How the Dead Sea Scrolls Were Found
001
The most sensational archaeological discovery of the last half century was made entirely by accident. On a morning in the winter of 1946–1947 three shepherds of the Ta’amireh tribe of Bedouin watched their nimble-footed goats skip across the cliffs just north of an old ruin on the northwest shore of the Dead Sea The ruin, known as the City of Salt is mentioned in the Old Testament (Joshua 15:62), and from time to time archaeologists had shown interest. But from the middle of the nineteenth century, when they first worked in the area, until those days in winter, they had said that there was not much at that desolate site. Possibly it was a minor Roman fort. Perhaps, some of the more fanciful said, it was even Gomorrah!
About a mile to the south of the ruin is one of the larger of the numerous freshwater springs that surround the Dead Sea. This place known as Ain Feshkha, is where these three Bedouin watered their animals. Then it was up the cliffs and into the forbidding wilderness where shepherds, like David, let their flocks wander in search of food. And so on that fateful day the immemorial scene was repeated, with black beasts defying gravity on steep inclines, leaping, stopping to nibble here and there. A seemingly disinterested shepherd moved leisurely below, but his eye missed nothing. Some of the goats were climbing too high up. It was getting late and time to get them down. Jum’a Muhammed—that was the name of the fellow—now showed his own nimbleness in getting up the cliff face. As he climbed something caught his attention. There were two small openings in the rock. They were caves, or maybe two openings into the same cave. But they were so small. A man could not get through the lower one but might just squeeze through the upper one. He threw a rock into the opening and peered in. 007The rock had broken pottery, and what else would be in these remote caves but treasure? Maybe his days of following the sheep were over. He peered into the black depths of the cave but nothing could be made out. He yelled down to his two cousins. Khalil Musa was older. Muhammed Ahmed el-Hamed was younger, a teenager. They came up and heard the excited tale. But it was now getting very late and the goats had to be gathered. Tomorrow would take them to Ain Feshkha. In the afternoon they would return for another look at this intriguing cave.
But they did not visit the cave the next afternoon, returning somewhat later than planned from Ain Feshkha. At dawn of the next morning Muhammed Ahmed el-Hamed, who was nicknamed “The Wolf” (edh-Dhib), woke first. Leaving his two cousins sleeping on the ground, he scaled the 350 or so feet up to the cave Jum’a had found two days before. With effort the slender young man was able to lower himself feet first into the cave. The floor was covered with debris including broken pottery. But along the wall stood a number of narrow jars, some with their bowl-shaped covers still in place. Edh-Dhib scrambled over the floor of the cave and plunged his hand into one of the jars. Nothing. Frantically he tore the cover from another, eagerly exploring the smooth inside of the empty container. Another and yet another with the same result. The ninth was full of dirt. The increasingly desperate young Bedouin at last closed his hand around something wrapped in cloth. He extracted two such bundles and then a third, which had a leather covering but not cloth wrapping. The cloth and the leather were greenish with age. These were all edh-Dhib took from the cave that morning.
008He wiggled himself out of the opening and half-ran, half-fell down the hillside to show his sleepy cousins what he had found. Treasure indeed! Scholars who later interviewed edh-Dhib think that this boy had in his hands on that winter morning nothing less than the great Isaiah Scroll, the Habakkuk Commentary and The Manual of Discipline!
Khalil and Jum’a could not have been less interested in the scrolls edh-Dhib showed them. Where was the treasure? Had he hidden it for himself? Relentless questions. A little roughing-up. But in the end edh-Dhib was able to convince the other two that there was nothing but these worthless rolls. Had he looked carefully? Maybe there were other jars. Maybe one of the broken ones had spilled its valuable contents on the floor of the cave and it was in the debris.
Once more the three made their way up the hill to the cave. Edh-Dhib passed a number of jars out of the opening, but these were left in front of the cave when they proved to be empty, just as he had said. Downcast, the shepherds zigzagged their way down to the makeshift camp. Jum’a crammed the rolls into a bag. When later they returned to the Ta’amireh center near Bethlehem he took them with him. The bag with its “treasure”—so much more vast than the disappointed men ever dreamed!—was hung on a tentpole. How long it was there we do not know for certain. Occasionally its contents were removed and passed around among more curious members of the tribe. The Isaiah Scroll was damaged, but only its cover. The precious text was unhurt. When The Manual of Discipline reached St. Mark’s Monastery in Jerusalem some months later it was in two pieces. But no one is sure if this was the fault of the Ta’amireh. The break is such that it could have occurred in ancient times.
A few weeks after the initial discovery of this cave—an orifice that came to be known to scholars as Qumran Cave One, the cave of the great scrolls—Jum’a returned with other Bedouin and removed several other scrolls which they found there. As nearly as it is possible to reconstruct the story now, they removed seven major manuscripts altogether, the four that ended up at St. Mark’s and the three that came into the possession of Hebrew University.
Such was the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, manuscripts a thousand years older than the then oldest known Hebrew texts of the Bible, manuscripts many of which were written a hundred years before the birth of Jesus and at least one of which may have been written almost three hundred years before the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem.
How these manuscripts got from a Bedouin tentpole into the scholar’s study is as fascinating as their chance discovery. The setting for this part of the story was the last days of the British Mandate in Palestine. His Majesty’s Foreign Office had somewhat irresponsibly decided that since the problem of Palestine could not be solved by reason they would withdraw leaving the two sides to decide the issue by blood. Jewish and Arab families which had lived side by side for generations were being wrenched apart by fear and distrust. Barbed wire appeared in the most unlikely places. Immigrants, legal and illegal, added impetus to the worsening situation. The British were literally besieged by both sides, but particularly by the Jewish underground army. Murders were growing in number. The King David Hotel in Jerusalem was blown up with severe loss of life. In such times the Bedouin youths wondered if they could find a buyer for their greenish rolls.
In early April 1947 Jum’a and Khalil took them to Bethlehem, principal market town of the Ta’amireh. They took three scrolls and two jars to the carpenter shop of Ibrahim ‘Ijha who dabbled in antiquities. Faidi Salahi, another dealer in antiquities was there. He was later to play a large role in the story of the scrolls but on this occasion he cautioned ‘Ijha to be careful. These things might be stolen. There might be serious trouble. The two shepherds moved on carrying their jars and their scrolls.
In the marketplace Jum’a, with the scrolls, ran into George Ishaya Shamoun, who was often in Bethlehem on Saturdays selling cloaks to Bedouin. Jum’a imparted the tale of these worthless scrolls to his friend. Someone suggested that they go to the cobbler’s shop of Khalil Iskander Shahin—better known as Kando. Kando was Syrian Orthodox Christian. He was also serious about the scrolls. For one-third of whatever the sale price might be Kando and George would handle the disposal of 010the scrolls. Agreed. Jum’a and Khalil were given £5 and the scrolls were left in the little shop in Bethlehem.
During Holy Week, George, also Syrian Orthodox, mentioned the manuscripts to Athanasius Yeshue Samuel, Syrian Orthodox Metropolitan of Jerusalem. He told the priest they were written in Syriac, wrapped “like mummies,” and were from the wilderness near the Dead Sea. Samuel knew that they would have to be very old, if genuine, because that region had not been inhabited since early Christian times. He expressed an interest in the scrolls and urged Kando to bring them to St. Mark’s.
Within the week Kando and George were at the monastery with one manuscript, The Manual of Discipline. It was, the Metropolitan saw at once, not written in Syriac but in Hebrew. Then to the astonishment of his visitors he broke off a piece of the margin and burned it. By this somewhat crude but effective means he determined it was animal skin. Yes, Samuel would buy this scroll and any others the Bedouin might have. Kando with the manuscript securely in hand departed but promised to get in touch with his friends from the desert. For several days anxious calls went out from St. Mark’s to Kando’s shop near Manger Square in Bethlehem. The conversations were fruitless. Weeks went by. Samuel’s frustration turned to resignation.
On the first Saturday in July Kando called. Two Bedouin had brought some scrolls to Bethlehem. Would they risk bringing them to Jerusalem? asked Samuel. Yes. The tide of violence between Jew, Arab and Briton was swelling. Jewish terrorism, mostly directed against the British, was beginning to be heavily felt in certain Arab areas. The worst was yet to come, but it was already a difficult and dangerous time in and around Jerusalem. In this atmosphere Samuel became anxious when the Bedouin and their scrolls had not appeared by noon. Yet he had not mentioned his appointment to anyone since he was not entirely sure that the whole affair was not some kind of hoax. Hungry, agitated, Samuel sat down to eat. In the idle lunchtime conversation the Metropolitan heard one of the fathers mention that he had turned away some bedouin from the door earlier in the morning. When questioned he affirmed that they were carrying scrolls. The Syrian monk had even ascertained that they were written in Hebrew. Probably old Torahs from somewhere, but filthy and covered with pitch or something else which smelled equally bad. These he steadfastly refused to allow within the monastery walls, still less into His Grace’s presence as the bearers demanded.
Samuel returned to his office to call Kando. As he reached for the telephone, it rang. It was none other than the Bethlehem parishoner himself, deeply offended at the treatment given his friends. Explanations were offered, apologies made. Where were the scrolls now? Thanks entirely to George, said Kando, they were safely back in Bethlehem.
It seems that when the Bedouin along with George who was the man closest to the shepherds in all this, had been turned away from the monastery they went to the Jaffa Gate to catch the bus back to Bethlehem. There in discussion with a Jewish merchant an offer was made to buy them. George, however, had correctly guessed what the trouble had been at the door of St. Mark’s. He was, furthermore, committed to the Metropolitan. He argued with his friends and finally prevailed. The three boarded the bus for Bethlehem with the manuscripts. Kando reached for his telephone when he heard what had happened. This reported incident at the Jaffa Gate, it should be pointed out, is not well authenticated and may be a part of the considerable legend that has grown up around the Dead Sea Scrolls.
It was two weeks before Kando could make his way to Jerusalem. He was graciously received by the Syrian fathers. Samuel heard the story of the discovery of the cave and its contents. Of greater interest five scrolls, including the one which had been brought previously, were produced from a bag. Two documents were in a delicate state. Two others looked similar and later proved to be the two halves of The Manual of Discipline. The fifth, the largest, was superbly preserved. It could be easily unrolled, revealing graceful Hebrew characters. A deal was quickly made. The Metropolitan gave Kando £24 ($97.00), of which two-thirds went to Jum’a and Khalil.
Three months after Samuel had first heard of the existence of the scrolls they 011were in his possession. Now doubts began to creep in. Were they genuine? Was there such a cave as had been described to him? With George’s help Father Yusef, one of the monks from St. Mark’s visited the site and reported to his superior that there was such a cave and indeed it contained scraps of other scrolls as well as a large jar suitable for storing much water.
With his faith in the authenticity of the scrolls revived, the Metropolitan set about to determine their contents and to sustain or destroy his view that they were from early Christian times. One would think that in a city such as Jerusalem, with its multiplicity of religious communities and prestigious scholarly institutions, this would have been a relatively simple matter. But few things are simple in Jerusalem, still less in a time of violence and when the question at hand is so patently improbable as authenticating scrolls 2,000 years old. It was fully six months before Samuel’s dreams were confirmed.
His first contact was the Palestine Department of Antiquities in the person of Stephen Hanna Stephen, a member of the Syrian Orthodox Church and thus well known to Samuel. There had been reports in Byzantine and earlier times of scrolls having been found near Jericho (Qumran is seven and a half miles south). From the 014second, third and fourth Christian centuries came reports of Greek and Hebrew books found in jars in the area. Origen, an early church father, is said to have used some of these in compiling his famous Hexapla. In the late eighth century Patriarch Timothy I reported a similar find, noting that the manuscripts were found in caves. These things, common knowledge among scholars, were apparently not known to Stephen. But he did know of numerous incidents of hoaxes involving antiquities. He responded to the Metropolitan by suggesting the embarrassment that might come should his manuscripts turn out to be fake. Would Stephen, asked Samuel, call the documents to the attention of those in the Department of Antiquities who might be able to render proper judgment? Stephen had rather not lest he, too, be held up to ridiculebefore his colleagues.
The Syrian priest, undaunted by this rebuke, now found his way to the famous École Biblique, the Dominican monastery of St. Stephen and home of the French Biblical and Archaeological School. There he was received by Father Marmardji, a fellow Syrian and friend of long standing, who listened to the story of the finding of the scrolls with some interest. Some days later Father Marmardji came to St. Mark’s accompanied by a young Dutch Dominican, Father J. Van der Ploeg. Together they examined the materials. Neither thought the writings were as old as claimed. The Dutchman did, however immediately recognize the largest scroll as the Book of Isaiah. He was the first to do so. When he returned to the École, Van der Ploeg spoke with some enthusiasm of the documents he had just seen. L. H. Vincent, the distinguished Dominican scholar and a fixture at the French monastery for forty years, noting that this was the Dutch monk’s first visit to Jerusalem, suggested he should not be taken in so easily. Perhaps, thought the learned Vincent, if Samuel could produce pottery from the alleged context where the writings had been found it might help to sustain his claims. When no pottery was forthcoming Van der Ploeg did not pursue the matter further.
Samuel continued to make attempts to find scholarly help with the scrolls and even attempted to learn Hebrew. At one point a chance business contact resulted in the inspection of the scrolls by two men from the library of Hebrew University. According to Samuel they said they wished to photograph a few parts for further study. The monastery was placed at their disposal for such purposes, but they never returned, perhaps because of the increasing danger to a Jew in the Old City. A little later an antiquities dealer suggested sending the manuscripts to Europe or America where they could be evaluated. But with postal services breaking down under the weight of civil conflict Samuel thought it not a good idea to place his materials in the mails.
In late January 1948 the St. Mark’s manuscripts came temporarily into the hands of E. L. Sukenik, the distinguished archaeologist of Hebrew. University. Unknown to all but a very few, Sukenik had had other scrolls from the Bedouin’s discovery in his hands since the previous November. Anton Kiraz now enters the story. Kiraz was a parishoner at St. Mark’s. He was, in addition, extremely close to Samuel. In 1945 Sukenik excavated on some of Kiraz’ property and was also personally known to him. Kiraz was thus admirably situated to act as contact between the priest and the professor.
Kiraz arranged for Sukenik to see the scrolls at the YMCA, which was at that time in neutral territory. As soon as he saw them Sukenik made an offer of £100 for the materials, as Kiraz recalled. Sukenik, in his written recollection of the event, did not mention an offer. However that may have 015been, Kiraz allowed one scroll to be removed to Hebrew University for further study. The other documents remained in a drawer at the YMCA. The Isaiah Scroll stayed for about a week at the university during which time a portion (chapters 42 and 43) was hastily and somewhat incorrectly copied. When it was returned Sukenik spoke of the university’s interest in purchasing all of the scrolls.
According to Kiraz the figure of £500 ($2,025) was mentioned. But Kiraz said he would have to talk with Samuel, Sukenik is said to have increased the offer to £1000—750 for Kiraz, 250 for Samuel, Kiraz insisted on talking with the Metropolitan. He would contact Sukenik once he had had a chance to discuss the offer. There the matter was left.
At this juncture, in early February and fully a year since edh-Dhib had first slithered into the cave, Samuel’s lifelong friend and fellow monk, Butros Sowmy, returned to St. Mark’s after an absence. He was a learned man and one of good judgment. With increasing concern he heard of Sukenik’s offer and of Samuel’s apparent readiness to accept it. If Sukenik were so anxious to secure these documents perhaps, reasoned Sowmy, it would be well to get another opinion before selling. Kiraz wrote to the distraught professor saying they were not going to sell just now, but would wait until the local situation settled a bit and they could perhaps get some international judgments and perhaps overseas offers.
Meantime, Sowmy recalled his cordial dealings with the American Schools of Oriental Research just north of the Old City, quite near the École Biblique. He telephoned and the call was turned over to John Trever, a fellow of the school, who had been left in temporary charge during the absence of Millar Burrows, the director. Sowmy asked if Trever would help date some old manuscripts that had been lying about St. Mark’s library for some years. As a precaution the Americans had not gone into the Old City for some time. It was now dangerous in the extreme. Could the materials be brought to the school? In response Sowmy agrees to present himself and the scrolls the next day at 2:30 P.M.
With mounting excitement Trever examined the manuscripts. The writing on the Isaiah Scroll, although clearly Hebrew, was nonetheless strange to his eyes. Yet he 016had seen a similar script somewhere. A superb and inveterate photographer, Trever was never one to be far away from cameras and their products. On his desk was a series of slides dealing with the background of the English Bible. He extracted a picture of the ninth-century A.D. British Museum Codex. The writing on the scrolls brought by Sowmy was older. Next Trever removed a slide of the Nash Papyrus, a second-century fragment and the then oldest known Biblical Hebrew. The script was similar, but not exactly the same. It was hard to be sure; the slide was much too small for detailed comparison in the hand viewer. His cameras unfortunately at the moment at the Museum of the Department of Antiquities, Trever copied by hand that portion of the manuscript open before him. He then proposed to Sowmy that a complete photographic record be made of all the scrolls. The monk was agreeable but would have to discuss it with his superior.
Sowmy left. Trever soon determined that what he had copied was a portion of the sixty-fifth chapter of Isaiah. Was the rest of Isaiah on that scroll? Could it be as old as the Nash Papyrus? Early the next morning, after an almost sleepless night, Trever determined to go to St. Mark’s in spite of the danger. With the aid of the Arab secretary of the school he secured the necessary permissions and risking life and limb was taken by Miss Faris through the narrow, hazardous streets to the Syrian monastery. There he met the Metropolitan, who was at length convinced the manuscripts should again be brought to the school where there were photographic equipment and better conditions for obtaining good results than in St. Mark’s dim library.
For the rest of the day Trever and William Brownlee culled from the library of the American Schools all the material they could find about ancient manuscripts. Unfortunately fighting and sabotage interrupted Jerusalem’s electric service in the afternoon. After working by kerosene lamps late into the night the two men were convinced that the form of the script on the Isaiah Scroll was as old as or older than the Nash Papyrus.
The next day, a Saturday, dawned bright—on the outside, that is. The lights were still out inside the school. By 9:30 the Metropolitan and Father Sowmy were there with the materials to be photographed. Just as Trever was about to use natural light from a window, the electric lights came on. With Brownlee’s help two scrolls Isaiah and the Habakkuk Commentary were unrolled and photographed. By late afternoon the task was not complete. Three scrolls remained. But by this time the two young Americans had won the confidence of the Syrian, who gladly left the unrecorded scrolls and a fragment behind as he returned to St. Mark’s. Among the many happenstances surrounding the scrolls none was more felicitous than the presence of so fine a photographer as Trever. His record of the contents of the four Dead Sea Scrolls from the Syrian monastery (a fifth was too delicate to be opened then) now constitute the finest material available for study of these documents. This is especially so since the originals have faded from exposure despite the best of care under controlled conditions.
Subsequent excavations at the caves indicated the scrolls had been damaged when they were removed from their jars 028and unwrapped. Fragments from the manuscripts were on the floor of the cave. The documents had also been stripped of their linen protection and carried about in sacks, paper and otherwise. But at last the precious scrolls were in loving hands. Before returning them to St. Mark’s they were carefully wrapped. The seriously deteriorated leather scroll was placed in a specially constructed box. While this was going on, Trever sent photographic copies to the doyen of Palestinian archaeologists and the leading expert on ancient forms of writing, W. F. Albright.
In the following days Trever, sometimes accompanied by Burrows, now returned, made numerous trips to St. Mark’s, each journey fraught with its own several perils. Often guards were provided by the monastery to insure safety. At least once the scrolls were returned to the American School. Trever was not pleased with all of his initial pictures. Ever a perfectionist in matters photographic he wished to retake the Isaiah Scroll. This involved a difficult search of the shops of the city for proper film. Only outdated portrait film was located. But Trever rejoiced to find even this.
On March 15 a letter from the United States reached the school:
My heartiest congratulations on the greatest manuscript discovery of modern times! There is no doubt in my mind that the script is more archaic than that of the Nash Papyrus … I should prefer a date around 100 B.C.! … What an absolutely incredible find! And there can happily not be the slightest doubt in the world about the genuineness of the manuscript.
Albright’s practiced eyes had confirmed the Metropolitan’s hopes and the scholarly judgment of Trever and Brownlee.
Two weeks later steadily increasing violence forced the abandonment of the American School. Trever was the last to go. He left on April 5th. Samuel, under various urgings, sought a safe place for his scrolls. St. Mark’s was a particularly vulnerable location. Sowmy suggested a bank vault in Beirut as a safer place (shortly thereafter Sowmy was killed by bomb fragments as he stood in the courtyard at St. Mark’s). Beirut became the way station for the manuscripts on their journey to America.
The intriguing story of the scrolls in America is one that cannot be told in detail here. Suffice it to say that Burrows, Trever and Brownlee were able to continue their work on the texts and to publish them. Now famous, the Dead Sea Scrolls were displayed at various locations in the United States and seen by thousands. The publicity enhanced their value but the Metropolitan’s attempts to sell were clouded by claims to the scrolls by the new nations, Jordan and Israel; as well as the go-between Anton Kiraz. Confusion over ownership was such that Yale and Duke universities found reasons not to buy the scrolls. Yale bought a Boswell diary for a reported $450,000. Duke built another building. The Library of Congress displayed the scrolls but showed little interest in purchasing them. At last they came to rest in a specially prepared safe in the home of a Syrian Orthodox Christian in Worcester, Massachusetts.
Meanwhile all scholars did not agree with the judgment of Professor Albright and that of a vast and growing host. Tovia Wechsler, a journalist and something of a Hebraist, who had been one of the first to see the scrolls and who at the time had laughed them away, attacked Trever for 029his views and stoutly maintained that the story of the find was a hoax. Not only the manuscripts were under attack. Metropolitan Samuel was declared an outlaw in Jordan and found his integrity and reputation a matter of widespread debate. He decided to sell the scrolls by whatever means at hand. One way was a simple newspaper ad. On June 1, 19.54, the following appeared in The Wall Street Journal.
Miscellaneous For Sale
THE FOUR DEAD SEA SCROLLS
Biblical manuscripts dating back to at least 200 B.C. are for sale. This would be an ideal gift to an educational or religious institution by an individual or group.
Box F 206 Wall Street Journal
On July 1, after some delicate negotiations, the scrolls, accompanied by the Metropolitan and two others, came to the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York. There they met Mr. Sidney Esteridge, the would-be purchaser, with his lawyers and several experts. The price, $250,000, had been agreed upon in advance. It was a bargain by any realistic standard. After considerable discussion of various details in the bill of sale, the matter was consummated. Three months later the “Archbishop Samuel Trust” to aid Syrian Orthodox churches was considerably enriched. But the legal papers for the trust were not properly drawn. The sum was reported as personal income and the United States Internal Revenue Service got most of the purchase price.
For all the Archbishop knew the scrolls were in the private collection of a rich American. In February 1955 the Israeli prime minister announced that these four manuscripts were in Israel. How the scrolls came into the possession of the State of Israel remained somewhat of a mystery until Professor Yigael Yadin told the story. He tells how, on a visit to America, his attention was called to the newspaper ad. He knew the value of the materials and remembered the agonizing attempt of his father, Professor Sukenik, to obtain the scrolls in January of 1948. Yadin determined to try to buy the documents for the State of Israel. A direct approach was unwise. Thus a subterfuge was invented. Mr. Esteridge was in fact acting on behalf of Yadin and the Israeli government.
The four scrolls formerly in Metropolitan Samuel’s possession thus were returned to Jerusalem to be with other major scrolls from Cave One at Qumran. They came to Hebrew University, which Professor Sukenik had honored with his knowledge for so long. But it was too late for Sukenik. He had died a year earlier. Now it is time to tell his part in the story.
On Sunday, November 23, 1947, Sukenik received a message from a friend of his, Faidi Salahi, a dealer in antiquities. He had something of interest to show the scholar. The next morning, according to the professor’s dramatic account, the two met across one of the barbed wire barricades the British were erecting in an effort to keep violent factions apart. The Armenian held up a scrap of leather. On it were Hebrew characters which Sukenik immediately recognized as being similar to those he had seen on early Jewish funeral urns. For the briefest moment he thought it must be a forgery of some sort. He had never heard of this kind of script on leather, parchment or papyrus other than the Nash. But the man holding it was an old and trusted friend and besides the fragment had all the appearances of authenticity. There and then he made up his mind to buy the document from which it came. Could other fragments be seen? Yes, said the Armenian, they were in Bethlehem. Could they be brought to Jerusalem? Yes.
On Thursday Sukenik, now armed with a pass that allowed him through the barricades, went to his friend’s shop and viewed additional pieces of the manuscript. He was convinced. He must go 030to Bethlehem and deal directly with the Arab dealer who had the document in his possession. For Sukenik to visit an Arab area involved great personal risk. Moreover, the very next day the United Nations was scheduled to vote on the partition of Palestine. Whichever way the vote went, wholesale hostilities were almost sure to follow. His wife and his son, Yigael, then commander of Jewish armed forces, knew the danger and argued against it. Persuasion put off the fulfillment of an archaeologist’s dream. Then the UN delayed its vote. Jerusalem held its breath. It was an opening for Sukenik. The day was November 29, 1948.
There is a good deal of confusion about the events of that day with reference to the Dead Sea Scrolls. According to one story Sukenik risked his life by going to Arab Bethlehem. There, according to this version, he was shown three scrolls and even allowed to bring them back to Jerusalem. According to another account, an Arab friend of the professor’s brought them to him in Jerusalem. No matter. The net result is the same. Sukenik came into possession of three scrolls which turned out to be The Warfare Scroll, The Thanksgiving Scroll, and another copy of Isaiah in somewhat poorer condition than the magnificent Isaiah manuscript then at St. Mark’s.
The day after these ancient Hebrew scrolls came to Hebrew University the United Nations voted to partition Palestine. Much moved by both events Sukenik felt there was something symbolic in the coincidence. Full of joy at the acquisition of the documents, the professor told almost anyone who would listen of his good fortune. About a week later he told one of the university librarians. In astonished silence Sukenik listened to a tale this man had to relate. Some months before, he and another of the library staff had gone to St. Mark’s Monastery in the Old City to have a look at some manuscripts. The Syrian Metropolitan wanted to know their content and age and whether Hebrew University might wish to acquire them. They were written in Samaritan, the two librarians decided, and were not very old. A little later he had called St. Mark’s with the offer of a Samaritan specialist, but Samuel was away. So the matter was dropped.
Stunned, Sukenik could not believe what he was being told. Those so-called Samaritan manuscripts were part of the collection he now had, he was sure of it. His impulse was to go by St. Mark’s on his way home, but the Old City was now securely in Arab hands and no one entered without a pass. This he was not likely to get, since his son was who he was. Even if by some miracle he got a pass he had no money to offer for the scrolls.
Sukenik went home and began work on trying to raise funds. Slowly from various sources a little money began to accumulate. Sukenik thought that about £1500 (then about $6,075) might be enough. Efforts to reach the Syrian priest and open negotiations came to nothing. Then, near the end of January, a letter came from the Old City, from a man on whose property Sukenik had excavated an early Jewish tomb some years before. His name was Anton Kiraz. He offered to show some scrolls that were for sale. The rest of the story you know.
014
Meeting on Biblical Agriculture
A congress on agriculture in the land of the Bible throughout the generations will be held in Israel next March 28 through April 4. The meeting will report on recent research in agriculture—ancient and modern—as it illuminates the Bible, as well as later writings. Timed to coincide with the spring landscape, the convocation will also provide an opportunity for extensive field observation.
Further information may be obtained from Mr. M. Bar-Daroma, Ministry of Agriculture, P.O. Box 7011, Hakirya, Tel Aviv, Israel.
016
Free Archaeology Magazine
A beautifully illustrated, printed and written magazine that is available free to people interested in archaeology is Muse, the annual of the Museum of Art and Archaeology of the University of Missouri, Columbia. A special attraction is Professor Saul Weinberg’s reports on his excavations at Tell Anafa, “The Mound of the Heron”, located in Upper Galilee near the source of the Jordan River. His reports appear regularly in Muse, and readers can watch the results of an excavation unfold year after year. Even after the digging stops, the analysis goes on.
To be placed on the mailing list of Muse, write the Museum of Art and Archaeology, Ellis Library 4D11, University of Missouri, Columbia, Missouri 65201.
028
Ussishkin Heads Tel Aviv Institute
BAR Editorial Advisory Board Member David Ussishkin has been named Director of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University for the coming year, succeeding Yohanan Aharoni.
The 40-year-old Ussishkin is currently directing excavations at Lachish, south of Jerusalem. He is an editor of Tel Aviv, the Institute’s archaeological journal, and the author of many scholarly articles. He has also conducted an archaeological survey of tombs in Silwan Village which faces the ancient City of David in Jerusalem.
Ussishkin is the grandson of Menahem Mendel Ussishkin, a well-known Zionist leader for more than 60 years.
029
New Franciscan Magazine
The Franciscans in Jerusalem have begun a new magazine for laymen which reports on a variety of matters, including archaeological subjects of special interest to Christians.
Titled Holy Land Review, the new magazine started publication in the spring of 1975. Subscriptions may be ordered by addressing the Holy Land Review at Terra Sancta College, P.O.B. 871, Jerusalem, Israel. Subscriptions are $2.00 per year.
The most sensational archaeological discovery of the last half century was made entirely by accident. On a morning in the winter of 1946–1947 three shepherds of the Ta’amireh tribe of Bedouin watched their nimble-footed goats skip across the cliffs just north of an old ruin on the northwest shore of the Dead Sea The ruin, known as the City of Salt is mentioned in the Old Testament (Joshua 15:62), and from time to time archaeologists had shown interest. But from the middle of the nineteenth century, when they first worked in the area, until those days in winter, they […]
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