Knots and Notes: The Shared Structures, Semiotics, and Supplications in Georgian Chant and the

Orthodox Prayer Rope

Sr Sidonia (Freedman)

While musical and iconographic traditions receive a fair amount of scholarly attention, and
ecclesiastical textiles have recently afforded greater study, the common prayer rope has almost no
dedicated material beyond encyclopedic entries and popular articles. The possible reasons for this state
of things will not be discussed here due to lack of time and immediate relevance. The main topic at
hand, stemming from my study of Georgian chant alongside pre-altar crosses, carved labyrinths, and
other sacred objects, is the similarity in structure, practice, and theological significance, bound up in
both the prayer rope knot and examples of Georgian polyphony. I will briefly give some relevant
Georgian terminology, discuss the knot itself and in conjunction with music (as I did for woven textiles in
my previous paper); show the building of its structure together with that of a typical musical phrase;
and, within patristic, Scriptural, iconographic, and ritual context, discuss symbolic and theological
meanings, characteristics, and functions, especially in light of the Jesus prayer and theological cross-
domain mapping, that is, contemplation. The various types of material are not ad hoc but connect to
one another primarily as anthropological and ritual phenomena, historical evidence being scarce and
somewhat circumstantial as is often the case for early Christian art objects, as Martin Werner notes in
his work on Celtic crosses and carpet pages in light of Coptic and Hagiopolite examples; it is theology
and its expression that provide a foundation for all data. I will end with reflections on what we may
gather from the prayer rope regarding the impact of chant, of whatever tradition, style, or level of
proficiency and performance.

The Georgian term for a prayer rope is "psk'vnili," which relates to several words that denote tying
and knots. There is a second term, "k'rialosani," for a prayer cord strung with beads. This word roughly
signifies something that is accompanied with "kyrie eleison;" the knotted cord is a special type of this
item with its own name, which is not unlike the Greek term komposkoini. This paper will employ the
English term "prayer rope," as the occasionally-used "rosary," even for a string of beads, applies to a
different context and set of practices. There is no space for discussing the history of the prayer rope and
the Jesus prayer, in Georgia or elsewhere, but the existence of the two Georgian terms may be
significant; it at least shows that "Lord, have mercy" is a basic form of the prayer; the same is reflected
in Egyptian material, beginning from the fourth century, as recently summarised by Metropolitan
Kallistos (Ware) and Mark N. Swanson. The earliest Georgian inscriptions hint at the Jesus prayer, and
hitherto unexplored Georgian sources, or sources extant only in Georgian translation, may have much to
say about the widespread and foundational nature of what has been debated to be either an early
Coptic or a later Greco-Slavic tradition. It is rather something that is both universal and variegated, like
language and church music. The earliest unquestionable written reference to the prayer rope in any
language that I have yet come across occurs in the eighteenth-century teachings of St Kosmas of Aetolia,
and he speaks of it as something with a venerable tradition by that time. The many references to plaits
and fringes in the writings of the Xanthopouloi in the Philokalia, while referring to structures that are
less specific and which would likely be known, may bear earlier witness to the use of a prayer rope.
Archaeological finds from the seventh-fifteenth centuries in Egypt, Ireland, and Russia include beads,
but recent excavations of rope and cordage at monastic sites from late antiquity require further
investigation. Common stories of the origin of the prayer rope, briefly discussed below, seem to have
circulated primarily in oral tradition, along with the tying methods. I have not yet ascertained the
earliest known depiction of a prayer rope in iconography.

The final structure of the prayer rope knot is not a unique form. It has many names in practical
literature, including the diamond knot, Chinese button knot, and knife lanyard knot; it can be found in
everything from sailors' gear and traditional Chinese clothing to extant eighteenth-century Inuit sled
straps (one wonders if St Herman of Alaska saw an example). However, in these various contexts, the
algorithm, that is, the repeatable method of production, differs, and the Orthodox prayer rope likewise
has its own particular algorithms. In these, the knot is tied in two major phases, one to form the initial
pattern, and another to make two repetitions, as in forming a braid. In this second phase, tightened
loops are untied from their first positions in an partial, unstable knot, freeing and incorporating two
loops that form a large cross into the final knot, forming the pattern repetitions. The first phase can be
subdivided into two parts, the first forming a kind of foundation, and the second, a building up. There
are at least two methods for the first phase; the second phase is generally the same, having a unicursal,
labyrinth-like path for the thread, but it may differ somewhat in exact execution on an individual basis.
This paper explores only one of the first-phase methods. The shared surface structure yet differing
algorithms of this knot can be understood as a tactile and visual phenomenon that corresponds to the
interactive, sonic structures and variations in worldwide polyphonic singing traditions. We explored the
relationship of metre to woven structures in my previous paper, and while colour and other structural
aspects may enhance the potential of weaving, knot algorithm and structure, from a haptic perspective,
afford greater movement, direction, and dimensionality, which relate well to pitch changes and phrase
structures. Methods for holding thread, maintaining uniform space and tension, and other fine motor
elements will not be examined, though they are important, as are breathing, posture, and firm vocal
production in chant. Thus, in the singing algorithm, it is the particulars of phonation, pitch production,
and patterning that we will discuss, leaving aside articulation, rhythm, and other aspects. Furthermore,
the live musical surface is simultaneous with its enacted algorithm, while the final knot is a result that
comes later in time. This distinction, however, affords polyphonic exploration, as it happens when one
person sings each voice separately over time, building up the structure. In practice, then, it is only
possible for several persons to tie a polyphonic knot in real time. A prayer rope knot, on the other hand
is made by one person, layering, wrapping, and manipulating loops, until it is complete. Let us now
simultaneously illustrate the tying of a knot and the layering of all three voices in a simple musical
phrase, a form of the Jesus prayer.

Because the general shape of characteristic musical phrases and the prayer rope knot share
geometric characteristics, such as symmetry, translation, and reflection, on various levels, the cross-
domain mapping of melodic and tying gestures can be parsed out in multiple ways. This example of a
relatively unadorned litany response is mapped onto the knot algorithm as follows: phase one includes
all three voices, and phase two follows the scheme of the top voice model melody and its reflection in
the third voice. Thus, we have several repetitions of the bottom voice, corresponding to its traditionally
being sung by several people, as opposed to soloists on the other two voices. Let us look at the mapping
and then explain it, focusing on the most salient details.

The foundational steps of the first phase create three important loops, the last being of great
importance to the structure and necessary for the later transition to the second phase. It also includes
the shifting of loops, like the crossing of the top two voices in Western Georgian chant (including this
example), or of the calling or leading, and following of these same two voices in folk hymns. Throughout
the entire process, two strands are alternating and intertwining, yet the number of important loops at
various stages is three. Thus, the second part of phase one includes the formation of three more loops,
one corresponding to each voice. One working strand first follows a path over, under, and out, forming
one loop around two fingers and reflecting the first voice, including voice crossing as it goes inside the
loop on the thumb. This same strand, now reflecting the second voice, then goes below the other
working strand, creates a loop around the middle finger, continues below the loops that reflect the top
voice, and travels out again. The second working strand then corresponds to the bottom voice and
reflects part of the loop formation in the set-up steps, creating a loop around both fingers like the
earlier top voice loops, and travelling under all other loops, before going up and out. The drawing out of
the thread at the end of each of these wrappings reflects the musical cadence, especially when it is
unison as in this example. The transition clearly forms a cross, though this shape is also elsewhere,
which we will discuss later. The second phase repeats the general shape of the phrase, especially as
reflected in the top and bottom voices, following a unicursal path for the pattern repetition, up, down,
up, and through. The loop formed by each of the two strands is followed through three times and then
drawn through, like the cadential gesture in phase one.

We will now explore the theology of the knot structure in conjunction with related material of various
kinds. Just as musical mapping can be carried out in various ways, and alternate phase one methods
open up even greater possibilities, different aspects of theology are illustrated by this small element. An
algorithm not described here has twelve steps for the Apostles, for instance, and our example, like
Georgian chant structure as I have explicated elsewhere, has Trinitarian significance, with respective
loops, like the three voices, symbolising the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Traditions concerning the origin
of the knot lead to two further essentials: the Cross and the entire dispensation for human salvation,
with a focus on the Theotokos' role. We begin with the latter.

In his third book against heresies, St Irenaeus of Lyon, drawing upon contemporary negative and
positive knot symbolism, especially of the square knot, states that the Mother of God untied Eve's knot
of disobedience while also tying a new knot, one of virginity, healing, and the sweet, freely-chosen bond
of a human will to God. He describes the process as follows: "being disobedient, she [eve]
became for herself and for the whole human race the cause of death; so in
the same way, Mary, having a man betrothed to her, and yet a Virgin, was
obedient and became for herself and for the whole human race the cause of
salvation. And because of this, the one who was betrothed to a man
although she was still a virgin [Eve], the law calls the 'wife' of the one
who had betrothed her, signifying a recirculation from Mary to Eve.
Because what was tied could not be untied in any other way except that the
very same loops of the knot be bent backwards, in such a way that the
first ties could be untied by the second ones, and the second ties would
liberate the first. And so it happens that the first knot is untied by the
second knot and that the second knot has a place by the untying of the
first knot" (Against Heresies 3.22.4).

While we cannot safely surmise according to currently-known historical evidence that the prayer rope
was a part of St Irenaeus' milieu, his argument, which some editors and translators have called obscure
and hard to follow, is clear in theological and cultural terms, as Sr Maria del Fiat Molia explains in a
recent article; on the practical level, it is striking that the Saint's knot techtonics are demonstrated by
the two phases in Orthodox tying methods. The transition between these phases evokes the Cross and
the Resurrection, as D. M. Deed, a commentator on comparative religion, and others have noted. I add
the Ascension as well. St Irenaeus also describes Christ's being made of virgin flesh as recirculating
Adam's creation out of virgin earth, and some refer to one of the two working knot strands as the
"creation strand." Keeping in mind that thread symbolises Christ's flesh, taken from the Virgin, we can
therefore map both creation and the Incarnation onto the first tying phase, especially in the first
formation of three loops, while the transition and the second phase show the carrying out of the entire
divine economy. The transition shows that the Cross is the binding and support of fallen human nature
and of all creation, which is unified and healed in Christ, the New Adam, and that His Resurrection and
Ascension bring about restoration, reconciliation, and the end of death and corruption. At this stage, the
knot can come undone if the loops are not tightly kept cruciform. The second phase recapitulates the
Incarnation, Cross, death, and Resurrection, and the tying method, as we saw, illustrates the Theotokos'
active obedience. Interestingly, there are accounts of the Virgin Mary teaching monks how to tie prayer
ropes, but Angels primarily have this role, with the Cross being central in such traditions.

Like various chants, such as the Trisagion, the knot and its labyrinth-like Orthodox tying methods are
said to have been transmitted by angelic teaching; some say to St Anthony, others to St Pachomios, and
perhaps thus, the two common tying methods. A primary purpose of tying such a knot is to confuse and
impede the devil, as the sign of the Cross is integral to both the algorithm and the final knot; this
function and foundational role of the Cross is also shared with the oft-mentioned labyrinth. There are
nine crosses in the knot, and while this number is symbolic, we will focus on the Cross itself, especially
as a seal. This reading of the knot tells more about its spiritual significance and interestingly relates,
anthropologically and phenomenologically, to the numerical, mathematical, mnemonic, musical, and
linguistic use of knots, which is found worldwide. While such is perhaps most well-known from South
and Central America, there are various Jewish and Greco-Roman sacred and secular practices and
knotted objects that date back at least to the time of our Lord's earthly sojourn. Even if the
configurations that they take may have differed over time, and archaeological finds show only untied
examples of these items as they are not in use, their forms as described below at least developed
alongside the prayer rope and thereby are useful comparisons in any given case, especially from the
perspectives of anthropology, rich exegesis, and theology, time not withstanding.

The most commonly-noted feature of the prayer rope knot is that it forms the sign of the Cross. The
above method encompasses overlapping crosses made from triangular loop formations, with the
configuration perhaps most easily noticeable at various points in phase two. More crosses can be seen
at all phases, for instance, any time the two strands cross each other. The Cross as a mark or seal is a
well-known topic, but alongside it, knots and fringes themselves can have a similar function,
corroborating the readability of the prayer rope and this and other aspects of its role. Knotted cords are
not only ornaments or physical bindings but are used to store, communicate, signify, recall, calculate,
and authenticate various kinds of information. We find secular and sacred examples in Near Eastern and
Jewish contexts. Notable religious knots occur on phylacteries and fringed hems, passed down through
Scripture in conjunction with a similarly theologically mnemonic song, what we now call the second ode
(Deut. 32:1-43). Thus, it is to be kept in mind that strings of sounds and soft solids can both be employed
to aid the remembrance of God and His commandments. The hems and phylacteries are the same two
items about which Christ rebuked the pharisees, for making them ostentatiously large, and perhaps also
for forgetting their true purpose, as St John Chrysostom suggests. He describes their mnemonic function
and states that their wearers did not receive this intended benefit but simply saw these objects as laws,
the keeping of which gave occasion for vainglory (Homilies on Matthew LXXII, 2). There are recent
archaeological finds at least of phylacteries from the first century A.D. , as described by the textile
archaeologist Orit Shamir and others. Fringes and phylacteries also carry great theological significance,
aside from their practical function, and Sanford Seltzer, working in a modern ecumenical framework and
discussing specifics of late Medieval kabbalistic texts, esoteric tendencies, feminist concerns, and a
particular way of understanding Marian devotion in Western Europe, considers that the idea of divine
embodiment is a common thread in these objects and in the Roman Catholic rosary. We will indeed
discuss the Incarnation, including the effects thereof, as it relates to fringes, vestments, and icons not-
made-by-hands, and we will find that there is an even stronger case for relating it to the prayer rope in
its immediate historical, material, ritual, and theological Orthodox context.

Phylacteries are small boxes, containing scrolls with the specific scriptural texts, from the Books of
Exodus (12:2-10; 13:11-21) and Deuteronomy (6:4-9; 11:18-21), about their commandment and
purpose, that is, the binding of the word of God and its sign, using mnemonic and symbolic knots, on
ones left arm, like the prayer-rope, and forehead, in order to teach it and to keep it in mind, heart, and
soul. In current practice, the blessings and verses that are recited upon donning phylacteries refer to the
presence of God and His betrothal of the people to Himself. Another passage, referring to a secular
context on the literal plane but exhibiting great analogical and allegorical force, further highlights such
function and meaning of the phylactery, not only as an aid for remembrance but as a seal and bearer of
presence: "Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death"
(Song. 8:6). It is not only the scrolls in the phylacteries that relate to the word of God, but also the shape
that their straps take through the means of tying and wearing. They form one of the Hebrew names of
God, El-Shadai, and while some letters are already written on the compartments, specific knots form the
others, for instance, daleth is what is commonly called a square knot. Likewise, the mnemonic fringes
(Num. 15:37-41; Deut. 22:11-12), discussed further below, in at least one form, contain knots and
windings that represent the letters of the most notable Name of God, the tetragrammaton. Thus, to put
on phylacteries and fringes is to mark oneself with the seal and name of God. Furthermore, this name is
written in knots, with particular knot and letter correspondences. The prayer rope knot, then, can be
similarly understood as carrying the function of a stamp, seal, or written character. Somewhat
depending on the angle of focus, its loops form crosses, triangles, the letter chi, and even a plant-like
motif, which we will explore below. It can be recognised as a seal of Christ, which is both read,
associated with His name in prayer, and kept upon the heart and arm. While the prayer rope is thus a
seal of the incarnate Word of God, it is, like phylacteries, also bound up with the powerful utterances of
God, including those in Scripture, since it is referred to as "the sword of the Spirit" (cf. Eph. 6:17) in the
service of tonsuring. Like the Cross itself, the prayer rope is therefore both a protective, identifying seal
and a weapon of peace. We now continue with a deeper discussion of Christ's seal as it relates to fringed
hems, especially to His own.

The biblical scholar Ferris J. Stephens describes the significance of ornately fringed, tasseled, or
festooned hems in ancient Near Eastern societies, and events in Scripture gain both their depth and
proper literal sense from this element. Passages of interest, also from a typological and christological
view, include Boaz extending his hem over Ruth, after she takes hold of it but then bids him to spread it
(Ruth. 3:4,9); the Prophet and King David's cutting of King Saul's hem and repenting of this action (1
Sam. 24:3-5); the making of a special hem for the high priest (Ex. 28:33-34, 36:32-34, LXX; Sir. 45:9); the
prophecy that people from all nations will grasp the hem of a Jewish Man because God is with Him
(Zech. 8:23); and the healing of the woman with an issue of blood (Mt. 9:20-22; Mk. 5:25-34; Lk. 8:43-
48). Such hems represented the name, authority, status, legal action, honour, trustworthiness, power,
splendour, and, when relevant, the divinity of those who wore them. They also were associated with
locks of a person's hair, which had a similar function as seals of authentication. To damage or cut off a
hem was to strip or humiliate someone and was required in certain proceedings, such as divorce. Hems
were also used as literal seals, impressed into clay tablets in order to sign legal documents and business
transactions. Furthermore, to seize someone's hem was an act of supplication that prevailed upon the
wearer for his help. From a historical, exegetical, and theological point of view, it is best to begin our
exploration of fringes with the high priest's hem. It is a strikingly ornate example, described among
many in Scripture, related extra-biblical sources, and later archaeological reports, and its description in
the Septuagint is more elaborate and specific that counterparts in the Masoretic text and extra-biblical
sources. It consisted of alternating golden bells and mixed woollen and linen tassels, coupled with
ornate embellishments or fringes of some kind, perhaps made in a knotting or looping technique like
those on an extant royal Elamite garment, dyed with the three most precious colours and resembling or
signifying pomegranate fruits and blossoms. The symbolism of pomegranates will not be discussed here,
but its association with a flowering plant and blue colour relate them to sacred tassels worn by all men
under the law, as described below. These tassels are unique to the high priest's robe, as are mixed wool
and linen textiles (generally forbidden to everyone else under the old law), and as St Basil the Great
explains, the reproof of women's adornment by the Prophet Isaiah is due not only to immodesty but to
the wearing of tassels and colours that are specific to the priestly vestments and the temple textiles (Is.
3:16-24). All these sacred, mixed-fibre cloths represent created matter and the mystery of the
Incarnation, especially the veil for the holy of holies, as described by such Fathers as Sts Cyril of
Alexandria and Gregory of Nyssa, and so do church vestments, according to St Germanos of
Constantinople, for instance. There is an exception to the Jewish sumptuary law on mixed wool and
linen, however, in that the people of Israel were also to wear, as a further symbol besides phylacteries,
particular tassels of white and a precious violet-blue colour, linen and wool respectively. These fringes
are the only such clothing allowed to males other than the high priest and are understood to show that
they nevertheless are keepers of the commandments, thereby connected to the priesthood and to God.
Furthermore, these tassels were knotted cords, which, though their exact configuration may differ today
(there are at least three different forms in contemporary use), had a numerical and memorial function
regarding the recording of God's precepts and, in the coloured thread, remembrance of the glory,
presence, and throne of God Himself. The Hebrew scholar Solomon Gandz demonstrates that, along
with this sacred example, knotted cords of one type or another have been used in Jewish and Roman
society for many purposes, the most striking of which for our topic are the recording of codes of law,
publicans' tax records, receipts to tax payers, and brides' tallies for counting the days until the wedding.
We will reflect on these points later, but at this point, let us place the prayer rope in this same category
of a multi-function knotted cord. First, we continue to explore its affinity with the hem.

We will now expand upon the blue-bedecked tasseled cord as an element in the special hem when
worn by Christ, not simply as a symbolic and mnemonic fringe for all according to the Jewish law. Their
connection not only to the priesthood but to divinity is made clearer by the vision of the holy Prophet
Isaiah, in which the Seraphim chant the aforementioned Trisagion and the Lord's hem fills the temple
with glory Is. 6:1); among other commentaries and hymns, the fourth ode of the canon for the Feast of
the Meeting of the Lord states that this prophetic vision is of the incarnate Christ. Along with Scripture
itself, Jodi Magness' recent work on Jewish practice around the first century gives evidence that Christ
indeed wore sacred fringes for the glory of God, while disapproving of Pharisees' ostentatiously long
variations of the same. To further connect this glory to garments, creation, and the Incarnation, keep in
mind that human nature is to be clothed with this same glory and that Adam and Eve knew that they
were naked because their disobedience stripped them of it, as St Irenaeus (AGainst Heresies 3.23.5) and
others explain. St Irenaeus states that Adam lost this robe of sanctity, given by the Holy Spirit, through
disobedience, equating the aforementioned obedience of the Theotokos not only with new knot-tying
but also with new clothing, which began to be formed when the Spirit overshadowed her. Therefore,
like Christ's human nature in relation to that of fallen humanity, divine or divinely-ordained vestments
have great importance, as opposed to merely human artefacts without divine synergy. They relate to
the Resurrection and the Kingdom and thereby to incorruption and healing even in this life. Various
fourth-tent century interpretations, from such figures as St Epiphanios of Cyprus and St Photios the
Great, of the prophecy of Malachi, on the Sun of Righteousness risen with healing in His wings (4:2)
consider the wings to be Christ's hem, fringes, or tassels. The same Hebrew word is used for "wings" in
this passage and elsewhere and for the border or corners of a garment, including in the commandments
to wear and make fringes. Two practical points of interest about the historical nature of the tassels, of
which there are no incontrovertible archaeological finds, are that the colour of the blue element may
have been very close to black on the spectrum and that this element, while it became a thread within a
tassel, may have initially been a long, strong, plaited or otherwise wrought cord, hanging down to the
hem with a tassel at the bottom, as the Jewish scholar Benjamin Goodnick suggests. Such a blue cord
somewhat resembles a prayer rope. St John Chrysostom's aforementioned discussion also describes a
substantial blue cord or band applied to a garment. Whether Christ wore such a cord or only corner
tassels containing blue threads, all significances described in this paper apply, yet this possible sacred
cord is of interest and, as we will see below, relates to the name of God and the high priest's garments.

In support of patristic exegesis, Crispin Fletcher-Louis, working within so-called historical Jesus
scholarship, writes of Christ's view of Himself as true high priest and of the crowd's view of Him as
spreading "contagious" purity and holiness, especially throUgh His tassels and garments, citing the
prophet Ezekiel on this point (44:19), and even making theosis possible for human beings. As the many
who "besought Him that they might only touch the hem of His garment" (Mt. 14:34-36; Mk. 6:56)
understood, Christ's robe on earth, therefore, was fringed with His power and glory, as He wore fringes
like His contemporaries, while fulfilling them as the true High Priest (cf. Heb. 4:14-16; 7) and God
Incarnate. His garments, cloths that contacted His face, and later, even those touched to His Saints or to
their relics (cf. Act. 19:12) send forth powerful and incorruptible rays, spreading forth like fringes; this
same imagery occurs even on the merely physical level when St Paul says that a woman's hair is her
glory, and it has greater significance in St John the Theologian's description of Christ in the Revelation.
Returning to manufactured tassels, Sts Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Hippolytos, and others refer to baptised
believers as Christ's robe, washed in the "blood of the grape," and even call the Apostles and Saints
fringes. We will soon hear from St Maximos concerning the Sun of Righteousness shining upon such
human beings, continuing the connection with rays of glory, and now we will discuss the literal
garments.

The Lord bears witness to the role of the tassel of His cloak when touched by faith, saying that He
knew that power went forth from Him (Lk. 8:46) when the woman with an issue of blood secretly
touched it, and this particular miracle, the focus for the next few sections of this paper, reverberates
throughout the Church's faith and practice in everything from iconography to canon law. Christ's healing
of the woman's disease; knowledge of her unclean status under the law because of the same, yet
allowing her to touch Him, and even what would have been recognised by all as the most sacred item on
His Body; revealing of all these hidden details and her faith to the crowd; and testimony to His own
power going forth through His garment, all show His love, condescension, and divinity, and the nature of
His response to one who reaches out, in faith, humility, vulnerability, weakness, and corruption, for a
specific, significant means of contact in the midst of the world. Thus, to touch Christ's hem in particular
was culturally and theologically significant at the time, and to such an extent that the action or desire to
do so has given rise to venerations and practices, among which the prayer rope can also be considered.
Let us describe these practices before briefly returning to utilitarian uses of knotted cords and a
theological interpretation of such functions.

At least seven Church Fathers and historians, including St Basil the Great and Eusebios, write that the
woman who was healed of an issue of blood, called Berenike in some sources, made a memorial bronze
statue or image, which was venerated until its destruction by a Roman Emperor, either Maximian,
Maximinus, or Julian the Apostate. Christ's double robe figured prominently on the statue, and a
"strange plant," which pilgrims would take for the curing of all diseases, grew such that it touched the
hem. Little more is said regarding this relic, but more substantial and somewhat parallel traditions are
extant concerning the Lord's seamless inner robe itself. While various relics of one or another of the
tunics that Christ wore during His life have been described in pilgrims' accounts, such as St Gregory of
Tours' description of a relic in Constantinople, a careful comparison of information indicates that,
though most examples are said to be the inner tunic which He had during His Passion, that particular
item, made by the Theotokos, is now buried beneath Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in Georgia. There is not
time for the full account, but the most important details are as follows. The Robe came to Georgia with
the Jewish scholar Elioz, who had witnessed the Crucifixion and acquired the garment from the soldier.
Upon her veneration of the Robe, his sister Sidonia died and, since no one could remove the relic from
her embrace, it was buried with her. As at the site of the aforementioned statue, a miraculous plant
sprang up, a great coniferous tree, which provided healing even after the Robe beneath it had been
forgotten for almost three centuries.

While the destroyed memorial is no longer associated with particular prayer or practice, the site of
the Robe, of the life-giving pillar above it, formed from the wood of the miraculous tree, and related
pillars in Georgia and Jerusalem still stand, along with a notable ritual that has been described in
accounts from the sixth century until today. Various pilgrims, historians, and ethnographers describe the
practice of wrapping threads or woven cords around the column of the scourging in Jerusalem, crosses
in Macedonia, church buildings in Georgia, and towers that symbolize the life-giving pillar in Western
regions of that same country. While various aspects differ, such as the particular intention of this
practice (e.g. in some cases, it may be an offering, in others, seeking a cure for barrenness), the common
elements are a thread or cord and its use as a vehicle for contact with Jesus Christ, at sites that contain
His fringed Garment, Blood, or a miraculous, iconic, or symbolic fringe thereof, usually in the form of a
plant or a pillar. A thread or cord itself is also a prominent symbol in this regard, as we see in patristic
commentaries in all languages, concerning the scapegoat sacrifice, embroidery on vestments, verses of
the Song of Songs, and many other topics. In my previous paper, I described textiles as general media for
the transfer of grace, but in these cases, it is not only that threads and knotted cords act as vehicles but
rather that they are attached to and signify Christ, like the actual hem of His earthly garment. Returning
to the subject of the prayer rope, while it is not linked to a site or relic of our Lord (besides the shape of
the Cross), recall that it contains His seal and often a partly-red tassel, and is attached to His Name.
Other lesser-known cords, such as the Armenian narod, the Ethiopian matab, and Svan black thread
traditions are further instances of symbolic cords that are not site specific but are worn by the temple of
the Holy Spirit, that is, the human body. The prayer rope and all the strings that we have mentioned are
physically, symbolically, in a sense legally, and spiritually attached to Christ's garment, if not to Christ
Himself; they are icons, as we will explore below in light of literary and theological surroundings, or at
least adjunct to icons. Cloths attached to, or wrapped around, icons also have this function, as described
by Mary Margaret Fulghum and Valerie Nunn, and Byzantine epigrams concerning some examples
specifically tie them to the miracle of Christ's hem, no matter which gender or malady is referred to in
these later miraculous instances. A final related item of note in this regard is the cloth image of Edessa,
called "sindon" or "mandylion" in different primary sources, and related icons Not-Made-By-Hands,
which have an important place in Georgian encaustics, frescoes, and manuscripts, often including
polysemic, seal-like roundels with crosses, or written characters. The latter are clearly seals of Christ and
are explained in the sources as dogmatic, mnemonic devices concerning His Passion, humanity, and
divinity. Both kinds of seals are attached to the cloth or, where relevant, to the accompanying epistle.
Such icons also often show a cloth with tassels and floral ornaments, which have a similar significance to
those on Christ's Robe. In Georgian churches, the Mandylion is depicted above the altar, reflecting the
recorded Syriac practice of placing the image there for a special service of supplication and prayer for
forgiveness, closely linking this image with liturgical space and petitions for mercy. Finally, the
aforementioned column of the scourging has been reported in some sources to contain a miraculous
imprint of Christ's form. Before we continue the subject of iconography, this section on veneration
practices concludes with further remarks on prayer.

Prayer and veneration outside particular places and liturgical circumstances, whether with or without
the aid of sacred objects, is given as a direct analogy to touching Christ's hem. Such is most notable in
canons that do not allow women to enter churches or to receive the Mysteries during their customary
sickness (cf. St Dionysios of Alexandria, Canonical Epistle to Basilides, Canon II), though this same
miracle is also cited in other local canons that permit the same (cf. Didascalia 26.62.5; St Gregory the
Dialogist, Epistles, 11.64). To tighten this link between prayer and Christ's hem, St Makarios the Great
devotes an entire homily to allegorical exegesis of this act, in terms of Christ's healing fallen humankind,
including providing the cure for what one might call our "issue of thoughts," throughout all aspects of
the spiritual life. The Jesus prayer has its place within this understanding of prayer, as do chant, stillness,
and reading, methods that we will refer to again.
 Returning to prayer in conjunction with material objects besides human bodies, the healing miracle of
the fringes relates not only to the practices that we have discussed, of threads and cloths attached to
relics and icons, but also provided an important part of the beginnings of Christian iconography itself,
along with understandings of salvation and sacraments. The Medieval art historian Barbara Baert,
commenting on third-fourth century depictions of the miracle, many in funerary contexts, in conjunction
with interpretations of the aforementioned prophecy of Zechariah, notes that touching the hem, an act
of pleading in faith and humility (9), is to go through an eschatological portal, to be embraced by God,
the coming of Christ, and His Kingdom, as happens through the Sacraments and death (12-13). Along
with sacred sites associated with the Robe, these many icons concerned stand despite the destruction of
the previously-described memorial, which was nevertheless referred to in support of icons, for instance,
by St John of Damascus. Baert considers this oft-depicted miracle and its relationship to textiles to have
a key role in the development of, and debate surrounding, the place of images (6, 21-23), as the
Mandylion and other cloths also demonstrate; these even relate to His robe in a direct, theological way,
as we will see. As with Christ's various garments, the traditions of King Abgar's cloth and that of
Berenike, who made a memorial textile according to at least one Middle Byzantine source, along with
her bronze one, on which the Lord's face appeared in His absence, are separate but similar icons with
their own stories. In common, they relate to proximity to Christ and/or His decision to make Himself
present, to the remembrance thereof, and to the imprinting of His image or seal. likewise, these same
aspects relate to iconic textiles made by hands, especially to cords and threads. I suggest that, besides
representing His fringe, thread in the proper context, including the monastic schema, as the
aforementioned St Germanos writes, and the prayer rope, is an icon, not only a mnemonic symbol, of
Christ's Blood and is to be treated as such. The existence of such an icon refutes, on the practical level,
iconoclastic misunderstandings of the Eucharist as an icon, which are described by Charles Barber, for
example.

Instead of quoting commentaries to this effect, we will briefly summarise lesser-known but important
aspects of the context from which iconic significance and function of thread arises (for instance, Rahab's
thread, the blood on the doors at Passover, and the Theotokos' thread are not uncommon symbols).
Iconic threads share characteristics on various levels with the miraculous plants and images connected
to Christ and His robe. While Baert suggests rather different historical, psychological, and sometimes
culturally distant explanations for the latter, the semiotic context of Orthodox theology and practice
shows that it is the actual fringes that Christ wore, His Flesh and Blood, assumed at the Annunciation
(recall the torn temple veil), His divine energy, and kenosis, especially stemming from the Incarnation
and the Cross, that are the source of both phenomena and of contingent iconography of all forms.
Plants relate to the fringes in that the Hebrew word for these in the Book of Numbers comes from an
Akkadian word for a thread or floral ornament on clothing, not unlike "pomegranate" for the high
priest's tassels, adding this natural association, likewise based on shape, colour, and attachment, to that
of rays of light and flowing hair; in other words, sacred tassels are biomorphic, to use the modern
artistic term, that is, evoking a natural object, with all these symbols and attributes. Given the particular
name of the tassels, let alone references to the tree of life and the Cross, the plant symbolism comes
out in relief; Christ is often described as a flower or a fruit (e.g. the ordinary troparia after the psalms in
the first and third hours; cf. Is. 11:1). The same word also relates to the terms in many relevant
instances, such as the blossoming of Aaron's rod and, as Fletcher-Louis again notes, to the name of the
golden ornament worn on the high Priest's forehead, which also contained a blue cord and the name of
God, and had a sanctifying function. Floral ornaments and tassels occur on images of Christ's Robe and
the Mandylion, the early Medieval fringed sanctuary curtains at the Holy Sepulchre were two-paneled
and knotted at the centre (with what sort of knot, one wonders), and another name for the prayer rope
knot type is "flower knot," not limiting the sacred biomorphic fringe to the somewhat optional tassel at
the bottom. One could also liken the compact knot to a seed, bud, or small fruit. More specifically, it
may be described as "pomegranate-shaped," having petal-like loops like a pomegranate flower, or even
containing almost as many faces, that is, ten, as a pomegranate seed, which is a dodecahedron. Sources
about the high priest's robe describe the "pomegranaTes" as relating either to the fruit or the flower,
and recall that the Septuagint refers to both. The connection is initially more general and even linguistic,
however, relating Hebrew and Septuagint terms for "knot" and the various pomegranates in textiles and
architecture, as noted in discussions of the Byzantine knotted column and an extant tasseled sakkos.
Scholars disagree concerning the specified knot; thus, we take the liberty to apply the pomegranate
designation to the prayer rope knot. All these floral and vestural uses and associations include typology
of the Body of Christ and the Cross, as well as His priesthood and the power of His Name, as these relate
to both Old and New Covenant vestments. The biblical, mishnaic, and talmudic scholar Wojciech Kosior
demonstrates the connection between the lay fringes, phylacteries, and the priestly ornament, and we
can make a phenomenological, theological, and somewhat historical link between Christ's tassels, the
cross-adorned, fringed epitrachelion, which symbolises the flesh of Christ in liturgical commentaries, the
prayer rope, miraculous icons, and sacred plants, amongst such ties as those between the psalms and
later hymnography; temple and church services; and the temple veil with many developments, such as
the iconostasis, Georgian church facades and pre-altar crosses, eucharistic cloths, and epitaphioi, with
the Lord's flesh, raiment, shroud, and imprint. Several scholars, as summarised by Irma Karaulashvili,
have described the Mandylion, eucharistic cloths, and the temple veil in this theological and liturgical
context, yet the Robe, the prayer rope, and the fringe (noted as a part of the textile but not specifically
linked with those worn by Christ and the Old Testament high priest) have not been previously included.
These connections give important significance to the prayer rope as a holy object, not simply a practical
tool. The chain of theological meaning, of blossoming and development in nature, art, ordinance,
sacrament, miracle, and even aesthetics and general human experience through the senses, connects
Christ's tasseled hem with offshoots that at first seem merely related due to physical proximity to relics.
Rather, the miraculous, kenotic descent of Christ into the Virgin's body is reflected by the extension of
power and grace to His clothes (not only to His hem but to all His garments at the Transfiguration), the
imprinting of His image on cloth, at the greatest extreme of condescension, to the voluntary Passion and
death, and down to the smallest details of life in Christ, touched by His divine presence and energies. In
such instances, the difference between icon and symbol, while of consequence in other contexts, is of
less import. We could coin a theological art historical term, therefore, for various aspects of
iconography, architecture, and music, especially non-figural or more abstract forms, like Trinitarian,
cruciform, cyclical, floral, and light-like (including star and ray) patterns in sound and thread, as
"theomorphic," that is, calling to mind the Trinity, Christ, and/or uncreated grace. Georgian chant,
symbols, knots, and tassels on vestments and reliefs, and the prayer rope knot are important cases, as is
the whirling or luminous disc depicted in late Medieval icons, according to several art historians. The Old
Testament fringes had a similar role. Such sounds, symbols, and sartorial objects are characterised by
poikilia, which I have previously discussed and which is also the technical term for the work of the
temple veil in some accounts, can give space for grace, like cloth providing a surface for Christ's
miraculously imprinted image.
 There are many variegated, sacred veils of God's loving-kindness, according to St Dionysios the
Areopagite (Divine Names [?]). Any materials and senses can be involved, and relating again to a flower,
St Ephraim the Syrian teaches that, in describing a fragrance filling the house when the sinful woman
and St Mary of Bethany anointed the Lord with myrrh, the Evangelists were indicating the the very
fragrance of Christ was sent forth with that of the ointment; the passages in question are not unlike the
understated descriptions of Christ's transfigured white raiment. Priestly ointment and fringes also occur
clearly and together in Scripture, as in the psalms of ascent, in the description of myrrh flowing from
Aaron's head down to his hem, and in Exodus, where it is specified that the anointing oil spreads
holiness to the priestly garments (30:29), thereby enabling them to communicate it 6o the people.
Christ transfigures His garments and the fragrant oil poured on Him, causing them to shed His glory. In
an eschatological way, such wondrous, divine manifestation, through various means and upon all
faculties and perceptions, bypasses everyday human emotions, associations, preferences, and usual or
prior experiences, occupying the senses, intellect, heart, and all the soul's powers. The theomorphic can
become theophanic if God so wills. Mandylion images with seals are sometimes interpreted as alluding
to the Second Coming, the appearance of Christ, and preparation of His throne. This way of
understanding the experience of, and attitude of focus towards, cloth, shape, and sound is important to
later reflections on church music.

On the other side of synergy, the desire to venerate, commemorate, and co-operate with Christ and
His work is the primary factor in the human creation of all sacred art, including initially non-miraculous
textile artefacts. Another tradition in this regard is that King Abgar's sister made a seamless tunic for
Christ during His lifetime, in response to receipt of the icon (Chronicle of Michael the Syrian, 56), and the
story of St Tabitha also indicates the importance of making textiles of one sort or another for Christ and
His Church (Act. 9:36-42). Whether or not any given relic is genuine, the desire to find a means to touch
Christ's hem or to see His face remains and can relate to most sacred textiles in some way; for some, it
renders them icons, not only backgrounds for images. Given all the aforesaid points about prayer,
threads, relics, and icons, grasping a prayer rope and calling upon the Lord's Name can be understood as
akin to venerating His garment or an icon thereof; His human Name, differing by sound and shape
according to language, has also been described in iconic terms (Elder Sophrony, His Life is Mine,
[page?]). Perhaps more than other methods of prayer, this specific cord for aiding recitation of the Jesus
prayer is on all levels akin to touching Christ's hem, which was a similar, if not prototypical, textile
object. We may therefore make and keep icons of His fringes, just as there are Georgian images of His
Robe. A space is made for literal threads to take this role since most depictions of Christ, with the
significant exception of the image of Edessa, do not show the tassels on the hem, following Greco-
Roman practice, yet Baert notes that the Near Eastern and Jewish significance of hems also occurred in
Hellenistic culture. A missing relic or type of depiction is not a loss but an opportunity for greater
synergy, including the work of Christ Himself through icons not-made-by-hands. One final note in this
discussion of the theological and synergetic origins of iconography is that it applies to the matter and
forms of music no less than to other created objects. Yet again, thread makes the same clear, as
commentaries on "Thy lips are a thread of scarlet" (Song. 3:6) tell us, referring to everything from verbal
confession of faith to making the sign of the Cross. Keep in mind that the prayer rope is a thread in a
complex form of this sign.

We now take up the discussion of the prayer rope, not as a seal, cross, and icon, but under the aspect
of its recorded practical development as an aid for counting and focusing upon prayers; recall that the
angelic knot is intended to impede the devil from untying it. Such a cord is a notebook, to use Gandz's
term, that is, a material aid for the processes of remembering, recording, calculating, and counting. Such
gives us further data, pointing towards further interpretation, primarily based on Scriptural and literary,
rather than the ritual and iconographic, side of its theological and anthropological context. The earlier
list of utilitarian knotted cords all connect to particular parables of our Lord and are relevant to the
practice of the Jesus prayer, which this cord is intended to facilitate. This prayer expresses many things,
one of which is the repentance and supplication of a sinner, as illustrated in the parable of the publican
and the pharisee (Lk. 18:9-14). One who prays is to be in the humble place of the publican and even
holds a knotted cord, a record of his own sins toward God, however, rather than of taxes owed to
himself. On the other hand, the very One to Whom the prayer is addressed wiped out that record by the
Cross, and thus, the prayer rope is also the receipt of payment, marked with the seal of Him Who paid it,
and indication that the Cross and His Blood provided the ransom. Rather than related to some kind of
substitutionary idea, the sense of debt here guards against despair, frees one for repentance and virtue,
and connects to another oft-repeated prayer and its "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors"
(Mt. 6:12; cf. Lk. 11:4). It aids the disposition of the one who prays, reminding him that Christ has also
wiped out the sins of others, thereby not only requiring one's forgiveness of His neighbour but also
guiding and recording the same. As St John Klimakos says, though we cannot presume that he had a
knot record, receipt, or prayer rope to aid his metaphor as well as a woven textile, "When you are going
to stand before the Lord, let the garment of your soul be woven throughout with the thread that has
become oblivious of wrongs. Otherwise, prayer will bring you no benefit" (Ladder of Divine Ascent,
28:4). Our final comparative cord is a bride's knot tally, referred to by the holy Prophet Jeremiah, though
most translations say "attire," employing the same term as that used for publicans' knotted strings (Jer.
2:32); in this verse, the Prophet contrasts the bride's mnemonic cord with Israel's forgetfulness of God
for "days without number," making way for a similar cord to restore remembrance. While the above-
mentioned fringes had such a role, the prayer rope also does, and is more congruent with a tally rather
than a short, knotted tassel. The Lord's parables about Himself as the bridegroom, most notably that of
the ten virgins (Mt. 25:1-13), emphasise that the day of His Second Coming is, however, not known (cf.
Mt. 24:42). Usually brides' calendars were straight cords, and knots could be taken out as time
progressed; yet, the prayer rope has knots in numbers that have unrelated significances and a utilitarian
counting function for prayers, and it is a closed loop, with all knots staying in place. Therefore, it can be
seen as a cyclical loop tally with which we continuously watch and pray, as we cannot know the day and
hour, and its counters are marked by the sign of the Son of man, which will be visible to all as an
announcement of His return (Mt. 24:30). It is also the seal that prepares the cloths and thrones of our
hearts, as St Theoleptos of Philadelphia, Elder Aimilianos, and other Fathers across time and space have
taught.

We finally return to the primary subject of chant; while we previously mapped its Georgian musical
structure onto the prayer rope knot and its construction process, we will now see what the knot can
teach us about the nature of musical traditions in general. Recall that the knot is, among other things, a
seal. A seal and its impression are types, and so are psalms and prayers. In his chapters on love, shortly
after a reference to invoking the Lord Jesus, St Maximos the Confessor describes how one beats back
thoughts by psalmody, prayer, uplifting of the mind, or another suitable occupation, all of which
methods are given as examples or types. As Elder Aimilianos explains in his commentary on this chapter,
a type is "the outcome or result of the act of striking out a form or shape, and in particular the result of
what has been formed and shaped in a struggle with one’s adversaries. We speak, for example, of the
“types” of the nails on the Lord’s body, words which refer to the marks made by the nails, the wounds
imprinted on His body from the striking force of the nails. The sound of my feet walking on a marble
floor is also a kind of “type” that is marked out, an acoustic form produced by the striking of my feet. A
sketch or a drawing is also a “type.” Letters, too, such as those punched out by a typewriter, are also
“types,, which is why we have words like “typography”. A bas-relief or a carving is also a “type” that has
been produced through similar activity on a stone or wood. A seal, and the mark or image left by the
seal, are also “types.” Thus a “type” is the means or agent that produces a result through a process of
striking or imprinting on or against something else, having direct and immediate contact with it, which
serves as the physical medium for the result or outcome. Since, then, a “type” is the outcome of the
activity of marking or striking, we can say that the experience of our life is essentially a “type,” by which
I mean it is the result of all the marks and blows and all the factors and influences that have shaped our
lives" (The Mystical Marriage, 78-79).

Types are not only relief forms that are struck out or molded from stone, clay, wax, and the like, but
are also formed in the air, by, and also on, our bodies and souls as we sing and listen; we have seen
above that types can even be built up by gently striking and manipulating thread. In the case of a seal,
both it and what it strikes are types, and such applies to the types listed by St Maximos, and to the
persons and beings that are marked by the same. While the Elder focuses on the type that a person
becomes under the "marks and blows" of suffering, he later refers to the armour that is necessary in this
process, which includes the methods of prayer discussed in this paper, the types for beating back
thoughts. Furthermore, chant and iconography of all kinds are among the "influences and factors" that
strike us. As St Maximos says in another work, the chapters on knowledge, "God is the sun of justice, as
it is written, who shines rays of goodness on simply everyone. The soul develops according to its free
will into either wax because of its love for God or into mud because of its love of matter. Thus just as by
nature the mud is dried out by the sun and the wax is automatically softened, so also every soul which
loves matter and the world and has fixed its mind far from God is hardened as mud according to its free
will and by itself advances to its perdition, as did Pharaoh. However, every soul which loves God is
softened as wax, and receiving divine impressions and characters it be comes "the dwelling place of God
in the Spirit. The one who has illumined his mind with divine thoughts, who has accustomed his reason
to honor ceaselessly the Creator with divine hymns, and who has sanctified his sense with
uncontaminated images has added to the natural beauty of the image the voluntary good of likeness"
(Chapters on Knowledge, 1:12-13). Thus, those who chant, listen, and call upon the Lord while following
His uncontaminated, inviolable seal with their eyes and/or fingers, provided that they have the right
disposition and intention, receive the Lord's type in all their being, physically, psychologically, and
spiritually taking its imprint, like warm, soft, fragrant beeswax under a signet, or even pliable threads,
which are sometimes also conditioned with beeswax, in someone's hands. Such persons place the seal
of the Name of Jesus Christ, or recognise that it already marks, everyone and everything around them,
as Fr Lev Gillet writes. Even when dispositions and situations may be difficult, prayer can still mark out
the seal, like a chisel, knife, or fire on stone, wood, or metal. This work of God's grace is helpful to
consider when dealing with questions of aesthetic preferences and difficulties in chant performance,
and one can at least beat back negative thoughts, working to make himself like wax for God's seal,
keeping in mind His image despite any discord. Concerning these same aspects, the knot and its
mathematical properties can also lend useful mystagogy.
 As we saw with the prayer rope knot and its structure existing elsewhere, under different names,
functions, and algorithms, several knots share the same final structure, and various knots with differing
surfaces can also have the same ends, going in the same directions. This same phenomenon of isotopy
can be applied to musical structures and especially to prayer, its intentions, and its end. There was not
the space to show a map of the knot according to Byzantine chant with ison, but this and all traditions
and styles can fit into isotopic cross-domain mapping in one way or another with the knot structure
and/or tying methods, and certainly all methods of prayer are theologically isotopic. In his counsels, St
Mark the Monk states that There are many ways to pray, and some are more profitable than others. At
the same time, there is not a single harmful method of prayer; otherwise it would not be prayer but the
work of Satan" (On the Spiritual Law 19). Not only do we find room here for all the senses, language,
style, technique, and so forth, but also for poorly-executed chant. Furthermore, we are implicitly
advised not to judge another's work as that of Satan and instructed to keep our own labours free from
the enemy's many other attempts of encroachment. Concerning superficially unsatisfactory
hymnography or singing, keeping the seal in mind, we note that a scratched signature is still valid,
provided that the signer is of a good conscience. Our neighbours, the saints, the Angels, and God can
read it. Neither is it badly signed in the end, however; even a lop-sided knot is stable and can be
carefully adjusted with a needle, or the Theotokos will help us simultaneously to untie and tie anew. As
we follow in her train as fellow handmaids and servants, grace co-operates to renew, repair, and tie
itself to the weaknesses of human nature on earth, uprooting and reordering the passions, and aiding
the soul and body. Such applies to physical and psychological aspects in cases of practice, knowledge,
and preference, but also wipes out the effects and record of prejudice, vainglory, negligence, and other
sins. Thus, as we are to forgive wrongs in order to pray, we are to be forgiving as we listen and
conscientious as we sing and read. We are also to trust God's work. In knot theory as it applies to
physics and rays of light, closed knots that share the same ends but have differing structures can be
modified and tied anew while in place, and this phenomenon somewhat illustrates God's work with our
attempts at prayer and with the energies in our minds and hearts. Lastly, an ethnomusicological term,
employed by Tia Denora, for the conscious engagement of music with one's mind and body, with the
intention of participating, following, and gathering something from it, is "latching." Though this term
initially relies on the image of an infant attached to its mother, let us apply it to the humble holding of
our Lord's hem in faith and humility, whatever sound we may be hearing or producing. This includes the
use of a prayer rope, and as variously-spaced knots have been used to help students to latch onto
musical timing and tempo while singing, the closely spaced loop of knots can signal continuous,
energised, regular prayer.

There was not time to thread the prayer rope through more than one musical example, nor to give a
mystagogy of all details of the knot itself--more could be said, for instance, on materials, colour, and
numbers, especially alternating two and three--but we have included facets that have great depth; the
dogmatic symbols in the numbers and other aspects provide the foundation, however, as right faith
does for a good understanding of the Jesus prayer itself. This prayer and the related methods found in
hymnography, along with cultural and Scriptural artefacts, practices, passages, and events, unfold and
almost give an ekphrasis of a simple loop of strange knots that reaches Christ's hem. Regarding its origin
and value, St Elder Paisios says, "The prayer rope is an inheritance, a blessing, which was left to us by the
Holy Fathers. And for this alone, it has great worth. You see, when someone's grandfather leaves him a
meaningless object as an inheritance, he keeps it like a talisman, how much more should we keep the
prayer rope as an inheritance of the Holy Fathers!" This inheritance is far from meaningless, as the Elder
goes on to explain. We have uncovered a fraction of the significance, and many other allegorical and
symbolic meanings remain, even concerning what we have described. For instance, we did not explain
the seal as it relates to the ring in the parable of the prodigal son, or to Baptism and Chrismation; or
tightly bind the hem as it relates to the Eucharist, to the Theotokos' thread and the temple veil, to the
Cross as it relates to techniques for making seamless garments, or to ecclesiology and missiology;
neither have we discussed other utilitarian functions of rope and knots, such as energising mechanisms,
slings or scourges against evil, sword and seal hangers, medical applications, measuring devices, fishing
nets, and candle and lamp wicks; nor have we explained Hebrew semantics relating to the fringes, light,
holiness, and psalmody, or provided the descriptions of prayer and rays of uncreated light in terms of
cords and ropes, given by the Areopagite and St Symeon the New Theologian; nor have we fully
described knots, tassels, and ornaments in Coptic, Byzantine, and Georgian iconography, architecture,
veneration, and, especially in Egypt, relevant pre-Christian culture. To plumb the depths in any direction
brings greater understanding and appreciation.

This paper has followed the shape and direction of the knot, its repetition around a looped cord, the
expressive uses of a knotted cord on its own or as sacred part of a garment, and its characteristics as
they are reflected in, and mapped onto, a polyphonic chant style that accompanies it as a related method
of prayer. There is much still to be said regarding the sign of the Cross, and the effect of Christ's Passion
and all His work, in the Sacraments and in everyday life, as it relates to sound and thread, but St Irenaeus
of Lyons again summarises it well: "Now seeing that He is the Word of God Almighty,
who in unseen wise in our midst is universally extended in all the world,
and encompasses its length and breadth and height and depth--for by the
Word of God the whole universe is ordered and disposed--in it is crucified
the Son of God, inscribed crosswise upon it all: for it is right that He
being made visible, should set upon all things visible the sharing of His
cross, that He might show His operation on visible things through a
visible form. For He it is who illuminates the height, that is the
heavens; and encompasses the deep which is beneath the earth; and
stretches and spreads out the length from east to west; and steers across
the breadth of north and south; summoning all that are scattered in every
quarter to the knowledge of the Father" (Demonstration of the Apostolic Preaching, 34);
furthermore, He describes the Trinity as a three-pointed seal (100), and we can find this seal in Georgian
polyphony and its reflections in the knot. We see, therefore, that in tying, handling, viewing, chanting,
listening; in repeating words, notes, gestures, and knots; in fashioning and interacting with chords and
cords; in unceasingly tracing and imprinting the divine seal; we lovingly co-operate by the good will of
the Father, with the power of the Incarnate Son, and in the Holy Spirit, to bind ourselves to the Trinity
and, through Him, to everyone and everything that He has made and marked for His Kingdom. Finally,
anything that we do, make, or utter may become a means for God's miraculous manifestation to our
neighbour, and we must not forget that we are made in God's image, striving to act and perceive
accordingly.