ReViews

016

Beneath the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem: The Archaeology and Early History of Traditional Golgotha

Shimon Gibson and Joan E. Taylor

(London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1994) 102 pp., $39.00

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is one of the most complex structures in existence, essentially because it was constructed and reconstructed in so many different periods. A long list of books and articles have tried to decipher the elements in this structure as well as to interpret them in a spiritual context. The most recent book, by Gibson and Taylor, focuses on the earliest phases of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The book’s distinguished publisher, the Palestine Exploration Fund (PEF, founded in 1869), has an illustrious pedigree in Holy Land studies. Indeed, it published some of the earliest efforts to understand this extraordinary structure.

The first chapter of the book details excavations in the Armenian chapel of St. Vartan that have already been published. These important excavations uncovered beneath the chapel a stone quarry from the First Temple period (ending 586 B.C.E.). The quarry indicates that the site lay outside Jerusalem at that time, thus aiding in a determination of the city limits in the First Temple period. Based on his excavations there, the late Father Virgilio C. Corbo concluded that the site was also quarried in the Second Temple period (ending in 70 C.E.).^a According to Corbo, in the first century C.E. the quarry was converted into a garden. This conclusion has surely been influenced by the New Testament description of Jesus’ tomb as being in a garden (John 19:41).

From their review of the evidence, Gibson and Taylor conclude that the site was quarried only in the First Temple period. But I see no reason to doubt that it was also a quarry in the Second Temple period. Gibson and Taylor do not comment on Corbo’s suggestion that it became a garden in the first century C.E.

In the late Roman period (129–130 C.E.), according to the church fathers, the emperor Hadrian built a pagan temple at the site that early Christians identified as the place of Jesus’ burial. Hadrian used ashlars (worked rectangular stones) from the destroyed Jewish Temple for his pagan temple. In this way, he managed to insult both Jews and Christians.

In the fourth century, the first Christian emperor, Constantine, built the Rotunda around Jesus’ tomb and a large basilical church in front of it, the first Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Eyewitnesses to this church write about the earlier Hadrianic temple, but there is no agreement as to who was worshiped there.

Two other chapels in the church are dealt with by the authors, the Chapel of St. Helena and the Chapel of the Invention of the Cross. According to tradition, Queen Helena, Constantine’s mother, found the remains of the True Cross in what is now the Chapel of the Invention of the Cross. Whether the walls of these chapels should be dated to the 11th or 12th century is unclear (Corbo opts for a 12th-century date, with which our authors agree), but there is no doubt that they are medieval.

My own belief is that the legend of St. Helena’s finding the True Cross originated only in the 11th century. The entire church was destroyed in 1009 by the Fatimid caliph Hakim, who employed wrecking crews to destroy the walls systematically until the debris covered what remained. The Crusaders who rebuilt the church faced the daunting task of converting an abandoned site into a new church. The legend of St. Helena gave them energy. St. Helena’s Chapel and the chapel where the True Cross was supposedly found were built by the Crusaders when they rebuilt the destroyed church.

The second chapter of the book discusses the famous drawing of the so-called Jerusalem Ship and the inscription beneath it, which 017has usually been read “Domine Ivimus,” or “Lord, we came.”^b The drawing was discovered on a Hadrianic wall (second century C.E.) that formed part of the substructure of Hadrian’s temple. The common interpretation has been that this wall was exposed only for a short period in the fourth century when Constantine constructed his basilical church. This then dates the ship drawing. However, Gibson and Taylor have an entirely different interpretation.

Gibson and Taylor carefully examined photographs (included in the book) of the ship and the inscription beneath it that were taken before the graffiti had been cleaned. They note “substantial differences” between the graffiti’s original condition and its appearance after cleaning by Father Emmanuele Testa. According to Gibson and Taylor, “An alarming proportion of detail that was clearly visible at the time of the discovery … seems to have disappeared.” Instead, “many of the original ship details have been either eliminated, enhanced or transformed.”

On the basis of the details they see in the pre-cleaning photographs, Gibson and Taylor date the ship to the first to second century C.E. If they are correct, the pilgrim who wrote the inscription and drew the boat may have been a Jew coming to the Temple before it was destroyed by the Romans in 70 C.E. (other scholars have ascribed the graffiti to a Christian pilgrim). Gibson and Taylor do not explain, however, how the stone bearing the ship drawing and inscription came to its present site.

They suggest that the drawing and inscription may have been made by a merchant or a group of merchants. They would translate the first word in the inscription (Domine) as referring to the master of the vessel or its owner.

I continue to believe that Domine refers to Jesus and that the inscription is theological. A recent article in the Palestine Exploration Quarterly, however, suggests an entirely different reading of the letters in the inscription, on the basis of which it is said to be a pagan inscription.^c

The second half of Gibson and Taylor’s book provides valuable information drawn from the PEF archives about the quarries and artificial rock formations in the northern part of the Old City and in the area of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The authors try to solve long-standing questions about the plan and shape of the pagan Roman sanctuary that preceded the Constantinian structure. They also speculate as to the deity worshiped in this Roman period sanctuary. Unfortunately, despite the helpful marshaling of the literary as well as the archaeological evidence, the result is still indecisive.

Altogether, this book is a beautiful contribution not only to the study of the church but also to the study of Jerusalem. It will be a long time before there is need for another book on the church as comprehensive as this one.

Excavations By K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Volume IV

Itzak Eshel and Kay Prag (editors)

(Oxford University Press, 1995) 278 pp., $65.00

In her excavations in the 1960s on the eastern slope of the City of David, the oldest inhabited part of Jerusalem, British archaeologist Kathleen Kenyon found two caves just outside the eighth-century B.C.E. city wall. Both contained enormous quantities of pottery, including many animal and human figurines. This led her to conclude that the caves were cult sites of an unorthodox, extramural cult. She interpreted the huge pottery deposits as favissae, repositories of cult objects no longer usable. This interpretation was supported by her interpretation of two stone pillars in a room in front of one of the caves: She regarded them as masseboth, cultic standing stones. She interpreted a small squarish structure on a terrace above this room as, perhaps, an altar.

Kenyon died in 1978 without having written a final report on this extraordinarily important excavation. The British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem, of which Kenyon served as director for many years, committed itself to completing and publishing the final report. The school has admirably lived up to that commitment, although, as the current chairman has lamented, “Publication has proved to be a far longer process than had been hoped.” Volume I appeared in 1985,^d Volume II in 1990.

The third volume of a projected five (Volume IV, reviewed here, has been published prior to Volume III) discusses the two caves mentioned above. Instead of a unified presentation, however, the discussion consists of papers by a number of scholars taking different approaches. The longest, by Itzak 018Eshel, brings the latest statistical methods to bear on the interpretation of the site.

Eshel analyzes the artifacts by their “typo-functional character.” He then compares the results with the same kind of analysis of artifacts from other sites.

Thus, he classifies the pots as bowls, kraters, platters, cooking pots, jugs, juglets, jars, lamps and miscellaneous, and computes the percentage of each type. He finds the same distribution in Cave I and Cave II. In Cave II, however, there were no figurines (with perhaps one exception). Nor were there cult offering pots or dedicatory or libation items, as have been found at other sites. Eshel concludes that the pottery in Cave II is normal domestic pottery, “clearly connected … to utilitarian and household use.” The only unusual aspect is the size of the collection (nearly 300 items). This he accounts for by suggesting that the site might have been “a storage place used by a merchant or trader specializing in household utensils.” Another possibility, according to Eshel: The site might have been “connected to the domestic functions performed there by the local Judean royal administration.”

Cave I is more difficult to explain away in this manner because, in addition to the same distribution of domestic pottery as was found in the earlier-excavated Cave II, Cave I contained, according to Eshel’s numbering, 59 fragmentary terra-cotta figurines of humans and animals. Eshel notes that according to Kenyon’s preliminary publication, the number was more than seven times larger—429!

Eshel wryly observes, “Our impression is that this inflated number, against the registration data of the expedition itself, contributed to Kenyon’s preliminary interpretation of the find groups and the cave structures as a cult place.”

Using the lower figure (59), the cult-type objects (which also included three incense stands, two rattles and three chalices) formed less than five percent of the entire group of artifacts from Cave I. Eshel then compares this with other domestic pottery groups from other sites—Samaria, Ramat Rahel, Beersheba, En-Gedi and Tell Beit Mirsim; the distribution (percentages) is very similar, including the presence of figurines and other cult items. He concludes:

“All these [cult] items together do not seem to influence significantly the typo-functional character of the cave find group, especially against the functional nature of the 1200 [clearly domestic] pottery units. Therefore we suggest that these few ‘cult’ pottery items [from Cave I], even with the figurine fragments, could be considered as an integral part of the normal domestic household range at that time … Both caves were probably connected with a normal domestic storage function for household pots and utensils.”

Although Eshel does not deal with the supposed masseboth (standing stones) and altar, others have suggested that the former are simply supports for an upper story and the latter could have served a domestic function.

Clever? Convincing? Seems so. But wait. In the same volume, we are told that Kenyon found that the standing stones were “not structural to the building.” According to T.A. Holland’s chapter, an incense stand from Cave I “was not for domestic use.” He also observes that not a single example of a complete figurine was found, noting that “in ritual practice [certain types of figurines] had to be broken to symbolize an expiatory offering.” In addition, some bowls from Cave I “still had the remains of animal bones within them which is further proof that the cave was a repository of ritual gifts.”

Another problem: We can’t even get an accurate count of the number of figurines. Eshel says 59. Holland says 93. The difference is caused by the way small fragments and joins are counted and whether finds from the “porch” area, outside the cave, are included in the count.

Kay Prag, in a summary chapter, comes down uncertainly: “Whether [the function of the site] is domestic, commercial, official administration, guest house or popular cult function is debatable.”

This beautifully produced volume is a fine example of why archaeological interpretation is so difficult. I confess to a certain discouragement that with all the analyses available through modern technology—pages and pages of charts, plans, drawings, graphs and lists—so little clarity has resulted. I am reminded of Horace’s dictum: “Parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus” (Mountains are in labor, a ridiculous mouse is born). But this is much too harsh a judgment.

The Dead Sea Scrolls Today

James C. VanderKam

(Grand Rapids/London: W. B. Eerdmans/SPCK, 1994) 208 pp., $12.99, paper

An author writing on the Dead Sea Scrolls must choose whether to emphasize the story of their discovery or the history of scroll scholarship, the archaeology of the site or the texts, the Biblical texts or the non-Biblical texts, their significance for understanding the Hebrew Bible or Christian Scripture, Second Temple Judaism or early Christianity, and whether to summarize a few documents in some detail or many in fewer strokes.

James C. VanderKam, a well-known scholar of Second Temple Judaism and of the scrolls in particular, carefully navigated among these potential hazards in producing The Dead Sea Scrolls Today. He chose to touch upon as many aspects of the scrolls as possible in this introductory presentation. He briefly reviews the discovery of the scrolls as well as the archaeology of the ruins of Qumran, their identification, and the scientific and other evidence employed to establish a chronological framework for them. In all of these treatments, VanderKam’s discussion is current, showing that he is conversant with both standard theories and those outside the mainstream. He concludes the book with a fair-minded discussion of the controversies over publication of the scrolls.

I found VanderKam’s summary of the contents of the manuscripts valuable, if a little sketchy. However, a fuller description of the texts might have taken space away from the synthetic aspects of the volume. (Actually, a few texts are omitted from his survey; most of these are either quite fragmentary or have not yet been published officially.)

In identifying the sect that composed the scrolls, VanderKam remains an adherent of the Essene hypothesis, which has dominated Qumran research almost from the beginning. VanderKam presents the evidence in favor of this theory, but also points out the problems that result from attempts to identify the Qumran group with the Essenes as decribed by Josephus and other ancient writers. VanderKam opts, quite plausibly, to minimize the difficulties in correlating the scrolls with other ancient sources and to stress the strong likelihood of the Essene hypothesis. His subsequent chapter on the history and beliefs of the Qumran group is appropriately grounded in that hypothesis.

In drawing attention, furthermore, to two other proposed identifications, the Sadducee-origin theory of Lawrence H. Schiffman and the Jerusalem-origin theory of Norman Golb, VanderKam tries to demonstrate why his reading of the data is superior to theirs. While I share VanderKam’s assessment that Golb’s position is implausible, I am not certain that Schiffman’s can be so easily dismissed as, in VanderKam’s words, “not a genuine challenge to the Essene hypothesis.” It may be an issue of semantics, but, if Schiffman is to some degree correct, the Essene hypothesis will need to be revised. For this reviewer, the matter still remains unresolved.

VanderKam’s chapter on the importance of the scrolls for research on the Hebrew Bible is judiciously and clearly written. He spends a good deal of space on the evidence for the Biblical canon in antiquity generally and at Qumran in particular. I would have preferred to focus this comparatively lengthy discussion on an analysis of the literature considered authoritative at Qumran and to stress the connection between the development of the Biblical text and the development of Biblical commentary.

VanderKam shows how much of the early sensationalistic publicity about the 068relationship between the scrolls and early Christianity was just that, and how almost all contemporary scholars reject attempts to place the scrolls and Christianity in close proximity. Nevertheless, VanderKam considers how certain aspects of the scrolls can enlighten our understanding of some early Christian material. The scrolls enhance our understanding of the forms of Judaism prevalent when Christianity came into being.

When I began teaching the scrolls about a decade and a half ago, Geza Vermes’s synthetic treatment, The Dead Sea Scrolls: Qumran in Perspective (Fortress, 1981), was the best available short volume to supplement the texts of the scrolls themselves. If I had to choose an introductory volume for students in a survey course in Second Temple history now, I would select The Dead Sea Scrolls Today.

Jericho: Dreams, Ruins, Phantoms

Robert Ruby

(New York: Henry Holt, 1995) 350 pp. + 13 black-and-white photos, $25

Edward Robinson, the pioneering Biblical geographer, stood atop Tell es-Sultan in 1838 and scanned the Jordan Valley in vain for the ruins of ancient Jericho. He never suspected that the object of his search lay within the 65-foot-high mound beneath his feet. Clues abounded in the form of mudbricks and potsherds, but Robinson and others were oblivious. They “had trained [themselves] to think in stone” rather than in mudbrick and expected to find the monumental remains of a great city appropriate to the Biblical narrative. It took another 30 years before Charles Warren (of Warren’s Shaft fame) recognized the mound as artificial and conducted a small excavation.

069

Vignettes such as the above suffuse the early history of archaeology in the Holy Land, and Robert Ruby makes good use of them in this wide-ranging history. A former Jerusalem bureau chief for the Baltimore Sun, Ruby has firsthand knowledge of the area and a much better prose style than most academics. He seems, however, to have intended the book to cash in on the publicity over the return of Jericho to Palestinian control. Consequently, Jericho is an awkward fusion of personal travelogue, ethnography, politics and Biblical archaeology. Perhaps due to a lack of material, Ruby sketches the lives of virtually every explorer and archaeologist connected with the site. This makes the book largely a history of the Palestine Exploration Fund, the British organization that conducted most of the early archaeological exploration of the Holy Land. In many ways, however, this is the most interesting part of the book.

Jericho’s biggest flaw is its flighty narrative. Ruby seems to follow no plan as he jumps back and forth among various time periods and recounts the lives of the historical figures in spurts. The result obscures the connections between events, causes occasional confusion and dissipates the narrative momentum.

The worst example occurs less than half-way into the book when Ruby summarizes the modern consensus view that no Israelite conquest occurred in Jericho and that the major destruction (to the level known as City IV) happened in 1560 B.C. This is too early for the Biblical date of about 1420 B.C., let alone for the scholarly date of Israel’s emergence in Canaan in about 1250 B.C. Even for those of us who already know “how the story ends,” this premature revelation induces a feeling of anticlimax that makes the rest of the book much less compelling than it might have been.

Although Ruby cites BAR several times, he strangely omits mention of Bryant G. Wood’s controversial redating of Jericho’s “City IV” destruction to about 1400 B.C., which places it in agreement with the Bible.^e Whatever the merit of Wood’s work, it is clearly part of the Jericho story. Since Ruby can hardly be unaware of Wood’s redating (publicized, among others, by Time), one suspects that he omitted it to avoid casting any doubt on the modern scholarly consensus.

Readers who want unadulterated Biblical archaeology should look elsewhere, but those who are attracted to Ruby’s additions of travelogue and ethno-political history may find Jericho mildly interesting and educational.

Beneath the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem: The Archaeology and Early History of Traditional Golgotha

Shimon Gibson and Joan E. Taylor

(London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1994) 102 pp., $39.00