There was fascinating news for the Jewish world in late 1932. A French-American archaeological expedition in Syria had unearthed, within the remains of what had been a Roman frontier town on the Euphrates called Dura-Europos, a third century synagogue converted from a cluster of houses, its walls covered entirely with wonderful biblical narrative murals in prime condition.

Dura appeared to have had an intriguing history. Roman since 165 CE but besieged by the forces of the Sassanid dynasty in the year 256, the garrison’s defensive measures had included removal of the roofs of the buildings along the city’s west wall, including those of the synagogue, the Mithraic and Palmyrian temples, as well as a Christian chapel, all lying close to one another. What remained of their structures had then been filled with desert sand to obstruct the enemy’s tunnelling.

The city had nevertheless fallen to the Sassanids a year later and was abandoned thereafter. However, the synagogue’s captivating murals, finished in tempera on plaster, had been kept safe in their sandy tomb until their discovery 17 centuries later, much like those from the ashes of Pompeii and Herculaneum.

wiki Cour, portique ouest et grande salle de la synagogue de Doura Europos.

The ruins of the synagogue (Photo: Wikipedia)

They were also found to have been virtually new. An Aramaic inscription honouring their donor, one Samuel b. Yedaya, confirmed their commencement as late as 244 CE.

Completed in only 249/250, the refurbished building had, tragically for its community, been in use under Samuel’s leadership for barely half a dozen years prior to its disappearance.

A compelling story, but it wasn’t long before questions were asked. Figurative imagery all over a synagogue? In apparent breach of the second commandment? Surely not like Michelangelo’s Sistine chapel? Scholars pointed to the express permission for such artwork, given contemporaneously in the Jerusalem Talmud (Avodah Zarah 3:3, 48d) by the eminent R. Johanan bar Nappaha (180 – 279 CE), and without dissent.

Very well, but in a town called Dura-Europos? Apart from a passing reference to a “Dura valley” in Daniel 3:1, no one had ever heard of the place.

Moreover, Nehardea, the important Jewish centre and seat of the famed academy that lay downstream on the Euphrates, was at the height of its influence and authority in Dura’s time, yet the latter features nowhere in Talmud nor in any other contemporary source.

The archaeological evidence nonetheless spoke for itself. Dura turned out, in its strategic location, to be not only a military base but a lively trading centre hosting, apart from soldiers and travellers from all directions, a mix of Roman, Parthian, Christian, Jewish and other communities in a babble of Aramaic, Greek and other tongues.

Judging by the proximity of their respective houses of worship, people appeared for the most part to have lived peaceably alongside one another, enabling Jews to achieve the kind of prosperity that made possible the spectacular decorations enriching their synagogue. (Graffiti showed they had been visited and admired, even in their short lifetime).

Following their removal, transport to and reconstruction in the National Museum of Damascus at completion of the excavations, they remain there to this day, hopefully safe from the turmoils of the Syrian wars. Courtesy of Islamic State, nothing remains of their original home in Dura.

Whereas only 60 per cent of the former wall areas had been found, no fewer than 58 narrative scenes fill 28 panels in three main registers between floor and ceiling levels. Those on the western wall with its central Torah niche, originally facing Jerusalem, remain both the most important and, fortunately, the most complete. There is a full-size copy of the room at Yale University.

While the frontality of the figures is typical of Parthian art, their disposition is unmistakeably Graeco-Roman. A veritable cavalcade of Jewish heroes (alas, few heroines) parades before us, including Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses (depicted in eight vivid scenes from his eventful life), Aaron, Samuel, David, Solomon, Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Mordechai and the Maccabees.

Miracles and battles abound. Elijah appears five times, culminating in his confrontation with the prophets of Baal, perhaps a subtle denunciation of the nearby idolatry of the time.
And David as king of Israel is given pride of place above the Torah niche, possibly in response to early Christian denials of his ultimate return as Israel’s Messiah. Subversive polemics may have been quietly at work here.

However, the most remarkable tableau of all is the colourful sequential Purim scene as shown above, located prominently next to the niche for the Torah. On the left Mordechai, clad splendidly in a royal Persian trouser suit with mantle, bestrides a magnificent white horse. He is led by Haman, humiliated in his skimpy outfit to the role of humble stable boy as suggested in the Midrash.

On the right Ahasuerus, appearing in a regal ensemble similar to that of Mordechai, occupies a golden throne decorated with lions and eagles, (the Midrash identifies it as that of Solomon, looted from Jerusalem). Backed by his courtiers, the king hands a document to, or takes it from, a messenger, undoubtedly relating to the defence of Persia’s Jewish communities from their enemies as mentioned in the Book of Esther.

Although this is above all Esther’s story, she sits modestly some way back to the left of her husband, (it’s clearly a man’s world here), dressed in Greek garb and elaborate Persian headgear, her lady-in-waiting behind her. Four anonymous figures in togas stand in the centre, their right hands raised in a gesture of acclamation of the drama on either side of them.

In depicting this scene in its place of honour next to the Torah, it’s likely the Jews of Dura were evoking, in the context of their people’s epic saga, their own eventful 800-year history in Persia and Babylonia, using the visual language of their place and time.
By enlisting the memory of a momentous past, they clearly sought to assert their Jewish identity, express their gratitude for God’s blessings, and enhance the prestige and self-esteem of their community. In setting us that remarkable example, they have also left us a priceless addition to our heritage.