Download PDF | (The Ottoman Empire and its heritage 23) Oded Peri - Christianity Under Islam in Jerusalem_ The Question of the Holy Sites in Early Ottoman Times-Brill Academic Publishers (2001).
232 Pages
FOREWORD
Christianity, a religion based upon theophanies, or sacred past events, attaches numinous significance to the sites at which these divine miracles are said to have occurred. Many of these sites are found in and near Jerusalem, the scene of the most eminent and fundamental mysteries. Moreover, the most sanctified and revered sites associated with the more significant and constitutive events upon which Christianity is based are situated in and near Jerusalem. These are the Nativity in Bethlehem and the Crucifixion, Sepulchering and Resurrection in Jerusalem. These sites, having been monumentalized by sumptuous basilicas, evolved into the most sacred shrines of the entire Christian world. As such, these sites became an object of desire for Christians everywhere; a goal of visitation as well as aspirations of attachment, possession and control. From the moment that Christianity split into different churches and rites, these aspirations came into conflict. The Holy Sites Question (as this situation has come to be known) is the complex result of the inter-church conflict over these sanctuaries and the political authorities’ attempts to handle the issue. Another set of problems associated with the Question and contributing to its complexity is derived from the fact that these sites— Christianity’s holiest shrines—have for centuries been under the political rule of non-Christian powers, and in the case discussed here, under Islamic Ottoman rule.
There exists a large body of literature regarding the Holy Sites Question under Ottoman rule. Most of this scholarship, however, concentrates on the period when the Question of the Holy Sites had already evolved from a local Ottoman problem into an international issue, or one of the elements in the diplomatic complexity which came to be known as the “Eastern Question”. The decline of Ottoman strength spurred the European powers into a scramble to become the weakening Empire’s heirs. By the mid-eighteenth century, the Holy Sites Question was enfolded into this struggle and became one of its major issues. In the process, this question was gradually displaced from the exclusive care of the Ottoman government, which was forced to accept the dictates of foreign powers. The Question of the Holy Sites now became an all-European problem, whose solutions were generally conceived outside the Ottoman Empire and then forced upon it by international forums. This process, which culminated in the Treaty of Berlin (1878), has been described in detail in contemporary and later literature.
Very few studies have touched upon the Question of the Holy Sites in earlier times, when the Ottoman Empire was still the dominant power in Europe, and none of these supphes any satisfactory description, let alone explanation, of Ottoman policy concerning this complex and multifaceted issue. So the question remains: What was Ottoman policy with respect to the Holy Sites during the first two centuries of Ottoman rule in Jerusalem? In other words: How did the Ottoman authorities deal with the Holy Sites Question when it was an internal problem of local character, and when these authorities were able to propose independent and original solutions free of foreign interference and outside pressures? The main purpose of the present study is to attempt to answer this question which involves legal, religious, economic and political issues.
As far as is known, this is the first attempt to systematically explore Ottoman policy in the Question of the Holy Sites in the period preceding its transformation into a major international issue. Previous works devote at best a chapter or two to a cursory discussion of the Holy Sites Question during the first two centuries of Ottoman rule in Jerusalem. More problematic, most of these works were actually written on behalf of interested parties deeply involved in the conflict over the Holy Sites, making them too biased to be reliable sources of information on the issue. More scholarly works devoted to the study of a specific church in Jerusalem under Ottoman rule also tend to be equally one-sided. Naturally, for the most part these works draw on source material at the disposal of the church they study and tend to neglect other sources. Consequently, these studies present the Holy Sites Question from a narrow sectarian perspective, which is at best unbalanced, if not actually distorted. In short, the present inventory of publications on the Question of the Holy Sites in early Ottoman times is lacking in both quantity and quality. That leaves the subject in need of a serious research referring to the most relevant, and yet hitherto unused, sources~-the official Ottoman records.
Logically, official Ottoman correspondence would seem to be the best place to investigate Ottoman official policy on the Question of the Holy Sites. Major collections of documents embodying Ottoman correspondence with regard to this question are found in the registers of the kad?’s court in Jerusalem; in the Basbakanhk Arsivi in Istanbul; and in the archives of certain churches adjoining the Holy Sites.
The registers of the Ottoman kad?’s court in Jerusalem, presently stored at the local sharia court, are probably the most important source for the study of the region’s history under Ottoman rule. The registers consist of records of the court’s daily proceedings, called syill. In early Ottoman times, these records touched upon a wide variety of issues encompassing all aspects of life in the city and its surrounding area. For the most part, these records contain copies of imperial decrees (firmans) dispatched from Istanbul, as well as protocols of the court’s legal and notarial activities. Many of these records deal with various matters concerning the Holy Sites.
The Prime Ministry’s Archive (Basbakanhk Arsivi) in Istanbul should in principle have copies of firmans and other documents dispatched from the Ottoman capital to Jerusalem, where they were copied into the syll. In practice, however, it is possible to come across copies of many such documents which for reasons unknown did not make it to Jerusalem and were not copied into the sgill. It is likewise possible to find in the Basbakanlik Arsivi records of intraor inter-ministerial correspondence which were not sent to Jerusalem although they discussed the city’s particular affairs. This archive is therefore an indispensable complement of material found in local sills.
Original firmans are supposed to be stored at the archives of the Christian church hierarchies in Jerusalem, which in many cases were the applicants for, and therefore the recipients of, these decrees, after the kad: had copied them into his sgzls. Here too, it is possible to find documents which were not, after all, copied into the syull. Unfortunately, these archives are not readily accessible for scholarly research. Of all the church hierarchies in Jerusalem, the Greek Orthodox patriarchate was the only one to grant my request to study their archive of Ottoman fimans. Other hierarchies have been too sensitive about their archives, which are still unavailable for unhindered research.
Wherever found, it is reasonable to expect that Ottoman official records would reliably reflect Ottoman official policy in any particular field. This policy, as far as it dealt with the Question of the Holy Sites, has long been shrouded in mystery nurtured largely by the prejudices of churches involved in the internecine struggle over the possession and use of these shrines. This work is an attempt to dispel some of this mystery through the study of official Ottoman records. With the help of these records, I try to establish whether Ottoman rule had a clearly defined policy on the Question of the Holy Sites, and what were its principles, manifestations and goals during the period under discussion. It is hoped that the answers given here to these questions will supply the key to decode and better understand one of the most obscure and controversial issues in the history of Ottoman Jerusalem.
This book has its origins in a Ph.D. dissertation prepared at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. My thanks are, first and foremost, due to Prof. Amnon Cohen who has attentively supervised my work. His constant advice, encouragement and help were invaluable. My access to the syzll registers of the shari@ court in Jerusalem was made possible through the kindness of the late Shaykh Sa‘d al-Din al‘Alami, former Mufti and Head of the Supreme Islamic Council for Palestine. I regret that I cannot convey my gratitude to him in person. My gratitude is also due to the ga@dis at the court, as well as the staff headed by Mr. Zayn al-Din al-‘Alami, who were always friendly, hospitable and helpful. The syzl/ registers of the shat‘a court in Jerusalem were the most important source for this work. Another important source was the Basbakanhk Arsivi in Istanbul. I wish to thank its staff for their assistance and hospitality. In addition to these archives, I was given a genuinely unique opportunity to study the collection of original Ottoman firmans owned by the Greek Orthodox patriarchate in Jerusalem. I wish to thank His Eminence Patriarch Diodoros I and his secretary, Archimandrite Timotheos, who overcame the myriad of sensitivities which as yet prevent other churches in Jerusalem from making their archives available for scholarly research. Access to archives was a precondition for writing this book. This book could not have been accomplished without the financial and other vital assistance offered by the following institutions: The Harry S. ‘Truman Institute for the Advancement of Peace, the Yitzhak Ben-Zvi Institute, Yad Hanadiv, the Hebrew University, and the American Research Institute in Turkey. It is my pleasant duty to thank them all. Last but not least, I owe a heavy debt of gratitude to my wife, Ilana. Her readiness to share in my grappling with every hardship along the way gave me the power to persevere and bring this work to end.
Jerusalem, 2000 Oded Peri
NOTE ON TRANSLITERATION
Names, dates, and terms in Ottoman Turkish, as well as direct quotations from Ottoman documents, are invariably rendered in modern Turkish transliteration. In applying this system of transliteration, I overlook the fact that most of the vocabulary in use for Ottoman Turkish names, dates, terms and texts originates in Arabic. In few cases where transliteration from Arabic was necessary, the system used by the International Fournal of Middle East Studies is followed.
CHAPTER ONE
THE BASIC CONSTITUENTS OF THE HOLY SITES QUESTION IN EARLY OTTOMAN TIMES
In 1929, introducing a paper on the Status Quo in the Holy Places Sir Charles H. Luke, Chief Secretary to the Government of BritishMandate Palestine, wrote:
It is probably true to say that no question more constantly exercised the Moslem rulers of Palestine and took up more of their time than the ever recurring difficulties and disputes arising out of the circumstance that the Christian Holy Places in Jerusalem and Bethlehem were not in one ownership but were shared and served by several communities.
Overstated as this observation may sound, it does point to the basic ingredients of a centuries-old complexity which came to be known as the Question of the Holy Sites. These were (a) the Holy Sites themselves; (b) the Christian communities sharing or serving those sites; and (c) the Islamic rule under whose tutelage the Holy Sites were being shared or served by the various Christian rites. Acquiring a general idea about these basic factors is essential if one is to pursue an in-depth study of the Question of the Holy Sites. Also, insofar as such study is focused, like this one, on the early Ottoman period, one has to consider the pre-Ottoman legacy of this particular question as well, that is, the historical developments from the time when its basic constituents coalesced through to the beginning of the Ottoman era. The discussion of these preliminary issues is the main purpose of the present chapter.
A. Tue Hoty SIrTeEs
The proclamation of Christianity by Emperor Constantine (313-337) as the official religion of the Roman Empire stirred up a wave of religious enthusiasm. One of its foremost manifestations was a stateinitiated effort to locate, consecrate and monumentalize sites associated with the myths of Christ’s life in the Holy Land. This effort involved the erection of churches, monasteries and similar religious edifices over these sites. At the same time, certain traditions coalesced and were codified in an effort to substantiate the sanctity of these sites and to encourage worship at, and pilgrimage to, them. Understandably, the sites most affected by this pious enterprise were those directly associated with the traditions of Christ’s Nativity in Bethlehem and the Crucifixion, Sepulchering, and Resurrection in Jerusalem. These sites were memorialized by impressive church buildings far more sumptuous and colossal than all other surrounding structures. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem became the foremost loci of Christian adoration and pilgrimage. The distinct prominence of these two churches was not eroded by the vicissitudes of time; rather it was enhanced as the years went by. By the early sixteenth century, when the Holy Land became part of the Ottoman Empire, these two sites had already had behind them over a millennium of continuity as Christianity’s holiest shrines.
1. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem The Church of the Holy Sepulchre which the Ottoman conquerors
encountered in Jerusalem was no longer the original complex of devotional and commemorative monuments erected in 335 by Emperor Constantine to mark the sites of Crucifixion, Sepulchering and Resurrection. That church had since been ruined, rebuilt and remodeled several times before the Crusaders gave it, in the mid-twelfth century, the essentially contemporary shape preserved through to the Ottoman era and the present day.’
Modest as it must have looked in comparison to its Byzantine antecedent, the Crusader Church of the Holy Sepulchre was, and still is, nevertheless a complex and impressive structure that includes a great number of commemoration points and sacred sites. A plan of that structure, largely relevant to the Ottoman period, is given in Chart 1.
The two principal and most important sites enshrined in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre are the Rock of Golgotha—the place of Crucifixion, and the Sepulchre itself—the place of Resurrection. These two sites are hallowed as the holiest places in Christendom, and from them the Church of the Holy Sepulchre derives most of its sanctity and renown. The rest of the holy sites therein are for the most part of secondary significance mainly derived from indirect association with the foundation myths of the Sepulchre and Golgotha.
The site identified by Christian tradition as Christ’s Sepulchre is situated in the western wing of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, inside a U-shaped structure (Edicule) which opens eastwards (1). This structure is placed at the center of a round, mausolean hall (Rotunda) surrounded by a two-story gallery and roofed by a huge dome (2). At the back of the Edicule, attached to its western end, is a small chapel in the possession of the Coptic church (3). Still further to the west, attached to and under the church’s westernmost end, are a chapel (4) and underground prayer niches (5) dedicated to St. Nicodemus and Joseph Arimathae who according to the gospels were owners of the Sepulchre grounds.
About ten yards south-east of the Rotunda is where Christian traditions point to the Calvary, also known as Golgotha (6). This site is memorialized by a two-story structure consisting of three vaulted chapels. The most venerated part, the Chapel of Crucifixion (7), has its eastern side laid upon the natural rock which, according to Christian tradition, is the actual spot where the Cross was placed. Adjoining this chapel from south is another one memorializing the scene of Christ’s Nailing to the Cross (8). Both chapels are built on the upper level of Golgotha. A third chapel, built on the lower level right beneath the Chapel of Crucifixion, is dedicated to the memory of Adam (10), the skull of whom is purported by Christian tradition to be buried under the Rock of Crucifixion. No canonizing tradition has been associated with the vault beneath the Chapel of Nailing to the Cross, which is therefore used as mere sacristy.
The main prayer hall (Katholikon) (11) within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre extends to the east of the Rotunda, north of Golgotha. It has the shape of typical nave in Romanesque style churches. The Katholikon is surmounted by an impressive dome looming (next to the Rotunda dome) over the point where the transept crosses the nave. The South Transept (12) harbors the Stone of Unction (13)—according to the gospels the place where the corpse of Christ was anointed in preparation for burial.. The North Transept (14) is distinguished by an old colonnade. A remnant of the Byzantine Church of the Holy Sepulchre, this colonnade came to be known as the Virgin’s Seven Arches (15) owing to both architectural layout and identification as the place of Christ’s Apparition following the Resurrection.
A semi-circular corridor (Ambulatory) (17), flanking the Katholikon from east, opens into several chapels memorializing various scenes of Christ’s Passion (18, 19, 20). A staircase leads down from that corridor into an underground chapel dedicated to Helena (21), mother of Emperor Constantine, to whom Christian literature ascribe a major role in the discovery of the Sepulchre and Golgotha. Thence, another staircase leads further down into another chapel built in a cave where the said Helena had purportedly unearthed the “True Cross” (22).
The northern wing of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre served during the Crusades as headquarters of the Latin Patriarchate in Jerusalem. By Ottoman times that complex was survived by a Franciscan monastery (23) and a chapel memorializing the Apparition (24). The southern wing includes the parvis (25) and the main entrance to the church (26). The parvis is densely surrounded by chapels, monasteries and similar religious buildings dedicated to the memory of various Christian saints (27-34).
Originally, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre contained only two sites revered as holy: the Sepulchre and Golgotha. As the centuries passed, various traditions evolved which raised the number of sites hallowed within the church to over sixty.® The association of this place with the most basic and significant tenets of Christianity has undoubtedly encouraged such phenomenon. No less important was the eventful history of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which in a cyclic sequence of ruin and restoration caused substantial changes in the architecture of the church and in the functional setup of its various parts. In this respect, the history of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is quite different from that of the second holiest site in Christendom, the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
2. The Church of the Natwity in Bethlehem
The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem is the only church throughout the Holy Land preserved practically in its original form since Byzantine times.’ The church is a typical basilica including a nave flanked by colonnaded aisles. The basilical structure is supplemented from the east by a set of three apses arranged in a trefoil combination. This Architectural layout is markedly noticeable in Chart 2 presenting the plan of the Church of the Nativity as seen by European visitors in the early Ottoman period.’
The sanctity of the Nativity Church in Bethlehem centers on a subterranean cavern identified as the Grotto of the Nativity (1). The Grotto constitutes the church’s crypt and is situated directly beneath the point where the transept crosses the nave. The exact point of Christ’s birthplace is marked by an altar (2) ensconced in a little niche. Another niche neighboring that altar harbors the Manger (3) where Christ was cradled after birth.’
The space above the Grotto and within the church itself serves as the choir (4). Stairways located on both sides thereof (5) lead down to the Grotto. The Grotto is also accessible from the west through a subterranean passageway that starts at the Franciscan Cloister (19). The choir forms part of the church’s central apse where the main altar (6) stands. Secondary altars (7) stand at the southern and northern apses. The church’s nave (8) and aisles (9) extend to the west of the choir. On to the west are the church’s narthex (11), main entrance (12), and parvis (13).
The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem is densely surrounded by monasteries, pilgrim hostels, and oratories of several Christian denominations (14-19). This is also true for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Hallowed as the most sacred sites in Christendom, these two churches became an object of tenacious attachment for all Christians regardless of affiliation or rite.
B. THe CuristiAN ComMMuniries AROUND THE HO ty SIres
The presence of the most venerated Christian holy sites in and near Jerusalem has accounted for the gathering of a variegated Christian population in that part of the world. During the sixteenth century this population was surveyed several times as part of the general land and population censuses taken for taxation purposes by the new masters of Palestine, the Ottoman Turks. Different from today’s idea of statistical surveys, the sixteenth-century Ottoman censuses, known as tahrir, can still provide us with valuable quantitative information as to the demography and the basic social and economic features of the population surveyed.’ Their historical value is all the more important in view of the fact that im Palestine no such teknrs were taken for a long time after the sixteenth century. Without them, and in the absence of any other sources of their kind, attempts to add a quantitative dimension to the study of the social and economic history of, say, Jerusalem for any given time between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries would probably end in a frustrating dead end.
As far as the Christian and Jewish inhabitants of Jerusalem are concerned, one could hope to get over this gap of quantitative information by drawing on the records of the poll-tax (cizye) which under Islamic law they had to pay yearly to the Ottoman state treasury. Cizye collection records pertaining to post-sixteenth-century Jerusalem are certain to be found in the registers of the local kad?s court or those of the Poll-Tax Accounting Department (cizye muhasebest kalemt) of the Ottoman treasury in Istanbul. A closer scrutiny of these records may reveal, however, that in most cases they were little more than mere reproductions of the same synoptic data to be found in the old tahnr registers, taking little note, if any, of the substantial changes which the population they were assessing for taxation must have undergone in the meantime. Thus, even the cizye records, from which much could be hoped and expected, turn out to be of little help as they evidently were not the results of actual and updated censuses.
In this unpromising context one can hardly overstate the importance and the potential research possibilities embodied in Register 3643 of the Ottoman treasury." It is a poll-tax collection report. Yet it is completely different from its seventeenth-century antecedents considering the special circumstances which precipitated it, the conscientious process by which it was accomplished, and most importantly— the quantity, the quality and credibility of the data it incorporated. The register, an 84-page volume, includes extensively detailed and seemingly updated accounts of the poll-tax and its non-Muslim payers residing in certain parts of Palestine—mainly in Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity—in the latter part of the seventeenth century. It was part of a comprehensive plan conceived by the central government in Istanbul to reform the fiscal affairs of the Ottoman Empire.'? On 23 March 1691, an imperial decree was issued prescribing new regulations for improving the ways to collect the cizye, so as to augment the revenues deriving from this source. Naturally, the first and foremost of these regulations ordered the taking of a new, updated survey of the population liable for the poll-tax throughout the Ottoman Empire.”
The document entitled “Register of the Poll-Tax Owed by the Infidels in the District of Jerusalem for the Year 1102 [1690-91]” is a direct product of the fulfillment of those regulations in Palestine. It lists the records of some 1800 cezye-payers, the great majority of whom were Christians living in Jerusalem and in the nearby, semirural towns of Bethlehem and Beyt Jala. The details of each and every individual taken by the survey are meticulously noted including his name and father’s name, dwelling-place, physical appearance, occupation, religious denomination, and tax rate. In terms of historiography, the compilation of such data in a single document like this one is of tremendous value. Given the general dearth of reliable statistical data relevant to the study of Ottoman history between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries, what this document seems to offer is a unique opportunity to reconstruct and sketch in broad quantitative lines a demographic, social and economic portrait of the Christian population of Jerusalem and its vicinity in the latter part of the seventeenth century.'*
1. General Demographic Data
The first question to ask in a study in social and economic history would be: what was the size of the population concerned? Ascertaming the size of a given community and tracing its changes over time are an essential starting-point for the interpretation of various historical facts. Hence, the first question to ask at this point is how many Christians lived in Jerusalem in the early Ottoman period, and what changes occurred in their number?
Despite the remarkable richness of its data and their apparent credibility, it is in fact impossible to establish the exact number of Jerusalem Christians on the basis of the aforementioned register. ‘The reason for this lies in the fact that those behind the survey, which preceded the making of this register, did not mean, after all, to launch a full-scale population census, but to build a useful and updated list of tax-paying subjects. And since the tax involved was the czzye, this survey was concerned only with that part of the nonMuslim population which was Ottoman, free, male, adult, and able to earn a livelihood. In other words, a good part of the population consisting of women, children, aged, needy or disabled people, as well as slaves and foreign subjects, was excluded from the survey and is therefore missing from the register. Needless to say, the absence of these elements leaves a considerable gap of information, and this may naturally affect the prospects of coming up with accurate demographic estimates.
Surprisingly enough, Christian men of religion, priests and monks, are also missing from the Jerusalem poll-tax register, despite the fact that the order of 1691 had explicitly abolished the customary taxexempt status enjoyed by people of this class. This phenomenon is all the more puzzling in view of the fact that in other places affected by the order of 1691, Christian clergymen were actually listed among those liable for the tax, with the Ottoman government dismissing outright all their protests and claims about worship being their trade, asceticism their way of life, and charity their only means to survive.’® It is unclear why the same government agreed to re-exempt the Christian clergymen of Jerusalem from the poll-tax on the basis of their using these very same pretexts.'° However, it is clear that due to Ottoman policy in this regard, there is nothing to be learned from the poll-tax register of 1690-91 regarding the leading segment of the Christian population in and around Jerusalem. It is therefore necessary to make do with the study of the rank and file of the local Christian population which was, after all, the human “hinterland” of these religious leaders.
Table 1 sums up the number of Christians assessed for the polltax in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Beyt Jala on the basis of the survey of 1691. The figures are juxtaposed with older data of the same kind obtained from the Palestinian fahrir registers for 970 (1562-63), which were the last of this series to contain contemporary statistical information about the Christians living in and around Jerusalem.” A third column is added displaying the results of comparing the two sets of figures.
The picture emerging from Table 1 could be the basis for further observations regarding the demography of the population studied. In fact, however, this picture will prove misleading if the data is taken at face-value, without further modification. Although the figures pertaining to both the mid-sixteenth and the late seventeenth centuries refer invariably to tax-paying Christians, the method applied for the purpose of their tax assessment was not always the same. Whereas in the mid-sixteenth century, all taxes were levied per household, the poll-tax in the late seventeenth century was levied per head.!* Any such change in the taxation method would undoubtedly have entailed a parallel change in the size of the taxable population, and this should be taken into account in every demographic calculation based on the number of tax-payers. So before proceeding any further, one has to decide whether the picture drawn by Table | is an indication of a demographic trend, or simply the result of a fiscal policy change.
This being the question concerning Table 1, its data should be standardized, or put on an equal basis, so that comparing columns one and two would yield more realistic and reliable results. One possible way of doing this is to try and estimate how many people should be represented by a given number of taxpayers. Research on the Palestinian tahnr registers is based on the assumption that in order to come up with fair demographic estimates, all taxable families recorded as hane should be multiplied by a coefficient of six, which supposedly represented the size of an average household.'? To the amount thus obtained one should add the net number of the bachelor (miicerred) taxpayers mentioned specifically as such in the same registers.” This routine may well work with the tax records of the mid-sixteenth century. It does not work with the poll-tax records of the late seventeenth century, where the tax was assessed individually, without any attention paid to the functionally irrelevant, and therefore unmentioned, marital status of the taxpayer. Here the question is what was the approximate proportion between the taxed and the untaxed segments of the population under study. The figures provided by the late Professor Uriel Heyd, who studied Jerusalem’s Jewish population on the basis of the same register as that studied here, contain the plausible assumption that this proportion may have been one poll-tax payer for every four or five people.’ Multiplying the number of post-1690 poll-tax payers with an adjusted coefficient of 4.5, may therefore result in a more dependable assessment of the number of Christians living in Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity in the latter part of the seventeenth century.” These standardized data may now be re-compared with their parallels of the mid-sixteenth century. The results are shown in Table 2, and Graphs 1, 2, and 3.
The most striking phenomenon reflected by these data is that while the Christian population in both Bethlehem and Beyt Jala decreased significantly between the mid-sixteenth and the late seventeenth centuries, that of Jerusalem recorded an impressive growth. This (necessarily tentative) observation might serve to suggest that the Christian population studied was undergoing a process of urbanization, probably the result of internal immigration from the semi-rural (and also presumably from the rural) periphery of Jerusalem to the nearby “metropolis”. Evidence of this demographic trend is already borne by the éahnr registers for Jerusalem in the mid-sixteenth century: there are records of Christian taxpayers specifically mentioned as newcomers to Jerusalem from villages nearby. Moreover, the largest groups of these immigrants seem to have come either from Bethlehem or Beyt Jala. Out of 315 Christian taxpayers recorded in 1562-63 in Jerusalem, 27 originated in Bethlehem, and 22 in Beyt Jala.” It is possible to figure out what Graph 2 and its relation to Graph 3 would have looked like if these were numbered along with their original communities.
The records of the poll-tax owed in Jerusalem for the year 1690-91 do not contain systematic information regarding the origins of the taxpayers. However, it is possible to conclude from a comparison of Graph 3 to Graph 2 that the urbanization of Jerusalem’s Christian population persisted through the seventeenth century. It emerges from this comparison that between the mid-sixteenth and the late seventeenth centuries the relative share of Jerusalem’s Christians rose from approximately 50 to 70 percent of the studied population, presumably at the expense of Bethlehem and Beyt Jala whose relative shares had dropped from approximately 20 and 30 percent respectively to approximately 16 percent each. On the whole, the Christian population in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Beyt Jala increased by 12 percent. The lack of parallel data concerning the Christian population in the rural environs of Jerusalem excludes the possibility of ascertaining whether the whole Christian population in and around Jerusalem was really multiplying, or merely urbanizing.
2. Numenc Power Relations
Although in Muslim eyes all unbelievers constitute one nation (“‘kefere taifest millet-1 vahide”), the Ottomans were wise enough to mind the religious and sectarian differences dividing the vast non-Muslim population under their rule. They further absorbed this differentiation into their governing policies. Traces of this preference are discernible in the studied poll-tax register, where the religious and sectarian affiliation of every assessee is assiduously noted, although this notification seems to have had no bearing on his tax assessment. The result of this assiduity provides an opportunity to follow the sectarian breakdown of the Christian population in Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity in the latter part of the seventeenth century.
Based on these data, Table 3 shows the sectarian breakdown of the Christian taxpayers in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Beyt Jala in 1690-91. Assuming that the sectarian breakdown of the taxpayers should mirror that of the studied population as a whole, it is possible to establish the relative share of each of the Christian sects. Either way, it is obvious that the overwhelming majority of the Christians living in seventeenth-century Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity—around 70 percent—were adherents of the Greek Orthodox church. This is not surprising in view of the fact that most Christians living in Syria and Palestine, if not in the Ottoman Empire as a whole, belonged to this particular church. Their share in the studied population far surpassed that of the Armenians (approximately 15 percent), who were the second largest Christian sect. The shares of the other Christian sects were much smaller still.
Furthermore, nearly half of the Greek Orthodox community lived outside Jerusalem, either in Bethlehem or in Beyt Jala, while the other Christian communities were represented in Jerusalem only. The Christian lay population of Bethlehem and Beyt Jala seems to have been wholly Greek Orthodox, but this was not always the case. It is very likely that in earlier times the Christian population of Jerusalem’s semi-rural vicinity had been more complex, and that the demographic reality reflected by the 1690-91 poll-tax register was largely the result of the urbanization process which this population had undergone. Evidence of this, at least as far as the Armenians were concerned, may be found in private papers kept by their church. These documents suggest that once there had been a strong Armenian presence in Bethlehem, but in the first half of the seventeenth century this presence disappeared completely.” It is very likely that many of the Armenians represented by these documents had left Bethlehem and moved to Jerusalem. However, as this demographic development would have had negative implications for the Armenian rights in the Church of the Nativity, strenuous efforts were made by the Armenian patriarchate of Jerusalem to restore the Armenian presence in Bethlehem. These efforts bore no fruit until the second half of the nineteenth century.”
At this point, the idea of comparing the findings of Table 3 with the comparable data of the mid-sixteenth century comes readily to mind. There is one problem, however, which may narrow the scope of such a comparison, which is the lack of information regarding the religious affiliations of the Christians living outside Jerusalem in the mid-sixteenth century. Unlike the poll-tax register of 1690-91, the tahnr registers of 1562-63 provide no information on this matter, and refer only to the Christians of Jerusalem. This means that the sectarian identity of the Christians living in Bethlehem and Beyt Jala in the mid-sixteenth century is not known. Moreover, nor are the religious affiliations of the Christians who had moved from these places to Jerusalem specified. There is no choice, then, but to limit the scope of the proposed comparison to Jerusalem alone. Of course, the same standardization routine applied for Table 2 is applicable in this case too. The results are shown in Table 4 and in Graphs 4, 5, and 6.
The data displayed there allow for several quantitative observations. First, it is noteworthy that the relative share of the Greek Orthodox remained in the late seventeenth century almost the same as in the mid-sixteenth century, notwithstanding the fact that their number had doubled during that period. This was, at least in part, the result of simultaneous demographic developments that affected the other Christian communities. Of these, the Armenians seem to have undergone the most impressive change. By the late seventeenth century the Armenians of Jerusalem more than tripled surpassing the Copts as the second largest Christian sect. The Copts meanwhile lost nearly two thirds of their number. Their share in the Christian population of Jerusalem, which in the mid-sixteenth century was over twenty percent, dropped by the late seventeenth century to four percent. The Copts of Jerusalem were thus reduced to the fifth largest Christian sect. The impressive growth of the Armenian community in Jerusalem may be partially explained by the above-described process of its urbanization. The parallel decline experienced by the Coptic community of Jerusalem is attributed by historians of that community to the difficulties suffered by its mother-church in Egypt, due to successive years of reduced Nile flooding, famine and subsequent political disorder that befell that country during the second half of the seventeenth century.” The Coptic decline helped the Jacobite Syrians, whose number rose in the meantime by some fifty percent, to improve their standing in Jerusalem becoming the third largest Christian sect. On the whole, the basic ratio between the Greek Orthodox and the rest of Jerusalem’s Christians (put together) did not change much. Apart from the developments described above, this ratio must have been affected also by the emergence of some new Christian communities in Jerusalem, namely the Maronites and the Roman Catholics.”
The formation of an indigenous Roman Catholic community in Jerusalem is rather interesting in view of the fact that for a long time before and after the Ottoman conquest Roman Catholicism was represented there by a handful of Franciscan monks who were foreign, not Ottoman, subjects. The emergence of a local Catholic community consisting of Ottoman subjects derived from two possible sources: One source would be indigenous Eastern-rite Christians who converted to Catholicism; the other would be Latin pilgrims who, choosing to stay in Jerusalem for good, assumed the status of tax-paying zimmis. ‘The records of those identified as Roman Catholics in Jerusalem’s poll-tax register reveal that most had typical Arabophone names,”® which may allude to their indigenous Eastern-rite origins. The names of the rest are written in distorted or illegible form, which was sometimes the case with Ottoman scribes struggling with transcriptions of European names. Most of Jerusalem’s lay Catholics, then, seem to have been Eastern Christian converts. Their appearance in Jerusalem was apparently the result of Latin missionary activity, conducted throughout the seventeenth century by Franciscan and Jesuit monks, mainly among the lay Greek Orthodox inhabitants of Bethlehem.”” Ottoman statistics suggest, however, that by the late seventeenth century the number of these converts was smaller than may be inferred from contemporary Latin reports,*® or the enraged protests made by the Greek Orthodox patriarchate in Jerusalem to the Ottoman government in Istanbul.*?
The Maronites embraced Catholicism en masse as early as the twelfth century. Their not entirely insignificant presence in seventeenth-century Jerusalem is somewhat surprising, for they received no attention at all in contemporary Christian sources, giving the impression that Maronites were nonexistent there as an established community. Perhaps the reason for this total disregard was the fact that the Maronites were the only Christian community in Jerusalem without any possessions whatsoever in the Holy Sites—by far the principal theme in the writings of Christian pilgrims to the Holy Land. The Maronites, however, kept close relations with the Roman Catholics with whom they were in denominational communion.” Taken together, these two communities could form in Jerusalem a local Catholic bloc that would make it the third largest Christian group.
In contrast to the Maronites, the Ethiopian community in Jerusalem is known to have had historical rights in the Holy Sites, and is therefore accorded ample attention in the accounts of Christian pilgrims to the Holy Land. However, the Ethiopian community of Jerusalem s not represented in this study. The reason for this lies in the fact that Jerusalem’s Ethiopians have never constituted a lay tax-paying community. The twenty Ethiopians recorded in Jerusalem’s ¢tahrir register for 1562-63 were all tax-free clergymen.** Moreover, this monastic presence had been dwindling since then until, succumbing to a plague, it vanished altogether.** So by the late seventeenth century, the time in which the poll-tax register was being processed, there was no-one from this community left in Jerusalem.
The Georgians and the Serbians met a similar fate. Like the Ethiopians’, their presence in Jerusalem was purely monastic; and— again like the Ethiopians’—this presence was on the wane during the first half of the seventeenth century until it vanished completely.® Yet data concerning the number of Georgian and Serbian monks in Jerusalem are missing from the Jfahnr registers of the sixteenth century just as they are from the poll-tax register of the late seventeenth century. One possible explanation for this is that the Ottomans, who paid more attention to the religious and sectarian than to the ethnic and cultural differences dividing their non-Muslim subjects, sometimes registered Georgians and Serbians simply as “Rum”, that is, Greek Orthodox.*°
3. Economic Power Relations
According to the poll-tax register of 1690-91, the Christians of Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity were engaged in over 60 different occupations. Classifying these various occupations by economic activity involved in each would be the first step in an attempt to sketch an economic outline of the population studied. Table 5 lists the main sectors of economic activity as well as the number of Christian taxpayers involved in each in late-seventeenth century Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity.
From there it clearly emerges that artisans formed the dominant part of the Christian labor force in Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity. The relative share of these artisans (72%), together with those of the day-laborers (8%) and the peasants (11%), could depict a fairly productive society. For the sake of comparison, the percentage of those engaged in any manual occupation within the Jewish population of late seventeenth-century Jerusalem was less than 40, with the rest being occupied with petty trade and providing personal or communal services, mainly in the religious realm.*” This last sector, however, is where some reservations should be raised regarding the above outline of the Christian labor force. It will be remembered that Christian men of religion—a seemingly “unproductive” sector (as they themselves would argue)—were all excluded from the poll-tax register. What ‘Table 5 would have looked like had they been included is open to speculation.”
Whatever the part of the absent clerics, the Christian labor force in Jerusalem and its vicinity included other “unproductive” sectors such as trade and services. Regarding trade, it should be noted that out of the 39 Christians involved in this sector, only 5 were merchants called bezirgdn——a title ascribed in Ottoman parlance to big businessmen engaged in international or inter-regional trade.” Most of the others, 25 by number, were local peddlers of second-hand goods called eskici. ‘The remaining 9 were market place brokers, public auctioneers and salesmen. Obviously, large-scale commerce was not characteristic of Christian economic life in seventeenth-century Jerusalem.
The same could be said of services. Furthermore, out of the small group of Christians involved in this sector, only ten seem to have been engaged in providing services usually demanded by pilgrims: lodgment, transportation, guidance, etc. This is rather strange in view of the fact that Christian pilgrimage to the Holy Land has always been a key element, if not the most important factor, in the economy of Jerusalem and its immediate vicinity. On consideration, however, this finding is quite understandable, because attending to pilgrims—a profitable business as much as a pious mission—was virtually monopolized by the Christian monastic orders operating in Jerusalem.” Given the fact that these religious elements were excluded from the 1690-91 poll-tax register, it is no wonder the lively economic activity involved in the provisioning of necessary services for Chnistian pilgrims to Jerusalem seems so under-represented in Ottoman statistics."
In contrast, unskilled day-laborers (zrgat) seem to have had a fairly remarkable presence in Ottoman statistics. The concentration of these elements in Jerusalem probably had to do with the demographic developments described above. Naturally, the likeliest source of this particular sort of Christian “proletariat” were Christian peasants moving to Jerusalem from its rural or semi-rural vicinity. Similar processes have led to similar consequences in different times and places around the world. What we already know about the urbanization of Jerusalem’s Christian population seems to fit in with this theory.
Agriculture played an insignificant part in the economic activity of Jerusalem’s Christians: only two shepherds were involved in this sector in the late seventeenth century. Outside Jerusalem, 27 peasants and 11] shepherds were assessed in Bethlehem, and 41 peasants and 15 shepherds in Beyt Jala. These findings reflect the semi-rural character of the Christian population in Bethlehem and Beyt Jala, as opposed to the unmistakably urban nature of the same population in Jerusalem. It seems, however, that the Christian population of Bethlehem was urbanizing more rapidly than that of Beyt Jala. This is conveyed not only by the fact that the number of Christians living by agriculture in Beyt Jala was almost double than in Bethlehem, but also by the fact that the occupational structure of the Christian population of Beyt Jala was much simpler than that of Bethlehem’s. That the Christian population of Beyt Jala was not entirely rural is implied by the fact that it had more artisans than peasants and shepherds.
To what extent is the picture delineated thus far compatible with the economic profile of each of the different communities that made up the Christian population of seventeenth-century Jerusalem? Could any of these communities be tagged as specializing in any particular field? What was the relative role of each of these groups in the general labor force of the population studied? These and other related questions will be dealt with on the basis of the data presented in Tables 6, 7, and 8.
These data reveal that manual work was most characteristic of the Greek Orthodox community, with artisans, day-laborers and peasants constituting more than 90 percent of their labor force. Much the same could be said of the other communities, as all had a dominant sector of artisans, which together with the day-laborers accounted for 80-90 percent of their labor force. This means that relatively small parts of these communities were involved in the potentially more lucrative sectors of trade and services, with those of the Greek Orthodox proportionally the smallest, and the Armenians’ and Jacobite Synians’ slightly larger. The Copts, on the other hand, were somewhat distinct in having as much as 16.7 percent of their labor force involved in services. In keeping with a professional tradition which has become characteristic of that community in Egypt, the Copts belonging to this sector in Jerusalem offered their famous book-keeping skills to any interested party.’ The Maronites, for their part, were distinguished in trade. Traders accounted for 13.5 percent of the Maronite labor force in Jerusalem. Moreover, these traders were, in fact, the five Christians recorded as bezirgdén in Jerusalem’s poll-tax register. The Maronite labor force included, however, a relatively large sector of unskilled day-laborers, as did the Jacobite Syrians’. If indeed there was a relationship between this particular sector and the migration of Christian peasants to Jerusalem, then these two communities seem to have been affected by this demographic trend more than any other of Jerusalem’s Christian sects.
According to the data shown in Table 8, the Greek Orthodox were the dominant group in each of the basic sectors of Christian economic activity. But whereas agriculture was almost entirely in Greek Orthodox hands, their share in services equaled that of the other Christian communities put together. Things were not much different with regard to trade, though here too the Greek Orthodox maintained an absolute majority. The Armenians, the second largest community, were also the second largest group in crafts, services, and trade. As for the other communities, their share in the economic activity of Jerusalem’s Christians appears to have been less determined by their relative size.
The economic picture delineated thus far can be supplemented by another statistical factor, the progressive rates of the poll-tax paid by non-Muslims following the fiscal reform of 1691. As noted, one of the important innovations involved in this reform was the adoption of the traditional Islamic norms prescribing the czzye assessed at three different rates according to the economic ability of the payer. These being “low” (edna) for those of modest subsistence; “medium” (evsat) for those who were somewhat better off; and “high” (a’/a) for those considered rich. The sums paid were one, two, and four gold pieces respectively. As these norms were applied in Jerusalem as well, the 1690-91 poll-tax register might help in a further clarification of the social and economic conditions under which the studied population lived.
According to the poll-tax register of 1690-91, most (81%) of the Christians living in Jerusalem and its semi-rural vicinity paid the lowest cizgye rate. A much smaller group (18.5%) paid the medium rate tax. The rest (0.5%) paid the highest. As a whole, this population seems to have had a quite modest standard of living. However, as none of those living outside Jerusalem paid the czzye at its medium or highest rates, the Christians living in Jerusalem proper seem to have been slightly better off.
Appraising the economic strength of each community in relation to the others necessitates the use of a standardized scale that would help position each of these communities in the context discussed. This may be achieved by calculating separately the total sum paid as czzye by each community, then dividing this sum by the given number of payers. The result is a value indicating the average tax burden imposed on each taxpayer in a given community. The higher this value, the better the economic standing of the community concerned.
According to Table 9, this value was highest for the Nestorians. This finding, however, is practically meaningless, since it is based on only two cases. Hence, the Maronites seem to have been the strongest community in economic terms.“ They were followed by the Armenians who were also the second largest sect. At the bottom of the scale were the Greek Orthodox and the Roman Catholics who appear to have been the most economically deprived. The Jacobite Syrians and the Copts seem to have been slightly better off, as may be inferred from their position in the middle of this scale. These findings should not come as a surprise: Table 10 corroborates the predictable relationship between the professional structure of each community (see Table 7) and its economic standing. But were the differences significant? In answering this question one should note that the average tax burden of no community extended beyond the mid-range between the lowest and the medium cizye rates. The Christian communities in and near Jerusalem appear all to have shared the same standard of living, which by Ottoman official figures was basic, modest, or poor.
4. Conclusion
The poll-tax register of 1690-91 appears to be a unique and indispensable source for reconstructing the general demographic, social and economic portrait of the Christian population in seventeenthcentury Jerusalem. However, a certain degree of skepticism is due here, as in any other study based on early Ottoman statistics. Doubts concerning the accuracy, credibility and research applicability of the Ottoman tax and population surveys are as old as the systematic study of them.* So, here too, the same question needs to be asked: to what extent do the statistical data on which this study is based reflect the reality to which they relate? With the scholarly debate over the historical value of Ottoman statistics still underway, no definite answer to this question is forthcoming. Nevertheless, as far as the 1690-91 poll-tax survey of Jerusalem is concerned, one might hope that the special circumstances which surrounded its taking, together with the improved methods employed in its making, must, this time, have secured more accurate and reliable results. Whatever the case, one thing is certain: the Christian population of seventeenth-century Jerusalem is better known with the 1690-91 poll-tax register than it would have been without it.
Another question is how relevant were these statistical data to the Question of the Holy Sites? Apparently they were, as some observers like Charles H. Luke would readily argue: As the several ecclesiastical communities represented in the Holy Places waxed or waned in influence or even (as in the case of the Georgians) lost all representation in the Holy Land, so their shares in the sanctuaries fluctuated and their boundaries within the shrines tended to depend upon the numbers, wealth, and even strong right arm, of the parties concerned and upon the favour of the Sultan.”
Leaving aside for the moment whatever is meant by the “favour of the Sultan”, it remains to be seen whether and to what extent the economic and numerical power relations between the various Christian denominations determined their respective shares and standing at the Holy Sites.
As for the economic power relations, it becomes clear that none of the Christian communities present in and around Jerusalem enjoyed any significant edge over its various counterparts. Furthermore, no single community had sufficient economic power to support whatever aspirations its ecclesiastical leadership might be fostering with respect to the Holy Sites. Indeed, Christian as well as Ottoman sources concur that the ability of the various church hierarchies to act in their respective interests with regard to the Holy Sites relied on outside support. Such support came in various guises. One of the most important took the form of Christian pilgrimage to the Holy Sites. The potential contribution of Christian pilgrimage to Jerusalem’s economy has already been noted. So has the control of Christian ecclesiastical institutions over the economic activity associated with attending to the pilgrims’ needs. What is more, it appears that while in Jerusalem, many pilgrims would go beyond paying for their transport, lodging and guidance, and dispense extra money as donations for the benefit of the Christian institutions that provided these services—each according to his church affiliation, the depth of his piety, and of course, the extent of his financial capacity. The fervent preoccupation of the various church hierarchies in Jerusalem with renovating church buildings and running them as pilgrim hostels points to the great expectations pinned on this particular source of regular income.’ Another important source of regular income were dona-tions collected by emissaries of the various church hierarchies in Jerusalem from wealthier Christian congregations scattered across the Ottoman Empire and abroad.** Furthermore, these church hierarchies would have also benefited from all manner of grants and gifts, the generous donations of Christian princes and kings, as well as regular income from endowments and bequests willed on their behalf in various Christian states.*? Documents bearing witness to this give the impression that the Greek Orthodox, Armenian, and Franciscan hierarchies in Jerusalem were the main beneficiaries of these kinds of outside support. Nevertheless, this impression is unsubstantiated by quantitative and comparable data, making it impossible to discern the exact correlation that must have existed between the economic power of each of these ecclesiastical institutions, and their respective rights in the Holy Sites.
On the other hand, was there a discernible correlation between the numeric power of each of Jerusalem’s Christian groups, and their respective standing in the Holy Sites? There is no straightforward answer to this question either, for possession of the most important shares, the Edicule of the Holy Sepulchre or the Grotto of the Nativity, was not static but repeatedly changed hands, particularly between the Greek Orthodox and the Franciscan monks. This matter and its various implications are discussed at length in Chapter Three.
There remains to discuss those possessions which for the most part remained non-controversial and static. The exploration of these rights reveals that there was in fact a certain positive correlation between the relative size of each denomination and the position its ecclesiastical hierarchy had in the Holy Sites.
Greek Orthodox was the church of most Christians living around the Holy Sites. In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre this reality was reflected by the fact that the Greek Orthodox church possessed exclusive and permanent rights to many important sites such as the Chapel of Crucifixion (7) and the Chapel of Adam (10) at Golgotha (6), as well as the Katholikon (11), the Chapel of St. Longinus (18), Christ’s Prison (16), the Chapel of Derision (20), and St. Abraham Monastery (30).°° Similarly, it owned the ancient chapels to the west of the parvis (31-33). In Bethlehem, the Greek Orthodox church dominated most of the above-ground sections of the Church of the Nativity.*! For most of the seventeenth century, control of these sites provided the Greek Orthodox church with a convenient stepping-stone for extending its possessions to include also the other, more important sites, which were the cause of perennial conflict between the different Christian rites.
The second most important shareholder at the Holy Sites was, as to be expected, the Armenian church. The Armenians possessed exclusive and permanent rights to a number of important chapels at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, namely the Chapel of Parting of Raiment (19), St. Helena’s Chapel (21), the Chapel of St. John (29), and the Chapel of the Three Mary’s (34). They also owned the second floor above the main entrance (26), visible today from the front of the church.*? The Armenian church also had clearly-defined claims to the Grotto of the Nativity in Bethlehem, and apparently at some point in time, succeeded in gaining a foothold there, next to the Greek Orthodox church and/or the Franciscan order.* Nevertheless, the decline of the Armenian presence within the Christian population of Bethlehem proved detrimental to the Armenian church: Without the backing of a local congregation to support its claims, the Armenian church had difficulty in retaining whatever holdings it had at the Grotto, and dropped out of the picture very early on in the second half of the seventeenth century.
The numeric power of the Christians backing the Franciscan presence in Jerusalem was far less significant than that of the Armenians, and almost non-existent compared to the Greek Orthodox’. One must nevertheless remember that the Franciscan monks not only served as the spiritual leaders of the Pope’s followers in Jerusalem, but also, and primarily, as the exclusive representatives of the Roman Catholic church, thence of Europe’s Catholic states, at the Holy Sites. As representatives (and dependents) of such world-wide, heavyweight powers, it was only natural that the Franciscan monks, despite their small number, would constitute the main rival to the Greek Orthodox church in its struggle for preeminence in the Holy Sites. Until late in the seventeenth century, the Greek Orthodox had the upper hand, which left the Franciscan monks with possession of the Chapel of Invention (22), the Chapel of Apparition (24), the monastery around it (23), and the Chapel of St. Mary of Egypt (27) in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre alone.’ Thus, there seems to have been a correlation between the Franciscans being the third most important shareholder in the Holy Sites, and the fact that their coreligionists, the Roman Catholic and the Maronite communities, together formed the third largest element within the Christian population in Jerusalem. As for the Franciscan monks themselves, their number as well as the duration of their stay in Jerusalem were limited by the Ottoman authorities, probably continuing an older precedent that had been established by their Mamluk predecessors.*° Thus the number of Franciscans permitted to stay in and around Jerusalem normally ranged between 36-60 monks. The duration of their stay was confined to three years, after which the heads of the Franciscan order in Europe were obliged to recall them and send others in their stead. The exact number—36 or 60—was a subject of controversy between the Greek Orthodox church and the Franciscan order, with each side pressing the Ottoman authorities to decide on the number which better suited its own wishes and needs.’ The understandable insistence of the Greek Orthodox church on the lower number may well indicate its awareness of the relationship between numeric supe-riority in and around Jerusalem, and preeminence in the Holy Sites.** In this regard, it seems that not only religious reasoning but also a profound fear of any change, however slight, in the numeric power relations between the Christian denominations in and around Jerusalem was behind the forceful opposition of the Greek Orthodox church to the activities of the Latin mission. For the same reason, it appears, the same church objected vehemently to any sign that could be interpreted as a Franciscan attempt to establish a Catholic-Maronite bloc in Jerusalem with the objective of concerted action on religious issues, among these being the struggle for preeminence in the Holy Sites. Taking advantage of its numeric superiority, the Greek Orthodox church in Jerusalem successfully maintained its primacy in the Holy Sites up until late in the seventeenth century. By then, as the Question of the Holy Sites started transforming from an internal Ottoman problem to an external diplomatic one, new and foreign forces interposed, which to a great degree eliminated the advantages the Greek Orthodox church derived from any locally-gained preponderance. The Greek Orthodox church, the Armenian church, and the Franciscan order were thus the principal title holders at the Holy Sites. The other Christian sects retained only small representation in these sites, which by and large reflected their numeric inferiority, as well as the meager sources of external aid to which they could appeal. The Coptic church, the numbers of whose adherents in Jerusalem and pilgrims from Egypt were waning, had rights to a tiny chapel adjacent to the west of the Edicule at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (3), as well as to the Chapel of St. Michael (28). The Jacobite Syrian church owned the Chapel of St. Nicodemus (4) and the Chapel of Joseph Arimathae (5). However, it seems that in the mid-seventeenth century the Jacobite Syrian church in Jerusalem had to relinquish these sites after incurring heavy debts. Unable to get help from its small and impoverished congregations in Jerusalem and elsewhere, the Jacobite Syrian church was forced to transfer its rights in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to the Armenian church, in return for the latter’s guarantee to cover the former’s debts. The Jacobite Syrians were forced out of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a fact noticed by the English traveler, Henry Maundrell, who had visited Jerusalem at the end of the seventeenth century and found only “Latins, Greeks, Armenians and Cophtites” to be title holders at the Holy Sites.”
To recap: the system of Christian rights to the Holy Sites described thus far touches mainly on those parts where a particular church had an exclusive claim to which the others acquiesced outright. The other parts where the issue of possession remained unsettled, are also the most sacred spaces within the Holy Sites. Over these spaces a fierce rivalry sprang up between the dominant Christian churches, with each struggling to win preeminence. The roots of this rivalry go deep into the pre-Ottoman history of the Question of the Holy Sites.
C. Tue Pre-Orroman LEGACY OF THE QUESTION OF THE Hoty Sires
The inter-church struggle over the Holy Sites was a latter consequence of earlier development: The historical fragmentation of Christianity from a single unified church to several churches divided by a variety of theological trends and between different political centers in the Christian world. Each schism gave rise to separate Christian denominations, and these denominations gave rise to an internecine conflict over possession and use of the most sacred Christian sites. Most of these schisms occurred during the first centuries of Christianity following its adoption as the official religion of the Roman Empire. Almost all of them derived from the interminable theological debates into which the young church had fallen while trying to determine the nature of Christ. Yet a distinct political shade colored these religious polemics and ensuing schisms, as many were started by Christian peoples in the East feeling excluded and displeased at the centralized manner in which the Byzantine state administered the matters of the church, as well as the monopolization of its higher hierarchy by clerics of Greek descent.”
The first challenge to the unity of the church occurred early in the fourth century when an Alexandrine priest named Arius claimed that Christ had been created by God, and that therefore the divinity of Christ was of different nature from God’s. This view was examined in 325 by the Council of Nicaea which resolved to repudiate the Arian creed, and to denounce its followers as heretics.
The Arian heresy faded out in the course of the fifth century without leaving a trace in the form of an enduring schism. But the matter at issue remained unsolved, and debate continued within the church on how settle the contradiction found between the divine nature of Christ as God’s Son, and his earthly substance as a human being. The solution proposed by Nestorius, Patriarch of Constantinople (428-431), led to the first lasting schism in church history. Stressing the human side in Chnist’s personality, Nestorius conceived of Him as having two distinct natures, the one human and the other divine, embodied in two distinct persons, the one earthly and the other heavenly. This idea of Christ was harshly criticized and declared heresy at the Council of Ephesus (431), which forced Nestorius to flee and seek refuge in Persia. His Aramaic-speaking followers founded the dissident Nestorian church, which at first prospered until being nearly destroyed by the Mongolian invasions of the thirteenth century. Unable to recover, the Nestorian church fell victim to a steady process of dwindling numbers and decline. The insignificant Nestorian presence in the Ottoman Empire in general and in seventeenth-century Jerusalem in particular could well be a symptom and a result of this ill-fated process.
Among the harshest critics of Nestorianism in Ephesus were those who developed a diametrically opposite theory. To them, Christ had but one nature, embodied in one person, both divine. Monophysism, as this theological position came to be known, rapidly caught hold gaining prevalence and support particularly in Syria and Egypt which had been strongholds of political opposition to the Byzantine state.
The denunciation of Monophysism by the Council of Chalcedon (451) led to the withdrawal of the Monophysite elements from the Byzantine church who upheld the “orthodox” belief that Christ had two distinct natures—divine and human-—embodied in a single person. The Monophysite schism however did not end in a single Monophysite church, for the matter at issue was not merely or wholly theological. It is generally believed that the Monophysite schism was an act of national-like defiance on the part of some Christian peoples in the East who had grown tired of Byzantine Greek-Hellenic exclusivity in deciding matters of religion and church. The result was that each of these peoples established their own national-like Monophysite church bearing their name, speaking their language, and featuring their own culture. These developed into the Armenian, Coptic (ie. Egyptian), Ethiopian and the (Jacobite-) Syrian churches. The Armenian church has always been the major, dominant and richest of the Monophysite rites. The Coptic and the Jacobite-Syrian communities experienced mass conversions and decline following the Islamic conquests. The Ethiopian church remained beyond the limits of Islamic expansion, and was at the same time loath to nurture believers’ communities outside the Ethiopian kingdom itself, Jerusalem being the only exception.
Attempts to reconcile with the Monophysites and bring them back to Orthodoxy (that is, the Byzantine church) not only failed but paved the way to another schism. The compromise formulated by Emperor Heraclius (610-641), suggesting that Christ had two distinct natures but only one will, was accepted by few churchmen from either side. Those who followed them were called Monothelites (Greek, monos thelma: “one will”). The Maronite church, named for a Christian saint living in fifth-century Syria, is probably an upshot of the Monothelitic schism.
At the same time as the Orthodox church was busy struggling with the dissident churches of the East, the gap between its two main jurisdictional centers, Constantinople and Rome, was growing seriously wider. ‘This jurisdictional partition reflected the political division of the Roman Empire after the death of Theodosius (395) into a western empire (that crumbled shortly afterwards), and an eastern empire (that became the Byzantine state). However, what began as an administrative or political division, evolved over time into a cultural and religious rift. In 1054 this state of affairs resulted in a formal schism leaving mainstream Christianity torn between two distinct and opposing churches: the Greek Orthodox in the East, and the Roman Catholic in the West.
What was the role of Jerusalem in this chain of religious polemics and schisms? How did these developments affect the genesis of the Question of the Holy Sites? History has it that Emperor Constantine set about discovering and commemorating Christianity’s most significant sites so as to make them universal foci of faith and pilgrimage, a rallying cause the entire Christian world could identify with. Constantine, who had just managed to reunite the Roman Empire under his rule, saw in Christianity a powerful integrative tool that would hopefully preclude re-partition of the realm. It is therefore not a coincidence that the cue for launching the project of locating and unearthing Christianity’s most significant sites was given at the same time the Council of Nicaea was meeting to discuss the Arian creed. On the occasion of the first challenge to the unity of the church, the first foundation was laid for making Jerusalem and its vicinity a universal locus of adoration for all Christians on earth.®
The newly discovered and monumentalized sites of the Nativity, Crucifixion and Sepulchering fell short of preserving the unity of the Christian world and church. Yet, the formal consecration of Jerusalem and Bethlehem, with every emphasis put on their unique significance to Christians as a whole, made all schisms and splits of Christianity equal in their deep admiring of, and strong attachment to, the Holy Sites. This is reflected by the fact that possession and use of these sites have been shared by different Christian sects from an early stage in their history. But the deepening of the internal strife within the Christian church, and the ineffectiveness of all efforts to come to terms with the dissident elements and bring them back to Orthodoxy, made the Byzantine state adopt a firm religious policy that stressed the association of the Holy Sites with the Byzantine church, to the exclusion of the others. It was in this very context—the emergence of Monophysism—that the modest bishopric of Jerusalem was elevated to the status of patriarchate, a move urged by the wish to keep the local hierarchy loyal to the Byzantine church, as well as to assert the pertinence of the Holy Sites to the Byzantine state.”
Of particular note is Justinian I (527-565), who as part of his struggle against Monophysism, denied its adherents access to the Holy Sites. This restriction remained in force until the Islamic conquest of Jerusalem in 638.
The Muslm conquest of Jerusalem resumed the interrupted development of the Holy Sites as universal venues of worship and pilgrimage common to all Christians regardless of their church. On the one hand, the Muslim conquest eliminated Byzantine state control of Jerusalem. It also removed local church affairs from the intrusive reach of the ecumenical leadership of the Byzantine church. On the other hand, and in contrast to the policies of the Byzantine state (or church), Muslim rule permitted all Christian rites to maintain relations with their holiest sites. Apart from making Jerusalem and its vicinity accessible for pilgrimage from all parts of the Christian world, Muslim rulers expressed, at least in two well-known instances, explicit recognition of the universal quality of the Holy Sites and of their possessing a pan-Christian interest. In the late eighth century the famous Abbasid Caliph, Hariin al-Rashid, recognized the Latin interest in the Holy Sites by allowing Charlemagne to establish and maintain hostels for European pilgrims in and around Jerusalem. In 1036, the Fatimid Caliph al-Mustansir acknowledged the right of the Byzantine Emperor Constantine [IX Monomachus to rebuild the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which in 1009 had been demolished by his predecessor, al-Hakim.* As noted, this comprehensive policy restored the Holy Sites their quality as universal religious assets common to all Christians. One of the consequences of this development was the return of the Monophysite churches to their old possessions at the Holy Sites.
The Crusades and the fall of Jerusalem in 1099 destroyed the pan-Christian character of the Holy Sites making them again the property of a single church, this ttme—the Roman Catholic. It is true that in the beginning, the Crusaders worked in concert with the local Christian communities. But with Jerusalem declared as the capital of the Latin Kingdom, it became eminently clear who would have the final say regarding issues related to the Holy Sites. In the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem there was no room for a Byzantine patriarch, who was indeed displaced by a Latin one. Moreover, the adherents of the Greek Orthodox and the other Eastern-rite churches were exposed to Latin proselytizing efforts and made subordinate to the authority of Roman Catholic priests. Unsurprisingly, these churches were relegated to an inferior or no standing at all in the Holy Sites.” This state of affairs survived the fall of Jerusalem in 1187 to Saladin, for Latin kings used diplomacy to preserve Roman Catholic ascendancy at the Holy Sites.’”? Change came only with the Mamluk conquest of Jerusalem in 1244, and was stamped by the final annihilation, in 1291, of the Latin political presence in the Holy Land.
The Muslim victory and the demise of the Latin Kingdom made it possible for the Eastern-rite churches to recover their rights in the Holy Sites. But an interesting situation emerged: after a century of Latin domination in Jerusalem and Bethlehem (and precisely for this very reason), the Roman Catholic church found itself devoid of all representation in the Holy Sites.’ This was hardly a situation the Roman Catholic church could, or would, put up with. So, after some ninety years of forced absence from the most important shrines of Christianity, it was only natural for the Roman Catholic church to try and find some way back to the Holy Sites.
The monks of the Franciscan order paved the way of the Roman Catholic church to come back to the Holy Sites. The first Franciscan monks arrived in the Holy Land in 1333 to become, after ten years, the official representatives of Roman Catholicism in the Holy Sites.” Armed, on the one hand, with a great deal of ambition, resolve, and perseverance, and aided, on the other hand, by the insouciance and the relative weakness of the other churches, the Franciscan monks managed in quite a short time to establish for themselves a pride of place in the Holy Sites. By the time of the Ottoman conquest, the Franciscan monks were already in possession of most of the important shares n the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.”
The inclusion of the Roman Catholic church among the Christian denominations sharing the Holy Sites marked the completion of the historical process, evolution and acceptance of these sites as universal venues of worship and pilgrimage common to all Christians regardless of their church. Since then, the Holy Sites have been held in common by representatives of the Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox and most of the Monophysite churches. This process involved another, ominous development: the growing tension, suspiciousness and resentment among the joint holders of the Holy Sites. Each one of these holders had in the past experienced forced exclusion from the Holy Sites. Now, the facts established by the Franciscan monks evoked bitter memories of the past, as well as fears of the future, should others, like the Greek Orthodox or the Armenians, decide to take up the Franciscan example—which is exactly what happened under Ottoman rule.
D. Istamic Rute: THe Otroman Empire IN Earty Mopern TIMEs
The combination of holy sites and Christian rites vying for preeminence thereat was not sufficient to create the so-called Question of the Holy Sites. Another crucial factor had to be added: the presence of these sites under non-Christian rule. The logic behind this observation seems simple and clear: Under Christian rule of any kind, preeminence at the Holy Sites would automatically and incontestably be promised to the particular church with which the government identified. Moreover, at times of mounting inter-church tensions, this preeminence would turn into exclusivity, as had actually happened under Byzantine or Crusader rule. However, under Islamic rule, state and church were no longer one and the same thing, as far as the Holy Sites were concerned, which made competition over their pos-session and use open to all branches of Christianity. Islamic rule seems then to have contributed greatly towards the preservation of the Holy Sites’ pan-Christian quality. This of course had significant implications for the evolution of the Holy Sites as Christianity’s holiest shrines, as well as for the development of an inter-church conflict over their possession and use. To this should one add the intricacies involved in the mere presence of such important shrines of Christianity under the rule of Islam. Islamic rule became thus one of the basic constituents of the Question of the Holy Sites. It goes without saying that the nature and fortunes of this rule should play an important part in the shaping of this question and its historical development.
Except for the time of the Crusades, the Holy Sites were under the aegis of an Islamic state from the early seventh century onward. Actual rule, however, frequently changed. The Ottoman Turks who on the eve of early modern times established the last dynasty to rule the core lands of the Muslim world, liked to think of their polity as a genuine representation of the classical Islamic state. As all of their predecessors had tried to do the same, the passage from Mamluk to Ottoman rule did not make a big cultural or religious difference for the Holy Land. Nevertheless, with the Ottoman conquest the Holy Land came to be part of a vigorous expanding state which was about to become the most significant power within and beyond the world of Islam.
When the victorious armies of Sultan Selim I (1512-1520) took Palestine (together with Syria, Egypt and Hedjaz), the domains of the Ottoman Empire stretched over three continents. Another halfcentury of Ottoman expansion and consolidation followed. These were the years of Sultan Siileyman I (1520-1566), “the Magnificent”, according to his European peers, who watched with appreciation and apprehension his military and political achievements which spread Ottoman power from Trnava to Tabriz, and from Aden to Tlemcen. Ottoman success in the age of Siileyman is explained by his ability to combine territorial expansion abroad with stability and cohesion at home. He did this by waging wars of conquest to the east and to the west, and by constructing a strong centralist bureaucracy to better control the realm. This is the reason classical historians call the time of Siileyman the “Golden Age” of the Ottoman Empire. Revisionist scholars assert, however, that the Siileymanic “Golden Age” was not really a fact but, rather, an ideal construct impressed by the Ottoman “Advice Literature” of the seventeenth century.” Whichever the case, all seem to agree that by the middle of the sixteenth century, and for many years thereafter, the Ottoman Empire was the strongest and most important force in the global balance of power.
By the middle of the sixteenth century, however, the Ottoman Empire had more or less reached its limits of territorial expansion. Time was naturally needed for this change of circumstances to sink in, as the innate thrust for fresh conquests remained unabated in the minds of Ottoman sultans who came to the throne after the death of Siileyman. So, during the latter part of the sixteenth century the Ottoman army exhausted its power fighting static wars, which, regardless of victory or defeat, did not result in territorial gains for the Ottoman Empire. Rather, this indecisive warfare strained the resources, and drained the treasury, of the Ottoman state as the increasing expenses could no longer be balanced by the additional revenues that more conquests would have secured. In the early seventeenth century this financial crisis began to cause political disorder and social unrest.
Recent interpretations of Ottoman history set the difficulties of the seventeenth century in the wider context of a general crisis that is said to have occurred in Eurasia as a whole.” Polities across both continents seem all to have suffered from population growth, excessive urbanization, rural depletion, monetary confusion, price inflation, popular revolts of various forms, and the dilution of central power by ambitious elite groups emerging in both the capital and the provinces. To be sure, this crisis was eventually managed. But the way it was managed in the West differed from the way it was managed in the East. Whereas adjustment and accommodation was the Ottomans’ way of dealing with the effects of the seventeenth-century crisis, in Europe, response to the same crisis resulted in economic renaissance and technological progress, which helps account for the subsequent reversal of the global power relations as the major European powers came to assert their superiority over the Ottoman Empire.
As it turned out, European powers were not to assert their military and political superiority over the Ottoman Empire before the turn of the eighteenth century. There were, however, early warning signs. In the early 1650s the Venetian navy managed to effectively blockade the Dardanelles, thereby posing a potential threat to the Ottoman capital itself. From the point of view of Istanbul, this was truly an alarming development, completely inconceivable just a few decades before.”
In anxious Istanbul, actual authority was conferred on K6priilii Mehmed Paga, an elderly man in his eighties, but nevertheless renowned for extraordinary energy and rich experience in Ottoman military and administrative service. Appointed grand vizier on September 15, 1656, Kopriilii Mehmed Pasa did indeed work assiduously and resolvedly to reform what he judged to be wrong with the Ottoman Empire. He embarked on reestablishing central control over the provinces and on breaking all manifestations of internal lawlessness. Measures were also taken to prune the bloated machinery of the state and ensure the flow of taxes to the central treasury. The situation on the Venetian front also improved, resulting in the lifting of the blockade of the Dardanelles and removing the menace to Istanbul.”
Ko6priilii Mehmed Paga died of old age after only five years in office. He was succeeded by his own sons and other members of his household, who kept the Kopriilii family in actual control of the Ottoman state throughout the second half of the seventeenth century. These were: Fazil Ahmed (1661-1676), Kara Mustafa (1676-1683), Fazil Mustafa (1689-1691), and Amcazade Hiiseyin (1698-1702). All served as grand viziers after Mehmed Pasa; all remained loyal to his political legacy whose basic principles were centralization at home and aggrandizement abroad. Under the Kopriiliis, the wave of territorial conquests resumed, which added the Province of Podolia (1676) and the Island of Crete (1669) to the Ottoman Empire. At the same time, efforts continued to improve and reform the military, the administrative machinery and the financial affairs of the Ottoman state.”
The achievements of the Kopriiliis enabled the Ottoman Empire to retain its pride of place in the global balance of power. The Ottoman Empire appeared to be reliving the legendary “Golden Age” associated with the reign of Siileyman, which was the model that had inspired the Kopriilii reforms in the first place. It is therefore not surprising that by 1683, upon believing that most of their work was done, and that the empire came more or less back to what it was at the time of Siileyman, the Képriiliis would try to repeat the most ambitious and daring move of that glorious sultan—laying siege to Vienna.
The siege to Vienna in the early sixteenth century marked the zenith of Ottoman power and its territorial extent. It also marked their limits: the walls of Vienna were as far as the Ottomans would get. In the late seventeenth century, the Ottoman Empire tested these limits for the second (and last) time. But just as Siileyman failed in his attempt to break through the walls of Vienna, so too did Kara Mustafa a century and a half later. But the price of his failure was higher than that of Siileyman’s. The second failure at Vienna cost Kara Mustafa his life, and the Ottoman Empire had to face the counterattack of a strong, victory-inspired coalition including Austria, Poland and Venice, which were later joined by Russia. This coalition dealt a series of painful blows on the Ottoman army. Fifteen more years were to elapse with the Ottomans trying to hold on and fight back. By 1699 it was all over, and the Ottoman Empire prepared to concede defeat to its enemies, which it formally did, that year in Karlowitz.”
In retrospect, the Peace of Karlowitz appears as a significant turning point in Ottoman history. This peace agreement and the negotiations that preceded it heralded the new course of the foreign affairs of the Ottoman Empire. The Peace of Karlowitz was the first in a long series of diplomatic agreements that the Ottoman Empire, defeated on the battlefield, would have to conclude with stronger enemies. It was the first of many political settlements in which the Ottoman Empire ceded territories that had long been an integral part of the “Well-Protected Domains.”® At Karlowitz, it is claimed, the first step of the long and continuous Ottoman withdrawal from Europe was made. The global power relations took an irreversible turn to the detriment of the Ottoman Empire. After two and a half centuries of virtually unchallenged superiority, the fortunes of the Ottoman Empire became increasingly dependent on the vicissitudes of European diplomacy.
Consequently, so did the fortunes of the Holy Sites. The seeds of change and the portentous signs of an imminent turn in the way the Question of the Holy Sites would be handled were already present in Karlowitz. During the negotiations preceding the Peace of Karlowitz, the Ottoman Empire was for the first time in history presented with firmly worded foreign demands with regard to the Holy Sites.*' In the course of the eighteenth century, these demands were intensified in substance and assertiveness reflecting the weakening position of the Ottoman Empire in relation to the other powers. In the late nineteenth century, this process culminated with the European powers formally taking over the Question of the Holy Sites and forcing on the Ottoman Empire their own solution thereof. Surely, none of the delegates to Karlowitz could imagine the way things would come to end 180 years later, in the Treaty of Berlin. But in retrospect, it would be fair to regard the end of the seventeenth century as the beginning of the end of Ottoman exclusivity in determining the fortunes of the Holy Sites.
Link
Press Here
0 التعليقات :
إرسال تعليق