When is it OK to suggest that an ancient building belonged to a particular historical figure—that is, barring an inscription saying something like “Solomon lived here”?
The best known recent example raising this question is archaeologist Eilat Mazar’s suggestion that the building she has excavated with walls 7 to 11 feet thick might well be King David’s palace in Jerusalem.a She was led to the site by geographical and Biblical clues and predicted in an article that an excavation would show that she was indeed correct.b As a result a sponsor came forward, and when she dug at the site, she found a major public building that appeared to be from King David’s time. The dating of the structure is not 100 percent certain, but that is often the case in archaeology. She has yet to find a datable floor that connects to a wall of the structure, but the pottery makes it likely that the building, or at least part of it, dates to King David’s time, according to the conventional chronology.
Although Mazar recognizes that the identification with David is not certain, she has no better suggestion. And neither does anybody else.1
Another example lies just a few feet from “David’s Palace.” In a parking lot across the road from Eilat Mazar’s site, archaeologist Doron Ben-Ami is excavating on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA). He, too, found a large public building with walls more than 16 feet thick but from the end of the Second Temple period. The IAA announced that this is probably the palace of Queen Helena of Adiabene. Queen Helena came to Jerusalem from Babylon and converted to Judaism around 30 A.D. Noted for her generosity, she is remembered in Josephus’s writings and in the Talmud for alleviating a famine in Jerusalem and for offering several presents to outfit the Temple.
The public building from the first century A.D. sits on a prime piece of real estate, just steps from the Temple Mount. The palace must have belonged to someone rich and powerful. No one from the time would seem to qualify as the owner, except Queen Helena. So far, no one has come up with a better suggestion—or any suggestion at all.
Cautious archaeologists are often reluctant to make these kinds of identifications. It can become a case of “I’m more cautious than you,” however. It seems to me that the public is entitled to reasonably grounded, properly qualified speculation from archaeologists. Archaeologists have no hesitancy speculating about whether a pottery vessel was brought to the site by an immigrant from another culture or was a local adaptation by the descendants of immigrants. It’s mostly Biblical connections that strike fear in an archaeologist’s heart.
That brings me to my last example. Last summer I visited Tel Dor on the Mediterranean coast of Israel. The site was excavated for many years by Ephraim Stern of the Hebrew University. Recently Stern retired and turned the reins to his deputies Ilan Sharon and Ayelet Gilboa. The day I was at the site, Ilan showed me a wall several feet thick that had just been partially exposed by a crew 070led by Elizabeth Bloch-Smith of Villanova University. The wall dates to the period archaeologists call Iron Age IIa (the time of King Solomon, according to the conventional chronology).
Tel Dor is located on a dramatic promontory overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. It is hard to imagine a more desirable spot at Dor for an ancient palace. The site where the wall sits is not only beautiful, but is calmed by a soft sea breeze. No peasant settled here, you may be sure. The wall clearly belonged to the chief honcho of Dor at the time.
So who was it? According to the Bible Dor was the capital of one of the 12 districts into which King Solomon divided his kingdom. The leader of the district of Dor was Ben-Abinadab, and he married Solomon’s daughter Taphath (1 Kings 4:11).
“Here is Taphath’s palace,” Ilan joked with me as we looked down on Elizabeth cleaning the wall in preparation for a picture. But we then had a serious discussion. The Bible may be wrong. Maybe Dor wasn’t a district capital. Maybe Ben-Abinadab didn’t really marry Solomon’s daughter. But Ilan had no better suggestion.
Before the season ended, a little more of the wall was exposed. Next year, still more may be found. When will Ilan be permitted to speculate? I don’t know; but, he said with a smile, he is not yet ready to call a press conference to announce the discovery of Solomon’s daughter’s palace.
When is it OK to suggest that an ancient building belonged to a particular historical figure—that is, barring an inscription saying something like “Solomon lived here”?
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A gang of four from Tel Aviv University has written a lengthy article attacking Mazar’s conclusions, but they have come up with no better suggestion. See Israel Finkelstein, Ze’ev Herzog, Lily Singer-Avitz and David Ussishkin, “Has King David’s Palace Been Found?” Tel Aviv 34 (2007), p. 134. They specifically criticize Mazar for using the Bible to help interpret difficult archaeological finds. “The biblical text,” they charge, “dominates this field operation, not archaeology.” Yet they themselves rely on “circumstantial evidence” (their words) to suggest possible datings.
