The Dome of the Rock: A Historical Narrative Through Architecture

The Umayyad Dome of the Rock

A Historical Narrative Through Architecture

Jerusalem: Jewish city of Solomon; Christian City of Constantine; Muslim City of ‘Abd al-Malik.

By: Jesse Mintz Supervised by Dr. Colin Mitchell

11 May 2010

2

Acknowledgments Introduction: Navigating the Holy

1 / Historiography and Methodology

2 / Religion and Politics: Traditional Historical Understandings

3 / History in Stone: Letting the Building Speak

4 / ‘Abd al-Malik: Caliph, Statesman, Patron Conclusion: Once Holy – Always Holy

3

Acknowledgments I would like to thank all of the teachers, family and friends who have helped me along the way. I would especially like to thank Dr. Colin Mitchell for his patience and understanding even when it wasn’t deserved. Lastly, I would like to dedicate this thesis to my mother.

4

Introduction

Navigating the Holy

In July 1099 Jerusalem lay in ruins: the sanctuaries dotting the Haram al-Sharif

had been looted, the major synagogues of the Jewish quarter burnt to the ground and the

citadel, towers, walls, public areas and market places largely destroyed. Coupled with

the damage to the urban edifice was the devastation that would scar the city for far longer

– the human loss. On hearing news of the imminent attack, the Fatimid appointed

governor of the city, Iftikhar ad-Dawla, is alleged to have expelled the Christian

population from the confines of the city walls, as much for their dual loyalties as for the

pragmatism of more then halving the city’s population in anticipation of the upcoming

siege and inevitable scarcity of provisions. Following a week long siege, the crusaders

breached the city walls on 14 July. Iftikhar, the last among the Muslims to withstand the

onslaught, withdrew to the Tower of David from where he offered to buy the security of

5

his entourage and himself. Raymond IV of Toulouse, one of the leaders of the First

Crusade, accepted and provided safe passage for the few remaining Muslim out of the

city. Iftikhar and his men, however, were among the only Muslims spared as nearly all of

Jerusalem’s inhabitants – Muslim and Jew alike – were massacred indiscriminately by the

conquering crusaders. Raymond of Aguilers, chronicling the First Crusade, wrote of the

devastation he encountered in the city: “it was necessary,” he writes, “to pick one’s way

over the bodies of men and horses […] in the Temple and porch of Solomon, men rode in

blood up to the knees and bridle reins [of their horses].”1 With the vast majority of

Muslims and Jews murdered, the few spared found themselves prostrate to the invading

militant knights, clergy and commoners who claimed the city as their divine reward.2

Jerusalem remained in the hands of the Christian West for three generations – the

better part of 200 years – before Saladin reestablished Muslim control of the city under

the Ayyubid dynasty in 1183. With the close of the following century, European

Christians had all but vanished from the Holy Land. And yet it would be folly to assume

that the city merely reverted back to its preexisting form after the brief foray of Crusader

rule. Numerous inscriptions attest to the Ayyubid attempts to purify the city from

Christian influence as they tried to locate Muslim lore, events and personages in their

proper places. The Haram al-Sharif, the topic of much of what follows of my thesis,

bares particular witness to the phenomenon: in an attempt to repopulate the city with

1 August Charles Krey, The First Crusade: The Accounts of Eye Witnesses and Participants (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1921) 261. 2 The story of the First Crusade, and its culmination in the conquest of Jerusalem, is the subject of countless volumes of history. This noticeably brief foray into it is based on the works of Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, volume 1 (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1953) 279-288 and Thomas Asbridge The First Crusade: A New History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004) 310-321.

6

Islamic sacred memories, many architectural forms imported by the crusaders were

mistakenly associated with pious events whose exact location had been lost.3

The transformation that Jerusalem underwent following the Crusader period was

performed as an act of cleansing. It is possible, though, to glean something of the mood

of the Ayyubid period through their actions in Jerusalem the period witnessed an ardent

search for underlying meaning in all man-made structures which both drew from and

inspired the rich tapestry of sacred memory in Jerusalem. However, despite the

enthusiasm of the Muslim religious elite at the prospect of resanctifying the city, the

Islam that had defined Jerusalem under the Umayyads and Fatimids in the seventh

through tenth centuries and the Islam that came to redefine it under the Ayyubids

following the crusades were markedly different. Some of the religious and political ideas

paramount to the way in which the Muslims came to view Jerusalem were absent in the

centuries before, or, in the very least, were severely changed. Oleg Grabar, writing of

this period, claims that the “strict and rational legal system now propounded in new

institutions like the madrasah, and a rigorous and sometimes narrow minded orthodoxy

replaced what had been a richly textured variety in the life of the faithful.”4

That the new form of Islam found in Jerusalem such a rich depository of sacred

memory from which to draw is not unique in the city’s history. Destroyed and rebuilt so

many times, the history of Jerusalem is as much a narrative of continuity through

syncretism as it is a story of rupture through conquest. The city has offered the same

allure to all those who have conquered it: namely, an emotive built edifice coupled with a

storied history of sacrality that can accommodate a variety of interpretations. 3 This is most common with small dome structures bearing Gothic and Romanesque elements. See Oleg Grabar, The Shape of the Holy: Early Islamic Jerusalem (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996) 4. 4 Ibid.

7

Photographs5 and paintings6 from over a century ago reveal that the city changed very

little from the erection of Suleiman’s walls in the sixteenth century until the beginning of

modernization in the nineteenth century; simultaneously, though, they communicate that

little of the city predates the Ayyubid period. Jerusalem, then, while built upon the

remains of much older ruins, belongs strictly to the Late Antique and medieval period. 7

My thesis will take as its focal point a tiny fraction of the city’s Late Antique and

medieval history: the years between the conquest of Jerusalem under Umar (in 636 or

638, depending upon which chronicler you follow) and the Caliphate of Al-Walid ibn

‘Abd al-Malik, one of the last great Umayyad leaders. Dedicated to understanding the

unique manifestation of Islam in Jerusalem, this my seem paradoxical as the vast majority

of Islamic monumental construction in the city belongs to the Mamluk and Ottoman

years. However, as will become clear in the pages that follow, the first centuries of

Muslim rule in the city witnessed the transformation of Jerusalem from a Christian city to

a Muslim one and created the Islamic conception of Jerusalem that would guide later

reverence for and construction of holy sites.

The central issue of my thesis is deceptively simple: how did Jerusalem change its

religion? The simplicity of the question, though, belies the complexity of its answer

insofar as the new faith interacted in a variety of manners with the preexisting

communities: at times creating new, modifying old and even adopting wholesale aspects

of the entrenched urban and religious culture. The answer to this question will take into

5 Appendix, Figure 1. 6 Appendix, Figure 2. 7 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 6.

8

account the architectural and liturgical form of the city and the behavior compelled by the

contact between the new faiths and existing religious communities.

Of foremost concern to my thesis is an understanding of the ways in which

attitudes towards and meanings of built forms evolve and grow over the years. The broad

methodological and intellectual implications that underlie my answers to these simple

questions are steeped in what I hope will come across as historical and anthropological

truths throughout my paper: the continuing significance of architectural forms; the

continuity of religious associations and pious behavior; and the syncretic thread of

tradition that suffuses all religious interchanges. Put simply, the conquest of Jerusalem

by the early Muslim community led to an inorganic transformation of the city imposed on

the existing urban space; the result of this change – Islamic Jerusalem or al-Quds –

provides a window onto the relationship of the new to the old and the present to the past,

on the mutability of a constructed environment long after its purpose is lost and of the

sacred resonances of architectural forms.

More then merely Islamic history or art, a study of the Dome of the Rock poses

questions pertaining to the breadth and development of Islamic civilization in general and

the evolution of early Islam specifically. Inasmuch as the Dome of the Rock both

depends upon and plays into a complex interwoven tapestry of cultural, political,

religious and social rationales, a study of the historical import of the monument must

utilize a multitude of diverse sources. In this paper, I will not make use of new sources; I

will, however, seek to synthesize disparate fields of study concerning the history of early

Islam under ‘Abd al-Malik. In an effort to contextualize the construction of the Dome of

the Rock, I will connect a structure long standing with the social milieu of a time long

9

since passed; or, more aptly perhaps, I will bring architecture alive as a character in the

creation of its own narrative. Through this process, I hope to glean new perspectives on

both the Dome of the Rock and the complex exegesis that has developed around it.

Chase Robinson opens the preface to his biography of ‘Abd al-Malik with the

following bold statement: “only the Prophet Muhammad himself exerted more influence

upon the course of early Islamic history [then al-Malik].”8 This is, of course, a

phenomenal claim; Robinson goes on to argue that al-Malik represents the first Muslim

state-builder and architect of what can properly be called the Islamic Empire. This

argument will be further discussed later in the paper, but what is important here is that

Robinson’s work opens, as mine does, with the Dome of the Rock. Within the building

itself, Robinson locates evidence for the beginning of the Islamic state9; as Moshe Sharon

writes, “the Dome of the Rock, a unique monument with apparently no real function, is

the key to the re-evaluation of the circumstances surrounding the beginning of Islam.”10 I

will return later in my thesis to this interpretation of ‘Abd al-Malik as empire-builder and

religious patron, as it eventually becomes clear through an analysis of architecture, art,

political and religious developments and numismatic changes that the period of ‘Abd al-

Malik marked a turning point within Islamic history: a period in which the religion and

polity were still in their infancy, still fluid and still evolving. It is only an understanding

of the period that will allow a contextualization of the Dome of the Rock itself.

Furthermore, the Dome of the Rock will come to be seen as merely one in a series of

8 Chase F. Robinson ‘Abd al-Malik (England: One World Publications, 2005) X. 9 Ibid., 6. 10 Moshe Sharon, “The Birth of Islam in the Holy Land” in The Holy Land in History and Thought; Papers Submitted to the International Conference in Relations Between the Holy Land and the World Outside It ed. Moshe Sharon (Johannesburg: Brill Academic, 1986) 229.

10

experiments that were conducted during the reign of ‘Abd al-Malik and through which

the early the Muslim state defined itself.

My thesis is divided as follows: the first chapter will briefly outline early Islamic

historiography as it relates to my paper and the methodology employed herein; the

second chapter offers the two traditional understandings of the building and explains their

limitations; the third chapter is devoted to the structure of the Dome of the Rock itself as

it presents an analysis of the building in terms of both art and architecture; and the

concluding chapter posits my own understanding of the period in which Dome of the

Rock was built and the implications for our understanding of early Islamic history.

11

I often think it odd That it should be so dull,

For a great deal of it Must be invention.

Catherine Morland on History

Northanger Abbey11

Strategically choreographed experiences of architecture have, then, an exceptional capability

for presenting new information, for retrieving forgotten meanings, and for facilitating participation in otherwise inaccessible realms.

Lindsay Jones, 200012

Chapter One

Historiography and Methodology

“It is,” as Oleg Grabar writes, “a commonplace of classical Islamic religious

writing that the Prophet himself considered Mekkah [sic], Madinah [sic] and Jerusalem as

the three holiest places of the faith.”13 Indeed, when viewed from a modern perspective,

there is little reason to question this common assertion: all three cities house monuments

of sacred memory that have acquired monumental expression; all three have long served

as sites of pilgrimage; and all three are purported to be liturgically prescribed in both the

Qu’ran and hadith traditions. Coupled with this established understanding of the three

11 Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003) 79. 12 Lindsay Jones The Hermeneutics of Sacred Architecture: Experience, Interpretation, Comparison. Volume Two: Hermeneutical Calisthenics: A Morphology of Ritual Architectural Priorities (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000) 84. 13 Oleg Grabar, “The Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem,” Ars Orientalis 3 (1959), 33.

12

holiest Islamic cities, there exists an entire corpus of medieval and modern Islamic

scholarship that has effectively mapped the religious topography of the Islamic holy

landscape – a topography in which Jerusalem fits comfortably behind the two principal

Islamic cities in the Hijaz.

The issue, though, is not only one of identification and description. The question

must be asked whether the current manifestation of these holy sites – namely, their

present location, architectural expression and their cultural and religious import – dates

from the earliest periods of Islamic development. If these traits are found to be later

creations, then the task becomes one of deciphering the layers of meaning to uncover

when and why the current identifications where initially made and what the structures,

stripped of the understandings that have evolved and accrued over the generations, were

initially intended for. Or, more simply, the religious topography and architecture of

Islam must be placed within its historical context. In this vein, my thesis will seek to

provide a frame of reference for the development of Jerusalem as an Islamic holy site

through an explication of the Dome of the Rock – taken as not only the earliest and most

symbolic manifestation of Islamic regard for the city, but also as the oldest extant Muslim

holy site retaining its original structure and one of tremendous religious, social and

political significance, both when it was built and in the centuries since.

Over a millennium has elapsed since ‘Abd al-Malik crowned Jerusalem with the

Dome of the Rock; the building has, by and large, survived intact physically14 – spared

14 Oleg Grabar discusses in detail the renovation and restoration projects that have altered both the decoration and the architecture of the Dome of the Rock. See Grabar, Shape of the Holy 52-56. While much has been changed by restoration projects under Ayyubids, Mamluks, Ottomans, Jordanians and others, his conclusion is that unlike the Ka’ba and Prophets Mosque which have been altered beyond recognition by continual construction, the Dome of the Rock visible today is consistent with the literary

13

the serial restoration and construction projects that have altered the Ka’ba and Prophet’s

Mosque – and remains a potent religious symbol and center for a living faith. To

paraphrase Julian Raby, the Dome of the Rock embodies the dual principles of stasis and

dynamis: the obvious uniformity of its structure presents stability while the octagonal

ambulatories suggest a radiating movement; coupled with this duality of fixity and

dynamism, the dome and the rock over which it sits, anchor the building thus creating a

vertical axis.15 Analogous to the simultaneous architectural allusion to both change and

permanency is the meanings that have been attached to the building. The rock, upon

which the structure is centered, symbolizes both inter-monotheistic and intra-Islamic

continuity while the interpretations and understandings of both the rock and the building

around it have evolved over the years. Again, to paraphrase Raby, the Dome of the Rock

presents an obvious and potent religious and political message for the pious; for the

scholar, though, its significance and meaning have always been contentious.16 Before

delving into such expansive topics – issues, such as they are, that will occupy the

remainder of this paper – it is necessary to understand what gives Jerusalem its unique

character; to do so requires a word on the nature of sources available.

Jerusalem, even in the Umayyad era during which it received unparalleled

economic and artistic attention, was not Rome or Constantinople; we do not posses the

wealth of sources for any Muslim city enabling a historical reconstruction such as what

evidence describing the building in the seventh century onwards, both in terms of general architecture and decoration. 15 Julian Raby, “Forward,” Bayt al-Maqdis: Abd al-Malik’s Jerusalem, Part One Ed. J. Raby and J. Johns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), VII. 16 Ibid.

14

exists for the cities of Latin Christendom.17 For that matter, Jerusalem was not Baghdad

or Mecca either; Jerusalem was neither an imperial capital nor a pan-Islamic pilgrimage

site and thus never described in detail for the glory of the empire. While no city histories

exist for Jerusalem before the pre-modern era of Muslim history, it would be incorrect to

assume a general dearth of sources. Jerusalem, rather, was afforded a tremendous

amount of attention in the first centuries of Islamic history, more so then Damascus,

Cordoba and Isfahan. The sources, though, come in other forms and we must first

understand the value, strengths and weaknesses, limitations and prejudices implicit in

each.

In all, two types of written documents coupled with five types of material

evidence will be interwoven to achieve as accurate an understanding of the era as

possible. The first three types of evidence are as follows: remote written sources,

Jerusalem centered written sources and local material evidence. Remote written sources

represent by far the largest body of evidence – if also the most problematic. Composed

outside of Jerusalem, these texts include the wide-ranging chroniclers such as Ibn Ishaq

(d. 767), Ibn Hisham (d. 835), al-Yaqubi (d. 897) and al-Tabari (d. 923), geographers

such as Ibn al-Faqih (d. circa 903) as well as hadith, tafsir and adab literature whose

unique nature and value will be discussed later. Jerusalem centered sources provide an

insiders viewpoint into the city as they were composed by either natives or those who

visited the city; to this group belong the works of native geographer Muqaddasi (d. circa

1000), Christian pilgrims such as Arculf (d. circa 700), Muslim pilgrimage guides such as

the one by Nasir-i Khosraw (d. circa 1080) and fadai’il (“virtue” or “praises”) literature

17 See, among others, Richard Krautheimer Rome, Profile of a City, 312-1308 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982).

15

datable before the crusades and of distinct significance to my thesis. Lastly, local

material evidence has been unearthed by archeologists, such as Umayyad numismatic

remains and highway signs, and the Madaba map from the mid-to-late sixth century,

which will play a pivotal role in my final chapter and conclusion.

The remainder of my source material is in actuality the only primary document at

my disposal and is what my thesis will depend most heavily on: the Dome of the Rock

itself. Primary written sources are scarce for the immediate period of my concern and the

earliest available documents are notoriously difficult to extrapolate historical particulars

from. To alleviate this obvious ahistorical dependence upon non-contemporary evidence,

I propose to use the Dome of the Rock as a text explaining its own creation. The sixty-

six inscriptions found on the Dome of the Rock suffice as merely the most obvious

purveyor of a contemporary record for the building; the location, architectural form and

mosaic decorations likewise give way to thoughtful analysis and provide the best means

of understanding the monument from the perspective of those who envisioned, designed,

patronized and constructed it. For this reason, I am deeply indebted to art and

architectural historians who have painstakingly catalogued, transcribed, translated,

described and analyzed nearly every aspect of the Dome of the Rock and, where possible,

compared it to other monuments to better elucidate meaning.18

Speaking solely in terms of historiography, this undertaking presents a number of

unique challenges. As the span of a narrative protracts, historical disconnect becomes an

18 See C.A.K. Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, Umayyads: A.D. 622-750 Second Edition Volume 1 Part 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969). Amikam Elad “Why Did ‘Abd al-Malik Build the Dome of the Rock?” Bayt al Maqdis I Ed. Julian Raby and J. Johns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), Richard Ettinghausen, Oleg Grabar and Marilyn Jenkins-Madina, Islamic Art and Architecture: 650-1250 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), Oleg Grabar, The Dome of the Rock (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006).

16

ever more imposing reality as interceding events colour our perceptions of the past and

retroactive memory takes the place of historical accuracy. This often imperceptible and

unintentional process, coupled with the contentious nature of my topic, makes a clear

historical arc impossible to define. The myriad of societal ruptures – the end of the

Umayyad Caliphate and establishment of the Abbasid, Fatimid, Seljuk Turk, Ayyubid,

Crusader and Mamluk eras, to name but a few – brought with them new historical

understandings and imposed upon the cityscape new renderings and meanings, often

concealing the original intentions.

This is best attested to by a brief example: the works of Mujir al-Din al-Ulaymi, a

native of Jerusalem and a prolific historian. Writing in the fourteenth and fifteenth

centuries, Mujir al-Din is responsible for the oldest extant work explicating the holiest

sites of Palestine. In his text, he locates Palestine, with Jerusalem and Hebron, on the

same level of Islamic importance as the Hijaz, with Mecca and Medina.19 The value of

his account, though, is primarily in elucidating the perceptions of his own period as he

supports his argument by referring to Sura al-Isra, or the Sura of the Night Journey,

which, as I will discuss in greater detail in chapter two, is an Islamic belief that had yet to

coalesce into strict dogmatic form in the early Umayyad period. What this example

shows, I hope, is that when dealing with issues of piety and religious observance,

documents must be understood within their historical context as relating only to the era in

which they are composed. At best they illuminate contemporary popular opinion; at

worst, they muddle past and present beliefs.

19 Busse, H. "Mud ̲j̲īr al- Dīn al- ʿUlaymī." Encyclopedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. 23 March 2010 <http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=islam_SIM-5308>

17

As a means of mitigating against this process of historical re-imagining which

redefined the topographical importance of the city with each subsequent dynasty, I

propose to follow Grabar’s methodology and utilize texts produced mainly before the

Crusades. The Crusades brought with them a renewed Christian attachment to the Holy

Land that superimposed more or less artificial Christian memories over the extant Jewish

and Muslim ones. This is perhaps most famously portrayed in Raphael’s The Marriage

of the Virgin20 wherein Raphael depicts the marriage of Joseph to Merry occurring in the

foreground of the Dome of the Rock – intended as a portrayal of the Temple of Solomon.

To further problematize post-Crusade texts, Max Van Berchem has shown that the

conscious attempt of Saladin and others to return the buildings on the Haram al-Sharif to

their original usages and names has at times engendered misnomers.21

It is a historiographic truism that the indiscriminate survival of historical sources

is itself a matter for history; this is an important notion to keep in mind throughout this

thesis; to quote Chase Robinson on his use of source material for his biography of Abd

al-Malik: “I have only very inadequate evidence to work with [… and] I am forced to

wrestle with my evidence.”22 In its simplest form, my thesis is about trying to understand

the Dome of the Rock from the vantage point of those who first built and used it –

namely, late seventh century Muslims. This project would be straightforward if I could

rely upon contemporary documentation to explain the design and building of the Dome of

the Rock; that is, however, impossible. That few written documents survive from this era

is an important consideration; that the documents from later centuries claiming to

20 See Appendix, Figure 3. 21 Marguerite Gautier-Van Berchem and S. Ory Muslim Jerusalem in the Work of Max Van Berchem (Geneva: Max Van Berchem Foundation, 1982) 28. 22 Robinson, ‘Abd al-Malik X.

18

represent early Muslim interpretations and understandings are convoluted, at best, is an

equally important consideration. While I hesitate in going as far as some of the

‘revisionist’ historians’, specifically Patricia Crone and Michael Cook23, I wish to follow

the methodological lines of Fred Donner’s tradition-critical account of the origins of early

Islam: the legitimation of the emerging religious community must be seen in equal parts

as both a cause and result of early Islamic writing. In other words, the narrative that we

know as early Islamic history was created, in part, for the functional use of validating its

own prophecy.24 A certain skepticism is thus required when dealing with the sources.

The communities that early Islam came into contact with were heavily dependent

upon the oral transmission of poetry for their narratives. The Islamic historiographical

tradition is thoroughly anecdotal and is indebted in form to the preexisting narrative

practice. The crucial Arabic terms to consider are hadith – literally, narrative – and

khabar – an historical account. While they are sometimes used interchangeably, hadiths

generally refer to a report of the actions of Muhammad that is normally used in

understanding Islamic jurisprudence while a khabar is used to refer to any other kind of

account. Importantly, they share two key characteristics: firstly, they both reflect the

Arabic verbs for informing and reporting; secondly, both are authenticated by an ‘isnad,

or chain of transmission. These chains provide a sense of authorship and serve to verify

the account’s veracity and authority.

The pious Islamic understanding of the importance of Jerusalem and the Dome of

the Rock relies on a hadith tradition supported by an ‘isnad. It will therefore serve us

23 See Patricia Crone and Michael Cook, Hagarism: the Making of the Islamic World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977) wherein they argue for a complete reconceptualization of the origins of Islam based wholly on non-Islamic, and mostly non-written, sources. 24 Fred Donner, Narratives of Islamic Origins: The Beginnings of Islamic Historical Writing (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1988), 135-141.

19

well to quickly elaborate on the use and value of these types of history. Precisely when

Muhammad’s views and words became recognized templates for Muslim life is the

subject of some debate. Some hold that the ‘isnads accurately record the sequential

transmission of the hadiths; according to this perspective, an authentic ‘isnad corresponds

to a knowable past and a working guide for the future. There are those, however, who

see the accretion of the ‘isnad tradition as a much more protracted process wherein chains

of transmission were only manufactured centuries later in accordance with what jurists

had established as the orthodox Islamic position.25 As will become clear in chapter two, I

tend towards the latter opinion.

Any student of the early Islamic period must therefore be astutely aware of the

problematic nature of the sources available. Stephen Humphreys writes:

If our goal is to comprehend the way in which Muslims of the late 2nd/8th and 3rd/9th centuries understood the origins of their society, then we are very well off indeed. But if our aim to find out ‘what really happened’ – i.e., to develop reliably documented answers to modern questions about the earliest decades of Islamic societies – then we are in trouble. The Arabic narrative sources represent a rather late crystallization of a fluid oral tradition […] The first seventy years of Islamic history command our attention, therefore, not only because of the enormous interest of this period, but also because of the extraordinary methodological problems posed by our principal sources for it.26

Robinson offers a tripartite division of Islamic historiography as a means of

conceptualizing the phases of historical writing. What follows is by no means the

sole system of classifying the development process of early Islamic

historiography; Robinson’s model does however serve as a functional window

25 Chase Robinson, Islamic Historiography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003) 87-89. 26 Stephen Humphreys, Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry Revised Edition. (London: I.B. Tauris, 1991), 69-70.

20

onto the issue posed by the sources. Robinson’s first phase stretches from the

time of the Prophet until 730 and is characterized by the prevalence of orality. It

would be a misnomer, according to Robinson, to speak of any uniform conception

of the past – social, political or religious.27 It is in this phase of Islamic

development – the phase that witnessed the construction of the Dome of the Rock

and the reign of ‘Abd al-Malik – that I am principally concerned with. It is this

preference for orality that informs our lack of sources for the era; as such, we are

forced to turn to other mediums for documented information – namely, surviving

architecture, numismatic analysis, coupled with poetry and later writings.

While they play only an ancillary role in my thesis, I do utilize some documents

produced after the construction of the Dome of the Rock and thus a brief word of the

periodization and development of Islamic historical writing will suffice. The birth of

what Robinson terms Islamic historiography occurs in his second phase between 730 and

830, and it is characterized by the compilation of previously oral traditions. Robinson’s

last phase concludes in 925, and is marked by the transition from monographs to

synthetic compilations wherein single-topic works are assimilated into large-scale

compositions. The process by which these compositions were created – once

characterized in typical Orientalist fashion as mere projects of collection – involved a

sifting through the annals of Islamic history and traditions to produce a coherent work.

The cogency of al-Tabari’s Tarikh al-Tabari, or History of the Prophets and Kings,

which stretches from creation until 915 has led Robinson to conclude that al-Tabari,

along with his contemporaries engaged in similar projects, “impressed their vision upon

27 Robinson, Islamic Historiography 20-24.

21

the material not merely by selecting and arranging pre-existing akhbar, but by breaking

them up, rephrasing, supplementing and composing anew.”28 In short: al-Tabari penned

his own version of history. It is thus obvious that the transmission of early Islamic

sources – and even late Islamic sources dealing with topics from the early development of

Islam – present a very real complication for the historian.

With this understanding of the development of Islamic historical writing, some

final words on Islamic historiography as it pertains to the time period concerned are

necessary. The emergence of the historical topos was a political process; the compilation

of previously oral traditions in written documents prefigured the centralization of power

as it reorganized social hierarchies, placing added importance on those holding the pen.

The third phase of Robinson’s schema marks the cognizant reorientation of history in

which contesting versions are weighed and judged, suppressing heterodox or

controversial accounts. The systemization of knowledge is never impartial and it would

be easy, and perhaps not incorrect, to see the heavy hand of imperial influence involved

in such as massive project as rethinking the very woof and warp of Islamic social life

through the collation of religious texts. Lastly, it is worth commenting on the place of the

historian within Islamic society. Historians in the emerging Islamic polity found

themselves in a precarious position: they were charged with compiling history within a

traditionalist community. In other words, the ulama – Islamic legal scholars and the real

power holders of society – believed that knowledge is better conserved then created. The

historian’s task, then, was to reinforce a worldview as established by the jurists, scholars

28 Ibid., 36.

22

and theologians and to “reflect or exemplify truths already made manifest by God, either

directly through revelation, or indirectly, through the jurist’s study of the law.”29

In addition with the written sources cited, coeval material evidence – specifically,

the Dome of the Rock itself – will augment my thesis. Following Lindsay Jones’

methodology of deconstructing and comparing religions based on what he terms

‘architecture of the sacred’, I hope to move beyond understandings garnered solely from

textual analysis. As Jones’ writes:

Religious studies as an academic field has been, and remains, overwhelmingly preoccupied with sacred books, ‘scripture,’ and thus with textual exegesis […] Too often texts alone have been and are regarded as reliable, or even viable, sources for the study of religion, while nonliterary, ‘alternative vehicles of intelligibility’ – preeminently art and architecture – are consigned to a lower evidential tier as supplementary, weaker, less reliable sources.30

This demands, then, not only the hermeneutical study of the Dome of the Rock per se but

the human experience of building in its historical context. Such a framework, dependent

on a morphological approach to the form of architecture, enables me to distinguish and

understand the simultaneous diversity of meanings inherent in ritual architectural and

contained within the structure of the Dome of the Rock itself.

Architecture as commemoration can serve many uses for historians if the

substantive content – the message of the structure – can be accessed. To understand it,

according to Jones, the discourse generated between the built structure and those who

encountered it must be recreated and deciphered: “What, once the pilgrim and the

29 Ibid., 187. 30 Lindsay Jones The Hermeneutics of Sacred Architecture XXII. Emphasis added.

23

pyramid are engaged in dialogue, is the topic of conversation?”31 If, as Jones’ writes,

“architectural events [or structures] can serve as forums not simply to recycle and

dispense old ideas, but to produce new knowledge, to construct new meanings, and to

reconfigure prevailing religio-social [sic] alignments into new ones,”32 then sacred

architecture – inherently composed to meet the demands of religion and culture – offers a

window onto the intentions and meanings of the moment.

Dana Arnold writes concerning the use of architecture for historical pursuits:

“architecture can be a built embodiment or representation of sets of social and cultural

values.”33 The Dome of the Rock, more so then most art perhaps, both reflects and

contributes to the culture in which it arose – it reflects many of the social undertones

present in the society that built it while creating for itself the religious justification which

would later serve as its primary purpose. There is, however, a lacuna of self-explanation

for the building as its meaning has been transformed over the centuries; into this lacuna

of self-explanation, though, I embark on a historical topography as the building itself

contains a living document that serves as the basis for much of my paper.

The broad methodological and historical implications of these questions are

profuse and speak more to wider movements within the narrative then specific historical

developments – movements such as the dynamic syncretism of developing religions, and

more importantly to the general passage of time and evolution of cultural, social,

religious and political meanings that accompany it. The resultant survey into these

31 Ibid., 85. 32 Ibid. [His emphasis] 33 Dana Arnold Reading Architectural History (London: Routledge, 2002) 8.

24

historical processes produces an understanding of the Dome of the Rock as a structure as

much shaped by society as responsible for shaping it.

25

Glory be to Him, who carried His servant by night from the Holy Mosque to the Further Mosque, the precincts of which We have

blessed, that We Might show him some of Our signs.

Quran, Sura al-Isra, 17:1

You shall only set out for three mosques: The Sacred Mosque, my mosque and al-Aqsa mosque.

Hadith, attributed to al-Zuhri (d. 741)34

Chapter Two

Religion and Politics: Traditional Historical Understandings

Concerning the genesis of Islamic architecture, little can be said for certain. The

first four caliphs and the early Umayyads certainly engaged in the construction of

communal buildings, first in Medina and later in Damascus, and the new garrison towns

in Syria, Iraq and Egypt were undoubtedly the site of building projects; but beyond this,

little is known of the plans, structures or materials used in early Islamic architecture. The

buildings constructed in the first decades of Islamic expansion invariably belonged to one

of two types: congregational mosques, such as those at Kufa (638) and Fustat (642), or

34 M.J. Kister “You Shall Only Set Out for Three Mosques: A Study of an Early Tradition,” Le Museon 82 (1969): 173.

26

government houses, such as were built in Kufa (639) and Damascus (644). These

buildings, as far as we can tell, were all of a rather utilitarian design; “yet, only a few

decades after these modest buildings were built, we find Caliph ‘Abd al-Malik ibn

Marwan ordering the construction of a sumptuous building – the Dome of the Rock in

Jerusalem – that had no precedent in the short history of Islamic architecture [… and] no

immediately discernible purpose or function.”35

To begin, then, I’d like to present the two traditional answers as to why ‘Abd al-

Malik built the Dome of the Rock. The first one, a religious rationale, has become the

sole pious justification for the building and the understanding generally accepted by the

faithful; the second explanation has the apparent advantage of according well with the

historical circumstances of 685-672 and, having been introduced by Yitzhak Goldhizer,

has been furthered by C.A.K. Creswell. I hope to show, though, that neither of the

established understandings of the building are sufficient as both create more historical

problems than they solve.

Popular Islamic reverence for Jerusalem derives from a complex exegetical

understanding of several Qu’ranic allusions to a mystical incident involving some

variation of Muhammad’s Night Journey and Ascension: the isra’ and mi’raj

respectively. While these events have achieved a nearly uniform understanding in

today’s Islamic world as referencing Jerusalem in general and the rock over which the

dome sits in particular, this was not always the case. Among Muslim scholars of the

seventh, eighth and ninth centuries there is little uniformity in their respective

35 Nasser Rabbat “The Meaning of the Umayyad Dome of the Rock” Muqarnas 6 (1989) 12.

27

interpretations of the Qu’ranic verses in question and the status of Jerusalem was a holy

site as a hotly debated issue amongst hadith compilers.

Any discussion concerning Muhammad’s Night Journey must necessarily begin

from the brief Qu’ranic account in sura 17: “Glory be to Him, who carried His servant by

night from the masjid al-haram [i.e. Mecca] to the masjid al-aqsa [i.e. the furthest place

of worship].” The question that must be asked of this passage is deceptively simple:

where was masjid al-Aqsa? As will become clear, early traditionalists interpreted this

passage in a number of ways and it was not until the Dome of the Rock had already been

completed that the location of Muhammad’s journey achieved its current manifestation

and the incident became localized on the Haram al-sharif. 36

The veracity, reliability or sources for the stories pertaining to Muhammad’s

Night Journey and Ascension fall beyond the scope of my paper. All I am concerned

with is the state of the ideas during the time of ‘Abd al-Malik. It is my contention that by

the end of the seventh century, the now commonly held associations of the isra’ and

mi’raj with Jerusalem were merely one amongst several possible understandings and that,

therefore, the commemoration of the Night Journey and Ascension could not have been

the impetus for the Dome of the Rock.

The oldest extant evidence we posses connecting the Night Journey and

Ascension with Jerusalem is from Ibn Ishaq’s eighth century biography of the prophet. In

it, he conflates the seemingly separate Qu’ranic accounts of the Night Journey [17:1] with

the Ascension [53:13-18] and locates the first destination in Jerusalem and the second in

heaven:

36 Heribert Busse “Jerusalem in the Story of Muhammad’s Night Journey and Ascension” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 14 (1991): 1.

28

According to what I have heard, Abdullah ibn Mas’ud [the sixth convert to Islam and one of Muhammad’s closest companions] used to say: Buraq, whose every stride carried it as far as its eye could reach and on which earlier prophets had ridden, was brought to the Messenger and he was mounted on it. His companion Gabriel went with him to see the wonders between heaven and earth, until he came to Jerusalem’s Temple […] After the completion of [his] business in Jerusalem a ladder was brought to [him] finer than any ever seen. It was that to which a dying man looks when death approaches. His companion mounted it with [him] until [they] came to one of the gates of heaven called the Gate of the Watchers.37

That this account – which was destined to survive as the common pious understanding –

was already formulated so early on does attest to its exclusivity. Rather, there existed

three concurrent interpretations all of which are dateable to the first centuries of Islam

and all of which received credible support from aspects within the community. The first,

that the journey took Muhammad to Jerusalem and then to heaven, has already been

attested to by Ibn Ishaq and is corroborated by Ya’qubi. The second interpretation, found

in the writings of Bukhari and al-Tabari, posits that the temple referred to is in fact a

celestial temple located in heaven and that Muhammad journeyed straight from Mecca to

heaven; this speculation is based on the precedent established by Quran 30:1-2 that refers

to Palestine as adna al-ardi, or, the nearest land which juxtaposes directly with al masjid

al-aqsa, the furthest mosque. The final interpretation, based on the authority of Aisha,

Muhammad’s wife, relates that the journey was a spiritual and not corporeal one wherein

his body remained in Mecca while his soul was transported to God.38

37 F.E. Peters A Reader on Classical Islam (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 65 and 168. 38 Schrieke, B.; Bencheikh, J.E.; Knappert, J.; Knappert, J.; Robinson, B.W. "Miʿrād ̲j̲." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. 06 April 2010 <http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=islam_COM-0746>

29

That such prodigious writers as Bukhari and al-Tabari rejected the first

interpretation in deference for the second should be enough to cast doubt on any notions

of widespread acceptance of the connection between Jerusalem and masjid al-aqsa in the

time of ‘Abd al-Malik. Coupled with these suspicions, Alfred Guillaume, through a

rigorous reading and comparison of two ninth century texts - Kitab al-Tarikh wa al-

Maghazi by al-Waqidi and a collection of hadith by Muhammad al-Azraqi – argues

convincingly that the reference to masjid al-aqsa alludes to al-Ji’ranah, fifteen kilometers

away from Mecca and the furthest boundary of the still sacred haram area in which

Mecca was located.39

That Jerusalem had not yet been sanctified by the localization of the prophets

Night Journey and Ascension in the early centuries of Islam is attested to by J.M. Kister’s

discussion of the early ambiguity in hadith traditions concerning the place of Jerusalem

within the sacred topography of Islamic holy cities. Kister relates several traditions

circulating during and after the reign of ‘Abd al-Malik that elevate Mecca and Medina as

liturgically prescribed holy sites while making no mention of Jerusalem. Two of

particular note are as follows: “The Prophet said according to this tradition: ‘I am the seal

of the prophets and my mosque is the seal of the mosques of the prophets. The mosques

which deserve mostly to be visited […] are the mosque of Mecca and my mosque [i.e.

Medina]. The prayer in my mosque is better than a thousand prayers in any other mosque

except that of Mecca”40; and “Ja’far al-Sadiq was asked by a man about mosques of

merits. Ja’far mentioned the mosques of Mecca and Medina. The man asked about the

Aqsa mosque and Jafar answered: ‘that is in heaven, there the Prophet was carried at

39 Alfred Guillaume, “Where Was al-Masjid al-Aqsa,” Al Andalus 18 (1953), 323-336. 40 J.M. Kister, “You Shall Only Set Out For Three Mosques” 178.

30

night.’ The man said: ‘people say bayt al-maqdis’ [i.e. Jerusalem]. Ja’far said: ‘al-Kufa is

better than that.’”41 Had the isra’ and mi’raj mentioned in the Quran indeed been

localized in Jerusalem by this time, it seems unlikely that there would have been such

reluctance to sanctify the city.

One final argument against accepting the causal link between Muhammad’s isra’

and mi’raj and ‘Abd al-Malik’s construction of the Dome of the Rock is based on the

buildings located on the Haram al-Sharif. Just north of the Dome of the Rock stands the

qubbah al-mi’raj, or the Dome of Ascension. It is not known when or by whom this

structure was built but it is thought to be a work of either Umayyad or Abbasid patronage

as it is attested to in the writings of Ibn al-Fakih and Muqaddasi as one of the two minor

domes, the other being the Dome of the Prophet. With the exception of the

congregational al-Aqsa mosque, the Dome of the Rock was the first and by far the

grandest structure erected on the Haram al-Sharif; had it been built as a monument to the

Ascension of Muhammad, surely a second domed structure would not have been so

named and dedicated. To corroborate this, Grabar cites Nasir-i Khosraw, eleventh

century Persian traveler and one of the first writers to systematically describe all the

structures on the Haram al-Sharif; in Grabar’s words, “Khosraw considers the Rock

under the Dome simply as the place where Muhammad prayed before ascending into

heaven from the place where the qubbah al-mi’raj stands.”42

If the first commonly held explanation for the erection of the Dome of the Rock is

religious in orientation, the second is political. It is based on the writings of al-Ya’qubi

(d. 874) and Eutychius (d. 940), and while “it is true that a number of later authors [such

41 Ibid., 190. 42 Grabar, “The Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 38.

31

as al-Muhallabi and Ibn ‘Abd Rabbih] repeat Ya’qubi’s account, everybody versed in the

technique of Arab historiography knows that once a story has been incorporated into the

mass historical traditions, it appears again and again in later compilations.”43 Ya’qubi

and Eutychius, cited by Goldhizer and Creswell, argue that ‘Abd al-Malik constructed the

Dome of the Rock to divert pilgrims from performing the hajj to Mecca. According to

this theory, the possession of Mecca and thus the Ka’ba was a powerful propaganda tool

for ‘Abd al-Malik’s rival, Abdallah bin al-Zubayr; as such, he sought to create an

alternative pilgrimage site to that of the Ka’ba and foster numerous holy traditions

supporting the religious importance of Jerusalem.

This theory has recently been criticized – in my mind, successfully – by Shelomo

Dov Gotein, Nasser Rabbat and Oleg Grabar. Goitein’s argument is partly negative: he

points out that the assertions made in the works of Ya’qubi and Eutychius are unique

among even their contemporaries; “the great Muslim historians of the third century,” he

writes, “who deal with the conflict between the Umayyads and Ibn Zubair [sic] in the

utmost detail [i.e. specifically al-Tabari] as well as all the earlier geographers, including

al-Maqdisi [sic], a native of Jerusalem, never made the slightest allusion to Abd al-

Malik’s alleged intention of making Jerusalem instead of Mecca the center of Islam.”44

Furthermore, each author’s account contain other statements which cast doubt on their

objectivity or veracity: Eutychius claims that ‘Abd al-Malik and his successor al-Walid

forbade the pilgrimage altogether, even after al-Zubayr was defeated while Ya’qubi

extends this accusation to all Umayyad leaders. These claims stand in direct contrast

with the writings of al-Tabari and Ibn Sa’d [d. 845] who claim, respectively, that four 43 Shelomo-Dov Gotein, “The Historical Background of the Erection of the Dome of the Rock,” Journal of American Oriental Society 70 (April-June 1950), 105. 44 Ibid., 104.

32

camps, including one composed of Umayyad Muslims went on pilgrimage in 690 and

that ‘Abd al-Malik led the hajj following the defeat of al-Zubayr.45 These discrepancies

allow Goitein to conclude that Eutychius erroneously picked up on a the tradition began

by Ya’qubi, an unabashed partisan for the Shi’ites, which in turn was passed down

through historiographical channels; because of Ya’qubi’s partisan religious and political

views, then, little credence can be given to his testimony.

To further discredit Yaqubi – and, by proxy, the theory that the Dome of the Rock

represents a political and religious maneuver by ‘Abd al-Malik – it will bear well to

discuss briefly Islamic hajj. One of the five pillars of Islam, the hajj is the liturgically

proscribed pilgrimage to Mecca undertaken at least once by all healthy Muslims. The

expanding Muslim community realized early on that as their empire expanded, the

practical difficulties of performing tawaf – the circumambulation of the Ka’ba during hajj

– became to difficult. “In order to compensate the faithful,” Goitein writes, “certain rites

of the hajj, in particular the most holy wuquf, the standing in the presence of God, was

observed in the great provincial capitals, a procedure called ‘arraf (Ta’rif).”46 Ta’rif –

circumambulation of a sacred site in a provincial capital – was established by Abdallah

bin al-Abbas, one of the companions of the prophet, when he served as the Amir of

Basra. So, when Nasir-i Khosraw writes of the thousands who descend upon Jerusalem

and perform the wuquf, he is speaking of the custom of ta’rif.47

That the Dome of the Rock could not have been envisioned by ‘Abd al-Malik as a

replacement of the Ka’ba and ritual hajj is patently clear from the historical record. Such

45 Rabbat, “The Meaning of the Umayyad Dome of the Rock” 16. 46 Goitein “Historical Background” 105. 47 Ibid.

33

an action would have marked him as a Kafir against whom Jihad is obligatory. Two

aspects of Abu Bakr al-Wasiti’s eleventh century Fada’il al-Bayt Muqqadas account of

the construction period further problematize any possibility of ‘Abd al-Malik

transgressing against Islam. The first involves Raja ibn Hayweh, one of the supervisors

of the construction; Hayweh was an experienced assistant of ‘Abd al-Malik’s and an

advisor to two later caliphs; he was a renowned Tabi’, a scholar of the generation that

followed the companions of Muhammad, and was an often quoted transmitter of hadith.48

In short, Hayweh was a respected pious Muslim who would never have consented to

undermining Mecca. Al-Wasiti also relates the lengths to which ‘Abd al-Malik went to

ensure that his project was well received by his fellow Muslims:

When ‘Abd al-Malik wanted to build the Dome of the Rock, he came from Damascus to Jerusalem. He then sent to all his deputies in all his dominions. He wrote, ‘Abd al-Malik plans to build a dome over the Rock to shelter the Muslims from cold and heat, and to construct the masjid. But before he starts he wants to know his subjects’ opinion.’ With their approval, the deputies wrote back, ‘May God permit the completion of this enterprise, and may He count the building of the dome and the masjid a good deed for ‘Abd al-Malik and his predecessors.49

This is in accordance with Goitein’s remarks concerning the piety of ‘Abd al-Malik:

“according to all we know, ‘Abd al-Malik himself was an orthodox and observant

Muslim.”50 All of this evidence taken together compels us to reject the idea that the

Dome of the Rock represented ‘Abd al-Malik’s attempt to replace the preeminent

religious structure of Islam.

48 M. Anwarul Islam and Zaid F. Al-Hama “The Dome of the Rock: Origin of its Octagonal Plan” Palestine Exploration Quarterly 139 (2007) 109. 49 Nasser Rabbat “The Dome of the Rock Revisited: Some Remarks on al-Wasiti’s Accounts” Maqarnas 10 (1993) 68. 50 Goitein, “Historical Background” 105.

34

It appears then that the textual evidence is incapable of providing an explanation

for the Dome of the Rock. Neither a commemoration of Muhammad’s Night Journey

and Ascension nor a politically motivated attempt to divert the hajj withstands historical

scrutiny. The question of why ‘Abd al-Malik constructed the Dome of the Rock is

therefore as pertinent as ever. The next chapter presents my solution to the lacuna of

contemporary evidence: a turn inwards to evidence provided by the building itself. An

analysis of the building as its own contemporary text will allow a much more complex

and precise explanation than has hitherto been offered for the erection of Islam’s first

major monument.

35

Unlike other visual arts, architecture is an art of life itself expressed in life-sized scale.

Amos Ih Tia Chang, 195651

But beyond this pedigreed “history in stone” exists an anonymous architecture that transmits a different aspect of life. It testifies to the aspirations of the group. Its buildings tell not the official but

the private history of a culture – the unending struggle for physical and spiritual survival of anonymous men. Indigenous buildings

speak the vernacular of the people.

Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, 197652

Monumentality … always embodies and imposes a clearly intelligibly message. It says what it wishes to say – yet it hides a

good deal more.

Henri Lefebvre, 199153

Chapter Three

History in Stone: Letting the Building Speak

Over a millennium has elapsed since the construction of the Dome of the Rock in

Jerusalem during the final years of the seventh century C.E.54 Heralded as the earliest

51 Amos Ih Tia Chang, The Tao of Architecture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956) 42. 52 Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, Native Genius in Anonymous Architecture in North America (New York: Schocken Books, 1976). 53 Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space Trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 1991) 143. 54 Following Oleg Grabar, the Index Islamicus states the date of completion is generally accepted as 72 A.H/C.E. 691-692 by an inscription on the outer face of the octagon where al-Ma’mun replaced ‘Abd al-Malik’s name with his own; it is generally accepted that the monument was begun in 69 A.H./A.D. 688-689. I will, however, be arguing in chapter four that the date of 72 A.H. inscribed on the out octagon refers not to a terminus ad quem but rather to a terminus a qou – that 72 A.H. is in fact the date of the beginning

36

manifestation of classical Islamic architecture and the first major artistic endeavor of the

Umayyads by such renowned Islamic art and architecture historians as C.A.K.

Creswell55, Richard Ettinghausen56 and Oleg Grabar57, the Dome of the Rock still

dominates much of the Old City of Jerusalem.

As Eric Fernie writes: “direct communication with the artifacts of a society

provides a means of understanding that society arguably as important as that of the

written word.”58 Communication, in this case, with the Dome of the Rock, necessitates a

description of the structure and of its visual impact and place within Jerusalem. This

description includes the architectural framework that creates the buildings basic form, the

mosaic decoration and art that adorns it, the inscriptions that wreathe it inside and out

and, lastly, the location upon which it was built. I will describe first the architectural

skeleton to provide a working image of the building; this will be followed, in order of the

informational specificity and precision with which they can be described and explained,

by the inscriptions, mosaic decorations and lastly the location.59 With these features

adequately described, I will turn to the more speculative task of interpreting the building

in subsequent chapters. My description of the building necessarily relies on secondary

of ‘Abd al-Malik’s construction and that the Dome of the Rock was not complete until at least 75 A.H. My argument will draw on both Sheila Blair’s “What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock,” in Bayt al Maqdis: ‘Abd al-Malik’s Jerusalem, Part One ed. Julian Raby and Jeremy Johns (Oxford: University of Oxford Press, 1992) 59-78 and Jeremy Johns, in Archeology and the History of Early Islam: the First Seventy Years (Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 46 (2003): 411-436. 55 See C.A.K. Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, Umayyads: A.D. 622-750 Second Edition Volume 1 Part 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969). 56 See Richard Ettinghausen, Oleg Grabar and Marilyn Jenkins-Madina, Islamic Art and Architecture: 650-1250 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003). 57 See Oleg Grabar, The Dome of the Rock (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006). 58 Eric Fernie, “History and Architectural History,” Transaction of the Royal Historical Society 13 (2003): 204. 59 Following what Max van Berchem called the “archaeological index” of a document, or, the range of its value in elucidating a monument, the order in which I present the evidence reflects the amount of precision in our ability to interpret it.

37

sources and borrows extensively from C.A.K. Creswell, Oleg Grabar, Max van Berchem,

Margeurite van Berchem and Miryam Rosen-Ayalon.60

Architecture

The Dome of the Rock is a building of extreme simplicity.61 Before I describe the

architecture of the building, though, it is important to make note of the comparable

buildings that preceded it and that, in all likelihood, served as templates from which the

architects borrowed. The basic shape – a circle surrounded by a double octagonal

ambulatory – was a fairly common architectural model in Late Antique and early

Christian or early Byzantine architecture. Grabar locates antecedent architectural forms

in the funerary structures of the late Roman Empire (the tomb of Diocletian in Spalato

and the Santa Constanza in Rome specifically) which later became a common form for

baptisteries all over the Christian world. Importantly, the shape mirrors many already

found in Jerusalem at the time of its construction: namely, the rotunda around the Holy

Sepulchre, the octagonal Church of Ascension on the Mount of Olives and the Tomb of

the Virgin in the Kedron Valley. Furthermore, similar design plans have been excavated

in sites across Palestine, including the archbishop’s palace in Bosra, the Church of the

Virgin on Mount Geirizim and a recently discovered and still contested octagonal church

in Caesarea. All of these buildings – sharing similar structural patterns as the Dome of

the Rock – were designed according to standard ratios between the circumference of the

60 I have included only the barest technical details but a brief introduction to the language of architecture is necessary: Ambulatory – place for walking, usually around an apse Arcade – passage for walking covered by a vaulted dome supported by piers Colonnade – a long sequence of coloumns joined by their entablature, in this case the dome Drum – circular wall supporting a dome 61 See Appendix, Figure 4.

38

circle circumscribing the whole building and the one around its focal center.62 Thus

understood, the basic structure of the Dome of the Rock borrowed heavily from the

monumental architecture of the time.

Paraphrasing Creswell, the Dome of the Rock can be described as follows63: it is

an annular, or ring-shaped, building consisting of a dome, built originally of wood, 20.44

meters in diameter, set atop a high drum containing sixteen windows and resting on a

circle made up of four piers and twelve columns arranged so as three columns alternate

with each pier. This circle of supports is set over the Rock and is itself surrounded in

turn by a double octagon ambulatory. The exterior octagon is made up of eight wall

faces each measuring 20.59 meters in length and 9.50 meters in height. Externally, each

wall features seven shallow bays while internally each features five windows. An

entrance way is positioned at each of the four cardinal directions and each features a

portico. The inner octagonal arcade, in between the outer walls and the Rock itself, is

composed of eight piers and sixteen columns on top of which rest wooden beams that

were once covered with sheets of bronze and brass and decorated with mosaic designs.

The current dome, erected in 1999, is covered with an aluminum alloy that produces a

gilded effect; it stands in sharp contrast with the dull lead-covered dome that existed until

1960. The earliest written sources mention the golden appearance of the dome and we

can thus safely imagine that the Umayyad structure employed a similar gilded effect.64

62 Grabar, The Shape of the Holy 107-108. 63 What follows is Creswell’s attempt to recreate the building in the time of ‘Abd al-Malik based on our knowledge of the renovation projects and eyewitness accounts. Renovations over the years have changed many details – such as the porticos preceding the doorways – but most of what Creswell describes remains intact today. 64 C.A.K. Creswell Early Muslim Architecture 68-76.

39

As far as the architecture is concerned, the utter simplicity of the building seems

to suggest a straightforward usage: a sanctified central point is surrounded by two

ambulatories creating what appears to be a walkway topped by a dome, apparently

demanding circumambulation. But the clarity of design is bellied by the vagueness of its

intent: it was certainly not designed for prayer as there is neither a designated direction

nor space for the faithful to gather and even circumambulation would prove problematic

as people would be exiting and entering from every door simultaneously, creating a

chaotic space in comparison to the open design of the Ka’ba. In terms of architecture, the

design follows the paradigmatic structured ciborium, or reliquary, in which a dome sits

above a sacred space; this model was common among Christian martyria, or early

Christian edifices honouring a martyr, and was particularly widespread in the Levant.

Summing up the information gleaned from the design, Grabar writes: “the architecture

confirms the symbolic quality of place of commemoration of the Dome of the Rock, but it

does not provide us with any more specific clue with respect to its meaning at the time of

‘Abd al-Malik.”65

While the building’s design may not have been unique, the completed structure is

certainly distinct for several reasons, least among them being its massive size and artistic

perfection. There are several architectural anomalies – unique among the comparable

structures – that create the special character of the Dome of the Rock and provide subtle

hints to its use. One such anomaly in the architecture is that the sets of columns in the

circular arcade are not symmetrical but are a few centimeters off (about 3 degrees) from

what their correct geometrical location should be. Only recently have scholars analyzed

65 Grabar, “The Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 46-47. [His emphasis].

40

the geometric implications of the anomaly and realized that, in both plan and elevation,

the composition of the building was based on the irrational proportions of the Golden

Mean (the same proportions of the Parthenon). The visual consequences of this, though,

prove even more amazing: the asymmetrical orientation of the columns allows the

viewer, no matter what entrance they enter from, to see all the way through the building –

from darkness, to light in the middle, and to darkness again. Visually, then, the visitor is

not invited to move around the building but rather to gaze through it. What’s more, the

column alignment affects the lighting of the central space creating a mysterious

atmosphere: the central cylindrical space set over the Rock is dominated by a shaft of

light from above. The resultant lighting is such that from very few places in the building

are either the dome – the crowning architectural achievement – or the Rock – the

centerpiece of the building – visible to the visitor.66

These peculiarities allow us to draw some conclusions about the intention, if not

meaning, behind the Dome of the Rock. Firstly, the dome itself was primarily for

external display. An often quoted text by Muqaddasi, a native of Jerusalem, praises the

aesthetic achievement of the building and establishes one of the possible explanations for

its construction: upon asking his uncle if it was indeed wise of al-Walid, ‘Abd al-Malik’s

successor, to expend so much money on the construction of the Great Mosque of

Damascus, Muqaddasi’s uncle responds:

O my little son, you have no understanding. Verily al-Walid was right and he was prompted to a worthy work. For he beheld Syria to be a country that had long been occupied by the Christians, and he noted there the beautiful churches still belonging to them, so enchantingly fair and so renowned for their splendor, as are the Qumanah [literally refuse, vulgar pun on qiyamah or resurrection, the Arabic name for the Church of the

66 Grabar, The Dome of the Rock 75-77.

41

Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem] and the churches of Lydda and Edessa. So he sought to build for the Muslims a mosque that should prevent their gazing at these and that should be unique and a wonder to the world. And in this manner is it not evident how the caliph ‘Abd al-Malik, noting the greatness of the dome of the Qumanah and its magnificence, was moved, lest it should dazzle the minds of the Muslims, and hence erected over the Rock the Dome which is seen there?67

According to both Muqaddasi and the architecture, then, the Dome of the Rock presented

a forceful statement of Islamic ascendancy to the entire city. The message of the building

is self-contained in the golden dome that dominates the city’s skyline. That the dome is

visible well before the entrances come into sight attests to the fact that the building does

not a priori require a visit to understand it; meaning, in comparison with the Holy

Sepulchre whose architecture conveys a hierarchy of form and function that ushers one

inside to partake in the innermost sanctum, the first architectural message of the Dome of

the Rock is that the shrine itself is as important for what it is rather then what happens

within it.68 The second message the architecture sends is gleaned from the deliberate

lighting of the building itself: that the lighting succeeds in hiding the Rock from view

seems to imply that the building was constructed in such a way as to convey the sanctity

of a space without defining the exact nature of the sacrality being experienced – or, in

other words, that the inviolability of the Dome of the Rock derives equal parts from the

building itself as it does from the Rock over which it sits.

No certain conclusion can be drawn in regards to the structure’s intended purpose

or meaning solely from its architecture. The language of the building – the circle within

an octagon within an octagon design – clearly places the architecture within the Late

Antique era of Mediterranean design. In terms of planning, design and construction, the

67 C.A.K. Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture 66. 68 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 105-106.

42

Dome of the Rock could have been a seventh century Byzantine, Italian or Western

European structure; and yet the uniqueness of the building is simultaneously undeniable,

both within Islam and other cultures. The remarkable nature of the monument is

dependent on the quality of its harmonious proportions. It captivates in each successive

generation and by doing so, transcends its own meaning and function: “some unusual

manipulations of the geometry – the inordinate height of the cupola, the power of light in

the center of the building – have led to a work of architectural art that demands

rationalization in each period of history, because no one can remain indifferent to its

aesthetic merit.”69 At best, then, the architecture of the Dome of the Rock reveals it to be

“an example of artistic adaptation in which early Islamic patrons and builders modified

existing traditions to meet the needs of a new religion and culture.”70

Inscriptions

The Dome of the Rock is unusually rich in inscriptions. The two main

inscriptions, encircling the inner and outer faces of the octagonal arcade respectively, are

still preserved in their entirety and, barring the well-documented substitution of al-

Ma’mun’s name for that of ‘Abd al-Malik’s in the foundation inscription, are reliably

Umayyad. The inscriptions are composed of six varieties of text – invocations,

professions of faith, eulogies for Muhammad, prayers for Jesus, Qu’ranic excerpts and

the foundation proclamation.71

With the exception of the portion naming the builder, the inscription is almost

exclusively religious and consists largely of Qu’ranic quotations. Grabar has shown that

69 Ibid., 110. 70 Islam and al-Hamad, “The Dome of the Rock: Origins of its Octagonal Plan” 117. 71 Sheila Blair, “What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock?” in Bayt al-Maqdis: Jerusalem and Early Islam Ed. Jeremy Johns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000) 74.

43

an interpretation of the Qu’ranic quotations chosen for a monument can lead to an

understanding of the purpose intended: for example, the Nilometer of Rawdah contains

Qu’ranic inscriptions extolling the value of water as a life giving substance.72 We can

therefore hope to infer from an interpretation of the accompanying inscriptions the

purpose of the building.

Originally read by Max van Berchem as a single continuous text – thus placing

the foundation inscription in the middle – subsequent scholars have separated the

inscriptions into two distinct components, dividing the text thematically and by position,

following the template established by other Islamic monumental inscriptions wherein the

foundation proclamation is located at the end. Christel Kessler, researching extensively

during the restoration projects of the 1960s, worked to understand the differences

between the two inscriptions: according to Kessler, the outer inscription is experienced

only briefly as the visitor enters the building allowing, them to read only a proximal

segment at a time; this is in direct contrast with the inner inscription surrounding the

Rock itself which was intended to be read in its entirety as the visitor moves through the

monument.73 Kessler argues convincingly that the inner inscription represents the

structures main message – and it is here that we shall begin.

A continuous mosaic frieze measuring 240 meters, the inner inscription is located

just above a cornice that supports the ceiling all around the octagonal arcade. The

inscription can be divided into six segments, each one beginning with the basmalah. To

start from the beginning, then, the inscription opens with the declaration of faith and is

followed by conflated Qu’ranic verses [64:1 and 57:2] enumerating the powers of God; 72 Grabar, “Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 53. 73 Estelle Whelan, “Forgotten Witness: Evidence for the Early Codification of the Qu’ran” Journal of the American Oriental Society 118 (1998) 4.

44

Muhammad is then introduced with a blessing that, while not directly from the Quran,

was no doubt in common use by 694.74 Following the introduction of Muhammad is the

longest Qu’ranic quotation, and the most important for our purposes here, from surah

4:171-172, describing the prophet-hood and mortality of Jesus and concluding with a

threat of divine reckoning:

O ye People of the book, do not go beyond the bounds of your religion and do not say about God except the Truth. Indeed the Messiah Jesus son of Mary was an envoy of God and his word He bestowed on her as well as a spirit from Him. So believe in God and in his envoys and do not say ‘three’; desist, it is better for you. For indeed God is one God, far be from His glory that he should have a son. To Him belong what is in heaven and what is on earth and it is sufficient for Him to be a guardian. The Messiah does not disdain to be a servant of God, nor do the angels who are near Him. And all who disdain His service and are filled with pride, God will gather them all to Himself.75

The inscription on the outer face similarly consists of six unequal parts separated

by ornamentation, the concluding one being the foundation notice. Each of the five

segments begins with the basmallah, followed in the first four by the Umayyad shahadah

and a verse from the Quran creating a self-contained and coherent message followed by a

blessing on Muhammad. The themes dealt with are: the singularity of God [surah 112],

the preeminent place of Muhammad [surah 33:56], the mortality of Jesus [surah 17:111]

and the immeasurable extent of Divine power [combination of surah 64:1 and 57:2].76

There exist two additional inscriptions, on the east and north door respectively,

both of which are attributable to the era of ‘Abd al-Malik. They are less explicit but

nevertheless warrant a quick enumeration. The east gate inscription contains several

Qu’ranic quotations dealing with faith [2:256, 2:111, 24:35, 3:25, 6:12, 7:155] and a long

74 Whelan, “Evidence for the Early Codification of the Quran” 5. 75 Grabar Shape of the Holy 60. 76 Whelan, “Evidence for the Early Codification of the Quran” 5-6.

45

prayer for the Prophet. Importantly, the inscription on the east door introduces the idea

of Muhammad as an intercessor between the faithful and God – a heterodox idea, I will

argue in the following chapter, that is exemplar of the experimentation with expressions

of piety that marked the reign of al-Malik. The inscription on the north door contains the

first known example of the “prophetic mission” from surah 9:33 that would become

standard inscription on all Muslim coins.

The significance of these inscriptions is tremendous for our understanding of the

Dome of the Rock and early Islam, as much for what was omitted as what was included.

To begin, then, most obviously with what was omitted: there is no mention of the isra’ or

mi’raj of the prophet and there is no allusion to the monument as a commemoration of

Muhammad’s mystical ascent to heaven. The third passage on the outer face of the

monument includes a portion of surah 17, the chapter of the Night Journey; the segments

included, though, are not connected with the isra’ at all, but rather deal explicitly with the

place of Jesus within the pantheon of mortal prophets – a further argument against the

pious belief that already in the time of ‘Abd al-Malik, Jerusalem was associated with

Muhammad’s Ascension.

In addition to this most glaring omission is any mention of Abraham, David or

Solomon. Later Muslim generations undoubtedly assimilated much of the preexisting

Judeo-Christian mythology surrounding Jerusalem and established their own to

complement it; some Islamic traditions would later posit that the Rock was the even

shetiyah, or foundation stone and navel of the earth; Abraham, according to some

sources, nearly sacrificed Ishmael on the Rock over which the Dome of the Rock was

built; David prayed for the cessation of a Divine plague from the Rock; and Solomon

46

constructed his temple and laid the Ark of the Covenant on the Rock. Yet the absence of

their names from the inscriptions precludes any explanation that involves their personas

as the impetus for the building.

The inscriptions lend themselves to a variety of interpretations and what follows

is my attempt to incorporate them into a reading of the building as a whole that

accommodates as many sources as possible while excluding as few. The inscriptions on

the Dome of the Rock represent the oldest extant Qu’ranic inscriptions and are thus

tremendously important in our understanding of the codification of the Quran itself. The

question of when the Quran was assembled is one that still generates dispute among pious

and scholastic circles. Put briefly, the traditional Islamic contention is that the Quran

achieved its final form during the reign of Uthman, between 644-661, well before the era

of ‘Abd al-Malik. Many historians remain skeptical of this chronology, though, asserting

a much later date, ranging from the reign of Mu'awiyah, 661-680, to the end of the ninth

century.77 While it is tremendously unlikely that the chronology and evolution of the

Quran will ever be ascertained with certainty, Whelan and Grabar have established a

working hypothesis: the Quran, while not yet standardized and canonical, was public

property and well developed structurally by the ascendancy of ‘Abd al-Malik. The

implications of this for the choice of inscriptions, Grabar asserts, is that an oral tradition

is more likely to have influenced the choices for inscriptions then a written one. This

accommodates the minor textual variants between the Quran and the inscriptions. From

this, though, we can conclude that “there must have been a social, political or intellectual

mechanism for the composition of the inscription and, therefore, for the conceptualization

77 See Estelle Whelan, “Evidence for the Early Codification of the Quran,” for a discussion of the revisionist arguments put forward by John Wansbrough and the traditional argument.

47

of the buildings purpose.”78 The orality and fluidity of the Quran during the era of al-

Malik will be furthered in the following chapter.

Before I discuss the overall message of the inscriptions, it is important to note that

one segment has received more attention then the rest: the dedication inscription at the

end of the last segment on the outer wall of the octagon, wherein al-Ma'mun, who ruled

from 813-833, substituted his name for that of 'Abd al-Malik without changing the

inscriptions date of 691-692. Following Berchem, this is generally seen as a prise de

possession through which al-Ma’mun sought to establish a new legitimacy on an older

monument. Al-Ma’mun’s actions are further interesting, though, because he also restored

sanctuaries in Mecca and Medina. In the actions of al-Ma’mun, Grabar locates an early

example of what would become a common expression of Islamic power that would

continue under the Fatimids and culminate in the Ottoman ruler, Suleiman the

Magnificent: the legitimation of rule through the veneration and restoration of the three

holy cities of Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem.

The most obvious implication of the inscriptions is their formulaic doxological

pattern: praises from the Quran, requests for Divine mercy and salvation and the

evocation of the ruling prince. These traits, Amikam Elad argues, bear striking

resemblance to the liturgical practices of the contemporaneous Christian and Jewish

communities.79 This point is emphasized by Grabar: “the rhetorical psychological and

emotional pattern of prayers, praises and blessings leading to a long combination of

divinely revealed passages is a model probably used in many faiths with a revealed text

78 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 63. 79 Amikam Elad, “Why did ‘Abd al-Malik Build the Dome of the Rock? A Re-Examination of the Muslim Sources” in Bayt al-Maqdis: Jerusalem and Early Islam Ed. Jeremy Johns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000) 48.

48

and a transcendental God.”80 As with the architectural design, then, the inscriptions seem

to imply an Islamic variant of an already common model.

The inscriptions can be understood from two contrasting points of view: from an

intra-religious paradigm and from a strictly Muslim one. Thematically speaking, the

inscriptions emphasize three points: first, the basic tenets of Islam are proclaimed,

including the power and singularity of God and his dominion over heaven and earth;

second, the universality of Muhammad’s mission is asserted; and, lastly, the position of

Jesus as a mortal prophet is forcefully stated. Beyond these simplistic classifications,

though, several peculiarities remain to be discussed: of the ninety-three Qu’ranic verses

dealing with Jesus, the five incorporated into the inscriptions avoid most contentious

issues dividing the Christian and Muslim communities – issues such as the virgin birth,

death and resurrection. The Dome of the Rock, then, is on the one hand a intra-religious

building with a missionary, and rather ecumenical, character: it stresses a neutral image

of Jesus while exhorting Jews and Christians to submit to the final and encompassing

faith. The message to Muslims, though, was quite different in nature. The inscriptions

seem to echo Muqaddasi’s words, discussed earlier, of the ascendancy of Islam. Within

this paradigm, if the Dome of the Rock represented an answer to the Christian churches

of Jerusalem then the inscriptions upon it furnished the Muslims with arguments against

Christian positions. As Christel Kessler writes, “this first monumental building of Islam,

planted in the heart of the supreme Christian city, modeled after Christian churches and

intended to surpass them in splendor [… whose] inscription was designed to add spiritual

guidance. It was to specify and rectify what was believed to be a fundamental but not

80 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 67.

49

irreconcilable difference between Islam and Christianity.”81 The broad themes of the

inscriptions – eschatological, missionary and liturgical – identify many pre-Islamic

notions of Jerusalemite piety fitted to the new Islamic model.82

The question, then, of what the inscriptions tells us is intrinsically tied to the

problem of identifying the audience to whom they were addressed. A Muslim entering

the building would be able to take in the entire inscription proclaiming fundamentals of

the faith and the ascendancy of Islam and the errors of Christianity; a Christian,

meanwhile, viewing the building from the outside would see individual and self-

contained messages about the truth of Islam and its incorporation of Christianity. The

inscriptions allow us to conclude, then, that the Dome of the Rock was not built in

commemoration of Muhammad’s mystical Night Journey or Ascension; however, the

question of why it was then built must remain unanswered until we have discussed its

decoration and location.

Decoration

The mosaics of the Dome of the Rock have captivated visitors since the building

was erected. Next to the Norman cathedral of Monreale, they represent the largest

repository of medieval wall mosaics. But beyond the purely aesthetic beauty, an

understanding of the meanings behind the subjects and forms of the mosaics will reflect

conscious artistic choices made in the seventh century and may help clarify the

significance of the building itself.

81 Christel Kessler, “’Abd al-Malik’s Inscription in the Dome of the Rock: A Reconsideration” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland (1970): 12. 82 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 68.

50

In terms of subject matter, the vast majority of the decorative themes consist of

vegetal motives, mingled with vases, cornucopias, scrolls, wings, trees, and what appear

to be body and costume jewels; there is general scholastic agreement that the inspiration

for the decorative motifs chosen was the rich repertoire of Late Antique design,

borrowing from both Byzantine and Sassanian traditions. Attempts to understand the

importance of these decorative themes have generally led to two scholarly camps: the

first represents an antiquated conception of early Islamic culture which takes as its

starting point an assumed artistic vacuum in the first centuries of Islamic expansion.

Epitomized by the work of Marguerite can Berchem, it proffers a purely ornamental

understanding of the mosaic decoration in the absence of uniquely Islamic themes or

perceived carriers of meaning, such as representations of people, landscapes or

monuments.83 A second approach, one espoused by Ettinghausen and Grabar, “proposes

meanings based on the iconographic or evocative explanation of selected motifs.”84 I

propose to employ the second methodology.

Scholars have consistently located two broad messages implicit in the mosaic

decoration of the Dome of the Rock: the first is based on the vegetal motifs that pervade

the entire arrangement while the second is based on the presence of crowns and jewels on

the inner face of the octagon facing the Rock. It is unnecessary to describe the entirety of

the mosaic decoration; it will suffice for our purposes to note only the most dominant

themes: these include a variety of trees with multicolored trunks; luxuriant blossoms and

thick tendrils growing in unnatural fashions such as heart-shaped imbrications; clusters of

83 C.A.K. Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture 2nd Edition (Oxford: University of Oxford Press, 1969) 321-322. 84 Grabar Shape of the Holy 73.

51

fruit including grapes, pomegranates and dates.85 These have been interpreted as

evocations or representations of Solomon’s Temple. Just how these associations are

constituted will become clear after I discuss the importance of Solomon’s Temple in

early Islam.

Priscilla Soucek contends that Solomon’s Temple was incorporated relatively

early on in Islamic history into an important religious topos and that its construction and

destruction were important events in the history of the pre-Islamic world. She cites

historians Ibn Qutayba (d. 889), Ali al-Masudi (d. 956), Hamza Isfahani (d. 961) and al-

Biruni (d. circa 1050), all of whom discuss the temples destruction as an act of

desecration.86 Islamic sources elaborated on the building’s decoration: historian

Dinawari (d. circa 895) claims that it “shone in the darkness of a moonless night like a

brilliant lamp because of the quantities of jewels and gold use in its construction.”87

More pertinent to our discussion, though, is the account of al Tabari and Muhallabi

wherein they write of trees springing forth from the ground fully grown during the

temple’s construction; furthermore, the trees which grew in garden were artificial trees

made of gold and jewels and yet they bore real fruit.88 From these examples, Soucek is

able to conclude that, “the history of the Temple was considered to be part of the past of

Islam […] Islamic sources were far more concerned with the decoration of the Solomonic

Temple than with its dimensions or architectural structure”89; and that “the character of

[the Dome of the Rock’s] decoration suggests that the memory of the magnificent

85 Ibid. 86 Priscilla Soucek, “The Temple of Solomon in Islamic Legend and Art,” in The Temple of Solomon Ed. J. Gutmann (Michigan: Scholars Press) 74-77. 87 Ibid., 85. 88 Ibid., 87. 89 Ibid., 88.

52

decoration of the earlier structure was influential in the selection of decorative themes for

the Islamic building.”90

It is thus possible to see the vegetal mosaic decoration as an evocation and tribute

to the Solomonic Temple. The second approach to understanding the mosaic decoration

stems from Margeurite van Berchem’s observation that the jewel decoration –

specifically, shining rings of gold and diamonds, bejeweled vases, bejeweled almond

shaped ornament, breastplates, necklaces, pins and earrings, diadems, and pairs of wings

framing crowns and tiaras – are not dispersed uniformly but are positioned predominantly

on the inner face of the octagonal colonnade, facing the Rock.91 That mother-of-pearl

jewels, a common motif in Late Antique mosaic design, are located throughout the

building while these specific jeweled decorations appear almost exclusively facing the

central point of the structure has led Grabar, Ettinghausen and Soucek to conclude that

there must be some other reason beyond pure aesthetic decoration explaining their

positioning.

One possible reason for the mosaic layout hinges on the identification of the

jeweled elements as the royal ornaments of the Muslim communities two chief rivals: the

Byzantine and Sassanian empires respectively. Specifically, the winged-crowns and

tiaras are reminiscent of Sassanian insignias while the crowns, breastplates, earrings,

necklaces and diadems reflect the garb of Byzantine emperors and empresses as they

appear in the mosaics of Ravenna.92 What the mosaic decoration of the Dome of the

Rock represents, then, is a conscious – because of its location – depiction of Islam’s

90 Ibid., 98. 91 Grabar, “Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 47. 92 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 91.

53

vanquished enemies symbols of imperial power within the inner sanctum of a sacred

monument – the question is why.

It would be simple to explain the presence of crowns and symbols of royal power

within the Dome of the Rock as an echo of the common Christian practice of including

votive symbols within their sanctuaries.93 While early Islam undoubtedly borrowed

much from the cultures is subsumed, it would be a mistake to think that the process of

reproduction took place uncritically. Rather, we need to understand the decoration of the

first Islamic monument in Islamic terms; and in that respect, it becomes important to

locate any antecedent cultural practices that may help explain the presence of royal

motifs in the Dome of the Rock.

To this end, a list of objects stored in the Ka’ba and compiled by al-Azraqi (d. 834)

proves invaluable. Among the objects al-Azarqi contends were stored in the Ka’ba are:

two golden ornamental crescents encrusted with jewels originally belonging to a

Sassanian king and donated by Umar; two golden crescents encrusted with rubies

originally belonging to a church in Damascus and donated by Mu’awiyah; a pair of

golden ornamental roundels donated by ‘Abd al-Malik; a golden throne and two crescent

shaped ornaments given by al-Walid II; a piece of emerald donated by Abu'l-'Abbas al-

Saffah; Harun al-Rashid sent a golden case containing the oaths of allegiance of his two

sons; and a golden necklace encrusted with jewels sent by the king of Sind upon his

conversion to Islam.94

The most interesting object kept in the Ka’ba for our purposes came from an

93 See, for instance, the Pola casket in St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome which features a crown, or the San Apollinaria in Ravenna which features crowns hanging over the heads of bishops – in both cases, crowns served to emphasize the sanctity of a holy space. 94 Mehmet Aga-Oglu “Remarks on the Character of Islamic Art,” The Art Bulletin Vol. 36 No. 3 (1954): 182.

54

unnamed king of Tibet. Upon the king’s conversion, he sent an idol of gold with a crown

of gold and jewels set on a baldachin throne of silver covered with a cloth with tassels in

the shape of sphere to the Ka’ba. The throne had an inscription emphasizing that it was

given “as a gift to the Ka’ba as a token of the king’s submission to Islam.”95 This last

object, along with the Sassanian crescents donated by Umar and the Damascene church

crescents given by Mu’awiyah, help us explain the prevalence of royal symbols in the

inner arcade of the Dome of the Rock: they present an uplifting value to the beholders as

they symbolized both the submission of unbelievers to Islam and the conquest of the

enemies of the new faith.

This theory is corroborated by Abu Bakr al-Wasiti’s Fadai’il al-Bat al-Muqaddasi,

the earliest known fadai’il literature composed for Jerusalem. In it, al-Wasiti states on

the authority of Thabet ibn Estinibiadh, a slave working in the Dome of the Rock,

“during the time of ‘Abd al-Malik, there was hanging on the chain above the Rock under

the Dome the Yatima pearl, the horns of Abraham’s ram, and the crown of Kisra

[Khosroe].”96 The veracity of al-Wasiti’s eleventh century claims is inconsequential;

what is important is the conclusion Rabbat draws from them: by including objects that

contemporaries thought to be authentic and therefore meaningful – namely, the crown of

Khosroe, a defeated Sassanian king, and the Yatima pearl, a jewel of some renown in the

early Muslim world – the Dome of the Rock “presented the material proof of Islam’s

ascendancy.”97

The answer, then, of what the mosaic decoration allows us to conclude can be

95 Grabar, “Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 51. 96 Rabbat “The Dome of the Rock Revisited: Some Remarks on al-Wasiti’s Accounts,” 71. 97 Ibid., 73.

55

surmised as follows: as with the architecture and inscriptions of the building, the

decorative themes present a dual message. It is possible that the use of crowns represents

a common artistic theme evident in Byzantine structures to emphasize the sanctity of a

monument; conversely, one can also interpret the incorporation of Byzantine and

Sassanian royal symbols as a means of demonstrating the ascendancy of the new faith

over their enemies. Thus, it would seem, the mosaics alone fail to resolve the issue of the

building’s significance. I have only the location of the structure left to discuss before I

will weave these four elements into a cohesive solution to our problem.

Location

The final original source I need to discuss is the location of the building. There

exists a paradox contained within the site of the monument: the incorporation of such an

anomalous spot, a massive rocky outcrop on the ancient hallowed Jewish Temple Mount

with a cave below, seems an unlikely place to construct a monument barring an already

established sacred meaning associated with the area; and yet, as we have seen, even in the

time of ‘Abd al-Malik, it is hard to determine a clear and unequivocal Islamic association

with the site. The location, then, presents us with a unique problem because of the

history of the site: in Grabar’s words, with the Dome of the Rock, “we are not dealing

with a new holy area, as in Madinah [sic], but with one of the most ancient sacred spots

on the earth.”98 And yet, despite the long established sacrality of the area in which the

Dome of the Rock now stands, as we shall see the location allows such a variety of

interpretations that gleaning information about the intention of the building proves

difficult.

98 Grabar, “Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 33.

56

The task of identifying early Muslim perceptions of the Rock is problematized by

the general dearth of sources pertaining to the Rock from its earliest times. That the

Haram al-Sharif was once the site of the Temple of Solomon is undeniable; however,

there is no definite Biblical mention of the Rock itself. Whether the Rock now venerated

by Muslim’s was indeed “the threshing-floor of Ornan the Jebusite,” (I Chronicles 3:1

and II Samuel 14:18), or an ancient Canaanite holy site incorporated into the Jewish

Temple, or the “middle of the court” (I Kings 8:63-64) which was hallowed by Solomon

during the consecration of the Temple is impossible to determine. Similarly, the place of

the Rock during the Herodian reconstruction is impossible to ascertain.

What is known, though, is that by the era of Muslim conquest, Mount Moriah in

general and the Rock specifically had become consecrated through their assumed

association with the Temple. The site of the former temple became the center of a

complex Jewish mythology that connected the Rock with a number of, often

contradictory, traditions. The Rock became the omphalos – or navel – of the earth, where

Adam was created and the axis connecting heaven and earth; as such it was the site of the

Messianic resurrection; it became the site of Abraham’s near sacrifice of Isaac99; and it

became the site upon which the Ark of the Covenant had once rested.100 That the area

had achieved mythical importance through its association with a host of Biblical

characters and narratives is evidenced by the statement of the Pilgrim of Bordeaux who,

in 333, mentions a lapis pertusus, or pierced stone, which Jews congregate around and

morn vigorously, anointing with oil the one physical remnant of the Temple.101

99 This through a confusion between the land of Moriah (Genesis 22:2), the site mentioned in the Bible as the place of Abraham’s near sacrifice, and Mount Moriah, the Biblical name for the Temple Mount. 100 Grabar, “Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 39. 101 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 28.

57

“There shall not be left one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down,”

(Mark 13:2); so reads the prophecy of the Gospels concerning the destruction of the

Jewish Temple. The ruined area of the Temple was as much a prophecy made manifest

as it was a sign of the victory of Christianity and the new revelatory text over the old one.

With the building of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the omphalos of the world was

transferred from Mount Moriah to Golgotha; along with it went the mythical associations

long developed between both Adam and Abraham with Jerusalem.102 At the time of the

Muslim conquest, then, the situation in Jerusalem can be surmised as follows: Jewish lore

connected a myriad of Biblical events, including Adam’s creation, Abraham’s sacrifice

and the eventual resurrection, with the Temple Mount while the site itself remained

purposefully in ruins, fulfilling a Christian prophecy.

Grabar maintains that the key to understanding the incredible Umayyad

monumental reverence for Jerusalem lay in the evolution in early Islamic perceptions of

the city in between the years of Umar’s conquest and Mu’awiyah ascension: “all these

[later] visible and often impressive architectural ‘events’ were triggered by whatever

happened during the twenty-five years between the appearance of Arab Muslims in

Jerusalem and the establishment in 661 of the Umayyad caliphate.”103 What follows,

then, is a brief chronology of the conquest of Jerusalem.

Muslim armies, led by Khalid ibn al –Walid, had, by 635, conquered much of

Syria; Jerusalem, however, refused to capitulate. That the eventual fall of Jerusalem to

the Muslims was an important event is equally well attested to by the fact that

102 Heribert Busse “Jerusalem and Mecca, the Temple and the Ka’ba. An Account of their Interrelation in Islamic Times” in The Holy Land in History and Thought: Papers Submitted to the International Conference in Relations Between the Holy Land and the World Outside It Ed. Moshe Sharon (Johannesburg: Brill Academic Publishing, 1986) 237. 103 Grabar, Shape of the Holy 45.

58

Sophronius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, demanded that Umar appear in person to accept

Jerusalem’s surrender and that Umar consented. The narrative of Umar’s visit to the city

was to have profound implications for the development of Islam in Jerusalem. “But,” as

Grabar points out, “his ‘tour’ of the Holy City was endowed by later writers with a series

of more or less legendary incidents; it is not very easy to ascertain what happened.”104

Nevertheless, there are certain details upon which all sources agree: Umar, intent on

seeing the holy sites of the city, was interested in the entire Haram al-Sharif area in

general, and not the Rock specifically. Tabari, in his narrative of Umar’s visit, mentions

the Rock but relates a story of how the caliph rejected the suggestion from Ka’b al-

Ahbar, a Jewish convert, to pray towards both Mecca and the Rock simultaneously.

Eutychius, narrating the same events, also mentions the Rock but similarly places little

emphasis on it; Al-Musharraf mentions the Night Journey of the prophet but not the Rock

specifically; lastly, Agapius of Manbij, a contemporary of Eutychius, fails to mention

either the Night Journey or the Rock, but does relate that Umar ordered the building of a

mosque on the site of Solomon’s Temple.105

While it is easy to see later understandings projected back unto the first years of

the Muslim era in Jerusalem, I propose that their existed four pietistic Islamic

associations with the Haram al-Sharif at the time of conquest, or soon thereafter: the first

qiblah, the mihrab Dawud (38:21-25) where David prayed for and received God’s

forgiveness, the Temple of Solomon, and a desire to fulfill Jewish and Christian

traditions as the heir to monotheism. That a marked shift in Islamic reverence for the

104 Grabar “Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem” 40 105Ibid., 40-41.

59

Rock occurred between the construction of Umar’s rudimentary mosque and ‘Abd al-

Malik’s Dome of the Rock is self-evident; the reason for this shift is harder to establish.

Three changes took place during the half-century separating the conquest from the

ascension of ‘Abd al-Malik. Each one, I argue, would have an effect on how the holy

sites of Islam in Jerusalem were to be defined. First, and most importantly, the Umayyad

empire was created and right from the beginning, it associated itself heavily with

Jerusalem. The city would play a pivotal role in two key moments in the career of

Mu’awiyah, the first Umayyad caliph: in 658, Mu’awiyah and Amr bin al-‘As, the

conqueror of Egypt, met in Jerusalem for a pact which effectively decided the caliphal

contest between Mu’awiyah and Ali in the former’s favour. Tabari relates how al-‘As

greeted Mu’awiyah as amir ard muqaddas – or Prince of the Holy Land, suggesting

Mu’awiyah’s strong association with the region.106 Then, in 660, allegiance was sworn to

Mu’awiyah as he assumed his caliphal role in Jerusalem.107 This trend was followed by

successive Umayyads who swore allegiance in Jerusalem; and yet, despite this obvious

sign of the importance of Jerusalem, the administrative function of the city was never

clear and Ramlah became the capital shortly after its founding, subjugating Jerusalem to

the rule of the governor residing there. Thus, while Jerusalem was largely insignificant in

the administration of Umayyad authority, Mu’awiyah set a precedent of using the city

where Muslims, Christians and Jews competed for religious space as a symbol of

authority – a precedent obvious in the building projects of ‘Abd al-Malik.

106 Grabar The Dome of the Rock 46. 107 Goitein, S.D.; Grabar, O. "al- Ḳuds." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. 06 April 2010 <http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=islam_COM-0535>

60

The second, less tangible, change was one in the composition of the city. Jews

had been largely barred from living in Jerusalem under the Byzantines. But with the

Muslim conquest, sources attest to a reappearance of a Jewish community in the city.

While the new Jewish community may not have played a significant role in the still

predominantly Christian city, Jewish converts to Islam undoubtedly occupied some

significant positions in the Muslim establishment. While it is impossible to discuss with

any certainty the impact these converts had on the evolution of early Islam and its

incorporation of Jewish traditions, the presence of at least one of them, K’ab al-Ahbar, at

Umar’s side during his first tour of the Haram al-Sharif is attested to by numerous

sources. It is thus foreseeable that over the following two generations, Muslim legends

about pre-Islamic figures – including narratives concerning Abraham and Solomon’s

Temple – accrued from the Jewish influence.

Lastly, Grabar discusses “momentous changes, which appear in the hadith

literature and separately in more popular pious practice,”108 during the half century in

between the conquest and the construction of the Dome of the Rock. This argument will

be expanded in the following chapter but for now it is important to note that there existed

a significant body of hadith literature that was eventually rejected by the canonized

corpus. These traditions include mujassimah, or the Islamic doctrine of a divine

corporeal existence and an anthropomorphic God. Classical Islam would later reject any

such suggestions but in the early years of Islamic development they undoubtedly found

their way into hadiths: one such tradition, related by Hisham bin Umar holds that ‘Abd

108 Grabar Shape of the Holy 113.

61

al-Malik promulgated the idea that “this is the rock of the Compassionate One on which

He had set his foot.”109

Therefore, in between the reigns of Umar and ‘Abd al-Malik, the organization,

composition and tradition of Islam underwent drastic changes in Jerusalem. So drastic, in

fact, as to explain the differences between the “small rudely built […] quadrangular place

of prayer”110 erected by Umar and ‘Abd al-Malik’s Dome of the Rock, “the first

conscious work of art of Islamic civilization.”111 To fully grasp nature of the changes,

though, necessitates a discussion of the rule of ‘Abd al-Malik; and it is to that topic that I

turn to in the final chapter.

109 Joseph Van Ess “Abd al-Malik and the Dome of the Rock” in Bayt al-Maqdis Volume 1 Ed. Julian Raby (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000) 95-99. 110 Goitein, S.D.; Grabar, O. "al- Ḳuds." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. 111 Grabar, O. "Ḳubbat al- Ṣak ̲h ̲ra." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. 06 April 2010 <http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=islam_COM-0533>

62

‘Abd al-Malik, once rebel, then restorer of Umayyad power and

father of four caliphs to follow, ruled at the center of this empire, God’s agent and architect of the first Islamic state.

Chase Robinson112

Chapter Four

‘Abd al-Malik: Caliph, Statesman, Patron

The entirety of my thesis thus far has been dedicated to one question: why did

‘Abd al-Malik build the Dome of the Rock? In the pursuit of an answer though, I have

failed to consider an even more basic one: when did ‘Abd al-Malik build the Dome of the

Rock? The questions of when and why the Dome was built are interrelated and

answering the former will provide some insight into the latter.

To do so requires a radical re-imagining of the early Islamic period. Conventional

histories hold that ‘Abd al-Malik ascended to the caliphate following the brief rule of his

112Robinson ‘Abd al-Malik 9.

63

father Marwan in 685; confronted with the rebellion of Ibn Zubayr, his caliphal authority

remained tenuous until 692 when he defeated Ibn Zubayr and consolidated his power.

My arguments in this chapter, though, challenge this accepted history. I will paint an

image of ‘Abd al-Malik’s rule as an anti-caliphate born in rebellion, established through

warfare and maintained through the creation of an highly developed Islamic state. In my

image, then, ‘Abd al-Malik is responsible for transitioning the “nascent Islamic state”

into an “hegemonic polity” equipped to rule an empire.113 He reorganized the military,

reformed the tax system, minted his own coins and had an active hand in the religious

debates of the day; in short, his rule “saw innovations in the office of the caliphate […]

which not only transformed a conquest polity into an empire, but also introduced and

disseminated the idea of the ‘Islamic state’ itself.”114 Following Robinson, what I am

proposing, then, is no less than a redefinition of ‘Abd al-Malik. The reforms he instituted

– of which, the artisanal, iconographic and religious experimentation that led to the

construction of the Dome of the Rock was but one – helped direct the course of early

Islam which, at this point in its history, was still tremendously fluid.

Jeremy Johns, writing on the state of early Islamic historiography, notes that “all

of the earliest declarations of Islam are found on coins, documents and monumental

inscriptions produced under ‘Abd al-Malik and his successors. After 72/691-2, such

media become increasingly common; before, they are extremely rare.”115 Earlier

archeological remains of Islam have been unearthed, to be sure, including papyri and

tombstones bearing characteristically Islamic phrases (i.e. bism Allah al-rahman al-

113 Jeremy Johns “Archeology and the History of Early Islam: The First Seventy Years” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 46 (2003) 418. 114 Robinson ‘Abd al-Malik 8. 115 Johns, “The First Seventy Years” 416.

64

rahim, In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate found on a building

inscription dateable to the mid-seventh century). However, none of these early Islamic

writings mention Muhammad or Islam; for example, the earliest Muslim tombstone thus

far uncovered, dated 651-2 and found in Egypt, fails to mention the prophet – “an

omission that almost never occurs after 691-2.”116 The first proclamation of Islam in a

recognizable form is, in fact, the Dome of the Rock; its construction marks a divide

within Islam wherein religious declarations become commonplace, rarely thereafter

omitting Muhammad’s name.

The problem of how to account for a general dearth of Islamic material in the

archeological record before ‘Abd al-Malik is a pertinent one. The solution, I suggest, is

that it was only in 691-2 under ‘Abd al-Malik that a state capable of creating and

disseminating material culture as a medium for its own rhetoric and culture of authority

emerged. I will turn shortly to the emergence of material culture – the Dome of the Rock

included – but I must first outline the state of the Islamic polity under Mu’awiyah until

the ascension of ‘Abd al-Malik.

Mu’awiyah’s reign was, by every reasonable standard, a success: his near twenty-

year rule was marked by relative peace and prosperity. He is the first Muslim ruler

whose name appears on coins, documents, and monumental inscriptions.117 Robinson

writes of Mu’awiyah:

The secret of his success seems to have been his laissez-faire patrimonialism rather than robust state building: he may have thrown up a palace or two and he may have dabbled a bit in striking some coins. But instead of forging powerful instruments of rule (such as a salaried army and robust tax administration) he

116 Ibid. 117 Michael L. Bates “History, Geography and Numismatics in the First Century of Islamic Coinage” Reveu Suisse de Numismatic 65 (1986) 231.

65

relied upon his own wits, the counsel and pull of tribal chides and the remnants of Byzantine and Sassanian fiscal systems.118

His death, then, in 680, led to the near collapse of his polity: the civil war was a direct

result of the political instability caused by the vacuum created by Mu’awiyah’s death

coupled with the successive weak and ineffective rule of his two successors, Yazid in 683

followed quickly by Mu’awiyah II in early 684. But strong polities manage to navigate

issues of succession while weak ones are often crippled by them; it is important, then, to

note that the problems the Umayyads faced in the early 680s had as much to do with their

weak mechanisms of rule – relying as they did on preexisting tribal relationships – as

they did with the death of Mu’awiyah.

By 684 the second civil war was in full swing with, as one eighth century bishop

phrased it, “the Arabs were in turmoil […] each country chose someone [to lead].”119 It

is unnecessary to go into all of the details, many of which are still contested, but by late

June or early July of 684 Marwan had been acclaimed caliph in Jabiya, located about 80

kilometers south of Damascus. Simultaneously, though, Ibn al-Zubayr claimed the office

of the caliphate for himself from his position in the Hijaz controlling both Mecca and

Madina. Of Marwan’s accession, Robinson writes, “it is unreasonable to assume that

many outside of Syria acknowledged Marwan’s claim to the caliphate.”120 Marwan set

about immediately consolidating his power base in Syria and conquered Egypt which had

briefly been a part of Ibn a-Zubayr’s caliphate. He died soon thereafter in April 685 and

was succeeded by ‘Abd al-Malik.

118 Robinson, ‘Abd al-Malik 24. 119 Robert Hoyland Seeing Islam as Others Saw It: A Survey and Evaluation of Christian, Jewish and Zoroastrian Writings on Early Islam (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1997) 647. 120 Robinson, ‘Abd al-Malik 26.

66

Such was the position of the Umayyads then when ‘Abd al-Malik became caliph:

they had a relatively weak hold on Egypt, the Levant and Syria while Ibn al-Zubayr had

been name caliph in the Hijaz with his brother Mus’ab Ibn al-Zubayr ruling Iraq and

much of Iran and Afghanistan. A brief look at the credentials of al-Zubayr will prove

helpful. Al-Zubayr was unique amongst claimants to the caliphate for the strong case he

could make. He could claim a remarkably pious familial line: he was born in 624, eight

years before the death of Muhammad and was thus a companion of the prophet; he was

the first child born to the Emigrants who fled with Muhammad to Medina; his father, al-

Zubayr, was a close companion of Muhammad and his mother, Asma’, was Abu Bakr’s

daughter and a sister of A’isha. Furthermore, he could claim a long line of pious action,

having fought in the battle at Yarmuk against the Byzantines in 636 and participated in a

rebellion alongside A’isha against ‘Uthman. Combining pious belief and actions, al-

Zubayr was thus a perfect model for the caliphate.

When Yazid died in 683 he claimed the office of the caliphate for himself and

began immediately to conduct himself as earlier caliphs had done: he styled himself as

the ‘commander of the believers’, he collected taxes and raised armies and appointed

governors and administrators. He controlled the two holiest sanctuaries of the faith and,

as a companion of the prophet, represented a tangible link to the time of Muhammad.

While the Umayyads had instituted dynastic rule and moved the capital out of the

traditional homes of power, Ibn al-Zubayr was seen as a conservative who could return

Islam to its glorious past. The numismatic evidence of the period, while modest, is

revealing. Between 683 and 692 the coinage of the area is dominated by Zubayrid issue;

67

Umayyad examples are tremendously rare121; “if one knew only the contemporaneous

coins and none of the later histories, one would conclude that Ibn al-Zubayr was the ruler

and ‘Abd al-Malik the rebel.”122

The beginning phases of ‘Abd al-Malik’s rule, then, must be seen as a rebellion

against the widely accepted caliphate of Ibn al-Zubayr. ‘Abd al-Malik’s rebellion

continued from where his father’s had left off. In 689 he left Syria, his power base, to

campaign against the Zubayrids in Iraq. Syria, however, was unstable still and with ‘Abd

al-Malik gone ‘Amr bin Sa’id initiated a rebellion of his own. That his position was so

weak, even in 689 four years after having assumed authority, is furthered by the truce he

was forced to sign with Justinian II to secure parts of northern Syria; the details of the

treaty are unclear but from the perspective of the decades of glorious conquests, the treaty

represented an embarrassing reversal.123

‘Abd al-Malik’s fortunes began to change in the closing months of 689 and by

690 he had made headway into northern Iraq. The defeat of Mus’ab bin al-Zubayr in late

691 was followed by his final assault and eventual defeat of Ibn al-Zubayr in Mecca. It is

only with his defeat of Ibn al-Zubayr and his control of Mecca that his caliphate would

have been seen as legitimate outside of Syria; As Ibn Hajar, a fifteenth-century historian

wrote, Ibn al-Zubayr “was the first to be born a Muslim in Medina from amongst the

Emigrants. He assumed the caliphate for nine year until he was killed in Dhu al-Hijja of

the year 72.”124 ‘Abd al-Malik’s caliphate thus began not in 685 with his oath of

121 Jeremy Johns “The First Seventy Years” 426. 122 Robinson, ‘Abd al-Malik 36. 123 Holyand, Seeing Islam as Others Saw It 647. 124 Robinson ‘Abd al-Malik 34.

68

allegiance but in 692 with his defeat of Ibn al-Zubayr; this year also marks the beginnings

of a proliferation in Islamic material culture – this, I argue, is not a coincidence.

Clive Foss, based on his reading of the numismatic evidence, has recently argued

that Mu’awiyah governed a highly organized and bureaucratic empire with a

sophisticated system of taxation. While Muslims may have indeed minted coins in Syria

under Mu’awiyah, this does not translate into a coherent and organized bureaucratic

system. Rather, evidence from the papyri from Nessana in the Naqab (Palestine) attests

to the opposite: the continuity of pre-conquest administrative institutions under

Mu’awiyah attests to the non-interventionist – and thus also non-imperial – design of

Mu’awiyah’s rule. To prove this, John’s cites one specific example: taxation records

during the years of 674-677 indicate that the Arab governor of Gaza collected rizq, or a

food allowance, from the villagers of Nessana instead of money. The rizq contained

wheat and oil but the amounts stipulated varied widely depending on the need of the time.

“This,” John’s concludes, “is clear evidence that there were not regular taxes collected as

part of a uniform and centralized fiscal system but ‘irregular requisitions demanded as

needed.’”125 Furthermore, these taxes went to the soldiers and administrators in Gaza as

opposed to the central administration in Damascus.

This changed under ‘Abd al-Malik. Evidence exists for the first years of ‘Abd al-

Malik’s rule for his numerous reforms. A Greek text records the names of Arab soldiers

with their duties and salaries and the names of those authorizing their payment –

including ‘Abd al-Malik and his brother ‘Abd al-Aziz, the governor of Egypt. ‘Abd al-

Malik also reorganized the administrative structure of the military province system – jund

125 Johns, “The First Seventy Years” 421.

69

– and brought each province under more centralized control, demanding taxes be paid to

Damascus. A poll-tax and land-tax was instituted and a census was conducted to

calculate the amount owed; the era witnessed increased coercion in tax collection and

increased efficiency; and, lastly, the Arabization of previously Greek fiscal documents in

concert with the transfer of administrative authority from Christian and Zoroastrian

figures to Muslim ones. All of this leads to the conclusion that: “a centralized

administrative and fiscal apparatus is absent under Mu’awiyah and is first introduced

under ‘Abd al-Malik and his successors. A contrast between the two reigns is also drawn

by non-Muslim authors, who howl in protest at the administrative and fiscal reforms

instituted by ‘Abd al-Malik.”126 Whereas Mu’awiyah and those before him were content

to conquer and delegate, imposing only a tribute tax, ‘Abd al-Malik established the

enduring template of imperial rule with the cornerstone of a centralized bureaucracy.

His economic reforms allowed him to professionalize the army. Whereas his

predecessors had relied heavily on local chieftains, ‘Abd al-Malik and his successors

replaced them with commanders, and tribesmen with soldiers. The diwan was expanded

and soldiers were afforded an annual pay. This went a long way to ensuring the loyalty

of the army and, in turn, the empires ability to expand: in 695 ‘Abd al-Malik began a four

year long campaign on the Byzantine frontier and by 700, he imposed a measure of

Islamic rule on previously Byzantine Armenia.127

That ‘Abd al-Malik was engaged in transformation of his method of rule is further

substantiated by two types of material evidence: milestones and coinage. In 1902 a slab

of limestone was discovered in Abu Ghosh, a town just west of Jerusalem; it read:

126 Ibid., 422. 127 Robinson, ‘Abd al-Malik 69.

70

In the name of God, the merciful and compassionate. There is no god but God alone. He has no companion. Muhammad is the messenger of God, may God bless him and give him peace. ‘Abd al-Malik, the Commander of the Believers and servant of God, has ordered the repair of the road and the construction of the milestones, may God’s mercy be upon him. From Iliya [Jerusalem] to [this milestone there are] seven miles.128

About forty years later, a second stone was found of the southern shore of the Sea of

Galilee; it bore a very similar language to the first found, beginning with the bismala and

crediting ‘Abd al-Malik with the construction. Seven years later two more stones were

found in the Golan; one read:

In the name of God, the merciful and compassionate. There is no god but God alone. He has no partner. [Muhammad is the messenger of God. [‘Abd] al-Malik, the Commander of the Believers, has ordered the manufacture of these [milestones]. The work was carried out by Musawir, the client of the Commander of [the Believers] in [the month] of Sha’ban in the year five and eighty. [From Damascus to] this [stone] two [and fifty miles.]129

These stones are evidence of ‘Abd al-Malik’s public profession of authority. While the

milestones undoubtedly served a primary function of improving trade and

communications by connecting Palestine with Syria, it is their secondary function that

concerns me: they served as signs upon which ‘Abd al-Malik publicized his claims to

legitimacy and dynastic ideology. Despite slight differences in phrases, the signs contain

a formulaic language that was assembled to convey a specific, if not immediately

discernible, meaning: they begin with the bismala, followed by some version of the

monotheist creed and an assertion of Muhammad’s role before naming the patron, in this

case ‘Abd al-Malik. This easily recognizable pattern of establishing a hierarchy of divine

128 Ibid., 114. 129 Ibid., 115.

71

authority enacted by worldly authority was used by ‘Abd al-Malik as language of

persuasion.

In terms of numismatics130, the evidence corroborates that ‘Abd al-Malik was

engaged in the process of defining the language and iconography of his empire and

religion. While we are forced to concede that minting may have begun under

Mu’awiyah, it is not until ‘Abd al-Malik that there is any production of coinage on a

large scale to speak of, with coins in gold, silver and bronze being issued from a wide

range of mints in Syria. ‘Abd al-Malik oversaw three distinct phases in the iconography

of his coinage, and I will deal with each one in turn. The first phase, beginning in 692, is

marked by coins imitating earlier Byzantine and Sassanian models.131 The first dinars,

which I will refer to as ‘imitative dinars’ feature three standing figures on the obverse

side of the coin, mirroring a contemporaneous issue by Heraclius. The Christian

iconography – specifically, Byzantine imperial dress, crosses, crowns and orbs – have

been replaced with Arab garb and the figures are depicted as holding staffs. On the

reverse, what was once a cross elevated on steps has been transformed into a vertical bar.

Encircling the bar is the profession of faith: “In the name of God, there is no God but

God alone, Muhammad is the messenger of God.”

693-4 marked the emergence of the ‘adaptive dinar’ and the beginning the of the

second phase of Umayyad minting.132 The obverse of the ‘adaptive dinar’ shows an

image of the caliph, markedly different from the slightly altered Byzantine picture

preceding it. The coin, also referred to as the Standing Caliph dinar, features the caliph

130 This section, dealing with the classification and evolution of early Islamic minting, is closely based on Michael Bates “History, Geography and Numismatics in the First Century of Islamic Coinage” 131 See Appendix, Figure 5 132 See Appendix, Figure 6

72

in Arab headdress and robe holding a sword sheathed in a scabbard. The Byzantine

crown has become a kufiyya; the orb has become a whip; and the cross has become a

sword. The profession of faith has been moved from its position on the reverse to the

boundary of the obverse around the image of the caliph. The reverse side maintains the

iconography of the previous type, with the vertical bar on steps, but includes the date (74-

77/693-697). It is important to note that on some of the copper coins issued, more

variation in the inscription is evident; some even containing the caliph’s name and titles:

“for the servant of God, ‘Abd al-Malik, commander of the believers.”133

The third and final phase marks a dramatic end to the visual and iconographic

experimentation in Islamic coinage. Beginning in gold in 77/696-7 and in silver in

79/698-9, ‘Abd al-Malik issued a revolutionary type of coin.134 Ichnographically it

represents an Islamic rejection of all Byzantine and Sassanian pictorial symbols;

presupposing future Islamic iconoclasm, the coins incline towards verbal iconography as

opposed to mere Islamic adaptations of foreign motifs. All figural representations were

thus removed. The profession of faith was expanded so that the first half – ‘there is no

god but God alone’ – fills the face of the coin with the second half included in the margin

followed by a declaration of Muhammad’s prophetic mission (Quran 9:33). The reverse

of the coin features a statement of God’s Unitarian nature and a denial of the trinity,

taken from sura 112 of the Quran. This epigraphic type foreruns future numismatic

developments and remained standard on Islamic coinage well into the Abbasid period.

The coins, then, tell us that ‘Abd al-Malik was engaged in an ongoing program of pious

Islamic representation development. As Robinson writes of the era, “how can one say

133 Blair, “What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock?” 66. 134 See Appendix, Figure 7

73

what is orthodox or pious when the rules of orthodoxy and piety had not yet been

written.?”135

The last consideration that we must discuss before the date of the Dome of the

Rock is examined pertains to the state of the Quran and hadith traditions during the time

of ‘Abd al-Malik. We have already seen that the process of assembling and collating the

Quran and hadith was a protracted one and that, at the least, the Quran was still fluid and

the hadith still being cultivated at the time of ‘Abd al-Malik. What remains, then, is to

discuss the influence, if any, ‘Abd al-Malik had on their evolution. Robinson cites a late

ninth-century Christina text which claims that ‘Abd al-Malik had his deputy al-Hajjaj

undertake a revision of the text; the text goes on to claim that al-Hasan al-Basri, a well

known theologian, rebuked the caliph for his impropriety. The Christian account is no

more or less credible than the Muslim ones crediting Uthman. However, as we have

seen, ‘Abd al-Malik possessed both the ability to disseminate and impose a redacted text

across a vast well connected empire as well as the motive to do so insofar as his imperial

program was largely dependent on the publicization of a distinctly Islamic idiom of

authority and control.

Our evidence concerning hadith during this time pertains more to the state of

hadith as a whole then it does to ‘Abd al-Malik’s influence over it. A multitude of what

would later become heterodox traditions had general public appeal at this time; that they

influenced ‘Abd al-Malik specifically is impossible to prove, but the point remains worth

making that what would later became anachronistic within Islam was still open to debate.

To prove this point we need look at but one example: that of the anthropomorphism of

135 Robinson, ‘Abd al-Malik 98.

74

God. God’s throne is mentioned twenty-two times in the Quran, such as the Throne

Verse of sura al-Baqara: “His throne doth extend over the heavens and the earth,”

[2:255]. The modern interpretation of such terminology accords with the Islamic belief

that God is omnipresent and without form; it holds that the purpose of providing God

with human characteristics is to translate the divine into language man can understand.

However, there is no reason to believe that such was the judgment of the early Muslim

community: “the notion of an anthropomorphic concept of God sitting on a throne is

thought to have existed amongst many Muslims of the time of ‘Abd al-Malik of which he

was likely to have been one.”136 However, no anthropomorphic hadiths – apart from

those concerned with the mi’raj of Muhammad – have been canonized. One verse in

particular within the Quran has been cited as proof for the incorporeal nature of God: “He

is Allah, the one and only; Allah, the eternal, absolute; He begetteth not, nor is He

begotten; and there is non like unto Him,” [112:1-4]. It is interesting to note that ‘Abd al-

Malik included the this verse in the Dome of the Rock on the east and north door plaques;

what is also worth noting is his inclusion of the following, non-Qu’ranic inscription

found towards the end on the east door: “We ask you our God, by Your mercy, by Your

beautiful names, by Your noble face, by Your immense power […].”137 We are unable to

say for certain, then, what ‘Abd al-Malik believed personally; what is clear, though, is

that he was engaged in an ongoing dialogue defining the language of Islam.

In chapter three I dealt extensively with the inscriptions of the Dome of the Rock

and their implications for the meaning of the building. What concerned me most in that

discussion was the inscriptional message concerning Jesus. However, in the context of 136 M. Anwarul Islam and Zaid F. Al-Hamad “The Dome of the Rock: The Origin of its Octagonal Plan” 123. 137 Grabar The Shape of the Holy 61.

75

Umayyad state building, the inscription on the outer façade and the persona of

Muhammad is of greater interest. The invocation on the northeast side is particularly

important: “Muhammad is the envoy of God, may God bless him and grant his

intercession on the day of resurrection for his community.”138 This idea, of Muhammad

as an intermediary between man and God, is markedly not Qu’ranic for “nowhere in the

Quran does Muhammad appear as an intercessor.”139 Johns goes on to note that after this

appearance on the Dome of the Rock, Muhammad is not mentioned in the role of

intercessor for over a century. This venture, like his iconographic coinage, is an

experiment that failed.

The last topic we have to discuss is the date of the Dome of the Rock. The

foundation inscription, discussed in chapter two, credits al-Ma’mun with the construction

of the Dome and lists the date as 72/691-2. I have already proven that al-Ma’mun’s

actions represent a prise de possession and that ‘Abd al-Malik was the true patron; what

remains to be discussed is the date.140 That most authors have accepted this date as the

terminus ad quem, or completion date, of the project can be shown by citing Creswell:

“the date given by the inscription obviously refers, as is usually in Arabic epigraphy, to

the completion of the work.”141 Such a conception, Sheila Blair points out, would

contradict the historical model as the previous years were filled with strife and thus “not

conducive to financing major construction.”142

138 Ibid., 59. 139 Johns, “The First Seventy Years” 429. 140 My discussion of the date of the Dome of the rock relies heavily on Sheila Blair, “What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock?” in Bayt al-Maqdis: Abd al-Malik’s Jerusalem, Part One Ed. J. Raby and J. Johns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 59-85. 141 Creswell, Early Muslim Architecture, Umayyads: A.D. 622-750 72. 142 Blair “The Date of the Dome of the Rock” 62.

76

Blair goes on to point out that many later monumental inscriptions provide a date

of commencement, such as those of Saljuq Anatolia and early Islamic Iran. While it is

impossible based on the mosaic composition to determine the date of construction, Blair

resolves to resort to secondary sources. None of the early chroniclers – such as Ya’qubi,

Mas’udi, Baladhuri or Muqaddasi – mention the date of commencement and the only

early source that does, Eutychius, provides 65/684-5, confusing it with ‘Abd al-Malik’s

accession. The earliest Muslim source that dates the buildings commencement is Sibt ibn

al-Jawzi (d. 1256); he claims that the building was begun in 69 and completed in 72, but

he goes on to assert that Sa’id, Abd al-Malik’s son, built it and we can thus safely assume

that his is a mistaken narrative.

In support of her theory dating the Dome of the Rock’s completion to 695, Blair

cites the evidence already discussed above concerning tax reforms, numismatic changes

and milestone construction. She writes, “in view of epigraphic, textual, numismatic, and

artisanal history, then, we should reread the date of 72/692 in the Dome of the Rock’s

foundation inscription as a terminus a quo. The building then belongs to ‘Abd al-Malik’s

general build-up of Syria following his return from Iraq.”143 If, as I have argued above,

692 marks the true beginning to the caliphate of ‘Abd al-Malik, then we must see the

Dome of the Rock as a monument built for the dawn of his reign – a reign that witnessed

the birth of the Islamic state.

143 Ibid., 69.

77

Just as certain limbs of the body are purer than others, so are certain places on earth more sacred – some on account of their

situation, others because of their sparkling waters, and others because of their association or habitation of saintly people.

The Mahabharata144

Above all else, sacred place is “storied place” … Without

exception, the sacred place is the place rich in history.

Belden C. Lane, 1988145

The history of holy places consists of a constant, friendly or antagonistic, dialogue between popular practice and the formal

acceptance or rejection of that practice by the religious establishment.

Oleg Grabar146

Conclusion

Once Holy; Always Holy

My thesis sets out to understand the significance behind the Dome of the Rock.

On my path towards that understanding I have come to realize that the meanings imbued

in the building are as diverse as the visitors awed by it. Positivist historians have located

in the building an act of extreme Islamic impropriety and political expediency; religious

144 The Mahabharata, Anusasan Parvan Chapter 108 verses 16-18, as translated in J.H. Dave, Immortal India vol. 1 (Bombay: Bharatiya Viyda Bhavan, 1959), xiv. 145 Belden C. Lane, Landscapes of the Sacred: Geography and Narrative in American Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1988) 11. 146 Grabar The Shape of the Holy 113.

78

Muslims see the building as a pious commemoration of a Qu’ranic event; that neither of

these traditionally posited causes were the actual impetus behind the construction does

not lessen their importance. Rather, that they have both survived to this day speaks to the

constant and evolving dialogue between built forms and those who perceive them.

I have tried to use the building to tell its own story. And in some senses, I have

succeeded. By deconstructing the architecture, I have surmised that the building fits into

the koine of Late Antique reliquaries, that it conveys a sacrality without specifying its

nature and that it provides a potent and forceful message. By analyzing the inscriptions, I

have ascertained the missionary and ecumenical nature of the building for Christians and

the symbol of ascendancy for Muslims. By investigating the mosaics, I have deduced

that the building was decorated to allude simultaneously to the Solomonic Temple and

the superiority of Islam over its enemies. And, lastly, by understanding the historical and

mythical importance of the location upon which it is built, I have concluded that the

Dome of the Rock necessarily presents an appropriation of an ancient holy site as a

political declaration.

But perhaps the most important lesson gleaned concerns the nature of the sacred

in general and the period of ‘Abd al-Malik specifically. When David and the Israelites

conquered Jerusalem, the city had a long established history of sacrality. This history

was partly appropriated by Solomon when he chose Araunah’s threshing floor as the site

of his temple; the sacred Rock over which ‘Abd al-Malik constructed the first Islamic

artistic endeavor was no doubt a holy site for the Jebusite’s before it was incorporated

into Jewish, Christian and Muslim mythology.

79

That the same tenor of experimentation was evident in Solomon’s era as ‘Abd al-

Malik’s is obvious when one considers the changes in their respective communities.

George Aaron Barton, writing on the nature of Israelite religion in the pre-prophetic era,

asserts that the customs of the invading Israelites inevitably fused with the pre-existing

cultic traditions of the Jebusites and Canaanites, creating a hybrid in which a clear

syncretic thread can be traced from modern day Judaism back to the cults of El Elyon,

Salim and Jebus.147 The same amalgamative tendencies are evident in the Islam of ‘Abd

al-Malik’s era. As I discussed in the preceding chapter, he oversaw changes in

iconography, numismatics, modes of power and social organization and, most

importantly, Islamic piety.

I wrote in my introduction that a study of the Dome of the Rock pertains to the

fields of art and architecture, political and social history as well as the development of

Islamic exegesis. To this I would like to add one more implication: the Dome of the

Rock, as the built embodiment of its age of experimentation, represents the fluidity of

early Islam that allowed ‘Abd al-Malik to create the first Islamic state.

147 George Aaron Barton, “The Evolution of the Religion of Israel: II. The Pre-Prophetic Period in Canaan.” The Biblical World 39 (1912): 88-91.

80

Appendix

Figure 1 Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, circa 1860. The Haram is clearly visible in the center with the Dome of the Rock to the right of center. Barring the Al-Aqsa mosque, the rest of the city bears no visible topographic or monumental

features. Source: O. Grabar, Shape of the Holy, 4.

Figure 2 Louis-Francois Cassas, Vue de Jerusalem, circa 1800. Source: O. Grabar, Shape of the Holy, 5.

81

Figure 3 Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin, 1504. Source: WikiCommons.

Figure 4 Dome of the Rock: plan, section and elevation. Source: O. Grabar, Shape of the Holy, 55.

82

Figure 5 Phase One, 'Imitative Dinar' with three figures; circa 692. Source: S. Blair, "What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock?" 64.

Figure 6 Phase Two, 'Adaptive Dinar' with standing caliph; circa 694-5. Source: S.

Blair, "What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock?" 65.

Figure 7 Phase Three, 'Epigraphic Dinar'; circa 696-697. Source: S. Blair, "What is the Date of the Umayyad Dome of the Rock?" 66.

83

Bibliography Aga-Ogly, Mehmet. “Remarks on the Character of Islamic Art.” The Art Bulletin. 36 (1954): 175-202. Arnold, Dana. Reading Architectural History. London: Routledge, 2002. Asbridge, Thomas. The First Crusade: A New History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Barton, George Aaron. “The Evolution of the Religion of Israel: II. The Pre-Prophetic Period in Canaan.” The Biblical World 39 (1912): 88-98. Bates, M.L. “History, Geography and Numismatics in the First Century of Islamic Coinage.” Revue Suisse de Numismatique 65 (1986): 231-262. Berchem, Margeurite Van and Ory, S. Muslim Jerusalem in the Work of Max Van Berchem. Geneva: Max Van Berchem Foundation, 1982. Blair, Sheila. “What is the Date of the Dome of the Rock?” in Bayt al-Maqdis: Volume 1 ed. Julian Raby and Jeremy Johns, 59-85. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992. Busse, Heribert. “Jerusalem in the Story of Muhammad’s Night Journey and Ascension.” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 14 (1991): 1-40. _________. “Jerusalem and Mecca, the Temple and the Kaaba. An Account of their Interrelation in Islamic Times.” In The Holy Land in History and Thought: Papers Submitted to the International Conference in Relations Between the Holy Land and the World Outside It. Ed. Moshe Sharon, 236-245. Johannesburg: Brill Academic, 1986. __________. "Mud ̲j̲īr al- Dīn al- ʿUlaymī." Encyclopedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. Creswell, C.A.K. Early Muslim Architecture, Umayyads A.D. 622-750 Second Edition Volume One Part One. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969. Crone, Patricia and Cook, Michael. Hagarism: the Making of the Islamic World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977. Donner, Fred. Narratives of Islamic Origins: The Beginnings of Islamic Historical Writing. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988. Elad, Amikam. “Why Did ‘Abd al-Malik Build the Dome of the Rock? A Re-examination of the Muslim Sources.” In Bayt al-Maqdis: Volume 1 ed. Julian Raby and Jeremy Johns, 33-52. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992. Ettinghausen, Richard, Oleg Grabar and Marilyn Jenkins-Madina. “Islamic Art and Architecture: 650-1250. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003. Ess, Joseph Van. “’Abd al-Malik and the Dome of the Rock Analysis of Some Texts.” Bayt al-Maqdis: Volume 1 ed. Julian Raby and Jeremy Johns, 89-103. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992. Fernie, Eric. “History and Architectural History.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 13 (2003): 199-206.

84

Goetein, Shelomo-Dov. “The Historical Background of the Erection of the Dome of the Rock.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 70 (1950): 104-108. _______________; Grabar, O. "al- Ḳuds." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. Grabar, Oleg. “The Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem.” Ars Orientalis 3 (1959): 33-62. ____________. The Shape of the Holy: Early Islamic Jerusalem. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996. ____________. The Dome of the Rock. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006. ____________. "Ḳubbat al- Ṣak̲h̲ra." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. Guillaume, Alfred. “Where Was al-Masjid al-Aqsa?” Al-Andalus 18 (1953): 323-336. Hirschberg, H.Z. “The Sources of Moslem Traditions Concerning Jerusalem.” Rocznik Orientalistyczny 17 (1952): 314-350. Hoyland, Robert. Seeing Islam as Others Saw It: A Survey and Evaluation of Christian, Jewish and Zoroastrian Writings on Early Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997. Humphreys, Stephen. Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry, Revised Edition. London: I.B. Tauris, 1991. Islam, M. Anwarul and Al Hamad Zaid F. “The Dome of the Rock: Origin of its Octagonal Plan.” Palestine Exploration Quarterly 139 (2007): 109-128. Johns, Jeremy. “Archeology and the History of Early Islam: The First Seventy Years.” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 46 (2003): 411:433. Jones, Lindsay. The Hermeneutics of Sacred Architecture: Experience, Interpretation, Comparison. Volume Two: Hermeneutical Calisthenics: A Morphology of Ritual Architectural Priorities. Camridge: Harvard University Press, 2000. Kessler, Christel. “Above the Ceiling of the Outer Ambulatory in the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1964): 83-94. _______________. “Abd al-Malik’s Inscription in the Dome of the Rock: A Recondsideration.” Journals of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland (1970): 2-14. Kister, M.J. “You Shall Only Set Out for Three Mosques: A Study of an Early Tradition.” Le Museon 82 (1969): 173-196. Krey, August Charles.” The First Crusade: Accounts of Eye Witnesses and Participants. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1921. Lewy, Julius. “The Sulman Temple in Jerusalem.” Journal of Biblical Literature 59 (1940): 519-522.

85

Paton, L.B. “Jerusalem in Bible Times: VI. Jerusalem in the Earliest Times.” The Biblical World 29 (1907): 409-419. __________. “Jerusalem in Bible Times: IV. The City of David.” The Biblical World 29 (1907): 247-259. Peters, F.E. A Reader on Classical Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994. Rabbat, Nasser. “The Dome of the Rock Revisited: Some Remarks on al-Wasiti’s Accounts.” Muqarnas 10 (1993): 67-75. _____________. “The Meaning of the Umayyad Dome of the Rock.” Muqarnas 6 (1989): 12-21. Robinson, Chase. ‘Abd al-Malik. London: One World Publications, 2005. ________________. Islamic Historiography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Robson, J. "Ḥadīth." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Rubin, Uri. “Muhammad’s Night Journey (Isra’) to Al-Masjid Al-Aqsa. Aspects of the Earliest Origins of the Islamic Sanctity of Jerusalem.” Al Qantara 29 (2008): 147-164. Runciman, Steven. A History of the Crusades. Volume 1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953. Sharon, Moshe. “The Birth of islam in the Holy Land” in The Holy Land in History and Thought: Papers Submitted to the International Conference in Relations Between the Holy Land and the World Outside It. Ed. Moshe Sharon, 225-233. Johannesburg: Brill Academic, 1986. Schrieke, B.; Bencheikh, J.E.; Knappert, J.; Knappert, J.; Robinson, B.W. "Miʿrād ̲j ̲." Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition. Edited by: P. Bearman , Th. Bianquis , C.E. Bosworth , E. van Donzel and W.P. Heinrichs. Brill, 2010. Brill Online. Dalhousie University. Soucek, Priscilla. ‘The Temple of Solomon in Islamic Legend and Art.” In The Temple of Solomon ed. J. Gutmann. Michigan: Scholars Press, 72-111. Whelan, Estelle. “Writing the Word of God: Some Early Qu’ran Manuscripts and their Milieux.” Ars Orientalis 20 (1990): 113-147.