How many tribes of Israel are identified in the Bible?

Answer: Between 10 and 14

We tend to think of the “12 tribes of Israel” as a fixed formula in the Bible. The most basic expression of this is the list of Jacob’s 12 sons in Genesis, who are understood to be the eponymous ancestors of the tribes (see, e.g., 35:22–26): Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zebulun, Joseph, and Benjamin.

The problem, however, is that throughout the canon, as the list of tribes is repeated more than 20 times in various contexts, both the number and the identities of the tribes vary. In Numbers 1:5–15, for example, Levi is omitted from the list—but the number 12 is maintained because Joseph is split into two tribes, Manasseh and Ephraim.

Elsewhere, the number increases, such as in Joshua 21:4–7, where Levi, Ephraim, and Manasseh are all included, and Manasseh is split further into two half-tribes, one in the land of Israel and one across the Jordan River in Bashan—a total of 14 groups.

At times the number decreases as well. In the Song of Deborah in Judges 5, for instance, a total of ten tribes is mentioned: the list omits Judah, Simeon, Levi, Gad, and Manasseh, but includes Ephraim as well as two other groups, Machir and Gilead.

In antiquity, the number 12 held special significance and represented wholeness or completeness—think, for instance, of Jesus’s 12 disciples. This likely explains the staying power of the notion of the “12 tribes,” even when that number was not precisely followed in every instance in the Bible.

COURTESY EMIL ALADJEM, ISRAEL ANTIQUITIES AUTHORITY

In the Northern Negev, at the crossroads of ancient trade routes connecting Egypt and the Levant to the Arabian Peninsula, archaeologists with the Israel Antiquities Authority discovered a mysterious tomb complex dating to sometime between the seventh and fifth centuries BCE. Evidence from the tombs indicates that caravans from as far away as South Arabia (modern Yemen) traversed the area to ply their wares, including frankincense, myrrh, and possibly even trafficked humans.

The complex’s two tombs were separated by an open courtyard. Their interiors were constructed as square burial chambers built of roughly cut stones, with stepped or domed ceilings supported by pillars. Together, the tombs held the bodies and grave goods of about 60 individuals.

Within the tombs, excavators discovered a wide variety of items, including Judahite and Edomite pottery, Egyptian amulets and scarabs, alabaster vessels, flint arrowheads, stone incense burners, copper and silver jewelry, semiprecious stone beads, and rare seashells. The alabaster vessels would have been used to transport frankincense and myrrh, as alabaster was ideal for preserving these aromatic resins.

Some of the items in the tombs suggest that a significant number of those buried were women. Martin Pasternak, the director of the excavation, and Tali Erickson-Gini, a senior researcher, note that this may suggest human trafficking, which was practiced by many peoples of the region during the middle of the first millennium BCE.

COURTESY ARKADY OSTROVSKY, ISRAEL ANTIQUITIES AUTHORITY

During salvage excavations in the town of Moza just northwest of Jerusalem, an unexpected find emerged from the ground: a stone capital with a menorah carved on each of its four sides. The limestone capital, which was discovered in secondary use in the remains of a sixth- or seventh-century CE building, poses an intriguing question: How did a Jewish symbol end up in a village settled by the descendants of Roman soldiers?

“While Corinthian capitals with smooth leaves were common throughout the late Second Temple through Byzantine periods, the capital discovered at Moza exhibits truly distinctive features,” said Orit Peleg-Barkat, an archaeologist from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. “Despite being skillfully crafted, it appears to be the work of an artisan less familiar with architectural conventions. Most significantly, the upper section—traditionally adorned with a floral motif—instead features what resembles an eight-branched menorah.”

The capital was likely first used in a Roman-era building constructed between the second and fourth centuries; during this period, capitals featuring the menorah were widely used in synagogues throughout the region. What is odd in this case, however, is that there is no synagogue or other evidence of a Jewish population in Moza. According to Israel Antiquities Authority Deputy Director Yuval Baruch, “It is reasonable to surmise that this capital was brought from a destroyed site elsewhere merely to serve as useful building material.”

ALIREZA JAVAHERI, CC BY 3.0, VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

1. Palmyra, Syria
2. Skara Brae, Scotland
3. Pasargadae, Iran
4. Nimes, France
5. Delphi, Greece

Answer: (3) Pasargadae, Iran

Pasargadae was the first dynastic capital of the Achaemenid Empire, located in the Fars province of Iran about 55 miles northeast of the modern city of Shiraz. The founder of the Achaemenid Empire, Cyrus the Great (r. 559–530 BCE), established the new capital in 539, following his conquest of the Median and Babylonian empires. In the Hebrew Bible, Cyrus is credited with freeing the Judean people from Babylonian captivity (Ezra 1).

Located in the Persian heartland, Pasargadae is a UNESCO World Heritage site, dominated by this monumental raised structure. The true identity of this monument, however, was not clear until the early 20th century, when German archaeologist Ernst Herzfeld proved conclusively that the site was the Achaemenid capital and that the monument was the tomb of none other than Cyrus the Great.

Built of yellowish-white limestone, the tomb, which rises to a height of more than 35 feet, consists of a single room (cella) with a hollow gabled roof; the entire structure sits on a six-step platform. The only surviving decorations are a curved molding running around the outer base of the cella and an ornate flower sculpted above the entrance. Inside, a shallow mihrab indicates the tomb’s use as a mosque in the Middle Ages. Cyrus’s gilded sarcophagus, described by classical authors, is long lost.

PHOTO COURTESY AHMAD LASH

According to Jordan’s Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, an inscription featuring the name of the Egyptian pharaoh Ramesses III (r. 1186–1155 BCE) was discovered carved into a desert rock face near Wadi Rum in southern Jordan. In one column, the title “Son of Ra, Lord of the Akhu (transfigured spirits)” precedes a cartouche bearing the pharaoh’s birth name; in the second, his throne name is preceded by the title “King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Lord of the Two Lands.”

DRAWING COURTESY AHMAD LASH

Cartouches belonging to Ramesses III have been discovered in various places outside Egypt, along an extensive trade route that joined Egypt to the Arabian Peninsula; indeed, the carvings have helped archaeologists map the route with pinpoint accuracy. This new inscription, however, is truly special: It is the first one of its kind ever discovered in Jordan, which now links Ramesses III’s trading initiatives to other cartouches found in the Sinai, Israel, and northern Saudi Arabia.

“This is a landmark discovery that enhances our understanding of ancient connections between Egypt, Jordan, and the Arabian Peninsula,” said Lina Annab, Jordan’s Minister of Tourism and Antiquities.

ALFIO GIANNOTTI / COURTESY POMPEII ARCHAEOLOGICAL PARK

Pompeii has revealed yet another stunning secret: life-size sculptures of a couple, carved atop a tomb in the city’s Porta Sarno necropolis that was partially destroyed by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 CE.

The tomb is one of more than 50 cremation burials discovered in the necropolis and consists of four niches for the placement of cremains. When Vesuvius erupted, earthquakes caused part of the structure to collapse, which resulted in damage to the two sculpted figures, with the head of the woman breaking off entirely.

The carved figures are positioned over two of the niches, which presumably held the couple’s remains. Carved out of separate stone slabs with great technical skill, the two figures are remarkably true to life. The man stands at 5 feet 7 inches tall, while the woman is slightly taller, at 5 feet 8 inches. The man is depicted wearing a toga, which signifies his status as a Roman citizen, and the woman wears a number of rings, bracelets, and earrings.

Most remarkable of all is the aspergillum, a cluster of laurel leaves, held in the woman’s right hand. The aspergillum is known to have been used by priestesses to disperse incense in sacred spaces. Based on this element, archaeologists have identified the woman as a priestess of Ceres, the Roman goddess of agriculture and motherhood.

PHOTO GABI LARON, COURTESY THE ABEL BETH MAACAH EXCAVATIONS

Just a few tears ago, excavators working at Tel Abel Beth Maacah, near the Israel–Lebanon border, uncovered the beautifully preserved head of a statuette. Made of faience, the head is approximately 2 inches tall; it likely was originally part of a full human figure that stood up to 10 inches. The head depicts a bearded man with an elaborate hairstyle and a headband. His hair, beard, and eyes are painted black, and the headband has alternating black and gold stripes.¹

The head is securely dated to the ninth century BCE, based on radiocarbon dating of nearby olive pits and typological analysis of ceramics found in the vicinity. The room in which it was discovered—part of the citadel complex near the summit of the site—appears to have been a cultic space, with a semicircular arrangement of stones that may have surrounded a larger standing stone (now gone) that would have represented the deity.

To understand the head’s significance, archaeologists sought comparative evidence from other sites in the region. The general style and iconography of the head are similar to artistic depictions from nearby sites, including a sarcophagus on which is depicted King Ahiram of Byblos and an ivory figurine from Arslan Tash that may depict King Hazael of Aram-Damascus. Moreover, a similar but stylistically distinct faience head was discovered at Yoqneam, also in northern Israel, and another at nearby Tel Dan, although the latter has been dated a full century later.

All these examples are believed to depict royal or other high-status individuals. Given this comparative evidence, the head from Abel Beth Maacah may be an idealized representation of a king or noble. Its discovery in what may have been a cultic space could indicate that the statue was left as a votive offering in the presence of the deity. If so, the figure would have represented a royal individual making an offering.

The figure’s specific royal association, however, remains a mystery. We know very little about who ruled Abel Beth Maacah at this time. Because the site was destroyed in the late ninth century, around the time of King Hazael’s campaign, a connection to Aram-Damascus does not seem likely; but there are other polities who may have asserted authority at the site, such as the Northern Kingdom of Israel or the Phoenician city-states of Tyre and Sidon. Alternatively, Abel Beth Maacah may have had its own independent ruler. Although the faience head does not provide an answer, perhaps future discoveries will clarify which royal power fashioned this regal figure.

Jerusalem Through the Ages: From Its Beginnings to the Crusades

Keeping abreast of the ever-expanding body of scholarship on ancient Jerusalem has become a formidable task even for someone like myself who specializes in the archaeological history of the city. Consequently, anyone writing a single-volume archaeological study of Jerusalem that is both comprehensive and unafraid to engage in matters of interpretation is attempting the impossible. Yet this is precisely what Jodi Magness has achieved. Hers is a remarkably stimulating, well-written, and informative book—a boon for professionals, students, and the general public alike. Such a feat may be virtually impossible to replicate. Anyone who obtains a copy should treasure it, because it may very well be the last of its kind.

In Jerusalem Through the Ages, Magness, one of the leading archaeologists excavating in Israel today, covers a vast array of material culture associated with Jerusalem, drawing from the results of early digs in the 19th century up to the systematic scientific work being undertaken today (many of the results mentioned in the book are still unpublished). Recounting virtually everything that we know about the city from its earliest beginnings in the Neolithic period to the medieval era, Magness covers roughly 8,000 years of history. And she does so with diligence and remarkable insight, adding 82 pages of notes and 56 pages of bibliography. Yet she does not lose the student or general reader, who may not be compelled by the minutia of scholarly debates.

The book opens with an introduction on topography and sources, followed by a chapter on some of the key explorers of Jerusalem from the 19th century to the present. Magness then proceeds to examine the principal (and sometimes even obscure) archaeological discoveries of each historical period in turn—from the Middle Bronze Age to the Crusaders. There are individual chapters dedicated to Jebusite, Israelite, Judahite, post-Exilic (Persian), Hasmonean, Herodian, Roman, Byzantine, early Islamic, and Crusader Jerusalem. In an epilogue, the author also briefly touches on British Mandatory Jerusalem.

Magness naturally excels in the historical periods and subjects on which she has conducted her own extensive field-work—especially the Greco-Roman and Byzantine eras. Among the best, and full of insights, are her discussions of the Third Wall of Jerusalem and the city’s northern outskirts at the time of Aelia Capitolina—the Roman colony founded on the ruins of Jerusalem.^a

Most remarkable, however, Magness surpasses her predecessors in the balancing act of providing up-to-date scholarship together with a well-written story. In comparison, popular historian Simon Sebag Montefiore’s Jerusalem: The Biography (Vintage Books, 2011), although excellent when it comes to the history of the city, is lacking in regard to the contributions archaeology has made since the last century. Katharina Galor and Hanswulf Bloedhorn valiantly attempt to re-address this in their The Archaeology of Jerusalem: From the Origins to the Ottomans (Yale Univ. Press, 2013), but they themselves readily admit having to contend with a vast amount of information from the many digs conducted in the city and not wanting to provide “exhaustive lists and descriptions” that might compromise the clarity of their text. In this regard, Max Küchler’s Jerusalem: Ein Handbuch und Studienreiseführer zur Heiligen Stadt (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007) does try to do exactly that by providing the reader with an inexhaustible quantity of data with analysis amounting to more than 1,200 pages, which is both overwhelming and inaccessible to non-German readers. On the other hand, Andrew Lawler’s accessibly written Under Jerusalem (Doubleday, 2021) deals very specifically with the ideological and political issues behind the archaeological exploration of Jerusalem, without delving into the details of archaeological data.

It is then easy to see the exceptional value of this new book. In the future, I expect similar attempts to focus increasingly on specific historical periods and specialized subjects, while mainstream publications on ancient Jerusalem are likely to shift toward the exceedingly general and interpretative, shaped by the particular viewpoints and interests of their individual authors. Jodi Magness has carried out her task with admirable commitment and alacrity, even though, as she modestly acknowledges, “Jerusalem is so rich in remains, so incredibly layered and complex, that it is impossible to know everything about it.” I will treasure my copy.

WALTERS ART MUSEUM/CC0 1.0

The Tell Halaf reliefs are a collection of roughly 200 beautifully carved orthostats, or decorative stone slabs, discovered at the site of Tell Halaf (biblical Gozan) in northern Syria. The reliefs, which date to the tenth century BCE, originally ornamented the palace of a local ruler, Kapara, and blend Syrian and Neo-Hittite styles. At the time, the city was the center of the small Aramean kingdom of Bit Bahiani. In the late eighth century, the city became a vassal of the Assyrian Empire and was one of the places where Israelite captives were deported after the conquest of Samaria (2 Kings 17:6; 1 Chronicles 5:26).

Depicting humans, animals, and mythical beings, the reliefs were carved from black basalt and lighter-colored limestone to create contrasting and alternating colors within the palace walls. This basalt relief depicts a six-winged goddess or mythical being wearing a plumed headdress and holding a tendril or vine in each hand. Carved in cuneiform to the right of the goddess’s head is an inscription that reads “Palace of Kapara son of Hadianu.” The orthostat measures roughly 27 inches tall and 15 inches wide. It is now housed in the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, Maryland.

PETER BROWN / ALAMY STOCK PHOTO

One of the most overlooked structures at Corinth’s Roman Forum has a lot to tell us about life—and punishment—at the margins of late Roman civic life, offering us a rare and haunting picture of what it was like inside an ancient prison.

Following several destructive earthquakes that shook Corinth near the end of the fourth century CE, a series of major renovations and restorations took place in the subsequent decades. Archaeological evidence suggests that a particular series of rooms in the northwestern part of the forum, known as the Northwest Shops, were part of a larger renovation program during this time. Among these rooms, a central vaulted chamber, referred to by locals as the Boudroumi (from a Turkish word for “dungeon”), is architecturally distinctive. It was originally built in the late first or early second century alongside 15 similarly sized adjoining chambers, all originally open to the forum via a shared colonnade.

Although we’ve known of the Boudroumi since the early 20th century, when the area was first excavated by Herbert F. de Cou, its function remained uncertain. What has changed is how we interpret the space in light of previously underexplored evidence—namely, the archaeological context of reused paving slabs that form the floor of the Boudroumi and surrounding rooms, and the graffiti incised upon them.

M.D.C. LARSEN, “A PRISON IN LATE ANTIQUE CORINTH,” HESPERIA 93 (2024), FIG. 9 / COURTESY OF THE AMERICAN SCHOOL OF CLASSICAL STUDIES AT ATHENS, CORINTH EXCAVATIONS

What makes the evidence from Corinth so important? Despite literary sources suggesting that most Roman cities had a civic prison, identifying such facilities archaeologically has proven difficult. Prisons rarely carried signage. And while we have some texts and inscriptions referencing carceral experiences, we’ve lacked examples where graffiti can be securely connected to a known architectural context. In Corinth’s Boudroumi, however, the graffiti we’ve found—etched directly into pavement stones still in their original position—provide that missing link between text, context, and structure. And from these connections, a new picture of incarceration in late antique Corinth emerges.

In 1901, de Cou noted the discovery of 24 large limestone paving slabs, many broken on their edges, all laid in a consistent level across the Boudroumi and adjacent rooms. These slabs, he wrote, were part of a single, intact pavement that sealed off earlier Roman strata beneath, laid in conjunction with the late fourth-century renovations.

What caught de Cou’s attention—and ours today—were the inscriptions and images scratched into their surfaces. One reads, “☧ Lord God who separated the darkness and made light to rise through the inhabited world, repay, Godbearer, repay (punishment) of Marinos, the one who threw us in here and made us spend winter (here?) Petronia †.” (The final words are challenging and require some conjecture.) The graffito writer used Christian imagery (both a cross and a christogram), used a special abbreviation for the divine epithet (as was common in Christian scribal practice), and made an allusion to scripture (Genesis 1:4–5). Another text reads, “May the fortune of those who suffer in this lawless place prevail. Lord, do not show mercy on the one who threw us in here.” These graffiti offer a rather unique proximity to the voices of lived experience of the incarcerated in the ancient world.

Other examples, including bits of text, gameboards, and various drawings, hint further at the lived experience, rage, boredom, and personal devotion expressed inside the prison. These are not elite inscriptions. The language is colloquial. Some texts feature spelling errors or grammatical oddities, perhaps reflecting the writers’ lack of formal education. But their emotional and theological clarity is striking: These are desperate voices seeking justice, deliverance, or divine vengeance.

How do we know that the Boudroumi was used as a prison? In his unusually precise records, de Cou carefully noted that the two dozen inscribed paving slabs belonged to a single, uniform pavement laid across the area, adding that as his team worked they were “tearing up [this] late pavement.” One of his associates observed that this pavement served as a clear stratigraphic marker, separating Roman layers below from Byzantine layers above. Nearly all the slabs had at least one broken edge, indicating they were reused—spolia—from earlier contexts. It is clear that the graffiti on these slabs were inscribed only after they were repurposed to serve as paving stones: Several of the inscriptions respect the broken edges, showing the damage came first and the graffiti later. This is how we know these buildings were renovated and functioning as a prison during this later period.

The renovations give us additional clues about the key features of a prison. The Boudroumi shows evidence of a wall installed to seal the room off from the forum, accessible only through a narrow, controlled opening that allowed for very limited light and the passing of small items, such as food. One small doorway, including a locking threshold, was cut to connect the Boudroumi and the room immediately to the west. Interestingly, the Boudroumi had two stories, with the upper floor apparently maintained during its use as a prison.

Finally, the presence of captive-themed imagery just outside the building, such as the Captives’ Facade, usually thought to have been erected in 197 CE to commemorate Septimius Severus’s defeat of the Parthians, may have visually reinforced the association of the northwest corner of the forum with incarceration. Additionally, several inscriptions from the late fourth century found in the forum—particularly in the northwest corner—speak to the renovations undertaken during that time. It is likely that the repurposing of the Boudroumi and Northwest Shops into a prison was part of this urban renewal. There is also good evidence that the city’s previous prison was located in the southern aisle of the basement of the Julian basilica, across the forum to the east, which appears to have been destroyed by earthquakes around the same period. If so, the need for a new prison would follow logically from that destruction.

Secure identifications of ancient prisons are still relatively uncommon, though this is now slowly changing, and the Boudroumi site will be important in developing a typology of Roman prisons. Both the building and its graffiti provide important and interesting insight in what prisons were like in the past and what it was like to be an ancient prisoner.