First-Hand: Digging at the Grass Roots Level

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A 4,000-year-old farm may not sound as exciting to excavate as a palace, but I found that exploring ancient agriculture was just as rewarding as digging up royal treasures.

With volunteers from all over the world, my archaeological target was three ancient farms in a valley near Jerusalem. These farms were buried under silt, surrounded by grass and, originally, separated by centuries. Officially we were part of the Department of Antiquities Ein Yael project with Gershon Edelstein as director. (See “Ancient Jerusalem’s Rural Food Basket,” BAR 08:04.) We were literally digging at the grass roots of an agricultural system extending from the era of the Canaanites, through the Iron Age monarchies of Israel, into Roman and Byzantine times and continuing until today. We labored to produce evidence of rural expertise in the land of abundant agricultural metaphors.

The Ein Yael project, an ambitious undertaking, nestles in limestone hills four miles southwest of Jerusalem. The new apartment blocks of modern Gilo perch on summits east of the site while the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv railroad tracks bisect the site. The ubiquitous stone terraces threading their way around the valley give mute testimony to the people who, long ago, struggled here to provide food for family and trade.

The Ein Yael project consists of three distinct farms. The project derives its name from the 11-acre homestead of Roman times (70–324 A.D.) that utilized the Yael spring. (Ein Yael means Yael’s Spring.) North of the site, across the railroad tracks and a bit east, lies Kirbet er-Ras. Archaeologists date that Iron Age farm of 4.5 acres to the eighth century B.C. I was involved in the third site, about 200 yards west of Kirbet er-Ras. Technically it is an Early Bronze IV (2350–2200 B.C.) settlement, but we simply called it a Canaanite farm.

The first task was to clear the site of a year’s accumulation of vegetation. The perimeter of our work was marked by a series of large stones, and Dr. Edelstein assured us that these stones were remains of a house or a courtyard. Part of our task was to remove the earth and terrace walls built upon more ancient foundations. After the ancient remains were exposed, the archaeologists would be able to determine if we were exhuming a house, a courtyard or some other structure. We soon discovered that the size and position of the stones and the way they were chiseled indicated what was, on the one hand, part of the natural landscape and what was, on the other hand, part of a man-made structure. We could even speculate about when and why a stone was moved.

Digging between the stones, we uncovered innumerable sherds, as well as a few flints, bones and even olive pits. How can you tell how old an olive pit is? Note the weight: Centuries-old olive pits weigh less than those only a few years old.

Although the daily labor was never ordinary, two discoveries remain vivid in my memory. As we peeled away layers of earth approximately three inches deep, we noticed that the soil suddenly changed color from a rich black to a dull red. Edelstein conjectured that we had discovered either the clay floor of a courtyard or a clay brick wall that had collapsed. The second discovery was even more tangible. In a corner of a Canaanite house, a large, broken but well-preserved clay jar began to surface. With hand pick, trowel and brush we carefully freed the fragments of the jar. We found enough pieces to enable us to accurately reconstruct a vessel about two feet high that might have been used for transporting water or storing grain.

With a sense of awe, I wondered about that moment when the vessel we were delicately freeing from the earth had been broken and left in the corner. Did a woman stumble and fall while hurrying about her daily chores? Had a child in careless play destroyed a family treasure? Or had a soldier or thief in senseless rage ruined a vital implement of civilized living? I could only wonder. We were uncovering evidence of everyday life of nearly 4,500 years ago. Our kind was not part of an offering preserved in a tomb out of concern for the hereafter; it was an unplanned message from the past.

My experience as a volunteer broadened and refocused my view of both archaeology and history. Our project was part of the new balance or vision in modern archaeology. No longer do great palaces, forts and temples monopolize scholarly interest. Ein Yael research looks for the rural resources that supported monarch, soldier, merchant, prophet and priest in ancient urban society. Urban monuments were only one part of a complicated economic network. What foods fed the armies marching to protect trade, treaties and tariffs? How were plants watered during the months without rain? What surplus foods or agricultural by-products entered the economic system? I continue to marvel at the exploits of the famous kings like Solomon and Herod who created awesome urban monuments. But now I appreciate more the labor of the countless anonymous people who created rural works essential for the economic and political survival of a state.

A ,000-year-old farm may not sound as exciting to excavate as a palace, but I found that exploring ancient agriculture was just as rewarding as digging up royal treasures. With volunteers from all over the world, my archaeological target was three ancient farms in a valley near Jerusalem. These farms were buried under silt, surrounded by grass and, originally, separated by centuries. Officially we were part of the Department of Antiquities Ein Yael project with Gershon Edelstein as director. (See “Ancient Jerusalem’s Rural Food Basket,” BAR 08:04.) We were literally digging at the grass roots of an agricultural system […]