The images that do appear to have survived the processes of cultural evolution to remain associated with these religions into the modern period are not figurative (or apparently direct) representations of either YHWH or Ahura Mazda. The absence of images of these deities does not necessarily diminish the presence of art deemed religious as a building block of modern Judaism or Zoroastrianism. It does, however, suggest that such images cannot be considered autochthonous developments of the mobile pastoralist societies in which YHWH- and Mazda-worship seem to have originated. A prime example of this is the inconsistent and fraught identification of the winged figure with Ahura Mazda. Shenkar writes, 

The first image of Ahura Mazdā created by the Iranians is probably the Achaemenian ‘Figure in the Winged Ring’, which is undoubtedly the most significant divine image to emerge from Achaemenian art and is one of its most well known and recognizable manifestations. This figure is found in countless variations in almost every form of media, including rock-reliefs, seals, bullae and satrapal coinage. It makes its first—and most detailed and elaborate—appearance on the victory relief of Darius I carved at the rock of Behestün.¹

Shenkar’s careful language reveals the level of confidence with which an adroit scholar can assert any relationship between the image and deity: “probably.” In her entry on Ahura Mazda in the Encyclopedia Iranica Mary Boyce claims that, although many have considered the winged figure (or figure in the winged disc) to represent the deity, the image has been shown to refer to the concept of “glory” or “fortune”, xwarenah.² Despite Boyce’s conclusion, it seems prudent to defer to Rose’s observation that, ultimately, “[both] the iconography and identification of this motif are uncertain”.³

This uncertainty appears to be connected to the lack of clarity surrounding the beliefs of the Achaemenid rulers who, following Cyrus, adapted, adopted, appropriated, and assimilated various cultural products and social systems to build the first Persian empire. It seems clear that the images, institutions, and concepts borrowed into the Achaemenid imperial project were interpreted through Iranian lenses resulting in a hybrid culture the decipherment of which, as in the case of the winged figure, continues to vex scholars. The figureless winged disc, for example, is an image attested across ancient Near Eastern visual sources and examples of winged figure closely related to those attributed to the Achaemenids appear throughout Neo-Assyrian and Urartian sources.⁴ Although it is beyond the scope of this dissertation to examine the volume of variations on this type of symbol it is important to note that it cannot be identified as having originated in the same context as the worship of Ahura Mazda. Whatever the meaning assigned to it in the Achaemenid, Sasanian, and modern periods, the association of the winged figure with the religion that would become Zoroastrianism seems to be a later development in the history of Mazda-worship. 

Above, an examination of art associated with Zoroastrianism in the 21^stcentury CE revealed the strength of association between the modern religion and the symbol of the winged figure, despite the lack of certainty as to the “original” meaning of this image in its Achaemenid context. Another “icon” so closely linked to the present-day religion, fire-in-a-holder, also appears to have its roots in the visual culture of the first Persian empire. The reliefs on the tombs of Darius I and Xerxes I at Naqsh-e Rustam, for example, depict scenes of the figures (ostensibly the rulers, themselves) standing before a fire-in-a-holder (or altar). These scenes appear to have been integrated into the Sasanian imperial project as well, as the volume of coins bearing similar images attests. Because of its persistence into the modern period, it is clear that these scenes depict some form of ritual that was either originally, or came to be, related to the worship of Ahura Mazda.⁵ This is significant to the discussion taken up in this chapter because it is art that can be deemed religious as a consequence of its depiction of religious activities. Like the photographs that appear in the English-language Wikipedia entries for Zoroastrianism, as well as Judaism, these ancient depictions, of religious activity conducted before fire-in-a-holder, seem to show “real life” examples of people “doing” religion. It is not insignificant that, with regard to the Achaemenid rulers, this seems to be the visual equivalent of Darius I’s inscriptions claiming a relationship with Ahura Mazda. Recall Albert de Jong’s insight into the role that Achaemenid ambitions of empire-building played in the formation of pre-Zoroastrian religion.⁶ It appears reasonable to assume that, just as the decision to declare himself a worshipper of Ahura Mazda must have been perceived to have political value for Darius I, the strategic appropriation and presentation of particular images must have been understood to carry specific political benefits.

The art deemed, at once both religious and political, developed by the different Persian empires appears to have been aimed at influencing adherents, but by responding to, and working within, the conceptual frameworks available at the time. It is these schemata that have been lost to modern viewers, as noted above by Berger. What can be reconstructed, however, is that the art deemed religious that has been claimed and reproduced by adherents across time and space are the symbols that have lasted into the modern period. The fact that the earliest appearance of connections between the winged figure, fire-in-a-holder, and worshippers of Ahura Mazda can be dated to the reign of Darius I suggests that the building block of art deemed religious was not integral to the origination of Mazda-worship in its mobile pastoralist social context. The parallel absence of depictions of YHWH in Judaism suggest that, like the absence of the block buildings deemed religious, this component might not (or not so easily) be developed in agriculturally marginal landscapes. 

Like the development of the winged figure and fire-in-a-holder images, ancient attestations of the symbols associated with modern Judaism suggest that they became linked to the worship of YHWH as the result of adoption or adaptation. In Encyclopedia of Jewish Concepts, Philip Birnbaum writes,

Like the seven-branched Menorah, the Magen David, composed of two triangles, has been a symbolical ornament of Judaism for many centuries. It was found in the Capernaum synagogue of the third century and on a Jewish tombstone in southern Italy, likewise dated as early as the third century of the common era. Since the Magen David (David’s shield) is not mentioned in rabbinic literature, and has been found on Roman mosaic pavements, it is assumed that the star formed of two superimposed triangles is not of Jewish origin.⁷

Birnbaum’s conclusion is not surprising considering the scant attestations linking this symbol with early Jewish communities. It is significant that among the “Roman mosaic pavements” to which he refers is the floor of a Roman villa found at Neo Paphos in southern Cyprus dated to the late fourth century BCE.⁸ The image of a six-pointed star next to a swastika is startling to 21^stcentury eyes, but the apparent lack of significance intended for the image amidst a mosaic floor (8.40m wide) covered in geometric shapes highlights the danger of assuming ancient meaning through modern lenses.⁹ Two shapes that are unquestionably associated with beliefs and history in the current period are easily lost in a mosaic containing a variety of what might be called a potpourri of geometric shapes. It is cogent to Birnbaum’s comments that this shape appears in a context that renders it fairly meaningless to viewers more than two-thousand years beyond its creation. The absence of its association with either the worship of YHWH or the nascent Jewish communities of the late first millennium BCE emphasizes the potential for this shape to have either been adopted by adherents or to have originated in multiple independent societies. The seeming ubiquity of certain simple geometric shapes across cultures suggests that some designs have stronger potential for “multiple independent origins” than others.

By virtue of its functional simplicity and flexibility of design, a candelabra might be described as a tool the image of which could appear organically in multiple independent contexts. It is highly likely, however, that the design or artistic rendering of such tools would be very different across cultures. This makes the modern Jewish symbol of the menorah much more easily identified in ancient sources, such as the Roman “Arch of Titus.” The image of a distinctly familiar candelabra depicted in association with the conquest of Jerusalem in the first century CE strongly suggests that this is an early attestation of the modern symbol of Judaism. In Sacred Images Joseph Gutmann explains that there is some disagreement among scholars as to the relationship between the menorah depicted on the Arch of Titus and those that appear on early synagogue mosaics.¹⁰ The question, he explains, concerns the determination of the origins of the image and at attempt to understand the potentially historical situation of objects in Solomon’s Temple. He writes,

Is the seven-branched menorah, then, a fiction relating to an object which never really existed? This can hardly be the case, as it is mentioned in the Book of Maccabees (I Macc 1 21) and of course is prominently depicted on the Arch of Titus as one of the spoils of the Jerusalem Temple. The menorah described in Exodus was probably the menorah – the one, that is, which stood in the Second Temple and which was projected back into the wilderness Tabernacle by the priestly writers in order to establish its sanctity and antiquity in the Second Temple. The present confusion between the ten historical menorot of Solomon’s Temple and the ahistorical menorah in the Tabernacle stems from the effort of the priestly writers to legitimize the menorah they saw in the Second Temple.¹¹

Gutmann’s comments highlight the incongruities between images across the ancient sources in which they are found, as well as, the significance of the Hebrew texts to explaining the origins of this art deemed religious. Like the symbolic fire (and holder) associated with ancient and modern worshippers of Ahura Mazda, the image of a menorah depicts a “real life” counterpart used in ritual settings (as in modern celebration of Hanukkah). This insight suggests that the difficulty of ascertaining the origins of either symbol is perhaps irrelevant to an examination of how art deemed religious, as a building block, was expressed in communities of adherents to the religions of Ahura Mazda and YHWH. The depiction of worship, rather than the object of worship, is an expression of this building block that appears to agree with the general absence of buildings deemed religious (a likely indicator of some form of outdoor worship) among the mobile pastoralist societies out of which these deities arose. 

It is important to comment on the dates associated with the images discussed in this chapter: they all appear after the point of contact between worshippers of YHWH and Ahura Mazda. This is not insignificant to an examination of the origins of the respective symbolic use of images of the Star of David and menorah, or winged figure and fire-in-a-holder, by these communities. This makes certain comparisons unreliable: the independent origins and meaning of portable fire, for instance, between the menorah and fire holder cannot be considered from the images produced after contact. The examination undertaken in this chapter reveals that processes of assimilation, adaptation, appropriation, and adoption are visible in the histories of art deemed religious claimed by these communities – there is no reason to discount the possibility that adherents of these two religions deemed monotheistic could, and did, interact.¹²