Restore the Roman Temple at Kedesh

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If you want to observe the latest scientific techniques being applied in a live excavation and, five minutes later, experience what it was like to explore the Holy Land in the 19th century, before archaeology touched it and ancient sites simply lay in ruins, then go to Kedesh, in northern Israel, just south of the Lebanese border.

In any circumstances, a trip to Kedesh can be jarring. But to add to the unreality, on the day we visited Tel Kedesh this past May, Israeli troops were just leaving Lebanon. We were being shown around by codirectors Sharon Herbert of the University of Michigan and Andrea Berlin of the University of Minnesota, and it was a strange, unsettling experience to look down at the excavation squares then up at the attack helicopters going into and out of Lebanon. Moreover, as we listened to the excavators discuss a magnetometer survey that had located a huge underground building (now being unearthed), we simultaneously heard the none-too-distant artillery shells, which raised puffs of dust and smoke on the horizon. Where we stood, a mere 044one mile south of the border, everything was serene and peaceful. We never felt as if we were in danger. No shells were coming toward us. Yet within earshot, a war was going on. We did not know that Israel would complete her withdrawal from Lebanon the next day.

Tel Kedesh is a beautiful tell, a little over 20 acres in size, with remains from the Early Bronze Age all the way to the Roman period and beyond. The current excavation is the first major expedition to the site. In a future issue, we will publish the excavators’ 045report detailing how modern science is telling them where to dig. After hearing about the impressive remains that the archaeologists and their volunteers were uncovering (interestingly, only two of the people who had signed up as volunteers decided not to come because of the uncertain situation in Lebanon), we said goodbye to Sharon and Andrea, left the modern excavation, walked down the tell, crossed the road and followed a narrow path through heavy growth to a site, five minutes away, that I hadn’t seen in 25 years—the remains of a Roman temple, perhaps the most impressive Roman temple in all Israel.

Apart from what is left of the facade (which rises to a height of 25 feet), the temple lies in ruins. Magnificent architectural members simply perch where they fell, probably brought down by the earthquake that struck this region on May 19, 363 A.D. Most of the easily reusable ashlars (dressed stones) that formed the walls of the temple have long since been robbed. And what remains is vulnerable (for example, an altar with an inscription seen and drawn by Charles Clermont-Ganneau in the last century has now disappeared).

In the 19th century the site was observed by explorers and surveyors such as Charles Wilson, Claude Conder and H.H. Kitchener. In the 1970s and 1980s, a team from Tel Aviv University (led by Asher Ovadiah, Moshe Fischer and Israel Roll) surveyed the site and conducted some excavations.¹ But the temple itself looks much as it has looked for the past 1,600 years.

According to an inscription, the temple was constructed in 117 A.D. Remodeled later that century and again in the third century, it bears an architectural resemblance to the magnificent temples at Baalbek, in Lebanon; indeed, the Kedesh temple in Upper Galilee was the southernmost of a series of Roman temples whose inspiration emanated from Baalbek.

The god whose statue stood in the Kedesh temple was probably Baalshamin, or, in his Latin incarnation, Jupiter. The design of the entrance facade indicates that this was an oracular temple,² not unlike other shrines, such as the Greek temple at Delphi, where oracles were given. Pilgrims would go to oracular temples seeking answers to their questions from the deity inside, who would respond to their queries by speaking through a priest or prophet.

The facade of the Kedesh temple has three openings. The two small side openings, at floor level, were for the priests. The threshold of the center opening, however, is 3 feet above floor level. A stairway or ramp probably led up to the center entrance, which was blocked by a grate. Denied entry, the worshipers would stand on the threshold and receive oracles from the priest while viewing the statue of the god through the grate.

In the final stage of the Kedesh temple, this statue was housed in an apse at the back of the temple. Interestingly, much of the internal arrangement of the main hall has yet to be determined, as the fallen stones that nearly cover the floor have prevented excavation.

As I looked at these magnificent ruins, I felt as if I must speak for the Romans. The Romans left no direct cultural heirs (modern Italians speak Italian, not Latin). Could I be the voice of this long-vanished 046people? This temple should—must—be restored, its columns set upright, its entablature and cornice laterally supported. The consoles, coffers and other ornamental features are all there, and I have no doubt that if restored this Roman temple would be a prime tourist attraction. I mentioned this to one Israeli archaeologist, who was unenthusiastic. There are many more impressive Roman temples elsewhere, he said; go, for example, to Jerash, in Jordan. True, Jerash is vaster and more impressive. And Baalbek too. But we should know that the Romans were here as well. We cannot let their remains languish, unprotected against further vandalism and destruction. Besides, this is a little jewel of a site, not a huge city. This Roman temple sits in isolation, with a fascinating story to tell. People often ask me to name some out-of-the-way place that most tourists miss. If the Kedesh temple were restored, this is one site I’d be sure to recommend.

To make matters more intriguing, within a few steps of the temple are some huge decorated sarcophagi from nearby mausoleums. Several of the sarcophagi are doubles, constructed extra wide, with two deep troughs, evidently for a husband and wife. The relationship between the mausoleums and the temple remains a mystery. 047Some installations on the facade of the temple, on either side of the small doorways, may have been used for a libation ceremony involving some sort of liquid—wine or oil or the blood of sacrificed animals. The Tel Aviv team has argued that this ceremony may have been part of a rite that connected the world of the living with the world of the dead. Two eagles on the facade of the main hall support this idea because eagles have often been used as funerary symbols. Perhaps if the temple were restored, there would be interest in excavating the site to learn more about the relationship between the temple and the tombs that have been found on three sides of it. With each bit of knowledge, the site becomes more fascinating.

In the meantime, however, ultra-pious Jews believe that the prophet Deborah and her general Barak (see Judges 4–5) were buried here, perhaps in one of the double sarcophagi. (According to Judges 4:6, Barak was the son of Abinoam of Kedesh in Naphtali.) I asked whether it would not have been immodest for a man and woman who were not married to one another to be buried in the same sarcophagus, but my source was unable to provide a satisfactory answer. Nearby, one can also find the supposed burial sites of Naphtali and Asher, the eponymous ancestors of two of the tribes of Israel, whose allotted territories lay side by side, Asher on the coast and Naphtali to the east (see Joshua 19:24–39).

As we were leaving, entranced by what we had seen, several traditionally garbed, black-coated Jews came to pray and light memorial candles. They, too, seemed to have emerged from the 19th century, but somehow they seemed appropriate to the site.

Help!

If anyone out there would like to underwrite (or organize a group to underwrite) the restoration of the Roman temple of Kedesh, please let me hear from you. Your support will be tax deductible, and we will attempt to make arrangements with the appropriate Israeli authorities and with interested archaeologists and restorers. You can write to me at our office, at 4710 41st Street, NW, Washington, DC 20016. Or send me a fax at 202-364-2636 or an e-mail at bas@bib-arch.org.

If you want to observe the latest scientific techniques being applied in a live excavation and, five minutes later, experience what it was like to explore the Holy Land in the 19th century, before archaeology touched it and ancient sites simply lay in ruins, then go to Kedesh, in northern Israel, just south of the Lebanese border. In any circumstances, a trip to Kedesh can be jarring. But to add to the unreality, on the day we visited Tel Kedesh this past May, Israeli troops were just leaving Lebanon. We were being shown around by codirectors Sharon Herbert of […]