Various strands of religious thought distinguish veneration from worship. According to these traditions, believers ought to worship God alone. To worship anything else, they say, is idolatry. Yet many of these same believers also claim to venerate – but not worship – saints, angels, images, relics, tombs, and even each other. What’s the difference? Tim Bayne and Yujin Nagasawa (: 302) are correct that “it seems to be extremely difficult to distinguish veneration from worship.” Many have argued throughout history that veneration collapses into worship and that those who venerate saints or icons are guilty of idolatry. In this essay, we distinguish worship from veneration in two stages. First, we give a formal account of their difference. Drawing from St. John of Damascus (c. 675–749 AD), we argue that worship is a determinate of the determinable veneration. Second, we give more substantive accounts of both that explain both their differences and similarities. Drawing again from St. John, we argue that acts of veneration and worship signify subordination. Their difference, however, lies in the fact that worship alone requires absolute subordination.

The public worship of Christian saints started to spread in Egypt in the fifth century CE. This was particularly the case in the Nile Delta, which is characterised by its unique location. This phenomenon is a multi-layered practice that is difficult to explore in full; nonetheless, the object of this chapter is to grasp some of the dynamics behind the growth or decline of a saint’s cult and the overall alteration of Christian saints’ glorification in the Delta between the fifth and ninth centuries. The dynamics in this context suggest that the evolution or decline of saints’ popularity were due to religious, cultural and social practices. A large variety of literary texts were witness to the presence of a saint’s cult and bear information about saints’ veneration in different periods. Selections from these sources are explored in this chapter. Other complex factors to be discussed include the topography and location of cults, the nature of the religious landscape where the veneration started, cultural exchanges and language barriers, socio-economic growth and political and institutional rivalries and shifts.

For millennia, Egyptian rulers dedicated vast resources to managing the annual inundation of the Nile, with the mandate to govern Egypt contingent upon the critical responsibility of channelling and gauging the river. These responsibilities encompassed critical administrative, engineering and hydraulic undertakings, from dam construction and canal dredging to precise monitoring of water levels to predict harvests and levy taxes. Yet, this mandate was also contingent upon the veneration of the Nile as both guarantor of Egypt’s prosperity and the conduit of divine grace and God’s agent of reward and punishment. Nile veneration in medieval Islam addressed these symbolic and spiritual aspects, through ceremonies enacted throughout the year centred on the nilometer (al-miqyās) at the island of al-Rawda, which served as supplications to God for a precise level of rising flood waters. Striking a delicate balance between the pragmatic and symbolic necessitated a nuanced response to the ancient practice of Nile veneration, one which had no precedent in Islam. My intention is to examine the interplay and balance between these considerations by analysing the phenomenon of nilometer construction in medieval Islamic Egypt through the lens of Nile veneration between the 7th and 11th centuries CE.

The corporeal dimensions of prayer before icons are often attributed to superstition, antiquated beliefs, or a “graced” function of metaphysical participation. In contrast to this, I develop a phenomenological analysis of corporeal substitution as a real possibility of ordinary experience, for an absent person we love strongly can come to presence in a thing before us and provoke a corporeal response. Guided by the story of the acheiropoieton, the “icon made without hands,” I show how the structure of this ordinary human practice is altered when elevated to prayerful substitution, and through its repetition over time, this allows the icon to serve as a means of communion for the believer across both visual and corporeal dimensions.