The Armenian Quarter begins just inside the Jaffa Gate, Old City, Jerusalem.
The Silent Sentinel of the Armenian Quarter
Tucked away in the narrow streets of Jerusalem’s Armenian Quarter is the Cathedral of Saint James—part of a monastery-seminary complex that still serves the faithful today. It is a rare gem: one of the few 12th-century structures to have weathered the ravages of time. To find James the Great here, you must probe the Cathedral’s depths of blue tiles, wall paintings, and carved stone crosses (khatchkars).
Why here? Tradition holds that the head of James the Great is buried on this spot, marked by six lamps, an ornate vault, and an overhead dome.
I’m currently far from Jerusalem, sitting in Camponaraya, Spain. But if I close my eyes, I can still smell the Holy City’s incense—along with a few other odors I can’t forget.
James the Great was beheaded in Jerusalem. Image from here. Accessed 7/21/2018.
A Tale of Two Burials: Jerusalem vs. Spain
We know James was beheaded in Jerusalem (Acts 12:1-2), and logically, he would have been buried where he was killed. Who would go to the trouble of moving a body? Especially a messy one?
Ah, but this where it gets interesting. A medieval tradition suggests that that is exactly what happened. Here in Spain they call it the Traslación del Apóstol Santiago. Elsewhere it is called "The Golden Legend."
In our previous post, “What Happened to James the Great,” (you can read it here) we noted that Western tradition (though not Scripture) suggests James visited Spain during his life. The Traslación is the story of his second journey to Spain—in death. This took place in the decade or so between the crucifixion of Christ and James's execution.
A facsimile of the Codex Calixtinus on display at Santiago's Museum of Pilgrimage.
The Codex Calixtinus: A Medieval Rick Steves
This idea springs from a medieval “mishmash” called the Codex Calixtinus. How this compilation of songs and sermons came to be is a woolly matter beyond my energy to comb, but it reached its final form in the mid-12th century. It arrived just in time to offer authoritative advice (à la Rick Steves in wooden shoes) to pilgrims seeking the “Way of Saint James.”
Politics, Pilgrimage, and the Fall of the Levant
The timing of this guide invites speculation. I wonder if the Camino phenomenon was a response to the increasing difficulty of reaching the Levant. By the mid-12th century, the First Crusade had stalled; even Richard the Lionheart couldn’t reclaim the momentum (see here for our experience of the Crusader's "Alamo" of 1187). As the Holy Sites of the East slipped out of reach, the West provided a challenging but achievable target.
There may have been a political motive under the table, too. The effort of the Calixtinus established the primacy of Santiago de Compostela over all other Spanish churches. Possessing apostolic remains can do wonders for your portfolio.
Driven by these motivators, James went west—at least in proclamation. The echo was clear: As he went, so should you.
This image shows the body of James (complete with head) being transported on a boat (also complete with sail and rudder). His disciples gather around. This scene is a part of a presentation found on the Altar of St James (silver, 1287–1456), Pistoia Cathedral (Cattedrale di San Zeno). Image from here.
The Impossible Voyage: A Stone Boat and a Hard Turn
The outline of this post-mortem journey is simple: long ago, disciples moved James’s body from Palestine to a remote corner of Galicia (the "end of the earth") via supernatural help. Reburial and subsequent miracles confirmed the finger of God was at work.
That’s the gist, but don't look too closely at the details. They get untidy.
This multiple-scened depiction shows the body of James being moved from Palestine (far left) to the Iberian Peninsula (far right). Note that James's head is still attached. Pooh on the Armenian claim! Image from here (accessed 7/21/2018).
Take the journey itself: Disciples supposedly snuck the body out of Jerusalem to the port of Jaffa under cover of darkness. There, they found a boat of stone. Wait—a stone boat? Really? Did it have a stone ballast, or was the hull itself granite? Could first-century craftsmen overcome the displacement issues of a stone boat on the high seas?*
Supposedly, the stone boat crossed the Mediterranean without sail or rudder, gliding “upon the bosom of the flowing water” for 2,000 miles.** It passed the Pillars of Hercules (Gibraltar Strait), took a hard turn to starboard, and landed on the Atlantic coast. Local disciples tied it to a large rock (pedrón) and carried James inland. They placed him on a bed of solid stone—which promptly swallowed the body—and the site was lost for the next 800 years.
That is truly legendary stuff.
I just feel a bit bad for the Armenians in Jerusalem. They have the spot, but they don’t have nearly as good a story.
Buen Camino!
"Hove a dusky barge dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern."*** The death-journey of James the Great has the feel of a knightly romance. Once cannot read the story of his boat gliding pilotlessly across the sea without recalling scenes from Arthurian legends, the account of Elaine of Astolat, or even Tolkien's funeral scene of Boromir. This image was found here and accessed 7/26/2018.
*Need to do some homework here. It is possible that James's story here is mixed with Celtic legends that describe the last journey of ancient heroes. Their journey went west into the deep Atlantic Ocean in a stone boat.
**Nod here to Tolkien's description of the death of Boromir in The Lord of The Rings (Book V, Chapter 4).
***Another nod. This one goes to Alfred Tennyson and his poem on the death of Arthur. See the full text here.
Eager to get back out there? So are we!
If you are interested in seeing wine country with your own eyes, you really should join Mark and Vicki for a Mediterranean cruise! Click the link here for a future travel schedule. We visit biblical sites on the Mediterranean rim and contemplate places where the grape, olive, and fig still hold celebrity status.