Banias Dig Reveals King’s Palace

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“Trim the balk!” we cried to the volunteers, encouraging them to clean the sides of their excavation square. As volunteers dig down, they leave the balks standing to preserve the layers of debris deposits. The balks are critical for dating purposes, for they reveal the stratigraphy of the site. But to be useful, they must be clean and fresh—and straight.

The volunteers in this square had done an excellent job—but then they exceeded our instructions. They noticed in the balk some finely cut stones that appeared to form the top of an arch. Unable to resist the temptation, they dug a few inches into the side of the balk. Suddenly the mixture of soil and rock collapsed into the earth. A hole opened, just large enough for an intrepid volunteer to squeeze through. One brave Greek university student crawled into the opening and dropped 4 or 5 feet, landing on a muddy surface. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. “You’re not going to believe this!” he shouted as a crowd of volunteers gathered around the opening.

A flashlight was quickly dropped into the hole. Stretching for several yards in 056either direction was a passageway, constructed of large exquisitely cut stones that fitted snugly together in intricate patterns without the use of mortar.

This was our sixth season of excavation at Banias,¹ known as Caesarea Philippi in the Gospels, which describe Jesus and the apostles visiting the “region” or “villages” of Caesarea Philippi (Mark 8:27–30; Matthew 16:13–20). The modern name, Banias, comes from the Arabic pronunciation of the site’s most persistent Greek name, Paneas, a reference to a nearby cave and springs, dedicated as a sanctuary to the god Pan (the p becomes b in Arabic). The sanctuary dates to at least the time when Alexander the Great (332–323 B.C.E.) and his successors introduced Greek customs and Greek gods into Palestine.²

In 20 B.C.E. the emperor Augustus awarded portions of northern Galilee, southern Lebanon, the Hulah Valley, the Golan and large stretches of territory now located in southwestern Syria to Herod the Great, who 057already was serving as a Roman puppet king in Judea. Herod’s newly won territory included the old cult place dedicated to Pan. Here, according to Josephus, Herod built a magnificent white temple in honor of his imperial patron.³ We know a little about this temple from its depiction on coins issued by Herod’s son Philip. It had four supporting columns on the front; scholars refer to it as a tetrastyle structure.^a

At Herod’s death, this part of his kingdom was inherited by his son Philip, who expanded the cult center by founding a city, in the Greco-Roman style, that he named Caesarea (to indicate its imperial sponsorship). However, to differentiate it from Caesarea Maritima, the port city founded by his father, Philip added his own name to the designation of the town, calling it Caesarea Philippi, thereby revealing that this otherwise rather modest man must have inherited at least some of his father’s megalomania.

Philip ruled long and well—for almost half a century (4 B.C.E.–41 C.E.). On his death, this territory was inherited by his nephew Agrippa I, who ruled for only three years (41–44 C.E.) and who, for all we know, was not very interested in Banias.

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When Agrippa I died, Rome decided that his teenage son was too young to inherit the throne. For almost a decade, Banias was placed under the jurisdiction of the Roman governor of Syria. Eventually, however, Agrippa II was given Banias and its territories. He too reigned there for nearly half a century (53 C.E.-c. 93 C.E.).^b Agrippa II—the hero of our piece—possessed such consummate political skill that he was awarded the title basileus, meaning king. Even though he was a Jewish king, he successfully negotiated his way through the great Jewish Revolt against Rome of 66–70 C.E. without losing the support of his Roman overlords. He outlived seven Roman emperors and even a change in dynasties.

Throughout his rule, Agrippa II maintained his capital at Banias, both decorating and enlarging the city.

After Agrippa II’s death, his capital city was again incorporated into the Province of Syria and lost its royal status. It continued to be known primarily as a cult site for the worship of the god Pan and members of his family, such as Zeus and Hermes, and for its famous spring, which spouted from the earth beneath the Cave of Pan and became one of the sources of the Jordan River.⁴ By the second and third centuries C.E., Banias (or Caesarea Paneados, as it was then called) was no more than a Roman provincial town and cult center, though certainly a famous one.

When our archaeological volunteers accidentally stumbled upon the underground passageway, we knew that it somehow connected to a large stone structure built in early Roman (first century C.E.) style that we had already discovered. Over the next several digging seasons, we discovered a whole complex of passageways, with connecting courtyards and large halls with apses at one end. Elaborate arches above the passageways had obviously been designed to carry the weight of a second story, now mostly gone. Heavy walls, more than 3 feet thick, provided further evidence for the missing second floor.

As our surveyors drew the plans, it became increasingly clear that the complex was symmetrical. Halls, courtyards and passageways on the east were the mirror image of those on the west. Once we discovered an architectural feature on one side of the building, we could predict with perfect accuracy where we would find a corresponding feature on the other side. From one side to the other side, the complex spread more than 400 feet—greater than the length of a football field!

Excavation within the halls of the complex revealed that it had once served as a huge bathhouse. Stacks of round and square hypocaust bricks were everywhere. These bricks supported the false floor of the caldarium, the hot room, through which steam flowed. Hypocaust bricks are the telltale sign of an ancient bathhouse.

But it was soon obvious that these bathhouse features had been added to the complex long after its original construction.

While the bathhouse phase of the structure was impressive enough, the original building had clearly been far grander. Beneath the secondary clay-brick floors were traces of marble and mosaic floors. In several places we found marble facings still attached to the walls, held there by iron nails. In the fill, we found 059numerous pieces of beautifully carved marble moldings. Tiny mosaic tesserae (tiles), some made of beautifully colored glass, were scattered about. The building was not only an engineering marvel, it was also an example of the finest and most expensive interior design available in the early days of the Roman Empire.

But what was it when it was built, before it was a bathhouse? The complicated design of the building did not fit any of the standard structures of the period. It was not a theater. It was not a nymphaeum (an elaborate fountain). It was not a temple. It was a complex but not a series of independent structures. Nor were there signs of later additions to the original design of the building; rather, all signs pointed to a single master plan, designed by an architectural genius. It seemed to have been planned with extraordinary skill for this particular spot, directly in the center of the Greco-Roman city. It dominated the skyline and would have been dramatically visible to any traveler who approached the city. Clearly, the building could not have been the project of a private individual; it must have cost in the contemporaneous equivalent of many millions.

As excavation continued, the function of the complex began to emerge. It had been heavily fortified, with an almost military look from the outside. On the southern side, we found the foundations of huge round towers. (The northern limits of the building have not yet been uncovered.) The complex seemed to have been totally enclosed, with the outer gates allowing access only to the lower levels. The entrances were surprisingly small for such a great structure, forcing visitors to pass through narrow corridors into inner courtyards, presumably where guards could keep a constant eye on them. Access to the (now-missing) upper level could be gained only after passing through this elaborate security system; and inside, once again, the entranceways were small, with room for scarcely more than two people walking abreast.

The upper levels of the building, now mostly missing, had unfortunately served as a quarry for medieval building projects.⁵ These levels probably included sumptuous private residential suites. The ground floor was used for public functions.

This arrangement became clearer during the 1997 season, when we found a large basilica^c inside the complex, which could have served for court cases, public hearings, etc.

Gradually, almost hesitantly, we began to realize that the complex was nothing less than a royal palace. Could it logically be anything else? we asked ourselves. Our answer was negative.

But who lived here? The coins found in the complex suggested the building was erected sometime in the late first century C.E. The style and skill of the stonemasons were consistent with this dating. By the second century C.E., the town had lost much of its importance and could hardly have supported such a 061huge palace. By contrast, throughout almost all of the first century, Banias was a truly royal city, the capital of a quasi-independent client kingdom of Rome.

Agrippa II seems like the natural candidate. He ruled there for almost half a century and, according to Josephus, enhanced the “natural beauties of the Panion” and bestowed “royal munificence” on the city, “embellish[ing it] at great expense.”⁶

Incidentally, Agrippa II played a prominent part in connection with Paul’s trial. The apostle was imprisoned in Caesarea Maritima and appealed his conviction to the emperor in Rome. “You have appealed to Caesar; to Caesar shall you go,” ruled the Roman governor Festus (Acts 25:12). A few days later, Agrippa and his half-sister and consort, Berenice, came from Banias to visit Festus. When Festus suggested that Agrippa and Berenice hear the defense of his Jewish prisoner, they agreed. Paul made an impassioned defense, including the famous account of his conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 26:2–29), and a direct challenge to the king’s moral behavior. At one point Festus interrupted, but Paul continued, addressing the king: “King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets [who prophesied a messiah]? I know that you believe.” Shaken, Agrippa responded, “What are you trying to do, Paul, make an instant Christian out of me?” Festus confided to Agrippa: “This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar.” So Paul was sent to Rome.

We believe that the Banias complex was in fact the royal palace of Agrippa II. A coin minted by Agrippa II, clearly dated 82/83 C.E., was found lying on the floor in one of the vaulted rooms that stood at the eastern end of the complex. Not only the building style but also the ceramic evidence is consistent with this conclusion, as is the historical evidence from Josephus, already quoted. The complex was probably built after the First Jewish Revolt against Rome was suppressed in 70 C.E. and Jerusalem was destroyed. It may well have been a gift from the imperial family in gratitude for Agrippa’s loyalty during the revolt. By that time, Josephus had moved to Rome, never to return to Palestine,⁷ so he probably never saw the palace.

Of course, the greatest ancient builder in the Jewish world was Herod the Great, so we naturally considered him as a candidate for our palace. But this palace has real marble on the walls and floors. The palaces of Herod and his son Archelaus, such as those at Masada, Jericho and Herodium, used stucco over stone, painted to simulate marble—not the real thing.

Banias is far to the north, near the ports of Tyre, Sidon and Beirut. These ports were drop-off points for building materials from Greece, Asia Minor and elsewhere. Marble was readily accessible and could be transported relatively easily to interior cities like Banias.

That the marble in our palace points to Agrippa is consistent with a famous inscription attributed to him and Berenice, found many years ago in Beirut. This inscription reads “Queen Berenice, daughter of the great King Agrippa, and King Agrippa her brother adorned with marbles and columns the building which their ancestor King Herod had made, after it had fallen into decay through age.” This building probably was the large civic basilica that stood in the center of Beirut.⁸ Berenice deserves some notice in her own right. After the Jewish Revolt, Titus brought his troops to Banias for rest and relaxation. In honor of his brother Domitian’s birthday, he 085initiated bloody games there, during which thousands of Jewish prisoners died.⁹ During this same visit, Berenice (apparently encouraged by Agrippa) had a torrid love affair with Titus. Some thought it might even lead to marriage, giving Rome the unthinkable, a Jewish empress! The Roman historian Suetonius speaks of the emperor’s “notorious passion” for Berenice, which so scandalized Rome that Titus’s advisors convinced him he must send her back to Banias.¹⁰ Could our palace be a “consolation gift” to the disappointed princess and her humiliated brother?

Sometime after the death of Agrippa, the city fathers of Banias, now a somewhat out-of-the-way town in the huge Province of Syria, found a new use for his magnificent palace. They converted it into a public bathhouse, further adding to the desirability of the town’s lovely setting and no doubt helping to attract the attention of drachma-spending tourists. In so doing they preserved much of the complex in its original form.

If we are correct in our opinion, the thousands of tourists who continue to visit Banias each year may someday be able to walk down long halls, climb stairways, stand in courtyards and before fountains in the residence of someone who not only heard the apostle Paul give his defense plea at Caesarea, but who was also a significant figure in Second Temple period Judaism.

“Trim the balk!” we cried to the volunteers, encouraging them to clean the sides of their excavation square. As volunteers dig down, they leave the balks standing to preserve the layers of debris deposits. The balks are critical for dating purposes, for they reveal the stratigraphy of the site. But to be useful, they must be clean and fresh—and straight. The volunteers in this square had done an excellent job—but then they exceeded our instructions. They noticed in the balk some finely cut stones that appeared to form the top of an arch. Unable to resist the temptation, they […]