An Anchor, Two Fish, and the Hope They Carried

A silver ring turned up in the remains of Roman Binchester in northern England. Its red stone carried an anchor with two fish.

An empire has left us walls, roads, and monuments large enough to walk through. This object asks us to look at something a person could wear on one finger. The owner has vanished from the record. The image remains. 1

For a Christian, that image has a familiar pull. An anchor brings us to the hope described in Hebrews; fish recall an ancient confession of Christ. Together they let us glimpse how faith could find its way into the small objects of ordinary life.

What came out of the ground

The ring was discovered in 2014 at Binchester, a Roman fort and settlement near present-day Bishop Auckland in County Durham. The Auckland Project identifies it as silver with a red carnelian gemstone, engraved with an anchor and two fish. Its form and stone suggest a third-century date. That is a stylistic assessment; the maker did not carve a year into it. 12

David Petts, one of the archaeologists working at the site, recognized the motif’s strong Christian associations. The museum interprets it within the story of early Christianity in Roman Britain. The owner’s name and circumstances remain unknown, so the Christian interpretation rests on the imagery and its ancient parallels. 12

That leaves us with a small, personal object at the northern edge of the Roman world, bearing an image Christians elsewhere would have understood. We can follow those connections a surprisingly long way.

A reminder at hand

The engraved stone is an intaglio: its design is cut into the surface. Such stones could be used as signets, making an impression in soft sealing material. An image chosen for a ring could therefore accompany the business of daily life.

Around the turn of the third century, Clement of Alexandria had advice for Christians choosing seal designs. In Book III of The Instructor, he recommends images including a dove, fish, ship, lyre, and anchor. He also connects fishing imagery with the apostles and those drawn from the water. 3

His setting is wonderfully practical. Clement is discussing conduct, dress, and the use of possessions. Even the image on a signet belongs to the question of how a Christian should live. He favors restraint over display, with a useful object that can also turn the mind toward faith.

Clement was writing in Egypt, a long way from Binchester. He gives us a written witness to the Christian use of these images, rather than an explanation left by this particular ring’s owner.

The connection is enough to be interesting. A Christian teacher in Alexandria recommended an anchor or a fish; in Roman Britain, someone wore a ring engraved with both.

A confession in the fish

The Greek word for fish, ichthys (ἰχθύς), became an acrostic for “Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior.” A small image could call that confession to mind. 1

Its associations also reached into baptism. Tertullian, writing around the same broad period as Clement, opens On Baptism with the image of Christians as little fish, whose life in the water is bound to Christ. 4

There is affection in the image. The Christian belongs to the Savior and receives life from him. Something as simple as a fish could recall both a confession of who Christ is and the water of baptism.

That does not assign every ancient fish an identical meaning. It shows why the image could carry so much for a believer who knew the Scriptures and the Church’s teaching. The symbol had a life beyond decoration.

An anchor that reaches into heaven

Hebrews 6:19 gives the anchor its clearest scriptural connection. The passage describes hope as an anchor for the soul, secure and steadfast. 5

Read the surrounding verses and the reason for that security becomes clear. The writer recalls God’s promise to Abraham and the certainty of God’s word. Christian hope rests on the faithfulness of the One who has promised.

Then the metaphor does something unexpected. An ordinary anchor reaches down through the water. The hope in Hebrews reaches into the sanctuary beyond the veil, where Jesus has entered on our behalf.

The anchor holds because of where it is fixed. Our hope is secure in Christ, who has gone before us into God’s presence.

That is a strong word for a person in difficulty. It gives us something firmer than a prediction that circumstances will improve next week. Trouble may continue. Grief can be long. The promise of God remains trustworthy, and Jesus remains the ground of our confidence.

The sea can still move while the anchor holds.

Enough history without an invented owner

The ring invites curiosity. Who chose the design? Was it a gift? What did its owner think when looking down at the stone?

The excavation cannot answer those questions. The motif has also inspired stories about secret recognition among Christians, but this object’s surviving evidence does not establish that it served as a secret signal.

We can let the owner remain unknown and still appreciate the find. The ring belongs to a world in which Christian faith was taking root across long distances. Clement and Tertullian help us hear the language its images could speak. Hebrews takes us to the promise behind the anchor.

Each source contributes something of its own. Together they give us a fuller view of the Christian imagination in the Roman world.

From the stone to Anchored in Hope

Anchored in Hope began with the idea of an engraved seal: a central anchor framed by two fish. We enlarged the motif for the back of the garment and gave it a quieter place on the front.

The oval frame, lettering, proportions, and weathered print are our contemporary choices. The design draws on the ring and its wider Christian associations rather than copying the artifact’s surface exactly.

What we wanted to carry forward was the invitation to remember. An everyday object can turn the mind toward Christ. The wearer of the Binchester ring is beyond our reach, but the confession associated with the fish and the hope described in Hebrews are still part of the Church’s life.

The anchor points beyond itself, to the Savior in whom our hope is fixed.

Sources and further reading

1. The Auckland Project, Binchester: Treasures in the Rubbish. Museum interpretation of the ring, its material, imagery, and display at the Faith Museum.
2. David Petts, Binchester 2014: Early Christianity at Roman Binchester, 14 July 2014. Excavator’s account of the discovery and suggested third-century date.
3. Clement of Alexandria, The Instructor, III.11, “Finger-rings”. Christian advice on seals and their imagery.
4. Tertullian, On Baptism, chapter 1. Christ, Christians, fish, and baptism.
5. Hebrews 6:13–20, World English Bible. God’s promise and hope as the soul’s anchor.

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