent of a superior supernatural being. This
sense is applicable to Hermes and Iris in the Greek
pantheon, to divine agents of the Judaeo-Christian God in
the Septuagint and the New Testament as well as in other
Jewish and Christian literature, and to other beings
sometimes identified with a name, sometimes simply
called angelos. It is this sense which is primarily relevant
to our present essay. There is a double role: ‘une fonction
théophanique et une fonction herméneutique’ (Corbin
1981: 186).
It is not our intention to provide a broader background
here by summarising what is known about angeloi in
Greek and Roman literature, or in Jewish apocalyptic and
early Christian literature, except incidentally. Nor, again,
will we give much attention to later Christian antiquity, for
which there has been a surge of new interest concerning
angeloi over the last few decades. Scarcely known among
them, apparently, but certainly meriting careful attention
is the unpublished 2002 thesis by N. Ricklefs, which draws
on Syriac, Aramaic and Coptic evidence in addition to the
more frequently invoked evidence in Greek, Latin and
Hebrew in its aim to ‘trace the particularly Christian
approach to angels and angelology’ (Ricklefs 2002: 288).
It gives little attention to the epigraphic evidence adduced
in the present contribution (Ricklefs 2002: 31, 37, mainly
about Sheppard 1980/1981). C. Arnold’s book (1995: espe-
cially 61–89) draws welcome renewed attention for those
in the New Testament field to most of the inscriptions dealt
with in the present contribution. Occasional inaccuracy in
certain comments, however, means that, for those who
wish to pursue this material in greater detail, his contribu-
tion will be a useful starting point only. We have mostly
not commented on the magical items he includes (62–70),
though it escapes us why he includes the Thera epitaphs
(his no. 3; our 9a–b, below) among that group. Three
earlier contributions should not be passed over without
mention. In ten succinct and useful pages J. Barbel (1941:
9–18) refers to most of the epigraphical texts then known
relating to angeloi, as well as to some literary sources, and
evaluates briefly previous discussions by Cumont, M.
Dibelius, F. Dölger and others. Two decades later J.
Michl’s thorough survey (1962) of angels in paganism,
 Anatolian Studies 2016

Judaism, Gnosticism and Christianity updates markedly The treasurers, father and son, Antigonos son of Apol-
the still-valuable encyclopaedia entry by H. Leclercq more lonios, and Antigonos son of Antigonos, attended upon
than a century ago (1907). However, the quality of the the god through the whole year reverently, and upon
most recent book to focus on angeloi in the Roman Empire people in a pleasing manner; they regularly made sales
(Cline 2011a) is regrettably so disappointing in numerous of everything below cost price. And they also built the
respects that we have rarely referred to it. R. Cline deals enclosure of Angelos at their own expense, and
as follows with the texts which we present below: 3a–b dedicated an altar to Apollo. And as water was scarce
(2011a: 60–65), 4a–f (2011a: 57–60), 5 (2011a: 55–56), in the place, they baled (water into) new cisterns.
7a–b (2011a: 65–69), 8 (2011a: 19–45), 9a–b (2011a: 78–
99), 9e (2011a: 102–03), 10 (2011a: 99–102). This text provides our sole, certain epigraphic instance of
a female angelos (but see discussion at 6, below). A.
The inscriptions with brief comment Rehm’s careful commentary (completed at the time of his
1. Rehm 1958: no. 406; Didyma in Ionia; first century(?) death at the end of the 19th century, but not published until
(fig. 2). 1958) focuses mainly on the identity of this figure, which
he concluded on the basis of diverse scholiastic comment
ταμίαι πατὴρ καὶ υἱὸς Ἀντίγο- and a late gloss was a merging of Artemis and Hekate.
νος Ἀπολλωνίου καὶ Ἀντίγο- F. Sokolowski endorsed this interpretation (1960: 227–28),
νος Ἀντιγόνου παρήδρευ- and proposed a connection with several of the dedications
4 σαν τῷ θεῷ δι’ ὅλου τοῦ ἐνι- from Stratonikeia in Caria (4a–f, below). As well, the
αυτοῦ εὐσεβῶς, τοῖς δὲ ἀν- devotiones from Attike (9c–d, below) may imply that the
θρώποις εὐαρέστως, ποιή- angeloi are distinct entities from the named deities
σαντες παραπράσεις πάντων (including Hekate) listed in the following lines, or else all
8 διηνεκῶς· οἰκοδόμησαν δὲ of them may be being so categorised.
καὶ τὸν περίβολον τῆς Ἀγγέ- However, the diversity of information we have about
λου ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων καὶ ἀνέθη- angeloi, their quite infrequent attestation in epigraphic
καν τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι βωμόν· λιπόν- texts and their notable rarity in urban contexts are factors
12 τος δὲ ὕδατος τῷ τόπῳ ἤντλη- to urge caution in the interpretation of what is only a
σαν τὰ καινὰ vvvvvv φρέατα. passing allusion in this inscription, whose focus is on the

Fig. 2. No. 1: statement of civic contribution by a father and son during their tenure of office at Didyma as treasurers,
first century AD(?) (I.Didyma 406). The right one-third of the stone carries a separate inscription (reproduction template:
Rehm 1958: fig. 87; photo in the archive of the Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbe-
sitz, Archivsignatur: Didy 78; provided by the courtesy of Martin Maischberger, Deputy Director Antikensammlung,
and Sylvia Brehme, Curator in charge of its epigraphic monuments).

144
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
self-promoting service which a family has provided for its
city in the early imperial period. Rehm and Sokolowski
may be right, but no evidence from Asia Minor establishes
beyond doubt the identifications and connections they
make. J. Fontenrose is suitably cautious (1988: 159),
Arnold less so (1995: 88).
The identity of the theos mentioned in line 4 has appar-
ently received no discussion to date. May it be Apollo,
named at line 11? This is at least possible, though beyond
certainty. Inscriptional texts from some rural regions of
Asia Minor show that Apollo may sometimes be a justice
god (Horsley 1997: 55–56; 2007: 75–80, no. 108,
commentary; more generally, see Chaniotis 2004: 1–43);
and he is attested in association with the justice gods
Hosios and Dikaios (7a–b, below). Angelos is also linked
with them, as well as appearing separately in contexts
concerned with justice (3a–3b, and possibly the very frag-
mentary 2, below).
We conclude that this inscription attests a clear instance
of a pagan, divine female angelos, whether identifiable
with another deity or not.
2. Robert, Robert 1958: no. 191 frag. A; Kidrama in Caria;
first or second century.
- - - τὰϲ
2 ἐντολὰϲ τὴν
πρῖϲιν πάθο ̣-
4 [ι]τε ὑπὸ τῶν πυ-
[ρὸϲ] ἀνγ̣έλω[ν …
… [whoever disobeys] the injunctions [not to interfere
with this tomb], may you suffer grinding(?) at the
hands of the angeloi of fire ...
This fragmentary curse from Caria, probably part of a
funerary monument, includes some striking wording, but
not much can be inferred from it. We have provided the
left portion only from a broken column; the fragment to
the right is even less forthcoming as to its meaning, and
has not been reprinted here. L. Robert and J. Robert (1958)
do not know what to make of πρῖϲιϲ in fragment A above,
and LSJ’s examples are few: perhaps ‘grinding’ (of the
teeth) in pain or anger? As an alternative, one of the
referees for our article suggests τὴν ‹ἔμ›|πρῖϲιν (for
ἐμπρῆϲιν), ‘burning’; and independently G.R. Stanton
(personal communication July 2015) proposes the simple
form of this noun. Some distinctively Jewish inscriptions
with similarly serious warnings, though not identical
wording, are known from Akmoneia in Phrygia, and date
variously within the period of the second or third century
(Ameling 2004: 172–78; cf. Strubbe 1991: 38–39; Trebilco
1991: 69–70, 74–77). Is the fragment quoted above from
145
a Jewish, pagan or Christian inscription? On the basis of
the distinctive wording of the curse, the Roberts guardedly
consider it may be Christian (references at their page 366
n.3 to Hermas, Apocalypse of Peter and a Christian
funerary curse from Sparta), a proposal passed over in
silence by Sheppard (1980/1981: 86–87, no. 7 – printing
only part of the fragment – and n.47), who considers it is
pagan, with religious language borrowed from the Jews,
like the Stratonikeian inscriptions (4a–f, below). He
suggests two references from Jewish literature as possible
sources from which pagans may have borrowed: Jubilees
2.2 and 2 Enoch 29.1–3. Both are accounts of God’s
creation of ‘angels of fire’, but neither reference describes
any punitive action by these angels. In 1 Enoch 54.1–6
(second century BC to first century AD: Charlesworth
1983–1985: 1.5), Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Phanuel
take on punitive roles, and on the Day of Judgement will
cast Azaz’el and his armies into the furnace. In the Apoc-
alypse of Zephaniah 4.1–7 (first century BC to first century
AD: Charlesworth 1983–1985: 1.497), ‘myriads and
myriads of angels with fiery scourges cast the souls of the
ungodly men into their eternal punishment’.
If the fragment is Jewish, then the concept of angels of
fire as destructive agents may have been derived from
pseudepigraphical sources. Yet a couple of passages
mentioning angels as bearers of fiery, retributive punish-
ment in Jewish pseudepigraphica does not constitute a firm
basis to make a link here.
Caution is in order, and not just because of the very
fragmentary wording which survives. Consequently, our
default conclusion is that, without further evidence, the
inscription should be treated as pagan; a Christian affilia-
tion is not confirmed by the mention of three quite
disparate Christian texts, and in any case the date proposed
for the text probably rules out a Christian link. The possi-
bility that it is Jewish, or reflects Jewish influence on a
pagan inscription via two pseudepigraphical passages, is
also too slim a basis to warrant credence.
3a. Petzl 1994: no. 3; Köleköy in the territory of Saittai or
Silandos in Lydia; AD 164–165 (fig. 3).
Μέγας Μεὶς Ἀξιοττηνὸς Ταρσι βα-
σιλεύων. ἐπεὶ ἐπεστάθη σκῆ-
πτρον, εἴ τις ἐκ τοῦ βαλανείου τι
4 κλέψι – κλαπέντος οὖν εἱματίου
ὁ θεὸς ἐνεμέσησε τὸν κλέπτην
καὶ ἐπόησε μετὰ χρόνον τὸ εἱμά-
τιον ἐνενκῖν ἐπὶ τὸν θεόν, καὶ ἐ-
8 ξωμολογήσατο. ὁ θεὸς οὖν ἐκέλευ-
σε δι’ ἀνγέλου πραθῆναι τὸ εἱμά-
τιν καὶ στηλλογραφῆσαι τὰς δυ-
νάμεις. ἔτους σμ̣θʹ.
 Anatolian Studies 2016

8 χαριστῶ οὖν Ἀμμιας ὑπ-

ὲρ Διονυσιάδος, καὶ ἐθήκομ-
εν * ἑκατὸν καθὼς ἐπε-
ζήτησαν οἱ πάτριοι θεοί.

Khryseros and Stratonikos asked the ancestral gods

stemming from the things/people they know and the
things/people they do not know, just as it was revealed
to us by the angelos of the god Men Petraeites
Axetenos; therefore, I Ammias give thanks on behalf
of Dionysias, and we have provided one hundred
denaria just as the ancestral gods sought.

The first significant study of inscriptions of this type

appeared over a century ago (Steinleitner 1913), though
neither of the two reproduced above was known at the time
(3a first published in 1962; 3b in 1991). The 33 texts from
Asia Minor included by F.S. Steinleitner (1913) were
supplemented by 14 lead tablets from Knidos, at least
some of which have a ‘cousin’ relationship to the confes-
sion texts in their mention of punishment for guilty actions,
and seven excerpts from Greek and Latin literature which

Fig. 3. No. 3a: confession inscription from Lydia, AD

164/5 (Petzl 1994: no. 3; reproduced with the permission
of Georg Petzl).

Great is Men Axiottenos who rules as king at Tarsi!

When a sceptre was set in place in case anyone stole
anything from the bathhouse, after a cloak was stolen
the god took vengeance on the thief and made him
bring the cloak to the god after some time, and he
confessed (what he had done). So the god gave instruc-
tions through an angelos that the cloak be sold, and that
his powers be recorded on a stele. Year 249.

3b. Petzl 1994: no. 38; Lydia; third century(?); SEG

41.1039 (fig. 4).

ἠρώτησαν Χρυσέρως κὲ
Στρατόνεικος ἐξ εἰδό-
των καὶ μὴ εἰδότων τοὺ-
4 ς πατρίους θεοὺς καθὼς
ἡμῖν ἐδηλώθη ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀν- Fig. 4. No. 3b: confession inscription from Lydia, third
γέλου τοῦ θεοῦ Μηνὸς Πε- century AD(?) (Petzl 1994: no. 38; reproduced with the
τραείτου Ἀξετηνοῦ· εὐ- permission of Georg Petzl).

146
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
rather more remotely express a kinship with his main
focus. The Asia Minor items were greatly augmented over
the next 80 years or so: nearly 130 have been presented by
G. Petzl (1994, though he excludes Steinleitner 1913: no.
17), including a couple subsequent to his volume (Petzl
1997); and nearly a score of further texts has since been
published by others (Chaniotis 2009: 116, n.7). All of these
come from two small regions in rural northeastern Lydia
and Phrygia. More are still to appear in a collection of
unpublished inscriptions from Lydia with religious content
as a supplementary volume to TAM, edited by Petzl and H.
Malay (G. Petzl, personal communication February 2015).
The two earliest internally dated texts published so far are
Petzl 1994: no. 56 and SEG 53.1344 (both AD 57–58), the
latest Petzl 1994: no. 11 (AD 263–264). By no means all
are dated, and the majority appear to congregate around
the later second and early third centuries. The texts are
quite formulaic in the kinds of information they include,
but each is distinctive in dealing with a particular wrong
action for which appeal was often made to a local god to
flush out the perpetrator and ensure justice for the victim.
For the interpretation of 3a.2–4 (the sceptre mentioned in
this and other inscriptions from Lydia, both funerary and
confession texts, was erected in the local sanctuary as a
visual deterrent against theft, tomb violation, etc.), see
Petzl 2011. Some of the texts reflect in their wording a
different stage in the process, whereby the wrongdoer has
been discovered and erects a monument acknowledging
the misdeed, thereby achieving reconciliation with the god
(cf. Steinleitner 1913: 108–17). Frequently people are
named (so 3b), though not always (thus 3a). The god is
usually identified, and – very importantly – praised explic-
itly for ensuring justice. In the two decades since Petzl’s
volume appeared, considerable discussion of these
monuments has ensued, some of which are listed in our
bibliography (s.vv. Chaniotis 2009 [especially valuable on
the performative elements in confession rituals]; Belayche
2006; 2008; Gordon 2004; Klauck 1996; Petzl 2003).
These two texts are included in M. Paz de Hoz’s valuable
assemblage of evidence for the range of cults in Lydia
(1999: 127, with catalogue nos 39.42 and 39.14, respec-
tively). 3b is not the only example among the texts so far
published to mention an amount paid to achieve expiation
(cf. Petzl 1994: xi); nor is it the only one to mention
expiation for wrongdoing of which there was no awareness
(cf. Petzl 1994: nos 51, 53).
No differentiating significance should be placed on the
presence of the definite article attached to ἀνγέλου in 3b
in contrast to 3a. These two inscriptions are the only ones
known hitherto in the series which mention an angelos,
and in both the angelos is an emissary of the god
Meis/Men. It is not impossible that the angelos in these
two inscriptions is a mortal (cf. our definition no. 1 above
147
in the introduction); but a divine being is more likely, in
our view, given the authoritative tone of each text, and
perhaps the expectation that a human angelos would be
named (cf. New Docs 1989: 5.73) in contrast to the tacit
acceptance that a divine emissary may not be. Such
ambivalence about the identification of an angelos as
divine or human occurs in several passages in the Septu-
agint. A notable instance is Judges 13 (in both versions the
textual differences relating to the point here are minimal).
In this story of the birth of Samson an aggelos kuriou
appears to the barren wife and informs her that she will
have a child (verse 3); she then tells her husband than an
anthropos tou theou who seemed like an aggelos tou theou
came to her, but did not divulge his name (6). The husband
entreats God that the aggelos tou theou should return and
provide further information about the coming child (8); the
aggelos tou theou appears to the woman again (9), who
tells her husband that the aner has returned (10). The
switching of the wording between aner/anthropos and
aggelos continues (11), but from verse 13 onwards the
visitor is consistently described as aggelos kuriou (15, 16,
17). He evades their request to reveal his name, saying it
is thaumaston (18); but they finally recognise his divine
nature (22; contrast verse 16) when they witness his
ascending to heaven in the flame going up from the
sacrifice which the couple were making to God (21) – at
which point the husband fears that they will both die for
‘we have seen God’ (22).
The inscriptions, like all those belonging to this small,
discrete genre, are clearly pagan. However, it has been
claimed that, while Christian influence on the creators and
their wording of these confession texts is excluded on date
grounds alone, Jewish wording and ideas may have
exercised an impact on the formulations which occur.
Sheppard (1980/1981: 77, cf. 98) chooses his way of
presenting this argument carefully: not ‘substantive Jewish
influence or … explicit Jewish-pagan syncretism’; ‘some
terms were borrowed from the Hellenistic Jewish commu-
nities of the area without any real understanding of their
original monotheistic background’. There are several
different kinds of inscriptions among the dozen he deals
with, including the confession text here (3a). From this
item, he picks out the word angelos as an example of a
‘garbled’ misunderstanding, not ‘real Jewish influence on
pagans’, but a ‘misappropriation of religious language’
(Sheppard 1980/1981: 93; a view regarded by Arnold
1995: 76 as ‘… not impossible, [but] certainly not
necessary …’). The items in the present article which are
also dealt with by Sheppard are our 2, 3a, 4a–d, 5, 7b
(= Sheppard 1980/1981: nos 7, 10, 2, 1, 3, 4, 11, 9, respec-
tively); and he alludes briefly to our 8 and 12 (Sheppard
1980/1981: 87 and 82, respectively). In a separate essay
(Sheppard 1979) he also discusses the ‘angelos of Roubes’
 Anatolian Studies 2016
epitaph (10). We have not gained the impression that
Sheppard proposes ‘a single cult of angeloi in late
antiquity’ (pace Cline 2011a: 52).
Thirty-five years after Sheppard’s article (cf. SEG
31.1689) it is time for a re-evaluation of its argument, for
positive reference to this essay continues to be made
regularly, as well as general acceptance of its proposition
without explicit mention of the article by some (for
example, Mitchell, Van Nuffelin 2010: 7, 12–13, who are
of course well aware of it even though it is not listed in that
book’s bibliography). There are two main reasons why his
proposal fails, and they will be presented mainly at this
stage in our essay with regard to this confession text (3a)
currently before us, since that item was known to him and
forms part of his article’s argument. Our 3b above had not
been published at the time of his essay’s appearance. To
ensure there is no misunderstanding, we are not denying
the possibility and even likelihood of any cross-fertilisation
between Jews and others in Roman Asia Minor. Our focus
is specifically the phenomenon of angeloi.
The first reason why it is not credible to posit even
indirect Jewish influence on these confession texts (pace
Mitchell 1999b: 114), even at the level of pagan misun-
derstanding in their appropriation of Jewish ideas and
wording, is the tiny geographical concentration of
epigraphically preserved confessions in rural Phrygia and
Lydia (Petzl 1994: xvii). Furthermore, two mentions of
angeloi among more than six score inscriptions published
to date is a minute proportion. This alone should be enough
for considerable caution about imputing Jewish contact
and impact, however remote, on these inscriptions, which
reflect numerous verbal and other formulaic similarities,
such as to justify them being treated as an identifiable
subgenre. Since these texts are reflective of a village
populace – i.e. those lacking much opportunity for
education or mobility – the people who set up these
inscriptions had to rely on others to have the texts inscribed
according to the requisite formula. And the people to do
this would be the temple functionaries, exactly as at
Epidauros on a much more ambitious scale for the large
inscriptions set up to advertise Asklepios’ healing miracles
in the late fourth century BC. The priests controlled the
cult, and naturally wished to ensure its continuing viability
by drawing attention to the achievements of the god in
question, whether Asklepios in the Peloponnese or Men,
Anaetis and others as guarantors of local justice in the rural
villages of Lydia and Phrygia. The same situation for those
totally or nearly illiterate pertains everywhere in antiquity;
a villager in rural Egypt in the Roman period who felt
aggrieved about some matter had to find a scribe who
knew the right formulas to use in order to craft his petition
to the authorities. As in that situation, so with those seeking
justice in Lydian and Phrygian villages: the shrine func-
148
tionaries knew the appropriate terminology to apply to
each particular case brought to them.
Moreover, it is not as if the appearance of these texts
from at least the mid first century AD can have signalled
the start of a new system of rural justice. Such an approach
to the local gods must have been in place already genera-
tions before this, even if not tangibly via inscribed stones
(Chaniotis 2004: 39–40). Whether the antecedents can be
shown to go back to the Hittites in the mid second millen-
nium, as M. Ricl implies (1995: 68), is a moot point, and
probably beyond persuasive demonstration; analogies do
not establish a line of descent of influence. The difference
now in the Roman period was the decision to set the
monuments up in Greek, and sometimes to add a relief
reflective of local styles. The visual element is not mere
ornament to catch the eye of the passerby (though it is also
that). N. Belayche (2006) clarifies usefully how the text
and its relief (raised hands, etc.) relate together in their
ultimate function of offering praise to the god in question
(cf. Petzl 1994: xvi–xvii). We have so few texts surviving
in almost any indigenous language in Asia Minor (except
Lykian) that we should probably infer that no such confes-
sion monuments were ever erected in the Phrygian or
Lydian languages; knowledge of the god’s successes in
bringing malefactors to book would have been dissemi-
nated locally by word of mouth. Hardly a choice made by
the appellants or the wrongdoers, the decision to inscribe
these texts in Greek was made by those who controlled the
village shrine to raise its profile and its god’s achievements
in securing right social behaviour within a local
community. That there is a considerable number of
locations in Phrygia and Lydia where these confession
texts have been found does not mean they were all
‘branches’ of one uniform cultic expression, offshoots of
one main shrine. Competition between the different shrines
must have been a factor stimulating the desire to ensure
their profile remained visible via the erection of
monuments recording what the god had done to ensure
justice. Such rivalry also found linguistic expression in the
drive to differentiate, by increasing use of superlatives and
compounds, the god who mattered most to a person from
the deity favoured by others (Chaniotis 2010: 120, 129–
30, 135–36). When we hear, rarely, of physical violence
against a shrine (cf. Chaniotis 2009: 143), undertaken
presumably by supporters of another one, we should infer
that such behaviour was orchestrated by those who
controlled each sanctuary.
The appeal which the Greek ‘epigraphic habit’ made
to indigenous cultures in Asia Minor in the centuries after
Alexander (and especially in the imperial period when
Roman domination embedded hellenisation firmly) was so
strong that monuments like these – not just confession
texts – overwhelmed any stimulus for a thoroughgoing
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
epichoric linguistic expression. A consequence of this
decision to record in Greek is that the gods were now
accorded Greek names for the most part (or at least names
with morphologically assimilated forms), though epichoric
vestiges are visible in some of their epithets (Petzl 1994:
xvii). Distinctive local characteristics abound in some
lexical choices, while in phonology and morphology
evidence of some linguistic interference from the indige-
nous languages in particular regions is no surprise. But the
way of cutting the letters is mainly distinctly Roman since
no confession texts of certain Hellenistic date are known,
even allowing for differing levels of aspiration among
those commissioning such texts and varying grades of
competence among the masons executing them. Relief
ornamentation (and sometimes even the preferred shape
of the stele or bomos) offers testimony, however, to local
preferences and fashions as an element distinct from the
genre of text being added; those from Phrygia are
generally easy to distinguish from Pisidian ones, for the
most part, while quite different artistic preferences are
visible on reliefs further west in Ionia, Lydia, etc. The qual-
itative differences in production between dedications
offered to Kakasbos and Herakles as rider gods at largely
outdoors rock shrines in Pisidia, as against the confession
inscriptions from Phrygia and Lydia set up at small,
purpose-built temples in villages, simply confirm the
proposal here, that where there were temple functionaries
a higher level of consistency and competence could be
provided for those requiring a monument. The latter had
some pre-industrial ‘infrastructure’, in contrast to rider god
dedications which in comparison largely lacked it. Not that
the confession texts were always planned out on the stone
and cut by highly-skilled individuals; some are undoubt-
edly well executed, but, if we take simply 3b above as an
example, the number of words broken between lines
without regard to syllable division (lines 3–4, 8–9, 9–10)
is a tell-tale sign of lower-level grasp of the cutter’s
conventions.
Second, what evidence is there for diaspora Jews living
in villages in Asia Minor? W. Ameling’s recent volume
(2004) offers very little attestation for Jewish texts in non-
urban locations. Even where the findspot in modern times
is not in an ancient city, care is still needed due to the
removal of stones in much later times for building and
repair of homes, walls and mosques, etc. (thus Ameling
2004: no. 228). Sheppard lists what appears at first sight
to be an impressive number of cities in Phrygia, Caria and
Ionia (this last including several Ionian cities) which
provide evidence of ‘organised Jewish communities’
(1980/1981: 82–83). A critical factor to allow for, however,
is the date of these testimonia, as also is the type of
evidence. A synagogue implies a settled Jewish
community with some social organisation and integration
149
into the civic community. A lone epitaph with distinctively
Jewish features may not imply anything as definite unless
there are many known, such as at Phrygian Hierapolis.
Nevertheless, we must grant the principle that lack of
evidence for a synagogue does not establish that there was
no Jewish presence in a locale (Ameling 1996: 32).
Two cautions are essential to bear in mind with the
following list. First, literary evidence is mostly not being
considered here. Second, certainty for dates of inscriptions
is frequently difficult to provide, unless there is internal
evidence. Even taking Ameling’s proposed dates as
reliable, each is of course a date for that piece of evidence
and does not automatically allow the inference that the
building or monument from which it came was only
erected in that year/period. That said, when we consider
the material collected in Ameling 2004, the following
‘broad-brush’ information emerges (by ‘broad-brush’ we
mean that many of the items in that volume are passed over
here as far too late, or doubtful due to restoration, or insuf-
ficient for Sheppard’s case in other respects – such as a
very small number of epitaphs).
Caria
Aphrodisias may look like a secure candidate for an active
Jewish presence in view of the long text mentioning
Godfearers; but its preferred date when first published has
been put back markedly (Chaniotis 2002: especially 213–
18, summarising earlier discussion). Ameling (2004: no.
14, a very thorough distillation of the issues) accepts the
fourth or fifth century against the earliest suggestion (third
century), which is itself too late for Sheppard’s argument.
Hyllarima attests a synagogue (Ameling 2004: no. 20),
but too late (after AD 212) for Sheppard’s case; a list of
names (Ameling 2004: no. 22) from the first century BC
contains at least one Jew, but probably more.
Myndos has a synagogue, but dated to the fourth to
sixth century (Ameling 2004: no. 25).
Nysa has a synagogue, but of the third or fourth century
(Ameling 2004: no. 256).
Tralleis has a fragmentary inscription mentioning an
archisynagogos, not prior to the end of the first century
BC (Ameling 2004: no. 28); if Jewish, it would imply a
synagogue, though the word is not a certain indicator of
Jewishness (see New Docs 1987: 4.213–20, no. 113, with
non-Jewish examples at nos 14–19, 21).
Ionia
Ephesos: none of the epigraphical items in Ameling 2004
(nos 30–35) is apposite for Sheppard’s argument on date
grounds alone; however, Acta Apostolorum 19.8–9 guaran-
tees a marked Jewish presence by the mid first century AD.
Miletos has the well-known inscribed marker of
reserved seats in the theatre for Jews and Godfearers
 Anatolian Studies 2016
(Ameling 2004: no. 37), but its date is the end of the
second century at the earliest, and probably belongs to late
antiquity (cf. Mitchell 2010: 194, n.101). The same date
would apply to the two other theatre seat markers
mentioning Godfearers (Ameling 2004: nos 38–39).
However, Josephus Antiquitates 14.244–46 shows that
already by the second half of the first century BC the
Jewish community there could successfully appeal to the
proconsul of the province to uphold their right to observe
the Sabbath and their other customs (Ameling 2004: 167,
n.83).
Phokaia has a synagogue dated to the third century, so
too late for Sheppard’s use (Ameling 2004: no. 36).
Smyrna has at least one synagogue (Ameling 2004: nos
41, 43), the latter dated not before the third century, the
former to at least the fourth century.
Teos has a synagogue implied in Ameling 2004: no. 46,
but it is dated to the third century.
Lydia
Philadelpheia has a synagogue (Ameling 2004: no. 49),
but the text attesting it is dated to the third century.
Sardeis is beyond dispute, with plenty of attestation of
a high-profile Jewish community in the city by the second
century. There are many texts relating to the synagogue
(Ameling 2004: nos 53–145; cf. Ameling 1996: 31, n.3),
the earliest of which is ca AD 166. Renewed analysis of
the numismatic finds has led to a redating of the synagogue
to the sixth century (Magness 2005).
Phrygia
Akmoneia has a synagogue from the mid first century
(Ameling 2004: nos 168–78; cf. Sheppard 1979: 170, 172;
Mitchell 2013: 193). Is this the earliest one attested
epigraphically in Asia Minor? Ameling (1996: 50) dates
the inscription he translates there to the mid first century;
however, in his edition of the text (Ameling 2004: 350, no.
168) he dates it to the second century. The author of Acta
Apostolorum mentions three in existence by the mid first
century, and implicitly possessing some public profile and
civic influence, at Antioch near Pisidia (13.14–43),
Ikonion (14.1–6) and Ephesos (19.8–9).
Apameia’s single item, an epitaph (Ameling 2004: no.
179; Mitchell 2013: 192–93), is dated after AD 212; thus
it is too late for Sheppard’s argument and the evidence is
too slight.
Hierapolis has many clearly Jewish gravestones, dated
from the mid second century onwards (Ameling 2004: nos
187–209); so we should accept the presence there of a
sizeable Jewish community at least by the first century.
Synnada probably attests an archisynagogos, of first- or
second-century date (Ameling 2004: no. 214); the point
made above about the same title at Tralleis applies here, too.
150
From this bald tabulation we can see firm epigraphical or
archaeological evidence for a visible Jewish community
by the second century at the following cities: Sardeis,
Akmoneia and Hierapolis, and quite probably at Tralleis
and Synnada as well. To these we should certainly add the
evidence of Josephus for Miletos and of the Acta Apos-
tolorum for the existence of Jewish communities by the
mid first century at Pisidian Antioch, Ikonion and Ephesos.
In our view, this is too slight and ‘patchy’ to accept the
premise of a sufficiently stable and influential Jewish
presence at an early enough date in the regions he
nominates for Sheppard’s thesis to be entertained – that
Jewish language and ideas were transmitted, even in
garbled form, to various hinterland and rural cults in these
areas. Villages should not be presumed to be the same as
cities in regard to Jewish settlement, and therefore with
respect to influence on the terminology of very localised
cults.
Further, the above ‘rough and ready’ analysis under-
lines what we should in any case expect, that Jews leaving
Palestine appear to have aimed to settle in larger cities, if
not immediately then at least eventually, whether to get on
with their business or craft occupation, or in the hope of
finding coreligionists. On the whole, for the couple of
centuries either side of the turn of the era we gain from our
ancient sources a general impression of Jewish mobility
in the diaspora and an aspiration to ‘make good’ in the
bigger cities of the eastern Mediterranean and in Italy. This
is not a claim that all achieved or even aspired to this (cf.
Ameling 1996: 53, n.100, where the MAMA reference
should be corrected to vol. 10.27 with fig., 28 with pl. 3
and 62 with pl. 6; these are not included in Ameling 2004
as they have menorahs only, no text). Similarly cities, not
villages, were also the places aimed for, on the whole, by
Christians in the early couple of centuries, and for similar
reasons. Paul and his co-travellers were perhaps something
of a rarity in travelling through rough country between
cities up on the Anatolian plateau; their visits to smaller
towns (such as Derbe) may have been mentioned by the
writer of Acts, but they were simply en route to other,
larger places. The Christianisation of the countryside is not
to be doubted (Phrygia in the second century affords a
particularly distinctive instance); and that must have
entailed Christians visiting those areas. However, some
converts must have relocated from elsewhere and taken up
residence there, maintaining a low profile to be able to
develop their sometimes idiosyncratic understanding of
their new faith in relative peace without swift interference.
The evidence of Josephus is not to be minimised; there
was a visible Jewish presence in parts of Asia Minor by
the second century, if not already by the first. What is at
stake, though, is whether this profile was visible predom-
inantly – or, indeed, almost solely – in urban contexts.
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
In a valuable survey (repaying reading more than once)
of what we know of Jewish communities in Hellenistic and
Roman Asia Minor, Ameling points to the risk of false
perceptions giving rise to stereotyped views of Jewish
settlement and occupations in that region (1996: 31). His
challenge involves reliance on Josephus’ claim (Antiqui-
tates 12.151) that the first Jewish settlers in Asia Minor
received land to cultivate; and he assembles other evidence
for this question (1996: 32, n.9). This may be so more
generally because of the common phenomenon that in the
Hellenic and Roman worlds urban dwellers with some
means also had land in their city’s territory. It may not mean
that these first arrivals from Palestine all lived in villages
in the chora. Ameling recognises that those who came
initially were mainly slaves, soldiers or travellers (1996:
32), and were part of a much larger phenomenon of popu-
lation drift from east to west. So it could be inferred that
they came for other purposes than to make a new start in
their trade or via farming. The resettlement by Seleucid
authorities of over 2,000 Jewish families in Lydia and
Phrygia (Josephus Antiquitates 12.147) may have occurred
for less altruistic motives than to provide those families
with land to cultivate. The cautious proposal (Ameling
1996: 30) that Jews comprised less than 5% of the popula-
tion of Asia Minor under the Empire, is based on epigraphic
and archaeological sources. Yet even this figure may be
justifiably lowered further in view of Jewish communities
having some highly literate members and others who were
wealthy and generous in providing synagogues and acts of
civic-mindedness in cities wherever they were, marking
this by the accepted method of inscribed monuments to a
degree which may have been out of proportion to their
numbers. Non-Jews did the same, of course, but as
members of elite families rather than on behalf of their
community of coreligionists (and in this regard they were
perhaps imitated later by wealthy Christians). While
Ameling rightly challenges some assumptions, neverthe-
less within a few pages the article focuses on Jews in urban
contexts (1996: 35–37), for that is where the evidence
occurs. To that extent, then, the comments in our previous
paragraph are not at odds with the tenor of much of his
discussion. However, we do differ from him when, appar-
ently accepting the view of Sheppard (1996: 44, n.66), he
comes close to seeing parallels between Jewish ideas and
those relating to indigenous Lydian and Phrygian deities.
Indeed, a reader could infer that the confession inscriptions
are being alluded to in view of the mention of the shared
expectation of offering praise (eulogia) to the deity; and,
similarly, that Hosios and Dikaios (cf. 7, below) are hinted
at with mention of the role of angeloi in both groups of
devotees, Jews as well as pagans, as a means by which a
deity associated with holiness and justice has contact with
mortals (1996: 43–44).
151
Of course, there must also have been Jews in the
Diaspora who had little education or who did not care
sufficiently to acquire thorough knowledge of their
religion’s tenets, though they still identified as Jews. What
such individuals may have been able to communicate
about their own beliefs to outsiders, whether they lived in
villages or towns or cities, must have been minimal.
We conclude that down to the first couple of centuries
AD it may well have been unusual to encounter Jews who
identified as such in the hinterland villages of Asia Minor,
and not just in Phrygia or Lydia. Accordingly, to the extent
that there is any perceptible similarity between the
language and formulas of confession inscriptions and any
distinctive wording of Jewish cult, ethical practice and
social grouping (cf. H. Pleket’s note on λαός at SEG
47.1751), we suggest that it is simply coincidental. So also
with similar notions expressed in other wording; for the
shared outlook of the confession inscriptions and certain
passages in the Septuagint, yet with quite different
wording, note especially Joshua 7.19–20: καὶ Ἰησοῦς τῷ
Αχαρ Δὸς δόξαν σήμερον τῷ κυρίῳ θεῷ Ισραηλ καὶ δὸς
τὴν ἐξομολόγησιν καὶ ἀνάγγειλόν μοι τί ἐποίησας, καὶ μὴ
κρύψῃς ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ. καὶ ἀπεκρίθη Αχαρ τῷ Ἰησοῖ καὶ εἶπεν
Ἀληθῶς ἥμαρτον ἐναντίον κυρίου θεοῦ Ισραηλ· οὕτως καὶ
οὕτως ἐποίησα· …. While the first datable confession
inscription belongs to the late 50s of the first century, that
does not mean it was the first ever produced, naturally. As
for the waning and disappearance of these texts, we may
infer that they scarcely continued to be produced beyond
the third century due to an increasingly visible Christian
presence in numerous regions (notably so for Phrygia with
the Montanist movement), testified to by the letter of
Maximinus in 312, which is known from three different
cities and must have been circulated widely, urging the
citizenry to drive out Christians from their territory
(Horsley 2007: 240–43, no. 338). As entire village
communities went over to the new Way, the former gods
gradually fell silent as desuetude marked their sanctuaries.
It was not just the gods of the confession inscriptions that
were subject to this process.
Our reassessment of Sheppard’s thesis, which in our
view has attracted undue wide acceptance in broad terms,
should not be misunderstood as a complete denial of
cultural and religious interchange between Jews and pagans
in Asia Minor. We are not asserting that the composers of
the confession texts were hermetically sealed off from
receiving any other influence, or contributing it to others.
The issue we are querying is one of geographical and social
(educational/intellectual) context. We suggest that it is not
realistic to assume that this contact and influence (however
misunderstood or misapplied) was occurring in the places
where the majority of the inscriptions in the present article
have been found, villages ‘off the beaten track’ and remote
 Anatolian Studies 2016

from cities and larger towns where such cross-currents may as attesting in combination one instance. Cline’s references
be a more realistic expectation. But our challenge is also to angelos texts at Stratonikeia (2011a: 57–58, especially
one of period, and of the larger historical context beyond n.31) are incautious and misleading – so few texts hardly
Asia Minor. It is unimaginable that Jews in Asia Minor constitute a ‘corpus’ – since he holds that the angelos in
were oblivious to the potential consequences for themselves some of these inscriptions is to be identified with theos
of the Jewish Revolt under Trajan in other provinces, from (sic) in others.
which (especially Cyprus and Egypt) Asia Minor was by
no means cut off. We should expect them to have 4a. Şahin 1982: no. 1117; second or third century.
consciously adopted a lower profile – for example the use
of non-distinctively Jewish names – for some considerable Διὶ Ὑψίστῳ
time (vague though that phraseology must be), the excep- καὶ Θείῳ Ἀγ-
tions being those very few cities such as Sardeis where a γέλῳ Νέον
large and presumably civically influential Jewish 4 καὶ Εὐφροσύ-
community was already well established. Their more νη ὑπὲρ τῶν
visible presence in late antiquity in Asia Minor correlates ἰδίων.
with the higher profile of Jewish individuals and commu-
nities in Egypt at the same time, as the non-literary To Zeus Hypsistos and to Divine Angelos, Neon and
evidence from Egypt indicates (Tcherikover, Fuks 1964 – Euphrosyne [dedicated this] on behalf of their own
though see the cautionary comments at New Docs 4.210– family.
13, especially 211, no. 112 – and Horbury, Noy 1992).
Finally, we should mention that the conclusion of 4b. Şahin 1982: no. 1118; imperial period.
Dibelius (1909: 221) over a century ago is diametrically
opposite Sheppard’s, since the former holds that the use of Διὶ Ὑψίστῳ καὶ
the term angelos in the Septuagint is attributable to pagan Ἀγαθῷ Ἀνγέλῳ
influence (‘auf heidnischen Einfluß zurückführen ist’). We Κλαύδιος Ἀχιλ-
regard his view in this respect (and in others) as exagger- 4 λεὺς καὶ Γαλατ[ί]-
ated, but it serves as a counterweight to consider when α ὑπὲρ σωτηρί[ας]
Sheppard’s argument is being assessed. μετὰ τῶν ἰδίων
πάντων χαριστ[ή]-
4. Şahin 1982: nos 1117, 1118, 1119, 1120; 1990: nos 8 ριον.
1307, 1308; Stratonikeia and Lagina in Caria; second or
third century (fig. 5). To Zeus Hypsistos and to Agathos Angelos, Claudius
For over 100 years the second-century dedications Akhilles and Galatia for their preservation with all their
from Caria involving an angelos have exercised a fascina- family [provided] a thank offering.
tion as to the identity of the divine being who appears
there. As Zeus is mentioned in three of the six inscriptions, 4c. Şahin 1982: no. 1119; second century.
it is beyond doubt that these are pagan. The six inscriptions
printed below follow the most recent edition (Şahin 1982; Θείῳ Ἀγγε-
1990); but none is dated there, so we have followed the λικῷ εὐχα-
dates given for 4a, 4b, 4e and 4f by Stephen Mitchell ριστοῦμεν
(1999b: 137–38, appendix nos 150, 151, 142, 153, respec- 4 ὑπὲρ σωτη-
tively). The second-century date proposed for them all ρίας.
mentioned by Sheppard (1980/1981: 85) is allocated to 4c
and 4d. The form of 4b is not indicated; the other five are We give thanks to the Angelic Divine being for our
bomoi. We omit other items discussed by Sheppard in the preservation.
same context – his nos 5 (= Şahin 1982: no. 1114) and 6
(= Diehl, Cousin 1887: 159 no. 67, from nearby Lagina) – 4d. Şahin 1982: no. 1120; second century.
as they do not include explicit mention of an angelos, even Θείῳ Ἀν-
though he associates those other texts with them for his 2 γελικῷ
purpose. As there is no verb in 4a, 4b, 4e and 4f, these texts εὐχαρι-
could just as well be translated with first-person plurals 4 στοῦμεν.
supplied instead of the third person we have used. As these
six texts relate to the same context, we treat them together We give thanks to the Angelic Divine being.

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4e. Şahin 1990: no. 1307; imperial period; SEG 38.1087

(fig. 5).

Διὶ Ὑψίστῳ
καὶ Θείῳ Ἀνγέ-
λῳ Οὐρανίῳ Βό-
4 ηθος κ ̣αὶ Μ
̣ ένιπ-
πος ὑπὲρ τῆς
ὑγίας πανοι-
κίου ̣χαριστή-
8 vv ριον.

To Zeus Hypsistos and Divine heavenly Angelos,

Boethos and Menippos [provided] a thank offering for
their entire family’s health.

4f. Şahin 1990: no. 1308; second century(?).

[Θε]ῷ Ὑψ[ίστ]ῳ καὶ τ̣ [ῷ]

̣
[Θ]είῳ Ἀνγέλῳ
Φ̣λά. Διοκλῆς
4 καὶ Μάμαλον
ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν
[κ]αὶ τῶν παιδί-
ων καὶ τῶν ἰδίων ̣
8 πάντων χαρισ-
[τήριον].
To Theos Hypsistos and Divine Angelos, Flavius
Diokles and Flavia Mamalon [provided] a thank
offering for themselves, their children, and all their
own family members.
Nos 4a, 4b and 4e state that an ἄγγελος is honoured along
with Zeus Hypsistos. 4f is a dedication to Theos Hypsistos,
as well as to an Angelos. In inscriptions 4c and 4d honour
is given to a single divine being, Theion or Theios, to
which the epithet angelikos is attached; and there is no
mention of Zeus. Theion/Theios appears in 4a, 4c, 4d, 4e
and 4f. In 4a, 4e and 4f it must be an adjective (as also is
agathos in 4b and ouranios in 4e) to go with angelos, but
in 4c and 4d it is a noun qualified by the epithet angelikos.
Even though the translations of these inscriptions will
therefore vary slightly, the wording amounts to the same
thing: that an angelos is being envisaged as possessing
divine status. In the four inscriptions where more than one
deity is invoked (4a, 4b, 4e, 4f), Angelos is always in
second position, permitting the inference that this divinity
was consistently viewed as subordinate to Zeus and
Theion/-os (cf. Mitchell 1999b: 102). Occasionally there
can be exceptions: a dedication to Διὶ | Ἀνγέλῳ (Gerasa in
Provincia Arabia, second or third century) conceives of
Zeus as a messenger (SEG 32.1539). We should resist the
Fig. 5. No. 4e: dedication from Stratonikeia in Caria,
imperial period (Varinlioǧlu 1988: pl. 2; reproduced with
the permission of Ender Varinlioǧlu).
temptation to separate these two words by means of
modern punctuation in order to differentiate Zeus from the
angelos, for that would smooth out what is, at face value,
an oddity. As these six inscriptions are all located in Stra-
tonikeia and nearby Lagina, the probability is that the
reference is to the same divine angelic being. Whether any
significance should be seen in the named dedicators
always being family members – spouses or siblings(?) –
would require analysis lying beyond the scope of the
present discussion.
What have others said about these brief, formulaic
texts? Cumont had accepted in 1906 that there were two
distinct deities in 4a and 4b; but under the influence of
other, related Stratonikeian dedications to Zeus which did
not mention an angelos, he changed his view and regarded
the angelos wording as referring to Zeus (Cumont 1915:
161–62 and n.2 on the latter page). This seems doubtful
in itself, and others have not agreed with him.
Sokolowski, taking θείῳ as a dative form of the neuter
noun τὸ θεῖον, sees two gods present: Zeus and another
with angelic power variously called Theion (sic) Angelos

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 Anatolian Studies 2016
(4a), Agathos Angelos (4b) and Theion Angelikon (4c,
4d). He identifies this god as Hekate, and connects his
interpretation with what he says about the Didyma
inscription (1) discussed above (Sokolowski 1960: 226–
28; an identification accepted by Arnold 1995: 73;
regarded as ‘plausible’ by Cline 2011a: 58–59). In 1940,
M.P. Nilsson, for whom Rehm’s volume was not yet
available, had already proposed Hekate for these Stra-
tonikeia texts. He observes that Hekate was an indigenous
deity of Caria and that she was adopted by the Greeks
perhaps as far back as the Archaic period. ‘That Hecate
originated in Caria is established by the fact that proper
names compounded with her name are very frequent in
this district and rare or absent elsewhere’ (Nilsson 1961b:
90). She had a sanctuary at Lagina, where she received
cult in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, extending to at
least the third century (Fox 1986: 44, 135). However,
Nilsson regards Sokolowski’s claim that Theios was to be
identified with Hekate as untenable (‘unhaltbar’), and also
rejects as impossible (‘unmöglich’: 1961a: 2.577 n.1) that
these dedications refer to a neuter Theion. In his slightly
later paper which is largely concerned with the High God
in Greek paganism, Nilsson mentions the Stratonikean
inscriptions, including 4a above, Διὶ Ὑψίστῳ καὶ Θείῳ
Ἀγγέλῳ, which he translates as offered to ‘the Most High
Zeus and the Messenger Deity’. In his view, ‘Messenger
is a fitting name for a Deity who is a Mediator between
the High God and man’ (Nilsson 1963: 116). In
concluding his remarks on the Stratonikean inscriptions,
he refers to St Paul’s missionary travels and says,
‘Christian influence cannot be excluded’. In our opinion,
this comment is too speculative to carry any weight.
Equally dubious in another direction is Dibelius’ view that
4a implies for the angelos a link with the underworld
(1909: 218), part of his exaggerated notion that the
angeloi are frequently (‘oft’) associated with chthonic
deities (1909: 216).
L. Robert also considers the second divine power to be
a god called Theion: ‘il est certain qu’ à Stratonicée de
Carie on a des dédicaces au Theion, soit avec Zeus, qui
évidemment proviennent toutes d’un même sanctuaire’.
Later he speaks of this additional divinity as one ‘qui sert
d’intermédiaire et qui peut être plus ou moins son
emanation’ (Robert 1958: 115, 118 = OMS 1.414, 417). He
quotes several inscriptions in support of his claim,
including our nos 4a, 4c and 4d above, plus two further
items from Stratonikeia (now printed as Şahin 1982: nos
814 and 1110) in which Theion/-os is mentioned but
without explicit addition of angel- wording.
In each of the six inscriptions which Sheppard adduces
(1980/1981: 79), he takes θεῖον as ‘certainly’ referring to
the same divinity; and reasonably so. His claim is less
reasonable, however, that the source of this being, and
154
others to whom we shall refer later, is to be found in ‘the
Hellenistic Jewish communities in the area’. From these
communities ‘some terms were borrowed and used in the
inscriptions by pagans without any real understanding of
their original monotheistic background’ (1980/1981: 77),
a view which Horsley accepted too unquestioningly a
generation ago (New Docs 1989: 5.73, 136, 144–45, this
last place alluding to several theos hypsistos texts
including 4e above). Sheppard (1980/1981: 80) therefore
rejects Cumont’s proposal (1915: 161; 1929: 127) of
Syrian pagan influence, and points out that there is no
evidence of a substantial Syrian presence in the area. He
disagrees as well with Sokolowski’s proposal that the
divine being is Hekate (Sheppard 1980/1981: 79).
Sheppard acknowledges that the Magoi, a group ‘who
claimed spiritual descent from the priesthood of the
Persian period’, were active in Lydia at Hierokaisareia and
Hypaipa, but dismisses them also as a possible source of
influence in Caria (1980/1981: 80–82). This ‘clears the
decks’, as it were, and allows him to propose the
Hellenistic Jews of the area as the most likely group from
whom the pagans borrowed the divine being who appears
in the inscriptions. He mentions that organised Jewish
communities existed in Caria at Myndos and Hyllarima
(1980/1981: 82); but the evidence is too late for his
argument to gain any strength from these references, as we
have seen in discussion above on no. 3. In pressing for his
view even further, Sheppard implies that a process was at
work which seems to us highly doubtful, when he claims
that certain wording in a highly erudite man like Philo and
in Christian authors influenced by him may have been a
source from which the Stratonikean cult drew some of its
‘language and theology’ (1980/1981: 84). It proves nothing
to adduce as relevant to the Stratonikeia texts Philo’s
words in his account (Moses 281) of the story of Balaam
and the angel in the Old Testament (Septuagint Num.
24.13), in which Balaam refers to the angel as τὸ θεῖον.
Sheppard’s argument here is unconvincing. The pagan
inscriptions at Stratonikeia are highly unlikely to have
been influenced by knowledge of Jewish or Christian
angels, whether garbled or not. They manifest the same
terminology, but are independent of that religio-intellectual
stream.
We cannot detour at any length here from our main
focus on angeloi to comment in detail on Theos
Hypsistos, whose cult and identity have been explored
very usefully recently by Mitchell (especially 1999b;
2010). His assembling of over 300 epigraphic attestations
– mostly dedications from Greece and regions further east
in the Empire, but so very few (four, in fact: Mitchell
1999b: 136 appendix nos 125, 126 [with further comment
at 2010: 202]; 2010: 202 nos A37, A38) from Italy and
further west that perhaps we would be justified to infer
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence

that they may be due simply to visiting travellers there –
should continue to stimulate further investigation. Here a
couple of observations are offered briefly. First, this
deity’s epithet, hypsistos, means he (once ‘she’: Mitchell
1999b: 138, no. 167) is defined solely in relationship to
other gods, not actually for who he is, and so does not
necessarily imply a monotheistic perception of the divine
by the dedicators. Second, it is sometimes implied that,
since Theos Hypsistos worship was ‘rigorously aniconic’
(Mitchell 2010: 174–75), the connection with Judaism –
and therefore with the latter as a source of influence on
pagan monotheism – is strengthened. And Nilsson is right
to observe (1961a: 664) the attractiveness of the neutral
terminology which ‘Theos Hypsistos’ afforded to Jews
who were uncomfortable with their God Jahwe being
identified with pagan gods. Yet it would be odd if Judaism
were the source (main or ultimate) of theos hypsistos
terminology as reflective of an Empire-wide development
towards monotheism, given the comparatively small
number of demonstrably plus possibly Jewish inscriptions
mentioning Theos Hypsistos. Mitchell’s tally of Jewish
instances (2010: 186–87) is not easy to follow; but if we
accept his total as being 40 out of a total of 220 Theos
Hypsistos inscriptions (2010: 167), that leaves a very
large residue of over 80% whose fons et origo is indeter-
minate. The present contested context cautions against
any of those being presumed Jewish or Jewish-influ-
enced, lest they be accorded a firm numerical total or
proportion. Similarly, Josephus (contra Apionem 2.39,
282) is too hyperbolical in tone to be marshalled in
support of the claim for widespread Jewish influence on
pagan behavioural patterns and terminology (pace
Mitchell 2010: 190).
occurrence of προσευχή put the inscription as Jewish
beyond doubt, even granting that non-Jews do employ this
noun too, perhaps under Jewish influence (cf. Robert 1936:
237–38 = OMS 3.1610–11). With Mitchell’s agreement,
Sheppard (1980/1981: 94–99, no. 11, pl. 2) had published
the text first, and dated it late second or early third century,
regarding it as pagan with Jewish borrowing incorporated.
Ameling excludes the text from his collection of Jewish
inscriptions from Asia Minor (2004: 335, n.4), perhaps
over-cautiously. By the first century on either side of the
turn of the era synagoge was starting to oust proseukhe as
the standard Jewish term for ‘synagogue’ (New Docs 1987:
4.220, no. 113; Horsley 1999: 136–38); so the presence of
the latter word in this incomplete text of second- or third-
century date is not alone proof positive of a Jewish context.
It is the conjunction in this short text of the various words
and phrases which could edge us towards acceptance of
Mitchell’s view – even though he subsequently acknowl-
edged (1999b: 114; 2010: 187, n.78) that strong confidence
about its Jewish character needed to be tempered. Each on
its own does not amount to confirmation of Jewishness,
but in combination here it may seem counter-intuitive to
deny the implications.

5. Mitchell 1982: 209b; Kalecik, in the territory of Ancyra

in Galatia; third century(?); SEG 31.1080 (fig. 6).

τῷ μεγάλῳ
Θεῷ Ὑψίϲτῳ καὶ
ἐπουρανίῳ καὶ
4 τοῖϲ ἁγίοιϲ αὐτοῦ
ἀνγέλοιϲ καὶ τῇ
προϲκυνητῇ αὐ-
τοῦ προϲευχῇ τὰ
8 ὧ ̣δ ̣ε ἔργα γείνεται
---

For the great and heavenly Theos Hypsistos, and for

his holy angeloi and for his respected house of prayer,
the works here are set forth ...
For Mitchell, when he published this incomplete text
(perhaps a list of building works) over 30 years ago, the
Fig. 6. No. 5: dedication listing maintenance(?) work on
a building, third century AD(?) (Mitchell 1982: no. 409b;
reproduced with the permission of Stephen Mitchell).

155
 Anatolian Studies 2016
However, the three epithets with Theos at the start of
the inscription may give us pause, for they amount to a
cumbersome attempt to merge notions of megas theos,
theos hypsistos and theos epouranios. We may wonder
whether a Jew who initiated this text would have felt it
necessary to define his God in such a multi-faceted
manner. For a clearly pagan near-analogy, see New Docs
1983: 3.31–32, no. 7. On that basis, we conclude that the
Jewish or pagan affiliation of this inscription should
remain open, but we incline towards the latter, as does
Ameling who excludes it from his corpus (Ameling 2004:
335, n.4).
6. Kearsley in Horsley 2007: no. 32; Pisidia; second or
third century (fig. 7).
Διοϲκόροις εὐα̣γγελί[οιϲ]
2 Λούκιοϲ Π̣ρ[̣ είμου? εὐχήν].
To the Dioskoroi, the bringers of good news, Loukios
[(son of Primus?) (fulfilled) his vow].
The Dioskoroi fit well into the second definition given in
the introduction, above, and the inscription is included here
even though they are not called angeloi. In the Dacian
region of Sarmizagethusa a Latin dedication perhaps to
Jupiter Dolichenus as well as to Juno has been interpreted
for the additional wording et angelis to refer to the
Dioskoroi (Bowersock 2013: 96). While they are not
usually identified explicitly as divine messengers like
Hermes or Iris, their connection with Poseidon (à propos
horses; cf. Horsley 2007: 89–90, no. 121, with commen-
tary) perhaps makes comprehensible their salvific role
especially for those on the sea. Though represented icono-
graphically in a way that does not reflect this latter
function, we may infer a role for them as bringers of a
message of safety to sailors; and then such a notion
becomes generalised and attached to them even in a non-
maritime context such as Pisidia, well inland from the
southern coast of Asia Minor up on the Anatolian plateau.
These twin gods are frequently depicted on horseback, as
in the present monument; and P. Talloen notes the appro-
priateness of their epithet here in the context of mention
of a Byzantine church lintel from the territory of Oinoanda,
where mounted angels are depicted ‘sounding trumpets to
announce the coming of God’s kingdom’ (Talloen 2015:
205, n.331).
In various grammatical forms the εὐαγγελ- compound
was embraced by Christian writers from very early after
the birth of that movement, at least by the second half of
the first century, and was on the way to becoming inextri-
cably associated with it probably before the end of the
second century. It may have taken its inspiration from the
156
Fig. 7. No. 6: dedication to Dioskoroi, second or third
century AD (Horsley 2007: pl. 35; reproduced with the
permission of the British Institute at Ankara).
use of the terminology to announce the celebration of the
birthday or some achievement (such as a victory) of the
Roman princeps (New Docs 1983: 3.10–15, no. 2). This
inscription shows, however, that a use of longer standing
was still in existence.
In our present context of angeloi connected with
divinity, the adjective in this recently published text offers
a point of contact with an inscription which has been
known much longer. On Samos, a lengthy inventory of
sacred property belonging to the Temple of Hera lists
various items (clothing, etc.) dedicated to Hera herself
and other deities such as Hermes who also have a
presence in the temple. That is, their cult statues will be
adorned with these tunics, headbands, etc. In addition,
one of seven headcoverings for females (kredemna,
‘veils’?) is specified to be worn by ἡ Εὐαγγελίς (IG
12.6.126.1.22, 37, dated 346–345 BC). This term has
usually been seen as the official title of the priestess of
Hera (so, for example, LSJ Rev. Suppl. s.v.), although
Sokolowski (1960: 227) follows some earlier discussions
in preferring to see it as an epithet of Artemis. A specula-
tive alternative proffered here is that this is a perfect title
for Iris as the female messenger of the gods. Both these
possibilities had already been raised over a century ago
(reported by Dibelius 1909: 219). Perhaps her statue was
placed in the Heraion just as was Hermes’ and clothed
with some of the dedicatory gifts. A hint in support of this
suggestion may lie in line19 of this long text: παράλασσις
ἶριν ἐμ μέσωι ἔχει ἁλοργήν, ‘a garment with iridescent
purple in the middle’. LSJ s.v. Ἶρις, II.3 (‘iridescent
garment’) accepts C. Michel’s lack of capitalisation
(1900: no. 832); but if it were capitalised as in the IG
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence

edition we might render: ‘a garment with a purple Iris in

the middle’. That is, if the goddess’ statue were included
in the Heraion, it may have been clothed with a robe
which also portrayed her.
We may note, additionally, that Smyrna had a month
called Euaggelios, an Ionian god Euangelos is attested,
Euangelios is a byname for Hermes (Usener 1896: 268–
70) and that over 100 instances of the word as a personal
name are listed in LGPN 1–5B.

7a. Ricl 1992a: 95 no. 1; Bozan Köyü in Phrygia; second

or third century; SEG 41.1185 (fig. 8).

[θε]ο ̣υ Ἀπόλω̣ν ̣ο ̣ϲ κα[ὶ]

τ[ῶν] ἀ ̣ν ̣γ̣έ ̣λω̣ν αὐτοῦ Ὁ̣ϲ ̣ίῳ̣
[κὲ Δ]ικέ̣ ̣ ῳ Μάντριοϲ, Φον-
4 ικόϲ
̣ και Ἀϲκληπιόϲ,
ὑποτακτικοὶ θεῶν,
ὑπὲρ ϲυνοίκων εὐτ-
υχ ̣ῶϲ πρὸϲ εὐχ ̣[ήν].

Mantrios, Phonikos and Asklepios, obedient servants

of the gods – the god Apollo and his angeloi – (set up
this dedication) to Hosios and Dikaios to fulfil their
vow on behalf of their family members, for good
fortune.

Over 150 inscriptions mentioning Hosios and Dikaios

(mostly ex votos) are known to date, largely through Ricl’s
corpus and updating stocktake (1991; 1992a; 1992b;
2008). The vast majority are from Lydia and Phrygia, and
are to be dated to the second or more likely third century
– inviting comparison with the confession inscriptions in
both respects – though at least one (from Mysia) has been
assigned to the first century AD (Petzl 1992). Examples
from elsewhere in Asia Minor as well as Macedonia and
Greece have more recently become known (Ricl 2008).
The epigraphic mentions vary between thinking of Hosios
and Dikaios as a single deity or as an inextricable pair.
Talloen (2015: 195, n.266) holds that we are dealing with
a single deity, but on this point we should accept the
evidence as ambivalent.
Concerning the text printed above, the editor’s photo
shows the first omikron in Apollo’s name clearly enough
that a subscript dot is not warranted. In the last line of
this inscription part of khi appears to be visible on the
editor’s photograph (Ricl 1992a: pl. 9.1). Although it is
most probably a dedication to Hosios and Dikaios, the
possibility of genitive/dative confusion for those two
nouns cannot be ruled out. In that case, lines 2–3 would
then be understood to mean that those deities are explic-
itly the angeloi of Apollo. Even without case confusion
being accepted, the text still implies that these angeloi
Fig. 8. No. 7a: dedication to Hosios and Dikaios, second
or third century AD (Ricl 1992b: no. 1; reproduced with
the permission of Marijana Ricl).
are Apollo’s agents in dispensing justice. Their very
names make clear that the applying of justice to mortals
is their primary (if not sole) function. Apollo is repre-
sented with a radiate head in his identification with
Helios, and he appears to be driving a quadriga in view
of the number of horses carved on the relief: parallels to
these features occur at, for example, Horsley 2007: nos
18 and 108, respectively. Either way, the inscription
reflects an incontrovertibly pagan context for these
angeloi. This dedication and 7b below demonstrate that
verbatim wording was not required to make the same
point. Taking them as a group we may legitimately
extrapolate that these justice gods are connected with
Apollo, himself a justice god in parts of Asia Minor (cf.
the comment on 1 above), and may have been thought of
as his agents or subordinate intermediaries, hence the
occasional naming of them as angeloi, as in 7b, to which
we now turn.

157
 Anatolian Studies 2016

7b. Ricl 1991: no. 1; Temrek, southwest of Saittai in Lydia;

second or third century; cf. SEG 41.1010 (fig. 9).

[ἡ - -]νῶν κα[τ]ο ̣ικία

̣
[……] καὶ Ἀνγέλῳ Ὁϲίῳ
[Δικ]αίῳ εὐχαριϲτοῦντε[ϲ]
4 [ἀν]έ ̣ϲτηϲαν διὰ προφήτο[υ]
[Ἀ]λ ̣εξάνδρου Cαïττηνο[ῦ].

The community of …neis(?), giving thanks to … and

to Angelos Hosios Dikaios set this up, through the
prophetes Alexander of Saittai.

Ricl’s text reflects P. Herrmann’s re-editing of the inscrip-

tion in TAM 5.1.185, which improves on L. Robert’s editio
princeps (1958: 120–24 = OMS 1.419–23; SEG 20.11).
Sheppard (1980/1981: 90–92, no. 9), naturally, only had
Robert’s edition available to him at the time of his own
article. Arnold was not aware of Ricl’s new edition (1995:
75); Cline’s translation is not reflective of the edition of the
Greek text he includes (2011a: 66). In the context of her
brief mention of this text, Paz de Hoz (1999: 122, cat. no.
40.29) proceeds to raise the possibility that her catalogue
no. 40.29, an inscribed statue of a child holding a caduceus,
forming a dedication to Meter Notene (dated AD 168–169),
may represent an angelos. This is too speculative an asso-
ciation without a firmer basis for the claim, for, to our
knowledge, nowhere else in Roman Asia Minor are angelic
figures portrayed on monuments – or, at least, not in a
manner which makes them clearly identifiable as such.
This text, clearly pagan like 7a, also lends some
support to the idea raised there that Hosios Dikaios
(thought of here as one god, not two, as implied by the
preceding singular noun) is angelos of another deity,
perhaps Apollo as in 7a. We suggest that the latter’s name
would fit the lacuna in line 2 here, adopting the single
lambda spelling which occurs in 7a: Ἀπόλωνι. Each of the
following three lines has 19–20 letters, so this proposed
restoration would fit. Horsley 2007: no. 19 (Pisidia, second
century) is a further dedication to Apollo in concert with
Hosios and Dikaios, though there no mention of an
angelos occurs. Mitchell (personal communcation January
2015) suggests that item may be from the Upper Tembris
valley in view of the carving of the ‘shell’ eyes of the
figures on the relief.
It is tempting to include one further inscription
concerning these gods here, but it must be excluded from
consideration with a brief explanation why. First published
by Sheppard (1980/1981: 87–90, pl. 1; SEG 31.1130) and
re-edited by Ricl (1991: 25, no. 48), the text (Yaylababa
Köyü in Phrygia, third century, after AD 212) was read as
a dedication to Hosios Dikaios by a private association of
‘friends of the angels’ (Φιλανγέλων ϲυνβί|ωϲιϲ, lines 1–2).
Fig. 9. No. 7b: dedication to Hosios Dikaios, second or
third century AD (Ricl 1991: no. 1; reproduced with the
permission of Marijana Ricl).
Sheppard notes the scales in the hand of the figure on the
left, but mistakenly concludes this may be a woman: rather,
it is the two justice gods named in the text who are repre-
sented. The monument was discussed along with other
Hosios/Dikaios dedications by R.A. Kearsley (New Docs
1992: 6.206–09, no. 31; SEG 42.1810) before she was
aware of Ricl’s corpus. F.R. Trombley (1993–1994: 1.154–
55), too, was able to draw only on Sheppard’s editio
princeps. Subsequently, H. Malay (2007: 42–44; SEG
55.1419; not known to Cline 2011a: 66) emended the
inscription to replace Φιλανγέλων with Φιλανπέλων, and
published another inscription from the same region on
which that word is incontrovertible (his fig. 3) in its
mention of an association of ‘lovers of the vine’: i.e. vine-
dressers – tempting though it may be to call them a ‘wine
appreciation society’! His emendation has found general
acceptance (see discussion in Harland 2014: 143–49, no.
112). Malay’s good photos (2007: figs 1–2) of details of the
lettering show that a crack on the stone at the crucial point
had created the uncertainty about the mid-word lettering –
ΝΠ not ΝΓ. We have not seen this stone, and a lingering
uncertainty as to the correct reading remains for us. Never-
theless, even without this inscription being adduced, there
are still two dedications from different regions of Asia
Minor (7a and 7b) which attest Hosios (and) Dikaios as
angeloi, sometimes explicitly in association with Apollo.
On this stone erected by a private association, Apollo, too,
may be represented via the radiate head carved in the

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 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
pediment, given the frequent identification of Apollo and
Helios (for example at the Sanctuary of Apollo Lairbenos
in Phrygia). The relief on this monument indicates that two
deities are in the dedicator’s mind, despite the lack of the
copula between Ὁϲίῳ Δικέῳ, as is also inferred for 7b, on
the ground of available space on the stone. Apollo, Helios
and Hosios Dikaios are the dedicatees on two further
inscriptions from Phrygia (Ricl 2008: 570, nos 20–21).
8. Bean 1971: no. 37; Oinoanda in Lykia; third century;
hexameters; SEG 27.933 (figs 10–11).
[α]ὐτοφυής, ἀδί|δακτος, ἀμήτωρ, | ἀστυφέλικτος,
| οὔνομα μὴ χω|ρῶν, πολυώνυμος, | ἐν πυρὶ ναίων·
| τοῦτο θεός, μεικρὰ | δὲ θεοῦ μερὶς ἄνγε|λοι̣ ἡμεῖς.
4 τοῦτο πευ|θομένοισι θεοῦ πέ|ρι ὅστις ὑπ ̣ά ̣ρχε̣ι,
| Α̣ἰ[θ]έ ̣[ρ]α πανδερ ̣κ ̣[ῆ] | [θε]ὸν ἔννεπεν, εἰς | ὃν
ὁρῶντας
εὔχεσθ’ ἠῴ̣ |ους πρὸς ἀντολίην ἐσορῶ[ν]|τα[ς]. ̣
Self-existent, untaught, lacking any mother, unshaken,
though a name does not contain him, (yet) with many
names, dwelling in fire: this is God, and we angeloi are
a small portion of God. To those making this enquiry
about God, what his identity is, he [Klarian Apollo]
said that, ‘God is Aither who perceives everything:
looking towards him, you should pray at dawn as you
gaze eastward’.
Fig. 10. No. 8: Oinoanda oracle inscription, late second
to mid third century AD, showing the two inscriptions
adjacent to the doorway in the city wall (Hall 1978: pl.
11a; reproduced with the permission of W. Eck, Editor of
Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik).
Fig. 11. No. 8: Oinoanda oracle inscription, late second to
mid third century AD, showing detail of both inscriptions
(Hall 1978: pl. 12; reproduced with the permission of W.
Eck, Editor of Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik).
159
This 16-line oracular inscription (set out metrically here,
bar lines indicating line divisions on the stone) probably
emanating from Klaros stands out from all the other angel
inscriptions we are examining; its highly intellectual
content and metricality accords it a memorable individu-
ality. Unsurprisingly, it has attracted much discussion,
especially noteworthy among which are Robert 1971 (=
OMS 5.617–39, dated between the end of the second
century and the early third century) and Hall 1978 (dated
to the mid third century). The first three verses are a theo-
logical statement constituting the actual oracle, and the
second three constitute an interpretative ‘gloss’ (Jones
2005: 295) prescribing the ritual practice to be followed
(the first word in the final hexameter is infinitive with χρή
understood, or simply an imperatival infinitive). The posi-
tioning of the inscription on the city’s east wall to catch
the first rays of sunlight shows that this advice was
observed by the person(s) erecting the inscription at
Oinoanda. On the meaning of χωρῶν in the second verse,
we suggest that the sense is that the god is too ‘big’ for any
one name to encapsulate him (cf. LSJ s.v. III.1). The text
may have been included in a treatise by Porphyry of Tyre
in the later third century (de philosophia ex oraculis
haurienda; a work known to Eusebius: Praeparatio Evan-
gelica 4.7) and the first half is quoted also by Lactantius
(Divinae Institutiones 1.7) in the early fourth century. For
other ancient testimonia (particularly the relevant verses
from the so-called ‘Tübingen Theosophy’, a late fifth-
 Anatolian Studies 2016

century redaction of pagan oracles), see Merkelbach, Khromati(o)s (Jones 2005: 295, n.5) – dedicated a lamp to
Stauber 1998–2004: 4.16–19. It is no surprise, then, that Theos Hypsistos (Nilsson 1961a: 2.664, n.5; Hall 1978:
until the inscription was published, the first three verses 265; Mitchell 1999b: 90, pl. 3, 91, appendix no. 234; Cline
were all that was known to modern researchers such as 2011a: 25–26). It is to be connected with the oracle text,
Cumont (1929: 300, n.22; cf. Robert OMS 5.624–26) – the and cannot be any earlier than the setting in place of the
oracle must have had a currency well beyond the sole latter.
physical findspot at Oinoanda in Lykia. This does not
require us to infer it was a clichéd composition that was 9. IG 12.3 including 51 brief funerary angelos inscriptions;
peddled to many places. Rather, it was so memorable as a Thera; third to fifth century; further examples published
succinct Apolline response to a significant question that it subsequently bring the total to 70.
circulated among well-educated individuals. A. Busine
includes this oracle in her catalogue (2005: 447, no. 15), 9a. IG 12.3.933 (fig. 12).
and provides pertinent comment on it (especially 5–7, 35–
40, 204) in the broader context of a wide-ranging analysis ἄνγε-
of the profile of oracles in later antiquity. λος
In the Roman imperial period a stone in the city’s Ἐπι-
Hellenistic-period wall, adjacent to an original doorway 4 κτοῦς
and well above eye level, was cut back into the shape of a πρεσβύ-
bomos, but there was not enough room for the text to be τιδος.
completed on the altar’s ‘façade’; so the remainder of the
text was added on the same block of stone below the base Angelos of Epikto, Elder.
of the bomos design (Cline 2011a: 43, fig. 2.2 shows this
well). Although the oracle text is not unique to this city, 9b. IG 12.3.942.
only a well-educated person can have known it and chosen
to have it carved into the wall. The letter-cutter did not ἄνγελος
achieve the task with high-level professionalism, perhaps Ζωσίμου·
due to the very inaccessibility of the selected place. Its ἀφηρώϊσα
relatively small size and obscure position rules out any 4 Ῥουφεῖνα
suggestion that the initiator wanted to provide a counter- τὸ(ν) ἴδιον υἱόν.
weight to the dominant visual presence at Oinoanda of
Epikouros’ philosophical ideas via the extensive inscribed Angelos of Zosimos. I Rufina heroised my own son.
quotations of that philosopher. The positioning of the
inscription to catch the first rays of sunlight each day may
point to Helios as the god in view to whom prayer should
be offered, with the angeloi as other deities – including
Apollo as the giver of the oracle, who is therefore being
differentiated from Helios here – who are being merged
with God, subsumed in him. Accordingly, the text has been
regarded as a distinctive pointer to the growth of monothe-
istic ideas within paganism in later antiquity (OMS 5.630,
with references at n.1; Mitchell 1999b: 81, 86–92); and it
is perhaps the closest we get in pagan antiquity to a ‘defi-
nition’ of monotheism.
The inscription should not be understood (pace
Gallavotti 1977; cf. BE 1978: no. 464) as a religious
manifesto by members of a local private association who
identify themselves as angeloi of God. Although no
Klarian Apolline context is made explicit, the subject of
ἔννεπεν is simply inferred in the translation above.
An ex voto, also carved by cutting back another,
smaller stone in the city wall to produce a bomos façade Fig. 12. No. 9a: epitaph from Thera, third or fourth
(fig. 11; Cline 2011a: 44, fig. 2.3) slightly below the verse century AD (Feissel 1977: fig. 2; reproduced with the
inscription, records that a certain Khromatis – or permission of Denis Feissel).

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 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
In Adolf Deissmann’s Handexemplar of the fourth edition
of Licht vom Osten (LvO/LAE 1923) he copied out the
following in the margin at p.239 as an annotation on what
he had stated there in the text (239–40) and at n.5 (cf. his
fig. 51), expressing his uncertainty as to the Christian
identity of the angeloi epitaphs of Thera.
F. Frhr Hiller v. Gaertringen (Postkarte, Westend,
9.3.23): [P.] Wolters glaubte einmal bei den Angeloi
von Thera ein Christusmonogramm zu sehen; ich hielte
es für Täuschung. Aber ich habe Harnacks Zweifel an
der Christlichkeit nie geteilt und dies in Thera III
deutlich gesagt. Eine Judengemeinde dort oben ist
doch völlig ausgeschlossen.
Hiller’s (1864–1947) allusion to Adolf von Harnack’s
(1851–1930) doubts about the Christian nature of the
Theran epitaphs appears to be to the third edition of the
latter’s Die Mission und Ausbreitung des Christentums
(1915: 2.235–36; cf. 1924: 2.785–86, with Nachträge,
p.1000), in view of Deissmann’s reference to it in his own
book’s sentence immediately prior to the mention of Thera.
The complete absence of any Jewish symbols on any of
these monuments is a weighty reason to reject Harnack’s
speculation (Kiourtzian 2000: 277 with 275 n.66). Prior to
Harnack, H. Achelis (1900: 93) had already dismissed a
possible Jewish link with the texts; and further, he notes
(91) that, as much as two decades before Hiller had
published IG 12.3, those angelos inscriptions from Thera
already published had elicited the opinion from more than
one scholar that these texts were Christian. Hiller’s firm
restatement of these epitaphs’ Christian affiliation should
be accorded considerable weight in view of his having
edited the Thera inscriptions in IG 12.3 (1898, with supple-
ment 1904) and published with others several volumes
(1899–1909) about the archaeological finds from the island.
He knew the material better than anyone else, and only
Henri Grégoire (1922) has refined some of the readings,
dates (for example 1922: no. 166) and interpretation (for
example 1922: no. 187) in any substantial manner. In a brief
essay a generation ago, D. Feissel (1977: 209–14) has also
made a contribution of value, in which he, too, reaffirms
the Christian affiliation of the Thera grave monuments.
H. von Dragendorff edited Thera 2 (1903), devoted to
the tombs on the island, and discusses briefly a number of
the funerary inscriptions which Hiller had already
published in IG 12.3. The angelos funerary monuments
were found in more than one location (including two on
the small island of Therasia nearby), though the main one
was at Sellada (Hiller 1899: 182, also 281, 283; von
Dragendorff 1903: 68–69, 288–89). Although he differs
on certain specifics from Hiller, overall von Dragendorff
is in agreement with him as to the Christian adherence of
161
those being memorialised. Both men regarded the angelos
epitaphs as reflecting a mixture of Greek and eastern-
Jewish notions, singling out as Jewish the idea of an angel
keeping watch over the resting place of the dead (Hiller
1899: 181, n.241; von Dragendorff 1903: 289). We can see
here a prefiguring of Sheppard’s thesis (1979; 1980/1981)
though it is not worked out in any broader detail or with
wider application as he did 80 years later.
Almost exactly a century since the fundamental
German excavations on Thera and rapid publication of the
results, G. Kiourtzian (2000: appendix, 247–82; cf. SEG
50.746) re-presented the known Theran angel funerary
monuments, whose number has subsequently risen to 70.
(The three unpublished instances, noted by him at 247, n.1,
are inferred to have been published among the several now
known since his volume appeared.) Other inscriptions
from this island are included immediately before this series
(Kiourtzian 2000: nos 142a–g, 143–45; SEG 50.744). It is
especially valuable that he includes a photo for every stone
which could be relocated. His focus is primarily art-histor-
ical, as the arrangement of the monuments according to
shape and relief features indicates (2000: 247). This should
be borne in mind when consideration is given to the date
of individual items (cf. 2000: 274, at the beginning of his
section on the chronology). He rightly rejects Harnack’s
suggestion that these texts point to a Jewish community
on the island, but too quickly sets aside an orthodox or
crypto-Christian context for them. Instead, on too slight
evidence, he proposes (278–82) a heterodox community
whose outlook, influenced by Gnosticism, may have given
rise to the series of epitaphs. It is a feature of his discussion
that he seeks to minimise, without outright rejection, the
likelihood of these texts emanating from a Christian group
marked by orthodox beliefs. For some of the most
contested inscriptions (and their decoration) Kiourtzian is
very cautious, not absolutely ruling out their Christian
connection, but seemingly reluctant to allow that they are
straightforwardly Christian. Instances of this occur at his
nos 6 (with comment on pp. 272–73; see further below),
20 (our 9b), 41 and 43 (easily the longest commentary he
provides on any of these epitaphs; our 9a). In his comment
on no. 45 (= Feissel 1977: 209) he seems reluctant to
express open disagreement with Feissel. In our view, he
gives too little weight to the cumulative evidence of these
angeloi epitaphs as a unified group. Two contributions
since Kiourtzian (Dresken-Weiland 2007; Cline 2011a:
78–99) provide little of independent substance.
A minor suggestion is offered here: Grégoire 1922: no.
176 (= IG 12.3.946; Kiourtzian 2000: no. 53; noted by
Leclercq 1907: col. 2142) is an epitaph with angelos
followed by two female names in the genitive, joined by καί.
The only instance in the Theran series to record two named
people on the same epitaph is the rather differently worded
 Anatolian Studies 2016
and relatively much lengthier Grégoire 1922: no. 166 (= IG
12.3.975). Rather than two people being memorialised, no.
176 may be for a single individual with a double name. καί
solitarium is attested occasionally in this manner for the
more usual ὁ/ἡ καί (for example Parássoglou 1978: nos
11.3–4, 12.7, 82.3–4, 86.8–10, all dating between 296–300
[cf. New Docs 3.90, no. 77]; AE 1979: 612 [Mylasa in Caria,
imperial period], an adoptive son of Aphrodeitos καί
Eirenaios; Kramer, Hagedorn 1978: 2.109.25, provenance
unknown in Egypt, fourth or fifth century, with suggestion
at New Docs 4.251–52, no. 124). This would meet the
objection of M. Guarducci (1974: 149) that, if the Thera
texts were Christian, there would be one angelos for each
deceased person. Her view presupposes that the angelos is
the soul of the dead individual, rather than being a guardian
of the grave: both these interpretations were noted by
Dragendorff (1903: 289). We shall return to this matter later,
both in the present section and in 10 below.
Like Hiller, Grégoire accepts the Christian association
of the angeloi texts on the island (1922: nos 166–205 bis;
177 vacat), and on the smaller, adjacent islet of Therasia
(nos 206–207), in the total of 51 (sic) inscriptions (all
brief) which he includes. The breakdown of these 51 is as
follows in Grégoire 1922 (their equivalents can be traced
in IG 12.3 and Kiourtzian 2000):
angelos + personal name (31): 168, 168 bis, 168 ter,
169, 169 bis, 170, 170 bis, 171, 173–75, 178–85,
185 bis, 185 ter, 186–88, 192–97, 206;
angelos alone (13): 166 ter, 189–91, 198–205, 207;
name alone (2): 166 quarter, 205 bis;
other wording (5): 166, 166 bis, 167, 172, 176.
(Two texts in Hiller’s IG 12.3 Supplementum 1904, noted
at Grégoire 1922: iv, are actually included by the latter as
his nos 185 bis and 185 ter.)
To these we may add the following:
other wording: Feissel 1977: 209, fig. 1 on p.211; cf.
SEG 27.506 = Kiourtzian 2000: no. 45;
angelos + personal name: Doumas 1963: 285, three
further items, all with angelos, one also preserving
a personal name, and two broken away where the
name might be expected (= Kiourtzian 2000: nos
25, 11, 42, respectively). Two coins (Caracalla and
Maximinus) were found with these epitaphs,
yielding a terminus post quem for dating the tomb
of at least the first half of the third century. Eight
previously unpublished inscribed stones with this
formula are included by Kiourtzian (2000: nos 5,
12, 17, 22, 24, 26, 44, 47).
These additional 12 items added to Grégoire’s tally of
51 should yield a total of 63 (excluding the three which
remain unpublished). However, Kiourtzian chose not to
include Grégoire 1922: nos 166, 166 quarter and 205 bis
(= IG 12.3.975, 1385, 976, respectively) in his catalogue
162
of 60 monuments, since his criterion for inclusion is the
presence of the word ἄγγελος. The last two of this trio lack
that word, while no. 166 requests Μιχαὴλ ἀρχάνγελε to
help a family. Yet these exclusions seem somewhat incon-
sistent with his art-historical focus on monument shapes
and features of the reliefs. We may note in passing that
Grégoire (fifth century) differs quite markedly from Hiller
(end of the third century) in dating the Michael inscription.
Subsequent to the appearance of Kiourtzian’s volume
(2000), the following seven further inscriptions of this type
have been published; and we assume that the three unpub-
lished ones of which he was aware are amongst these:
angelos + personal name: SEG 49.1097, 1098, 1099
(name fragmentary), 53.839, 837 (apparently with
space for a name now lost), 838 (ditto, but genitive
ἀγγέλου);
angelos alone: SEG 49.1100 (ἀγγέλου).
In total, then, we now have 70 angelos epitaphs,
including the three which Kiourtzian chose to exclude.
Grégoire’s introductory comments on the Theran series
(1922: 56–57) are concise, judicious and authoritative; for
him, they are Christian, and the vast majority date to the
fourth century (with some probably of fifth-century date),
although he does not exclude the end of the third century
for a small number. Much more recently, Kiourtzian (2000:
274) has proposed the third century for the majority of
these epitaphs but allows the end of the second and the
beginning of the fourth (i.e. pre-Constantinian) as the
extreme limits for a few; Cline likewise (2011a: 87–88),
though his argument against Grégoire is not strong. We
will address the date below as part of our discussion of no.
10, and simply foreshadow here our proposal that
Grégoire’s view may need to be refined: that enough
belong to the first half of the third century for the formula
to have been perceived as a local ‘type’ or fashion to be
imitated, plenty belong to the fourth century and possibly
some are as late as the fifth century.
Grégoire comments persuasively on the two inscrip-
tions printed above. The spare form of 9a (Grégoire 1922:
no. 167; Kiourtzian 2000: no. 43; our fig. 12) is just the
same as most of the Thera group: ἄνγελος + name of the
deceased in the genitive. Here, however, Epikto is identi-
fied as a presbytis. By the mid fourth century at the
Council of Laodikeia this was accepted as a title for a
female order in the Church (decree no. 11); the sparse
wording makes it inapposite to identify the woman as
simply ‘elderly’, and thus the text is confirmed as deci-
sively Christian (so, Leclercq 1907: col. 2142; Cumont
1915: 180, n.4; Feissel 1977: 212) and fourth century. In
contrast, Kiourtzian concludes that, since the word
presbytis was used by others and not by Christians alone,
a Christian affiliation of this epitaph cannot be assumed.
This is not an effective way to settle the point. It is true
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
that both this term and the similar presbytera occur
epigraphically of Jewish women: πρεσβύτ‹η›ς (Noy 1995:
24, Rome, third or fourth century[?], a date more likely
than the range from the first century BC to the third
century given in Frey 1936: no. 400, followed by Brooten
1982: 45–46, ‘elder [or aged woman]’) and πρεσβυτέρα
(Noy et al. 2004: no. Cre3, Kastelli Kissamou on Crete,
fourth or fifth century; correctly regarded as a title here by
Brooten 1982: 48–55, especially 54–55). However,
Kiourtzian rightly rejects a Jewish milieu for the Theran
epitaph series, and recognises that the word means
‘elderly’ in its few other occurrences in non-Christian
Greek examples. Differing contexts help us determine
which meaning is most applicable.
Similarly, Grégoire’s commentary on 9b (1922: no.
172) improves on Hiller’s interpretation, that there were
two separate texts – a Christian addition of lines 1–2 to a
pagan epitaph which constitutes the present lines 3–5 – on
the one stone, by showing that it was one text, and that the
wording employed was not such as would be avoided by
Christians of that period.
Une chrétienne pouvait écrire, comme les païens,
ἀφηρώϊσα, car ce terme était devenu banal; d’ailleurs,
ἡρῷον a été souvent employé par les auteurs chrétiens
dans le sense de ‘tombeau’.
The verb used here is simply another way of saying that
the deceased was memorialised, and by the fourth century
has no more significance than that. The high frequency of
this verb at Thera and the nearby island of Anaphe relative
to other locations persuaded L. Robert 70 years ago to
attribute IG II2 5.10531a (on p.886) to Thera (Feissel 1977:
210, fig. 3 on p.211). That epitaph is pagan, whereas
Feissel’s reattribution to Thera of an angelos text with the
same verb bears out Grégoire’s comment. Dragendorff,
the editor of Thera 2, had already disagreed with Hiller
over the interpretation of 9b (1903: 290). Since 2000
several more epitaphs containing this verb have been
published, none of which include ἄνγελος like 9b: SEG
49.1095, 1096 (both late second or early third century),
53.835, 836 (both third century). None of these are held to
be Christian, so they underscore the crossover between
pagan and Christian wording visible in 9b.
The question remains: what is the angel mentioned on
these epitaphs? J.H. Moulton (1867–1917), who possessed
particular expertise in Zoroastrianism as well as post-
Classical Greek, regarded the angelos on the Thera
monuments as the soul of the deceased who represented
the person in heaven (Moulton 1902; cf. Ricklefs 2002:
62–70 on angel as ‘soul’). A possible instance of this is
considered below (no. 10). Moulton suggests that this
notion may have come into Christian thinking via Zoroas-
163
trian ideas. For him, these Theran epitaphs were Christian
but under pagan influence; and he based this claim on the
contrast with the Melos inscription, no. 9e below (Moulton
1902). This seems to us to be quite doubtful, if only
because of the so-localised idiosyncrasy of this funerary
formula attested in considerable numbers on one small
island. Were such an intellectual debt a real possibility for
us to envisage, any awareness of Zoroastrianism must have
been lost long before, and the phraseology assimilated to
a broadly comprehensible Greek context. For the same
reason, the hypothesis of Kiourtzian (2000: 278–82) is
over-speculative in inferring too much intellectual
knowledge from a very sparse evidential basis in the
wording of these laconic epitaphs, that the Theran epitaphs
are reflective of a Gnostic influence on the inhabitants.
Feissel’s discussion (1977: especially 214) is persuasive
in reinforcing the longer-standing view of the protective
role of the angelos in relation to the tomb and the person
buried there. The Christian epitaph from Melos (no. 9e)
records the burial in one catacomb of seven people; so the
single angel mentioned in that text cannot be considered
the soul of the collective deceased (cf. Achelis 1900: 92).
Cline’s unsatisfactory proposal (2011a: 77) tries to have it
both ways, that these angeloi are both ‘the deceased them-
selves as well as protectors of the grave’.
In contrast to all the views noted above, over many
years Guarducci has swum against the current in holding
that the angel epitaphs from Thera are pagan, or at least
draw into the wording a pagan funerary angelos
(Guarducci 1939, criticised with concise severity by
Robert and Robert in BE 1939: no. 106; 1974; 1978: 370).
She has not been alone in her views: for example Dibelius,
writing soon after his Doktorvater Adolf Deissmann had
expressed his doubts about the Christian affiliation of these
texts in LvO (1906), saw these epitaphs as firmly pagan
(1909: 209–21, especially 215, where he singles out our
9a and 9b, among others). Nilsson (1961a: 2.540–41, n.7)
regarded it still as an open question whether the ‘angel of
X’ formula was pagan or Christian. The most forthright
expression of Guarducci’s approach appeared 40 years ago
in Mélanges Daux, in which she gives particular focus
(1974: 150–52, 153–55) to the two epitaphs printed above
(9a and 9b, respectively). Like Dibelius, Guarducci
regards 9b as establishing the pagan milieu for all these
angelos epitaphs, even though Grégoire had already antic-
ipated her objections half a century earlier.
We cannot deal here with Guarducci’s claim (1974:
149–50) about the rosettes which occur on a number of
these funerary items from Thera, and whether they are a
local equivalent of a Christian cross in the form of a chi-
rho monogram, except to note that some others with first-
hand access to the monuments accept their Christian
character as applied in this context. One such is Dragen-
 Anatolian Studies 2016
dorff (1903) and another is P. Wolters, who contributed to
Thera 1 (Hiller 1899); with both colleagues Hiller had
already expressed his disagreement (1899: 181, n.240) a
generation before his comment in the postcard to
Deissmann, quoted above. The Heidelberg archaeologist
F. von Duhn, who saw some of the stones with these
rosettes in 1906, also accepted the presence of the design
as a Christian indicator (reported by Deissmann in LvO
1923: 239, n.5). Drawings of a few of these monuments
are included in Hiller 1899 (180; Dragendorff 1903: 68,
fig. 229 reproduces a further one of these; note also
Kiourtzian 2000: pl. 52). A clear photo was published 40
years ago, and helps to confirm for some – but not all
(Kiourtzian 2000: 250–51, no. 6; followed by Cline 2011a:
81–83) – the view of Grégoire, that this ornamentation
supports the fourth century as the date for most of the
Theran series (Grégoire 1922: 56–57; cf. Feissel 1977:
212). Kiourtzian takes a particular interest in this artistic
feature on the monuments. For example, in his discussion
of his no. 6 (= Grégoire 1922: no. 183) he is careful to say
that decoration on the stele cannot serve as a basis for a
Christian interpretation of the entire angelos series, as
previously held. This does not establish that the
monuments are therefore not Christian, of course, though
he comes close to saying this at pp. 272–73. What we may
retrospectively identify as a cross design within a circle is
one of a number of traditional aesthetic features – to call
them ‘pagan’ is misleading, since that would imply a
conscious religious intent in their use – on reliefs which
were adopted and given another symbolic meaning by
Christians, first as a cryptic signal to insiders and later as
an open expression of the faith-orientation of the deceased.
To bolster her view that the Theran angelos is an under-
world demon, Guarducci relies heavily on part of a
magical incantatory inscription from Attike. The legible
portion of this text we have printed as 9c; and another
nearly identical one is printed below as 9d, of which a little
less survives.
9c. Audollent 1904: no. 74; Attike(?); second century(?).
καταγράφω κ(αὶ) κατατ ̣[ίθω] ἀν[γ]έλ ̣[ης καταχθο]-
νίοις, Ἑρμῇ καταχ[θ]ονίῳ κ(αὶ) Ἑ[κάτῃ κατα]-
χθονίᾳ, Πλούτωνι [κα(ὶ)] Κόρῃ κ[(αὶ) Περσιφόνῃ]
4 κ(αὶ) Μο ̣ίρες καταχθον[ί]ες κ(αὶ) π ̣ά̣[ντοις τοῖς]
θ[ε]ο(ῖς) κ(αὶ) τῴ Κερ[β]έρῳ φύλακι
κ(αὶ) φρίκῃ κ(αὶ) καθ’ ἡμέ[ραν καθημερι]νῶι
[πυρετῷ]
τοῦ κα‹τά›σχοντος [κ(αὶ) οὐκ] ἀποδ[όντος·
καταγράφ]-
8 φω αὐτοὺς ἤτοι ἀν[ο]ήτο[υς εἶναι - - - ]
παρθένου ἤτοι κ(αὶ) ὁ συν[ - - - ]
[lines 10–22 very fragmentary]
164
I curse and consign (my enemy) to chthonic angeloi,
chthonic Hermes, and chthonic Hekate, Plouton and
Kore and Persephone and the chthonic Fates, and all
the gods and Kerberos the guardian, to both cold fit and
daily, day-long fever since he has held on to (my
possession) and did not give it back. I curse them (fit
and fever?) whether they are senseless … of the
maiden(?) or also the …
9d. Audollent 1904: no. 75; Attike(?); second century(?).
καταγράφω καὶ κατα-
[τί]θω ἀνγέλης κατα-
χθονίοις, Ἑρμῇ κατα-
4 χθονίῳ καὶ Ἑκάτῃ κα[τα]-
χθονίᾳ, Πλούτω-
νι κα(ὶ) Κόρῃ κ(αὶ) Περσιφόν-
{ν}ῃ καὶ Μο ̣ίρα ̣ις̣ κατα[χθονί]-
8 [α]ις καὶ πάντοις τοῖ[ς θε]-
[οῖ]ς καὶ τῷ Κερ[β]έρῳ
[ - - - φύλ]ακι [κ(αὶ) φ[ρίκ]-
[lines 11–17 quite fragmentary]
I curse and consign (my enemy) to chthonic angeloi,
chthonic Hermes, and chthonic Hekate, Plouton and
Kore and Persephone and the chthonic Fates, and all
the gods and Kerberos the guardian, to both cold fit …
These two magical curse texts (devotiones) have a ‘cousin
affinity’ with apotropaics of a kind found on papyrus, to
ward off illness. Undoubtedly, the association of angeloi
with chthonic deities (and the very use of the epithet
katakhthonios of the angeloi) shows we are in the realm
of traditional Graeco-Roman non-official, popular religion.
Apart from the gods who are named here, the language of
these texts has affinities with Christian papyrus amulets
intended to be worn to ward off fever. Septuagint Ps. 90
(Hebrew 91), in view of its mention of angeloi acting on
behalf of God to protect the faithful (vv. 11–12), is one of
the most frequently attested psalms in the papyri, used for
apotropaic effect on amulets and for other purposes (Chapa
2011, a useful discussion and listing of papyrus attestations
of this text).
R.W. Daniel and F. Maltomini (1990–1992) offer an
instructive range of papyrus examples pertinent to the
present discussion. Due above all to the different use to
which each was put – the lead curse inscriptions were
buried in the earth, whereas the papyri were worn as
amulets to protect the wearer – and possibly also to their
different period as well as different regional location, the
wording of the papyrus texts from Egypt is not even
approximately identical with those from Attike from an
earlier century. Nevertheless, angeloi are appealed to in
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
a number of them. We omit two from the following
discussion here: Daniel, Maltomini 1990: no. 29 (which
appeals to the archangelos Michael and is clearly
Christian) and 1992: no. 93 (word mostly restored).
Another four, however, are pertinent to mention, the first
possibly from the Fayum, the others of unknown prove-
nance within Egypt: Daniel, Maltomini 1990: nos 10.10,
11.9, 14.7 (these three texts are dated to the third or fourth
century) and 1992: no. 97.5, 7 (fifth or sixth century). The
first two and the last are pagan (though no. 10 may be
suggestive of some Jewish Gnostic awareness). Daniel,
Maltomini 1990: no. 14 is proposed by the editors as
pagan, though the name Johannes on the papyrus may
give us pause; perhaps this example is to be classed as
Christian, as by the fourth century bishops and others
were constantly trying to dissuade converts from magical
practice, but without great success as the many published
Christian amulets indicate (New Docs 3.114–19, espe-
cially 116, no. 93; R.J.S. Barrett-Lennard in New Docs
4.245–50, especially 247, no. 123; Kraus 2007: especially
622–23).
Dibelius’ excursus on ἄγγελος (1909: 209–21) includes
discussion of both 9d and the Theran texts; but taking his
cue from Dibelius, Barbel (1941: 15, n.55) appears to have
been the first to make the link explicit. This in turn stimu-
lated Guarducci to take up the connection (1974: 154–55).
Granted, there are pagan texts which clearly refer to divine
beings identified as angeloi; yet this does not at all
establish that the group of brief epitaphs from Thera which
include mention of angeloi are thereby pagan, as
Guarducci consistently holds.
These two curse texts (9c–d), apparently found in
Attike, undoubtedly specify chthonic angeloi in traditional
Greek terms, and associate them with other underworld
deities. The second-century date proposed for them fits
with Guarducci’s opinion of the early date of the Theran
texts (1974: 155). Yet that in no way establishes that the
Theran angeloi mentioned on funerary monuments are
thereby also to be classed as pagan. She knew Grégoire’s
work, of course, but was determined to hold to her view
enunciated 35 years earlier in 1939, despite it attracting
strong criticism from J. and L. Robert. For her, most of
the Thera texts date to the second or third century; and in
her opinion one (IG 12.3.455 = Grégoire 1922: no. 166
bis = Kiourtzian 2000: no. 41; cf. Leclercq 1907: col. 2143
with fig. 667 on col. 2144) may even belong to the end of
the first century – apparently taking her cue in this from
Hiller – and therefore cannot be Christian (Guarducci
1974: 147, 152–53). That text is carved in an unusual
superimposed manner, and reads laconically: ἄβατον
ἀνγέλου. In proposing this date, she presses Hiller’s
comment (1899: 181) further than what he actually says
and clearly implies. In writing of the more ornate and
165
mannered lettering of this inscription, he regards it as such
that ‘one would very readily like to place it already in the
first century AD’ (‘die man am liebsten schon in das I.
Jahrhundert n. Chr. setzen möchte’). The inference of
Hiller’s statement is that he does not regard such a date as
possible, since for him the angeloi epitaphs are all
Christian. From Hiller’s comment Dragendorff drew the
conclusion that the oldest of the angel epitaphs were to be
located approximately in the second century (1903: 289).
Kiourtzian (2000: 263) implies a date of the second or
third century on the basis of the lettering of this inscrip-
tion. Guarducci regards the presence of the first word,
ἄβατον, in the inscription just mentioned as another sign
of its pagan milieu. Yet Grégoire’s earlier explanation is
persuasive: ‘Le sépulcre était pour le chrétien comme pour
le païen; mais pour le chrétien il était inviolable parce qu’
un ange y habitait ou veillait sur lui’ (Grégoire 1922:
commentary on no. 166 bis). In contrast to Guarducci,
Achelis (1900: 90–91, 94) draws a different but equally
misguided inference from Hiller’s comment on this
inscription, proposing that since the latter regards the
Theran angeloi epitaphs as Christian, there was a
Christian group on the island already by the end of the
first century.
In date, in genre and in locality, the angelos epitaphs
from Thera and the Attic devotiones are ‘chalk and
cheese’; and it is drawing a very long bow indeed to claim
that the rather earlier apotropaic magical inscriptions from
Attike should determine how the entire group of funerary
monuments from Thera and of later date is to be inter-
preted. We submit that these Attic magica are irrelevant to
the Theran epitaphs.
There is another inscription to be mentioned in this
context, printed next as 9e.
9e. IG 12.3.1238; Melos; fourth century.
ἐν Κ(υρί)ῳ.
οἱ πρεσβοίτεροι οἱ πάσης μνήμης ἄξιοι Ἀσκλῆπις
καὶ Ἐλπίζων κὲ Ἀσκληπι[όδο]τ[ο]ς κὲ Ἀγαλ<λ>ίασις
4 [δ]ιάκονος καὶ Εὐτυχία παρθενεύσασα κὲ Κλαυδιανὴ
παρθενεύσασα καὶ Εὐτυχία ἡ τούτων μήτηρ
ἔνθα κεῖντε· καὶ ἐπὶ γέμι τὸ θηκίον τοῦτο,
ἐνορκίζω ὑμᾶς τὸν ὧδε ἐφεστῶτα ἄνγελον,
8 μή τίς ποτε τολμῇ ἐνθάδε τινὰ καταθέσθε.
Ἰησοῦ Χρειστὲ βοήθει τῷ γράψαντι πανοικί.
In the Lord. The presbyteroi worthy of all remem-
brance, Asklepi(o)s, Elpizon, and Asklepiodotos, and
Agalliasis diakonos, and Eutykhia who lived as a
(consecrated) virgin, and Klaudiane who lived as a
(consecrated) virgin, and Eutykhia the mother of these
people lie here. Since this tomb is full, I adjure you by
 Anatolian Studies 2016

the angelos standing over (the place) here, let no one
ever dare to deposit anyone [else] here. Jesus Christos,
help the one who wrote this, with all his family.
The modern correction of τολμῇ to τολμή<σῃ> at line 8 is
not required (Feissel 1977: 212, n.29). Dated variously
within the first half of the fourth century – ‘certainement
antérieure à la paix de l’Église’ (Leclercq 1907: col. 1244);
Grégoire (1922: 209) proposes the first half of the fourth
and implies that no earlier date is possible; Guarducci
(1974–1978: 4.368–70, no. 2) dates it to the beginning of
the fourth century, as does Kiourtzian (2000: 87–88, no.
24) – this text, painted in red on a catacomb wall, has been
much appealed to, not so much for its own sake as in
relation to the Theran angel texts. That link was first made
in 1877 (Grégoire 1922: commentary on no. 209); and
Hiller himself draws on it for that purpose (1899: 181–82)
to interpret the Theran angel epitaphs as indicative of the
tutelary role of the angelos, since the findspot of a number
of them was in front of the tomb entrance. He proposes that
the inspiration for this may go back to the Gospels and the
angel appearances either at the entrance (Matthew 28.2) or
inside (John 20.12) the now empty tomb of the resurrected
Jesus. Here the angelos is decisively Christian and,
according to Guarducci, is to be distinguished from the
Thera angeloi funerary monuments, which for her are
therefore pagan (Guarducci 1974–1978: 4.370; similarly
1974: 156–57 and 1974–1978: 3.143). The comment at
New Docs 4.240, no. 4, where the Theran texts are
described as ‘less certainly Christian’, i.e. in comparison to
the overtly Christian epitaph from Melos, gives too much
weight to Guarducci’s view. Her approach is not a sound
basis for determining the religious outlook of those who set
up the series of epitaphs on Thera. Grégoire (1922: ad no.
209) rightly says the inscription from Melos should not be
separated from the Theran epitaphs; but the former should
not be treated as the yardstick by which to determine that
the Theran monuments, by being less explicit, are therefore
not Christian, as Harnack proposes (1915: 2.195).
Trombley regards this inscription as marking an early
stage in the Christianisation of the island by the early
fourth century (1993–1994: 1.329), perhaps inferring
rather too much on the basis of this one epitaph.
The Melos epitaph is not the only inscription from
elsewhere which bears on the Theran funerary texts,
however, and particularly on their date. We proceed next
to consider two interconnected funerary monuments from
Phrygia.

10. Robert 1960: 429–35, pls 22, 23.3–4, 26.1; Eumeneia

in Phrygia; third century (fig. 13).

Αὐρ. [Ζ]ωτι[κ]ὸ[c] front face

Λυκίδαc μάρ-
τυρα τὸν
4 θεὸν δίδω
ὅτι κατεc-
κεύαcα τὸ ἡ-
ρῷον, νω-
8 θρῶc ἔχον-
τος Ἀμιανοῦ
τοῦ ἀδε‹‹λ››φοῦ
μου, ἀπὸ τῶν
12 ἐμῶν καμάτων·
καὶ ἐντέλλομε
Φρονίμη‹ν› καὶ Μά-
ξιμαν τὰς ἀδελ-
16 φάc μου τεθῆνε right face
μ‹‹ό››ναc. εἴ τιc δὲ
ἕτερον θήcει, ἔc-
τε αὐτῷ πρὸc
Fig. 13. No. 10: epitaph from Eumeneia in Phrygia, third 20 τὸν θεὸν καὶ
century AD, showing the front face of the bomos τὸν ἄνγελον
containing lines 1–15 (Sheppard 1979: pl. 21b; repro- τὸν Ῥουβῆ-
duced with the permission of A.R.R. Sheppard). δοc.

166
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
I, Aurelius Zotikos Lykidas, provide God as my
witness that I built the tomb by my own hard work, since
my brother Amianos was slack; and I give instructions
that my sisters Phronime and Maxima are the only ones
to be buried (here). But if anyone places another (body
here), he will have to reckon with God and the angelos of
Roubes.
Whereas the short epitaph held in the Epigraphical
Museum at Athens discussed by Feissel (1977: 209–14)
and mentioned above (9a) is a ‘pierre errante’ which must
have been brought to the the Athens Epigraphical Museum
from Thera, the inscribed bomos from Phrygia printed here
emanated from there, as did another linked with it and
mentioned below which does not include the Theran
angelos formulaic wording. The so-called ‘Eumeneian
formula’, included on the present bomos in the text at lines
18–20 as a warning against tampering with the grave, has
predominantly been seen as a marker of Christian
adherence (Calder 1939). Although there are occasional
Jewish and probably also pagan instances of its use (W.
Tabbernee in New Docs 3.136–39, no. 98), the occurrence
of the Eumenian formula together with the ‘angelos of
Thera’ formula on the one inscription presses us to accept
a Christian identification for this text.
Sheppard’s re-examination of the bomos (1979: 175–
76, pl. 21b; SEG 29.1400) clarifies a couple of readings.
He rightly brackets one letter in line 17, where the mason
had carved phi for omicron. Robert’s plate (1960: pl. 2) of
his squeeze shows this clearly, though he printed omicron
without comment. Sheppard’s checking of the squeeze
held at the British Institute at Ankara in 1991 has also led
him to concur with Robert’s reading of line 1 against his
own original reading of the stone (personal communication
March 2015). We have clarified the case of the first name
in the text at line 14, though the linguistic omission from
the accusative of final nu is common and not necessarily
to be regarded as an oversight by the mason.
Is this Aur. Lykidas to be identified with the homony-
mous man, son of Lykios, who buried his wife, two sons
and a daughter-in-law at Olbasa in Pisidia (Bean 1959:
100, no. 55; SEG 19.789)? That city is ca 120km due south
of Eumeneia. The name is not so rare as to press us to
accept the identification. Were a link to be considered, we
might infer that the Eumeneia burial of his apparently
unmarried sisters is the earlier of the two inscriptions, since
no members of his own family once he married are
mentioned. Perhaps he then moved to live at Olbasa,
married and had children who died as young married
adults. In contrast to the Eumeneia epitaph, no hint of
Christian adherence appears on the Olbasa tombstone, so
caution is needed whether these two epitaphs are to be
linked.
167
For the present discussion, the additional wording
‘angel of Roubes’ is our focus. Robert (1960: 432, n.2)
sees ‘un parallèle indiscutable’ with the series of Theran
epitaphs (9a–b, above) where reference to an angelos is
added with the implication that the latter’s role is a protec-
tive one for the deceased. In line with the Theran series,
then, here the angel would be the protector of the grave of
a certain Roubes, suggestive of the Jewish name Reuben:
a convert from Judaism is a neat guess (Fox 1986: 294–
95). L. Robert suggests (1960: 435) that Roubes was a
Christian of some standing (priest?, bishop?). Without
naming Roubes, Ameling accepts both these earlier
suggestions (1996: 45). Even if this must be left an open
question owing to the lack of mention of any formal title
of office, yet we should allow that he must have been influ-
ential in some way, at least as far as Lykidas personally
was concerned. Since the name is the sole identifier, we
may infer little more than that the Roubes who had prede-
ceased Lykidas was sufficiently well known to the local
community, and consequently that he had died within
living memory. Lykidas may be inferred to have placed his
sisters’ tomb in close proximity to Roubes’ in order that
the latter’s angelos would also protect his sisters.
Most of these inferences receive confirmation from
another funerary inscription, the majority of which is in
verse. L. Robert and Sheppard both discuss this epitaph
usefully as well (Robert 1960: 415–29; Sheppard 1979:
176–80, fig. 22a, c). In that text, Gaius, a well-educated
lawyer (pragmatikos) who could write poetry in more than
one metre, provides during his lifetime a tomb for himself,
to be shared with his wife, with his already deceased
children and σὺν Ῥούβῃ μεγάλοιο | θ(εο)ῦ ̣ θεράποντι
(‘with Roubes, servant of the great God’; front face, lines
13–14). This text is clearly Christian, especially in view
of the nomen sacrum in line 14, and lines 47–49 which
mention resurrection.
Both these gravestones were found in modern times
about 2km apart at/near to the same village of Aidan
(Ramsay 1897: 504, n.2) about 8km west of Eumeneia,
judging from Ramsay’s fold-out map between pages 478
and 480. Since the name Roubes is very uncommon, yet
turns up twice in approximately the same location on two
separate inscribed monuments of closely similar date, one
of which is incontrovertibly Christian, Lykidas and his
family must also have been Christians in view of their
decision to seek the protection of the angelos of Roubes
for their tomb. A long way from the island of Thera, then,
in inland Asia Minor we have an instance of an angelos as
a divine guardian/guarantor of a person’s tomb and of the
deceased’s protection from disturbance. The Lykidas
epitaph rules out the notion of the angelos as the ‘soul’ of
the deceased, since Roubes was buried elsewhere (though
apparently nearby). This function on the Lykidas inscrip-
 Anatolian Studies 2016
tion from Phrygia and on the Melos text (9e, above) is to
be inferred for the Theran epitaphs as well (Feissel 1977:
214).
The Theran wording is quite distinctive. Even granting
an approximately similar period when these monuments
were being erected, the geographical distance between the
Cycladic island and the Anatolian plateau, with no
parallels attested in the regions in between, makes it temer-
arious to posit influence from one to the other – unless this
epitaph were a ‘one-off’ instance in Phrygia, allowing the
inference that Roubes (or someone else) had come from
Thera to Phrygia and brought its funerary model with him,
of which Lykidas was aware and drew upon in devising
the wording of his own family’s grave. This seems to us
to be a preferable inference to proposing that a quite inde-
pendent, but closely analogous, development locally may
be occurring. If influence from Thera is a possibility which
merits consideration, then – since the Lykidas inscription
is Christian by association with Gaius’ explicitly Christian
funerary epigram in view of Roubes being mentioned in
both – we also have confirmation of the Christian affilia-
tion of the Theran grave formula. It is not simply too
guarded, but actually incorrect, in our view, to assert that
the Lykidas epitaph is ‘clearly a product of later Roman
religious syncretism’ (Cline 2011a: 101).
However, the interpretative link with the Theran
epitaphs is not quite straightforward. Gaius’ inscription
refers to the inclusion of Roubes in the tomb which he
(Gaius) has provided, yet makes no mention of an angelos;
in contrast, Lykidas’ epitaph does add such a reference
even though Roubes was already buried elsewhere nearby.
The formula on a tombstone where the deceased Roubes
is not buried suggests a confused misapplication of the
wording that the angel of the deceased will watch over the
latter’s tomb. This confusion may be due in part to the fact
that Lykidas’s epitaph marks a family grave, whereas the
Theran monuments are in every case for a single individual
(including Grégoire 1922 no. 176, as we have proposed
above in 9). Rather than a multitude of independently
divine beings each with a protective role for the dead and
the grave, here we may not be far from the idea of the
angelos as the soul of the deceased, as Moulton suggests
(noted above in our discussion of 9) – though, as
mentioned there, a connection with Zoroastrian ideas may
have been rather remote from anyone’s thinking during the
century and more when these gravestones were being set
up, and given their simple wording. This does not require
that meaning to be read back on to the Theran epitaphs:
what we may be seeing could be a development of the idea,
unless it simply reflects a confused understanding of it.
This development is explained by Grégoire (1929–1930)
in the occurrence of the phrase in early Byzantine epis-
tolography (late fifth or sixth century), where ὁ ἄγγελός
168
σου is simply a polite way of saying ‘you’ to a superior:
i.e. simply referring to that individual. The Phrygian
epitaph, then, could be an early foreshadowing of this later
development, not an example of it. Very tentatively, we
might think in terms of the wording on the inscription
suggesting something like ‘the respected Roubes’. We do
not think the evidence is clear enough to press this view,
but raise it for others’ consideration.
In consequence of there being a connection, apparently,
between the Theran angelos epitaphs and the ‘angel of
Roubes’ phrase on the Eumeneian gravestone, there are
implications for the date of the Theran epitaph series;
Feissel is allusively aware of the chronological problem
(1977: 214).
A. The Theran angeloi gravestone series has generally
been held until the last 15 or so years to belong mainly
to the fourth century, with an allowance that some
perhaps were set up in the late third and others in the
fifth century (though no particular ones have usually
been specified as earlier or later). Guarducci is an
adamant exception to this dating, holding out for a
substantially earlier period for the series. Kiourtzian
(2000), as the most recent significant discussant, holds
for the majority belonging to the third century, i.e.
between Guarducci and the longer-standing view.
B. Lykidas’ nomen Aurelius implies a date after AD 212
for the inscription reprinted above, a gentilicium which
had a vogue for much of the third century, but espe-
cially in the first half of that century.
C. If the third century is accepted to be the date of
Lykidas’ tombstone (so Robert and Sheppard), then
Roubes’ death and burial nearby in Gaius’ family tomb
must be prior to that, though probably not by much.
Robert accepts Ramsay’s date (first half of the third
century) for Gaius’ inscription.
D. If Roubes (or someone else) brought his knowledge of
the locally idiosyncratic Theran grave formula with
him to Phrygia, and had already been buried there in
the first half of the third century, the Theran epitaph
series must already have had sufficient impact in the
earlier part of that century – even, possibly, in the late
second century(?) – for someone leaving the island to
decide to apply that formula elsewhere, or at least
being sufficiently influential in persuading someone
else in Phrygia to adopt it. A date as early as this does
not require us to reject a Christian adherence for them
or to conclude that the angelos terminology on these
epitaphs must therefore be pagan. We have already
noted that the Christian affiliation of Gaius’ epigram
implies Lykidas’ tomb is a Christian one too, and that
this in turn implies the ‘angel of X’ formula on Thera
is also Christian. The existence elsewhere of other
inscriptions of this period or earlier mentioning angeloi
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence

which are clearly pagan may have meant that Christian
invention or application of the terminology idiosyn-
cratically in a funerary context went unremarked.
E. Since the nomen Aurelius wanes markedly as an
onomastic fashion by the early fourth century, the
Theran epitaph series must have reached its zenith well
before this, i.e. in the third century. Moreover, in view
of the total absence of any Aurelii on the Theran angel
epitaphs, we may even be pressed towards early in the
third century (prior to AD 212) or late second century
for their date in broad terms.
F. Whoever brought knowledge of the angelos funerary
formula from Thera to Eumeneia presumably did so
because he knew it to be a locally distinctive, yet
cryptic, Christian marker. Since the Eumeneia epitaph
is of third-century date and can be shown to be
Christian, particularly by its link with the tomb
prepared by Gaius nearby, the date of a sufficient
number of the Theran epitaphs has to be brought back
to the late second or early third century in order for the
adoption of the wording elsewhere to have registered
with someone as worth including. With due caution,
then, we appear to have evidence for a Christian
presence on that island which, while not as early as
Achelis supposes (1900: 90–91, 94; already noted in
our discussion of 9 above), is earlier than has hitherto
been considered credible.
Each of these propositions separately is open to the
counter of ‘individual exception’ (for example some Aurelii
are attested in the fourth century). But, when they are taken
together and cumulatively, we suggest that a reconsidera-
tion of the date of the Theran angel epitaphs may have to
be entertained: that the bulk of them belong to the third
century and earlier rather than later in that century. Such an
earlier date has been suggested recently (for example
Kiourtzian 2000: 274; Cline 2011a: 78) – and an even
earlier one by Guarducci prior to that (as already mentioned
above) – but on grounds which do not strike us as cogent.
Ours is a result we had not anticipated, and needs to be
scrutinised by others; for we are cautious about going
against the combined sound judgement of Hiller, Grégoire
and Feissel. Even were the majority of the surviving
epitaphs able to be shown to belong certainly to the late
third and fourth centuries, those survivors are hardly likely
to be all there once were. Accordingly, it may be necessary
to acknowledge a greater fluidity in the dating.

11. Ramsay 1919: 2–5; Antioch near Pisidia; AD 340–380; re-edited by C.P. Jones (1982), who dates the text more
broadly to the ‘fourth or perhaps fifth century’; SEG 32.1302.

Γ. Καλπ(ούρνιον) Κολλῆγαν Μακεδόνα βουλευτήν, ἄνδρα ἀξιολο[γώτατον],

ὃϲ ἐγένετο ἐν πάϲῃ ἀρετῇ, ὥϲ φηϲιν ὁ ἀρχαῖ[οϲ ̣ λόγοϲ?],
ῥήτορα ἐν τοῖϲ δέκα Ἀθηναίων πρώτοιϲ κλ[ηθέντα?],
4 φιλόϲοφον τὰ Πλάτωνοϲ καὶ Ϲωκράτουϲ ἐπα[ινέϲαντα?],
ἀρχίατρον ἐν λόγοιϲ καὶ ἔργοιϲ τὰ Ἱπποκράτουϲ το[λυπεύϲαντα?],
γενόμενον ἐν ἀνθρώποιϲ ἔτη τριάκοντα καὶ ἡμ[έραϲ - - - ],
θεοῦ προνοίᾳ καὶ ἱερῶν ἀνγέλων ϲυνοδίᾳ με[ταϲτάντα?]
8 εἰϲ [ο]ὐρανὸν ἐξ ἀνθρώπων, θᾶττον ἢ ἔδει τοὺϲ γ[ονέαϲ]
καταλιπόντα, τὸν π ̣[ή]λ ̣ινο[ν]
̣ χιτῶνα ἐνταῦθ’– οἴ–περι[ελόμενον?],
καταϲκευάϲαϲ τὸ ἡρῷον τῷ γλυκυτάτῳ καὶ πο[θινοτάτῳ]
καὶ [θεοφιλεϲτάτῳ τέκνῳ?] Γ. Καλπούρνιοϲ Μ[ακεδών].

C. Calpurnius Makedon, having furnished the tomb for his sweetest, most deeply-missed and [most divinely-beloved
son?], (honoured) C. Calpurnius Collega Makedon, city councillor, a most notable man, who ‘was born with every
virtue’, as the old [adage?] says, [who was spoken of?] as an orator in the company of the ‘first ten’ orators of Athens,
as a philosopher [who praised?] the achievements of Plato and Sokrates, (and) as a public doctor [who emulated?]
the work of Hippokrates in what he said and in what he did; after living among people for thirty years and [?] days,
he [transferred?] from the presence of people to the sky by a god’s providence and with the holy angeloi as his
companions, leaving behind his [parents] sooner than he should have, [casting off?] his ‘tunic of clay’ here – alas!

Notes on the restorations as reflected in our translation
Both Ramsay (1919) and Jones (1982) have made cautious
proposals about possible restorations, and do not always
include these in the text they printed. We have offered an
opinion on them by including in our text above, with a ‘?’,
what seems to us to have most merit in their suggestions,
and listing these briefly here without mention of other
possibilities raised by them. Relevant to our consideration
is the number of letters surviving per line, which varies
from 35 to 41 (except the short final line), and the number
of letters restored, which varies between five and ten
(Ramsay considered nine or ten were lost from each line),

169
 Anatolian Studies 2016
again excepting the final line. Ramsay notes no ligatures,
and apparently only one word is abbreviated (lines 1 and
11). No main verb occurs in the wording, but one such as
ἐτίμησεν is easily understood in such a context.
1. considered then rejected by Ramsay, but rightly
accepted by Jones;
2. Jones;
3. considered and doubtfully rejected by Jones, but see
our translation, and comment below;
4. Jones;
5. τολυπεύω, not frequently attested, is suggested by us
in its figurative sense (as in LSJ s.v., II.1, which cites
one inscription), since no alteration to Ramsay’s
reading of the last visible letters on the line is involved;
6. the amount of space at line end cannot be determined,
as either letters for numerals or the number spelled out
as a word may have been carved;
7. Jones;
8. Jones;
9. Jones; as a suggestion, we have also altered Ramsay’s
ἐνταυθοῖ (accepted by Jones) to include an interjection
in view of the high style of the inscription;
10. Ramsay;
11. both restorations are Ramsay’s.
Ramsay (1919) was the first to publish this epitaph, found
in the territory of Antioch, and connects it (as does Jones
1982: 269–71) with a better-preserved, slightly later
funerary epigram of six verses, largely hexameters, carved
in 12 lines on the stone – already published as Sterrett 1888:
180 no. 182, but improved by him, whence Calder,
Cormack 1962: 71, no. 404 with drawing on p.174; SEG
32.1303 – for a son of the man memorialised in the epitaph
printed above. That epigram was reworked by W. Peek
(1988: no. 692), apparently without awareness of Ramsay’s
edition (1919: 5–9); it is not our focus here. Ramsay is of
the view that the wording of the text given above (for which
no photo or squeeze is known to have been made) indicates
a Christian affiliation for the family. In contrast, Jones
(1982: 267; cf. SEG 32.1302) feels that, while the religious
orientation of the family can not be determined decisively,
on the balance of probabilities the two inscriptions are more
likely to be reflective of a well-educated and cultivated
family familiar with Neoplatonism, since there is nothing
which is distinctively Christian as might be expected in texts
of about the mid to later fourth century (the date suggested
for these inscriptions by Ramsay 1919: 2, cf. 8; second half
of the fourth century, Trombley 1993–1994: 1.173).
We take the restored passive participle at the end of
line 3 to be followed by three complements referring to the
deceased. These nouns begin each of lines 3–5, and are
surely placed at the start of each line to draw attention to
170
Makedon’s polymathic achievements, a combination not
unexampled in the Second Sophistic (Jones 1982: 265–
66). If the first position in these lines is accepted as
intended by the commissioner of the epitaph, this permits
the inference of slightly different line lengths, as is
confirmed by each line beginning with a new word.
Lines 7–8 of the text printed above may call to mind
the funerary relief for Vibia at Rome, who was brought by
the bonus angelus to the heavenly banquet (Leclercq 1907:
col. 2137, fig. 355; Cumont 1929: 61, fig. 3). Approxi-
mating closely to the wording found in line 7 of the text
printed above, theia pronoia occurs in both pagan (Stoic)
and Christian contexts in the fourth century (New Docs
3.143–44, no. 100; 4.61, no.16; 5.145), as well as in some
other contexts (such as honorific inscriptions) from earlier
centuries. It is an inconclusive criterion to distinguish
religious affiliation. The figurative allusion to angeloi in
the following wording in line 7 looks tantalisingly
Christian, but Jones cautions against this. While a
Christian association for this family is not absolutely ruled
out, we concur with the perspective of both Jones and
Trombley (1993–1994: 1.174) that the family was less
likely to have been Christian, given the increasingly overt
expressions of faith on Christian epitaphs by this period,
and therefore that we may well have here another instance
of pagan angeloi.
In line 9 ἐνταυθοῖ ought to mean ‘to this place, hither’,
but that sense (the only one offered in LSJ) does not suit
the context. Unless it is to be taken with both Ramsay and
Jones as equivalent to ἐνταῦθα, a suggestion may be to read
ἐνταῦθ’ οἴ, reflecting the father’s cri de coeur: ‘here (in this
world), alas!’. This interjection occurs mainly in Classical-
period verse texts, but is known to the second-century AD
grammarian Apollonios Dyskolos (see LSJ s.v.).
Whereas the inscription above was located at Yalvaç,
the modern town located adjacent to Antioch, the verse text
– discussed usefully by Jones, building on from Ramsay’s
treatment – was found at Örkenez, in the territory ca 17km
southwest of the ancient city. Ramsay (1919: 7) infers that
the family mausoleum was located between these two
findspots, i.e. in the territory of the city.
12. Herrmann 1998: 943, pls 47.287, 50.304; Miletos in
Ionia; fourth or fifth century(?) (figs 14–16).
Misleadingly sometimes called the ‘planetary’ inscrip-
tion because of its strange symbols which are not in fact
related to the planets, this most intriguing and enigmatic
of all the inscriptions in our group was known since the
later 17th century (Boeckh 1843: 2.2895, with a lengthy
commentary) and was rediscovered in 1906 in situ, on the
northwestern corner of a building which was formerly a
theatre at Miletos, by Theodor Wiegand and others exca-
vating the site. Interest has been focused on its content (not
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
Fig. 14. No. 12: civic apotropaic inscription from Miletos,
late fourth or fifth century AD(?) (I.Milet 2.943); text shown
in situ on exterior wall of theatre remodelled in the seventh
century AD as a defensive building (Herrmann 1998: pl.
47; reproduced with the permission of the publisher).
least because of its mention of archangels) and purpose.
The long-accepted opinion, that it is pagan or perhaps
pagan with Jewish influences – proposed anew by
Sheppard (‘Judaism may be the intermediate source for the
Milesian cult of angels’: 1980/1981: 82) – was challenged
by Deissmann (LvO 1923: 393–99, appendix 9, fig. 83),
who was shown the stone by Wiegand in 1906 and argued
that it is probably Christian. A. Boeckh had dismissed the
possibility of its being Christian, and his final observation
on the text, a passing comment – ‘in ambiguo reliquam’ –
on whether it had any relevance to Colossians 2.18 in the
New Testament is prophetically astute given the dating to
the early Byzantine period (late fourth or fifth century), on
which Wiegand and Deissmann concurred but for different
reasons (LvO 1923: 393), and as the lettering style on the
stone supports. This date is partly dependent on
Deissmann’s argument that Kenyon 1893: no. 124 (fourth
or fifth century; discussed below) provides the clues to the
meaning of the symbolism in the Miletos inscription. It is
171
his interpretation of this text which has largely been
accepted by specialists in Christian epigraphy. Not that
New Testament specialists have ignored it, despite the late
date (for example Arnold 1995: 83–85). The possibility
that the inscription is Jewish is rejected by Ameling (2004:
no.168).
The inscription (which has damage to its right side)
needs to be described in detail; what follows is adapted
from Deissmann (LvO 1923: 394–95) so that his
comments, evaluated later, can be understood. The text is
carved on a single stone, 105cm (w) × 59.5cm (h), with a
margin on all sides (the bottom one is nearly one-third of
the entire height of the block); the larger and the smaller
lettering averages 2.25cm and 1.4cm, respectively. The
block is built into the outer wall of the former theatre,
reused as a defensive citadel (‘Kastell’: Deissmann) in
very late antiquity. As with many public inscriptions, the
lettering is too small to be readable in situ from a distance:
the function of the text was symbolic.
Above the top line of text are carved five (originally
seven) symbols spaced out across the stone. Their signifi-
cance has been debated, but, though they do not specially
concern us here, they are accorded brief comment below.
Deissmann’s view, that they represent the seven
archangels, has largely been accepted (so Herrmann’s
bracketed explanatory comment preceding the Greek text).
Below the symbols, across the face of the stone are 37
large letters in a single line, with possibly up to 14 others
now lost on the right.
ΙεΟΥΑΗωΙΑωΑΙεΟΥΑΗωΙωΑεΗΟΥΙΑωΙΗεΟΥεΝΟΝ̣[---]
Below these letters are five and most of a sixth of an
original seven oval shapes. Each oval is placed exactly
below one of the symbols at the top of the inscription.
Within each oval are carved seven vowels, whose initial
letter in each oval becomes the last letter in the next oval
to the right:
αεηιουω, εηιουωα, ηιουωαε, ιουωαεη, ουωαεηι, [υωαεηιο, ωαεηιου]
Permutations of vowels in magical texts are quite
common (for example Daniel, Maltomini 1990–1992: no.
1.3, third century, 41, third or fourth century; Henrichs
1974: 4.487, fourth century, part of the so-called ‘Mithras
liturgy’). We can restore υωαεηιο and ωαεηιου as the lost
lettering in the two ovals on the right. Under the vowels
within each oval occur the following identical words,
though their line-by-line layout varies (ovals 1, 2 and 6
each have nine lines of text, ovals 3–5 have eight):
Ἅγιε, φύλαξον τὴν πόλιν Μιληϲίων καὶ πάνταϲ τοὺϲ κατοικουῦνταϲ.
Holy One, guard the city of the Milesians and all its inhabitants.
 Anatolian Studies 2016

Fig. 15. No. 12: civic apotropaic inscription from Miletos, late fourth or fifth century AD(?) (I.Milet 2.943); text on
exterior wall of theatre remodelled in the seventh century AD as a defensive building (Herrmann 1998: pl. 50; reproduced
with the permission of the publisher).

Fig. 16. No. 12: civic apotropaic inscription from Miletos, late fourth or fifth century AD(?); text on exterior wall of
theatre remodelled as defensive building (Boeckh 1843: drawing on p.568, transcription not completely accurate).

Across the bottom, below the seven ovals, is inscribed in
larger letters:
Ἀρχάγγελοι. φυλάϲϲεται ἡ πόλιϲ Μιληϲίων καὶ πάντεϲ οἱ κατ[οικοῦντεϲ.]
Archangels! The city of the Milesians is guarded and (so are) all its inhabitants.
The restoration at the end of this concluding line goes
back to Boeckh (1843). Forty-eight letters survive and,
estimating by the number of letters occurring on this line
below each oval plus space between the latter, there is
room for eight to ten letters. We should not assume any
more is lost. Deissmann proposes (LvO 1923: 395 n.4)
that the form φυλάσσεται in this line is to be read as the
active plural imperative φυλάσσετε; and Herrmann’s
(1998) commentary accepts this. That would be quite
possible linguistically, but does not allow for the adjacent
singular subject, which determines the number of the verb
over the following ‘add-on’ plural subject. Deissmann’s
suggestion that the nominative polis is a common error in
non-official texts – ‘… die Inschrift vulgär und nicht
offiziell ist’ (1923: 395, n.4) – is not the obvious interpre-
tation of the inscription. Further, he would have to allow
that the following words are also nominative for accusa-
tive. Hence, his rendering of the line as a prayer (‘Gebiet’):
‘Erzengel, behütet die Stadt der Milesier und alle, die sie
be[wohnen]!’. This is unnecessary since the text’s

172
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
grammar can be understood quite satisfactorily without
appeal to these implied changes. Contrast φυλάξαται +
accusative in Daniel, Maltomini 1990: vol. 1 no. 10.7
(Fayum?, third or fourth century), where the verb must be
read as aorist imperative φυλάξατε. We shall return to this
question later.
Further, Deissmann considers this inscription to be
probably Christian, and bases his opinion to some extent
on evidence from Kenyon 1893: no. 124 (= Henrichs 1974:
vol. 1 no. 10.36–50), a no doubt much earlier text whose
surviving copy was written in the fourth or fifth century,
and which he saw in the British Museum. The text on the
lower portion of column 2 of the papyrus (Kenyon’s lines
36–44, numbered in Henrichs’ edition as lines 29–42, and
this line numbering being followed by R. Hock in his
translation in Betz 1992: 149–50) is laid out in four
columns, each containing seven magical names or letter
combinations. Column 1 comprises several lines each with
the seven Greek vowels whose varying order is identical
with that on the Miletos inscription; in column 3 are the
names of seven archangels, each of which matches approx-
imately horizontally the seven vowel sets in column 1.
αεηιουω Μιχαηλ
εηιουωα Ραφαηλ
ηιουωαε Γαβριηλ
4 ιουωαεη Cουριηλ
ουωαεηι Ζαζιηλ
υωαεηιο Βαδακιηλ
ωαεηιου Cυλιηλ
Deissmann recognised that the arrangement of the
series of vowels in this papyrus from Egypt is identical
with those letters carved at Miletos in the five ovals, which
were originally seven: a consistent changing of the first
vowel in each oval to last position in the next one. He
concludes (396) that, as the bottom line of the inscription
mentions archangels (and, as he has just suggested, the
letters in the ovals represent archangels), then the symbols
above the ovals are not planetary ones but stand for the
seven archangels. This view is accepted by Herrmann in
his presentation of the text. In different contexts,
archangels may be listed in Jewish and Christian magico-
philosophical works from late antiquity in triads, tetrads
or, as here, in heptads (Corbin 1981: 127–33). In
Deissmann’s opinion (1923: 397), the prayer for the city
and its inhabitants in the Miletos inscription is made more
efficacious (‘kräftiger’) by the use of the magic symbols.
Within each oval the address to a singular hagios is
inferred to be to each of the seven archangels in turn.
Ruling out both pagans and Jews as responsible for the
inscription at Miletos – ‘Inhaltlich weist nicht das mindeste
auf das Heidentum, …’ and as the Jews were a minority
173
group in Miletos it is unlikely that they would be respon-
sible for it (1923: 398) – Deissmann considers that the
inscription was set into the wall at the time when the
theatre was converted into a Christian citadel (‘christlichen
Bollwerks’) and that guards or watchmen of the building
were the most likely group to be responsible for the words
and symbols in the inscription, and for having it placed in
the wall (1923: 398–99).
There are several flaws in Deissmann’s argument, and
we must wonder whether his enthusiasm got the better of
him when his boyhood friend from schooldays, Wiegand,
showed him the recently recovered stone in situ.
A. For Deissmann, the lettering is reflective of the early
Byzantine period; and at the end of his appendix he
speaks of the inscription belonging to the time of
Justinian, i.e. late fifth through to the mid sixth century.
Yet at the same time he wants to connect it with the
period of Kenyon’s papyrus (1893: no. 124, fourth or
fifth century). This approach to dating the inscription
is tenuous: it is not persuasive to derive its date from
connecting the contents of a fragmentary inscription
from Asia Minor with the text on a fragmentary
papyrus from Egypt whose original text may well
belong to a much earlier period than the copy which
happens to survive, a fortiori given that both of these
texts’ dates are uncertain on internal grounds. We may
agree with Deissmann on a more general, late antiquity
date for the inscription, i.e. at least late fourth century
and probably fifth. In this we concur with Cline
(2011b).
B. Subsequent archaeological work on the theatre has led
to the realisation that it was remodelled as a very sturdy
citadel rather later than Wiegand had supposed, in the
seventh century (Muller-Wiener 1967). Clive Foss
(1977: 477–79) endorses this date for what he calls the
‘castle over the theatre’; for him, the reuse of stones
from other buildings is a sign of a marked decline in
the city’s population in the seventh century. Conse-
quently, the inscribed stone that is our present focus
may be of earlier date than the remodelled citadel; and
this may account for its position on a low course in the
building, usefully illustrated by Cline (2011b: 59, fig.
2). To uncouple the connection between the inscription
and its present location, however, need not require us
to abandon the hypothesis of an apotropaic function.
C. We may agree with Deissmann as well, that worship-
ping Christians included prayer for their city’s safety.
Yet others had already for centuries been doing the
same via sacrifices to their city’s tutelary deity. So this
is not a basis on its own to privilege the text as
Christian. It is even less likely to have been erected as
a private initiative by the local Jewish community:
individual Jews may have exercised influence in the
 Anatolian Studies 2016
city and, judging from the evidence for Judaism from
that city noted above (see discussion under no. 3), there
was longstanding local recognition of their presence
and right to practice their religious and social tradi-
tions. Yet if the Jewish community had approval to act
in this way, we should expect that to be advertised as a
demonstration of their loyalty as citizens of Miletos.
G. Lüderitz (1983: no. 70) provides an example: at the
turn of the era, the Jewish community at Berenike in
Kyrenaika honoured a Roman citizen who was also
probably a Jew for renovations he effected to the city’s
amphitheatre (cf. R. Tracy in New Docs 4.202–09, no.
111). On this ground we suggest that the Miletos
inscription is ruled out from being a Jewish initiative.
We are left with the pagans and the Christians as the
only options, and will return to this shortly
D. Yet there are, too, some problems associated with the
idea that the inscription is Christian. The first concerns
the guards who, Deissmann speculates, may have been
responsible for putting the inscription in the wall. This
is quite improbable, given the detail and care taken
with the layout of the inscription. It is hardly a graffito
scrawled on the wall during an idle hour on night-duty.
His notion that it is a ‘non-official’ text is excluded
(1923: 398). Whoever was responsible for having it
carved must have had civic authorisation. Besides, we
might imagine that the clergy would be unlikely to
approve it as a Christian initiative. Two decrees of the
Council of Laodikeia issued in about the mid fourth
century prohibited Christians from invoking
(ὀνομάζειν) angels, and the local clergy from being
involved in magical practices. Decree no. 35 forbids
Christians to ‘turn to the worship of angels’ and decree
no. 36 forbids clergy from being ‘magicians,
conjurors, mathematicians or astrologers’ (New Docs
3.116, no. 93; Arnold 1995: 85–87). Although Jewish
Old Testament and Intertestamental literature has
examples of angels as protectors (Exodus 14.19–20; 2
Kings 19.35; Daniel 10.20–21; Tobit 12.11–15; 2
Maccabees 3.18–26; 3 Maccabees 6.16–21; 4
Maccabees 4.9–10), we might expect that Christians
would look primarily to God, and not to angels alone
to protect their city. Yet the very assumption of consid-
erable influence being exercised in a civic context by
Christians at this period is questionable. The Miletos
inscription is not a graffito, so we should conclude that
its making was officially sanctioned by the city
council. The Peace of the Church may have been inau-
gurated three or more generations earlier, but tradi-
tional religion still had influential adherents among
elite families; and the latter largely exercised a level
of control in their city that was far out of proportion
to their numbers.
174
E. Is arkhangelos a necessarily or distinctively Christian
marker? It does not occur in the LXX (pace LSJ s.v.),
but appears from the third century onwards, and espe-
cially in the Byzantine period, particularly of a select
group with individual names among all the angeloi.
Several instances in LSJ show that the word is not a
Christian monopoly or coinage, even though it became
increasingly associated with divine beings subordi-
nated to God. Furthermore, since in the koine it is a
ubiquitous phenomenon that many words are
compounded with the arkhi-prefix, the prefix may
carry no more semantic weight than the simplex form
(see examples in New Docs 2.18–19). Since there is no
explicit wording in the inscription to establish that it is
indubitably Christian, this may give us a way forward
to understanding better the source of the initiative.
F. The text and its translation merit closer scrutiny.
Arnold (1995: 84) is one who renders the second
sentence to parallel the first; for him, as for Deissmann,
both are invocations to divine beings. In fact, these
lines are saying different things. The verb in the last
line of text must be passive and – pace Deissmann –
singular; and so this text is announcing that the city is
being watched over, guarded. It is not a request to the
archangels to undertake this task. Rather, it identifies
them as the ones who are actually providing this role;
and accordingly we have repunctuated the Greek of
this line above to reflect this. Arnold’s lack of punctu-
ation of this part of the inscription misleadingly gives
the impression (since he provides a translation only)
that the text has a third-person plural verb with
archangeloi as the subject. Our repunctuation differs
slightly from the view of Grégoire (1922: 221), with
which G. Petzl concurs (see note in Herrmann’s
commentary). Like a ‘Guard dog on duty!’ sign on a
factory gate today as a security measure, this inscrip-
tion warns would-be attackers that archangeloi are on
the watch for the protection of Miletos. This also
avoids the awkwardness of these divine beings being
perceived as hostile to the city and as the ones being
warned away. The upper inscription addresses ambiva-
lently the Holy One, whether the Christian God or the
pagan tutelary deity of the city, requesting help to
guard it. The lower inscription, in contrast, identifies
the divine beings by whom the city is being guarded –
and, as we are seeing from the evidence in this essay,
angel terminology in Asia Minor and on some of the
Cycladic islands (which were treated administratively
by the Romans as part of the province of Asia) is not
the monopoly of any one religious tradition.
G. Related to this is the original position of the inscription,
which was later reused in what was once the theatre but
had been put to a defensive use in the seventh century.
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
We should expect that such a text was placed on an
exterior city wall, in the same way that statues of patron
gods of a city were set into the exterior city walls in late
antiquity. One instance of this is provided by the
northern Greek city of Dion, where a statue of Isis still
holds its position in an outside face of the city wall,
placed there, apparently, when external invasion was
feared in later antiquity. Horsley saw the wall with the
statue still in situ during a visit to the site in October
1991 with its archaeological director, Dimitri Pander-
malis. Its apotropaic function is obvious: the tutelary
deity of the city will face down attackers and ward them
off. Similarly, at each city gate of Hierapolis stands
Apollo qua archer god (Robert 1971: 610 = OMS 5.630).
If it can be ascertained that the Miletos inscription was
originally positioned on what became an exterior city
wall, we should interpret it as having a similar function.
This must remain an open question, apparently.
H. The inclusion of the symbols in the inscription cannot
be ignored, whether they stood for the seven archangels
(so Deissmann, followed by Herrmann) or something
else. According to Cumont (1915: 163–64, 174–75),
(arch)angels presiding over the seven planets is a
Babylonian/Zoroastrian notion in origin. His essay
shows awareness of Deissmann’s Licht vom Osten; so
the fact that he never links this observation with the
Miletos inscription (and actually never alludes to it in
his essay) implies that he did not regard its symbols as
alluding to the planets. Similarly, the use of the vowel
‘shuffle-ordering’ in the ovals on the inscriptions,
employed also in certain Greek magical papyri, is
indicative of pagan material. Influences are not one-
directional, for conversely, the magical papyri include
some wording which invoke Jewish archangels (for
example, Henrichs 1974: xc.1–13 [1–10]).
We are therefore at one with Cline (2011b), who
proposes that the text was carved in the late fourth or fifth
century, with its resiting in the theatre-become-citadel in
the seventh century when this remodelling occurred.
Although he does not exclude military threats, he connects
the inscription to a time of plague, by analogy with
inscribed apotropaic wall tablets relating to the Empire-
wide Antonine plague under Marcus Aurelius in AD 165
(Jones 2005; 2006). Yet Cline’s suggestion by analogy
advances no evidence for the Miletos text being set in
position to ward off plague specifically. Even though the
date of the inscription and that of the redevelopment of the
theatre as a defensive structure do not coincide, there
remained good reason for the citizens of Miletos to be
anxious about external dangers of whatever kind; and the
inscription provides testimony to such fears, even if we
cannot now specify what they were. Nor do we find
compelling Cline’s proposal (2011b: 67) that the ovals
175
carved on the stone ‘were intended to imitate the appear-
ance of personal, protective amulets’ and that ‘this is a case
of typically personal magic put to civic use’.
Against the interpretation put forward by Deissmann,
then, we argue that this Milesian inscription is probably
reflective of an official civic decision to avert some
perceived (or at least feared) external danger to the city in
late antiquity. It is not a Christian text as such, but one to
which Christians could accommodate themselves. Nor was
it so overtly Christian that influential families at Miletos
who still held out for traditional religion in this period felt
compromised. Jewish initiative is excluded, although
again, that local community may not have taken the
wording amiss. We thus see this intriguing inscription as a
civically authorised one for which those with different
religious perspectives at Miletos had to come to an accom-
modation with each other for their communal protection
and safety. This should not be a matter for surprise, on
reflection, for it is no unique phenomenon: witness, for
example, Ramsay’s comments (1897: 502–03) on the
continued use of pagan coin types at Eumeneia as the
Christian presence and profile became more and more
overt, and even dominant in the second half of the third
century.
As to the late fourth- or fifth-century date, it is not
possible to determine more precisely when this text may
have been carved, nor the specific context. In the 250s and
260s the Goths initiated several invasions of Asia Minor,
including against the coastal cities of Ionia. Miletos was
one city which suffered assault, perhaps in 262/3 (Magie
1950: 1.705-07, with 2.1566–68, n.28; Mitchell 2003:
1.235–36). On the ‘once bitten, twice shy’ principle, an
attack on the city in the second half of the third century
will inevitably have made the inhabitants edgy for the next
few generations. In the early fifth century Isaurian
brigands were causing trouble in Armenia Minor and
Kappadokia, and the Huns were creating terror in Thrace
and elsewhere (Jones 1964: 1.192, with 3.37, n.45).
Though the cities on the western coast of Asia Minor are
not mentioned by the sources in relation to this incursion,
apparently, rumour and anxiety can spread much further
and more rapidly than sometimes proves necessary. This
proposal of an early fifth-century date and general context
is the best approximation we can offer, though it is not to
be ruled out that the inscription may date to the second half
of the fourth century. Once the perceived danger had
passed, the stone simply remained where it had been posi-
tioned, and perhaps two centuries later it was incorporated
without being repositioned into the redesigned structure
involving the former theatre whose function was now
defensive. By that time the content of the inscription was
of no significance to those remodelling the structure. It was
the solid block of stone that was useful.
 Anatolian Studies 2016
Conclusions
The inscriptions from Asia Minor offer evidence for
angeloi which are either decisively or less certainly pagan
(1, 2?, 3a–b, 4a–f, 5?, 6, 7a–b, 8, 11 probably, 12?), Jewish
(2?, 5?) and Christian (2?, 9a–b, 9e, 10, 11 doubtfully,
12?). Numbers 9c–d (Attike) are omitted from this list as
they are not from Asia Minor and are really not relevant
to 9a–b with which they have been associated by
Guarducci and others. However, 9a–b (Thera) and 9e
(Melos) have been included because, by virtue of these
islands’ relative proximity to Asia Minor, the Romans
associated them with that mainland; but, as well, they are
integral to the argument of this essay in the verbal connec-
tion they have with 10, and the consequences that text has
for the dating of the Theran texts. Some of the inscriptions
which do not clearly belong in just one of these groups (2,
5, 12) may reflect a cross-fertilisation between the various
currents, but are themselves harder to categorise with
confidence. The first of these (2, from Kidrama in Caria),
in particular, should probably be set aside as irresolvable:
a problematic fragment of a text for which there is no
photo and no date provided by the first editors. The frag-
mentary nature of 5 relegates it to the ‘shadowland’
between Judaism and paganism. Number 12, however,
may provide an instance not so much of influence of one
tradition on another as an accommodation between them,
reflecting a situation where co-existence was seen as
important for the social good of a city. Whether the
presence of angeloi in paganism, Judaism and Christianity
allows us to infer that they were ‘catalysts in the conver-
sion of Pisidia [and elsewhere] to Christianity’ (Talloen
2015: 205) may be claiming too much for their importance
and inferring a wider presence than the evidence currently
permits.
Some of the items considered here have surprised us
as we have reflected on them. The Theran ‘angel of X’
group (9) looks boringly simplistic; yet, when taken in
conjunction with the two epitaphs from Phrygia (10), the
question of their date is raised anew. It is not ‘fence-sitting’
to suggest that the wording of the Miletos inscription (12)
permits the inference of an accommodation which
members of the city with different religious outlooks in the
fourth or fifth century could all accept. There must surely
be other epigraphical survivals which, while not
mentioning angeloi, reflect a similar religio-social accord
for the benefit of civic unity and security.
Perhaps the most intriguing feature is the numerically
thin attestation of angelos texts (pace Arnold 1995: 61)
except on Thera, and their sparse appearance in only a few
localities yet spread across several distinct regions in
western and southern-central Asia Minor (again, except for
Thera and Melos): Galatia, Phrygia, Pisidia, Lykia, Ionia,
Lydia, Caria. Coupled with this is the diversity of genres:
176
funerary, oracular, confession inscriptions related to the
search for justice. Few can certainly be connected with a
city proper (as against its territory): Didyma (1), Stra-
tonikeia (4) and Miletos (12) have definite urban instances,
as does Oinoanda (8), even though its example – easily the
most philosophically erudite, reflecting high-level
education in the verse text, and implying a similar
erudition in the person(s) who decided to have it carved
on the city wall – is unlikely to have been unique to that
location. An analogy is provided by the three partially
surviving copies of what must have been a larger number
erected in different cities of the letter of Maximinus in AD
312 encouraging people to expel Christians from their
territory (Horsley 2007: 240–43, no. 338, with commen-
tary). The Stratonikeia/Lagina dedications (4a–f) are also
to be regarded as urban, whereas 11, though found at
Yalvaç, may originally have been located in the territory
of Antioch. It looks as though we have a largely rural
phenomenon, as with a number of other deities (such as
Kakasbos in Pisidia: Horsley 2007: Excursus, 273–74)
which are never attested by literary sources.
Some of these angeloi texts reflect links with other
deities, as their subordinates, notably with Zeus at Stra-
tonikeia (4a–b, e–f), with Apollo in the case of the angeloi
Hosios and Dikaios (7a, and 7b if the proposed restoration
is accepted), and in other justice contexts such as confes-
sion texts (3a, 3b).
There is a point of some significance in the stimulating
challenge by B. Dignas (2003: 77–91) to the view of
Mitchell (2003: 1.195–97) and others, that the way
religious attitudes were expressed in villages was ‘a world
apart’ from what occurred in cities and large towns which
regularly had visitors from elsewhere and so were exposed
to change more naturally. The argument she advances is
certainly an important qualification to be weighed, but is
ultimately not fully compelling. The silence of literary
texts about so many shrines, cults and religious practices
which are attested only via inscriptions and archaeological
finds is a telling reason for caution about the claim that
perceived expressions of religiosity were not so different
between city and countryside in Asia Minor. That there
was an ‘actual symbiosis’ (Dignas 2003: 78) between
expressions of religiosity in urban and rural communities
is not to be doubted at one obvious level. Yet this does not
equate to a tangibly identical religious expression in scale,
in ambition and usually in visibility beyond the immediate
location. Her interesting discussion of the profile of the
cult centre for Apollo Lairbenos in Phrygia shows it to be
one of those exceptions – in this context not the only one,
as has been noted in the discussion of 3 above – which
‘prove the rule’, that competition between cities to control
successful religious centres was more typical. Nineteen of
the inscriptions from that sanctuary are rated as confession
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence
texts by Petzl (1994: nos 206–24), a dozen of which were
already known to F.S. Steinleitner and included in his
study (1913: nos 22–33).
Does the combination of a markedly (i.e. remote from
urban contexts) rural presence and a connection with
justice gods necessarily imply an indigenous phenomenon
for the Asia Minor angeloi? This is an attractive proposi-
tion, but one harder to determine. Thus, V. Hirschmann
(2007) tentatively suggests an Iranian origin for them, a
hypothesis already raised by Cumont a century ago in
conjunction with his Syrian/Semitic proposal (1915: 163–
64; 1929: 279, n.52) and revived once more by R. Merkel-
bach with specific reference to Hosios and Dikaios (1993:
295–96; SEG 41.1836). There is insufficient evidence to
allow us to conclude that this is a – let alone the – definite
origin and source. Nevertheless, given the centuries-long
Persian involvement in, and domination of Asia Minor
prior to Alexander’s blitzkrieg against Dareios III, we
should not be surprised at this influence as one possible
current. Well before Alexander, eastern Greek and Persian
motifs were converging in the funerary monuments of
Lykia (Jacobs 1987): as one example from Lydian Sardeis,
see Ramage 1979. The god Men may provide a more ubiq-
uitous analogy – if he is indeed by origin an Iranian moon
deity – whose presence in rural Asia Minor is especially
visible, and whose role as a justice god is evident from the
confession inscriptions. The fact that angelos cults are
attested in few cities ‘proves the rule’ that such texts and
the mentality lying behind them were not connected
primarily with the Greek poleis, whether those of centuries’
antiquity on the western and southern coasts of Asia Minor
prior to the Roman domination, or those which grew to
prominence via acculturation to Hellenism as a gradual
development after Alexander’s rapid domination of the
region and the later Roman pax in the second century.
The fact that the examples are of imperial date without
exception suggests that these scattered angeloi attestations
were an indigenous phenomenon which was only articu-
lated in Greek in rural areas once Hellenism made its way
to dominance under the Roman Empire. As with other
rural religious manifestations in Asia Minor, the cult of the
angelos – perhaps we should more cautiously speak of
‘cults’ rather than presume some associative homogeneity
between them – may well have had an indigenous
presence, not in written form but via anepigraphic dedica-
tions at open-air shrines and other monuments erected
under differing motivations (for example, the desire for
justice). In those regions where Greek inscriptions
mentioning angeloi have been attested, there are simply
too few texts surviving in the various indigenous
languages of Asia Minor to allow us to do more than
advance this as a cautious inference on the basis of analogy
with other epichoric deities.
177
An analogy of a number of lightbulbs, not all on the
same electrical circuit but each with its own wiring, may
help to clarify our view, that the sparse and scattered attes-
tations of angeloi may mean that there were independent
developments in different locales; and this opens the door
a little to the possibility that some angelos texts reflect an
amalgam of indigenous with other influences, whether
survivals of Iranian notions, or Jewish or Christian influ-
ences – whether ‘normative’ or ‘non-normative’ in these
traditions’ localised understandings about such divine
beings. Overall, however, we suggest that it is more
probable that the angeloi phenomenon occurred rather
more widely than our tiny number of attestations suggests.
Just as fish in a muddy waterhole may surface momentarily
here and there and then disappear from sight, so we should
not conclude too hastily that our few tangibly surviving
‘angel fish’ confirm their actual rarity. Mention in literary
texts by the elite is not always a reliable measure of
frequency or importance. Why should the well-educated,
urban elite bother to comment on a phenomenon which did
not impact on them, however much it may have been alive
to inhabitants of rural villages in central and western
Anatolia with whom they had little or no personal contact?
We will return to why it did not impact on them below.
How do the comparatively large number of ‘angel’
texts from Thera relate to all this? The apparently totally
Christian context of these epitaphs may be said to reflect
a local manifestation on an island some considerable
distance from the Asia Minor mainland and so independent
(at least from that landmass) in its own development. It
may have been stimulated partly by awareness of a local
interest in angeloi which was then embraced by Christians
mainly for their memorialisation of the dead, and imbued
with a further layer of religious meaning which occurred
during a period that was moving towards an increased
profile for the still quite new faith. This is simply an
hypothesis: there is no evidence to confirm or reject it.
Should we allow that Judaism exercised an influence
on these Theran texts, too? Dibelius was quite definite a
century ago that these and other angel figures attested in
Asia Minor, Thera and elsewhere were not reflective of
Jewish influence, but rather the reverse (1909: especially
220); but in such a claim he goes too far. In our view,
Jewish impact is ruled out on the ground that, taken as a
whole, the angelos inscriptions we have considered do not
reveal an organised or coherently expressed cult of angels
among Jews (so Arnold 1995: 89). Those texts are mostly
epitaphs, and so are fundamentally different in function
from the two very similar Jewish inscribed pleas for
vengeance (later second century BC) against the murderers
of the Jewish women Herakleia and Marthina, from the
island of Rheneia adjacent to Delos and north of Thera.
These ‘twin’ texts have received considerable attention
 Anatolian Studies 2016
over the last century. Adolf Wilhelm’s contribution (1901)
remains the most authoritative discussion and redating (end
of the second century to the early first century BC). They
became known to a much wider readership due to
Deissmann including in LvO as appendix 1 (1923: 351–62)
an updated version of his 1902 article. M.-T. Couilloud
(1974: 214–15) reprints both texts as her no. 485 (pl. 84
gives her text I, concerning Marthina), but with virtually
no commentary or bibliography as they had already been
published in the Delos series (Roussel, Launey 1937:
7.2532). In these closely paired texts the appeal is
addressed to both Theos Hypsistos (further described as
κύριε ὁ πάντα ἐφορῶν) καὶ οἱ ἄνγελοι θεοῦ (lines 9–10 in
both texts). Rather, this looking to the divine for justice,
when no human authority has been efficacious, offers from
an earlier century an independent analogy with the couple
of confession texts we have where angeloi are mentioned
in the context of justice being sought. Yet whereas it is
decidedly temerarious to propose Jewish influence
(however confusedly mediated) on the Lydian and
Phrygian confession texts, behind the Rheneia inscriptions
indubitably stands the Septuagint, as Deissmann and others
since him have seen. The first Septuagint occurrences,
three of them, of the wording theos hypsistos for the Jewish
God appear at the pivotal encounter between Melkhizedek
and Abram (Genesis 14.18–24). This passage is program-
matic for the influence of that terminology in all Jewish
writing in Greek from then on. Moreover, the invocation
of the kyrios who ‘sees over everything’ may well allude
to such passages as Jubilees 34.24 (especially the reading
in Alexandrinus) and 2 Maccabees 12.22. For this reason,
we may consider whether no. 284 in Mitchell’s catalogue
of Theos Hypsistos inscriptions (1999: 146) could be
appropriate to add to his tabulation (2010: 186) as a pagan
text whose authors were aware of Jewish terminology.
There are differences between the angeloi inscriptions
of Roman Asia Minor; and yet there is a common denom-
inator, however differently articulated. Justice is not
always the same as fairness, and the appeal for the former
to a higher, impartial authority, whether divine or of a
superior human status, requires a community to respect the
judgement given. Without that, social cohesiveness breaks
down. Where no codified law is locally operational in
practice, where no appeal can be made to a disinterested
human arbitrator, the divine is an essential (and much
older) source of justice. Whether for pagan, Jew or
Christian, the Mediterranean world in the time of the
Roman Empire provided various avenues to seek justice;
and the role of supra-human angels appears as one such
route. There may well have been some cross-currents of
influence locally in these centuries of great cultural flux;
interpenetration socially, politically, linguistically and reli-
giously should be no surprise to us – when it can be estab-
178
lished. But establishing it in its specifics is far from
straightforward. This is perhaps more true of Asia Minor
than of any other land mass in the ancient Mediterranean,
since it was a nexus for so many different societies and
cultures over several millennia. Yet, on the other hand, we
should not be too quickly dismissive of the likelihood of
some independent, semi-parallel development – and a
fortiori in the case of angeloi in remote rural contexts
where a Jewish presence of any substance is very unlikely.
So care is needed not to force all these angel inscrip-
tions – and there really are very few of them (apart from
those on Thera), and scattered at that, both geographically
and chronologically – into one mould. Idiosyncrasy by
some who erected these monuments must always be
allowed for. Nevertheless, we see in them a broad
awareness, articulated in diverse ways, of a divine being
(or plurality of them) who can be appealed to for justice,
or else as the one to ensure via a communicative role that
justice occurs at the behest of better-known gods in a
pantheon which by the time of the Roman Empire was in
the process of gradually becoming narrowed down towards
henotheism, if not actual monotheism. The chthonic and
non-chthonic angeloi which we encounter in the Greek
inscriptions do not provide a true parallel to the dichotomy
between demonic and celestial angeloi which Judaism
established especially in the Intertestamental period and
through into Late Judaism. To that extent, at least, if it is
the case that the post-exilic development of Jewish
monotheism necessitated the formulation in tandem of an
angelological system, as it is claimed (Koch 1993), pagan
angels were neither contributory to Jewish ideas of angels
(as Dibelius claimed a century ago) nor susceptible to
influence from that direction, but a largely independent
development with varied expression and purpose in
different, mostly non-urban localities in Roman Asia Minor.
Clarificatory comments and acknowledgements
This article summarises and revises aspects of the MA
honours thesis presented and examined at the University
of New England, New South Wales in February 2012 by
J.M. Luxford, then aged 88, a candidate in Greek: Pagan
Angels in Greek Inscriptions: A Reconsideration of the
Evidence. With her agreement, G.H.R. Horsley as her
former supervisor has developed in much greater detail
and with further examples her final chapter on the
epigraphic testimonia to angeloi in Asia Minor in the
Roman imperial period relevant to the topic. Thus, this
article moves considerably beyond the thesis in a number
of respects. An abbreviated version was given during 2015
by Horsley at various venues: the annual conference of the
Australasian Society for Classical Studies, held at the
University of Adelaide in January; in another form as a
seminar paper for the School of Humanities at the Univer-
 Horsley and Luxford | Pagan angels in Roman Asia Minor: revisiting the epigraphic evidence

sity of New England in July; and in October at the
following universities in Europe: Erfurt, Frankfurt, Vienna,
Salzburg and Lund.
Adolf Deissmann’s annotated author’s copy of the
fourth edition of Licht vom Osten (LvO; held privately) has
been consulted and quoted in 9 with the permission of his
granddaughter, Frau Angelika Deissmann. We express our
thanks to the following individuals for collegial advice
and/or readiness to allow us to reprint their photos: G.W.
Bowersock, S. Brehme, A. Cadwallader, D. Feissel,
C. Koehn, S. Mitchell, J. Moorhead, G. Petzl, M. Ricl,
A.R.R. Sheppard (to whom particular appreciation is
expressed for his generously given advice although he
knew that we did not agree with his views), G.R. Stanton,
T.S. Taylor, E. Varinlioǧlu, A. Weiß and the journal’s two
referees. Horsley has been appreciative of Geoff and Lorne
Siems who provided a haven in which to write and revise
drafts of this article.

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