After Excavation

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You’re an archaeologist. You’ve carefully excavated a site and written an exemplary final report. Your obligation to history has been met.

But what about the site? What happens after you leave? The answer seems obvious: It should be preserved.

Of course, when it comes to Israel, the government takes care of its big tourist sites—like Megiddo and Beth-Shean. But what about the orphans, the lesser-known sites?

In 1979, the Biblical Archaeology Society decided to do something about the neglect of archaeological sites by establishing the Archaeological Preservation Fund. Our intentions were good: to restore past archaeological sites, making them clean, attractive and accessible to visitors—042and thus do our bit to preserve the heritage of Biblical archaeology for future generations (and in the process perhaps set an example).

Were we naive? Did we make a mistake? Was it wasted money?

When I traveled to Israel recently, I visited the first site to benefit from our good intentions 23 years ago—a then recently excavated site in central Israel called Izbet Sartah. I was in for a disappointment.

We had deemed Izbet Sartah to be an especially appropriate one because it has both archaeological and Biblical importance: It’s probably Biblical Ebenezer, where the Israelites encamped for a crucial battle with the Philistines that led to the establishment of the Israelite monarchy (1 Samuel 4:1). It lies on the border between the Israelite hill country and the coastal plain occupied by the Philistines. It sits on a spur overlooking the plain; less than 2 miles below lies Aphek—today Tel Aphek—where, the Bible tells us, the Philistines mustered for battle.

The battle occurred in the wake of sporadic conflicts between the Israelites and the Philistines. At the battle of Ebenezer, the Israelites seem repeatedly to have made a fatal tactical error: They met the Philistines on the plain below, where the Philistines could maneuver with their chariots—which the Israelites did not have. In the initial encounter, the Bible says, the Israelites lost 4,000 men and returned to their camp. After this defeat, the Israelite elders decided to bring the Ark of the Covenant from Shiloh (a mere 10 miles or so down the road to the east) to lead them in battle. Apparently the Israelites again fought on the plain instead of waiting for the Philistines in the hill country, where their chariots would have been relatively useless. According to the Bible, after this battle—which claimed 30,000 Israelites—the Israelites fled to their tents. This time the Israelites were not simply defeated: The holy Ark was captured (1 Samuel 4:11).

The Israelites’ loose tribal confederation was not capable of protecting against Philistine encroachment. They needed a centralized government. During the period of the Judges, “Everyone [had done] what was right in their own eyes” (Judges 21:25). But the Philistine victory at Ebenezer demonstrated this was no longer 043a viable alternative: Israel needed an earthly king. So Samuel anointed its first king—a Benjaminite, Saul.

No plaque has been found on the path to Izbet Sartah reading “Entering Ebenezer,” but it is the best candidate we have. Indeed, as Moshe Kochavi and Aaron Demsky wrote in BAR nearly a quarter century ago, “We have no alternative candidate with anything like this support.”^a

What is this support? We have already referred to the geographical evidence. But there is more—four seasons of excavations (between 1976 and 1978) directed by Kochavi (then chairman of Tel Aviv University’s Institute of Archaeology), with Israel Finkelstein (the current director of the institute) as field director. They identified three strata at the site, the earliest of which dates to the period of the Judges (late 13th or early 12th century B.C.). Among the finds at this level were three collared-rim jars, often considered a hallmark of Israelite settlements. This settlement was abandoned, which is why only a few vessels were found at this level; the inhabitants took most of their possessions with them and then simply closed shop. Finkelstein explains that “the site was abandoned because of heightened tension between the Israelites and the Philistines at the beginning of the 11th century B.C.—the same tension that soon broke out in the battle at Ebenezer.”¹

At the end of the 11th century, however, the Israelites came back. They were already beginning to expand westward from the hill country. This time they built a beautiful four-room house in the center of the site, another hallmark of an Israelite settlement.^b

The four-room house at Izbet Sartah is particularly impressive. It is a large, powerful structure—more than 50 feet long and nearly 40 feet wide, with outer walls 4.5 feet thick. The structure was preserved to a height of two or three courses of stones. The rest of the structure was probably robbed and re-used in antiquity. The three long rooms were separated from one another by columns; many of the drums from which they were fashioned have survived.

Surrounding the house, distributed haphazardly, were 43 storage silos dug shallowly into the ground and lined with stones.

This second Israelite settlement, too, was soon abandoned under Philistine military pressure.

A few decades later (at the beginning of the tenth century B.C.), the site was once again occupied. Finkelstein continues, “The renewed occupation of the site may be attributable to a resumption of Israelite expansion to the west under David. After a short time, however, when the fertile plain of the Yarkon Basin opened up to Israelite settlement, Izbet Sartah was abandoned and never resettled.”

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Izbet Sartah is also famous for a unique find—the earliest Israelite inscription. The Izbet Sartah ostracon (an inscribed potsherd) is what scholars call an abecedary, a series of letters arranged in alphabetical order. This ostracon contains five lines incised on a piece of pottery with more than 80 letters, including several repetitions. The bottom line is, with minor deviations, the Hebrew alphabet consisting of 22 letters. It is written from left to right, however, like the English alphabet; it comes from a time before the right-to-left direction of Hebrew writing was fixed. The ostracon is obviously a student’s exercise tablet.^c

The ostracon is enormously important not only for our understanding of the development of alphabetic writing but also because of what it tells us about Israelite society at this early date. Here in this small village—a mere acre in size—Israelites were already studying writing.

The fact that Izbet Sartah was inhabited for only a short period made the site an ideal candidate for restoration. It had no complicated stratigraphy with walls over walls over walls. It had one beautiful building, a host of storage silos and scant remains of an outer wall. It was a prime example of an Israelite village from the time of the Judges, with those hallmarks that help identify it as Israelite—the collared-rim jars and the four-room house. The site would also teach an important geography lesson. In announcing our decision to restore the site, we wrote, “The four-room house at Izbet Sartah is an excellent and well-preserved example of this Israelite architecture, the elements of which will be easily discernible to the student and visitor after BAR’s restoration.”^d

Within a year, under the supervision of Professor Kochavi and coordinated by BAR’s Preservation Liaison, Georg Majewski, we had restored the site. We even put up an explanatory sign attached to an almost indestructible stone monument we built. A reader who inspected the restoration for us called Izbet Sartah an “inspired choice.”^e Professor Kochavi wrote me an exuberant letter:

Dear Hershel:

I am pleased to inform you that the first stage of conservation of the Izbet Sartah site has been accomplished. The Four Room House has been restored to a height of approximately 3 feet, the area around it has been cleaned and cleared and all the adjacent silos reinforced …

A meeting at the site, with all the institutions concerned (Tel Aviv University; The Department of Antiquities; The National Parks Authority; Rosh Ha’ayin municipality and The National Fund for Israel), took place recently and it was agreed that every effort should be made to proclaim the site as a National Park. It was also agreed that in the meantime the above-mentioned institutions will take care 061of the site and protect it from man and nature. Needless to say, all this was possible only after the interest BAR’s Archaeological Preservation Fund showed in the matter.

I wanted to visit the site to see how it was doing. So when I was in Israel I called Professor Kochavi, who told me that the site was now well within the growing city of Rosh Ha’ayin and would be almost impossible to find without someone to take me there. Professor Kochavi, who had just retired, was going to be away, but Yuval Gadot, a Ph.D. candidate, knew the site and would be able to find it. Kochavi would arrange for Yuval to take me.

Yuval was very helpful, but the site was a major disappointment. Not a single sign on the road led the visitor to it. Once there, I looked for BAR’s explanatory sign. The remains of the stone monument that we erected to hold our sign were still visible, but the sign itself was long gone. Another sign that had been set up in front of it had also been destroyed.

The archaeological remains were almost impossible to see. The site was completely overgrown with vegetation. We could not even tell how much of our restoration survived because the weeds were so thick. What we could inspect, however, indicated that our restorers had done a good job. If the vegetation were cleared and the garbage removed, it would again be a wonderful site to visit, especially if the municipality of Rosh Ha’ayin would convert the area adjacent to the site into a park. A cool afternoon breeze makes it an ideal spot for a picnic, even in the heat of summer. Whether this will ever happen, I don’t know.

What lessons should we at the Biblical Archaeology Society learn from this experience? Was the 1979 restoration project a failure? Yes, at least for the moment. Yet it can still be reclaimed.

What our experience at Izbet Sartah teaches is that simply restoring a site will not do. It must be maintained. It must be cleaned periodically. And it must be protected from vandals. This is particularly difficult: Vandals are more ingenious at destruction than nature. The only real protection comes from a 24-hour guard. The average fence will not keep them out.

Before a site is selected for restoration, there must be a commitment from somebody to maintain and protect it. We thought we had that commitment. Obviously we didn’t. But there is still time. The town of Rosh Ha’ayin seems like the natural candidate. It has its own Biblical treasure. Let us hope the ancient site will be treated like the jewel it is.

You’re an archaeologist. You’ve carefully excavated a site and written an exemplary final report. Your obligation to history has been met. But what about the site? What happens after you leave? The answer seems obvious: It should be preserved. Of course, when it comes to Israel, the government takes care of its big tourist sites—like Megiddo and Beth-Shean. But what about the orphans, the lesser-known sites? In 1979, the Biblical Archaeology Society decided to do something about the neglect of archaeological sites by establishing the Archaeological Preservation Fund. Our intentions were good: to restore past archaeological sites, making […]