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Many studies on ancient cults focus on individual sites, deities or cult places, but they often ignore the wider environment. Why did people choose a particular geographical location? What makes a geographical feature ‘sacred’ and how was this sacred space demarcated from the profane? The sacred landscape is not simply what we see, but a way of seeing: we see it with our eyes but interpret it with our mind. Landscape is therefore a cultural construct which gives meaning to places and reflect human memory.
Religious signs, rituals, aetiological myths, theonyms and epithets, as well as human constructions (e.g. architecture) together create a web of ciphers and symbols that make up the sacred landscape of a region, creating a text or narrative of a sacred landscape invested with meaning.
Here we also need to consider how the landscape might have been manipulated: this is most notable when contrasting the sacred rivers, springs and hills in the Iron Age with the subsequent monumentalisation beyond recognition of the same sites in the Roman period; human manipulation is a process we can recognise in many periods, like Delphi’s gradual transformation from a natural sanctuary to an architectural sanctuary. Topographically conspicuous sites were often considered ‘sacred’ over many centuries despite changing religious understandings, necessitating adaptations to the cult, and finally leading to the Christianisation of the sacred landscape.
This is only one small aspect relating to the sacred landscape’s transformation which might have been triggered by changing societal, cultural and political structures. For example, the municipalisation and urbanisation of the Roman provinces led to a profound re-organisation of the sacred landscape, creating a network of cult places in any one community: (1) the towns develop into religious centres, surrounded by countless suburban cult places, often in conspicuous locations (e.g., overlooking the town); (2) focus points for rural communities were created, both for vici and dispersed settlements, by the civitas / colonia / municipium and/or by rural inhabitants, both of elite and sub-elite status, (3) frontier sanctuaries marked the boundaries of the new Roman-style territories, (4) some of the pre-existing sanctuaries were monumentalised if they could be instrumentalised to assist the coherence of the newly founded civitates; (5) we also need to consider more individualistic countertrends, opposing the official ‘civic’ or ‘polis’ narrative, for example when individuals worshipped new sacred sites and monumentalised them. In addition, there is an imperial discourse: in the Roman empire many pre-Roman sites became associated with Roman deities (e.g. Jupiter and the Alps, replacing ‘indigenous’ deities like Poeninus) and the imperial cult. We also find this in a Greek context when a Greek mythical, religious narrative was used to legitimise military and cultural expansion. Furthermore, the increasing ‘globalisation’ in the Mediterranean world led to the introduction of new deities and cults that might profoundly affect the nature of the sacred landscape: for the goddess Isis, for example, we often find sanctuaries in conspicuous topographical locations, dominating the urban and rural landscape.
We also have to investigate how entire landscapes were invested with meaning. Mountains, rivers and springs were ‘sacralised’, for example by being associated with particular myths, heroes and deities; very often there are only hints to suggest these ‘sacralisations’, like the choice of epithets in votive inscriptions. In the Greek East, for example, we can recognise in our literary, epigraphic and archaeological sources how essential natural features, like rivers and mountains, were for people’s identity; as anthropomorphic deities they were worshipped because they protected the inhabitants of a polis and generated prosperity; rivers and mountains became a fictional space in which important or
Many studies on ancient cults focus on individual sites, deities or cult places, but they often ignore the wider environment. Why did people choose a particular geographical location? What makes a geographical feature ‘sacred’ and how was this sacred space demarcated from the profane? The sacred landscape is not simply what we see, but a way of seeing: we see it with our eyes but interpret it with our mind. Landscape is therefore a cultural construct which gives meaning to places and reflect human memory.
Religious signs, rituals, aetiological myths, theonyms and epithets, as well as human constructions (e.g. architecture) together create a web of ciphers and symbols that make up the sacred landscape of a region, creating a text or narrative of a sacred landscape invested with meaning.
Here we also need to consider how the landscape might have been manipulated: this is most notable when contrasting the sacred rivers, springs and hills in the Iron Age with the subsequent monumentalisation beyond recognition of the same sites in the Roman period; human manipulation is a process we can recognise in many periods, like Delphi’s gradual transformation from a natural sanctuary to an architectural sanctuary. Topographically conspicuous sites were often considered ‘sacred’ over many centuries despite changing religious understandings, necessitating adaptations to the cult, and finally leading to the Christianisation of the sacred landscape.
This is only one small aspect relating to the sacred landscape’s transformation which might have been triggered by changing societal, cultural and political structures. For example, the municipalisation and urbanisation of the Roman provinces led to a profound re-organisation of the sacred landscape, creating a network of cult places in any one community: (1) the towns develop into religious centres, surrounded by countless suburban cult places, often in conspicuous locations (e.g., overlooking the town); (2) focus points for rural communities were created, both for vici and dispersed settlements, by the civitas / colonia / municipium and/or by rural inhabitants, both of elite and sub-elite status, (3) frontier sanctuaries marked the boundaries of the new Roman-style territories, (4) some of the pre-existing sanctuaries were monumentalised if they could be instrumentalised to assist the coherence of the newly founded civitates; (5) we also need to consider more individualistic countertrends, opposing the official ‘civic’ or ‘polis’ narrative, for example when individuals worshipped new sacred sites and monumentalised them. In addition, there is an imperial discourse: in the Roman empire many pre-Roman sites became associated with Roman deities (e.g. Jupiter and the Alps, replacing ‘indigenous’ deities like Poeninus) and the imperial cult. We also find this in a Greek context when a Greek mythical, religious narrative was used to legitimise military and cultural expansion. Furthermore, the increasing ‘globalisation’ in the Mediterranean world led to the introduction of new deities and cults that might profoundly affect the nature of the sacred landscape: for the goddess Isis, for example, we often find sanctuaries in conspicuous topographical locations, dominating the urban and rural landscape.
We also have to investigate how entire landscapes were invested with meaning. Mountains, rivers and springs were ‘sacralised’, for example by being associated with particular myths, heroes and deities; very often there are only hints to suggest these ‘sacralisations’, like the choice of epithets in votive inscriptions. In the Greek East, for example, we can recognise in our literary, epigraphic and archaeological sources how essential natural features, like rivers and mountains, were for people’s identity; as anthropomorphic deities they were worshipped because they protected the inhabitants of a polis and generated prosperity; rivers and mountains became a fictional space in which important or
Many studies on ancient cults focus on individual sites, deities or cult places, but they often ignore the wider environment. Why did people choose a particular geographical location? What makes a geographical feature ‘sacred’ and how was this sacred space demarcated from the profane? The sacred landscape is not simply what we see, but a way of seeing: we see it with our eyes but interpret it with our mind. Landscape is therefore a cultural construct which gives meaning to places and reflect human memory.
Religious signs, rituals, aetiological myths, theonyms and epithets, as well as human constructions (e.g. architecture) together create a web of ciphers and symbols that make up the sacred landscape of a region, creating a text or narrative of a sacred landscape invested with meaning.
Here we also need to consider how the landscape might have been manipulated: this is most notable when contrasting the sacred rivers, springs and hills in the Iron Age with the subsequent monumentalisation beyond recognition of the same sites in the Roman period; human manipulation is a process we can recognise in many periods, like Delphi’s gradual transformation from a natural sanctuary to an architectural sanctuary. Topographically conspicuous sites were often considered ‘sacred’ over many centuries despite changing religious understandings, necessitating adaptations to the cult, and finally leading to the Christianisation of the sacred landscape.
This is only one small aspect relating to the sacred landscape’s transformation which might have been triggered by changing societal, cultural and political structures. For example, the municipalisation and urbanisation of the Roman provinces led to a profound re-organisation of the sacred landscape, creating a network of cult places in any one community: (1) the towns develop into religious centres, surrounded by countless suburban cult places, often in conspicuous locations (e.g., overlooking the town); (2) focus points for rural communities were created, both for vici and dispersed settlements, by the civitas / colonia / municipium and/or by rural inhabitants, both of elite and sub-elite status, (3) frontier sanctuaries marked the boundaries of the new Roman-style territories, (4) some of the pre-existing sanctuaries were monumentalised if they could be instrumentalised to assist the coherence of the newly founded civitates; (5) we also need to consider more individualistic countertrends, opposing the official ‘civic’ or ‘polis’ narrative, for example when individuals worshipped new sacred sites and monumentalised them. In addition, there is an imperial discourse: in the Roman empire many pre-Roman sites became associated with Roman deities (e.g. Jupiter and the Alps, replacing ‘indigenous’ deities like Poeninus) and the imperial cult. We also find this in a Greek context when a Greek mythical, religious narrative was used to legitimise military and cultural expansion. Furthermore, the increasing ‘globalisation’ in the Mediterranean world led to the introduction of new deities and cults that might profoundly affect the nature of the sacred landscape: for the goddess Isis, for example, we often find sanctuaries in conspicuous topographical locations, dominating the urban and rural landscape.
We also have to investigate how entire landscapes were invested with meaning. Mountains, rivers and springs were ‘sacralised’, for example by being associated with particular myths, heroes and deities; very often there are only hints to suggest these ‘sacralisations’, like the choice of epithets in votive inscriptions. In the Greek East, for example, we can recognise in our literary, epigraphic and archaeological sources how essential natural features, like rivers and mountains, were for people’s identity; as anthropomorphic deities they were worshipped because they protected the inhabitants of a polis and generated prosperity; rivers and mountains became a fictional space in which important or
VOLUME4 BRILL LEIDEN BOSTON 2004 THE SACRED LAl"JDSCAPEOF THE KINGDOM OF UGARIT JORDI VIDAL l. lntroduction Thc sacred landscape of Indo-European Hispania was analysed by F. Marco Simn (Marco Simn 1999)in a recent paper. Beyond the specifictraits of that particular geocultural setting, the author noted the existence of certain common attitudes towards landscape present in a great number of traditional societies. This shows, as Frazer or Eliade had already pointed out, the existence of anthrapological structures of the imaginary common to a certain extent among dif- ferent cultures. Along this same line, the perception of landscape, its shapes, and its various elements as supernatural ones is a recurrent pattern. Certain realities were deemed worthy of expressing divine presence, were perceived as alive, animated, and often granted anthrapomorphic traits. This paper aims at analyzing how this sacred conception of land- scape was expressed in the Ugaritic world. Our main sources for this study are the literary and ritual texts recovered fram various ar- chives of the city. However it is toponomy which will allow us to observe a set of attitudes and beliefs concerning landscape which have left no trace in the 'official' literature, and which evoke a deeper level of Ugaritic religion. 2. Sacred landscape Our review begins with the forest, a space tradtionally perceived as sacred, whose mystery either hid the invisiblepresence of the divine or was identified with it. A passage fram the myth of Baal confirms this perception of the forest as the favoured abode of divine charac- ters in Ugarit: Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2004 Also available online - www.brill.nl JANER 4 144 JORDI VIDAL "The enemies of Baa1 grasp hold of (the trees of) the forest." Sacralization of the forest also focuscd on trees, probably as signs of both fertility and protection. We find the best example of it in an incantation against snakes and scorpions recently found in Ugarito2 In this incantation, the practitioner of therapeutic magic states '1 will shake pieces of sacred tree' (amrmrn '5 qdS) in order to avoid the at- tack of snakes and scorpions, in what we regard as a clear reference to the protecting and healing character attributed to the sacred tree. In fact, certain trees such as tamarisk were repeatedly used in Ugaritic magical practice. In one of the paramythological texts, the attributes of tamarisk are referred to as determinant elements invoked to fight the poisonous bite of the serpent.3 Another extremely interesting case is recorded in a reference to a child's healing: "Take (a bunch of) tamarisk(?) and put it in the child's house and it will bring his illness to a head."4 The translation of bnt as tamarisk, fram the Akkadian bznu, poses certain problems in this contexto In ritual and magical texts, the word used for tamarisk is 'r'r. It is possible, then, that the actual meaning of bnt here is 'figurine' (Sanmartn 1978). Del Olmo Lete (Del Olmo Lete 1992: 210 n. 63) has combined both possibilities bringing attention to the habit of burying figurines made precisely of tamarisk in the palace: a well attested pracedure of apotrapaic magic (Beaulieu 1990: 121). This reconstruction certainly reaffirms the importance granted to sacred trees, and particularly tamarisks, in certain rituals of white magic, as the previous example shows. The existencc of a cult dedicated to trees is well attested in the Canaanite sphere, thanks to the Hebrew Bible" and to various clas- sical sources related to the Phoenician world.6 Such cults are some- times linked to goddess Aserah. There are some data beyond the 1 RS 2.08+ (=KTU l.+):vn 35f 2 RS 92.2014 (=RSO 1452, p. 387). 3 RS 24.244 (=KTC 1.100):64. + RS 24.272 (=KTU 1.124):8ff. " Deuteronorny 16:21: Joshua 24:26s: Judges 6:25: Isaiah 1:29; Hosea 4: 13, etc. 6 Achilles Tatius, The Adi'entllres of Lellcippe and Clitophon 2: 14; Herodotus Histou 2:56. THE SACRED LANDSCAPE OF THE Kl;\lGDOM OF UGARIT 145 biblical text' confrrming that the tree was the symbol of the goddess; the physical reality manifesting her presence. This can be observed in various figurines found in Ugarit representing Aserah with a branch or tree situated between the navel and the pubic region (Negbi 1976: 96ff).8 It may now be asked if the cults dedicated to trees were such that they were regarded as the physical manifestations of Aserah, or if they themselves were somehow sacralized. In our opinion, two traits identified in Ugaritic literature favour the latter possibility. The fact that in certain passages an obvious anthropomorphization of trees takes place, with no reference to Aserah,9 and trees' connection to stones which are worshipped in the Near East to this day (Kriss-Kriss- Heinrich 1960-1962), point to their sacralization independent of their association with a particular deity: "A matter of wood (shaft) and a chatter of stone (tip)." 10 "Trees that do not emit (a sound), stones (that) do not whisper."ll "The mother of the stallion, the mare, the daughter of the spring, the daughter of stone, the daughter of the heavens and the abyss." 12 T o condude with the refercnces to this first sphere it is necessary to observe the great number ofUgaritic place names related to the forest or certain types of tree: gpn ("trees"), dprnm ('junipers"), zl dprn ("Shadow of the juniper"), y'rt ("Wood, Forest"), n1;l ("Date-palm"), sfy ("Tree?"), 'rgz ("(Wal)nut"), slrby ("(Place of the) MedIar"), tmrm ("Date-palm(s)"), tpb ("Apple- or Apricot-tree"), tr;;y("Hardwood-tree"), lrmn ("Cypress") (Bordreuil 1996: 63ff; Watson 2001). This sample can be better understood when one bears in mind the richness of a landscape less degraded than our own, as well as the deep religious significance attributed to this kind of vegetation. The mountain was another element of the landscape traditionally See Binger 1997: llOff.; Smith 2002: 108ff. 8 Wiggins differs: "the 'tree' here is so highly stylized that its identification as a plant hardly seems secure" (Wiggins 2001: 183). 9 As vViggins points out: "nowhere in the extant Ugaritic texts does Asherah appear to have been particularly associated with trees" (Wiggins 2001: 180). 10 RS 2.14+ (=KTU 1.3):IlI 22f. 11 RS 15.134 (=KTU 1.82):43. 12 RS 24.244 (=KTU 1.100):1. 146 JORDI VIDAL granted a religious significance as a suitable setting for the gods' abode and as a place of the union of sky and earth. Due to its very physical features the mountain offered a perfect symbolic expression for rep- resenting the connection with the transcendental at a higher spiri- tu al level. The sacred mountain in Ugarit par excellence was Saphon, known todayas Gabal al-Aqra'. Significantly, a Ugaritic text groups together a list of divinities under the heading of the 'gods of Saphon' (il $pn). 13 However, it is Ba'al who on various occasions was granted the title 'the Lord of Saphon' (b'l $pn) 14as the god who had a special rela- tionship with that mountain. In fact, mount Saphon itself was deified (Koch 1993) and as such appears in some passages of epic literature,15 and in various god lists16 and rituals as rcceiving offerings of ewes, 17rams, 18birds 19and cows.20 It also has its own sacrificial pit (j;b $pn).21 However, the perception of the mountain as a sacred place was not limited to mount Saphon. Mountains play an important role in the geographical configuration of the Netherworld. In a passage of the myth recounting the construction ofBa'al's palace, the route fol- lowed by the messengers of the storm god, Gupan and Ugar, to get to the abode of Mot, the god of Death, is described. In this passage we find the most accurate description of the geography of the Netherworld in Ugaritic literature. According to this description, the entrance to the Netherworld was marked by two mountains, Targuziza and Tarrummagi, 'the nvo heights of the confines of the earth' (tlm 13 RS 1.17 (= KTU 1.47). 14 RS 1.01 (= KTU 1.39):10; RS 1.09 (= KTU 1.46):12, 14; RS 1.17 (= KTU 1.47):5; RS 4.474 (= KTU 1.65):10; RS 20.24 (= Ug 5 18):4; RS 24.253 (= KTU 1.109):5,9,29, 32s; RS 24.256 (= KTU 1.112):22s;RS 24.264+ (= KTU 1.118):4; RS 24.284 (= KTU 1.130):2, 7,9; RS 24.643 (= KTU 1.148):10,27; RS 92.2004 (= RSO 1422):7, etc. See a1soRS 3.325+ (= KTU 1.16):16... 15 RS 3.322+ (= KTU 1.19):II 35. 16 RS 20.24 (= Ug 5 18):14; RS 24.264+ (= KTU 1.118):14; RS 24.643 (= KTU 1.148):6, RS 92.2004 (= RSO 1422):10. 17 RS 1.03+ (= KTU 1.41):34,42; RS 1.09 (= KTU 1.46):4,6; RS 18.56 (= KTU 1.87):37,46; RS 24.253 (= KTU 1.109):10, 34. 18 RS 24.643 (= KTU 1.148):6, 29. 19 RS 1.03 (= KTU 1.41):24; RS 18.56 (= KTU 1.87):27; RS 24.249 (= KTU 1.105): 24'; RS 24.284 (= KTU 1.130):8, 10. 20 RS Varia 20 (= KTU 1.162):19. 21 RS 24.249 (= KTU 1.105):21'. 22 RS 2.08+ (= KTU 1.4):VIII 1-20. THE SACRED LAJ'\'DSCAPE OF THE KINGDOM OF UGARIT 147 g$t ar$).22 The name of these mountains cou1d be of Hurrian origin, re1ated to the deities Tarbu and Sarruma. Due to thc northern ori- gin of these deities, some scho1ars place such mountains in the north ofCanaan, in Hurrian territory (Gaster 1961: 197; Astour 1980: 229).23 Others, presuming a clear parallelism with the two twin mountains (Mas u) mentioned in the Baby10nian Gilgames epic, maintain that Targuziza y Iarrummagi were the mountains of the West behind which Sapas, the sun goddess, hid every day (Tsevat 1974; Marga1it 1980: 75). Finally, a third option identifies them with mount Saphon (Wyatt 1998: 112 n. 175). Pardee (Pardee 1997: 263 n. 195) has recently put forward a revi- sion of the physica1 traits ofboth mountains. In his opinion it is possib1e that the Ugaritic word tl, rather than referring to a natural moun- tain, refers to the concept of ruin. If this is so, Targuziza and Iarrummagi cou1d have been imagined as two ruins mounds; two great mounts of rubb1e signa1ing access to the 1and of the dead. It is necessary, then, to abandon any attempt to identify these p1ace-names with any concrete physica1 rea1ity, and to definitively conceptua1ize them as two mythica1 mountains a1ien to the geography of Canaan and its surroundings. An apparently contradictory version of this geography of the Netherwor1d may be found in another passage from the myth of Ba'ap4 There, an unknown deity, probab1y Sapas or Mot himself, instructs Ba'a1 on how to reach the kingdom ofthe dead. According to this passage it was on1y mount Kankanay, not mounts Targuziza and Iarrummagi, that signalled the entry to the Netherworld. The existence of contradictory versions about this matter is not unusual in the Mcsopotamian sphere, due to the absence of any official doc- trine unifying the various traditions (Bottro 1980). The Ugaritic case, however, is rather more problematic because the two versions do not appear, as could happen in Mesopotamian tradition, in various literary passages produced at different times and in different intel- lectual spheres. Rather, both figure in the mythological cycle ofBa'al, thus making it difficult to explain the apparent lack of harmony. The solution to this problem necessitates that one understands Kankanay not as a place-name but as a common name (Xella 1987: 131). As Pardee (Pardee 1997: 267 n. 229) pointed out, the presence 23 Tsevat (Tsevat 1974), however, interprets these as the mountains ofthe horizon; the sun rises and/or sets between them. 24 RS 2.22+ (= KTU l.S):Y 6-17. 148 JORDI VIDAL of the sufEx -y confirms this possibi1ity. In fact the term knkn comes from the root knn (Arabic: 'to cover, cover up, hide'). So, the correct trans1ation of the expression gr knkny wou1d not be "the mountain Kankanay" but "the mountains of my covert", i.e., Targuziza and Tarrummagi25. In this way, in addition to reso1ving the relationship between Kankanay and Targuziza-Iarrummagi, the idea ofthe two mountains as a point of access to the Netherworld is maintained, an idea, as we have seen, also present in Mesopotamian mythology (Vidal 2004b). Taking up again the theme of the mountain as the gods' favoured abode, it should be noted that according to the myth of the battle between Bacal and Yam, El's abode was placed at the top ofmount Kas,26 the assembly of gods was placed on mount Lalu27 (Smith 1994: 225ff.),28 and Anat's home29 (a goddess particularly associated with mount Saphon),30 on mount Inbub, literally 'the god (ofthe) Moun- tain'.31 Finally, a divinity known as 'J\1ountains and Waters of the Abyss' (grm w thmt),32 who receives sacrificial offerings,33 is also found in god lists. In fact, another of the fundamental elements of sacred landscape, namely water, appears in the name of this last divinity associated with the mountain. Its importance as such lies in the perception of water as a source of life, purification and regeneration. It is not sur- prising that in Ugarit, where agriculture, particularly dry farming, depended to a great extent on rain, a deity such as Bacal, the god of 25 Wyatt (Wyatt 1998: 124 n. 43), e.g., differs: 'Mountain ofmy gullet'. In his opinion this alludes to some natural cave on J\ft. Saphon which was understood to be an entrance to the Netherworld. 26 RS 3.361 (= KTU 1.1):III 12. 27 RS 3.367+ (= KTU 1.2):120 and par. 28 Del Olmo Lete (del Olmo Lete 1998: 61 n. 55), e.g., differs; for him Ijursanu, Kas and Lalu were in fact different names all referring to the 'Canaanite 01ympus', the location of the assemb1yof gods and home of El. 2g RS 24.244 (= KTU 1.100):20. 30 RS 1.09 (= KTU 1.46):17; RS 24.253 (= KTU 1.109):13-14, 17,36; RS 24.284 (= KTU 1.130):26. 31 DULAT p. 78; vVatson 2001: 112. 32 RS 20.24 (= Ug 5 18):18; RS 24.264+ (= KTU 1.118):18; RS 24.643 (= KTU 1.148):41;RS 92.2004 (= RSO 1422):29. See Pardee 2000 and Pardee 2002. 33 RS 24.643 (= KTU 1.148):6,41. 34 RS 1.03 (= KTU 1.41):34f;RS 4.474 (= KTU 1.65):lOf;RS 18.56 (= KTU 1.87):36f; RS 24.249 (= KTU 1.105):6'; RS 24.253 (= KTU 1.109):11, 16, 34, THE SACRED LANDSCAPE OF THE KINGDOM OF UGARIT 149 the storm and ferti1ityofthe fields, was p1aced at the top ofthe Ugaritic pantheon, crowned as the 'Lord ofUgarit' (b'l ugrt)34 and celebrated as 'Mighty Ba'a1' (aliJn b'0,35 'mightiest of the heroes' (aliJ qrdm)36 and 'The Powerfu1' (dmrn),37 patron and protector of the city and the kingdom (Wyatt 1999: 544f; Herrmann 1999: 132ft). The importance of water for Ugarit's population is well attested in the plethora of place-names related to springs, rivers, marshes, etc.38 A pattern, not only in Ugarit but practically in all traditional societies, is the conception of wells and springs as abodes and mani- festations of divinities, for they high1ight such a valuable commodity as water. In fact, an Ugaritic incantation against a snake bite locates El's abode at 'the springs of the Two- Rivers' (mbk nhrm).39 In relation to this concept, I wou1d 1iketo underscore two Ugaritic place-names: 'Source of Mky' Cnmk(y)) and 'source of Qpat' Cnqpat), that cou1d refer precisely to two deities connected to springs. It is certainly possible that both Mky and Qpat were really two proper names and if this were so, the place names wou1d not contain any religious or divine reference. However, neither ofthese proper names are attested in Ugaritic texts.40 They do not appear in the ritual texts either. In any case, this wou1d only underline the fact that we might be dealing with two divinities or rural genies associated with a very specific and restricted geographica1 reality, with no impact upon the urban pantheon we are familiar with, something that wou1d easily explain their absence in such a sphcrc. As for the perception of water as a destructive force, which is a well attested aspect in Ugaritic sources,4! we find the god Yam. Yam whose divine profile is well developed in Ugaritic mythology, is, as his name shows, the Sea-God, but he is also a god related to rivers. 35[; RS 24.256 (= KTU 1.112):23; RS 24.266 (= KTU 1.119):3,9[,12,21'[; RS 24.284 (= KTU 1.130):11,23. 35 E.g., RS 2.22+ (= KTU 1.5):VI 9. 3(i E.g., RS 2.14+ (= KTU 1.3):III 14. 37 E.g., RS 2.08 (= KTU 1.4):VII 39. 38 agm ('Swamp'), bir ('Well'), nb/pk ('\Vell', 'Spring'), nbkm (Two springs'), nlpy ('Riverine'), slb ('Watered fields'), sql ('Marsh'?), f;y(n)dr ('River o[ (Mount) Ndr'?) .... See Bordreuil 1996:61ss; Watson 2001. 39 RS 24.244 (= KTU 1.100):3. 40 In Mari (ARM IX 294 1. 7, ARM XXII !O, MARI 5 p. 598 no. 4) (Millet, personal communication) and in the Phoenician world (Benz 1972: 138) the name mky is attested. 11 See, [or example, the shipwrcck in RS 18.31 (= KTU 2.38). 150 JORDI VIDAL This is clearly expressed in his titles 'Prince Sea' (bht ym) and 'Ru1er River' (IN nhr). In such contexts, rivers are construed as destructive powers. Yam personifies the chaotic side of water. This image is reinforced by assocations with monsters such as Lotan, the seven headed serpent, Tunnan, the primordial dragon, Aris, the Demander, and 'Atik, the Binder described as I1u's ca1f.42Yam, in sum, repre- sents the power of chaos assocated with rivers and the sea (Sto1z 1999: 739ft). The last great space within Ugaritic sacred 1andscape is the desert, a biotope a1ien to the ecological reality of the kingdom of Ugarit, but which was, however, represented in 1iterary and cultic texts. In one instance the desert Say is recognized as adivine desert,43 the place where of E1's concubines will go to in order to give birth to those creatures known as the 'Voracious Ones' (aklm), 'Destructive Ones' ('qqm) and 'Thirsty Ones' (gllm). In another text, probab1y re- cording a ritual re1ated to the question of fertility (Del Olmo Lete 1981: 437ff; De Moor 1987: 117f),44 the concept of a holy desert inhabited by the Voracious Ones ready to devour any element of life, reappears.45 The images reflected in these texts translate a clearly negative conception of this space, one common to all Ancent Near Eastern urban civilizations. Such a conception may be found in Mesopotamian literature in works such as the poem of Atrabasis, the epic of Erra, the epic of Gilgame?3 and, particularly, in magical literature. In the latter, the desert and the steppe are often represented as place s of barbarity, destruction and death, populated by demons, bandits and wild beasts (Lackenbacher 1989). In addition to these four great elements oflandscape (forest, moun- tain, water, desert) Ugaritic toponomy has left us evidence of par- ticular spaces to which other sacred traits are also attached. Some place names attest to the preferential protection of certain divinities in whose care such sites were placed: ilftm' ('The (place of) the 'l of Listening', gb'ly ('Site ofBa'al), lbil ('May El Return'), mril (uncertain meaning, but contains i0. Others remind us of the manifestation of 42 RS 2.14 (= KTU 1.3):III 44. 43 RS 2.12 (= KTU 1.12):122. 44 Far Dietrich and Loretz (Dietrich-Loretz 1988: 350ft) it is an incantation against ma1ign farces of nature. 45 RS 2.02 (= KTU 1.23). THE SACRED LANDSCAPE OF THE KINGDOM OF UGARIT 151 divinity that occurred in a given moment in the past: lq ('(Place of) Thunder (?)),rrl$ bt ('Memorial'). Finally, the names of some sites contain a more generic reference relating them to the sacred sphere: ubre('Place of Ascent'(?)), dmt qdf ('Sacred Tower'), ndb ('(Place of) Offering') (Watson 2001). 3. Conclusions The conception of landscape reflected by the quoted evidence al- lows for a clear appreciation of the sacralization of four great spheres (forest, mountain, water, desert), which a poetic view of the world associated with the sphere of the supernatural. The sum of these four great elements, or their constitutive parts, acquired an essential re- ligious significance through a series of repeated processes: anthropo- morphization (mountain, sea/river, tree, stone), their association with divine characters (mountain, tree, springs) and their conception as space populated by supernatural creatures (sea, desert, wood). Those elements of landscape were 'trans-figured', thus acquiring a mean- ing beyond their primary or natural one. Ugaritic landscape appears in the sources as a reality rich with symbols but not with signs, in which each of the mentioned elements was attributed a meaning related to it (e.g. desert-desolation; water-fertility/purification), while lacking any arbitrariness. What the interest raised by landscape, perceived as a reality capable of representing the divine, denotes is, in short, the close connection that the Ugaritic individual, as a member of an agricultural and herding society,46 kept with nature; a nature he barely controlled and which conditioned, to a great extent, the course of his life. Bibliography AstoUf, M.C. 1980. 'The Nether vVorld and its Denizens at Ugarit", in: B. AIster (ed.): Death in Mesopotamia. Copenhagen, pp. 227-242. Beaulieu, P.A. 1990. "Lion-Man: uridimmu or urdimmu?", ,NABU 1990: n. 121. 46 It should be remembered that more than three quarters of the population of the kingdom of Ugarit were concentrated in about 200 villages spread around the territory. International commerce, speeialized craftsmanship and other elements typical of the capital's truly urban economy were located at some distance from this majority (Heltzer 1976; Liverani 1983; Vidal 2004a). 152 JORDI VIDAL Benz, F.L. 1972. 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Las aldeas de Ugarit segn los archil'Os del Bronce Reciente. Barcelona (unpublishcd PhD dissertation). Vidal,J. 2004b. "Geografia del Infierno ugartico segn el ciclo mitolgico de Ba'al," Historiae 1: 107-114. Watson, W.G.E. 2001. "The Lexical Aspect ofUgaritic Toponyms", AuOr 19: 109- 123. Wiggins, S.A. 2001. "Of Asherahs and Trees: Some l\Iethodological Questions", ]ANER 1: 158-187. THE SACRED LANDSCAPE OF THE KINGDOM OF UGARIT 153 Wyatt, N. 1998. Religious Texts from Ugarit. Sheffield. Wyatt, N. 1999. "The Religion of Ugarit: an Overview", in: W.G.E. Watson-N. Wyatt (eds.): Handbook of Ugaritic Studies. Leiden-Boston-Kb1n, pp. 529-585. Xella, P. 1987. "Imago mortis nella Siria antica", in: P. Xella (ed.): Archeologia dell'Infirno. Verona, pp. 117-145.