How the first Bible with a map helped spread the idea of bordered nations
Five hundred years ago the first Bible featuring a map was published. The anniversary has passed uncelebrated, but it transformed the way that Bibles were produced. The map appeared in Christopher Froschauer’s 1525 Old Testament, which was published in Zürich and widely distributed in 16th-century central Europe.
Yet despite being a groundbreaking moment in the Bible’s history, the initial attempt was hardly a triumph.
It is flipped along the north-south axis (meaning it’s back to front). As a result, the Mediterranean appears to the east of Palestine, rather than to the west. It illustrates how little many in Europe knew about the Middle East that such a map could have been published without anyone in the printer’s workshop questioning it.
The map had originally been drawn about a decade earlier by the celebrated Renaissance painter and printmaker Lukas Cranach the Elder, based in Wittenberg in latterday Germany. Written in Latin, it shows Palestine with various important holy sites such as Jerusalem and Bethlehem. At the bottom, you can see the mountains of Sinai and the path taken by the Israelites as they escaped slavery in Egypt.
Look closely and you can see the Israelites and their tents, plus various vignettes of the events on their journey. The landscape is more European than Middle Eastern, though, reflecting the printmakers’ ignorance of this region. There are walled towns with numerous trees and, in contrast with reality, the Jordan meanders rather more dramatically towards the Dead Sea, and the coastline has more bays and coves.
In the previous century, Europeans had rediscovered the second-century Greco-Roman geographer Ptolemy, and with him the art of making accurate maps that used latitude and longitude (insofar as longitude could be estimated at that time – it greatly improved in later centuries). With the advent of printing, Ptolemy’s Cosmographia had taken Europe by storm. His scientific treatise on geography was published and his maps of the ancient world reproduced.
Printers soon discovered, however, that purchasers desired contemporary maps. Soon new maps of France, Spain and Scandinavia were published. To our eyes these are truly modern. North is at the top of the page and the locations of cities, rivers and coastlines are presented highly accurately.
These maps rapidly replaced medieval mapping with its symbolic approach to the world, such as the famous Hereford mappa mundi of the known world circa 1300, where it was more about conveying cultural or religious meaning than geographical accuracy. Except, that is, in one case: Palestine.
The early modern printers of Ptolemy also gave their readers a “modern map of the Holy Land” that was nothing of the sort. It was a medieval map produced not by using latitude and longitude, but using a grid to measure distances between different locations. It was orientated with the east at the top of the page and the west at the bottom. It portrayed the holy sites of Christianity and divided the land of Palestine into tribal territories.
Cranach’s map blends these two types of maps. At its top and bottom edges it has lines of meridian, but the coastline is slanted so that the entire map is orientated with the north-east at the top of the page.
It is as though Cranach couldn’t quite decide what type of map to create. Its portrayal is realistic and modern, but the map is full of symbolic geography: as your eye passes over, you journey with the Israelites from Egyptian bondage to the promised land, with all its resonant locations, such as Mount Carmel, Nazareth, the River Jordan and Jericho.
Perceptions of Palestine
The map was characteristic of Europe’s lack of interest in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman empire. What European book buyers cared for was the strange hybrid space that is the “Holy Land”: somewhere that was in our world, but also not part of it.
The towns the map portrayed were those that had flourished two millennia earlier, which for Christians were in some sense more real. They were part of the imaginative space described in their churches and scriptures.
That curious juxtaposition of ancient and modern was particularly consequential when it came to the mapping of Palestine into 12 tribal territories. The 12 tribes that descended from Jacob symbolised Christianity’s claim as true heir of Israel and its holy sites, and also what the holy sites represented: the inheritance of the heavenly Jerusalem. Lines on the map communicated the eternal promises of God.
But in the early modern period, lines began to be used to mark the borders between sovereign states. The maps of the Holy Land, neatly divided amongst the Israelite tribes, set the agenda for cartographers. As the 16th century went on, more and more maps in atlases divided the world among distinct nations with clearly defined borders.
The fact that a map divided into territories appeared in the Bible gave apparently religious authorisation for a world full of borders. Lines that had once symbolised the boundless divine promises now communicated the limits of political sovereignties.
Within Bibles themselves, maps had arrived for good. The following years saw printers experiment with various configurations, but eventually they were to settle on four maps: one of the wilderness wanderings of the Israelites, one of the territories of the 12 tribes, one of Palestine at the time of Jesus, and one of the apostle Paul’s missionary journeys.
There is a pleasing symmetry: two maps for the Old Testament, two for the New Testament. But also, two maps of journeys and two maps of the Holy Land. Such symmetries communicated the connections between events: the Old Testament was fulfilled in the New Testament, and Judaism in Christianity.
The first map in a Bible is therefore a fascinating moment in history, but a troubling one. It transformed the Bible into something like a Renaissance atlas, but deeply embedded in assumptions about Christian superiority: the Holy Land of Christian imagination displacing contemporary Palestine, and Christianity superseding Judaism.
It was also one of the agents in creating the modern world of distinct nation states. In many ways, we’ve been living with the consequences ever since.
By Nathan MacDonald, University of Cambridge
Nathan MacDonald, Professor of the Interpretation of the Old Testament, University of Cambridge
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
At what point, in your opinion, did different colors begin to be used to accent these boundaries? Were certain hues used for specific countries and why?