Professional Documents
Culture Documents
1. Introduction
A baptistery is a physical structure created as a setting for the celebration of
Christian baptism. his category of buildings may seem rather obvious but re-
ally is not. Particularly diicult to understand are, on one hand, the relationship
between the earliest monumental baptisteries and the context of late antique ar-
chitecture in the same period, and on the other hand, what really was the reason
behind the choice of the form of the buildings. he following pages intend both
to give a short overview of the material, concentrating more on the structures,
on the buildings themselves, than on their decoration, and to discuss fruitful and
fruitless approaches to the study of the material.
For the irst two centuries, the celebration of Christian baptism seems not to
have let any physical traces in particular structures or architectural settings for
the celebration. he available evidence makes it reasonable to believe that up to
the third century, the rite of Christian baptism was celebrated in settings which
were not deined in the irst hand as a baptismal place. Probably the celebra-
tion took place outdoors. he earliest known baptistery or architectural setting
for baptism is from the 240s: a rectangular basin in a private house adapted to
community centre, in Dura Europos in today’s Syria1 (treated elsewhere in this
publication by Korol), but monumental baptisteries are known only from the
fourth century onwards; many belong to the ith and sixth centuries.2 hese
Early Christian baptisteries were designed especially for the baptism of adults,
and thus belong to the phase of expansion of Christianity in the Late Antique
and Early Medieval world. he Early Christian baptisteries consisted of a basin
or font, in which the baptized person was immersed in water, surrounded by
a room or a monumental building which deined the space for the celebration
around the font, which was usually placed at the centre of the room while a
more or less circular corridor usually was let free all around the font. Both
basin and building could have various shapes in diferent periods and diferent
regions, but what they all have in common is, on one hand, that they always
belong to a church, and, on the other hand, that they are always separated from
the church, i.e. the room where Eucharist was celebrated. his relects the ini-
tiatory character of Early Christian baptism and the strong separation between
the baptized and the non baptized.
It may seem strange that a baptismal architecture evolved so late. Also when
monumental churches were built in the fourth century, oten their baptisteries
were built in a later moment. It seems that a special kind of building was not
necessary for the celebration of the baptismal rite, perhaps less necessary than
the huge basilicas which became of essential importance when Christianity
expanded and more and more people gathered for the celebrations. he crea-
tion of monumental baptisteries seems to have been more a result of a wish to
monumentalize and create a propaganda architecture.
twice balneus/um. he pilgrim talks about his visits to three baptismal plac-
es, and describes thus the baptistery of the basilica of the Holy Sepulchre in
Jerusalem: Basilica … mirae pulchritudinis habens ad latus excepturia, unde
aqua levatur, et balneum a tergo, ubi infantes lavantur. he author also men-
tions the fons, in quo Philippus eunuchum baptizavit. Earlier in the same text,
however, the author mentions a private bath in Caesarea, venerated as the place
of the baptism of Cornelius: Ibi est balneus Cornelii centurionis, qui multas
elymosynas faciebat. his last balneus is clearly a private bath, and it is interest-
ing that in the irst half of the fourth century it was possible to present a bath as
a place for baptism. Anyhow, it seems probable that still in the Constantinian
period, standard Latin expressions would have been fons and balneum rather
than baptisterium.
All these expressions indicated buildings and structures for bath and did
not express the meaning attributed to the bath itself: if it was normal every-
day cleansing of the body, or ritual initiation to the Christian community. Of
course, baptisteries built close to the cathedrals could not be used as baths, but
they were indeed a particular group in the bigger ield of bath buildings.
One of the few new and exclusively Christian expressions was the Greek
φωτιστήριον (Socr. H.E. 7,4), house of enlightenment, oten found in Eastern
sixth century inscriptions, from φωτισμός, illumination = baptism (cfr. Just.,
1 Apol., 61).
9 Deichmann, “Baptisterium”.
10 Khatchatrian, Les baptistères paléochrétiens. Plans, notices et bibliographies. Khatchatrian
died in 1967, but a volume with updates and general considerations by the author was pub-
lished 15 years ater his death: Khatchatrian, Origine et typologie des baptistères paléochré-
tiens.
11 Ristow, Frühchristliche Baptisterien.
12 T. Mannoni/A. Cagnana, “Archeologia dei monumenti. L’analisi stratigraica del battistero
paleocristiano di Albenga (SV)”.
13 Brandt/Guidobaldi, “Il Battistero Lateranense”.
5.1. Forms
Also several important regional studies have been made in the last decades, cov-
ering regions like Italy,14 Palestine15 or France16, outlining great regional difer-
ences between baptisteries in diferent parts of the Late Antique world between
the third and the sixth century. On the other hand, some of these regional difer-
ences may depend largely on diferences in date, which is largely unknown due
to the fact that many monuments were excavated without modern stratigraphic
method, making it almost impossible to understand the pattern of difusion of
these diferences. An example: many important baptisteries in Italy and France
are independent buildings and have broad fonts, but they are generally quite
early, from the fourth or ith century: smaller, incorporated baptisteries with
narrower and deeper fonts are typical of North Africa, Spain and the East, but
also of the sixth century.
When trying to understand ancient architecture, it is useful to distinguish
between structure (the walls) and decoration. A survey of the structures of an-
cient baptisteries must of course begin with the oldest known baptistery, found
in Dura Europos: a small rectangular font built against one of the short walls
of a rectangular room and covered by a canopy on two columns. here are
some similarities with later Syrian baptisteries where the font is at one end of
the room, also in monumental baptisteries like the late ith century complex
of Qal’at Sem’an (Syria) (Fig. 30). he mainstream of baptistery architecture
develops in another direction. From the early fourth century, the font is usually
placed at the centre of the room (Fig. 31), which has a square or central plan,
circular or polygonal. he choice of the central plan was probably natural when
the growing number of people who assisted at the celebration made it essential
to build big halls around the font: that is, in the irst place, in the crowded ca-
thedrals. hese important monumental baptisteries should however not make
us forget that most baptisteries are quite modest square or rectangular rooms.
hey oten have a small apse, and are incorporated into the same complex as the
church, oten with at least one access from one of the aisles.
From the fourth century, many important baptisteries in Central and North
Italy, South France and in the East are built on a central plan, oten octagonal.
14 L’ediicio battesimale in Italia. Aspetti e problemi. Atti dell’VIII Congresso Nazionale di Archeolo-
gia Cristiana.
15 B. Bagatti, “I battisteri della Palestina”; Falla Castelfranchi, ΒΑΠΤΙΣΤΗΡΙΑ. Intorno ai
più noti battisteri dell’Oriente; M. Ben Pechat, “he Paleochristian Baptismal Fonts in the Holy
Land. Formal and Functional Study”.
16 J. Guyon, “Baptistères et groupes épiscopaux de Provence. Élaboration, difusion et devenir
d’un type architectural”; Guyon, Le premiers baptistères des Gaules (IVe – VIIIe siècles).
17 G. Pelliccioni, Le nuove scoperte sulle origini del battistero lateranense. O. Brandt, “Il
Il bat-
tistero lateranense da Costantino a Ilaro. Un riesame degli scavi”; Brandt/Guidobaldi, “Il
Battistero Lateranense”.
18 S. Eyice, “Le baptistère de Ste Sophie d’Istanbul”.
19 Guyon, “Baptistères et groupes épiscopaux de Provence. Élaboration, difusion et devenir d’un
type architectural”; Guyon, Le premiers baptistères des Gaules (IVe – VIIIe siècles).
20 Falla Castelfranchi, Baptisteria. Intorno ai più noti battisteri dell’Oriente.
21 Cf. the development of the forms of basins in fountains and nymphaea in N. Neuerburg,
L’architettura delle fontane e dei ninfei nell’Italia antica; W. Letzner, Römische Brunnen und
Nymphaeen in der westlichen Reichshälte; L. Farrar, Gardens of Italy and the Western Prov-
inces of the Roman Empire 4th century BC-4th century AD.
level, making it diicult for an adult person to enter them. Probably this relects
a majority of baptisms of children: they were held above the high but narrow
font, which had developed gradually from the broader basins of the fourth cen-
tury to a shape quite similar to medieval and modern Christian fonts.
5.2. Decoration
6. Understanding Structure
his is more or less the material; something has been said also about methods.
But what about theory? Early Christian archaeology is not a tradition where ex-
plicit discussion of theory is frequent, but many important studies in the ield
of baptisteries continue to search, with little success, for answers to the same
questions, showing that the research oten is guided by implicit theoretical ap-
proaches in the eforts of inding a pattern in diferences, difusion and distribu-
tion. It may be useful to dedicate some attention in this paper to approaches and
questions which seem to have been particularly unsuccessful.
A particularly frequent approach towards the middle of the last century
could be deined typological or genealogical, in a kind of research of the Typus,
as if the group had a metaphysical reality on its own. his approach has been
used by De Angelis D’Ossat27 and especially by Khatchatrian, whose studies
can be considered the most explicit expression of this typological-genealogical
approach:28 Khatchatrian’s approach can be translated as: “this is done because
someone has already done it before”.
Also Ristow shows in his volume of 1998 that he is related to this genealogic
tradition of German-speaking scholars like Dölger and Deichmann, when he
accepts that the Roman baths can have been a model for the baptisteries. But
Ristow is very prudent and states, quite correctly, that it is not possible to show
that the baptisteries “come” from a particular model.29 Ristow’s approach is de-
scriptive and prudent but still signed by the research for the origin of the Typus.
he typological approach depends on the Darwinistic belief that it is pos-
sible to reconstruct the genealogy of any artistic or technological expression;
that is, that the shape of a building depends more on its parents than on the
aim for which that individual building was made. For Dölger, model for the
irst baptisteries, and especially for the octagonal ones, were the Roman baths,
especially the frigidarium30. he statement is not groundless, but is in some way
the answer to a non-existing question. he Christian baptistery does not “come”
from the baths, because it is one of them; if the word baptisterium could mean
frigidarium, it means that a baptisterium was a structure where you could im-
merge in water. Whether the baptisterium was a bath or a room for Christian
initiation was oten not expressed by terminology or the form of the structure
but rather by the context and the decoration. It is preferable to think that the
form of a building is not only some dead weight which it has taken over from
its parents, but rather that it is in some way perfect for its aim, even if our un-
derstanding of this aim may be imperfect. Also in other ields of the study of
ancient technology, the genealogic approach is more and more abandoned. 31
Another rather fruitless approach which has been used more recently can be de-
ined topographic. According to this approach, it is possible to ind rules which
determine the position of the baptistery compared to that of the basilica or of
the city. However, the result of this approach is mostly negative. he relationship
between the baptistery and the episcopal complex was the object of a keynote
speech at the eleventh International Congress of Christian Archaeology in 1986
by Pere De Palol, who was forced to conclude simply that “No existen regolas
ijas para la disposiciòn de los baptisterios en relaciòn al templo”.32 his has not
stopped scholars from continuing to ask the same question, like in an impor-
tant contribution at the eight Italian Congress of Christian Archaeology in 1998,
which, again, lead to the conclusion that “Nemmeno la posizione del battistero
nei confronti della chiesa sembra rispondere a regole vincolanti.”33 Another pa-
per at the same conference concluded that “la posizione topograica del luogo
dove si praticava il battesimo nei confronti … di un ediicio di culto ci sembra
problema di grande interesse ma al momento scarsamente modellabile, se non
in una mera elencazione di casistiche talmente ampie da risultare scarsamente
signiicative su un piano generale”.34
he research for topographic rules thus seems to have come to an end, and
it is improbable that new studies will be able to demonstrate the existence of a
rule which has been overlooked so far, except for the fundamental rule that, as
far as we know, no baptistery was ever built alone but always close to a church.
In the fourth century it was natural to build them close to the bishop’s church
in the towns, because at this period baptism was normally celebrated by the
bishop during the Vigils of Easter and Pentecost (letters of several 4th and 5th
C. Popes: in 385 Siricius, Ep. 1; in 447 Leo I, Ep. 16; in the 490s Gelasius, Ep. 14).
From the late fourth century, in some places such as Gaul, Spain, South Italy
and the East, baptism was celebrated also on other occasions: such as Christ-
mas and Epiphany on 6th January. On the latter date, in the late sixth century
the church of Jerusalem commemorated the baptism of Christ with baptisms in
the river Jordan. In these regions, baptism could also be celebrated on the anni-
versaries of important martyrs. his may help to explain why many monumen-
tal baptisteries in the East from the ith century onward are found in martyrs’
sanctuaries outside the towns.35 Most famous are those of St John at Ephesus,36
Abu Menas in Egypt,37 and Qal’at Sim’an in Syria38. It is possible that they were
used for the baptism of pilgrims during the martyr’s feast-day, but we cannot
exclude the possibility that they were simply used for the celebration of Easter
baptism for the surrounding community. he baptisteries in the sanctuaries
of the Roman martyrs Peter, Paul and Lawrence were used in exactly that way
from the middle of the ith century (Liber Pontiicalis I, 249).
However, the presence of a baptistery in a church dedicated to a martyr
doesn’t necessarily imply that it was used during the feast of the martyr and not
during the celebration of Easter. During the entire ith century Rome stuck to
the tradition of restricting the celebration of baptism to Easter and Pentecost.
Easter baptism always remained the most important, and if there are important
baptisteries in some martyrs’ churches, this may also be explained by the fact
that some of these churches were used as cathedrals; the baptism celebrated in
these baptisteries would then again be that of Easter and Pentecost. Also in ith
century Rome, baptisteries in the martyrs’ sanctuaries close to the catacombs
outside the walls were used for Easter baptism, celebrated by priests, while the
bishop led the most solemn celebration in the baptistery of the Lateran cathe-
dral (Fig. 27). From the fourth century onwards, however, baptisteries where
the celebration was led by priests can be found also in rural churches39 and
from the early ith century in parish churches in bigger cities such as Rome
and Constantinople. From the sixth century, it is common to ind more than
one baptistery in a town (in Italy Rome and Milan, in North Africa Timgad,
Carthage, Sbeitla, Sabratha and Lepcis Magna). his does not necessarily imply
the presence of two bishops and schismatic communities, as has oten been said,
but perhaps rather merely that many people were baptized on Easter in parallel
celebrations, held under the supervision of the bishop. his may be conirmed
by the occasional presence of two baptisteries in the same cathedral complex
in some big towns such as Milan, although some scholars imagine that one of
these double baptisteries was used for women.
he growing autonomy of the priests in the celebration of baptism from the
fourth century onwards led to the construction of smaller baptisteries in parish
churches both in the countryside and in bigger towns. hese baptisteries are
rarely separate buildings. In the towns, these secondary baptisteries have so
far been found only in Rome, in the churches of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere,40
San Clemente,41 San Crisogono,42 Santa Croce in Gerusalemme,43 San Lorenzo
in Lucina,44 San Marcello al Corso45 and San Marco.46 However, the same de-
velopment seems to have taken place in Constantinople, because in 404 it was
reported that the Easter baptism was being celebrated in several churches. New
archaeological discoveries may add much to our knowledge of the baptisteries
of Constantinople and other great cities such as Antioch.
Every baptistery was built with some relationship to a church, but this re-
lationship could take many forms. he baptistery could be placed in a separate
building or in a simpler annex to the church. Most baptisteries are in rooms
annexed to the church, while independent baptisteries are common in some
regions and periods, especially in North Italy and South France. Famous ex-
amples are the fourth century Lateran baptistery in Rome (Fig. 27), S. Giovanni
alle fonti in Milan, and the ith century “Orthodox” baptistery in Ravenna, all
octagonal. Baptisteries incorporated into churches are common from the ith
century in North Africa and Asia Minor. In these regions, important baptister-
ies are also united with the church architectonically through corridors or other
solutions. Some baptisteries were placed in front of the facade of the church,
united with it by an atrium or similar structures, as in the case of the Basilica
Eufrasiana in Poreč, Croatia (Fig. 39), or the external baptistery of the cathe-
dral of Aquileia, Italy (Fig. 32). A common solution is to place an incorporated
baptistery behind the apse of the basilica between other rooms, which could be
reached from doors at the end of the aisles. Many baptisteries were surrounded
by other rooms, and it is tempting but diicult to identify one of them as the
consignatorium, where baptism was completed with the holy unction.
Testamentum Domini nostri Jesu Christi, which describes a symbolism where the
measures of the baptistery recall the numbers of the prophets and the apostles.
Dölger concludes that there was a “klar ausgesprochene(n) Absicht, beim Bau
eines Tauhauses eine Symbolik zur Ausfuerhung zu bringen”,47 although he
himself observes that the measures mentioned in the text cannot be found in
any known building. his observation is enough to show that also the symbolic
approach is a failure. Texts are texts, and structures are structures. A symbolic
reading could be done a posteriori or talk about buildings which did not exist. It
is something completely diferent to understand which factors really determined
the shape of a real building during the preparation of its building. Probably there
oten was no wish to create a symbolism “beim Bau” but rather during the use of
the building. Gerard Lukken and Mark Searle made a useful distinction in their
study of the semiotics of church architecture from 1993: “Architecture is the re-
sult of two processes: irst there is the process whereby the building comes into
existence, and second there is the process whereby the meaning of the building
is altered by the many uses to which it is put in day-to-day living”.48
In spite of these recent, useful distinctions, the symbolic approach is still
frequent and popular and is oten treated as obvious. In his introduction to
the proceedings of a recent conference on “Architektur und Liturgie”, Andreas
Odenthal states that “Die
Die Bedeutung des liturgischen Raumes geht nicht in sei-
ner Funktionalität für das Ritual auf. Wie in den Kirchweihriten deutlich wird,
drückt der Kirchenbau aus, was theologisch über die in ihm versammelte Ge-
meinde, die Kirche, zu sagen ist.”49 Fortunately, other scholars are abandoning
this approach: Sible De Blaauw recently made the welcome statement that it was
not the symbolism but rather the nature and Verlauf of the baptismal liturgy
which determined the choice of the shape of the baptistery.50 De Blaauw does
not deny that there may have been a wish for symbolism, but he stresses that
the form of the baptistery must most of all be itting for the rites, and inds the
reason behind the choice of the shape in the space needed for the celebration.
he most well-known example of the discussion about the symbolism of the ar-
chitecture of early Christian baptisteries concerns the octagonal plan, frequent
among monumental baptisteries especially in north Italy and south France.
Dölger believed that the octagonal shape was chosen because of the symbolic
interpretations of the number eight, mentioned by St. Ambrose in an inscrip-
tion in the baptistery of Milan.51 He himself believed, however, that the shape
had been borrowed from the frigidaria of the late Roman baths. his was an
important observation which sprang out of Dölger’s ambition to study the inter-
action between “Antike” und “Christentum”, between the early Christianity and
contemporary culture.
he octagonal shape was the latest fashion in the fourth century, when the
irst monumental baptisteries were built. Octagonal halls did not always have
the same function, and it is diicult to imagine that the form in itself could
carry any absolute symbolic content. In Imperial palaces, from the irst century
Domus Aurea to the Domus Augustana on the Palatine in Rome and the palace
of Diocletian in Split, octagonal halls had diferent functions.
From the second to the ith century, octagonal halls become more and more
frequent in baths. his is evident if you look at the plans in the catalogue of Ro-
man baths by Inge Nielsen.52 Many are diicult to distinguish from those in
the classical corpus of early Christian baptisteries by Khatchatrian. In Nielsen’s
catalogue, the octagonal halls are found in the baths of the Heliocaminus in the
Villa Adriana at Tivoli, dated to 118–131 (catalogue number C56), in the baths
of the Olympieion in Athens from 124–131 (C255), the baths of Butrint in Alba-
nia from the early second century (C353), the Antoninian baths of Carthage in
Tunisia (C209), the Forum baths at Ostia from the second century (C214), the
southern baths of Bostra from the second or third century (C286), the baths of
Dchar Jdid from the same period (C124), the third century “C” baths in Anti-
ochia (C374), in Diocletian’s baths in Rome 298–305/6 (C11), the baths of Max-
entius on the Palatine in Rome 306–312 (C12), the baths of Constantine of the
year 315 (Fig. 36) (C13), the baths of Piazza Armerina in Sicily 320–340 (C65),
the northeast baths of Bulla Regia, perhaps fourth century (C208), and the ith
century baths of Toprak-en-Naroidja (C386).
Other Roman monuments of octagonal shape can not even be deined as
halls. An enigmatic structure at the centre of the Atrium Vestae in Rome was
dated by van Deman to the second century AD and interpreted as a summer
pavilion.53 Another enigmatic structure, which may have something to do with
nymphaea or fountains, is the octagonal structure at the centre of the peristy-
lium of the Domus Flavia on the Palatine, of Domitianic date. he structure
has been described as an octagonal labyrinth with channels for some kind of
51 Dölger, “Zur Symbolik des altchristlichen Tauhauses”, 153–160; St. Ambrose’s inscription in
Bücheler (ed.), Carmina Latina Epigraphica, Lipsiae 1895–1897, 908; see also Cuscito, “Epi- Epi-
grai di apparato nei battisteri paleocristiani d’Italia”; for the symbolic interpretation of the
number eight in early Christian culture, see also A. Quacquarelli, L’ogdoade patristica e i suoi
rilessi nella liturgia e nei monumenti.
52 I. Nielsen, hermae et Balnea. he Architecture and Cultural History of Roman Public Baths.
53 E. B. van Deman, he Atrium Vestae, 44, Plan E, o.
fountain.54 Both structures were found at the centre of a peristylium, and prob-
ably both had something to do with water.
Dölger was right in seeing a relationship between the architecture of baptis-
teries and that of late antique baths, but he didn’t take the inal step of widening
the horizon and see that both baptisteries and baths ware part of the same cul-
ture which liked to create architectural backdrops for water and fountains. his
late antique, cultural backdrop was better understood in the same years by Paul
Styger.55 he great baths in Rome all belong to late antiquity: those of Caracalla
are the oldest among them, but the baths of Diocletian, Maxentius and Con-
stantine (Fig. 36) all were built in the same period when the irst monumental
baptisteries were created. It is illuminating to walk along the streets of Ostia
antica and ind so many fountains and nymphaea, both along the streets and in
the private domus, which all belong to the same fourth century.56 his common
late antique culture of architectural structures for water is more helpful than
symbolism in order to understand the origin of the architecture of the octago-
nal early Christian baptisteries.
As has been outlined above, the last century has seen several less fruitful paths of
research in the study of early Christian baptisteries. Probably for future research,
the most fruitful approach will be to consider the architectural structure not
as a work of art intended to express something, but rather as an answer to the
needs of the celebration, as indicated by De Blaauw, who sees the fundamental
reason behind the choice of the octagonal plan or of any central plan in the need
of moving around the font during the celebration; whatever was meant to be
expressed, except for a general expression of grandeur, monumentality and rich-
ness, was expressed through the decoration and not through the structure. he
fundamental question to consider is the space needed for the celebration. How-
ever, a purely ritual approach is not enough. It can be interesting and stimulating
to try to identify the places used for the diferent parts of the celebration, as De
Blaauw himself has done for the Lateran (Fig. 37)57 and G. C. Menis for Aquileia
(Fig. 38),58 but it is diicult to do any true progress on this path. Texts and struc-
tures are diferent universes and obey diferent mental structures. It is diicult
to use one to explain the other. Neither does the purely ritual approach explain
why the structures of the baptisteries so oten are identical to the forms of other
buildings with completely diferent functions.
he problem can be resolved only by taking one further step and ask what
really distinguished the celebration performed in these buildings seen as an
action, beyond the ritual and ideological label given to it. his approach can be
helped by the discussion of space which has developed during the last decades
in urbanistic and architectural studies both of the modern and of the ancient
world. his recent space discussion is in great part inspired by the “Space syn-
tax analysis” proposed by Hillier and Hanson in their volume he Social Logic
of Space of 1984, which aims to study social processes through the quantiica-
tion of the relationships between architectural spaces. In the studies of the an-
cient world, this method has been used particularly in Ray Laurence’s studies
of the city of Pompeii.59 Laurence expresses the classical form of the theory that
the movement and its meaning are determined by structures. However, this ap-
proach to the study of space is not entirely satisfying. As a matter of fact, oten
movement does not automatically obey structures; people don’t go to church
just because you build one. A better approach can be inspired by Henri Lefebvre
and his 1974 book La production de l’éspace.60 He states that: “Les Les gestes orga-
nisés, donc ritualisés et codiiés, … engendrent des espaces, produits par e pour
leurs gestes.”61 his space, produced by actions, is not empty: “L’espace n’est pas
seulement l’espace du ‘non’ mais celui du corps, par conséquent celui du ‘oui’,
du vivre”.62 He even makes the important statement: “Le vide se révèle plein”.63
Space already exists, and is full; the structure protects this space and articulates
its communication with the outside world. Lefebvre also distinguishes between
big and small movements. In the study of a building, it would be reasonable to
state that the structures must obey the big movements, while smaller move-
ments obey structures. Understanding which movements have determined the
shape of a building can help understanding which movements and actions, in
the complex articulation of a liturgical celebration, were considered “big” or
particularly important, and which were less important. his approach leads the
58 G. C. Menis, “Il battesimo ad Aquileia nella prima metà del IV secolo”, 701–708, ig. 2; cfr
discussione critica in Ristow, Frühchristliche Baptisterien, 24.
59 R. Laurence, “Space and Text”; Laurence, Roman Pompeii: Space and Society.
60 H. Lefebvre, La production de l’espace.
61 Ibid., 249.
62 Ibid., 233.
63 Ibid. 258.
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