Material Culture Matters: Essays on the Archaeology of the Southern Levant in Honor of Seymour Gitin 9781575068787

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Material Culture Matters

Material Culture Matters Essays on the Archaeology of the Southern Levant in Honor of Seymour Gitin

Edited by

John R. Spencer, Robert A. Mullins, and Aaron J. Brody

Published on behalf of the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeology by

Eisenbrauns Winona Lake, Indiana 2014

© 2014 by Eisenbrauns Inc. All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America www.eisenbrauns.com

A special note of appreciation goes to the Bodri Foundation, San Francisco, California, for its generous support, without which this volume could not have been published

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Material culture matters : essays on the archaeology of the Southern Levant in honor of Seymour Gitin / edited by John R. Spencer, Aaron J. Brody, and Robert A. Mullins.    pages cm Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-1-57506-298-3 (hardback : alkaline paper) 1. Israel—Antiquities.  2. Palestine—Antiquities.  3. Material culture—Israel—History—To 1500.  4.  Material culture—Palestine— History—To 1500.  5.  Gitin, Seymour.  6.  Excavations (Archaeology)— Israel.  7.  Excavations (Archaeology)—Palestine.  8.  Social archaeology— Israel.  9.  Social archaeology—Palestine.  I.  Spencer, John R. ( John Richard), 1945–  II.  Brody, Aaron Jed.  III. Mullins, Robert A.  IV.  W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research. DS111.1.M36 2014 933—dc23 2014005587

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.481984.♾™

Contents Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  vii Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi John R. Spencer Sy Gitin: A Fellow’s Reminiscences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   xvi Aaron J. Brody Personal Reminiscences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xviii Robert A. Mullins Bibliography of Seymour Gitin—Update . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   xxi

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   Marwan Abu Khalaf

1

Marked Jar Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   17 David Ben-Shlomo The Southwestern Border of Judah in the Ninth and Eighth Centuries b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jeffrey A. Blakely, James W. Hardin, and Daniel M. Master

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Interregional Interaction in the Late Iron Age: Phoenician and Other Foreign Goods from Tell en-Nasbeh . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   Aaron Brody

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Three Middle Bronze II Burials from Tel Zahara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   69 Susan L. Cohen and Wiesław Więckowski A Late Iron Age Cult Stand from Gezer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   Garth Gilmour

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Tomb Raiding in Western Ramallah Province, Palestine: An Ethnographic Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   95 Salah Hussein al-Houdalieh Lambs to the Slaughter: Late Iron Age Cultic Orientations at Philistine Ekron . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 Edward F. Maher Competing Material Culture: Philistine Settlement at Tel Miqne–Ekron in the Early Iron Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Laura B. Mazow v

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Mother-and-Child Figurines in the Levant from the Late Bronze Age through the Persian Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Beth Alpert Nakhai The Evolution of the Sacred Area at Tell es-Sultan/Jericho . . . . . . . . . . 199 Hani Nur el-Din “Ashdod Ware” from Ekron Stratum IV: Degenerated and Late Philistine Decorated Ware . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 Steven M. Ortiz New Perspectives on the Chalcolithic Period in the Galilee: Investigations at the Site of Marj Rabba . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 Yorke M. Rowan and Morag M. Kersel An Overview of Iron Age Gaza in Light of the Archaeological Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Moain Sadeq Tobacco Pipes and the Ophir Expedition to Southern Sinai: Archaeological Evidence of Tobacco Smoking among 18th- and 20th-Century Bedouin Squatters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Benjamin Adam Saidel King David in Mujīr al-Dīn’s Fifteenth-Century History of Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Robert Schick An Iron Age II Tomb at ʿAnata . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Hamdan Taha The Ups and Downs of Settlement Patterns: Why Sites Fluctuate . . . . . . . 295 Joe Uziel, Itzhaq Shai, and Deborah Cassuto The Horned Stands from Tell Afis and Hazor and the “Crowns” from Nahal Mishmar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Alexander Zukerman

Contributors Note: This list includes all of the contributors to this volume, their education, their current affiliation, and their fellowships at the Albright Institute under Dr. Sy Gitin’s Directorship.

Marwan Abu Khalaf (Ph.D., Oxford University) is an Associate Professor at Al-Quds University in Jerusalem. He was an AIAR Senior Research Fellow (1996–2013). David Ben-Shlomo (Ph.D., Hebrew University) is a researcher in the Hebrew University and Albright Institute. He was an AIAR Research Fellow (1999–2008) and an AIAR Senior Research Fellow (2009–13). Jeffrey A. Blakely (Ph.D., University of Pennsylvania) is an Adjunct Professor in the Department of Hebrew and Semitic Studies at the University of Wisconsin– Madison. He was the Annual Professor at the Albright Institute (1996–97). He has served both as an officer and a trustee of ASOR for a number of terms. Aaron J. Brody (Ph.D., Harvard University) is the Robert and Kathryn Riddell Associate Professor of Bible and Archaeology and Director of the Bade Museum of Biblical Archaeology at Pacific School of Religion. He was the George A. Barton Fellow (1992–93), the Dorot Foundation Fellow (1993), and a United States Information Agency Fellow (1995–96). He is also a member of the Board of Trustees of the Albright Institute. Deborah Cassuto (M.A., Bar-Ilan University) is a Ph.D. candidate at Bar Ilan University in the Martin (Szusz) Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology. She has been the Ernest S. Frerichs Fellow / Program Coordinator (2012–14) and was an AIAR Research Fellow (2005–12). Susan L. Cohen (Ph.D., Harvard University) is an Associate Professor in the Department of History, Philosophy, and Religious Studies at Montana State University. She was an Educational and Cultural Affairs Fellow (2000–2001) and an AIAR Associate Research Fellow (2001–8). She is also a member of the Board of Trustees of the Albright Institute. Garth Gilmour (Ph.D., Oxford University) is a Research Associate at the Department of Old and New Testaments at the University of Stellenbosch and at the Institute of Archaeology at the University of Oxford, and Administrator of the European Association for Jewish Studies, based at Yarnton Manor in Oxford. He was the George A. Barton Fellow at the Albright Institute (1995), a Miqne Fellow (2000– 2001), and an AIAR Senior Fellow (2002–14). vii

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James W. Hardin (Ph.D., University of Arizona) is an Associate Professor of Anthropology and Near Eastern Archaeology in the Department of Anthropology and Middle Eastern Cultures at Mississippi State University and is a Senior Research Associate in the Cobb Institute of Archaeology. He was a United States Information Agency Fellow (1994–95). Salah H. al-Houdalieh (Ph.D., Heidelberg University) is Professor of Archaeology at Al-Quds University in Jerusalem. He was an AIAR Post-Doctoral Fellow (2000– 2011) and an AIAR Senior Fellow (2011–12). Morag M. Kersel (Ph.D., University of Cambridge) is Assistant Professor in the Department of Anthropology at DePaul University (Chicago). She was an Educational and Cultural Affairs Fellow (2003–4) and an AIAR Senior Fellow (2013–14). Edward F. Maher (Ph.D., University of Illinois–Chicago) is a Research Associate at the Field Museum of Natural History (Chicago, IL) and Lecturer in Anthropology at North Central College (Naperville, IL). He was the George A. Barton Fellow (2000–2001) and a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellow (2004, 2010). Maher participated in the excavations at Tel Miqne–Ekron (1993–96) and was the first recipient of the Sean W. Dever Memorial Prize (2000). Daniel M. Master (Ph.D., Harvard University) is a Professor of Archaeology at Wheaton College. He was a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellow (2008–9). Laura B. Mazow (Ph.D., University of Arizona) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Anthropology at East Carolina University. She was a United States Information Agency Junior Research Fellow (1997–98), the Samuel H. Kress Foundation Fellow (1998–99), an Educational and Cultural Affairs Fellow (2002–3), the George A. Barton Fellow (2003–4), a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellow (2012), an AIAR Post-Doctoral Fellow (2009–11), and an AIAR Senior Fellow (2011–14). Robert A. Mullins (Ph.D., Hebrew University) is an Associate Professor of Biblical Studies at Azusa Pacific University. He was a United States Information Agency Junior Research Fellow (1997–98), the James A. Montgomery Fellow (1998–2000), the Ernest S. Frerichs Fellow/Program Coordinator (2000–2002), and a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellow (2004). Beth Alpert Nakhai (Ph.D., University of Arizona) is an Associate Professor in the Arizona Center for Judaic Studies and in the School of Anthropology at the University of Arizona. She serves on Albright’s Sean W. Dever Memorial Prize Committee (2001–13) and was an AIAR Senior Fellow (2007–8). She worked with Trude Dothan and Sy Gitin on the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation Project (1981–85).

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Hani Nur el-Din (Ph.D., École Pratique des Hautes Études, the Sorbonne), is an Assistant Professor of Archaeology at the Institute of Archaeology, Al-Quds University in Jerusalem. He was an AIAR Research Fellow (1989–96), an AIAR Post-Doctoral Fellow (1997–2001), and an AIAR Senior Research Fellow (2001–14). Steven M. Ortiz (Ph.D., University of Arizona) is Professor of Archaeology and Biblical Backgrounds and Director of the Charles D. Tandy Institute for Archaeology at the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary (Fort Worth, TX). He was a United States Information Agency Junior Fellow (1994–95), the George A. Barton Fellow (1995–96), and an AIAR Research Fellow (1989–90). He is currently a co-director of the Tel Gezer Excavation Project affiliated with the Albright/ASOR. Yorke M. Rowan (Ph.D., University of Texas, Austin) is a Research Associate at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. He was a Council of American Overseas Research Centers, Advanced Multi-Country Research Fellow (1994– 95), a United States Information Agency Junior Research Fellow (1999–2000), a National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) Fellow (1999–2000), an Educational and Cultural Affairs Fellow (2007–8), and a NEH Fellow (2013–14). He has also served as a member of the Board of Trustees of the Albright Institute. Moain Sadeq (Ph.D., Free University of Berlin) is Professor of History and Archaeology at Qatar University, an adjunct professor at the University of Toronto, and a Research Associate at the University of Chicago. He was the founding chair of the Palestinian Department of Antiquities in Gaza, was cofounder of Al-Aqsa University in Gaza, and has taught archaeology and art history in Palestine and North America. Benjamin A. Saidel (Ph.D., Harvard University) is an Associate Professor of Anthropology at East Carolina University. He was a United States Information Agency Junior Research Fellow (1993–94), the George A. Barton Fellow (1998–99), an AIAR Post-Doctoral Fellow (1999–2000), a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellow (2000–2001), the Ernest S. Frerichs Fellow/Program Director (2002–5), and an AIAR Senior Fellow (2009–14). He is also a member of the Board of Trustees of the Albright Institute. Robert Schick (Ph.D., University of Chicago) is an independent researcher. He was the Islamic Studies Fellow (1994–95), a National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) Fellow (1995–96), the Islamic Studies Fellow (1996–99), and a NEH Fellow (2008–9). Itzhaq Shai (Ph.D., Bar-Ilan University) is a Senior Lecturer of Archaeology at the Israel Heritage Department at Ariel University, Israel, and the director of the Tel Burna Archaeological Project. He was an AIAR Post-Doctoral Fellow (2006–12).

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John R. Spencer (Ph.D., University of Chicago) is a Professor of Biblical Studies in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies at John Carroll University (Cleveland, OH). He was the Annual Professor at the Albright Institute in (1984–85) and a United States Information Agency Research Fellow (1995). He is also an officer and member of the Board of Trustees of the Albright Institute. Hamdan Taha (Ph.D., Free University of Berlin) is Deputy Minister of the Palestinian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities. He was the Getty Research Exchange Fellow (2009–10) and an AIAR Senior Fellow (1996–2013). Joe Uziel (Ph.D., Bar-Ilan University) is a field archaeologist with the Jerusalem District of the Israel Antiquities Authority. He was the Ernest S. Frerichs Fellow / Program Coordinator (2008–12), an AIAR Post-Doctoral Fellow (2012–13), and an AIAR Senior Fellow (2013–14). Wiesław Więckowski (Ph.D., University of Warsaw) is an Associate Professor at the Institute of Archaeology in the University of Warsaw, Poland. He was an AIAR Research Fellow (2004–05), working for the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon. Alexander Zukerman (Hebrew University) is an independent researcher. He was an AIAR Research Fellow (2001–14).

Preface John R. Spencer John Carroll University

Dr. Seymour Gitin’s inf luence on the field of archaeology and on those who work in this field is so noteworthy that one Festschrift is not sufficient. In 2007, Dr. Seymour Gitin was honored with a Festschrift that included contributions by colleagues wishing to acknowledge his scholarly and professional accomplishments as the Dorot Director and Professor of Archaeology at the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research and as the Co-Director of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publications Project. 1 However, there are also hundreds of research fellows who have benefited from the Albright’s programs and Sy’s mentoring. As the Director of the Albright, Sy has provided assistance and support to young and emerging scholars in the field, as is widely acknowledged. Indeed, his time and insights have been freely given and wide ranging. In gratitude, some of these young scholars and former and current fellows at the Albright Institute thought it would be fitting to publish this current volume to demonstrate both their growing scholarship and their respect for Sy. On behalf of the editors and authors, I first want to thank John Debs of the Bodri Foundation, whose generosity made the publication of this volume possible. Associated with this contribution is the support of Dan Wolk, a longtime friend of Sy and the Albright Institute in Jerusalem. His dedication to the Institute and this project was crucial. Furthermore, one cannot forget the tireless nudging of Edna Sachar. Without her help with funding, the contributors, and some editing, this volume would never have seen the light of day. Thanks are also due to Jim Eisenbraun for his support of this project and to Beverly McCoy for her wonderful work as editor. The volume begins with the personal comments of respect and admiration for Sy Gitin by coeditors Aaron Brody and Robert Mullins, two former Albright fellows. They have also contributed significant editorial time and effort to the production of this Festschrift. I thank them for their help, diligence, and perseverance. The subsequent articles in this volume ref lect the diversity of backgrounds and traditions of the authors (5 Palestinian, 5 Israeli, 1 South African, and 12 North American) 1.  S. W. Crawford, A. Ben-Tor, J. P. Dessel, W. G. Dever, A. Mazar, and J. Aviram (eds.), “Up to the Gates of Ekron”: Essays on the Archaeology and History of the Eastern Mediterranean in Honor of Seymour Gitin ( Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2007).

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and speak to Sy’s commitment to the younger members of the scholarly community that is the Albright. In addition, the articles are varied in subject, approach, methodology, and time frame. Thus, we felt it best simply to organize them in alphabetical sequence by author’s last name. Marwan Abu Khalaf ’s article, “The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine,” offers insight into an area that has rarely been studied; pottery from this Umayyad period has often been ignored in the rush to find “biblical” materials. He provides a list of sites where Umayyad pottery has been found and then examines the pottery by type, form, and ware. Abu Khalaf clarifies our understanding of Umayyad pottery and opens the door for future study in this area. There are several essays in this volume that draw upon the authors’ experiences as excavators at the Tel Miqne–Ekron project directed by Sy Gitin and Trudy Dothan. These articles demonstrate Sy’s mentoring both in the field and in offering materials from the excavation for publication by these younger scholars. One example is David Ben-Shlomo’s article, “Marked Jar Handles from Tel Miqne– Ekron.” Ben-Shlomo looks at pottery vessels with incised and impressed marks; he examines the variety of marks, the types of vessels, the petrography of the vessels, and the parallels at other sites in the eastern Mediterranean. All of this contributes to our understanding of the purpose and use of these marks in anticipation of more exploration of this topic. “The Southwestern Border of Judah in the Ninth and Eighth Centuries b.c.e.” by Jeffrey Blakely, James Hardin, and Daniel Master draws upon the archaeological experience and historical knowledge of the authors. They seek to rethink and redefine the probable southwestern limits of the Judahite kingdom. The essay will likely set the stage for further discussion of these issues. In “Interregional Interaction in the Late Iron Age,” Aaron Brody draws upon artifacts from Tell en-Nasbeh to argue for these connections. These artifacts come from archives of the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, with which W. F. Badè, C. C. McCown, and J. C. Wampler, the early excavators of the site, were associated. Analysis of these once “lost” artifacts adds to our insight into Phoenician inf luence and trade patterns in the Iron Age and demonstrates these artifacts’ usefulness long after their excavation. Susan Cohen and Wiesław Więckowski present a study on “Three Middle Bronze II Burials from Tel Zahara.” In spite of the poor conditions of the burials, the authors provide an important analysis of these finds and then link the results to larger questions of changing burial practices in MB I and MB II and of the differences between rural and urban burial practices. The authors show that valuable information can be gleaned even from poorly preserved burials. In Garth Gilmour’s article, “A Late Iron Age Cult Stand from Gezer,” this stand along with other Iron IIC examples from Ashdod, Tel Miqne–Ekron, Jerusalem, and Tel Halif are discussed. This essay provides an excellent analysis of the role and func-

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tion of these stands in cultic activities and helps to illuminate the “popular” religion of the time. In “Tomb Raiding in Western Ramallah Province, Palestine: An Ethnographic Study,” Salah Hussein al-Houdalieh provides an important and timely investigation of the looting of artifacts. Not only does he interview the “raiders,” but he also examines the sociological, financial, and cultural elements that are behind this practice. This innovative and informative investigation makes a substantial contribution to our understanding of these issues. As with several of the authors, Edward Maher draws upon his experiences as an excavator at Tel Miqne–Ekron. Maher’s article, “Lambs to the Slaughter: Late Iron Age Cultic Orientations at Philistine Ekron,” reports on the faunal remains from the temple complex at Miqne-Ekron. These finds illuminate the cultic practices, specifically animal sacrifice, of this Philistine community and help to reconstruct ritual life in the ancient city. The essay includes comparisons with data from other sites of the Iron Age, which add to the value of the study. Laura Mazow, also focusing on the Philistines and drawing upon her experience at Miqne-Ekron, offers “Competing Material Culture: Philistine Settlement at Tel Miqne–Ekron in the Early Iron Age.” Mazow is especially concerned with exploring the “contextual differences” among materials found at Philistine settlements. This contextual focus is used to examine the consumption patterns at Miqne in four areas: architectural design, use of specific cooking vessels, selection of fine wares, and foundation deposits. This article demonstrates the benefits of this approach to studying archaeological finds. “Mother-and-Child Figurines in the Levant from the Late Bronze Age through the Persian Period” by Beth Alpert Nakhai is a four-part article. Nakhai first asks whether figurines can be interpreted. She then examines feminist theory and concepts of motherhood as they apply to the mother-and-child figurines. The main body of the paper is a typology of these figurines, looking at features such as pregnancy, parturition, holding of children, and nursing of children. The summary brings together a number of issues, including the practice of goddess worship and the lack of information about rituals associated with these figurines. Nakhai creates a helpful model for approaching the study of figurines. Hani Nur el-Din, in his article “The Evolution of the Sacred Area at Tell es-Sultan/ Jericho,” argues for the continuity of the sacred area at Jericho from the Natufian period to the end of the Early Bronze Age. He primarily draws on the earlier excavations by Garstang and Kenyon and seeks to harmonize their reports on the sacred area. Nur el-Din admits that it is not possible to define the nature of the cultic practices at the site but argues that the sacred area has remained constant over time. This is a good example of reusing the reports of earlier excavations. Also drawing upon materials from Tel Miqne–Ekron is Steven Ortiz’s “ ‘Ashdod Ware’ from Ekron Stratum IV: Degenerated and Late Philistine Decorated Ware.”

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Ortiz compares the jugs and amphorae from Ekron with the pottery designated “Ashdod Ware” at other sites. He concludes that an early tradition of Late Philistine Decorated Ware is present at Miqne and expands our understanding of the local adaption of imported wares. Yorke Rowan and Morag Kersel offer “New Perspectives on the Chalcolithic Period in the Galilee,” an article that draws upon the results of their excavations at the site of Marj Rabba. The article reports on the 2008–10 seasons of excavations and engages in comparisons and contrasts with other Chalcolithic sites, particularly those in the Negev. In addition, the authors discuss the significance of the discovery of “Golan” vessels at the site and expand our awareness of this early period in the Galilee. Moain Sadeq’s “Overview of Iron Age Gaza in Light of the Archaeological Evidence” presents an update and summary of what we now know about Iron Age Gaza. He discusses two significant periods: the transition associated with the departure of the Egyptians and the arrival of the Philistines, and the status of Gaza as a vassal territory under Assyrian rule. He focuses on the sites of Tell el-ʿAjjul, Deir el-Balaḥ, Iblakhiyya, and Tell el-Ruqeish and comments on what we can learn from these sites in spite of their limited excavation. An essay with a much different focus is “Tobacco Pipes and the Ophir Expedition to Southern Sinai: Archaeological Evidence of Tobacco Smoking among 18th- and 20th-Century Bedouin Squatters” by Benjamin Saidel. He uses archaeological and ethnographic evidence to examine the manufacture of pipes and the use of tobacco among Bedouin. Saidel’s study of the finds from sites in the Sinai adds to our understanding of this cultural community and demonstrates the breadth of the academic interests of the fellows who have profited from the guidance of Sy Gitin at the Albright. Another article that displays the breadth of the Albright fellows’ research is “King David in Mujīr al-Dīn’s Fifteenth-Century History of Jerusalem” by Robert Schick. He explores a portion of the history of Jerusalem, Hebron, and Palestine written by an Islamic judge, which runs from creation to the 15th century. Schick looks in particular at what Mujīr al-Dīn, drawing upon the Qurʾān and Ḥadīth, wrote about King David. Schick’s article includes a translation of the Arabic manuscript, an examination of variants, and a commentary on the text, all of which bring this historical material to a larger audience. Hamdan Taha’s contribution, “An Iron Age II Tomb at Anata,” presents the results of a recent salvage excavation conducted near the village of Anata, northeast of Jerusalem. The tomb was exposed during construction, and Taha and his associates then excavated the two-chamber burial site. While the remains were meager, they do provide further evidence of Iron Age occupation and burial practices. The article also includes a helpful discussion on the identification of the site. Joel Uziel, Itzhaq Shai, and Deborah Cassuto joined together to write an article on the “The Ups and Down of Settlement Patterns: Why Sites Fluctuate.” They examine the changing size of numerous settlements in the western Shephelah and Coastal

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Plain from the Early Bronze I through the Iron II periods. Their analysis shows the many f luctuations in the size of sites and how one site may grow as another recedes. They question the suggestion that the variations are due merely to “carrying capacity” and suggest that “political, social, economic, and agricultural” factors may have had an impact on the “seesawing.” The last article in the volume is by Alexander Zukerman on “The Horned Stands from Tell Afis and Hazor and the ‘Crowns’ from Nahal Mishmar.” Zukerman first seeks to understand the function of the “horned stands” that have been discovered in Iron Age contexts at Afis and Hazor. He examines several parallels and related examples from within Canaan and from elsewhere in the ancient Near East. Furthermore, he looks at the chronologically distant finds from Nahal Mishmar and builds a strong case for the probable cultic function of these objects. Also included in this volume is an update to Sy’s bibliography. His publications through 2007 can be found in “Up to the Gates of Ekron” (see n. 1). Listed in this volume are the materials published since 2007. Finally, I want to add some of my own comments about Sy Gitin to those of my coeditors and the contributors. As Sy approaches the end of his tenure as Albright director in 2014, it is more than fitting to honor the legacy he established. His colleagues did this in the earlier Festschrift. This volume ref lects the honoring of Sy by the next generation, which Sy has been so instrumental in fostering. These are the students and fellows who have been at the Albright and benefited greatly from Sy’s tutelage. He has been a mentor to these and many more. The work of this next generation will continue to be a tribute to him and to his constant effort to provide a welcoming and nurturing environment for young and budding scholars. I have known Sy for over 30 years, and he has interacted with me in many different contexts: as a mentor early in my career, as a colleague, and as a collaborator in my work as a member and officer of the Albright Board of Directors. Throughout all of these contexts, Sy has been steadfast, helpful, and generous—concerned about the Institute, its employees, and its fellows. The Institute could not have asked for someone better at its helm or more ready to support its mission. So, on behalf of my editorial colleagues and the contributors to this volume, I want to say that this Festschrift honoring Sy has been a labor of love and respect.

Sy Gitin: A Fellow’s Reminiscences Aaron J. Brody Pacific School of Religion

I initially met Sy in the summer of 1992, a few months before I was to take up my first residency as the George A. Barton Fellow at the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research in Jerusalem. I was in the field at Ashkelon, supervising the excavation of an area on the northern slope of the site near the building later dubbed the “shrine of the silver calf.” Sy approached me, together with a group from the Tel Miqne–Ekron excavations, asked to hear about the excavation area, queried me with some pointed stratigraphic and phasing questions, and then moved on to the next area. My first impression of Sy as a leading presence in our field was confirmed when I took up residence at the Albright that fall. During my first fellowship at the Institute, I began research on my doctoral dissertation and also began my long-standing relationship with Sy as mentor, professional adviser (although he never did convince me to go to law school!), and Director of the Institute that became my home-away-from home in Israel/Palestine. I soon learned that, if a volume was not available in the Albright’s library, first to check with Sy to see if he had it in his personal library in the office before venturing out to the Rockefeller Museum, École Biblique, or the Hebrew University–Mount Scopus campus. Dressed in his signature khakis and button-down shirt (with the addition of a wool cardigan and scarf in the colder months), Sy would welcome me into his inner sanctum, discuss the volume I was seeking, and offer a few comments if he knew the work. Words of appreciation were simply responded to with his characteristic “yeah, yeah.” He was typically in his office before I tumbled downstairs for breakfast, working with few breaks until he stopped before dinnertime to check in with the fellows before departing. Sy was sometimes spotted on a break from running the Institute, pacing in the portico around the courtyard, practicing his golf swing (stretching?), and exclaiming “yeah.” I personally cannot remember if he also sang or hummed during these breaks, but I have it on good authority that, while reading pottery in the field at Miqne, he sang Christmas tunes. That in itself made me sorry not to have been part of the Miqne excavation staff. Sy crafted an unbeatable program for fellows. Field trips were often to sites that were under excavation or off-season, with the project director him/herself frequently xvi

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giving the site tour. The lecture series at the Institute was top-notch. Sy bolstered the intellectual grounding of the scholars at the Albright with tours outside the country and with official visits to sister institutions. These programs have been supported further under Sy’s initiative with named lecture series and exchange programs with research institutes in the Middle East and eastern Mediterranean. Over the next several years, I followed the expansion of the Albright’s fellowship program and the improvements to the facility itself under Sy’s careful watch: from small projects, such as new chairs in the garden and new curtains, to larger renovations, such as the new fence or window shutters. The recent remodeling of major parts of the Institute involves projects that would not have succeeded without Sy’s leadership and tenacity, as well as his love for the aging historical facility that needed to be shepherded into the 21st century. During my first fellowship in the early 1990s, I could occasionally send an e-mail by using the computer in Sy’s office. A few years later, there was a dedicated fellows’ computer in the library basement for communications, and by the late 1990s, every living space at the Institute was wired for the Internet. This has not only eased communications for fellows but furthered research productivity as increasing amounts of data and bibliographies are accessible on-line. Despite these modernizations, however, Sy has not lost sight of the heart of the Institute, its library. When I visited recently, Sy proudly showed me all of the facility renovations and the additions to the growing library, still the focal point of most of the research that fellows conduct during their stay at the Albright. Over this extended time, I have also witnessed the transition of the Tel Miqne– Ekron project from the active excavations and field-school phase to its publications phase. Sy and his codirector at Ekron, Trude Dothan, made this shift in a timely manner and succeeded in tackling both phases of their project with great skill and rigor. A quick glance through Sy’s bibliography, available in full in the 2007 Festschrift in his honor (see the Preface) and updated in this volume, shows the depth and breadth of his scholarly work. Most recently, he has produced a number of synthetic articles based on the Iron IIC 7th-century materials from Ekron, without neglecting the vital final-report series for the site or larger editorial projects on themes critical to our field of study. Throughout his tenure, Sy has epitomized the role of scholar and Director, mentoring hundreds of fellows and leading the Institute toward its current status as a vital center for Near Eastern studies and archaeology of the region in the 21st century as well as a nexus for American, Canadian, Chinese, European, Israeli, Palestinian, South African, and South American scholars. The contributors to this Festschrift all owe him a debt of gratitude for his lasting contributions to the field of southern Levantine archaeology, and we offer the work in this volume in appreciation of and as our tribute to Sy.

Personal Reminiscences Robert A. Mullins Azusa Pacific University

I first met Sy Gitin in the summer of 1985, when I visited the excavations at Tel Miqne–Ekron before beginning my studies in archaeology at the Hebrew University that fall. Our group followed Sy and Co-Director Trude Dothan from field to field as they discussed the serious matter of stratigraphy with each field archaeologist, accompanied by much gesticulating! Although I subsequently took courses by Trude and crossed paths with Sy at local conferences, I never had the good fortune to work at Tel Miqne, a well-run project at which an entire generation of capable archaeologists from around the world was trained. My formal affiliation with the Albright began in 1997, when I was awarded a USIA Junior Research fellowship to begin working on my doctoral dissertation, after which I continued on as the Ernest S. Frerichs Fellow and Program Coordinator through July 2002. In the latter capacity, I had the good fortune to work with Sy on a regular basis. I found him to be, not only an effective administrator, but a warm and amiable friend, whom I greeted every morning as I came down the hostel stairs with a long, drawn-out “yeahhhhhhh,” followed by Sy’s own refrain. Although we all enjoy teasing Sy about his ubiquitous “yeah, yeah” catchphrase, his daily wardrobe of a light blue Brooks Brothers button-down shirt and khaki pants, and his readily available packet of Hacks cough drops as a cure-all for just about everything, we do it with great fondness and respect. When a group of us conspired with a person who shall remain unnamed to obtain a copy of the Israeli film classic I Like Mike, we giggled at Sy’s heavily American-accented Hebrew, but we were all aware that no one could match his success as an archaeologist, director of a prominent research facility in Jerusalem, and talented actor who played alongside Haim Topol, no less. A tireless steward, Sy is known for his long workdays beginning at 7 a.m. Sy’s commitment to the fellows’ well-being is unwavering, and he has always ensured that the Albright is their home as well as a research facility, despite ongoing budgetary and other issues. Thanks to Albright gardener Faiz, the courtyard continues to be an oasis in the midst of the larger concrete jungle of Jerusalem. Chef Hisham’s delicious cakes and cookies accompany every workshop and seminar, wine is still served at the xviii

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monthly scholars’ dinners and on other special occasions, and anyone who drops by for tea in the afternoon will find coffee, tea, and cookies available. In the five years that I spent at the Albright, fellows would regularly get together in the courtyard in the evening to chat over a drink or would unwind watching a movie or favorite TV program in the common room. Sy always stopped by to check in with us before going home. Such small gestures mean a great deal to the fellows. Sy has also supervised the growth of the academic program, the renovation of the hostel (kept beautifully clean by Nawal and Nuha), the expansion of the library, and the provision of Internet and Wi-Fi access throughout the facility. Sy has also sought to ensure that the Albright remains neutral territory for local and nonlocal scholars to interact and learn from one another. One testimony to his desire to build bridges is the Trude Dothan Lectureship in Ancient Near Eastern Studies, with a visiting senior scholar speaking at Al-Quds University, the Hebrew University, and the Albright Institute. Sy’s hospitality extends beyond the Albright into the surrounding community. At one point, when an idea was put forward to replace the Albright fence with a high solid wall, Sy convincingly argued that walling in the Institute would only create distrust and suspicion and that the Albright’s greatest security lies in its openness to the local community. Fellows regularly shop in the neighborhood, crossing the street to buy goodies at Yummy Corner, perusing books and buying supplies at Educational Bookstore, and frequenting the surrounding falafel and hummus vendors and coffee shops. For a few years, the fellows sponsored an annual Halloween party, which the shopkeepers and their families would attend, most in costume. At these and other Albright gatherings, a boom box would be set up in the common room and people would dance to whatever music was on hand. I particularly recall the party during which James A. Montgomery Fellow Bob Miller removed William Foxwell Albright’s photo from the wall to dance with him. The picture got passed around so that we could all take turns dancing with this venerable namesake of our institution. Many of us enjoyed sitting together and chatting in the courtyard during these bashes while partaking of a rotating nargileh in true Middle Eastern style. Events like this were not only fun but gave the fellows, our professional colleagues, our neighbors, and our other friends an opportunity to bond in ways that will live long in everyone’s memories. With his heart for East Jerusalem and its people, Sy always supported our desire to reach out to the surrounding community. The Albright is not only culturally and ethnically varied but religiously diverse as well, and Sy always encourages the good spirit that accompanies the celebration of other religious traditions. During Hanukkah, several of us—both Jewish and non-Jewish— would gather around to light the hanukkiah and sing maʿoz tzur. At Christmas time, the Albright would receive a tree, and everyone would come into the common room to decorate it to the sound of Christmas music. Sy’s renditions of Christmas carols at the holiday luncheon are legendary, as is his standard toast at the Thanksgiving meal: “Up the British”!

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Such is the atmosphere at the Albright, in which students and scholars of all nationalities and cultures can live together, value each other’s heritage, and celebrate each other’s differences. A remark made by Sidnie White Crawford in her introduction to the first Festschrift bears repeating: “Sy has put into practice at the Albright Institute the Jewish ethic of tikkun ʿolam (‘healing the world’), and for this, his brightest accomplishment, we honor him.” To that I add, “Amen.”

Bibliography of Seymour Gitin—Update

Books Author and Editor 2014 Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavations 1985–1988, 1990, 1992–1995: Field IV Lower—The Elite Zone. Part 1: The Iron Age I Early Philistine City; Part 2: The Iron Age IIC Late Philistine City; Part 3A: The Iron Age I and Iron Age IIC Early and Late Philistine Cities—Appendices and Indices; Part 3B: The Iron Age I and Iron Age IIC Early and Late Philistine Cities—Plans and Sections (with T. Dothan and Y. Garfinkel). Ekron Final Field Report Series 9/1–3, ed. S. Gitin. Jerusalem: Albright Institute and Hebrew University.

Editor and Contributor Forthcoming  The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Neolithic through the Hellenistic Period (3 vols.). Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, Albright Institute, Israel Antiquities Authority, and American Schools of Oriental Research. Chapter 12.5:  The Iron Age IIA–B in Philistia. Chapter 13.3:  The Iron Age IIC in Judah and the Negev. Chapter 13.5:  The Iron Age IIC in Philistia.

Editor 2009 Eretz-Israel 29 (Ephraim Stern volume) (with J. Aviram, A. Ben-Tor, I. Ephʿal, and R. Reich). 2011 Eretz-Israel 30 (Amnon Ben-Tor volume) (with A. Mazar, E. Stern, S. Zuckerman, and N. Naʾaman).

Articles 2008 Miqne, Tel (Ekron) (with T. Dothan). Pp. 1952–58 in vol. 3 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, 5 vols., ed. E. Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2009 The Late Iron Age II Incense Altars from Ashkelon. Pp.  127–36 in Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager, ed. J. D. Schloen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2010 Philistines in the Books of Kings. Pp. 301–64 in The Books of Kings: Sources, Composition, Historiography and Reception, ed. A. Lemaire and B. Halpern. Leiden: Brill. Editor’s note: The complete bibliography of Seymour Gitin as of 2007 is published in “Up to the Gates of Ekron”: Essays on the Archaeology and History of the Eastern Mediterranean in Honor of Seymour Gitin (ed. S. W. Crawford, A. Ben-Tor, J. P. Dessel, W. G. Dever, A. Mazar, and J. Aviram; Jerusalem: W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research and Israel Exploration Society, 2007) xx–xxvi.

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2011 Chapter 22: Stone Incense Altars. Pp. 581–88 in Ashkelon 3: The Seventh Century b.c., by L. E. Stager, D. M. Master, and J. D. Schloen. Harvard Semitic Museum Final Reports of the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon 3. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2012 Temple Complex 650 at Ekron: The Impact of Multi-Cultural Inf luences on Philistine Cult in the Late Iron Age. Pp. 223–56 in Temple Building and Temple Cult: Architecture and Cultic Paraphernalia of Temples in the Levant (2.–1. Mill. b.c.e.), ed. J. Kamlah. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 41. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 2013 Philistine Ekron (Tel Miqne) (with D. Ben-Shlomo). Oxford Biblical Studies Online Photo Essay. In press  Two New Cultic Inscriptions from 7th Century b.c.e. Ekron (with S. Aḥituv). In Marbeh Hokma: Studies in the Bible and the Ancient Near East in Memory of Victor Avigdor Hurowitz, ed. S. Yona, E. Greenstein, M. I. Gruber, P Machinist, and S. M. Paul. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Forthcoming  Ekron. In The Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception (30 vols.), ed. H.-J. Klauck, B. McGinn, C.-L. Seow, H. Spieckermann, B. D. Walfish, and E. Ziolkowski. Berlin: de Gruyter. In preparation  Four Egyptian New Kingdom Ivory Objects from Ekron 7th Century b.c.e. Temple Complex 650 (with T. Dothan and B. Brandl).

Albright News (AN) 2007 News from Jerusalem: Albright Program Continues Successful Trend in 2006–2007. AN 12: 3–9, 26–27. 2008 Renovation Project Update; News from Jerusalem; In Memoriam: Avraham Biran (1910–2008) and David Noel Freedman (1922–2008). AN 13: 2–9, 17–18. 2009 Renovation Project Phase 2; News from Jerusalem: Hostel Renovations, VideoConferencing Project, and Program Highlights; In Memoriam: Richard Scheuer (1917–2008). AN 14: 2–8, 18, 28. 2010 News from Jerusalem: New Fellowships, Expanded Fellowship Program, and Success of Video-Conferencing Project. AN 15: 3–7, 28. 2011 News from Jerusalem. AN 16: 3–8, 28. 2012 News from Jerusalem. AN 17: 3–5, 28.

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine Marwan Abu Khalaf Institute of Islamic Archaeology and Al-Quds University, Jerusalem

The Islamic pottery of Palestine has not yet been studied fully, although thorough studies have been carried out in other Islamic lands—for example, in Iraq, Egypt, Syria, and Jordan. There are several reasons for this. First, the researchers and archaeologists who earlier came to Palestine were primarily motivated by biblical interests. Second, these researchers were largely ignorant of the features that characterized Islamic civilization, mostly because they were unfamiliar with them and also because the features were so different from the features they were used to examining at biblical sites. Third, there was (and still is) politically motivated concealing of the Islamic Arab heritage in Palestine as a result of the land’s being in dispute. Together, these factors have directly or indirectly impeded the study of Islamic remains and have contributed to the neglect of Islamic archaeology in Palestine. Even though large amounts of Islamic pottery have been uncovered over the years at several sites in Palestine, the study of this pottery has suffered from poor standards of excavation and recording (Pringle 1981: 48). For example, there has been very little laboratory analysis of the pottery with the aim of tracing clay sources. Similarly, little attention has been given to kilns and pottery-making workshops. Finally, much of the diagnostic information about the pottery finds remains unpublished. The largest group of Umayyad pottery discovered so far in Palestine comes from Khirbat al-Mafjar, 2 km north of Jericho on the east side of Wadi al-Nuʾayma. The collection consists of white-painted Palestinian jars, Mafjar buff ware, cut-ware bowls, white-ware jugs, and cooking pots (Baramki 1942; Whitcomb 1988). Another large collection was discovered at the 8th-century Umayyad provincial capital of Ramla, together with pottery-making workshops and kilns. A small amount of the pottery was glazed, most of it in polychrome fashion. A good deal more unglazed pottery was uncovered, characterized by a whitish-yellow clay (Rosen-Ayalon and Eitan 1969; Kaplan 1959). Additional collections of Islamic pottery have been found at other sites as well. One example is Abu Ghosh (Qaryat al-ʾAnab), 13 km west of Jerusalem. The pottery from its early Islamic phases consists mainly of white-ware and cooking pots (de Vaux and Steve 1950). 1

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Marwan Abu Khalaf

Beth Shean (Tell al-Husn), which lies at the juncture of the Jordan and Jezreel Valleys, also contains early Islamic deposits. Umayyad pottery kilns were discovered there, along with white-painted Palestinian bag jars (Beth Shean jars; FitzGerald 1931). Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam), northwest of Megiddo on the Haifa road, is an 8th-century c.e. village that was superseded by a planned town. A wide range of pottery from the early Islamic phases was found here. These included white-painted jars and jugs, combed storage jars, molded lamps, fine-ware bowls, white-painted bowls and shoulder-necked jugs (Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978). Several areas around Jerusalem have also been excavated, revealing an array of early Islamic remains, including a wide range of pottery. Excavations at Ramat Rahel, 4 km south of Jerusalem on the road to Bethlehem, revealed early Islamic phases and an abandonment of the site around 750 c.e. The pottery from there is mainly fineware, bowls, Kerbschinitt bowls, cooking pots, and lamps (Aharoni 1962). At Bethany (al-ʿAzariyya), 3 km east of Jerusalem, the pottery consisted of various jars, white-ware jugs, and molded lamps. Some of the jars have both ribbing and combing, some have a plain surface, some have ornaments in red paint over a plain surface, and others are sherds with stamped impression (Saller 1957: 159–325). The north wall of Jerusalem, excavated by Hamilton, revealed well-defined layers of pottery. Examples included white-painted Palestinian bag jars and fine-ware jugs, juglets, and jars (Hamilton 1944). In the “City of David” excavations, archaeologists uncovered pottery from the early Islamic phases. This included fine-ware bowls as well as buff Mafjar jugs and juglets with molded, incised, and barbotine decoration (Shiloh 1984). Islamic pottery has also been found at Tell Zarʾin ( Jezreel) overlooking the Jezreel Valley. Excavations on the tell revealed that it was occupied during the early Islamic period. The pottery discovered there includes fine-ware, white-painted Palestinian bag jars, white-painted, light-red jars and bowls, red-painted jars, ribbed cooking pots, glazed cooking pots, and white-ware jugs (Grey 1994). At Caesarea, the later strata date to two main periods: early Islamic and Crusader. The Islamic-period-pottery deposits include fine ware, Kerbschnitt style molded jugs, white jugs, and jars with barbotine and stamped decoration (Brosch 1986). At Khirbat al-kerak on the southwest shore of the Sea of Galilee lies a building dating to the Umayyad period. The pottery includes white painted metallic terra-cotta, brown-slipped, white-painted ware, and bag jars (Delougaz and Haines 1960). At Khirbat al-Minya, on the northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee, excavations revealed an Umayyad palace with pottery ranging from the 8th to 14th centuries c.e. (Grabar et al. 1960). Finally, Asqalan (Ashkelon/Tell al-Burj) on the southern coastal plain also has 7th-century early Umayyad deposits (Phythian-Adams 1923). However, from the area excavated during the first season at the site in 1985, types of Islamic-period pottery were discovered. The contexts of this pottery are very mixed, containing materials that date to the beginning of the Islamic period (Rosen-Ayalon and Cohen 2008: 489).

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine

3

2 Beisan

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Kh. Al-Mafjar

0

10 cm.

10 cm.

Jerusalem

5 Caesarea 0

10 cm.

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Zar’in 6

Ramla

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Fig. 1.  Bag jars.

From the examples found at these sites, we can see that the early-Islamic-periodpottery industry followed high standards and produced several different items. The most significant types are discussed in what follows.

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Marwan Abu Khalaf

Bag Jars The bag jar (fig. 1) is also known as the Palestinian jar or Beisan (Beth Shean) jar, after the place where it was first discovered. It has a bag-shaped form; deep, broad, ribbed body; convex base; and small narrow neck about 8–10 cm in diameter. There are two ring handles on the shoulders with a ridge below them. The pottery is made of dark-brown clay, hard-fired, metallic, and painted with white-slip wavy patterns. The jars are usually red or red with bluish-black mottling. At other times, they have been fired in a wholly reduced environment to produce a black surface or fully oxidized to give a rosy-pink color. Often a dark-brown to grey slip has been added. Examples of these jars also appear without ribs or white slip painting. The bag jar was generally used for storing water. According to scholars, this jar is quite common in the north of Palestine but rarely found in the south. Examples of bag jars have been found at Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 3:1–3) (here, fig. 1:1); Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz and Haines 1960: fig. 35:1–5) (here, fig. 1:8); Beisan (Beth Shean; FitzGerald 1931: fig. 32:18) (here, fig. 1:2); Zarʾin (Grey 1994: fig. 6:1–5) (here, fig. 1:5, 6); Ramla (Israel Museum Cat. no. 66) (here, fig. 1:7); Jerusalem (Tushingham 1985: fig. 33:2) (here, fig. 1:3); and Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. 1:19) (here, fig. 1:4).

Cooking Pots The cooking pots (fig. 2) are wheel-made with a rounded base, a closely fitting lid, and a decoration of light ribbing. The clay is brownish-orange or grey. There are two common types: open form cooking pots and closed form cooking pots. Open forms include cooking bowls and pans with two horizontal, upward-tilted basket handles. These pots have been found in Zarʾin (Grey 1994: fig. 2:1–3) (here, fig. 2:10); Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig 6:8, 9) (here, fig.  2:6, 7); Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz and Haines 1960: fig. 33:7); Khirbat alMafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 13) (here, fig. 2:5), Abu Ghosh (de Vaux and Steve 1950: fig. B:15–19) (here, fig. 2:1, 3, 4); Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. I:17) (here, fig. 2:2); and the Jerusalem Citadel (Geva 1982: 73). Closed form cooking vessels, on the other hand, are spherical in shape with a simple triangular rim and two vertical loop handles. They have been found at several Palestinian sites, including Abu Ghosh (de Vaux and Steve 1950: fig. B:15–19); Khirbat al-Kerak (Delugaz and Haines 1960: fig. 33:14, 17) (here, fig. 2:11); Zarʾin (Grey 1994: figs. 2:4–5; 3:1–3) (here, fig. 2:8); Jerusalem (Magness 1993: 219–20); and Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 6:6) (here, fig. 2:9).

Dark-Grey to Buff Ware Dark-grey to buff ware (fig. 3) is mainly characterized by large, handmade basins. These typically have a f lat base and arched rim walls that are thick and straight or slightly

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine

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Caesarea 1

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10 cm.

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10 11 Kh. Al-Kerak Fig. 2.  Cooking pots.

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T. Qaimun

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Kh. Al-Mafjar

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Fig. 3.  Dark-grey to buff ware.

rounded. They are adorned with a painted pattern or with bands of combed, zigzag, or stamped decoration. Examples have been found in Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 7:10–11) (here, fig. 3:2, 4); Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 10:2, 4, 7) (here, fig. 3:1, 3, 5); Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz 1960: fig. 33:17–18) (here, fig. 3:7, 8); and Zarʾin (Grey 1994: fig. 8:1) (here, fig. 3:6).

White or Pale Creamy Ware The clay used in making white or pale creamy ware (fig. 4) is a pale color, often with a green or yellow tinge. Its quality is fairly fine and soft. The vessels are wheelmade and used as water jars, bowls, spouted jugs, and pilgrim f lasks. The jugs have a simple rim, cylindrical neck, slanted shoulders, cylindrical body, and f lat base. The handle extends from shoulder to rim, and it sometimes has a thumb knob at the top. On the neck below the rim are several incised, horizontal bands. Pottery of this type has been found at most Islamic sites in Palestine. It seems to have been produced first in the Umayyad period and continued under the Abbasids, after which time its production ceased.

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine

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T. Qaimun 2 Caesarea

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Kh. Al-Mafjar

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Kh. Al-Kerak Ramla 14 Fig. 4.  White or pale creamy ware.

Numerous examples have been found at Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: figs. 5:8–9, 15–16; 10:1–3; 12:26–27; 14:2–3, 5, 8, 10–11; 16:1–3) (here, fig. 4:5–8, 10–12); Ramla (Rosen-Ayalon and Eitan 1969: Cat. no. 66) (here, fig. 4:14); Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 7:1–6) (here, fig. 4:3); Abu Ghosh (de Vaux and Steve 1950: pls. C and D) (here, fig. 4:13); Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz

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Jerusalem

Kh. Al-Mafjar

3 0

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8

10

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cm.

Beisan

T. Qaimun

Zarʾin

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Fig. 5.  Cut-ware geometric relief bowls.

and Haines 1960: fig. 39:10) (here, fig.4:15); Caesarea (Brosch 1986: figs.  1:7–15, I:1–6) (here, fig. 4:2), Beisan (Beth Shean; FitzGerald 1931: pls. 30:2, 6; 33:1–4) (here, fig. 4:1, 4, 9); and Jerusalem (Geva 1982: 73).

Cut-Ware Geometric Relief Bowls Cut-ware geometric relief bowls (fig. 5) are handmade bowls of coarse grey or hard and thick red pottery. They are small and cylindrical in shape with a f lat base and vertical sides. The sides are decorated with high-relief kerbschnitt geometrical patterns of triangles and crossed squares. The shape is typical of the Umayyad period. It can also be observed in glass and stoneware (Klaus 1965: figs. 17, 42; Harding 1951: fig. 2:17–19). This type of ware was studied by Sauer in his analysis of the early Islamic pottery of Jordan. He dated the cut-ware bowls to a time between 696 and 750 c.e. (Sauer 1982: 331–33). By contrast, Whitcomb, in his examination of the pottery of Khirbat al-Mafjar, dated them between 800 and 850 c.e. (Whitcomb 1988: 51–68). Given the motifs that decorate these bowls and the fact that they are well cut and designed, they appear to be more-closely related to the earlier Umayyad than the later Abbasid

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine

9

1 2 10 cm.

0

Kh. Al-Mafjar

T. Qaimun

3 Zarʾin

10 cm.

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5 cm.

Beisan

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Fig. 6.  Buff ware painted with purplish-brown.

period. According to Sauer, the Abbasid cut ware on handmade bowls is much cruder and deeper than that of the Umayyads. Specimens of this type of bowl have been discovered at several sites in Palestine, including Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 6:20–25) (here, fig. 5:1); Zarʾin (Grey 1994: fig. 8:3–4) (here, fig. 5:4, 6); Beth Shean (FitzGerald 1931: pls. 24:3; 27I:1) (here, fig. 5:3), Tell Qaimum (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 8:1–3) (here, fig. 5:5); Jerusalem–Ramat Rachel (Aharoni 1956: fig. 6) (here, fig. 5:2); and Asqala (Ashkelon; Rosen-Ayalon and Cohen 2008: fig. 26.1:G).

Buff Ware Painted with Purplish-Brown The clay of the buff ware in fig. 6 is buff or pink with a smooth body, cream-colored wash, and a decoration of loops and lattices in purplish-brown paint. This type is represented by a number of bowls with rounded edges. It is also painted with conventionalized f loral and geometric designs. Examples have been found at Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz and Haines 1960: pls. 3, 4, 10, 37:8) (here, fig. 6:5); Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1944: figs. 6:1–7; 9) (here, fig. 6:1); Beisan (Beth Shean; FitzGerald 1931: fig. 30:8) (here, fig. 6:4); Zarʾin (Grey 1994: fig. 8:2) (here, fig. 6:3); and Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 7:9) (here, fig. 6:2).

Fine Ware Bowls Fine ware (fig. 7) continued a Byzantine tradition into the 9th century and was known later as buff Khirbat al-Mafjar ware. It is a thin, wheel-made, hard-fired buff

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Zarʾin

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Beisan

Jerusalem

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Fig. 7.  Fine-ware bowls.

1 0

2

4

6

8 10 cm.

or orange ware. This ware takes the form of beakers, hemispherical cups, small bowls, and juglets. The vessels are decorated with wavy combing, incised lines, or band burnishing on shoulder necks. Examples of this type are to be found in Zarʾin (Grey 1994: fig. 6:7) (here, fig. 7:1); Beisan (Beth Shean; FitzGerald 1931: fig. 33:16) (here, fig. 7:2); Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 6:17) (here, fig. 7:5); Jerusalem (Tushingham 1985: fig. 33:17) (here, fig. 7:3); and Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. IIa).

White-Painted Orange Ware

2 Fig. 8.  White-painted orange ware.

White-painted orange ware vessels (fig. 8) are wheel-made from a coarse orange fabric decorated with a white slip and painted loops and lattices. They mostly take the form of jugs or juglets. A number were found in Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz and Haines 1960: fig. 34:10) (here, fig.  8:2); and Beisan (Beth Shean; FitzGerald 1931: fig. 27:2) (here, fig. 8:1).

Molded Ware Molded ware (fig. 9) takes the form of jugs characterized by a cylindrical neck, spherical body, f lat base, and handle from rim to shoulder. Each part of the body was molded separately and then joined together. Molds have been found in Ramla and Caesarea. These vessels were decorated with repeated geometric patterns in low relief.

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2 cm.

5

Jerusalem

T. Qaimun

10 cm.

Ramla 5

6

7 Caesarea

Fig. 9.  Molded ware.

12

Marwan Abu Khalaf

2

1 10 cm.

Kh. Al-Mafjar

3

4

5

6 Kh. Al-Kerak

7

Caesarea 8 Fig. 10.  Barbotine and Stamped Ware.

Specimens have been found at Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 14:2–3, 5) (here, fig. 9:1, 2); Ramla (Rosen-Ayalon and Eitan 1969: Cat. no. 66) (here, fig. 9:5, 6); Jerusalem (Tushingham 1985: fig. 34:20) (here, fig. 9:4); Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 7:5) (here, fig. 9:3); Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. 3) (here, fig. 9:7); and ʿAsqala (Ashkelon; Rosen-Ayalon and Cohen 2008: fig. 26.1A, C–F).

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine

13

Barbotine and Stamped Ware The pottery in fig. 10 consists of jars decorated with stamped and barbotine patterns. The stamped designs are mostly circles and grouped together to form f loral motifs. Fragments of pottery with this decoration were discovered in Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. I:1–3) (here, fig. 10:7,8); and Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz and Haines 1960: fig. 42) (here, fig. 10:9). The barbotine is a technique whereby decorative clay elements are added before firing (Brosch 1986: 68). Several complete examples of vessels using this technique have been uncovered at Khirbat al-Mafjar (Baramki 1942: fig. 5:15–16) (here, fig. 10:1, 2). Fragments were also found at Khirbat al-Kerak (Delougaz and Haines 1960: fig. 43) (here, fig. 10:5, 6); and Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. 1:6a,b) (here, fig. 10:3, 4). These jars and fragments have applied decoration consisting of twisted ropes, rosettes, and horizontal ridges. The barbotine technique has been dated to the Umayyad period in Palestine, but it was mainly found in Mesopotamia in the 12th century c.e. (Brosch 1986: 68).

Figurines A large number of zoomorphic pottery figurines (fig. 11) have been uncovered at Umay­yad sites. They tend to be small in size with a cylindrical body. Such figurines usually depict a ram with spiral horns or a donkey with long, erect ears. The features of their faces, such as the eyes and mouth, were made prominent by coloring them with white, black, or red paint (Brosch 1986: 68). These figurines are quite common at Umayyad sites but seem to have disappeared entirely after the end of the Umayyad period. Examples have been found at Caesarea (Brosch 1986: fig. 2:1–4) (here, fig. 11:1– 3); Ramla (Rosen-Ayalon and Eitan 1969: Cat. no. 66) (here, fig. 11:7–9); Khirbat alMafjar (Baramki 1942: figs. 16:10–12, 18–20; 17:2) (here, fig. 11:5, 6); Beisan (Beth Shean; FitzGerald 1931: fig. 39:4) (here, fig. 11:10); and Tell Qaimun (Yoqneʾam; Ben-Tor and Rosenthal 1978: fig. 7:3) (here, fig. 11:4).

Conclusion Based on the above presentation, it is evident that the pottery industry f lourished during the Umayyad period in Palestine. Umayyad pottery can be distinguished by a number of features, such as its ware, form, decoration, and technique. In terms of ware, most Umayyad pottery ranges from white to cream or pale pink in color and is hard-fired with thin walls. The forms resemble metal objects of the era. These are characterized by a simple rim, smooth surface, f lat base, and handles reaching from rim to shoulder and adorned with thumb knobs. The decorative motifs on the pottery are mostly repeated geometric and f loral designs, either carved or painted on the surface. The geometric motifs are triangles, squares, rectangles, and stars interlaced with one another. The f loral motifs are composed of leaves, rosettes, and stylized plants.

14

Marwan Abu Khalaf

2 1 0

3

2 cm.

Caesarea

4 0

5 10 cm.

6

10 cm.

T. Qaimun

Kh. Al-Mafjar

Ramla

Ramla

7

Beisan

10

9

8 Ramla Fig. 11.  Figurines.

Umayyad artists employed various techniques to decorate their pottery vessels. These include incising, combing, barbotine, stamping, painting, Kerbschnitt, and molding. These techniques demanded highly developed professional skills typical of the Umayyad period, at which time a high standard of artistic work was reached in architecture and the other arts, including pottery. However, the lack of stratigraphic work at excavated sites means that much of the pottery believed to be Umayyad has been dated to the Abbasid period. Whitcomb, in his recent study of the pottery from Khirbat al-Mafjar, found that the time span between the palace’s construction and destruction was only about a decade and that most of the pottery uncovered at the palace dated to after its destruction. It is difficult, however, to ascertain whether the pottery

The Umayyad Pottery of Palestine

15

found at the site was used by the workmen building it or whether it dates to the end of the 8th century c.e. after the palace was destroyed. A close examination of the pottery from Khirbat al-Mafjar indicates that some objects, such as the creamy ware and the cut ware, were made with a high standard of craftsmanship. We may also suppose from the quality of the palace’s architecture that high-ranking craftsmen were employed at the site, possibly living in the palace before its completion, and that they may have been the users of these high-quality vessels. If this is not the case, it means that Umayyad traditions continued on into the Abbasid period because the white creamy barbotine jars are very similar in decoration to those found at Mushtta palace. In addition, the barbotine technique was no longer used by the end of the Umayyad period but was reintroduced in Mesopotamia during the 12th century c.e. Furthermore, the rounded figurines found at many Umayyad sites are typical of the period: they disappeared along with the dynasty. Sauer made a study of cut-ware bowls at Umayyad sites in Jordan, which are similar to those in Palestine, and dated them between 696 and 750 c.e. He also found that the Abbasid cut-ware on handmade bowls is cruder and deeper than that of the Umay­ yad period (Sauer 1982: 332–33). It therefore follows that the Palestinian cut ware is more likely to be Umayyad than Abbasid. Finally, during the Umayyad period, glazed pottery began to be more common. Examples were found at the citadel in Jerusalem (Geva 1982: 73). All these facts suggest that the pottery discussed above dates to the Umayyad period and that its forms, techniques, and decoration were developed at this time (i.e., not before 700  c.e.). The presence of Umayyad-design pottery at Abbasid sites indicates the continuation of Umayyad traditions into the Abbasid period.

Bibliography Aharoni, Y. 1956 Excavations at Ramat Rahel: 1954. Israel Exploration Journal 6: 102–11. Baramki, D. C. 1942 The Pottery from Khirbat al-Mafjar. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities in Palestine 10: 65–103. Ben-Tor, A., and Rosenthal, R. 1978 The First Season of Excavations at Tell Yoqneʾam, 1977: Preliminary Report. Israel Exploration Journal 28: 57–82. Brisch, K. 1965 Das omayyadische Schloss in Usais. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Cairo 20: 138–77 Brosch, N. 1986 Ceramic Remains: The Pottery of the 8th to 13th Centuries c.e. Strata 1–3. Pp. 66–89 in Excavations of Caesarea Maritima: 1975, 1976, 1979 Final Report, ed. L. Levine and E. Netzer. Qedem 21. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Delougaz, P., and Haines, R. 1960 A Byzantine Church at Khirbat al-Karak. Oriental Institute Publication 85. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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FitzGerald, G. M. 1931 Beth Shean Excavations 1921–1923: The Arab and Byzantine Levels. Philadelphia: University Museum. Geva, H. 1982 Excavations in the Jerusalem Citadel, 1979–1982. Qadmoniot 15: 69–74. Grabar, O.; Perrot, J.; Revani, B.; and Rosen-Ayalon, M. 1960 Khirbat al-Minya. Israel Exploration Journal 10: 226–43; pls. 27–30. Grey, A. D. 1994 The Pottery of the Later Periods from Tel Jezreel: An Interim Report. Levant 26: 51–62. Hamilton, R. W. 1944 Excavations against the North Wall of Jerusalem, 1937–38. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities in Palestine 10: 1–54. Kaplan, J. 1959 Excavations at the White Mosque in Ramla. ʿAtiqot. 2: 106–15; pls. 15–16. Lankester Harding, G. 1951 Excavations on the Citadel, Amman. The Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 1: 7–16. Magness, J. 1993 Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology circa 200–800 ce. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supple­ment 9. Sheffield: JSOT Press. Phythian-Adams, W. J. 1923 Report on the Stratification of Askalon. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 55: 60–84. Pringle, D. 1981 The Medieval Pottery of Palestine and Transjordan (ad 636–1500): An Introduction, Gazetteer and Bibliography. Medieval Ceramics 5: 45–60. Rosen-Ayalon, M., and Cohen, J. 2008 Aspects of Islamic Period Pottery. Pp. 488–511 in Ashkelon I: Introduction and Overview (1985– 2006), ed. L. E. Stager, J. D. Schloen, and D. M. Master. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Rosen-Ayalon, M., and Eitan, A. 1969 Ramla Excavation: Finds from the VIIIth Century c.e. Jerusalem: Israel Museum. Sauer, J. A. The Pottery of Jordan in the Islamic Period. Pp. 329–37 in Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan–I, ed. A. Hadidi. Amman: Department of Antiquities. Saller, S. J. 1957 Excavations at Bethany (1949–1953). Publications of the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum 12. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. Shiloh, Y. 1984 Excavations at the City of David I: 1978–1982. Qedem 19. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Tushingham, A. D. 1985 Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967, vol. 1. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum. Vaux, R. de, and Steve, A. M. 1950 Fouilles a Qiryat al-ʾEnab, Abu Ghosh, Palestine. Paris: Gabalda. Whitcomb, D. 1988 Khirbat al-Mafjar Reconsidered: The Ceramic Evidence. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 271: 51–68.

Marked Jar Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron David Ben-Shlomo Smithsonian Institution

Introduction Today, it is almost universally agreed that the Iron Age I material culture in Philistia ref lects the arrival of immigrants from the west, probably from the Aegean and/ or Cyprus. Thus, for many decades scholars have been searching, largely in vain, for clear evidence of Aegean or Cypriot script or related recording systems in the material culture of Philistia. The question of the language and scripts of the early Philistines has been raised several times in the past (e.g., Stieglitz 1977; Dothan 1982: 22–23; Singer 1983: 26; Singer 1994: 332–37; Dothan and Dothan 1992: 153, 167; Yasur-Landau 2002: 231– 34, 413; Cross and Stager 2006; Ben-Shlomo 2006a). 1 Yet this topic remains enigmatic and highly speculative. One of the artifact groups that has received less attention but may shed light on this problematic issue is pottery vessels with incised and impressed marks. These marks are especially common on storage-jar handles from the early Iron Age on in Philistia. Jar handles and other pottery vessels with marks or various signs first appear in several centers in the eastern Mediterranean during the second half of the 2nd millennium b.c.e. In particular, the marks on commercial storage jars or amphorae (the “Canaanite jars” or other jar types derived from this form) are quite common. These marks may relate to various aspects of administration, especially in regard to commodity distribution and redistribution. Author’s note: I wish to thank the excavators of Tel Miqne–Ekron, Trude Dothan and Seymour Gitin, for allowing me to study the marked jar handles from Tel Miqne and for their continuous and full support. I thank Nicolle Hirschfeld for sharing some of her substantial knowledge on this subject with me. The Tel Miqne objects were drawn by Marina Zeltzer, and the items from Ashdod are reproduced courtesy of the IAA. 1.  Clay tablets from Tell Deir ʿAllā have also been noted as possibly carrying an Aegean script (Franken 1964; Singer 1994: 334–35).

17

18

David Ben-Shlomo

The marks themselves are often quite simple, but in certain cases they are more complex and may even be evidence of a more formal script. The marks may have indicated the quantity or nature of the vessel’s contents, its origin, ownership, or destination; or they may have had other unknown meanings. In any case, these marks probably ref lect a rudimentary type of administration and/or recording system. If indeed an actual script was used, it may be possible also to assess the “ethnic” aspects of the people marking and using the storage vessels. Indeed, a study of several marked jar handles from Philistine Ashkelon has suggested that they bear Cypro-Minoan signs (Cross and Stager 2006). Few early Iron Age handles with various types of incised marks from Tel Miqne–Ekron, Ashdod, Tell Qasile, Tel Batash, and other sites in the southern Levant have been published to date (see below). At Philistine Tel Miqne– Ekron, a large assemblage of handles with such incised marks (including 213 marked handles, mostly dated to the Late Bronze II [henceforth, LB II] and Iron Age) has not yet been studied (except for 3 from Field INE, Ben-Shlomo 2006b: cat. nos. 2–4), nor has the phenomenon as a whole been examined. These marks seem to be less common in LB II contexts and at sites outside Philistia during Iron Age I. However, this impression needs to be substantiated by more comprehensive research. Moreover, while Canaanite commercial jars or amphorae of the period have been subjected to petrographic and chemical analyses to determine provenance (e.g., Sugerman 2000; Serpico et al. 2003; Smith et al. 2004), jars with marked handles have not been a focus of these studies, except for the above-mentioned study of marked handles from Ashkelon (Cross and Stager 2006) and a single example from Aphek (Yasur-Landau and Goren 2004). These analyses indicated that some of these jars were made in the Levant while others were made in Cyprus. Nicolle Hirschfeld (1993; 2002) has studied such incised marks (mostly made after firing) in several locations throughout the eastern Mediterranean and has suggested that in most cases they relate to a system of tracking vessels and their contents. Yet, here again, this issue was not researched further (for example, by employing provenance analysis). In this paper, by means of a short survey of the published and unpublished material from Tel Miqne– Ekron and other sites in Philistia and the southern Levant, I aim to shed more light on the issue of marked handles with regard to Philistine material culture. It should be noted that the results presented here are preliminary and that a larger study on this subject is still in progress.

The Assemblage of Marked Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron and Other Regional Sites The marks on pottery vessels in general and on storage jar handles in particular can be divided into three categories: A.  Marks made before firing, possibly by the potters, are often interpreted as “potter’s marks.” Such signs may have been used to identify the different potters’ vessels in the kiln. The marks include both incisions and impressions

Marked Jar Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron

19

made with a finger, instrument, or a stamp seal. However, in contrast to their traditional interpretation, a larger-scale/more-centralized administrative activity may be ref lected by these marks, as seen in the case of the LMLK jars of the late Iron Age II. B.  Marks incised on the surface of the pot/handle after it was fired. These marks could have been made by the potters themselves or by people handling, filling, shipping, storing, or consuming the contents of the jars. They could also have been made after the vessel went out of use or even after it was broken. These are commonly seen as evidence of a recording system. C.  Marks painted on the vessels’ handles either before or after firing. Such marks are generally treated as part of the decoration of the vessel. This category will not be discussed further here. It should be noted, however, that in some cases it can be difficult to distinguish visually between incised marks made before and after firing, especially if the latter are rather shallow. This characteristic of the incised marks may be related to the type of instrument used to make the incision (whether stone, metal, or other). An experimental study on this issue may help us better characterize the ancient marks. Aside from the type of marks, various aspects of the mark itself can be indicative of the cultural background of the makers. These could include the shape of the mark, its angle or orientation in relation to the vessel, and its location on the body or handle. Moreover, one should take into account the specific type of vessel on which the mark appears. Most vessels discussed here are storage jars, but similar marks also appear on cooking pots, kraters, jugs, and other types of vessels. In certain cases, marked handles can be too fragmentary to identify the type of vessel. For example, while it may be clear that they are jar handles, it can be difficult to ascertain which type of jar. Altogether at least 213 marked pottery vessels were found at Tel Miqne–Ekron. These have been preliminarily studied and classified by type of mark and context (table 1; see a small selection in fig. 1). It seems that the majority (about 200 items) are storage jar handles. In a group of 126 marked handles, over 60% of them are incised, with the incisions made mostly after firing. Indeed, 104 were incised after firing and 16 to 22 before firing. Of the remaining 40% (77 examples), most were jar handles that had been impressed before firing, probably by a finger. The majority of incised handles come from Iron Age I levels (Strata VII–IV, 70% of the stratified examples). The peak time of their appearance seems to have been during the latter part of Iron Age I (Stratum V, the 11th century b.c.e.). Around 11 marked handles appear in Strata VII–VI, doubling to 20–26 in Strata V–IV. This trend may be due in part to the larger exposure of Strata V–IV at the site. The quantities of finger-impressed handles from Strata VI, V, and IV are roughly similar. The incised signs are of variable forms. A large number (38%) are generalized “x” signs (fig. 1:1–2 and “Description” on facing page). When the mark was aligned

20

David Ben-Shlomo Table 1.  Marked Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron Marking Type

MB–LB Stratum Stratum Stratum Stratum (Strata XI–VIII) VII VI V IV

Total Iron I

Iron II

Unstratified

Total 126

Incised (total)

8

11

9

26

20

66

28

24

X sign

1

1

2

3

0

7

5

3

16

+ sign

1

4

5

6

7

23

5

3

32

V sign

0

1

0

1

2

4

0

0

4

Horizontal lines

3

2

1

6

4

13

12

0

28

3

Vertical lines

1

0

0

Other lines

2

2

1

1

4

2

0

7

1

4

1

3

10

3

3

Complex signs

0

0

0

2

3

5

Other

0

1

4

5

2

6

11 18

Finger-impressed (total)

0

2

13

15

20

50

12

15

77

Other handles—not jars

0

2

1

1

2

6

6

3

(15)

Other marked fragments

0

1

0

2

1

4

4

2

(10)

Total

8

14

22

43

41

120

44

41

213

Description of Marks Appearing in Figure 1 No.  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8

Site Miqne Miqne Miqne Miqne Miqne Miqne Ashdod Ashdod

  9 Miqne

Miqne Obj. No. / Publication #400 (Field INE) #6801 (Field IVNW) #5121 (Field IVNW) #58 (Field INE) #6408 (Field IVNW) #6486 (Field IVNW) Dothan 1971: fig. 84:14 Dothan and BenShlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:7 Jar handle with mark incised after firing #697 (Field INE) Description Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing Jar handle with mark incised after firing

10 Miqne Jar handle with finger impression 11 Ashdod Jar handle with finger impression and mark incised after firing

Stratum VA VC VB VII VIIA VIIB XII XI VB

Notes

On right— enhancement of lines

#6479 (Field INW) IVA Dothan and BenXI Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:1

with the direction of the handle, it was designated with a “+” sign (fig. 1:2, which comprised the majority). When incised at any other angle, it was regarded as an “x” sign (fig. 1:1). Various combinations consist of mostly horizontal parallel lines ranging in number from 1 to 4 (Miqne Obj. no. 6045; fig. 1:3, 2 lines; fig. 1:4, 3 lines), as well as vertical and diagonal lines (fig. 1:5). Plus (“+”) signs with additional related lines, above

Marked Jar Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron

21

Fig. 1.  Marked jar handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron and Ashdod (see table 1); not to scale.

or within (Miqne Obj. no. 6487) also appear. These more-common marks appear in the various LB II and Iron I strata, constituting 35.7% of the total. Four Iron Age I examples have “v” signs at various angles (fig. 1:6), while 18 have other, very fragmentary or unidentifiable signs. Altogether 11 examples have more complex signs (5 from Strata V–IV and 3 from Iron II strata). These include a “net” pattern (fig. 1:9), or combinations of “x” signs and horizontal and other lines (fig. 1:7–8 from Ashdod). As noted, most of the finger-impressed handles from Miqne were also found in Iron Age I (fig. 1:10; 80.6% of the stratified examples; there are hardly any in the early Iron Age I Stratum VII and none in LB II strata, IX–VIII). One additional example

22

David Ben-Shlomo

is of a cooking jug with a finger impression close to the rim (Obj. no. 5826). One example from Stratum V has both a finger impression and an “x” incised mark (Miqne Obj. nos. 1126, 6464; see fig. 1:11 from Ashdod). Eighteen incised jar handles were published from Ashkelon together with an inscription on an ostracon (Cross and Stager 2006). The marks on the handles as well as the inscription have been interpreted by the authors as representing Cypro-Minoan script and as evidence for its use for administration by the Philistines (Cross and Stager 2006: 150). It should be noted that the 2006 article by Cross and Stager discusses both Bronze and Iron Age incised handles: 6 of the handles come from clear Middle–Late Bronze Age levels (Cross and Stager 2006: handle nos. 2, 4, 7, 8, 12, and 17); 1 is from a LB II–Iron I level (handle no. 11); and 1 is quite clearly a Late Bronze Age stirrup jar import (probably Minoan, handle no. 18, Cross and Stager 2006: 150, fig. 22). Nine come from Iron Age I levels (handle nos. 1, 5, 6, 9, 10, 13, 14, 15, 16), and 1 is from a Late Iron II stratum (handle no. 3). The signs appearing on the handles include: the “+” / “x” sign (LB II: handle 12; Iron  I: handle nos. 13–14); 2 horizontal lines (LB  II: handle 17; Iron II: handle nos. 9, 15–16); 2 horizontal and 1 diagonal line (handle no. 1); the “sand dial” (or “x” between horizontal lines) and 2 lines below (handle no. 11); and 5 horizontal and 1 vertical line (handle no. 10). More complex signs on the Ashkelon handles include a vertical line intersected by 3 shorter horizontal lines (handle no. 2, from an LB II context; also a similar sign on Minoan handle no. 18), a “+” in a square (handle no. 3 from Iron II; possibly similar is handle no. 4 from an LB II context), a polygon (partial, handle no. 6), a triangle with a vertical line intersecting (handle no. 7 from LB II), a “+” in a rectangle topped by two triangles (handle no. 8 from MB II), and a handle combining a partial rectangle and some impression (handle no. 5, possibly a seal impression). Notably, most of the more complex signs do not appear at Tel Miqne. A short survey of further parallels for some of the more common marks appearing on vessels at Tel Miqne–Ekron will follow. This is only a preliminary inventory, with an emphasis on Philistia and southern Israel, and is by no means an exhaustive list of parallels. Incised handles, especially with simple signs, appear in various quantities in Late Bronze and Iron Age levels of Levantine sites in southern Israel, as well as in other regions. In most LB–Iron Age sites in Philistia, the “+” sign is the most common one incised on jar handles. Some examples include: LB II: Ashdod, Area B, Stratum 2 (Dothan 1971: pl. 33:7); Tel Batash, Stratum IX (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 18:10). Iron I: Ashdod, Strata XIV/XIII (Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 25:7), Ashdod, Stratum XII (Dothan and Porath 1993: fig. 35:9, 12); Ashdod,

Marked Jar Handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron

23

Stratum XI, (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:5–6); and Tell Qasile, Stratum X (Mazar 1985: figs. 48:9, 50:14). Iron II: Ashdod, Stratum VIIIB (Dothan 1971: fig. 48:7); Batash, Stratum IVB (Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 1:22); Batash, Stratum III, (Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pls. 93:18, 95:3), and Tel Mor (Hirschfeld 2007: fig. 6.1:6–12). Another variant is the “+” and line below, from the LB II at Tel Batash, Stratum VIII (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 26:3). The “X” sign is also common, appearing for example at LB II Tel Batash, Stratum VIII (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 36:1–2); Iron Age I Ashdod, Stratum XI (fig. 1:11) (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:4, with an “x” and a finger impression; also, Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 35:7); and Tel Mor (Hirschfeld 2007: fig. 6.1:3–5). 2 Two parallel horizontal lines (fig. 1:3) appear on several occasions in the Iron I: Ashdod, Stratum XIII (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.6:17); Ashdod, Stratum XII (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.31:17); Ashdod, XI (Dothan and BenShlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:1, also with finger impression); and Tel Mor (Hirschfeld 2007: fig. 6.1:8). Four horizontal lines appear from the LB II at Batash, on a jug, Stratum VIII (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 26:5); and Iron I: Ashdod, Stratum XII (Dothan and Porath 1993: fig. 39:12). Other rather simple signs combining various straight lines include two vertical lines and intersecting diagonal (Tel Miqne: see fig. 1:5, Ashdod, Stratum XIII, Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.6:16); two vertical lines and one horizontal line (Batash, Iron II, Stratum III, Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 88:4); two horizontal lines and one intersecting vertical line (Miqne, Stratum V, Obj. no. 4286; Batash, LB II, Stratum VIII, Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 22:7); two diagonal lines and one intersecting line (Batash, LB II, Stratum VIII, Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 22:5), and a “+” sign and one horizontal line (Ashdod, Area C, Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 35:8). Another sign occurring during both the LB  II and the Iron Age in Philistia is an “x” between horizontal lines or the “sun-dial” motif (fig. 1:7). Examples include LB II: Batash, Stratum VIII (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 22:6, 8); Iron I: Ashdod, Stratum XII (Dothan 1971: fig. 84:14); Batash, Stratum V–IV (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 71:12, 22); and Iron II: Batash, Stratum II (Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 95:4). Rarer signs are a square with an “x” inside (fig. 1:8, Ashdod, Stratum XI, Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:7), a square (Tel Mor, Hirschfeld 2007: fig. 6.1, on a jug) and a “psi” or trident-like sign (Ashdod, Area C, Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 35:6); also a horizontal “psi-like” sign (Batash, Post Stratum V, Panitz-Cohen and 2.  See also, e.g., an Iron Age II cooking pot from Batash, Stratum II (Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2001: pl. 65:9).

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Mazar 2006: pl. 69:15). Apparently, most signs appear in both the Late Bronze and Iron Age. Handles, especially of jars marked after firing, with the same signs discussed above are also found at various sites in northern Israel, often during the Iron Age. These are typically represented in smaller numbers than in Philistia. A preliminary account shows that several examples come from Iron Age Megiddo, including simpler signs from the Iron  I (Arie 2006: “x” sign, figs. 13.55:1, 13.67:3, 13.69:5 Level K-4; other signs, Level K-4, fig. 13.61:3, 9). Handles with a finger impression together with simple incised marks come from Iron Age II, Megiddo, Strata III–V (Lamon and Shipton 1939: “x” signs, pls. 41:21, 42:38, 52; “+” sign, pls. 41:3,12–14, 42:53, 57; “v” sign, pl. 42:59; horizontal lines, pl. 41:6, 16, 21). More-complex signs come from the Iron II, Megiddo, Strata IV–V (Lamon and Shipton 1939: pls. 41:5, 17, 19, 23; 42:28, 55). At Hazor, an incised “x” as well as other signs appear in Area B (Iron Age I–II) (e.g., Yadin et al. 1958: pl. 84:12–24; finger-impressed handle, pl. 84:7–10). Three horizontal and two vertical lines in “tic-tac-toe” pattern appear in Beth Shean, Stratum S-3a, 12th century b.c.e. (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2009: pl. 51:11). Jar handles with finger impressions appear in Late Bronze, Iron Age I, and II. These include, for example, LB  II: Ashdod, Stratum XV (Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 18:10); Tel Batash, Stratum VII (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pl. 29:5); Iron I: Tel Miqne, Stratum VI (see table 1; see also Ben-Shlomo 2006b: 190, cat. no. 4); Ashdod, Stratum XIII (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.6:18–1); Ashdod, Stratum XI (Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.60:2, double finger-impressed); and Batash Stratum V (Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2006: pls. 76:9, 79:5). Other examples from southern Israel come from Khirbet Qeiyafa, the Iron IIA, with more than 70 examples through the 2008 season (Garfinkel and Kang 2009: 137, figs. 6.24:16–20, 6.36–6.39; several of the examples have two or three impressions on the handle). Examples from northern sites come from Megiddo, Iron II, Strata III–V (Lamon and Shipton 1939, one impression: pls. 41:22, 24, 25; 42:30, 35, 50; two or three impressions: pls. 41:26–27; 42:31–34, 36–41, 44–48; finger-impressed and incised: pls. 41:21; 42:38, 52); Iron I, Level K-4 (Arie 2006: fig. 13.62:5; one to three impressions, figs. 13.62:5–7, 13.65:6; three impressions, fig. 13.70:4). Others come from Hazor (e.g., Yadin et al. 1958: pl. 84:7–10) and Yoqneʿam (Ben-Tor et al. 2005: 309–12, fig. 2.36, finger impressions, reed impressions, and incisions); Iron I, Stratum XVII–XVI (Ben-Tor et al. 2005: fig. 1.10:1, three impressions; fig. 1.15.5, finger impression on two handles; figs. 1.16:8, 1.27:8, finger impression on bottom and “x”); and Iron II, Stratum XIV (Ben-Tor et al. 2005: figs. 1.47:12–14), Stratum XV (BenTor et al. 2005: figs. 1.54:7, 1.55:23–24, 1.61:21, 1.69:9). Finger marks made when the clay is still wet can be interpreted as potter’s marks, as phenomena that are related to some technical aspect of the pottery manufacture such as examining the hardness or quality of the clay, or as caused by the pressure used

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when attaching the handle to the vessel. However, the fact that almost all of these marks are specifically made on the upper part of the jar handles where they are more visible (and sometimes include more than one impression) may indicate another meaning for these marks. Such marks were probably intentionally made to be seen on the storage jars during transport, enabling one to relate to the contents of the vessels, their capacity, and the source or destination (similar to more sophisticated marks). Possibly these finger-marked handles represent a simple, local system of vessel marking and administration, as was suggested in the case of the early Iron Age IIA handles from Khirbet Qeiyafa (Kang and Garfinkel 2009: 144). As the excavators suggest, this system may have inf luenced the administrative system developed in Judah in some way, as attested by the stamped LMLK jars from about 300 years later. Although finger-impressed jar handles also appear in Philistia, at least during Iron Age I, handles with incised marks are more common. This may ref lect different administrative systems or techniques between Philistia and Judah (this question calls for further research). Note also that there are hardly any markings at the northern site of Rosh Zayit, possibly a Phoenician Iron Age IIA outpost (Gal and Alexandre 2000). Perhaps this recording system was not used in this region. Other possibilities are that the marks were made only later, after the jars were distributed; or they were made just before sending them out, and therefore they were not preserved in the storage area of Rosh Zayit. Other marked vessels from the Iron Age that can be noted are late Iron Age pithoi from Tel ʿIra, with various markings on their bodies (Kletter 1999, mostly pre-fired and including some Hebrew letters). Another well-known phenomenon is the marked handles (see Maeir 2010; Shai et al. forthcoming) or rims of Iron Age II cooking pots, as at Ashdod, Stratum VIIIB (Dothan 1971: fig. 46:8); Dor (Sharon et al. 1987); and Yoqneʿam (Ben-Tor et al. 2005: 283–93, figs. 1.39:6; 1.44:10; 1.46:1–3, 12–13; 1.58:3; 1.61:11, with detailed discussion). These markings may ref lect functions other than the marks on storage jar handles. In addition, they are not very common during the LB II and Iron Age I in Philistia. Therefore, they may represent a separate phenomenon and have not been included in this study.

Petrographic Analysis Another aspect of this study is the petrographic analysis of marked jar handles. This analysis may indicate where the jars were made but not necessarily where they were incised or marked after their firing. The production locations of the marked jars may indicate whether the system of marking related only to local transport and consumption of commodities or to a larger scale of trade. If this system was related to an Aegean tradition brought by the Philistines, we would expect that most of the jars that were incised before firing were locally made, in Philistia, while the jars that were incised after firing may have had various origins (because they could have been incised in Philistia after their arrival there).

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Preliminary results of the petrographic analysis of several jar handles from Ashkelon (carried out by D. Master) that were incised after firing indicate that the jars came from several regions. While the Late Bronze Age II sampled handles were made in Cyprus/northwest Syria (Cross and Stager 2006), most of the Iron Age I jars analyzed were found to come from Phoenicia or from the region of Dor; only one example was made locally in Ashkelon. The majority of finger-impressed handles from early Iron Age IIA Khirbet Qeiyafa analyzed by petrography (Ben-Shlomo 2009: 165) were made of clay similar to that which is local to the site (15 of 20 samples). Two or three examples were made of a different soil that is more typical of the southern Shephelah or the coastal plain. One handle with a finger impression may have been made in the coastal plain region to the west. Thus, most of the impressions on the jars at Qeiyafa were either made at the site, in its vicinity, or in neighboring regions. As a followup to the Ashkelon results, analysis of 20 marked handles from Tel Miqne–Ekron was carried out with the preliminary results described below. 3 These include 3 examples from LB II (Stratum VIII), 16 from Iron Age I (Strata VII–IV) and one from Iron Age IIC (Stratum IC); 18 are incised and 2 have finger impressions. Samples were obtained by standard thin sectioning of the pottery sherds and were then examined through a petrographic polarizing microscope (see detailed description in Ben-Shlomo 2009: 161). The samples were divided into “petrographic groups” (the numbering is arbitrary) according to the characteristics of the matrix (clay background, plastic inclusions) and inclusions (temper and nonplastic components). The petrographic results indicate that most, if not all, of these vessels were made in southern Israel, i.e., the southern coastal plain or the Shephelah. However, several petrographic groups indicate that these jars were made in at least three different locations. Two of the samples are made of “brown soil” clay probably derived from the southern coastal plain (Group 1: see Ben-Shlomo 2006c: 167; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2009: 2267–68), 8 are of calcareous clay, probably derived from the dark rendzina soils typical of the Tel Miqne–Ekron area and the Shephelah (Group 2: see, e.g., Goren et al. 2004: 281–82; Goren and Halperin 2004: 2554; Ben-Shlomo 2006c: 172, Group C), while 6 or 7 are made of loess type soils (Group 3: see, e.g., Master 2003; Ben-Shlomo 2006c: 169–71; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2009: 2268–69), more typical of the southern Shephelah and southern coastal plain. Three examples are made of different fabrics that may come from locations that are not yet determined, possibly from the northern Levantine coast. The handles deriving from LB II contexts are from the same source. Generally, the incised handles show quite variable sourcing, although not from distant regions. This very preliminary result seems to be quite different from the picture in contemporary Ashkelon, where the vessels have variable sources, including examples 3.  This analysis is aimed to be part of a wider and more comprehensive archaeological and petrographic study of marked handles of storage jars from the late-second-millennium eastern Mediterranean.

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that were imported from either Phoenicia or Cyprus; however, both sampled assemblages are relatively small.

Discussion: Marked Handles in the Eastern Mediterranean The nature and function of the marking of pottery vessels, mostly after firing, in the Bronze Age eastern Mediterranean—primarily from the Levant and Cyprus—have been studied in the past by Nicolle Hirschfeld (e.g., Hirschfeld 1993; 1996; 2000; 2002; 2007). In a study of over 100 marked vessels from Ugarit and Ras Ibn Hani, including painted marks (Hirschfeld 2000; the signs themselves were previously studied in Masson 1977; for Cyprus, see also Schaeffer 1932; Daniel 1941), most marked items were Aegean vessels, often marked under the base, while some were Canaanite jars (Hirschfeld 2000: 166). Marks under the base seem to preclude a redistributive related function of the marks, because one must turn over the vessel for viewing. Many of these vessels come from tombs (usually one marked vessel per tomb); incised marks are more common on handles; some vessels have painted marks on bases (Hirschfeld 2000: 176–7); and some carry both. The most common marks are “+,” “x,” and two horizontal lines with one vertical line; only a few marks (all on Aegean vessels) correspond to known Cypro-Minoan signs (Hirschfeld 2000: 182). Hirschfeld suggests that the specific marking on the handles of non-Aegean vessels could be a local marking system, maybe related to funerary rites in tombs, or could possibly be related to some Cypriot language and/or script; however, this is still difficult to prove (Hirschfeld 2000: 184), especially since the Canaanite jars do not bear signs corresponding to Cypro-Minoan signs. Therefore, these marks could fit different redistribution or exchange systems in the Aegean, Cyprus, and the Levant. Because post-firing incised marks are also common in Cyprus on nontransport vessels, it has been suggested that this system could have originated in Cyprus; however, it was used outside the island as well. At Enkomi, at least 250 marked vessels were found (Hirschfeld 2002), some from tombs dated to Late Cypriot I–Late Cypriot IIC (until 1,200 b.c.e.), while a few date later. Of these, 25 have more than one sign on them, apparently representing “inscriptions.” Nonfunerary marked vessels mostly come from secondary deposits. The marks show a great deal of variety, with no more than 5 vessels having the same mark (Hirschfeld 2002: 93). Most signs from Philistia described above also appear in this repertoire. However, clear Cypro-Minoan marks appear only on Aegean and Cypriot vessels, and none on Canaanite jars. In addition, red-lustrous bottles have pre-firing marks on the bases, which are probably real “potter’s marks” (Hirschfeld 2002: 95). The site with the largest number of incised storage jar handles to date outside the Levant is Hala Sultan Tekke on Cyprus. The assemblage of 247 marked vessels from this site was catalogued by Hirschfeld (http://hstpotmarks.pointinspace.com/fmi/ iwp). Around 80 of the markings can be clearly linked with “Canaanite jar” handles,

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while the rest were made on Mycenean or Cypriot vessels, on jugs, or on cooking pots. These markings include all common signs appearing on Canaanite jar handles in the Levant: the “x” sign (cat. no. hst125, Åström et al. 1977: fig. 121); the “+” sign (e.g., hst029, hst100, hst119, e.g., Åström 1983: fig. 193:right); horizontal lines (e.g., cat. nos. hst163, hst150, hst216); the “v” sign (cat. no. hst028, Åström et al. 1976: figs. 97–98); diagonal and horizontal lines (cat. nos. hst090, hst153, Åström 1998: fig. 141:right); and “psi-like” signs (cat. no. hst168, Åström 1998: fig. 235). Nearly all the signs appearing at Tel Miqne also appear at Hala Sultan Tekke; however, many other types, such as finger-impressed jar handles (e.g., Cat. no. hst139, e.g. Öbrink 1979: fig. 110d; Hult 1971: fig. 113) also appear. A preliminary survey of examples from Kition, which probably date from the late 13th to the 11th centuries b.c.e. (Karageorghis and Demas 1985: “under Floor III,” Floor III, Floor II and wells), indicates a variety of signs that also appear in the southern Levant. For example, the “x” sign (Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pls. 190:5338, 210:5472), the “+” sign (Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pls. 214:5453; 229:932, 5497), two horizontal lines crossed by a vertical line (Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pl. 238:2514), the “sun-dial” (Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pl. 238:2513), and a square (Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pl. 210:5069). As in other Cypriot sites, several other signs appear, and there are several examples of two to five consecutive or linked incised signs on the handle that probably ref lect “inscriptions” (e.g., Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pls. 214:913; 190:3249, 5189; 192:3328A, 3328B; 201:2580, 5201; 229:4361). While some single signs may also ref lect parts of similar “inscriptions,” several are clearly freestanding single signs (e.g., Karageorghis and Demas 1985: pls. 220:5548, 190:4307, 210:5069, 238:2513). While these marks seem to be some sort of administrative marking system, the connection between most of the signs and the Cypro-Minoan script is still far from clear (Hirschfeld 2002). At first glance, this marking system seems to represent a similar picture to that appearing in Philistia. Moreover, practically all the signs appearing on the published handles from Ashkelon have been interpreted by Cross and Stager as representing Cypro-Minoan signs. Five or six of the more complex signs come from Bronze Age levels, while only one or two are from Iron Age I levels. Nevertheless, simple signs such as the “+,” “x,” “v,” or horizontal/vertical/diagonal lines appear in various sites and periods in the southern Levant and elsewhere (see above). It therefore seems that the evidence from Ashkelon regarding the usage of Cypro-Minoan signs by the Philistines ref lected in the marks incised on jar handles is still quite limited and indeterminate. A similar conclusion was made by N. Hirschfeld (2007) based on 12, mostly Late Bronze Age, marked handles found at Tel Mor. Thus, the more complex signs, possibly relating to the Cypro-Minoan system, are more likely to represent marking practices used during the LB II period in Cyprus, and possibly in the southern Levant, as was suggested for a marked handle from 13th-century b.c.e. Aphek (Yasur Landau and Goren 2004). Generally, however, the very similar repertoire of signs appearing in Philistia, other Levantine sites, and Cyprus

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on the same type of vessels, such as the Canaanite commercial jar (or linked types), cannot be ignored and is unlikely to be coincidental. Moreover, larger assemblages of such incised handles were found in Philistia than in other regions in Israel, especially during Iron Age I. Therefore, the “Cypriot connection” of this marking system in Iron Age Philistia can be suggested at least on circumstantial grounds. The preliminary petrographic results from Ashkelon, Tel Miqne, and the single LB II example from Aphek show that the jars that were marked were produced in several places: Cyprus, the northern Levant, and the southern Levant. This variability makes the interpretation of the marks themselves more difficult. While jars made in Cyprus that carry possible Cypro-Minoan signs were more likely marked in Cyprus, jars with similar marks but made in the Levant could have been marked either in the Levant or in Cyprus (reused there, as Yasur-Landau and Goren 2004 suggest for the example of Aphek). Interestingly, none of the Iron Age I marked jars was made in Cyprus (according to both the Ashkelon and Tel Miqne results); thus, these examples were probably marked in the Levant. It is very likely that the marking system represented by the various incised marks on the handle, which may have had its roots in Late Bronze Age Cyprus, was quite well known and used in the Levant in the early Iron Age. Notably, in the same period, this system’s use on Cyprus seems to have been radically decreasing. This recording system was clearly related to some small-scale administration or redistribution system in the region. Whether it was linked more strongly to Philistine culture in the southern coastal plain and whether it was directly linked to some Cypro-Minoan script, possibly brought by the Philistines, is still to be determined. These assertions are difficult to prove due to the appearance of the same marks in areas outside Philistia and due to the universal nature of many of them. Possibly, if the marked jars from northern Israel were to be analyzed by petrography, one would want to determine whether they were made locally or brought from another region. If they were sourced to Philistia, this could strengthen the hypothesis considerably that characterizes this marking system as Philistine. The issue of pot marks made before or after firing is indeed highly complicated and will require much more research into the marks themselves, the vessels carrying them, and the archaeological contexts in which they were found.

Bibliography Arie, E. 2006 The Iron Age I Pottery: Levels K-5 and K-4 and an Intra-Site Spatial Analysis of the Pottery from Stratum VIA. Pp. 191–298 in Megiddo IV: The 1998–2002 Season, ed. I. Finkelstein, D. Ussishkin, and B. H. Halpern. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Åström, P. 1983 Hala Sultan Tekke, vol. 8: Excavations 1971–1979. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 45/8. Gothenburg: Åströms. 1998 Hala Sultan Tekke, vol. 10: The Wells. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 45/10. Jonsered: Åströms.

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Åström, P.; Bailey, D. M.; and Karageorghis, V. 1976 Hala Sultan Tekke, vol. 1: Excavations 1897–1971. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 45/1. Gothenburg: Åströms. Åström, P.; Hult, G.; and Olofsson, M. 1977 Hala Sultan Tekke, vol. 3: Excavations 1972. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 45/3. Gothenburg: Åströms. Ben-Shlomo, D. 2006a New Evidence of Seals and Sealings from Philistia. Tel Aviv 33: 134–62. 2006b Selected Objects. Pp. 189–205 in Tel Miqne–Ekron: Excavations 1995–1996, Field INE East Slope—Late Bronze II–Iron I (The Early Philistine City), ed. M. W. Meehl, T. Dothan and S. Gitin. The Tel Miqne–Ekron Final Field Report 8. Jerusalem: W. F. Albright Institute. 2006c Decorated Philistine Pottery: An Archaeological and Archaeometric Study. British Archaeological Reports, International Series 1541. Oxford: Archaeopress. 2009 Petrographic Analysis of Iron Age Pottery. Pp. 161–73 in Khirbet Qeiyafa, vol. 1: Excavation Report 2007–2008, ed.Y. Garfinkel and S. Ganor. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Ben-Shlomo, D.; Uziel, J.; and Maeir, A. M. 2009 Pottery Production at Tell es-Safi/Gath: A Longue Durée Perspective. Journal of Archaeological Science 36/10: 2258–73. Ben-Tor, A.; Zarzecki-Peleg, A.; and Cohen-Anidjar, S. 2005 Yoqneʿam II. The Iron Age and the Persian Period: Final Report of the Archaeological Excavation (1977– 1988). Qedem Report 6. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Cross, F. M., and Stager, L. E. 2006 Cypro-Minoan Inscriptions Found in Ashkelon. Israel Exploration Journal 56: 129–59. Daniel, J. F. 1941 Prolegomena to the Cypro-Minoan Script. American Journal of Archaeology 45: 273–78. Dothan, M. 1971 Ashdod II–III. ʿAtiqot 9–10. Jerusalem: Department of Antiquities and Museums. Dothan, M., and Ben-Shlomo, D. 2005 Ashdod VI: Excavations of Areas H and K (1968–1969). Israel Antiquities Authority Report 24. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Dothan, M., and Porath, Y. 1993 Ashdod V. ʿAtiqot 23. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Dothan, T. 1982 The Philistines and Their Material Culture. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Dothan, T., and Dothan, M. 1992 People of the Sea: The Search for the Philistines. New York: Macmillan. Franken, H. J. 1964 Clay Tablets from Deir ʿAllā, Jordan. Vetus Testamentum 14: 377–79. Gal, Z., and Alexandre, Y. 2000 Horbat Rosh Zayit: An Iron Age Storage Fort and Village. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 8. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Goren, Y.; Finkelstein, I.; and Naʾaman, N. 2004 Inscribed in Clay: Provenance Study of the Amarna Tablets and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Goren, Y., and Halperin, N. 2004 Selected Petrographic Analyses. Pp. 2553–68 in The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994), vol. 5, ed. D. Ussishkin. 5 vols. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Hirschfeld, N. 1993 Incised Marks (Post-Firing) on Aegean Wares. Pp. 311–8 in Proceedings of the International Conference “Wace and Blegen: Pottery as Evidence for Trade in the Aegean Bronze Age, 1939–1989,” ed. C. Zerner, P. Zerner, and J. Winder. Amsterdam: Gieben.

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Hirschfeld, N. 1996 Cypriots in the Mycenaean Aegean. Pp.  289–97 in Atti e memorie del secundo congresso internazionale di micenologia, ed. E. De Miro, L. Godart, and A. Sacconi. Rome. Gruppo editoriale internazionale. 2000 Marked Late Bronze Age Pottery from the Kingdom of Ugarit. Pp. 163–200 in Céramiques mycéniennes, ed. M. Yon, V. Karageorghis, and N. Hirschfeld. Ras Shamra–Ougarit 13. Paris: Études et Recherche sur les Civilisations. 2002 Marks on Pots: Patterns of Use in the Archaeological Record at Enkomi. Pp. 49–109 in Script and Seal Use on Cyprus in the Bronze and Iron Ages, ed. J. S. Smith. Boston: American Institute of Archaeology. 2007 Potmarks. Pp. 183–90 in Tel Mor: The Moshe Dothan Excavations, 1959–1960, ed. T. J. Barako. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 32. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Hult, G. 1981 Hala Sultan Tekke, vol. 7: Excavations in Area 8 in 1977. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 45/7. Gothenburg: Åströms. Kang, H., and Garfinkel, Y. 2009 The Early Iron Age IIA Pottery. Pp. 119–49 in Khirbet Qeiyafa, vol. 1: Excavation Report 2007– 2008, ed. Y. Garfinkel and S. Ganor. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Karageorghis, V., and Demas, M. 1985 Excavations at Kition V: The Pre-Phoenician Levels. Nicosia: Department of Antiquities. Kletter, R. 1999 Late Iron Age Pithoi with Potter’s Marks. Pp. 140–52 in Tel Ira: A Stronghold in the Biblical Negev, ed. I. Beit Arieh. Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology, Tel Aviv University 15. Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology. Lamon, R. S., and Shipton, G. M. 1939 Megiddo I. Chicago: Oriental Institute. Maeir, A. M. 2010 “And brought in the offerings and the tithes and the dedicated things faithfully” (2 Chron. 31:12): On the Meaning and Function of the Late Iron Age Judahite ‘Incised Handle Cooking Pots.’ ” Journal of the American Oriental Society 130: 43–62. Masson, E. 1974 Cyprominoica: Repertoires, documents de Ras Shamra, essays d’interpretation. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 31/2. Gothenburg: Åströms. Master, D. M. 2003 Trade and Politics: Ashkelon’s Balancing Act in the Seventh Century b.c.e. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 330: 47–64. Mazar, A. 1985 Excavations at Tell Qasile, Part Two: The Philistine Sanctuary—Various Finds, The Pottery, Conclusions, Appendixes. Qedem 20. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Mazar, A., and Panitz-Cohen, N. 2001 Timnah (Tel Batash) II: The Finds from the First Millennium bce. Qedem 42. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Öbrink, U. 1979 Hala Sultan Tekke, vol. 5: Excavations in Area 22, 1971–1973 and 1975–1978. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 45/5. Gothenburg: Åströms. Panitz-Cohen N., and Mazar A. (eds.) 2006 Timnah (Tel Batash) III: The Finds from the Second Millennium bce. Qedem 45. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem 2009 Excavations at Tel Beth-Shean 1989–1996, vol. 3. The Beth-Shean Valley Archaeological Project Publication 3. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

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Serpico, M.; Bourriau, J.; Smith, L.; Goren, Y.; Stern, B.; and Heron, C. 2003 Commodities and Containers: A Project to Study Canaanite Amphorae Imported into Egypt during the New Kingdom. Pp. 365–75 in The Synchronisation of Civilizations in the Eastern Mediterranean in the Second Millennium bc, vol. 2: Proceedings of the SCIEM 2000 Euro-Conference, Haindorf, May 2001, ed. M. Bietak. Vienna: Osterreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Shai, I.; Ben-Shlomo, D.; and Maeir, A. M. 2012 Late Iron Age Judean Cooking Pots with Impressed Handles: A New Class of Stamped Impressions from the Kingdom of Judah. Pp. 225–44 in ‘Go Out and Study the Land’ ( Judges 18:2): Archaeological, Historical and Textual Studies in Honor of Hanan Eshel, ed. A. M. Maeir, J. Magness, and L. H. Schiffman. Supplement to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 148. Leiden: Brill. Singer, I. 1983 Inscriptions from Aphek. Cathedra 27: 19–26. [Hebrew] 1994 Egyptians, Canaanites, and Philistines in the Period of the Emergence of Israel. Pp. 282–338 in From Nomadism to Monarchy: Archaeological and Historical Aspects of Early Israel, ed. I. Finkelstein and N. Naʾaman. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Smith, L. M. V.; Bourriau, J. D.; Goren, Y.; Hughes, M. J.; and Serpico, M. 2004 The Provenance of Canaanite Amphorae Found at Memphis and Amarna in the New Kingdom: Results 2000–2002. Pp.  55–77 in Invention and Innovation: The Social Context of Technological Change, vol. 2: Egypt, the Aegean and the Near East 1650–1150 bc, ed. J. Bourriau and J. Phillips. Oxford: Oxbow. Stieglitz, R. R. 1977 Inscribed Seals from Tell Ashdod: The Philistine Script. Kadmos 16: 97. Sugerman, M. O. 2000 Webs of Commerce: The Archaeology of Ordinary Things in Late Bronze Age Israel and Palestine. Ph.D. dissertation. Harvard University. Yadin, Y.; Aharoni, Y.; Amiran, R.; Dothan, T.; Dunayevsky, I.; and Perrot, J. 1958 Hazor I: An Account of the First Season of Excavations, 1953. Jerusalem: Magnes. Yasur-Landau, A. 2002 Social Aspects of Aegean Settlement in the Southern Levant in the End of the 2nd Millennium bce. Ph.D. dissertation. Tel Aviv University. Yasur-Landau, A., and Goren, Y. 2004 A Cypro-Minoan Potmark from Aphek. Tel Aviv 31: 22–31.

The Southwestern Border of Judah in the Ninth and Eighth Centuries b.c.e. Jeffrey A. Blakely

James W. Hardin

University of Wisconsin–Madison Mississippi State University

Daniel M. Master Wheaton College

The southwestern border of Judah in the late 8th century b.c.e. can be traced by following the path of Assyrian destructions through a series of settlements to the south and southwest of the Judean foothills and the Shephelah between Lachish and Tel Beer-sheba. These settlements are preserved as a number of small conical mounds dotting the landscape and were earlier identified by G. E. Wright (1971) as Judahite border sites. Blakely and Horton (2001) and Blakely and Hardin (2002) have understood these sites as border forts that functioned together with heartland interior sites as part of an integrated system. While it seems certain that this system was destroyed by the Assyrians or their allies in the late 8th century b.c.e., it is less certain how far back this system extends.

An Unlikely Border Region If one stands on Tel Hasi (Tell el-Hesi), which is roughly in the middle of the study area, and scans the horizons on all sides, one sees the Shephelah in the far east and the coastal sand dunes just north of Gaza along the Mediterranean Sea in the far west. In every other direction, one sees loessic plains through which a system of wadis is cut. One characteristic of loessic plains is that they do not support surface collection areas for water, which is simply sucked from the surface until the loess is saturated, at which time the water drains quickly into the wadis and runs off. For this reason, good sources of potable water in loessic plains are rare, thereby limiting the area’s potential for supporting true towns. There are exceptions, however, and a few well-watered locations do exist. The 19th- and 20th-century Bedouin knew of seven sources of water in the loessic plains of the Beer-sheba region: the wadis Hesi and Saba, which have potable water; and the wadis Shallaleh, Sharia, Imshash, Aslouge, and Araba, which only have salt water (al-Aref 1944: 185). 1 In the Wadi el-Hesi, now Nahal Shiqma, the two main 1.  It may be significant that the only Judahite penetration into the plains was in the two wadis with potable water.

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Map of Iron II Archaeological Sites in Western Judah (map prepared by Daniel Master).

water sources are Ain Qassaba and the springs at the base of Tel Hasi. These last two sources emerge where the limestone bedrock protrudes through the loess providing water sources in an otherwise barren region. A loessic plain with rare water sources seems a poor contender for political significance in the southern Levant. While the region sits between the cosmopolitan ports to the west and the fertile Shephelah valleys to the east, it can compete with neither. Indeed, throughout most of the region’s history, borders were located elsewhere, usually to the south of Gaza and north of el-Arish; and this is true of a wide variety of political, cultural, and socioeconomic systems that have controlled Palestine—from expansionist empires based in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Anatolia, Greece, and Rome to indigenous, nonsedentary Bedouin. A system of city states has been postulated for this region in the Early, Middle, and Late Bronze Ages (Finkelstein and Gophna 1993; Broshi and Gophna 1986). However, suggested borders for the Early Bronze Age, the Middle Bronze Age (Burke 2008: 125–39), and the Late Bronze Age (e.g., Finkelstein 1996a: 255) do not fall in this region. For the transition from Late Bronze Age to Early Iron Age, we see a pattern of governors’ residencies, or estate manor houses (Oren 1985; Herzog 1997b: 181–9), but they also are not centered in this region.

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When we momentarily skip the Iron Age and proceed down into the Persian period, we see that the study region was located near a disputed border with Egypt, which was independent from Satrapy V during at least some of this period (Avi-Yonah 1966; Stern 2001). During the Roman–Byzantine period, it appears that the region largely consisted of unfortified towns and villages (Tsafrir, Di Segni, and Green 1994; Dauphin 1998; Figueras 2000). With the coming of Islam and on through the Umayyad, Abbasid, and Fatimid periods, settlements in the region included unfortified towns, villages, and estates (Lecker 1989; Gil 1992). In the Crusader period, Beit Jibrin was the sole castle near the study area (with the small fortress of el-Burg sitting farther east). A Crusader deed, which included much of the study area, described it as consisting of unfortified agricultural villages (Paoli 1733: 150–53). 2 During the Ayyubid-Mamluk period, travelers such as Fabri (1843) and geographers such as al-ʾUmari (Hartmann 1916: 488), al-Qalqashandi (Gaudefroy-Demombynes 1923: 242), and al-Zahiri (1950: 201) describe a series of caravanserai along a road system passing through desert fringed by small unfortified agrarian villages. Such villages as well as a police station at Beit Jibrin during the Early Ottoman period are known from historical sources (Hütteroth and Abdulfattah 1977; Heyd 1960). In the 19th century, Edward Robinson (1841) and the Survey of Western Palestine (Conder and Kitchener 1883) described poor, unfortified villages as typical of the area. In sum, during all of these periods dominated by various types of political entities, no border was established in the study region. However, the archaeological data are strikingly different during the Iron Age II.

An Assyrian Window into an Eighth-Century Border In 701 b.c.e., during the third campaign of Sennacherib, a series of settlements in this region were devastated and much of their population was deported (e.g., Oded 1979; Gonçalves 1986; Grabbe 2003). 3 Excavated sites in the region exhibiting evidence of destruction in the late 8th century, which is commonly attributed to Sennacherib in 701, include Tel Lachish, Tel ʿEreini, Tel Hasi, Tel ʿEitun, Tel Beit Mirsim, 2.  Subsequent to the preparation of this essay, Yaakov Huster and Blakely (in press) undertook a study of this deed. They concluded that the lands described mark an almost theoretical border between the Crusader county of Ascalon and the Islamic city of Gaza in the 1240s and 1250s. Apparently the Crusaders viewed the Wadi el-Hesi as the border, even though the Islamic forces held lands north of said wadi. In 1256/7, the Crusaders were hoping to reestablish the border along the Wadi el-Hesi, but this effort failed. 3. Biblical texts that refer to Assyrians in the southern Levant include references to Tiglath-pileser III in Israel and Judah (2 Kgs 15:29; 16:10; 2 Chr 28:16–21), Shalmaneser V’s actions against the north (2 Kgs 17:2–6; 18:9–12), and Sennacherib’s campaign (2 Kgs 18:13–19:37; 2 Chr 32:1–24; Isa 36:1–37:38). For a more complete list and an extended discussion of Assyria and its relationship with Judah and its environs near the end of the 8th century, see Blakely and Hardin 2002 and its bibliography.

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Tel Halif, Makkedah, Debir, and, in the south, Tel Beer-sheba. Pottery sherds dating to the late 8th century are known at Tel Burna, Tel Sheqef, Tel Qeshet, and Tel Milh, and it is likely that all or most of these settlements also were destroyed. The Assyrians report that this devastating campaign was directed against two kingdoms: a political entity centered in Ashkelon ruled by Sidqa and one in Judah ruled by Hezekiah (COS 3.302–4; Rainey and Notley 2006: 244). 4 While the destructions of these sites provide a window into the world of Judah, Gaza, and Ashkelon, sociopolitical, economic, and military details are a matter of some dispute. In 1971, G. E. Wright identified the excavated sites of Tel Hasi and Tel ʿEreini as regional Iron II Judahite border settlements. He further suggested that the unexcavated sites of Tel Qeshet, Tel Burna, and Tel Milh fit the same criteria based on the presence of Iron II diagnostic sherds found on their surfaces. Blakely and Horton (2001) and Blakely and Hardin (2002) understand these sites as an integrated series of forts extending from Burna to Halif, functioning as a fortified frontier in conjunction with heartland administrative cities in the late 8th century b.c.e. Recently, Finkelstein and Naʾaman (2004) argued in response to Blakely and Hardin (2002) that Tel Hasi and Tel ʿEreini were part of Philistia. While the basis for this comment is unclear, it still raises an interesting problem. How is one to tell whether a site is Judahite or Philistine in such an integrated world as that of the 8th century in southern Syria-Palestine? After all, a border in this area was unlikely at the outset, with the natural border throughout history located farther to the southwest. And unlike in earlier periods, when a host of cultural traditions seem to be emblematic of Philistia (Stager 1995; Dothan 1982), at least by the 7th century there is a great deal of ceramic similarity between Ashkelon, a clearly Philistine city (Master 2003; Stager, Master, and Schloen 2011: 72–96), and Lachish, a clearly Judahite one (Zimhoni 1990). Gitin’s observations on the nature of the Philistine-Judahite border in the Iron II period are crucial (Gitin 2003; Stone 1995). He argues that, following the collapse of Philistine power in the 10th century, the Philistines maintained their ethnic identity while at the same time importing most of the cultural manifestations of their neighbors. This included language, architecture, ceramics, industrial technology, and cultic practices (Gitin 2003: 61). With regard to the Philistines’ neighbors, the most emblematic type of material culture for the late 8th century is the Judahite stamped jar. Vaughn’s exhaustive summary (1999: 164–66) of known exemplars shows that stamped-jar distribution was generally limited to the cities that were under the sway of Judahite control, particularly in cases where a large number of stamped handles have 4.  One Philistine city of particular interest is Beth-Dagon, described as being destroyed in the same breath as Joppa, Bene-Barak, and Azor. While this particular Beth-Dagon is usually placed near the other three sites (Beit Dajan), it is also possible that this Beth-Dagon is related to the city of the same name mentioned in Joshua 15, where it formed the part of the southwestern border of Judah. In any case, it appears that Sennacherib was equally interested in sending a message to Hezekiah and Sidqa.

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been found. As Naʾaman has described the 8th-century Judahite border (1991), the large number of both LMLK and royal official seals found at Tel ʿEreini is a potent argument for its inclusion as a Judahite city. 5 Tel Hasi presents a different problem. Despite extensive excavations, no Judahite stamped-jar handles were found, and the site is farther west than the other significant Judahite sites on this part of the border. Further, the ancient name of the site is unknown. Robinson (1841; 1848) and Ritter (1866) pointed toward Ziklag; Albright (1924) suggested Eglon; but neither of these identifications has survived serious scrutiny (Rainey 1983; Blakely and Horton 2001). The excavators discerned a large fort constructed on the site (Stratum VIII-D) in the early to mid-9th century b.c.e., which experienced three occupational phases (Strata VIII-C, VIII-B, and VIII-A) before being destroyed by the Assyrians in the late 8th century. In addition, the Tel Hasi excavators noted architectural parallels in Hasi’s fortification system with Lachish IV, now dated to the early 9th century based on the chronological observations of Herzog and Singer-Avitz (2004).

Tracing the Border Two of the most direct attempts to deal with the role of Tel Hasi and this border are found in the works of Naʾaman (1991) and Finkelstein (1996b). Naʾaman’s work is less detailed but far more explicit. In his description of the border as seen through LMLK and rosette-seal impressions, Naʾaman includes Tel Sheqef to the west of Tel Hasi within his Judahite border (Naʾaman 1991: 32). And his description of the border according to the border lists of Joshua 15 (which he dates to the 7th century) again places Tel Hasi within the Judahite fold (Naʾaman 1991: 19). Finkelstein attempted to describe Late Bronze and Iron Age settlement (Finkelstein 1996a; 1996b). In the Bronze Age, he associated Tel Hasi with Lachish based on its proximity, while in the Iron Age I, he placed it under the hegemony of Gath (Tel Safi) based on a biblical reference (1 Sam 27:6). One could temporally extend Finkelstein’s regional study into the Iron II period. In the 8th century, if we step back from the border and compile a list of the cities that appear to be clearly in the Philistine or Judahite polities (once the power of Gath was broken by the Arameans), we see excavated Philistine centers (Finkelstein’s “Type F”) at Ashkelon and Gaza and such towns as Tel Sera, Tel Haror, Tel Gamma, and Tel Sharuhen in this region. With regard to Judah, one sees excavated centers at Tel Lachish and Tel Beer-sheba and fortified towns at Tel Halif, Tel Beit Mirsim, and Tel ʿEton. The border forts we have identified (Tel Burna, Tel ʿEreini, 5.  Finkelstein and Naʾaman (2004) chose to ignore the evidence from Tel ʿEreini because it is not “fully published in a meticulous way,” while at the same time engaging in extensive discussions of partially published strata at Tel Halif, Tel Beer-sheba, and Tel ʿEton. This seems arbitrary. Instead, we have chosen to interpret the abundant evidence provided by seals from Tel ʿEreini within the framework established by Naʾaman’s earlier, more-judicious work (Naʾaman 1991:26).

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Tel Hasi, Tel Qeshet, and Tel Milh) sit between these Judahite and Philistine centers but far closer to the Judahite centers than the Philistine. It is not implausible to suggest that Tel Hasi might function, along with Tel ʿEreini, as a fortress under the sway of Lachish. While Finkelstein’s analysis (1996b) is open to wide-ranging critique because of the difficulty of quantifying landscape resources that skew linear measurements, his method actually argues that Tel Hasi was a Judahite city (contra Finkelstein and Naʾaman 2004). Certainly by the 8th century, after Gath’s power was broken (Amos 6:2), Gath cannot be thought of as the key site controlling Tel Hasi. At the same time that Finkelstein was trying to create a site typology of the region, William Dever (1996) suggested a typology of tells. His idea is unrefined, but he does accurately describe Lachish and Beer-sheba as regional administrative centers. If one then sees Tel Hasi and the other border sites as “Forts” (and not “Nodes” as Dever defined Hasi [1996: 39]), then one has defined a border region. Inland from that would be “nodes” and “satellites,” sites such as Tel Halif, Tel Beit Mirsim, Tel ʿEitun, Debir, and Makkedah, which made up the heartland of Judah in this region. The problem, of course, is that using the principles of historical geography, Tel Hasi really stands outside both the Philistine and Judahite geographic orbits. The Philistine cities were clustered along the coast (Ashkelon, Ashdod, Gaza), along the end point of the southern spice routes (Gaza, Tel Sera; see Ephºal 1984: 15), and surrounding the Philistine alluvial plain (Ashdod, Ashkelon, Gath [Tel Safi], Ekron; see Monson 1998: 8–9; and Schneidewind 1998). At the same time, Judah’s cities were arranged to extend power from the highlands toward the Eocene limestone and chalk hills of the Shephelah. Only in the region of the Beer-sheba valley is it clear that they sought to extend their power farther than these hills, ostensibly to participate in the trade passing from east to west. If Tel Hasi is Judahite, it sits away from the hill country, isolated in the midst of the loessic plains; if, on the other hand, Tel Hasi is Philistine, it represents an outpost beyond the alluvial plain of the Philistine heartland.

Similarities between Tel Lachish and Tel Hasi (Tell el-Hesi) Two of the most heavily excavated sites of the Iron II near the southwestern border of Judah and Philistia are Tel Lachish and Tel Hasi. Even though Tel Lachish is nearly ten times larger than Hasi, excavations at these sites have revealed striking structural parallels. For sure, the twin issues of scale and geological environment at each site inf luenced what the ancient builders erected, but commonality in a broad range of structural features, both visible and buried, suggest a construction process using a unique design that was altered to ref lect scale and availability of local geological resources. The structural parallels between Stratum VIII-D at Tel Hasi and Level IV at Tel Lachish were first identified by members of the Hasi project in the late 1970s as they compared what they were uncovering at Hasi with Tufnell’s Lachish III publication (1953) and with what could still be seen in the balks at Tel Lachish.

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Excavations carried out at Tel Hasi by Petrie, Bliss, and the Joint Expedition revealed several strata dating to the Iron Age. Sometime in the late 10th or 9th centuries, the small governmental center at Tel Hasi (Stratum IX) was abandoned, and a massive constructional effort (Stratum VIII-D) completely altered the site’s function and conception, turning it into a small border fort. The construction of the Stratum VIII-D fortress required the builders first to level the site. The second step was two pronged: (1) the builders excavated a foundation trench for a large lower fortification wall that was to encircle the entire settlement; and (2) they began construction of a “chamber and fill” system atop the southern end of the site. The “chamber and fill” system consisted of a series of interconnecting mud-brick walls that formed a series of chambers around a larger central fill, which raised the level of the site some 4–5 m. It is likely that the third step began as the “chamber and fill” system was being erected. A massive foundation for the lower fortification wall was built of crudely quarried limestone rocks. These foundations extended some 2.00 m below ground level and formed the base of a wall that was 4.50 m thick. As the lower offset-inset fortification wall and the “chamber and fill” system were built, fill was also added to the exterior of the “chamber and fill” system. To stabilize the fill resting against the exterior walls of the piers of the “chamber and fill” system, construction began on an upper fortification wall, or the “Manasseh Wall” as Petrie called it, that partially covered the fill. This mud-brick wall appears to have been set into a step in the original leveling process with no real foundations. The mud-brick wall was some 3.75 m wide. As it was erected, a series of buttress walls were placed along its exterior face with fill placed between the buttresses before they, too, were covered. Inside this wall, fill layers extended from the exterior face of the piers to the interior face of the “Manasseh Wall,” which served as a containing structure. These fill layers were capped with a layer of stones (called by Petrie the “glaçis”) that was plastered, probably to keep the bottom layers of the system dry. Next, the “Manasseh Wall” was widened some 4.00 m, reaching a width of 7.75 m and stepped up and over the sloping “glaçis.” Finally, the “Manasseh Wall” was raised higher, and more fill as well as mud-brick buttressing walls were placed against its interior face. The final stage of the construction of the fortification system created a smooth slope between the lower and upper fortification walls and capped this fill with a thin layer of mud bricks. The excavations undertaken at Tel Lachish by both Starkey and Ussishkin uncovered several strata dating to the Iron Age. At the end of the 10th century or the beginning of the 9th century, the village function of the site was abandoned, possibly after a destruction. At this time, the function and conception of the settlement were altered as a major governmental administrative center/fortress was constructed in Level IV. At Tel Lachish, the outermost part of this fortification system was called the Outer Revetment Wall. Its lower levels, preserved to a height of 2.5 m, consisted of squarely hewn stones, nicely finished on the exterior and less well finished on their interior faces, laid against the existing mound slope. Barkay suggests that the wall originally

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stood about 5 m high and was capped with a mud-brick wall (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 432, 436), as was found but not excavated in Area R (Ussishkin 2004b: 701–7). This Outer Revetment Wall was an offset-inset wall that was about 3.65 m thick encircling the tell about halfway up its slope. Its exterior face was plastered, and there was a pavement at its base running around its exterior surface (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 432, 436; Ussishkin 2004b: 701). Compared with Hasi, this wall is thinner (3.65 m as opposed to 4.5 m) but built of stone rather than mud brick, which likely ref lects the availability of resources at the two sites. Both had an exterior plaster surface and a pavement running below their outer face. The horizontal and vertical separation between the Outer Revetment Wall and the City Wall at Tel Lachish varies by terrain, but it appears that this slope was covered by a variety of capping systems. In Area S, this system included large, loosely laid stones covered by a crushed chalky material, which in turn was covered by a layer of river pebbles (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 437). In Area R, where the two walls ran close together, the space between them consisted of a far more dense stone construction (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 437; Ussishkin: 2004b: 707). The main fortification wall of Tel Lachish during Level IV was City Wall 5. It was a massive mud-brick construction set upon a stone foundation of two to three courses that measured about 1 m in height. The thickness of the wall appears to be 6.00 m while the offset towers were 6.20 m. In the vicinity of Tower W23, and probably elsewhere along the wall, preparations for the wall’s foundations included leveling activities (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 416–24). This in many ways is most similar to the lower fortification wall at Tel Hasi, where the ground was leveled for the “Manasseh Wall.” Barkay and Ussishkin (2004: 416–40) describe a variety of massive constructional fills, partially buried walls, and a rampart that connects City Wall 5 with Podium B. The fills described at Tel Lachish are identical to the fills found at Tel Hasi. Sloping fills dumped from up-slope and containing great amounts of earlier pottery as well as a few 10th/early 9th-century sherds were identified at both sites. The method of capping this fill with a plastered, sloping stone surface identified at Tel Lachish as Rampart 74 (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 439–40) is striking in its similarity to the glaçis at Hasi that was described earlier. 6 Both projects understand their respective features as water diversion devices. The next important feature at Tel Lachish is the large Palace-Fort complex that dominates the tell’s center—identified by the excavators as Podia A and B. A great deal of effort was expended on the podia during Starkey’s and Ussishkin’s excavations. In the end, Ussishkin (2004c: 770–74) argued that Podia A and B are stratigraphically of the same date. Assuming that he is correct, as Podium A was being constructed, the 6.  We must note an error in Barkay and Ussishkin’s report. They call Hasi’s glaçis “recently discovered” (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 440). In actuality, the glaçis was discovered by Petrie (e.g., 1891: 27–28 and pl. 3), but it was only properly understood in 1983.

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conception of the construction changed, necessitating a larger palace complex. If so, Podium A is the earliest known feature of Level IV. Its foundations were built of stone, set into shallow foundation trenches, with the podium rising some 7  m above the deepest foundation. Podium B was added to the south of Podium A, and its foundations, which are also of stone, are 11 m deep in some places. In the end, Podia A and B created a platform of about 75 × 32 m. Walls interior to the podia were built to create chambers virtually identical to the chamber and fill system at Hasi. Constructional fills of stone rubble and earth were used to fill the chambers between the foundation walls, and sloping fills were laid against the exterior of this structure, in particular in the south and west where they connected to City Wall 5. Ussishkin argued that the palace walls atop the podium mimicked the foundation walls, and he also noted that the f loors interior to the structure are found resting on the fills (Ussishkin 2004c: 777–99). An examination of other major structures erected as part of Level IV at Tel Lachish, including the Outer City-Gate, the Inner City-Gate, and the Southern Annexed Building, illustrates that they were constructed using massive buried foundations that were surrounded by extensive fills. The superstructures were built on top of the foundation walls, and the tops of the fill served as the f loors for the superstructures (Ussishkin 2004d: 508–14; 2004c: 802–7). Only the Northern Annexed Building, which was built directly over massive fills, lacked such foundations (Ussishkin 2004c: 800–802). The structural parallels between the podia at Tel Lachish with the “chamber and fill” system at Tel Hasi are striking. A final tie between Lachish and Hasi is brick size. At Lachish, the brick size of the Outer Revetment Wall was 52.5 × 26 × 13 cm (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 417, table 9.2). At Hasi, the brick size of the lower fortification wall was virtually identical, ca. 52 × 26 × 12 cm. Barkay has argued that such measurements are based on the longer Egyptian cubit of 52.5 cm, which was in use when Lachish IV was constructed, but not during the reconstruction of Lachish III (Barkay and Ussishkin 2004: 417, table 9.2). At Hasi, the central “chamber and fill” system is about 26.2 m × 26.4 m, or 50 long cubits × 50 long cubits. This illustrates parallel structural features between the sites as well as contemporaneity. With this understanding of the overall fortification concept at Hasi and Lachish, scholars have sought parallels at other sites in the surrounding region. To our knowledge, no other clear parallels exist. Tantalizing suggestions for extensive 9th-century b.c.e. fills (short of hard evidence, however) can be seen in the preliminary reports from Yeivin’s excavation at Tel ʿEreini ( “Tel Gat”; Yeivin 1961; 1975; 1993; Brandl 1997) and in the remaining balks at that site. Erosion channels at Tel Sheqef can be understood as showing large fills, and the same suggestion can be raised from a robber pit seen at Tel Milh, but none of these rises to the level of data capable of being illustrated. From extensively excavated sites in the region such as Tel Sera, Tel Haror, Tel Gamma, and Tel Sharuhen, Tel Halif, and Tel Beit Mirsim, nothing similar is known, either in reports or in visual inspection of the sites.

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Evidence from the Biblical Texts Biblical descriptions of this border in southwestern Judah provide some additional information. The most detailed list of the cities of Judah is found in the district list of Joshua 15. This list has been dated to the time of Jehoshaphat (Cross and Wright 1956) or to the time of Josiah (Naʾaman 1991). In describing the southwestern border of Judah (see Rainey 1983: 8), Joshua 15 lists Lachish along with a series of cities the identifications of which are uncertain (Eglon, Migdal-Gad, Makkedah) or entirely unknown (Zenan, Hadashah, Dilean, Mizpeh, Joktheel, Bozkath, Cabbon, Lahmas, Chitlish, Gederoth, Beth-dagon, Naamah). Notable in this list is the mention of Beth-dagon, a city with some apparent Philistine ties. Joshua 15 is suggestive because one would be hard pressed to fit this list entirely in the region east of Lachish. In other words, the border described here is likely to be found west of Lachish. On the other hand, how far west the border of Judah should be extended and during what period this maximal border existed are both matters of dispute. The Chronicler is distinctive for his use of lists ( Japhet 1993: 39–41) that occasionally mention events in this border region. Rehoboam, for instance, is said to have fortified Lachish and Azekah before his power was curtailed by Shishak (2 Chronicles 11–12). A bit later, Asa is said to have fought a certain Zerah the Kushite at Mareshah (2 Chronicles 14). In this brief record, regardless of the validity of its historical memory, the Chronicler assumes that the major threat to the southwestern border region would be from the south, rather than from Philistia to the west. This same perspective seems to be part of the Chronicler’s record of a much later attack by Philistia in the days of Ahaz (2 Chronicles 28). The Negev is raided and the Aijalon, Elon, and Sorek valleys of the northern Shephelah are plundered, but very little occurs in the region of the series of forts we have identified as the southwestern border of Judah. The only nearby city is the unknown “Gederoth” ( Josh 15:41; 2 Chr 28:18; Rainey and Notley 2006: 228–29). The biblical texts then reinforce two ideas. First, Joshua 15 seems to support the idea that at some point in the Iron Age Judah’s borders encompassed cities farther west than Lachish. Second, the biblical texts do not record any changes along this portion of the border with Philistia until the end of the 8th century. It seems to have been much more stable than the border with Philistia in the northern Shephelah or the border with Edomite and Arabian tribesmen in the south.

Implications of This Border for This Region in the Ninth and Eighth Centuries If the campaigns of the Assyrians in the late 8th century provide a window into the end of a particular border between the collective holdings of Gaza and Ashkelon and those of Judah, it is interesting to examine when this border might have been established. In this way, one might see the border maintenance as indicative of a longterm policy between Philistia (Gaza and Ashkelon) and Judah (Lachish). First, however,

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we simply note the towns and villages within this border region—towns such as Tel Beit Mirsim, Tel Halif, Debir, Tel Eton, and Makkedah. These towns and villages had normal-sized defensive systems but no massive fills, and they also seem to exhibit normal, organic growth from the 10th through the 8th centuries b.c.e. Compare this with the results of recent work at Lachish and Beer-sheba. Both were massive constructions that show little, if any continuity with what previously existed at each site (Ussishkin 2004a; Herzog and Singer-Avitz 2004). In other words, we are not looking at organic growth here but, rather, at large construction projects that seemingly occurred simultaneously. The interpretation of Tel Hasi, likewise, is that it was a large construction project that was not organic growth from what was there before but that a fort was constructed with limited space within the walls. Such a large construction project running from Lachish to Beer-sheba suggests supervision from a central source—Judah. This was the most recent conclusion of Ussishkin, who argued that the massive building at Lachish stood as “evidence that state formation in Judah occurred not later than the ninth century” (Ussishkin 2004a: 82). While it is plausible to suggest that the building of Tel Hasi was the Philistine response to the fortification of Lachish, we think that the widespread building by Judah in the early 9th century and the similarities between the construction techniques seen at Tel Hasi and Lachish (but at no site in Philistia) tips the scales decidedly in favor of a Judahite source for the building at Tel Hasi. 7 The construction of a system of forts and fortresses in the 9th century entailed a massive expenditure of human capital. A recent study of ancient construction projects was that of Aaron Burke (2008: 141–58), in which he examined the expenditure of human capital in the construction of Middle Bronze Age fortification systems. We will follow his methods, but we note that his conclusions suggest a higher productivity than is assumed by any other modern archaeologist and efficiency far greater than the ethnographic study conducted by Hassan Fathy in Egypt in 1945 and 1946 (Fathy 1973). At Tel Hasi, our best estimate of the volume of bricks and fill used in the initial construction of the double-walled fortification system (Stratum VIII-D) is (assuming with Burke that the walls rose 10 m above the occupational surface): Bricks of the Lower Wall system: 31,000 m3 Bricks of the Upper Wall (“Manasseh”) Wall System:   6,800 m3 Bricks of the “Chamber and Fill” system:   1,200 m3   Total Bricks 39,000 m3 Fill behind the upper wall system and   in and around the “Chamber and Fill” system: 30,000 m3 7.  It would be possible to argue that the entirety of the 9th-century building in the Shephelah and northern Negev was the product of Philistine expansion, but one would then need to explain how this same configuration of fortresses became part of Judah in the 8th century. The lack of evidence for any such change in the configuration of this border is one of our best indicators that the polities of the late 8th century are similar to the polities of the early 9th century.

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For these purposes, we will also assume that the bricks were made locally from Hasi loess: the sand being from Hasi’s barchan dune, the straw from the Hasi fields, and the water from Hasi’s wadi; thus we are minimizing all costs, real and human. Burke concluded that, with all aspects of brick production, including bricklaying, 0.9 m3 of brick walls could be created per worker per day. He also concluded that a worker could excavate and dump 3 m3 of fill per day. Therefore, Hasi’s brickwork would have taken about 43,333 person days 8 and the fill about 10,000 person days, or the construction of the fortification system at Hasi would have taken about 53,333 person days to complete. If one assumes a working year of at most 300 days, then this yields about 185 person years to construct the fortification system for this fortress. One might argue that the impact of such a construction could be minimized by building during the summer, which is the agricultural off-season, but then there must have been a larger work force or a longer time period. During excavation, the Joint Archaeological Expedition to Tell el-Hesi (Tel Hasi) identified general stopping points at a number of spots in the brickwork, which suggested to them that, indeed, it took at least 5 years to build this fort. These stopping points may, however, have only been stages when workers used the incomplete walls as walkways to assist in dumping fill between walls. It is possible, therefore, that the fort could have been constructed in one single effort. Tel Hasi was a small fort, probably about the same size as Tel ʿEreini and Tel Burna but larger than Tel Sheqef, Tel Qeshet, and Tel Milh. A major fortress such as Tel Lachish was probably ten times larger, and Tel Beer-sheba was at least five times larger. All seem to have been fortified in the early to mid-9th century b.c.e. Unfortunately, at this point it is impossible to speculate on the person days expended in these other construction projects using similar assumptions since sufficient data are not available. Simply put, these forts and fortresses are an impressive achievement, and the effort involved in fortifying this border is significant, given the human capital potential of Judah at that time. One of the interesting aspects of the area protected by these small forts is that no villages or towns are known. To be sure, the area is in a loessic deposition zone, and remains from this period might be buried; but given deep plowing and years of survey, we feel confident that no walled towns or villages are to be found here for this period. This suggests that the Judahite population of this region lived either in small and shallow unwalled villages, or they were tent dwellers who moved with the seasons. 8.  Again, this number suggests no acquisition cost, real or human, for the straw. Examination of the bricks shows straw and, if Fathy’s recipe for optimal bricks (Fathy 1973: 198) is close to that used at Hasi, then a little over 1,000,000 pounds, or about 480 metric tons of straw would have been needed. It is suggested that this volume and weight of straw could be acquired from 240 hectares of African millet. Although anything in this range does require work, it does seem possible to meet the straw needs in the immediate vicinity of Hasi in one growing season.

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This is an important observation when trying to understand the construction of these small forts. Tel Hasi is the most extensively excavated of these sites, and the area within its double wall system is about 0.3 hectare. Two public buildings dominate the southern part of the site so, if there was any nonmilitary population, it would have been located in the north. Even if one assumes village populations of 250 persons per hectare for a fort, the resulting 75 people seems an inf lated figure, given Hasi’s public buildings. While archaeological work has identified extramural occupation at the site during the Persian period, none was found dating to the Iron Age to augment this estimated population. Therefore, one is left to conclude that there was no real village component to the site and that it was strictly a fort. If this is true, then where does one find the laborers who constructed the site? And where does one find soldiers to man the fort and to supply its provisions? When considering the similar constructional issues in the Middle Bronze Age, Burke (2008: 153–55) looked favorably toward the military as the builders. In the present case, this also seems likely for both the builders and the people who served at this location.

Implications of this Border for Ninth- and Eighth-Century Judah Whether the massive border fortifications along the southwestern border of Judah are indicators of a “state” rather than “tribal” organization (Master 2001; 2003; contra Jamieson-Drake 1991) is a modern theoretical discussion. 9 This fortification system shows that the polity responsible for the construction of this border was able to mobilize substantial manpower from its center to be deployed along the frontier. If we take the political map of the late 8th century as a starting point, we would then argue that the building projects of the 9th century combined with two centuries of border maintenance show a robust Judahite kingdom throughout the 9th and 8th centuries. Exactly when these fortifications arose is a more difficult question. Current dating techniques for the 10th and 9th century are not advanced enough to bridge the gap from a particular stratum to a particular decade or particular king, and so we are 9. Finkelstein and Silberman (2006) have recently reiterated their idea that a “full-blown state” only appeared in the late 8th century with “advanced bureaucratic apparatus, a fully developed settlement hierarchy, monumental building activities and mass production of secondary agricultural products” (2006: 260). While we argue that this study shows virtually all of these (except the last) by the early 9th century (not accepting the chronological schema for the south proposed by Fantalkin and Finkelstein 2006), we still think that this is different from the question of the presence or absence of a regional state, a fundamentally political alliance that may or may not have found expression in the ways that they have suggested (Master 2001). With this caveat, simultaneous construction of fortifications in a chain matching Judah’s later southwestern border makes our assertion that an advanced, early 9th-century Judahite polity was responsible for this construction the most prudent.

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stymied in the attempt to understand the causal role of political factors in the initiation of these constructions. Recently, Herzog and Singer-Avitz (2004) have argued that the raid of Shishak/Sheshonq was a “demonstration of the resurrected Egyptian force” (Herzog and Singer-Avitz 2004: 233; with a slightly different chronology, Fantalkin and Finkelstein 2006: 32–33) attempting to control trade. Joffe sees a more limited Egyptian interest. He has suggested that the redeveloping urbanism of the southern Levant during the late 10th century and reintensification of long-distance trade would have made the area a “tantalizing target” for a resurgent Egypt seeking short-term gains through military action ( Joffe 2001: 446–47). Collectively, they see the earlier 10th century as a period of prosperity that was terminated, 10 causing, in part, a realignment of settlement patterns and defensive strategies. In addition, Herzog and Singer-Avitz (2004: 233) see Shishak’s raid as a triggering mechanism that created a “managerial ruling class that attempted to respond to defense needs by initiating the construction of fortified settlements.” Herzog and Singer-Avitz, therefore, see continuity between the stresses of the 10th century and the constructions of the 9th century. On the other hand, it is also possible to see these constructions as unrelated to the events of the Shishak campaign. One of the primary rationales for a late 10th-century date for the founding of Lachish IV or Tel Hasi VIII-D was the biblical reference to the building projects of Rehoboam in 2 Chronicles 11 (Yadin 1980; Dever 1986; Fargo 1983). This enigmatic reference actually describes a strengthening of the kingdom before the campaigns of Shishak, and it is hard to imagine that such frontier fortresses would have been ignored by Shishak’s campaign. In addition, the otherwise unattested attack by “Zerah the Kushite” reported by the Chronicler takes place north of the line that these fortresses were designed to protect (2 Chr 14:9–15). Finally, Ussishkin’s speculation that Jehoshaphat or Asa was responsible for this activity (2 Chr 17:10–13) is just as likely (Ussishkin 2004a: 79). If this were the case, then the events of the 10th century would hardly be the immediate cause for a fortification that took place decades later. Rather, and more likely, these fortresses were part of an early 9th-century stabilization of the border between Judah and Philistine Gaza and Ashkelon (2 Chr 17:10–11). In this role, the fortresses of the southern Shephelah were able successfully to protect the southwest border of the Kingdom of Judah from Philistine expansion for almost two centuries. The result was a quiet border where Gaza and Judah seem to have accepted the status quo until the arrival of the Assyr10.  Fantalkin and Finkelstein (2006) argue that the Egyptian campaigns started this renaissance. We find their stratigraphic reasoning in regard to the southern sites to be tortured. In two paragraphs (2006: 21), they move from the lack of catastrophic destruction levels at sites in the Tel Masos region to an assertion that they cannot have f lourished before 900 b.c.e. Their reasoning seems to be that, absent proof (of a very specific type) that they are wrong, they must be correct. And this, despite the admission that these sites surely began in the late Iron I. It seems much more likely that the sites of the Tel Masos region were attractive prey for the conquering Egyptians than that they were a farsighted development project stimulated by their arrival. The Egyptians need not have burned everything in their path to have been successful in the raid.

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ians in 734 b.c.e. If one follows this border to the north past Tel Burna to Tel Zayit (Libnah?) and beyond, one sees a border in f lux where various warring parties, Judah, northern Israel, and Philistine Ashkelon, Gath, and Ekron apparently sought to adjust the borders to their individual benefits on a regular basis.

Conclusions and Summary At the beginning of the 9th century, extensive human capital was mobilized to build administrative fortresses, forts, and the fortification systems in the southern Shephelah. In the fortresses and forts, we see sudden changes in the character of each site. These changes were not the organic growth of villages and towns. They involved centrally sponsored development. Using the direct historical connection of these sites to Assyrian records describing the conquest of Judahite fortresses, we argue that these fortresses were Judahite from beginning to end. The fort at Tel Hasi was erected at a key node in order to control valuable water resources along an important road that connected Gaza with Lachish. When Assyria entered the picture in the final third of the 8th century, the relationships between Judah, Gaza, and Ashkelon changed. While all were subject to the Assyrian overlords, this border area should have been safer than ever. However, in 701 b.c.e., when Sennacherib entered the area, the entire border between Philistia and Judah, from Tel Burna to Tel Halif was subject to the doubled wrath of the Assyrians. Ironically, Ashkelon survived; Gaza survived; Jerusalem survived; but the southwestern border of Judah was never to be the same again. At no other time, either before or after, did the political and military situation conspire to locate a border here where the border of Judah and Philistia existed from the 9th century to the end of the 8th century. This essay was completed in October 2007.

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Blakely, J. A., and Horton, F. L., Jr. 2001 On Site Identifications Old and New: The Example of Tell el-Hesi. Near Eastern Archaeology 64/1–2: 24–36. Blakely, J. A., and Y. Huster In press  The Geography behind Jean d’Ibelin’s Deed of 1256/7. Crusades 14. Borowski, O. 1987 Agriculture in Iron Age Israel. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Brandl, B. 1997 ʿErani, Tel. Pp. 256–58 in vol. 2 of The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, ed. E. M. Meyers. New York: Oxford University Press. Broshi, M., and Finkelstein, I. 1992 The Population of Palestine in the Iron II. Bulletin of the American Schoolss of Oriental Research 287: 47–60. Broshi, M., and Gophna, R. 1986 Middle Bronze Age II Palestine: Settlements and Population. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 261: 73–90. Burke, A. A. 2008 “Walled Up to Heaven”: The Evolution of Middle Bronze Age Fortification Strategies in the Levant. Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Carneiro, R. L. 1970 A Theory of the Origin of the State. Science 169 (21 August 1970): 733–36. Conder, C. R., and Kitchener, H. H. 1883 The Survey of Western Palestine: Memoirs of the Topography, Orthography, Hydrology, and Archaeology, vol. 3: Judaea. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. COS = Hallo, W. W., and Younger, K. L., eds. 2003 The Context of Scripture, vol. 3: Archival Documents from the Biblical World. 3 vols. Leiden: Brill. Cross, F. M., and Wright, G. E. 1956 The Boundary and Province Lists of the Kingdom of Judah. Journal of Biblical Literature 75: 202–26. Dauphin, C. 1998 La Palestine byzantine: Peuplement et populations. British Archaeological Reports International Series 726. Oxford: Archaeopress. Dever, W. G. 1996 The Tell: Microcosm of the Cultural Process. Pp. 37–45 in Retrieving the Past: Essays on Archaeological Research and Methodology in Honor of Gus W. Van Beek, ed. J. D. Seger. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Dothan, T. 1982 The Philistines and Their Material Culture. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Ephºal, I. 1984 The Ancient Arabs: Nomads on the Borders of the Fertile Crescent, 9th–5th Centuries b.c. Jerusalem: Magnes. Fabri, F. 1843 Evagatorium in Terræ Sanctæ, Arabiæ et Egypti Peregrinationem, vol. 2, ed. C. D. Hassler. Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litterariæ Stuttgardiensis. Fantalkin, A., and Finkelstein, I. 2006 The Sheshonq I Campaign and the 8th-Century b.c.e. Earthquake: More on the Archaeology and History of the South in the Iron I–IIA. Tel Aviv 33: 18–42. Fargo, V. M. 1983 Is the Solomonic City Gate at Megiddo Really Solomonic? Biblical Archaeology Review 9/5: 8–13. Fathy, H. 1973 Architecture for the Poor: An Experiment in Rural Egypt. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. [Originally published as Gourna: A Tale of Two Villages (Cairo: Ministry of Culture, 1969).]

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Figueras, P., ed. 2000 From Gaza to Pelusium: Materials for the Historical Geography of North Sinai and Southwestern Palestine (332 b.c.e.–640 c.e.). Beer-sheba 14. Beer-sheba: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Finkelstein, I. 1996a The Territorial-Political System of Canaan in the Late Bronze Age. Ugarit-Forschungen 28: 221–55. 1996b The Philistine Countryside. Israel Exploration Journal 46: 225–42. Finkelstein, I., and Gophna, R. 1993 Settlement, Demographic, and Economic Patterns in the Highlands of Palestine in the Chalcolithic and Early Bronze Periods and the Beginning of Urbanism. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 289: 1–22. Finkelstein, I., and Naʾaman, N. 2004 The Judahite Shephelah in the Late 8th and Early 7th Centuries b.c.e. Tel Aviv 31: 60–79. Finkelstein, I., and Silberman, N. A. 2006 Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the Pan-Israelite Ideology. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 30: 259–85. Gaudefroy-Demombynes, M. 1923 La Syrie à l’Époque des Mamelouks d’après les Auteurs Arabes. Bibliothéque archéologique et historique 3. Paris: Geuthner. Gil, M. 1992 A History of Palestine, 634–1099, trans. E. Broido. New York: Cambridge University Press. Gitin, S. 2003 Neo-Assyrian and Egyptian Hegemony over Ekron in the Seventh Century b.c.e.: A Response to Lawrence E. Stager. Eretz-Israel 27 (Miriam and Hayim Tadmor Volume): 55–61. Gonçalves, F. J. 1986 L’expédition de Sennachérib en Palestine dans la littérature hébraïque ancienne. Études biblique n.s. 7. Louvain-la-Neuve: Université catholique de Louvain. Grabbe, L. L., ed. 2003 “Like a Bird in a Cage”: The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 b.c.e. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 363. London: Sheffield Academic Press. Hartmann, R. 1916 Politische Geographie des Mamlukenreichs: Kapitel 5 und 6 des Staatshandbuchs Ibn Fadlallah al-ʿOmari’s. Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morganländischen Gesellschaft 70: 476–511. Herzog, Z. 1997b Archaeology of the City: Urban Planning in Ancient Israel and Its Social Implications. Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph 13. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press. Herzog, Z., and Singer-Avitz, L. 2004 Redefining the Centre: The Emergence of State in Judah. Tel Aviv 31: 209–44. Heyd, U. 1960 Ottoman Documents on Palestine: 1552–1615. Oxford: Clarendon. Hütteroth, W.-D., and Abdulfattah, K. 1977 Historical Geography of Palestine, Transjordan and Southern Syria in the Late 16th Century. Erlanger Geographische Arbeiten Sonderband 5. Erlangen: Fränkischen Geographischen Gesellschaft. Jamieson-Drake, D. W. 1991 Scribes and Schools in Monarchic Judah: A Socio-Archaeological Approach. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 109. Sheffield: Almond. Japhet, S. 1993 I and II Chronicles: A Commentary. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox. Joffe, A. H. 2001 The Rise of Secondary States in the Iron Age Levant. Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 45: 425–67.

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Lecker, M. 1989 The Estates of ʿAmr B. al-ʿAs in Palestine: Notes on a New Negev Arabic Inscription. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 52: 24–37. Mallowan, M. E. L. 1966 Nimrud and Its Remains. 3 vols. New York: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Master, D. M. 2001 State Formation Theory and the Kingdom of Ancient Israel. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 60: 117–31. 2003 Trade and Politics: Ashkelon’s Balancing Act in the Seventh Century b.c.e. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 330: 47–64. Monson, J. 1998 Regions on the Run. Rockford, IL: Biblical Backgrounds. Naʾaman, N. 1991 The Kingdom of Judah under Josiah. Tel Aviv 18: 3–71. Oded, B. 1979 Mass Deportations and Deportees in the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Oren, E. D. 1985 “Governor’s Residencies” in Canaan under the New Kingdom: A Case Study of Egyptian Administration. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 14: 37–56. [Also published in Eretz-Israel 18 (Avigad Volume): 183–99 (Hebrew).] Paoli, S., ed. 1733 Codice Diplomatico del sacro militare ordine, Gerosolimitano oggi di Malta, vol. 1. Lucca: Marescandoli. Petrie, W. M. F. 1891 Tell el-Hesy (Lachish). London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Rainey, A. F. 1983 The Biblical Shephelah of Judah. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 251: 1–22. Rainey, A. F., and Notley, S. 2006 The Sacred Bridge. Jerusalem: Carta. Ritter, Karl 1866 The Comparative Geography of Palestine and the Sinaitic Peninsula, vol. 3, trans. and ed. W. L. Gage. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. Robinson, E. 1841 Researches in Palestine, Mount Sinai and Arabia Petræa. London: John Murray. Schneidewind, W. M. 1998 The Geopolitical History of Philistine Gath. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 309: 69–77. Stager, L. E. 1995 The Impact of the Sea Peoples in Canaan (1185–1050 b.c.e.). Pp. 332–48 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. L. Levy. New York: Facts on File. Stager, L. E.; Master, D. M.; and Schloen, J. D. 2011 Ashkelon 3: The Seventh Century b.c. Harvard Semitic Museum Final Reports of the Leon Levy Expedition to Ashkelon 3. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Stern, E. 2001 Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, vol. 2: The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 b.c.e.). Anchor Yale Bible Reference Library. New York: Doubleday. Stone, B. J. 1995 The Philistine and Acculturation: Culture Change and Ethnic Continuity in the Iron Age. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 298: 7–32. Tsafrir, Y.; Di Segni, L.; and Green, J. 1994 Tabula Imperii Romani: Iudaea. Palaestina. Maps and Gazetteer. Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities.

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Tufnell, O. 1953 Lachish, vol. 3: The Iron Age. London: Oxford University Press. Ussishkin, D. 2004a A Synopsis of the Stratigraphical, Chronological and Historical Issues. Pp. 50–119 in The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994), vol. 1, ed. D. Ussishkin. Tel Aviv University Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph 22. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. 2004b Area R and the Assyrian Siege. Pp. 695–764 in The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994), vol. 2, ed. D. Ussishkin. Tel Aviv University Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph 22. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. 2004c Area PAL: The Judean Palace-Fort. Pp.  768–870 in The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994), vol. 2, ed. by D. Ussishkin. Tel Aviv University Sonia and Marco Nad­ ler Institute of Archaeology Monograph 22. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. 2004d The City-Gate Complex. Pp. 504–24 in The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973– 1994), vol. 2, ed. D. Ussishkin. Tel Aviv University Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph 22. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Vaughn, A. G. 1999 Theology, History, and Archaeology in the Chronicler’s Account of Hezekiah. Archaeology and Biblical Studies 4. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Wright, G. E. 1971 A Problem of Ancient Topography: Lachish and Eglon. Harvard Theological Review 64: 437–50. Yadin, Y. 1980 A Rejoinder. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 239: 19–23. Yeivin, S. 1961 First Preliminary Report on the Excavations at Tel “Gat” (Tell Sheykh ʾAhmed el-ʿAreyny): Seasons 1956–1958. Jerusalem: Mishlahat Gat. 1975 El-ʿAreini, Tell esh-Sheik Ahmed (Tel ʿErani). Pp. 89–97 in vol. 1 of Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. M. Avi-Yonah and E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1993 ʿErani, Tel. Pp. 417–22 in vol. 2 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Zahiri, Ghars al-Din Khalil ibn Shahin al1950 La Zubda kachf al-Mamālik de Khalīl az-Zāhirī, trans. J.-M. Venture de Paradis, ed. J. Gaulmier. Beirut: Institut Français de Damas. Zimhoni, O. 1985 The Iron Age Pottery of Tel ʿEton and Its Relation to the Lachish, Tell Beit Mirsim and Arad Assemblages. Tel Aviv 12: 63–90. 1990 Two Ceramic Assemblages from Lachish Levels III and II. Tel Aviv 17: 3–52. 1997 Lachish Levels V and IV: Comments on the Material Culture of Judah in the Iron Age II in the Light of the Lachish Pottery Repertoire. Pp. 57–178 in Studies in the Iron Age Pottery of Israel: Typological, Archaeological and Chronological Aspects, by O. Zimhoni. Tel Aviv Occasional Publication 2. Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology.

Interregional Interaction in the Late Iron Age: Phoenician and Other Foreign Goods from Tell en-Nasbeh Aaron Brody Pacific School of Religion

It is with great pleasure that I dedicate this article on Phoenician pottery from Tell en-Nasbeh to Sy Gitin. I met Sy over two decades ago as a young fellow at the Albright Institute in the early 1990s. Over the intervening years, I have benefited from his mentoring and enjoyed seeing the Institute f lourish under his directorship. As a friend and colleague, I am always impressed by his wealth of knowledge, his dedication to scholarship, his commitment to field archaeology and publication, and especially his advancement of our understanding of the Iron II period. This research, a visual and contextual analysis of Phoenician ceramic vessels from Tell en-Nasbeh, is part of an ongoing program of study of the material culture from the settlement identified as the biblical city of Mizpah in the region of Benjamin (Brody 2009a; 2009b; 2010; 2011; Brody and Friedman 2007; Friedman et al. 2008). The site was excavated under the directorship of W. F. Badè of Pacific School of Religion in five seasons from 1926 to 1935. Badè passed away the following year, and C. C. McCown and J. C. Wampler took up the responsibilities of publication. Both Tell en-Nasbeh final report volumes were published in 1947 (McCown 1947; Wampler 1947). More recently, Jeffrey Zorn has researched, reworked, and published numerous aspects of the stratigraphy and material culture of the site (Zorn 1993; 1997). 1 This article continues recent research on the holdings in the Badè Museum of Biblical Archaeology at Pacific School of Religion, a museum whose collection is centered around the artifacts and documentation from the Tell en-Nasbeh expedition. Three fragments of vessels were published in Wampler’s ceramic corpus that I visually identify as imports from Phoenicia. These ceramics were not recognized as foreign in the original publication and were presented in drawings or photographs that do not fully display their unique form or decoration. It is these unique typological 1.  These are only two examples of the numerous publications of Zorn from the late 1980s until the present focused on the archaeology of Tell en-Nasbeh.

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Fig. 1.  Phoenician pottery from Tell en-Nasbeh: (1) Phoenician bichrome, ridged-neck jug, C260 x18 II + C260 x19 II + S254 x1; (2) trefoil-mouth jug, R513 I x34, Serial Type 660; (3) pedestal bowl, R228 x1, Serial Type 1547. Drawings: Christin Engstrom.

features that made these three vessel fragments stand out from the mostly local ceramic finds from the site and aided in visually identifying them as Phoenician. The fragments are from a Phoenician bichrome jug, a trefoil-mouth jug, and a pedestal bowl or incense burner.

Phoenician Bichrome Jug Several fragments of the Phoenician bichrome, ridged-neck jug were originally presented in a photographic plate together with a varied sample of painted pottery from Nasbeh (Wampler 1947: pl. 87 bottom center). No further information was provided about this vessel, and only general observations were put forth regarding decoration, or “finish,” on the ceramics represented in this photograph (Wampler 1947: 53–55). A body sherd and two joined rim fragments from this vessel were presented

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in Wampler’s pottery volume; two additional rim sherds have been discovered in the Badè Museum that join to this painted jug (fig. 1:1, 2). Three of the rim sherds and the body sherd are all from the same context, Cistern 260. 2 The final fragment, the fourth rim sherd, came from Silo 254, a neighboring feature (McCown 1947: 181, fig. 41). The vessel has a f lared, externallythickened, triangular rim; a ridged neck; and likely a globular body (figs. 1:1, 2). The body fragment does not indicate the vessel’s body type, but the globular jug is well known from numerous parallels at sites in Phoenicia and the southern Levant. The jug is covered on its exterior with a vertically burnished buff colored slip. The rim of the vessel is decorated on its inside and outside with red paint. Below, on the upper part of the neck, are three thin, horizontal, parallel Fig. 2.  Phoenician bichrome, ridged-neck jug. lines painted in black. As is typical of this Photo: Aaron Brody. Phoenician vessel type, the bichrome decoration does not extend below the ridge on the neck of the jug. Three thin, horizontal, parallel, black lines painted between two broad, horizontal, red stripes are preserved on the body of the jug. The ware of the vessel is salmon pink on its exterior and interior, and the core is salmon pink to light grey with very few small white and grey inclusions. Wampler dated Cistern 260 to ca. 950–850 b.c.e., a temporal horizon that spanned the Iron IIA, following the absolute dates of the current modified conventional Iron Age chronology (Wampler 1947: 124). 3 He dated Silo 254 even earlier, to the 10th century b.c.e., although he placed a question mark by this attribution (Wampler 1947: 124). 2.  A fragment of another Phoenician vessel was only recently identified in the Badè Museum collection from the same cistern. C260 x9 II is the upper part of the trumpet base and the base of the bowl of a red-slipped and burnished pedestal bowl or incense burner. It was discovered too late to be detailed in this article. 3.  The state of Iron Age absolute chronology is currently in f lux. For comparative purposes, I will follow the revised traditional absolute dates for Iron Age chronology, especially the Iron II period (see Mazar 2011 and the extended bibliography cited there).

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Zorn revised the dating of both of these features to the Iron I through the Roman period, 1200 b.c.e.–70 c.e. (Zorn 1993: 1440, 1630). Given the excavation methods used at the site, an exact date for the context of the bichrome jug is not possible, as Zorn indicated. Comparative evidence, however, is instructive for this piece. The best sequence of bichrome-decorated, ridged-neck, globular jugs comes from excavations at Sarepta on the Lebanese coast. In his thorough study of the Late Bronze and Iron Age ceramics from Area II,Y at the site, Anderson reported that body sherds from globular jugs decorated with horizontal bichrome stripes were found in local Stratum E-C1 (Anderson 1988: 541, table 35). Following Anderson’s absolute dates for the strata in Area II,Y, this would correspond to ca. 1150–650 b.c.e. or the Iron IB–IIC (Anderson 1988: 423). Bichrome-decorated neck fragments were found in Sarepta’s Area II,Y in Stratum F-D1, or the Iron IA–IIB. Based solely on this evidence from Sarepta, one can attribute the combination of bichrome painted features on the jug from Nasbeh, the decoration on the neck and horizontal stripes on the body, to a temporal range from the Iron IB to IIB (table 1). I have found no identical parallels for the decoration scheme of the Nasbeh Phoenician bichrome jug. Horizontal bichrome stripes on the body of ridged-neck jugs are a popular motif for an extended period of time, as is indicated above, and over a broad geographical range. However, I have not been able to indentify an exact match for the Nasbeh jug with ridged-neck jugs from sites in modern Syria, Lebanon, Cyprus, or Israel (Taylor 1959: 68–69; Chapman 1972: 83–84, 155–57; Bikai 1978: 37–41; 1987: pls. 9–11; Anderson 1988: 337; Gilboa 1999: 12; Nunez 2004: 305–10). 4 A lack of direct parallels has similarly been noted for bichrome jugs from Horbat Rosh Zayit, the bodies of which are decorated with horizontal stripes (Gal and Alexandre 2000: 58). This led Gal and Alexandre to suggest that Phoenician bichrome painted jugs were “individually and uniquely produced” (Gal and Alexandre 2000: 58). Other Phoenician ridged-neck jugs have been uncovered at sites in the hill country; however, all of these examples have concentric circle designs painted on their bodies (Mazar 1985: 68–69).

Trefoil-Mouth Jug The upper half of a trefoil-mouth jug was presented by Wampler as Tell en-Nasbeh pottery Serial Type 660 (Wampler 1947: 149, pl. 37.660). The red-slipped and burnished decoration with a brown-painted, horizontal stripe along the shoulder of the jug is described in the publication but is not depicted in the drawing of the piece. No photograph of the vessel was provided. The piece has a trefoil mouth, conical neck, and the uppermost part of its shoulder preserved (figs. 1:2, 3). The ovoid handle attaches from the rim to the shoulder of 4. I would like to thank Nick Vella for informing me about the Tyre-Al Bass cemetery publication.

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Fig. 3.  Trefoil-mouth jug. Photo: Aaron Brody.

the vessel. The jug is covered with a poorly preserved, thick red slip and is burnished vertically along its neck. A brown horizontal stripe was painted on the shoulder of the vessel, just at the level where the lower part of the handle attaches to the vessel’s body. The description of the ware provided by Wampler is excellent (1947: 149). As he noted, the exterior and interior of the jug is a light-orange-brown color, with a lightbrown-grey core. There are a few, very small, white inclusions. The trefoil-mouth jug was uncovered in Room 513, located in Square AE18 in the southwestern part of the site (McCown 1947: insert map). Room 513 forms a unit with Rooms 575 and 581, part of a three-room building with a nontraditional layout. This is the southernmost building of a household compound that is made up of three other three-room houses and a two-room building, all connected by shared long walls (Brody 2009b; 2011). Statistical analysis of the ceramics from Room 513 suggests it was a storage unit; a cluster of ritual artifacts in the room demonstrate that it contained a household shrine. Wampler dates Room 513 to ca. 700–586 b.c.e., or the Iron IIC period (Wampler 1947: 123). In his reassessment of the stratigraphy at Tell en-Nasbeh, Zorn extended the date range of Room 513 throughout the Iron IIA–C period, ca. 980–586 b.c.e., with a possible continuation through the Babylonian period and into the Persian period (until 425 b.c.e.; Zorn 1993: 1566). The comparative stratigraphy of Phoenician trefoil-mouth jugs decorated with burnished red slip demonstrates that this type spanned the Iron IIB-C period (table 1).

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This is clear from the jug’s appearance in multiple Iron II phases at sites in Phoenicia, such as Sarepta, Tyre, and Akhziv (Anderson 1988: 494; Bikai 1978: 34, table 6B; Dayagi-Mendels 2002: 124). Parallels are also found at other Phoenician sites in the Levant (Al Mina, Khaldé, Khirbet Silm, and Tyre–Al Bass), as well as at Phoenician sites on Cyprus, Punic sites in the western Mediterranean, and northern Israelite sites (Hazor, Megiddo, and Tell el-Farah [N]) (Anderson 1988: 211; Bikai 1978: 36; Dayagi-Mendels 2002: 124: Nunez 2004: 316–20). A concentration of ritual items was uncovered in Room 513 together with the trefoil-mouth jug. The fragment of a ceramic “f lat-topped” offering stand (McCown 1947: 236; Wampler 1947: pl. 38.712), a portion of a horse and rider figurine (McCown 1947: 300, pl. 88.5), the leg of an animal figurine, two bases and one torso from female pillar figurines, a piece of an anthropomorphic decoration from a vessel, and two animal tusks were all found in Room 513, along with the Phoenician jug. 5 It is possible that this exotic jug, which is the only example of its type at Nasbeh and the only imported ceramic find in the entire five-building compound, was used to hold and pour liquids in domestic religious activities associated with the group of ritual objects in Room 513. Given the lack of separation between household shrines and working/living spaces in modern traditional India, one should not be surprised by parallel profane and sacred use of space in ancient Israelite villages (Ghosh 1995a: 21–25). It is especially compelling to note the typological similarity between modern Indian ceramic figurines with their pillar bases and pinched faces and comparable figurines from Iron II Judah, including Tell en-Nasbeh (Ghosh 1995b: 87, 90, figs. 64–66; McCown 1947: 245–46; Kletter 2001: 181–83). In India, these figurines typically represent lesser goddesses in the Hindu pantheon, especially figurines with attributes crucial to women in the household and to the well-being of the family. Women use the figurines in various aspects of domestic rituals. At times, children use these figurines as toys. These modern parallels suggest multiple functions for the female figurines in ancient Judah, which may have represented several different goddesses in the Israelite/Judean Iron Age pantheon or a female worshiper. Indeed, there are indications that Asherah, Astarte, and Anat were worshiped in ancient Israel and Judah (Day 2002: 42–67, 128–50). The pillar figurines do not have enough distinguishing features to differentiate a specific goddess or to discern if these objects represented a worshiper rather than a worshiped deity (Meyers 2005). The gesture of a female supporting her breasts suggests a sacred or ritual function. This form has a long history in the region stretching back in time to Neolithic plastered statuary and continuing after the late Iron Age. 5.  These last objects are not yet published and await further detailed study. They all come from Room 513, Square AE 18, level I and have the following registration numbers: leg of an animal figurine, x63; pillar figurine bases, x61 and x64; pillar figurine torso, x72; mask, x62; two tusks (noted in original notes as boars tusks but awaiting zooarchaeological identification), x75.

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Table 1.  Temporal Range of Phoenician Pottery Types from Comparative Stratigraphies Phoenician Bichrome jugs

a

Iron IB

Iron IIA

Iron IIB

x

x

x

Trefoil-mouth jugs

x

Pedestal bowls

Iron IIC

x x

a.  Decorated with horizontal stripes on the body and neck.

Pedestal Bowl Wampler presents a rim fragment of a plate or shallow bowl in several places in his pottery volume. However, from the publication it is not possible to discern that this piece is the remnant of a rare type of Phoenician pedestal bowl used as an incense burner or ceramic stand. The fragment is labeled Serial Type 1547 and is grouped together with other shallow plates in category §69 (Wampler 1947: 41, 176). Wampler adds that type 1547 is “not possible to place,” meaning he could find no parallels for the vessel (Wampler 1947: 41). While the red-slipped and burnished and black-painted decoration on the vessel is noted in the description, none of these decorative features is presented in the drawing provided (Wampler 1947: pl. 68.1547). A photograph of the top of the piece is included toward the end of the volume (Wampler 1947: pl. 87, third sherd up from the bottom right-hand corner); however, there are no labels to indicate that this is #1547, nor do any of the verbal descriptions of the piece refer the viewer to the photograph. The vessel has an incurved, simple rounded rim and a shallow bowl (fig. 1:3). Just down from the rim is an exaggerated, everted f lange. This feature is typically found on Phoenician vessels with deeper bowls and referred to by several different names, such as presentation stands, f lower pots, pedestal bowls, goblets, or incense stands (Lehmann 2002: 195). The vessel is decorated on its exterior with a thick red slip and patterned hand burnishing (figs. 4, 5). The lip and exterior base of the rim are decorated with a black-painted stripe, as is the end of the everted f lange. The top of this f lange is painted with black stripes that radiate from the stripe at the base of the rim out to the stripe at the end of the everted f lange. In one instance, there are three parallel stripes radiating out on top of the f lange. Just underneath the carination of the vessel’s shallow bowl are two thin, parallel, painted black stripes. The interior of the shallow bowl is undecorated. The ware of the vessel is orangey-red on its exterior and interior, and the core is light to medium-dark grey with very few small, white inclusions. The context in which this pedestal bowl fragment was discovered is Room 228 in Square AB25 (Wampler 1947: 176). Wampler dated this room to ca. 700–586 b.c.e.,

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Fig. 4.  Pedestal bowl, top view. Photo: Aaron Brody.

Fig. 5.  Pedestal bowl, bottom view. Photo: Aaron Brody.

or the Iron IIC period, while McCown phases this room and other “small, irregular rooms” around it “probably in postexilic times” (Wampler 1947: 120; McCown 1947: 210). Zorn included Room 228 in his Stratum 2, which he dated to the Babylonian– Persian period, or ca. 586–425 b.c.e. (Zorn 1993: 1500). Regardless of the periodization of the feature in which this pedestal bowl fragment was uncovered, it is apparent from the comparative evidence that this Phoenician vessel type, including the more prevalent version with a deeper bowl dates to the late 8th and 7th centuries b.c.e., or the Iron IIC (Lehmann 2002: 195). McCown’s and Zorn’s stratification of Room 228 to the Babylonian–Persian period suggests that this Phoenician fragment belonged to an earlier context and was redeposited in Room 228. This is not surprising given the fragmentary nature of the remains of the vessel, the depositional history of the site, and the standard methods of excavation used in the 1920–30s. It is possible that the Phoenician pedestal bowl originally belonged to the inner gate structure that lies directly beneath Room 228, and dates to the Iron IIB–C period (McCown 1947: 199, fig. 48; Zorn 1997: 53–66). This postulation must remain conjectural, however, since no other fragments of the Phoenician pedestal bowl were found in any of the chambers of this inner gate. The best parallels for this vessel are two red-slipped and burnished pedestal bowls with black-painted decoration from Stratum E2, Iron IIC at Tel Kabri (Lehmann 2002: 196, fig. 5.78.2–3). The feature of the everted f lange, however, is found on the more common Phoenician pedestal bowls with deeper, cup-like bowls. This more common type is found in late 8th- and 7th-century b.c.e. contexts at sites in northern Phoenicia (Al Mina); in central Phoenicia (Sarepta); in southern Phoenicia and the Jezreel Valley (Tell Kabri, Keisan, Yoqneʾam, Qiri, and Dor); and on the island of Cyprus (Amathus) (Lehmann 2002: 195). Another example of a pedestal bowl was uncovered in a Period

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G2 context at Tell Sukas in northern Phoenicia, which is dated by the excavators to ca. 588–552 b.c.e. (Riis 1970: 78, 127, figs. 26.c, 30.d). That these ceramic pedestal bowls were used as incense burners is confirmed by a representation of a very similar vessel on a Phoenician stele from Adlun. The carving depicts aromatics wafting from the stand in front of a deity seated on a cherubim throne (Moscati 1968: 57, pl. 1). There are also stylistic parallels with bronze incense burners from the Iron II and Persian periods (Canby 1974: ill. 26; Stern 2001: fig.  3.37). 6 These bronze parallels are not surprising because the ceramic type has features such as the everted f lange and the red-slipped and highly burnished surface that clearly mimick a metal prototype. The Nasbeh example is the first Phoenician pedestal bowl to be identified from a site in the central hill country and is evidence of interconnections with the Phoenician coast in the Iron IIC period. It remains to be seen if we can narrow the location through petrography within the range of coastal areas posed by the parallels detailed above. In the meantime, it seems a likely hypothesis that the Nasbeh vessel originated at a site in the Akko Plain or Carmel Coast. These regions are the closest to Nasbeh that show a clustering of this unusual vessel type and are the most likely sources of exchange of pedestal bowls with the Jezreel Valley sites of Yoqneʾam and Qiri.

Interregional Trade Indicators from Iron IIB–C Tell en-Nasbeh Though few in number, the ceramic indicators for interregional trade between Tell en-Nasbeh and Phoenicia, not surprisingly, cluster in the Iron IIB–C period, because this was the height of settlement at the site (table 1). The Iron IIB–C period has other archaeological indicators of connections between central hill country sites and Phoenicia, such as “Samaria Ware” (Phoenician fineware) bowls, carved ivories, and glass (Mazar 1992: 514; see Singer-Avitz 2010 for Phoenician imports to Iron IIB Beer-Sheva in southern Judah). The Iron Age IIB shows numerous connections between Phoenicia and Israel/ Judah in the glyptic repertoire and the borrowing of Phoenician iconographic motifs (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 179–81, 248–62). The widespread use of ashlar masonry implies stylistic and technological borrowing from the Phoenicians, if not use of Phoenician craftspeople, while the large rooms in monumental buildings testify to the importation of cedars of Lebanon, the great length of which was needed to bridge these architectural spans (Holladay 1995: 379–81). On rare occasions, the remains of the cedar wood itself is found preserved in Iron Age strata, a valued commodity traded from Phoenicia to Judah (Singer-Avitz 2010: 194–96). Texts in the Hebrew Bible detail economic ties and joint trade ventures between Phoenicia and Israel/Judah in the monarchic periods (1 Kgs 9:11, 9:26–28, 10:22), as 6.  I would like to thank Marian Feldman for providing me with a copy of Canby’s catalogue.

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well as the “importation” of Phoenician materials, artisans, and builders to the kingdoms (1 Kings 5; 7:13–46). Royal marriage ties are found along with the inf luence of Phoenician religious ideas and practitioners on Israelite/Judean religion (1 Kgs 16:29– 33, 18:19–40). Another Phoenician artifact type discovered at Nasbeh is the eye-bead. Ten were uncovered at the site, 9 made from glass and 1 made from faience (Harrison 1947: 267–68). It is possible that numerous other beads from Nasbeh, 2,681 of which were found in the five excavation seasons, were imported from Phoenicia. There are 865 glass and faience beads in the collection that are not typologically distinct like the eyebeads; some may have been manufactured on the coast and traded inland, given that an important component of glass is beach sand. Other indicators of interregional trade from Nasbeh include beads made from carnelian and opal, and the Jaazaniah seal inscribed on onyx (Harrison 1947: 267–68; Badè 1934: 75). 7 The most likely source for the carnelian and onyx is Egypt or Arabia (Lucas and Harris 1999: 387, 391). Opals can come from locations as near as the central Jordan Valley or the Negev, or further afield from mines in Oman or Greece (see http:// www.mindat.org [accessed May 27, 2004]). 8 It is feasible that basalt mortars and pestles came to Nasbeh from outside the region, because there are basalt sources in the Golan, Lower Galilee, on Mt. Carmel, and in the Irron Hills (McCown 1947: 249; Orni and Efrat 1973: 57). However there is also basalt in the East Samaria Fold, just east of Nasbeh (Orni and Efrat 1973: 57), and in several regions east of the Jordan. Thus, we must wait for petrographic investigations of the groundstone corpus from the site to determine sourcing more precisely. The copper and tin alloyed in the bronze finds from Nasbeh, which include bowls, fibulae, anklets, bracelets, earrings, buckles, and beads, are foreign to the region (Harrison 1947: 267–71; Brody and Friedman 2007; Friedman et al. 2008). The nearest copper sources used in the Iron II period were in the Wadi Feinan, in the Aravah Valley south of the Dead Sea, or on the island of Cyprus. Just as in the Bronze Age, the definitive location of the tin mines for the period are unknown; however, the closest sources are located at quite a distance, in Afghanistan or the Iberian Peninsula. Gold earrings were produced from metal, the closest sources of which are in Egypt or Arabia, while the silver used in several other earrings may have originated in mines in Anatolia, Greece, Sardinia, or Spain (Harrison 1947: 271; King and Stager 2001: 170–73; Thompson 2007). Seashells from both the Mediterranean and Red seas were also found at Nasbeh (McCown 1947: 248, pls. 48:22, 50:17, 90:22). 7.  The identifications of the bead stones were made by a geologist for the original publication; see Harrison 1947: 267. For the use of semiprecious stones to reconstruct aspects of interregional trade, see Zwickel (2002; 2003), who indicates interconnections for the various stones, with sources in India, Afghanistan, Iran, Spain, Egypt, Jordan, and Turkey. 8.  I would like to thank Christin Engstrom for her aid in identifying possible sources of opals in the greater region and for providing me with this Internet reference.

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Further interregional interactions are indicated by ceramic imports to Nasbeh. These include Black-on-Red juglets from Cyprus, and painted wares and black-burnished bowls from the Kingdom of Ammon (McCown 1947: 79–82, fig. 25:D8; Wampler 1947: 25–26, 155, 175–76, pls. 63:1443, 67:1516; Brody 2010). A storage jar type uncovered at Nasbeh is likely from the Phoenician coast, although typologically parallel jars from Hazor have been sourced to the region around this northern Israelite site (Wampler 1947: 76–77, 138, pl. 19:331; Gilboa 1995: 10; see also Singer-Avitz 2010: 188–90). Despite these archaeological indicators of interregional trade, it must be stressed that the overwhelming majority of remains from Iron IIB–C Nasbeh are local or regional. The three Phoenician vessels detailed above were found together with thousands of local vessels. 9 Ceramic studies by Master on Ashkelon and Singer-Avitz on Beer-Sheva have demonstrated that well over 95% of late Iron Age pottery was locally manufactured or imported from immediately neighboring regions (Master 2003: fig.  3; Singer-Avitz 1999: 12). The statistics Singer-Avitz summarizes for Tell Beit Mirsim and Lachish reveal that imported pottery makes up less than 0.5 % of the late Iron Age corpus at each site, with similar findings from Arad and Beth Shemesh (Singer-Avitz 1999: 12). This statistic of fewer than 0.5% ceramic imports appears to be applicable to Tell en-Nasbeh as well. This observation should come as no surprise, because Nasbeh was not a major port like Ashkelon or an entrepot on the caravan routes through the northern Negev like Beer-Sheva. As has been noted in recent syntheses, the economies of ancient Israel and Judah were primarily agropastoralist and focused on subsistence and householding, not wide-ranging commerce (King and Stager 2001: 189–94; Isserlin 2001: 181–91). It is noteworthy that scholars have been frustrated in their attempts to reconstruct the commerce of ancient Israel/Judah, because there are few commercial or economic details preserved in the Hebrew Bible or in Iron Age epigraphic materials (Soggin 1988: 201–3; Elat 1979a: 527; 1979b: 173; Hopkins 1996). One must turn to archaeological evidence, researched through contextual, stylistic, statistical, and comparative analyses; material science sourcing; and spatial patterning in order to glean information regarding regional and long-distance trade in the Iron II period of Israel and Judah. The archaeological data can then be compared and contrasted with biblical and epigraphic evidence. The difficulty of the task is compounded by the fact that the bulk of commercial items originating in the kingdoms of northern Israel and Judah were perishable 9.  Given the methods used to excavate, collect, and record data at Tell en-Nasbeh in the 1920–1930s, it is not possible to reconstruct ceramic statistics for the site. Wampler defines 1,842 ceramic serial types in his 1947 publication. Of these 1,842, he includes a few miscellaneous ceramic objects that are not vessels. Not all of these serial types date to the Iron IIB–C phase at the site, because there are also Early Bronze I, Iron I, Babylonian/Persian, and Roman/Byzantine phases and ceramics at Nasbeh. Nevertheless, the majority of finds date to the Iron IIB–C, and, given that there were numerous examples of most of Wampler’s serial types, it is possible to say that local ceramics contemporary with the three Phoenician vessels number in the multiple thousands.

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products that are typically archaeologically “invisible.” Thus the return exchanges of wine, olive oil, perfumed oil, and grain to Phoenicia are difficult to demonstrate archaeologically, although the jars in which certain items were traded may have survived.

Conclusion Through a stylistic, contextual, and typological analysis of three vessels, I have shown that there was very limited interaction between Tell en-Nasbeh and Phoenicia in the Iron IIB–C period. Additional links are demonstrated by Phoenician eye-beads and suggested by glass and faience beads. Exchanges with Egypt and/or Arabia and perhaps further afield are suggested by the sourcing of semiprecious stone beads and gold earrings. Basalt artifacts, bronze, and silver came from other regions and nations. Detailed sourcing of stones and metals from Nasbeh is a subject that requires further attention. Shells from both the Mediterranean and Red seas are present at Nasbeh, in addition to Cypriot and Ammonite ceramics. The type or mode of trade contact and the economic system in which these Iron Age exchanges took place require spatial analysis of data compiled from Iron II Nasbeh and throughout the greater region, which is beyond the scope of this study (but see Brody 2010; Master 2010: 501–16). Through a careful analysis of material cultural remains, we can begin to fill in the economic history of ancient Israel/Judah by reconstructing aspects of the interregional commerce and interconnections in the Iron IIB–C southern Levant.

Bibliography Anderson, W. P. 1988 Sarepta I: The Late Bronze and Iron Age Strata of Area II,Y. Beirut: Université Libanaise. Badè, W. F. 1934 A Manual of Excavation in the Near East. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bikai, P. M. 1978 The Pottery of Tyre. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. 1987 The Phoenician Pottery of Cyprus. Nicosia: Leventis Foundation. Brody, A. J. 2009a Mizpah, Mizpeh. Pp. 116–17 in vol. 4 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, ed. K. D. Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville: Abingdon. 2009b ‘Those Who Add House to House’: Household Archaeology and the Use of Domestic Space in an Iron II Residential Compound at Tell en-Nasbeh. Pp. 45–56 in Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager, ed. J. D. Schloen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2010 Transjordanian Commerce with Northern Judah in the Iron IIC–Early Persian Period: Ceramic Indicators, Interregional Interaction, and Modes of Exchange at Tell en-Nasbeh. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Schools of Oriental Research, Atlanta, GA. 2011 The Archaeology of the Extended Family: A Household Compound from Iron II Tell En-Nasbeh. Pp. 237–54 in Household Archaeology in Ancient Israel and Beyond, ed. A. Yasur-Landau, J. R. Ebeling, and L. B. Mazow. Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 50. Leiden: Brill.

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Brody, A. J., and Friedman, E. S. 2007 Bronze Bangles from Tell en-Nasbeh: Cultural and Economic Observations on an Artifact Type from the Time of the Prophets. Pp. 97–114 in To Break Every Yoke: Essays in Honor of Marvin L. Chaney, ed. R. B. Coote and N. K. Gottwald. The Social World of Biblical Antiquity 2nd series 3. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix. Canby, J. V. 1974 The Ancient Near East in the Walters Art Gallery. Baltimore, MD: The Trustees of the Walters Art Gallery. Chapman, S. V. 1972 A Catalogue of Iron Age Pottery from the Cemeteries of Khirbet Silm, Joya, Qrayé and Qasmieh of South Lebanon. Berytus 21: 55–194. Day, J. 2002 Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses of Canaan. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 265. London: Sheffield Academic Press. Dayagi-Mendels, M. 2002 The Akhziv Cemeteries, The Ben-Dor Excavations, 1941–1944. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 15. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Elat, M. 1979a The Monarchy and the Development of Trade in Ancient Israel. Pp. 527–46 in State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East, vol. 2, ed. E. Lipiński. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 6. Leuven: Department Oriëntalistiek. 1979b Trade and Commerce. Pp. 173–86 in The Age of the Monarchies: Culture and Society, ed. A. Ma­ lamat. The World History of the Jewish People 4/2. Jerusalem: Massada. Friedman, E. S.; Brody, A.; Young, M.; Almer, J. D.; Segre, C. U.; and Mini, S. M. 2008 Synchrotron Radiation-Based X-Ray Analysis of Bronze Artifacts from an Iron Age Site in the Judean Hills. Journal of Archaeological Science 35: 1951–60. Gal, Z., and Alexandre, Y. 2000 Horbat Rosh Zayit: An Iron Age Storage Fort and Village. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 8. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Ghosh, P. 1995a Household Rituals and Women’s Domains. Pp. 21–25 in Cooking for the Gods: The Art of Home Ritual in Bengal, ed. M. W. Meister. Newark, NJ: The Newark Museum. 1995b Catalogue. Pp. 39–91 in Cooking for the Gods: The Art of Home Ritual in Bengal, ed. M. W. Meister. Newark, NJ: The Newark Museum. Gilboa, A. 1995 The Typology and Chronology of the Iron Age Pottery and the Chronology of the Iron Age Assemblages. Pp. 1–49 in Excavations at Dor: Final Report, vol. IB: Areas A and C: The Finds, ed. E. Stern. Qedem Report 2. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, the Hebrew University. 1999 The Dynamics of Phoenician Bichrome Pottery: A View from Tel Dor. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 316: 1–22. Harrison, M. 1947 Toilet Articles, Jewelry, and Other Artistic Products. Pp. 265–72 in Tell en-Nasbeh I: Archaeological and Historical Results, ed. C. C. McCown. Berkeley, CA: The Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion. Holladay, J. S. 1995 The Kingdoms of Israel and Judah: Political and Economic Centralization in the Iron IIA–B (ca. 1000–750 bce). Pp. 368–98 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. New York: Facts on File. Hopkins, D. 1996 Bare Bones: Putting Flesh on the Economics of Ancient Israel. Pp. 121–39 in The Origins of the Ancient Israelite States, ed. V. Fritz and P. R. Davies. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 228. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.

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Isserlin, B. S. J. 2001 The Israelites. Minneapolis: Fortress. Keel, O., and Uehlinger, C. 1998 Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel, trans. T. H. Trapp. Minneapolis: Fortress. King, P. J., and Stager, L. E. 2001 Life in Biblical Israel. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Kletter, R. 2001 Between Archaeology and Theology: The Pillar Figurines from Judah and the Asherah. Pp. 179– 216 in Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan, ed. A. Mazar. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 331. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Lehmann, G. 2002 Pottery V: Iron Age. Pp. 178–222 in Tel Kabri: The 1986–1993 Excavation Seasons, ed. A. Kempinski, N. Scheftelowitz, and R. Oren. Tel Aviv University Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph 20. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Lucas, A., and Harris, J. R. 1999 Ancient Egyptian Materials and Industries. Mineola, NY: Dover. Master, D. M. 2003 Trade and Politics: Ashkelon’s Balancing Act in the Seventh Century b.c.e. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 330: 47–64. 2010 Trade in I and II Kings. Pp.  501–16 in The Books of Kings, ed. A. Lemaire and B. Halpern. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 129. Leiden: Brill. Mazar, A. 1985 Excavations at Tell Qasile, Part Two. Qedem 20. Jerusalem: The Institute of Archaeology, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. 1992 Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, 10,000–586 b.c.e. New York: Doubleday. 2011 The Iron Age Chronology Debate: Is the Gap Narrowing? Another Viewpoint. Near Eastern Archaeology 74: 105–11. McCown, C. C. 1947 Tell en-Nasbeh I, Archaeological and Historical Results. Berkeley, CA: The Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion. Meyers, C. L. 2005 Households and Holiness: The Religious Culture of Israelite Women. Minneapolis: Fortress. Moscati, S. 1968 The World of the Phoenicians. New York: Praeger. Nunez, F. J. 2004 Preliminary Report on the Ceramics. Pp. 281–373 in The Phoenician Cemetery of Tyre–Al Bass: Excavations 1997–1999, ed. M. E. Aubet. Bulletin d’Archéologie et d’Architecture Libanaises Hors-Série 1. Beirut: Direction Générale des Antiquités. Orni, E., and Efrat, E. 1973 Geography of Israel. Jerusalem: Jewish Publication Society. Riis, P. J. 1970 Sukas I: The North-East Sanctuary and the First Settling of Greeks in Syria and Palestine. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. Singer-Avitz, L. 1999 Beersheba: A Gateway Community in Southern Arabian Long-Distance Trade in the Eighth Century b.c.e. Tel Aviv 26: 3–74. 2010 A Group of Phoenician Vessels from Tel Beersheba. Tel Aviv 37: 188–99. Soggin, J. A. 1988 Ancient Israel: An Attempt at a Social and Economic Analysis of the Available Data. Pp. 201–8 in Text and Context: Old Testament and Semitic Studies for F. C. Fensham, ed. W. Claassen. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 48. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.

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Stern, E. 2001 Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, vol. 2: The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 b.c.e.). New York: Doubleday. Taylor, J. du P. 1959 The Cypriot and Syrian Pottery from Al Mina, Syria. Iraq 21: 62–92. Thompson, C. M. 2007 Silver in the Age of Iron and the Orientalizing Economies of Archaic Greece. Ph.D. dissertation. University of California, Los Angeles. Wampler, J. C. 1947 Tell en-Nasbeh, vol. 2: The Pottery. Berkeley, CA: The Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion. Zorn, J. R. 1993 Tell en Nasbeh: A Re-evaluation of the Architecture and Stratigraphy of the Early Bronze Age, Iron Age and Later Periods. Ph.D. dissertation. University of California, Berkeley. 1997 An Inner and Outer Gate Complex at Tell en-Nasbeh. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 307: 53–66. Zwickel, W. 2002 Edelsteine in der Bibel. Mainz: von Zabern. 2003 The Trade with Precious Stones in the Southern Levant in the First Millennium b.c. Pp. 43–44 in Annual Meeting Abstracts. Atlanta: American Schools of Oriental Research.

Three Middle Bronze II Burials from Tel Zahara Susan L. Cohen

Wiesław Więckowski

Montana State University

University of Warsaw

During the first season of work in summer 2006 at the small site of Tel Zahara (Israel grid ref. 1929, 2131), approximately 5 km west of Beth Shean (fig. 1), excavations uncovered three primary burials dating to MB II (Cohen 2006; Cohen and Wię­c­ kowski 2007). 1 The three burials, one adult and two children, lay on a north–south line directly on the western baulk line of Square NE.A.12, located on the lower part of the eastern slope of the site (fig. 2). No pit or shaft lines were found in association with the burials, and it is probably that later activity at the site—in particular the foundations for the Roman architecture—destroyed any superstructure that might have existed above the graves. Although this damage made it difficult to ascertain the full nature of the burials, as portions of the grave were either too damaged to analyze or inaccessible for excavation, it is still possible to assess and evaluate the meaning provided by these interments. 2

The Burials Burial 1 Of the three interments, 3 Burial 1 was the most clearly articulated, although its state of preservation was extremely poor. The individual was lying on the right side in a f lexed position, with the head to the north, facing west. The Skeleton The skeleton was extremely fragmentary; only parts of the long bones were found in a better state of preservation. The ossification and long bone size as well as the tooth 1.  Please note that the terminology and nomenclature used in this article are as follows: Intermediate Bronze Age, Middle Bronze I, and Middle Bronze II. 2.  Attempts to find additional burials in ensuing excavation seasons and to uncover the cemetery that is potentially located at the base of the eastern slope of the site were unsuccessful. The Roman building activities cut foundation trenches through the Middle Bronze Age occupation and down to virgin soil throughout this entire area (Cohen 2007; 2008). Any other burials and the cemetery—if indeed it existed—would have been destroyed during this process. 3.  Because of the poor preservation of the burials, all measurements and analyses of the skeletal material took place in the field, since the bones crumbled as they were removed.

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Fig. 1.  Map showing the location of Tel Zahara. Map prepared by S. Cohen.

wear indicate an adult age for the individual. The poor state of preservation precluded determining the sex of the individual. Bone Inventory The extant portions of the skeleton consisted of small fragments of the skull, traces of the ribs, shafts of the arm and leg long bones, and a few fragments of the metacarpals. Two incisors, one fragment of a canine, two premolars, and two molars were found in the area of the skull (Cohen and Więckowski 2007). The Grave Goods A small juglet was found just to the north of the head, and a small high-necked bowl with rounded carination and a ring base was located in the area in front of the arms and upper body. A large trefoil-mouth jug with a double-stranded handle was

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Fig. 2.  Map of Tel Zahara, with excavation areas marked. Map prepared by J. Rosenberg.

found just in front of the individual’s legs. Two additional juglets found between the legs of this individual and the head of Burial 2 may also be associated with the deceased (fig. 3). Burial 2 The Burial Burial 2 was extremely poorly preserved and found in a very fragmentary state; almost nothing remained of the skeleton other than the cranium and several teeth as well as a few scattered and poorly preserved pieces of the lower skeleton located by the feet of Burial 1. The placement of these fragments suggests that the individual was oriented with its head to the south. The morphology of the teeth indicates that the individual was a child less than 6 years old (infans I; Cohen and Więckowski 2007). Bone Inventory The extant portions of the skeleton consisted of large fragments of the skull vault and small fragments of the lower jaw. In addition, fragments of the deciduous teeth and buds of some permanent teeth (molar and premolar) were found. The Grave Goods Two whole vessels, a small piriform juglet, and a larger rounded piriform juglet with a double-stranded shoulder handle were found lying between the legs of Burial 1

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Fig. 3.  Photo of Burial 1 (long bones on the right) and Burial 2 (cranium on the left), with associated grave goods, including the piriform juglets located between the two interments. Photo by J. Baker.

Table 1.  Descriptions and Parallels for the Ceramics Found with the Burials No. Reg. # Burial #

Description

Parallels

1

355

Burial 1 Ring base, high rounded carina- Aphek Str. A XII (Beck 2000: pls. 10.21:7, 10.22:6);

2

356

Burial 1 Ring base, oval body, everted

3

410

Burial 1 Piriform juglet with high ring

Megiddo T24 (Guy 1938: pl. 23:26); Jericho T A34 (Kenyon 1960: fig. 141:6–7).

4

354

Burial 1 Piriform juglet with ring

Efrata Cave 5 (Gonen 2001: fig. 31:6); Jericho T B35 (Kenyon 1960: fig 150:4–5); Jericho T B48 (Kenyon 1965: fig. 97:6, 8); Jericho T A38 (Kenyon 1960: fig. 136:7–12); Jericho T G46 (Kenyon 1960: fig. 131:1–2); Jericho T A34 (Kenyon 1960: fig. 141:8–11)

5

429

Burial 1 Jug with wide disc base, oval

tion, simple everted rim

Yoqneʿam Str. XXI-XIXa (Ben-Tor et al. 2005: photo IV.4: a, b); Jericho T 51 (Kenyon 1965: fig. 165:15)

simple rim, and single handle with a rectangular section

base, double-stranded shoulder handle; rim unknown base, single loop handle; rim unknown

body, figure-8 handle and trefoil rim.

and the head of Burial 2, making their association difficult to determine (fig. 3). As it is more frequent for small juglets to be placed in the vicinity of the head of an individual, it is possible that these items should be associated with Burial 2. This determination is far from certain, however, because it is equally likely that these juglets were originally placed with Burial 1, while Burial 2 was interred in such a way that the head was deposited near or over the ceramics.

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Fig. 4.  The ceramics found with Burials 1 and 2. Drawings by F. Amirah.

Burial 3 The Burial This individual was lying at a slightly higher level and farther to the south of Burials 1 and 2, and, like the first two, the skeleton was extremely poorly preserved. Only

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the cranium, which was smashed with a badly destroyed splanchnocranium (face), some teeth, and a few fragments of rib, vertebrae, and upper arm bones were recovered. The skeletal remains indicate that the body was lying on a north–south axis, possibly in a f lexed position, with its head to the south. Bone Inventory Almost all the skull bones, however fragmented, were present. The other extant portions of the skeleton consisted of a piece of the upper arm, traces of the ribs, and some vertebrae. In addition, several teeth, including permanent incisors, canines, premolars, and molars in which the roots were not fully developed, one deciduous canine, and two deciduous molars were found. The eruption stage as well as the development of the permanent teeth indicate the age of the individual to be approximately 12 (infans II; Cohen and Więckowski 2007). The Grave Goods No ceramics were found in association with this individual. A few fragments of animal bones were excavated from among the human bones, but it is not certain whether these represent remains of a deliberate mortuary offering or are simply bones in the large backfill that covered the burial. Given the lack of large offering bowls typical of other food offerings dating to this era, the latter interpretation is more probable.

The Ceramics Five ceramics were found in association with Burials 1 and 2 (figs. 4, 5). The corpus consists of three juglets, one carinated bowl, and one jug; no open bowls, kraters, or jars of any kind were found. All of the forms are, with some exceptions discussed further below, typologically consistent with the MB II repertoire in Canaan. Bowl The one bowl found with the burials has a low ring base, high rounded carination, a high neck, and a slightly everted simple rim (figs. 4:1, 6; table 1:1). No surface treatment is evident on the piece. Similar bowls are attested in Str. A XII (“Post-Palace”) at Aphek (Beck 2000: pls. 10.21:7, 10.22:6), in Str. XXI–XIXa (MB IIC), at Yoqneʿam (Ben-Tor et al. 2005: photo 4.4: a, b), 4 and in one example from Tomb B51 at Jericho (Kenyon 1965: fig. 165:15). The chronological range of this form ranges from the late MB I or MB I–MB II transition and continues through the end of the Middle Bronze Age. The change from a low disc base to a ring base may be an indicator of 4.  This form is most common in the later Middle Bronze Age phases at Yoqneʿam, although single occurrences are also attested in Str. XXV, dated to MB IIA [MB I], and Str. XXIIIa (MB IIB) [MB II] (Ben-Tor et al. 2005). It should be noted that all the examples from Yoqneʿam are slipped, while none of the bowls of this type from Aphek had any surface treatment, nor does the piece from Tel Zahara.

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Fig. 5.  Photo of the ceramics found with Burials 1 and 2. Photo by Z. Radovan.

chronological development for this form and suggests an MB II date overall for the Tel Zahara bowl. Oval Juglet This one example has a small, oval body, a very low ring base, and an everted simple rim (figs. 4:2; 7; table 1:2). The simple loop handle is rectangular in section. There is no surface treatment on the juglet. The wide, raised disc base is unusual within the repertoire of Middle Bronze Age juglets, as is the wide mouth with the plain f lared rim. Few parallels exist for this form; a similar juglet from Grave 14 in the Gesher cemetery (Garfinkel and Cohen 2007: fig. 5.14:3) may be an earlier attestation of this type. Piriform Juglets One juglet (figs. 4:4; 8; table 1:4) has a low ring base and a loop handle from midneck to the upper shoulder. The juglet is broken in the neck above the handle. The juglet is covered by a gray slip and burnish.

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Fig. 6.  Carinated bowl. Photo by Z. Radovan.

Fig. 7.  Oval juglet. Photo by Z. Radovan.

There are numerous parallels for this piece at Jericho (Kenyon 1960: figs. 131:1–2, 136:7–12, 141:8–11, 150: 4–5; Kenyon 1965: fig. 97:6, 8); another parallel comes from Cave 5 at Efrata (Gonen 2001: fig. 31:6). In the ceramic sequence identified at Jericho, this piece is commonly found in both Group II and Group III tombs, suggesting that it is a standard form that spans a large chronological period in the Middle Bronze Age. The other juglet (figs. 4:3; 9; table 1:3), which is slightly larger, has a more rounded body, a small, high ring base—almost a trumpet base—and a double-stranded shoulder handle. The juglet is broken midway up the neck, above the handle. This piece has parallels with a juglet from Megiddo Tomb 24 (Guy 1938: pl. 23:26) and with two juglets from Tomb A34 at Jericho (Kenyon 1960: fig. 141:6–7). Jug The jug (figs. 4:5; 10; table 1:5) has a strongly pronounced trefoil mouth, a disc base, and a figure-eight handle that extends from just below the rim to the upper shoulder. The piece is extremely friable and has no surface treatment or decoration. While the shape of the jug, the trefoil mouth, and figure-eight handle are common on other pieces in MB II, the wide disc base appears to be otherwise unattested on this form in this period, and no close parallels for this jug exist.

Three Middle Bronze II Burials from Tel Zahara

Fig. 8.  Piriform juglet with gray burnish. Photo by Z. Radovan.

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Fig. 9.  Piriform juglet with double-stranded shoulder handle. Photo by Z. Radovan.

Discussion Burials represent the means and methods by which a society chooses to dispose of the deceased members of its community. Burial practices provide a window into a culture’s activities, offering a glimpse into societal values and cultural change. As such, in addition to the ideology that might exist about what happens to the dead, burials also ref lect developments in the customs of the living. In so doing, variations in mortuary practices illustrate changes in a culture’s development, such as social value, economic change, or political reorganization. All aspects of a burial have a purpose, and the entire burial as a unit expresses the beliefs and ideas of the community. In addition to the grave goods themselves, the factors most commonly evaluated in the interpretation of mortuary remains include position and direction of the body, gender, age, and method of interment (e.g., cist burial or cave burial). Consequently, the differences or changes in these practices and methods may speak to changes in the living culture and/or society itself. The three burials excavated at Tel Zahara were laid out in simple graves dug into virgin soil at the base of the eastern slope of the site. As noted above, any superstructures that may have existed and the tops of the pits or chambers were destroyed by later Roman building activity at the site. As a result of this, no further information is available about the nature of the grave architecture. Given the location of the burials

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on the slope of the site, however, and the remnants of the pits into which they were placed, it is probable that the burials originally were simply shallow cist graves. Any stones or other material used to mark the opening and/or the entrance of the graves (e.g., Garfinkel and Cohen 2007) would have been destroyed by the later occupation. The ceramics found with the burials are generally consistent with the standard MB II repertoire in Canaan. There are, however, some discrepancies in form, most notably represented by the wide disc base on the jug (fig. 4:5) and the wide mouth and large disc base of the oval juglet (fig. 4:2). The f lat base, while attested in the MB I ceramic corpus, tends to disappear and be replaced with ring bases during MB II. Bases in general become smaller and higher throughout the period, as illustrated by the base on the larger piriform juglet in the Zahara corFig. 10.  Jug with trefoil mouth and f lat base. pus (fig. 4:3). The unusual nature of these Photo by Z. Radovan. two forms, however, is consistent with types found in the earlier MB I and may indicate a transitional phase between the two periods. No open bowls or food offerings were uncovered in connection with the burials, nor were any large store-jars found. The former would have been placed near the head or chest of the individual, while store-jars are generally located near the feet. While unusual, this discrepancy in the distribution of grave goods may be in keeping with a trend noted for the Middle Bronze Age in which the presence of subsistence-based ceramics in graves, usually associated with food, declined in favor of smaller objects more traditionally associated with status or luxury (Hallote 1995: 114). The position of the bodies, though poorly preserved, indicated that they were buried in a f lexed position. In two cases, the head of the individual was to the south, while one was oriented to the north. The individuals in Burials 1 and 3 faced toward the west while Burial 2 possibly faced east. 5 This variation in orientation and direction 5.  It is difficult to make this determination for Burial 2, as only a few teeth and mandible fragments remained.

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Fig. 11.  Mud-brick wall and associated courtyard layers dating to MB II at Tel Zahara. Photo by S. Cohen.

is also consistent with other cemeteries dating to the Middle Bronze Age (Hallote 1995). Rather than having any one fixed direction of interment, however, the individuals in the graves were more probably placed facing “out”—toward the opening of the burial—which then dictated the direction and orientation of the body. The three burials clearly must be associated with an MB II settlement at Tel Zahara itself. Although this occupation has not been excavated, one test trench in Square SE.A.7 (see fig. 2) reached Middle Bronze Age levels in a small exposure (less than 5 × 5 meters). The excavations in this probe uncovered one mud-brick wall (visible in the northern balk of the probe) approximately two courses high and several layers of courtyard debris (fig. 11). Numerous burned patches, large quantities of ceramic and faunal remains, and several basalt grindstones were excavated from the courtyard. The ceramics consisted predominately of domestic forms, including large store-jars and both handmade and wheel-made cooking pots. While the majority of the sherds were again consistent with an MB II date, the presence of handmade cooking pots with rope decoration also suggests that the settlement may date to a transitional phase between MB I and II.

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Evidence suggests that burial practices changed at a less rapid pace in the countryside than did those at urban locales (Cohen 2009) and that mortuary practices overall retained a significant degree of continuity in tradition and value from the Intermediate Bronze Age through Middle Bronze Age I and perhaps continuing into Middle Bronze Age II as well. The three burials from Tel Zahara exhibit traits that are typical of MB II as well as components that link them to MB I. These burials, therefore, may ref lect a separate but significant strand of mortuary traditions in MB II. Further discovery and excavation of MB II burials will open up new venues of mortuary data, and subsequent interpretation of their meaning will increase our understanding of the peoples who lived and died in Middle Bronze Age Canaan.

Bibliography Beck, P. 2000 Area A: Middle Bronze Age IIA Pottery. Pp.  173–238 in Aphek-Antipatris, vol. 1: Excavation of Areas A and B: The 1972–1976 Seasons, ed. M. Kochavi, P. Beck, and E. Yadin. Tel Aviv Institute of Archaeology Monograph Series 19. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Ben-Tor, A.; Ben-Ami, D.; and Livneh, A. 2005 Yoqneʿam, vol. 3: The Middle and Late Bronze Ages. Qedem Report 7. Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Institute of Archaeology. Cohen, S. 2006 Tel Zahara, 2006. The Israel Exploration Journal 56: 220–27. 2007 Tel Zahara, 2007. The Israel Exploration Journal 57: 229–36. 2008 Tel Zahara, 2008. The Israel Exploration Journal 58: 237–43. 2009 Continuities and Discontinuities: A Re-examination of the Intermediate Bronze Age–Middle Bronze Age Transition in Canaan. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 354: 1–13. Cohen, S., and Więckowski, W. 2007 Tel Zahara (Israel): Seasons 2006–2007. Bioarchaeology of the Near East 1: 68–72. Garfinkel, Y., and Cohen, S., eds. 2007 The Middle Bronze Age Cemetery at Gesher: Final Report. Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research 62. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. Gonen, R., ed. 2001 Excavations at Efrata: A Burial Ground from the Intermediate and Middle Bronze Ages. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 12. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Guy, P. L. O. 1938 Megiddo Tombs. Oriental Institute Publication 33. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hallote, R. 1995 Mortuary Archaeology and the Middle Bronze Age Southern Levant. Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 8: 93–122. Kenyon, K. 1960 Excavations at Jericho, vol. 1: The Tombs Excavated in 1952–54. London: British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem. 1965 Excavations at Jericho, vol. 2: The Tombs Excavated in 1955–58. London: British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem.

A Late Iron Age Cult Stand from Gezer Garth Gilmour University of Stellenbosch

Introduction During the 1973 season of Phase II of the Hebrew Union College–Harvard Semitic Museum excavations at Tel Gezer, directed by Joe D. Seger, a red-slipped cylindrical fenestrated stand was uncovered in Field VII (figs. 1–3). The stand, object 2119, was found in several pieces in mixed fill layer 36038A in Field VII. The object is incomplete, and part of the profile is missing above the shoulder ridge, below the rim. 1 The stand, which had a diameter at the base of 18.7 cm and was at least 39 cm high, was wheel-made as a cylinder. The ends are open and at the top is a rounded rim. A row of four rectangular windows was cut into the stand when the clay was leather hard. The windows are approximately 6 cm high and 5 cm wide, and some of the corners are roughly rounded. The base is 5.7 cm high, after which the walls gradually taper inwards until 6.4 cm above the windows a pronounced ridge separates the top of the stand from the body below. This ridge is 14.8 cm in diameter, and the top of the stand f lares from a diameter of 12.6 cm just above the ridge to 15.2 cm just below the rim. The Gezer stand falls generally into the corpus of cylindrical stands that appear in the Levant from the Middle Bronze Age to the 10th century b.c.e. (Mazar 1980: 93–96), though its shape is unusual, even when taking into account the variety of this corpus. The high base and tapered profile are echoed in several stands (e.g., Tell Qasile stratum X [Mazar 1980: 87–89, fig. 23] and Beth Shean stratum V [Rowe 1940: Author’s note: It is a pleasure to dedicate this paper to Sy Gitin, a scholar who has shown the way to me and many others by example, in kindness, and with much good humor. I am grateful to the Department of Old Testament, University of Stellenbosch, for their support in the preparation of this paper. 1. Stand 2119 is to be published in Gezer VI: The Objects from Phases I and II (1964–1974) (Gilmour forthcoming). This is a publication project based on the assemblage of several thousand objects excavated during the 11 years of the Tell Gezer field project (1964–74), directed by W. G. Dever and Associate Director H. Darrell Lance (1964–71), and Joe D. Seger (1972–74).

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Fig. 1.  Cult Stand 2119 from Gezer (drawing: D. Karges).

pls. 14:3, 16:2]), but the wide, slightly f lared rim above a shoulder ridge is rare, perhaps unparalleled. The stand was found in locus 36038A in Field VII at Gezer. This locus was part of a massive backfill from Stratum III, dated to the late third and second centuries b.c.e., that extended across Field VII and raised the level of the tell by up to two meters (Gitin 1990: 31). The contents of the locus were mixed, with small numbers of Chalcolithic, Early, Middle and Late Bronze Age sherds, and some Hellenistic sherds. However, the bulk of the pottery from Fill 36038A was dated to the late Iron Age II, which was to be expected as the backfill was created by digging large pits into the late Iron II levels.

Development of Cylindrical Cult Stands Cylindrical fenestrated stands are unusual in Iron IIC, though other examples from Tel Miqne–Ekron, Jerusalem, and Tel Halif (Lahav) in the northern Negev suggest that a new category of stands confined to southern sites in the late Iron Age is indicated here. Tall cylindrical stands have a long history in the ancient Near East, dating from at least the beginning of the 3rd millennium b.c.e. Their development in this early period

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Fig. 2.  Cult Stand 2119 from Gezer (photograph: G. Gilmour).

is recorded especially in glyptic art, and by the 2nd millennium their presence in excavated contexts becomes more marked. Their numbers increase in the Late Bronze Age in Canaan, to the extent that they can become a significant element in Canaanite material culture. Their numbers reach a peak in the early Iron Age, especially in the Jezreel and Beth Shean valleys, before they decline in popularity during the period of the Divided Monarchy. Cylindrical stands serving a variety of purposes, including cultic, have a wide distribution in time and space in the ancient Near East. They feature early on in Mesopotamia, where representations on cylinder seals from the mid- to late-3rd millennium b.c.e. onward show simple pinched-waist cylindrical stands that served several purposes, usually in cultic contexts, including libations, as pots containing trees and fruit and possibly as burners with f lames (e.g., Pritchard 1969: nos. 525 and 698; Frankfort 1939: pl. 25c; Buchanan 1966: no. 342). In Egypt, a very thin, high stand appears in artistic renditions from Old Kingdom times as a support for food offerings, incense, libation, f loral, and even burned offerings (Smith 1958: pls. 13, 39A; Aldred 1978: 3.1; see Frankfort 1924: 128). They are known in excavated contexts at a number of sites, including Amarna (Peet and Woolley 1923: 37; pls. 46.II/1034B–C, II/251) and Deir el-Medineh (Nagel 1938: figs. 19.62, 72.24–25).

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In the Aegean, particularly in Crete, tall stone lamps dating from the early 16th century to the end of the palatial period in the 14th century are noted by Meyers (2003: 77). In addition, cult stands with multiple loop handles and occasionally molded snakes become common in cultic and domestic contexts in Late Minoan III in Crete (Gesell 1976). In the Levant, the concept of the cult stand dates back to the Chalcolithic, where fenestrated pedestalled bowls appear in pottery and stone. The type develops throughout the Bronze Age, but its function (and particularly its association with cult) is not always clear (Amiran and Porat 1984; Amiran 1989; 1992; Braun 1990). During the 2nd millennium, these stands undergo a change, with the bowls being separated from the stands and the stands themselves acquiring a variety of decorative embellishments and occasionally handles. By the early Iron Age, the variations are manifold, with windows being oval, rectangular, or triangular; plastic molding ranging from simple ring molding as in earlier periods in Egypt and Mesopotamia to leaves or lugs, Fig. 3.  Cult Stand 2119 from animals, and human figures; and painted decoration Gezer (photograph: G. Gilmour). ranging from simple red slip or wash to elaborate red or red and black decoration. The proliferation of stands in the late 2nd millennium reaches its apex in the 11th to 10th centuries in the Jezreel and Beth Shean valleys, with the greatest number of stands from any one level coming from the lower level V temples at Beth Shean itself, where 10 complete examples and fragments from 43 more are recorded (Rowe 1940: 38–42; Gilmour 1995: 78, 306–15). 2 Cylindrical stands are found in a variety of contexts in Iron Age I, including domestic areas, temples, secondary cult sites, and workshop areas, while their Late and Middle Bronze Age predecessors came almost exclusively from temple contexts. The function of these stands in their early Iron Age contexts remains unclear, but if their Mesopotamian predecessors are at all indicative they probably served a number of purposes. However, although they are often referred to in the literature as incense burners, there is little evidence that they performed this function. Although incense 2.  Rowe lists 43 complete and fragmentary stands from both Lower Level V temples, in three categories: cylinders, shrine-houses, and sacred “boxes.” In my doctoral dissertation, I listed references to 53 stands from Fitzgerald 1930; Rowe 1940; and James 1966. It is possible that in the case of a few of the fragments listed in my catalogue, different pieces came from the same stand, thereby reducing the total number of stands by a small amount.

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became more widely available in the later Iron II period (Gitin 1992; 2002; see also Haran 1993), its use in the early Iron Age would have been limited due to its restricted availability and expense. Consequently, it was probably confined to temples. In addition, and critically, very few of the bowls associated with these stands show any sign of burning, which suggests that they had other functions as well. Among the several likely possibilities are that they served as elaborate containers for food offerings, libations, and vegetation offerings, and even as holders for sacred trees. They may also have served as stands for lamps (Meyers 2003: 75). In the area of Philistia in the southwest, a local variation in cult-stand decoration occurs in the form of cut-out designs. These occur at Tell Qasile (Mazar 1980: fig. 23) and at Dor (Stern and Sharon 1995: 28). The Tell Qasile stand design depicts four people striding. The Dor stand, which consists of a bowl on a short, four-sided stand, has cut-out designs on two of the sides of the stand. They are executed in reverse technique to the Tell Qasile stand, so that the cut-out part forms the image of a dancing figure. Both stands have another possible but more-distant companion in the 10th-century musicians stand from Ashdod, where part of the central figure (“Musician 1”) was created by spaces cut into the wall of the stand (Dothan 1977; Ben-Shlomo 2005: 180–84, fig. 3.78.1). 3

Cylindrical Stands in the Iron Age IIC Cylindrical fenestrated cult stands are rare in the later Iron Age, particularly in the period following the destruction of Samaria in the late 8th century b.c.e. The type declines, though it does not disappear. A few stands from the period have been found in the south of the country and in Philistia that serve as comparative types to the Gezer stand. Ashdod At Ashdod, a type of cylindrical stand with doors rather than windows is present in 9th- and 8th-century b.c.e. contexts (Dothan and Freedman 1967: fig. 38:6, pl. 25:9; Dothan 1971: figs. 44:15, 16, 18), but this type does not appear to continue into the later Iron Age. Among the stand types that is prominent at Ashdod is a white-slipped cylindrical object with knobs, or lugs, sometimes in two rows, around the top (Ben-Shlomo 2005: 212, fig. 3.95:8). They range from around 10 cm (Dothan and Freedman 1967: figs. 38:7–8; Dothan 1971: figs. 96:4, 103:7; Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.110:3–4) to almost 25 cm high (Ben-Shlomo 2005: fig. 3.95:8). The stand is tapered at the waist and then f lares slightly to the rim. It is unclear which way up it should stand, on the knobs or on the rim. Ben-Shlomo suggests that the large example from strata IX–VIII 3.  At the conference Forces of Transformation: The End of the Bronze Age in the Mediterranean, which took place at St John’s College, Oxford, on 25th and 26th March 2006, Stephen Bourke announced that an almost identical stand to the Tel Qasile stand was excavated recently at Pella in the Jordan Valley.

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in Area K at Ashdod, the rim of which was modified or scraped off, may have originally been designed to stand with the knobbed side down but in secondary use was placed with the knobbed side up, as it was found in situ (Ben-Shlomo 2005: 212). This type begins in the late 9th or 8th century at Ashdod and continues through to the end of the Iron Age. Although it appears to be a typically local form at Ashdod, Ben-Shlomo draws attention to a similar item from Ashdod Yam (Kaplan 1969: fig.  8.6), as well as an unpublished example from Tel Hamid (Ben-Shlomo 2005: 212). Tel Miqne–Ekron The type found at Tel Miqne–Ekron is a development of stands with pendant leaves or lugs that are common in the early Iron Age (e.g., Loud 1948: pls. 87:12, 145:15; Rast 1978: fig. 54). The design continues, particularly on chalices (e.g., Herzog et al. 1984: fig. 15; Gitin 1993: fig. 5b), though it is also found on stands. Examples of the latter come from Tel Miqne–Ekron, where several tall stands with similar leaves or lugs were found in the stratum IB destruction layers dated to the end of the 7th century b.c.e. One of these, from the elite zone in Field IV, has three or four rows of windows, with lugs just below the rim. Another stand came from a room in the stratum IA “Assyrian” type courtyard building, dated to the early 6th century b.c.e. It is shorter and wider than the first, though without the sharply pinched waist generally found on the ubiquitous pot stands. It has two rows of inverted triangular or rhomboid windows, with molded ridges above and below the rows of windows, but no slip or painted decoration (Gitin: oral communication). 4 Jerusalem Kenyon’s excavations on the east slope of the City of David produced three stands from Cave 1. Stand 270 is a tall, cylindrical stand covered with a thick-red slip and fenestrated with two rows of triangular windows (fig. 4). Fragments of two similar stands, numbers 321 and 1158, were also found in the cave (Eshel 1995: 54, fig. 31:12, pl. 17:10). Cave 1 was originally carved near the base of the east slope of the City of David as a burial cave in the 9th or 8th century b.c.e. It was then cleared of all burial remains and served for a while as a water reservoir before being transformed in phase 3 into a storage area for a large number of household utensils. This phase witnessed a violent destruction when more vessels fell into the cave along with burned bricks and other debris. All the pottery from the cave came from phase 3, which was dated by the excavator to the early to mid-7th century b.c.e. This was followed by a final phase, phase 4, when the cave was completely abandoned and blocked off by new late Iron Age II buildings outside the entrance (Eshel 1995: 11–17, 54–62). 4. I am grateful to S. Gitin for permission to refer to these unpublished items from Tel Miqne–Ekron.

A Late Iron Age Cult Stand from Gezer A large number of pillar figurines, horse figurines with sundiscs on the foreheads, other animal figurines, and religious paraphernalia led Kenyon and others to suggest that at least some of the contents of the cave, including the three stands, came from a nearby sanctuary (Holland 1995: 187). Like the Gezer stand, the Jerusalem stands seem to fall well within the corpus of 12th- to 9th-century red-slipped fenestrated stands and, for this reason, appear to be among the earliest items in the cave. Triangular windows such as those on the illustrated Jerusalem stand occur in earlier periods. In addition to the two Iron Age IIB examples from Hazor stratum V and Tell en-Nasbeh cited by Eshel (Yadin et al. 1958: pl. 57:22; Wampler 1947: pl. 77; cited in Eshel 1995: 54), triangular windows also feature in the possible shrine room 49 in stratum V at Lachish (Aharoni 1975: pl. 43:3) dated to the 10th century, in stratum VI at Megiddo (Loud 1948: pls. 87:10–11, 145:11–12) dated to the 11th century (Harrison 2004: 11–13; Stager 2004), and in the large corpus of stands from Beth Shean Lower Level V dated variously from the 12th to the 10th centuries (Rowe 1940: pls. 14:3, 17:8; Panitz-Cohen and Mazar 2009: 13). All of these comparative stands predate the early to mid-7thcentury date ascribed to the corpus from Cave 1.

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Fig. 4.  Cult Stand from Jerusalem, Cave 1 (after Eshel 1995: fig. 31.12; reproduced courtesy of the Council for British Research in the Levant).

Tel Halif (Lahav) Two stands from Tel Halif also fall within the corpus of Late Iron Age fenestrated cylindrical stands. The first was found in the late-8th-century destruction level in Field IV, in the broad, rear room of a four-roomed house that showed evidence of ritual or religious activity as well as food consumption (Hardin 2010: 209, pl. 4:7). The stand is well preserved, but the rim has been damaged (fig. 5). Hardin suggests that this was caused by the object’s being used as a pot stand. However, the stand may originally have been taller than its present 25-cm height, with the new rim being roughly smoothed after the break that removed the original upper part of the stand. The stand has seven small round windows and four larger, roughly rectangular windows. The exterior surface is covered with a reddish-brown slip, with incised, banded decoration. The second example from Tel Halif is another fenestrated cylindrical stand from a deep debris layer in stratum VIA in Field II, dated to the early to middle 7th century b.c.e.

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Fig. 5.  Cult Stand from Tell Halif (Lahav), Field IV (after Hardin 2010: pl. 4:7; reproduced courtesy of Lahav Research Project).

The debris came from the destruction and collapse of the stratum VIA structures. The stand was not slipped or burnished and was broken, with its top missing. Its preserved height is 25.5 cm. It has seven roughly rectangular windows in two rows (Seger: oral communication). 5 5.  I am grateful to J. Seger for permission to refer to this unpublished item from Tel Halif (Lahav).

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Gezer Finally, Macalister found an elaborately decorated cylindrical fenestrated stand at Gezer itself, in Tomb 142, the contents of which all point to an Iron IIB–C date (Macalister 1912: vol. 2.353–54, pls. 103, 106:6). The presence of a characteristic small black juglet with handle from rim to shoulder (pl. 103:11) and a piece of a glass bottle suggest that the tomb should be dated later rather than earlier in Iron II, though it may have been in use for some time. The stand is incomplete, and its base is not preserved. The surviving upper portion has two rows of rectangular windows, the lower row of windows being slightly larger than the upper row. A slight ridge above the windows tapers very slightly to a pronounced rim. Macalister describes the stand as being “of light red ware, ornamented with painted decoration in red and black. The curious irregular pattern round the top is remarkable” (Macalister 1912: vol. 2.354). It is unclear from this description whether the stand was covered in red slip, or whether it was the clay that was light red in color. However, the rest of the decoration is indeed striking. Banded decoration with thick red lines and thinner black lines is found at the bottom of the preserved part of the stand, above and below the two rows of windows, above the ridge, and on the rim. Two bands of painted geometric decoration surround the top of the stand, between the top three red and black bands. The lower of the two decorated bands is the narrower and consists of a rough zigzag line with occasional vertical lines along its length. The upper band is wider and more elaborate, with a zigzag line creating space for filled standing triangles. The pendant triangles created by the zigzag line are unfilled. As in the lower band, there are occasional vertical lines that cut and occasionally interrupt the zigzag line. A rectangle divided vertically in two and containing three horizontal lines provides the start and end point of the zigzag line. Macalister’s stand has no direct parallels but is somewhat similar in decoration to stands from stratum X at Tel Qasile (Mazar 1980: 93, fig. 27, reg. no. 3604) and Beth Shean lower level V (Rowe 1940: pl. 15:2). The small rectangular windows are also reminiscent of 10th-century stands. On the basis of these parallels, then, the stand should be dated to the 10th century b.c.e. While the context is a cave tomb that contained later items almost exclusively, the absence of any contemporary parallel for this stand suggests that it is a survivor, perhaps an heirloom from the earlier period that was placed in this tomb in the 7th century b.c.e.

Conclusion The Gezer cult stand adds significantly to the small corpus of late Iron Age stands from Israel and Judah. While it is no surprise that such stands should be few in number in the north following the destruction of Samaria by the Assyrians and the exile of large numbers of Israelites at the end of the 8th century, the relative paucity of stands in 7th-century Judah may be a product of the changes in religious attitudes and

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activity in the Southern Kingdom in the later years of the monarchy. The maturing of the centralized cult in Jerusalem throughout this period and the emphasis on formalized religion based in the Temple might be expected to result in fewer manifestations of popular cult or folk religion in the 7th century. However, the biblical record of apostasy during the reign of Manasseh coupled with the archaeological evidence of many if not all of the religious practices outlawed in Josiah’s reforms that followed (Dever 1994) strongly suggest that the temple cult in Jerusalem, at least in its idealized form as presented in the Bible, was not as dominant in the first half of the 7th century as it later became under Josiah. The prevalence of small pillar figurines, confined almost completely to Judah in the late 8th and 7th centuries (Holladay 1987: 276–78; Kletter 1996: 40–48; Dever 2005: 179–80), aptly demonstrates that whatever the official proclamations from the center were, a thriving popular religion continued to be manifested. Large numbers of horse-and-rider figurines, indicative of the inf luence of Assyrian astral religion (Cogan 1974: 84–88; Ackerman 2001: 94–99) and small stone incense altars associated with the worship of the Queen of Heaven (Ackerman 2001: 91–92; King and Stager 2001: 344–53; Gitin 2002) are also among the variety of religious objects from the late 8th and 7th centuries that testify to this alternative, popular cult. The small corpus of fenestrated cylindrical cult stands in Judah and Philistia dated to the late 8th and 7th centuries, now augmented by the stand from Gezer, is a further significant element of this popular religion. In addition, the Israelite and even Canaanite precursors of these late Iron Age stands show that elements of the former religious practices continued to be retained by the people of Judah at the same time as they adopted and adapted new ideas introduced by the Assyrians. This essay was originally submitted in April 2006.

Bibliography Ackerman, S. 2001 Under Every Green Tree: Popular Religion in Sixth-Century Judah. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Aharoni, Y. 1975 Investigations at Lachish: The Sanctuary and the Residency (Lachish V). Tel Aviv: Gateway. Aldred, C. 1978 Tradition and Revolution in the Art of the XVIIIth Dynasty. Pp. 51–62 in Immortal Egypt, ed. D. Schmandt-Besserat. Malibu, CA: Undena. Amiran, R. 1989 An Early Bronze I Basalt Cult-Bowl with Ibex Reliefs. Israel Museum Journal 8: 17–23. 1992 The Development of the Cult Stand from the Chalcolithic Period through the EB I, II and III Periods. Eretz-Israel 23 (Biran Volume): 72–75, 148*–49*. [Hebrew with English summary] Amiran, R., and Porat, N. 1984 The Basalt Vessels of the Chalcolithic Period and Early Bronze Age I. Tel Aviv 11: 11–19. Ben-Shlomo, D. 2005 Material Culture. Pp. 63–246 in Ashdod VI: The Excavations of Areas H and K (1968–1969), ed. M. Dothan and D. Ben-Shlomo. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 24. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority.

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Braun, E. 1990 Basalt Bowls of the EB I Horizon in the Southern Levant. Paléorient 16/1: 87–96. Buchanan, B. 1966 Catalogue of Ancient Near Eastern Cylinder Seals in the Ashmolean Museum, vol. 1: Cylinder Seals. Oxford: Clarendon. Cogan, M. 1974 Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah and Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries b.c.e. Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series 19. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press. Dever, W. G. 1994 The Silence of the Text: An Archaeological Commentary on 2 Kings 23. Pp. 143–68 in Scripture and Other Artifacts: Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Honor of Philip J. King, ed. M. D. Coogan, J. C. Exum, and L. E. Stager. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. 2005 Did God Have a Wife? Archaeology and Folk Religion in Ancient Israel. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. Dothan, M. 1971 Ashdod II–III: The Second and Third Seasons of Excavations 1963, 1965. Soundings in 1967. ʿAtiqot 9–10. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. 1977 The Musicians of Ashdod. Biblical Archaeologist 40: 38–39. Dothan, M., and Freedman, D. N. 1967 Ashdod I: The First Season of Excavations 1962. ʿAtiqot 7. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Eshel, I. 1995 Two Pottery Groups from Kenyon’s Excavations on the Eastern Slope of Ancient Jerusalem. Pp. 1–157 in Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, vol. 4: The Iron Age Cave Deposits on the South-east Hill and Isolated Burials and Cemeteries Elsewhere, ed. I. Eshel and K. Prag. British Academy Monographs in Archaeology 6. Oxford: Published for The British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem by the Oxford University Press. FitzGerald, G. 1930 The Four Canaanite Temples of Beth-Shan, vol. 2: The Pottery. Philadelphia: University Museum, University of Pennsylvania Press. Frankfort, H. 1924 Studies in Early Pottery of the Near East, vol. 1: Mesopotamia, Syria, and Egypt and Their Earliest Interrelations. London: Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland. 1939 Cylinder Seals. London: Macmillan. Gesell, G. C. 1976 The Minoan Snake Tube. American Journal of Archaeology 80: 247–59. Gilmour, G. 1995 The Archaeology of Cult in the Southern Levant in the Early Iron Age: An Analytical and Comparative Approach. D. Phil. Dissertation. University of Oxford. forthcoming  Gezer VI: The Objects from Phases I and II (1964–1974). Jerusalem: Hebrew Union College. Gitin, S. 1990 Gezer III: A Ceramic Typology of the Late Iron II, Persian and Hellenistic Periods at Tell Gezer. Text. Annual of the Nelson Glueck School of Biblical Archaeology 3. Jerusalem: Hebrew Union College. 1992 New Incense Altars from Ekron: Context, Typology and Function. Eretz-Israel 23 (Biran Volume): 43*–49*. 1993 Seventh Century b.c.e. Cultic Elements at Ekron. Pp. 248–58 in Biblical Archaeology Today, 1990, ed. A. Biran and J. Aviram. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. 2002 The Four-Horned Altar and Sacred Space: An Archaeological Perspective. Pp. 95–123 in Sacred Time, Sacred Place: Archaeology and the Religion of Israel, ed. B. M. Gittlen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

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Haran, M. 1993 Incense Altars: Are They? Pp.  237–47 in Biblical Archaeology Today, 1990, ed. A. Biran and J. Avi­ram. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. Hardin, J. W. 2010 Lahav II: Households and the Use of Domestic Space at Iron II Tell Halif: An Archaeology of Destruction. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Harrison, T. P. 2004 Megiddo 3: Final Report on the Stratum I Excavations. Oriental Institute Publication 127. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Herzog, Z.; Aharoni, M.; Rainey, A.F.; and Moshkovitz, S. 1984 The Israelite Fortress at Arad. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 254: 1–34. Holladay, J. S. 1987 Religion in Israel and Judah under the Monarchy: An Explicitly Archaeological Approach. Pp. 249–99 in Ancient Israelite Religion: Essays in Honor of Frank Moore Cross, ed. P. D. Miller, P. D. Hanson, and S. D. McBride. Philadelphia: Fortress. Holland, T. A. 1995 A Study of Palestinian Iron Age Baked Clay Figurines with Special Reference to Jerusalem: Cave I. Pp. 159–89 in Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, vol. 4: The Iron Age Cave Deposits on the South-east Hill and Isolated Burials and Cemeteries Elsewhere, ed. I. Eshel and K. Prag. British Academy Monographs in Archaeology 6. Oxford: Published for The British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem by the Oxford University Press. James, F. W. 1966 The Iron Age at Beth-Shan. Philadelphia: University Museum. Kaplan, J. 1969 The Stronghold of Yamani at Ashdod-Yam. Israel Exploration Journal 19: 137–49. King, P. J., and Stager, L. E. 2001 Life in Biblical Israel. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. Kletter, R. 1996 The Judean Pillar-Figurines and the Archaeology of Asherah. British Archaeological Reports, International Series 636. Oxford: Tempus Reparatum. Loud, G. 1948 Megiddo II. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Macalister, R. A. S. 1912 The Excavation of Gezer, 1902–1905 and 1907–1909, vol. 2. London: Published for the Committee of the Palestine Exploration Fund by John Murray. Mazar, A. 1980 Excavations at Tell Qasile, part 1: The Philistine Sanctuary: Architecture and Cult Objects. Qedem 12. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Mazar, A., and Panitz Cohen, N. 2001 Timnah (Tel Batash), vol. 2: The Finds from the First Millennium b.c.e. Qedem 42. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Meyers, C. L. 2003 The Tabernacle Menorah: A Synthetic Study of a Symbol from the Biblical Cult. 2nd edition. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias. Nagel, G. 1938 La ceramique du Nouvel Empire à Deir el Medineh. Cairo: L’Imprimerie de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Panitz Cohen, N., and Mazar, A. 2009 Excavations at Tel Beth-Shean 1989–1996, vol. 3: The 13–11th Century b.c.e. Strata in Areas N and S. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society

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Peet, T. E., and Woolley, C. L. 1923 The City of Akhenaten, part 1: Excavations of 1921 and 1922 at El-ʿAmarneh. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Pritchard, J. B. 1969 The Ancient Near East in Pictures Relating to the Old Testament. 2nd edition with supplement. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rast, W. E. 1978 Taanach I: Studies in the Iron Age Pottery. Cambridge, MA: American Schools of Oriental Research. Rowe, A. 1940 The Four Canaanite Temples of Beth-Shan, part 1: Temples and Cult Objects. Philadelphia: University Museum, University of Pennsylvania Press. Smith, W. S. 1958 The Art and Architecture of Ancient Egypt. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Stager, L. E. 2004 Foreword. Pp. xix–xx in Megiddo 3: Final Report on the Stratum I Excavations, ed. T. P. Harrison. Oriental Institution Publication 127. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Stern, E., and Sharon, I. 1995 Tel Dor, 1993: Preliminary Report. Israel Exploration Journal 45: 26–36. Wampler, J. C. 1947 Tell en-Nasbeh Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè, vol. 2: The Pottery. Berkeley: The Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion and The American Schools of Oriental Research. Yadin, Y.; Aharoni, Y.; Amiran, R.; Dothan, T.; Dunayevsky, I.; and Perrot, J. 1958 Hazor, vol. 1: 1st Season, 1955. Jerusalem: Magnes.

Tomb Raiding in Western Ramallah Province, Palestine: An Ethnographic Study Salah Hussein al-Houdalieh The Institute of Archaeology Al-Quds University, Jerusalem

Background The cumulative archaeological fieldwork carried out in Ramallah province over the past two centuries has proven that this region attracted a long series of diverse inhabitants—people who settled on the land, without interruption, from the Paleolithic down to modern times (al-Houdalieh and Sauders 2009: 7). Actually, Ramallah is considered one of the richest provinces of the Occupied Palestinian National Territories (OPNT) in terms of its archaeological heritage with a total of some 2,200 historic and archaeological sites and features, of which 1,150 are located in the western part of the province (Yahya 2008: 40). Ramallah’s cultural heritage encompasses several components: major and minor archaeological sites, historic villages, traditional buildings, sacred places, ancient roads, cisterns, olive and wine presses, cemeteries, and rock-cut tombs (cf. Nayrouz 2004; al-Houdalieh and Sauders 2009: 7). In the OPNT, the serious vandalizing of heritage resources in search of valuable material culture objects began in the middle of the last century. The antiquities hunters typically work in gangs of three to seven persons, and they have vandalized practically everything they can reach, such as well-stratified cultural layers, subterranean rock-cut dwellings, cisterns, and rock-cut burial caves of various periods—even the tombs of Muslim saints. This practice has resulted in the destruction of a large number of historical and archaeological sites, not to mention the extraction of hundreds of thousands of heritage objects from their original cultural contexts. The forces driving this vandalism of heritage resources in the OPNT are numerous: the depressed economic state of Palestinian society; inadequate law enforcement in the OPNT; the Israeli antiquities law of 1978, which allows for a licensed, “legal” antiquities trade; and a lack of awareness among the majority of the Palestinians about the importance of heritage resources to their national identity. 1 1. For more about the forces driving antiquities hunting in the OPNT, see Kersel 2006: 54–68; Yahya 2008: 41–43; al-Houdalieh 2010: 35–36.

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During the course of several fieldwork projects throughout the OPNT that I have carried out as part of a longer-term study of Palestine’s cultural heritage, I have observed a large number of vandalized rock-cut tombs. According to detailed information provided to me by several interviewees, the antiquities hunters are more attracted to vandalizing tombs than they are to other archaeological features for several reasons. First, the tomb raiders are aware that the rock-cut tombs include funerary objects and sometimes treasures, depending on the socioeconomic, religious, and political status of the buried individuals. Second, due to their long and well-developed fieldwork experience (sometimes stemming from their work as laborers on legal excavations), the looters can easily pinpoint the exact location of the tombs based on visual clues, such as obvious stone-cut marks or dressing, or a tree f lourishing in a rocky area with minimal earth deposits (indicating a below-ground chamber). Finally, the process of hunting cultural heritage objects from tombs consumes less time and effort for the looter than digging wide, deep trenches into an area of ruins. The importance of the present work is fivefold: (1) it highlights the value of ethnographic study as part of a larger archaeological or anthropological research agenda; (2) it presents the diversity of tomb types from different periods within the study area; (3) it explores the methods that vandals use and discusses the fate of the hunted objects; (4) it examines the moral-ethical viewpoint of the tomb raiders regarding the disturbance of human skeletal remains; and last, (5) it illustrates the destructive impact of illegal excavations on archaeological heritage resources. In light of the above, the primary aims of this study are to address two crucial questions: What are the real challenges, both present and future, facing ancient tombs in the study area? Will an ethnographic study help expand our understanding of the tomb raiding phenomenon in the OPNT?

Research Methods The methodology employed in this research project included active interviews with tomb raiders plus personal visits to 30 different historical and archaeological sites in western Ramallah Province (fig. 1). The interviews were conducted by the author in December 2010 and January 2011 with a total of 45 informants. The tomb raiders were Palestinians living in 16 different villages in western Ramallah Province, and they were all males between 26 and 60 years of age. The study sample of the tomb raiders was selected carefully by the author, taking into account their fieldwork experience, the number of times they had participated in illegal digging, and their distribution by place of residence. The interviews with 60% of the tomb raiders went smoothly, with only minimal reservations on their part, since they had been included in study samples for several previous research projects of mine concerning Palestine’s cultural heritage. However, making the arrangements for interviewing the other 40% of this study sample proved relatively complicated. Therefore, I

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Fig. 1.  The location of the visited historical and archaeological sites in western Ramallah Province. Drawing by I. Iqtait.

worked through mediators, people who were either relatives of the desired interviewees or middlemen in the antiquities trade who had close working relationships with these tomb raiders. All of the interviews with this latter group (the 40%) were in fact carried out in the presence of the mediators. At the beginning of each interview, I gave a general (and informal, even lighthearted) introduction that included my name, place of residence, and occupation, some brief information about my publications, some humorous situations involving antiquities hunters (without giving names), and stories of well-known treasure discoveries in the region. At the conclusion, I assured them that I would not record their real names, either on the questionnaire or in any future publication. The interviews were carried out in a conversational style in an attempt to create positive interaction between the researcher and interviewees and with the goal of acquiring a better understanding of the tomb looting phenomenon. In a few cases, the interviewee’s answers were extremely brief. In these situations, the mediator, especially if it was a middleman, actually became the active participant (as interviewer), while I assumed the role of observer; and once the subject became more comfortable and forthcoming, I then resumed control of the interview. Actually, as a local archaeologist

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Salah Hussein al-Houdalieh Table 1.  The Educational Level Distribution of the Informants Number of Individuals  3 12 21  9

Educational Level Illiterate Completed primary school (6th grade) Graduated from high school (12th grade) Technical institute or university graduate

with relatively long experience dealing with antiquities looters, I had little difficulty in gaining access to a significant number of tomb raiders. 2 The interviewees were asked a standard set of questions, and their responses were written down on the spot: 1.  What is your level of education? 2.  How many times have you participated in plundering tombs, and how many hours have you spent doing so, in total? 3.  Are you still digging ancient tombs at present, and if not, why did you stop? 4.  Did you find archaeological objects in the burial tombs? If so, what kinds and amounts of materials were found, and what did you do with the finds? 5.  What were the driving forces behind your participation in plundering ancient tombs? 6.  What were the procedures employed in excavating a tomb or burial cave? 7.  How did you deal with the human skeletal remains found within the tombs? 8.  Has there been any improvement in your economic situation as a result of your participation in digging out ancient burial places?

At the beginning of all the meetings with the informants, I provided sufficient explanation that each person could make an informed, voluntarily decision about whether or not to participate in this research project. I described the potential benefits of his participation in this study for the discipline of archaeology, both in the OPNT and worldwide. I also made the informants aware of how their responses would be used. Finally, I guaranteed all informants that any personal identifying information would be kept confidential. The visits to the 30 historical and archaeological sites were carried out in January and February 2011. The selection of the tombs to be visited was based on the valuable information provided by the interviewees about the places they had vandalized and looted. The fieldwork team consisted of 36 persons: the author and 35 of the tomb raiders (from among the group of 45 interviewees). Each of these tomb raiders accompanied me for several hours in order to pinpoint the known looted tombs in the area where he resided and its environs. The visits to the 30 archaeological sites were unsystematic and were guided by the tomb raiders themselves in order to show me the plundered tombs; and for me to gain information about their top plan, their precise location relative to the larger archaeological site, and their current physical state; and for me to document these places with photographs. 2.  I am a native of western Ramallah Province and a current resident of the city of Ramallah.

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Table 2.  Tomb-Raiding Participation of the Informants Illegal Excavation Participation Number of Individuals  3–5  5  6–10  9 11–15 13 16–20 11  7 21 and above

Table 3.  Distribution of the Estimated Total Working Hours of the Informants Estimated Total Working Hours Number of Individuals Fewer than 20 3 21–30 2 31–40 4 41–50 2 51–60 3 61–70 5 71–80 6 81–90 5 91–100 7 101 and above 8

Research Results The Questionnaire What follows, in summary fashion, are the results of the questionnaire administered verbally to each of the tomb raiders. Several of the informants were “professional” antiquities hunters, engaging in this activity as their livelihood. These individuals had acquired well-developed and rather astonishing fieldwork experience and often used technical archaeological terms to describe the encountered objects, such as a Herodian lamp, Hasmonean coin, Jewish ossuary, Umayyad jar, or an Egyptian scarab. Furthermore, they could often date the hunted material with a fair degree of certainty, such as Iron Age II, Early Roman period, Late Byzantine period, or Abbasid era. In fact, they knew almost all of the newly discovered burial sites in their surroundings and the heritage objects recovered from each, since they had usually been asked by other tomb raiders, those with lesser fieldwork experience, to date and evaluate the newly extracted objects for them. Table 1 shows the reported level of formal education of the 45 tomb-raider informants. With regard to the number of occasions on which they had participated in

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plundering rock-cut tombs, see table 2. And see table 3 for their estimated total working hours spent digging and vandalizing the tombs. The informants who said they still occasionally dig burial tombs in search of valuable objects numbered 13 (of 45), while the rest stated that they have since given up digging. Of the 32 informants who have stopped digging tombs and other archaeological features, 9 are convinced that there are no intact features or archaeological sites left in the area where they live for the purpose of digging and extracting objects of value; 6 lacked the free time to excavate tombs or other archaeological features, since they now have permanent jobs; and 17 feared the consequences imposed by the Palestinian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities and other related enforcement agencies. All of the informants responded that they had found various types of funerary objects, which included pottery lamps, bowls, jars of different sizes, bottles, a few cooking pots, coins, metallic jewelry (including bracelets, finger rings, earrings, and anklets), scarabs, figurines, and glass jugs. The total estimated number of heritage objects extracted by these 45 informants came to more than 19,000 items. Predominant among these looted objects were ceramic oil lamps, followed by coins and metallic ornaments. Less frequently found objects were cooking pots, jars, scarabs, and figurines. Indeed, some of the informants stated that they had found more than one hundred pottery lamps in each of several different burial caves. Furthermore, a few informants stated that in some of the tombs they uncovered and entered they did not find any funerary objects or human skeletal remains. With respect to the extracted material, all of the informants responded that they sold these objects to Arab-Palestinian middlemen who maintain close working relationships with Arab and Israeli antiquities dealers in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Haifa. Most of the informants (32 out of 45) attributed their participation in vandalizing tombs to the lack of a permanent job, to their financial responsibility for their immediate families, ranging in size between 5 and 12 persons, or to their desire to assist their parents in meeting basic family needs. A few other informants (5) ascribed their participation in tomb raiding to the inadequacy of current law enforcement in the OPNT. The rest of the interviewed subjects (8)—who actually own the parcels of land where some of the potential burial sites were located—attributed their activities in plundering the tombs to the encouragement they received from various looting gangs to excavate there. In connection to the question of motivation, I asked all of the informants if they considered the vandalizing of Roman period burial sites, especially if they belonged to a Jewish populace in antiquity, as an act of national resistance? Interestingly, all of them answered in the negative, and indeed, the majority of the informants were well aware that all of the hunted objects find their way into Israel. In response to the question about the methods employed in excavating a burial cave, the informants described the following procedures: once the tomb raiders identify the possible location of the entrance to a rock-hewn tomb, they dig a 1-to-1.5-meter-

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wide trench into the earth deposit in front of the presumed façade, using either traditional excavation hand tools or heavy equipment such as bulldozers. They then destroy any door blockage and sometimes widen the small original entrance by breaking away the rock on one or both sides in order to facilitate their access to the tomb chamber. The majority of the tombs were found with only a minimal dust deposit covering the f loor, while some were filled to a certain height with accumulated deposits of earth and other debris. The informants believe that such earth deposits infiltrated the chambers over a long period of time, through cracks and holes in the ceilings or sides of the tombs. The work inside these earth-filled tombs is unpleasant for some of the antiquities hunters because they usually have to spend several days removing the deposit in order to reach the cultural-heritage objects in the niches or graves and/or lying on the chamber f loor; the looters also fear being attacked by dangerous insects, scorpions, and snakes. When the antiquities hunters find a tomb free of thick deposits, they first wait 20–30 minutes in order to exchange the air of the tomb for fresh outside air, after which they enter the tomb with their excavation equipment, using candles, kerosene lamps, or f lashlights for illumination. Next, they carefully collect all visible pottery vessels, then remove the stone covers from the graves to search among the skeletal remains for other valuable funerary objects such as coins, earrings, beads, bracelets, and anklets. After this, they remove the human bones from the burial places, dumping them in heaps inside or outside the tomb, in order to search through the earth deposits for other objects, using sifters and/or metal detectors. Finally, most of the antiquities hunters reported searching the f loors of the tomb chambers with special interest, in search of a particular kind of man-made cavity known to them as the “middle or central pit,” which often contains the skeletal remains of several individuals, together with their funerary objects. At the conclusion of the operation, the tomb raiders either leave the vandalized tombs completely open or they close the site by backfilling the trench excavated along the tomb’s façade (cf. al-Houdalieh 2006: 103–4; 2009: 35–36; Kersel 2006: 55–57; Yahya 2008: 41–43). The majority of the informants paid no particular attention to—and had minimal respect for—the human skeletal remains found in these vandalized tombs. The long bones and skulls encountered in their original graves were removed and dumped randomly in one or more spots inside the tomb, the workers treading on them as the operation progressed. The small bones were incorporated into the soil deposits of the burial cave, which were removed for sifting outside in search of small objects of value; at the conclusion, the discarded material, including the bones, was simply scattered on the surface. In our visits to the 30 archaeological sites, I determined the following: (1) None of the human skeletal remains was reburied in its original grave or even in another place; a large number of the visited tombs were left open and absolutely clean down to the

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a

b

c

d

e

f

g

h

i

j

k

l

Fig. 2.  View of various subjects: (a)  Bilʾin; (b)  Kh. ʿAin Sibya; (c)  Kh. Beit Raddof; (d)  Kh. Kafr Sheiyan; (e)  Kh. Kafr Sheiyan; (f )  Bilʾin; (g)  Kh. Beit Raddof; (h)  el-Jania; (i)  Kh. Beit Raddof; ( j)  el-Khirba; (k)  el-Khirba; (l)  Lʾisa. Photos by the author, 2011.

bedrock, while the rest were backfilled with rubble, soil, modern material—and visible human bones. (2) Very few complete human skulls were identified among all the visited burial sites (fig. 2a). (3) A large number of human bone fragments (ribs, tibias, vertebrae, crania, maxillae, mandibles, tarsal bones, phalanges, femurs, metacarpals, and

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teeth) were observed both inside and outside the visited tombs. Finally, (4) all of the observed human bones were in poor physical condition. In my discussions with the informants, I inquired about the moral aspects (if any) of their plundering funerary objects of the deceased and of their dealing with unearthed human skeletal remains in such a manner. The prevailing sentiment among their various responses can be characterized as thus: “We [the tomb raiders] have nothing against the ancient decedents. We don’t even know who they were. Our goal was only to extract objects of monetary value and to sell them to whomever, in order to stay alive. In any event, the failure to collect all the bones of the same skeleton in one spot will not prevent that person’s resurrection at the Judgment Day.” One particular response—from a professional antiquities looter who had dug more than 30 tombs and participated in plundering many other archaeological sites of Ramallah Province before ceasing his looting activity several years ago—was very impressive. He stated: “Look, when reviewing in my mind the horrible things that I was doing in these ancient burial places, I become saddened and ashamed of myself, and I wish that I had not dealt with the exposed human skeletal remains in that harsh way. We [the tomb raiders] simply did not fear God, did not respect the sanctity of the deceased, and we were, indeed, rude. I regret, even though it is too late, that I insulted the dead and extracted their funerary objects.” Almost all of the informants responded that no real improvement had occurred in their financial situation as a result of their participation in digging out ancient burial caves, and a large number of them now consider antiquities hunting, based on their personal experience, to be an unprofitable activity. Several of them provided me with specific examples. One looting gang consisting of five persons cleared out a burial cave over three days (at least 12 hours per day), and they sold the recovered heritage material to an Arab middleman for about $1,000 U.S., meaning that each person earned $66 per day. Another looting gang of three persons secured a bulldozer for one and a half days in order to remove all surface accumulations (soil, cultural deposits, etc.) over an area of approximately 1,000 square meters, resulting in the discovery of two burial caves, which they proceeded to vandalize over a period of four days. One of these two tombs was completely empty of human skeletal remains (and thus of any funerary objects), while the second yielded various objects that they sold for $700. After paying the bulldozer driver $350, each person in this gang took home less than $35 per day for their labors. Taking into account the sensitivity of posing direct questions to people about significant changes in their financial status and the likelihood that they might be less than truthful, I therefore asked some of the residents in their villages about any particular sudden change in the informants’ situation over the previous few years. Interestingly, the information elicited in this manner corroborated the previous responses of the tomb raiders—that is, they had not gained significant profit from their looting activities.

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Results of the Author’s Visits to the Thirty Historical and Archaeological Sites The visits to the 30 historical and archaeological sites located in western Ramallah Province yielded a number of important findings: 1.  According to Finkelstein and Lederman (1997), the settlement history of most of these visited archaeological sites is dated to the Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, and Early Islamic periods, while the settlement history of a few of them begins earlier than the Hellenistic period, going back to the Middle Bronze Age. 2.  All of these archaeological sites have been heavily vandalized over the past few decades, sometimes using heavy equipment, as indicated by the visible tracks of bulldozers (fig. 2b). 3.  The total number of the vandalized and looted burial caves in these archaeological sites is over 400, and several of these tomb structures were likewise damaged or destroyed to varying extents (fig. 2c). 4.  According to the information provided by the tomb raiders, based on their understanding of tomb architecture and the types of extracted objects, approximately 95% of the visited tombs can be dated to the Roman and Byzantine periods. 5.  The predominant styles of the visited burial caves of the Roman and Byzantine periods were subterranean, rock-hewn chambers with one of two types of well-formed burial niches: the tunnel-like loculi (fig. 2d and e) or the shelf-niches with arched ceilings known as arcosolia (fig. 2f ). Tombs of earlier periods, by contrast, tended to be simpler subterranean chambers, with or without special burial places cut in their walls or f loor (fig. 2j). 6.  The majority of the visited tombs are located outside the known residential boundaries of the archaeological sites, whereas the rest are located within the boundaries of the ancient settlements. 7.  The majority of these looted tombs were left open and exposed to the elements (fig. 2h and i), while the rest of the excavation trenches (which had provided access to the entrances) were backfilled with earth, as indicated by the disturbed soil deposits along the façades. 8.  Human skeletal remains were scattered on the disturbed earth deposits covering the chambers’ f loors, and also across a large area surrounding the tombs outside. 9.  Several of the visited tombs, especially those located within the historic cores of modern villages, were reused as cisterns to collect rainwater after being enlarged by cutting back their walls and/or f loors (fig. 2g and k). 10. Olive or fig trees had recently been planted in the disturbed earth deposits in front of several of the looted subterranean tombs (fig. 2l).

Discussion The looting and vandalizing of ancient tombs is a serious worldwide phenomenon, with a history going back several millennia (Kendall 1981: 104; Patron 2008: 473; Bard 2007: 55; Lamberg-Karlovsky 2002: 68; Stander 2009: 77–80; Yahya 2008: 40; al-Houdalieh 2006: 103). In the last two centuries, it has grown to crisis proportions and taken on criminal dimensions. It has resulted in the extraction of a large number

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of funerary objects from their original cultural contexts, the violation of the sanctity of the deceased, the loss of numerous important pieces of national and international cultural property, and the destruction of much of the informational value of a large number of archaeological sites and the remains that they contain. It is a problem affecting a host of countries worldwide, including: Palestine (Kersel, Luke, and Roosevelt 2008: 309–13; Yahya 2008: 41–43; al-Houdalieh 2009: 342); Jordan (Waterhouse 1973: 113–16; Alshami, Haddad, and Arafat 2008: 197); Turkey (Summerer 2007: 139, 144; Kersel, Luke, and Roosevelt 2008: 301–8); Egypt (Kendall 1981: 104; Bard 2007: 55; Wilkinston 2009: 6; Joffe 2011); Kazakhstan (Le Bailly et al. 2008: 70); Cyprus (Demosthenous 2000: x and 5; Ainsworth 2008: 9–10); Greece (Sarris et al. 2007: 3–7); Italy (Brodie, Doole, and Watson 2000: 19; Hailaire 2007: 200); Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize (Brodie, Doole, and Watson 2000: 19); China (Baum 2006: 940–41; Hailaire 2007: 200; Bowman 2008: 229); Peru (Brodie, Doole, and Watson 2000: 15; Hailaire 2007: 200); the United States of America (Texas Historical Commission 1982: 3; Brodie, Doole, and Watson 2000: 20); Canada (Blair 2005: 1–2); Cambodia, India, Kenya, and the United Kingdom (Hailaire 2007: 200). In the OPNT, antiquities hunting is an ongoing, serious threat to the country’s ancient burial caves, not to mention its other cultural-heritage resources. Indeed, about half the tomb raiders interviewed for this study (who probably ref lect the larger reality of tomb raiding throughout the OPNT) are either still actively looting, or they have the desire to resume digging whenever and wherever the opportunity arises. The interviewed tomb raiders have invested more than 3,000 working hours in plundering tombs, using traditional excavation equipment, metal detectors, and occasionally bulldozers. This has resulted in the plundering of a large number of tombs, the extraction of thousands of funerary objects from their original cultural context without any kind of documentation, the disturbance and complete scattering of all encountered human skeletal remains (and then dealing with these in a highly questionable manner), and serious damage to the structural remains and their associated (previously) well-stratified cultural deposits. Approximately 66% of the interviewed tomb raiders had graduated from high school or technical institutions and universities, and, given this, we must conclude that there is no inverse relationship, as one might expect, between a person’s overall educational level and his/her participation in antiquities hunting. Thus, it seems that the local academic institutions (elementary and high schools, technical institutes, and universities) have not managed to provide their students with sufficient educational experiences concerning the world’s ancient civilizations generally, and Palestine’s rich cultural heritage and socioeconomic conditions in particular. Furthermore, I believe that widespread poverty, poor law enforcement, and a lack of awareness about the importance and value of cultural-heritage resources for the Palestinian national economy and identity are the three main factors contributing to antiquities hunting in the OPNT.

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The majority of the tomb raiders consider the vandalizing of archaeological sites and features to be an unprofitable activity, fully aware that they receive only a small fraction of the final retail value of the hunted objects, while the middlemen and dealers retain the lion’s share of the profits. Despite this, they continue digging in order to provide for their families, spurred on by the seemingly insatiable market demand for antiquities. Any solutions aimed at stemming the practice of tomb raiding to any significant degree must focus on four main goals: 1.  Changing the general attitude of Palestinians toward cultural-heritage resources (cf. Yahya 2008: 42). This can be achieved by raising public awareness within Palestinian communities of the scientific and socioeconomic value of the heritage sites and objects brought to light archaeologically. To this end, the stakeholders (including the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, the Ministry of Awqaf and Religious Affairs, NGOs related to cultural heritage, the academic staff of archaeology departments, politicians, intellectuals, and lawyers) should employ all available means, such as workshops, the media, legal opinions (fatawi), school curricula, and conferences (cf. al-Houdalieh 2009: 349). 2.  Developing legislation. The current antiquities law (Temporary Law no. 51 on Antiquities of Jordan, 1966), which is still in force in the OPNT, must be expanded and updated to provide more adequate protection for archaeological sites and features and to impose effective measures for curbing antiquities hunting. This new legislation must include realistic and enforceable articles regarding graves and human skeletal remains (cf. alHoudalieh 2006: 112). 3.  Improved oversight. The archaeological sites in Areas A and B of the West Bank have been under Palestinian control since the signing of Oslo Accord I (1993), while those in the Gaza Strip came under Palestinian control with Israel’s 2005 withdrawal; sites located in Area C of the West Bank (and in East Jerusalem) remain under Israeli control. To improve oversight of the archaeological resources in Areas A and B, the Palestinian National Authority should at least triple the annual budget of the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities to enable that agency to expand and develop its human resources to adequate levels. Meanwhile, the Israelis should take all necessary measures to protect the heritage resources located in Area C. 4.  Reorganizing the Palestinian archaeological community into one unified, professional body and engaging as many members as possible in the protection and promotion of cultural-heritage resources. In 1994, Palestinian archaeologists succeeded in establishing the Palestinian Archaeology Association; however, this association proved ineffective due to internal disputes, because its membership never exceeded 30 persons, and, indeed, it more or less ceased to function several years ago. At the present time, Palestinian archaeology graduates are not organized, and most have never been invited to even a local annual meeting. In short, they lack even a minimal level of professional coordination and discourse. Thus, I recommend reviving the Archaeology Association or establishing a new association with a well-developed agenda, in order to include all Palestinian archaeology graduates and to serve as the recognized forum for dialogue with respect to cultural-heritage issues.

The total number of Palestinian archaeology graduates, as of October 2009, is 541, with approximately 88% of them working in fields unrelated to their discipline or lacking a permanent job. In light of this, I recommend engaging all well-qualified archaeology

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graduates to work in the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, heritage-related NGOs, and schools and municipalities to help fulfill the responsibilities of cultural-heritage protection (cf. al-Houdalieh 2009: 42–43, 50).

Conclusions This study demonstrates that an ethnographic study of actual tomb raiders carried out in conjunction with a field survey of vandalized tombs can be of great importance to the researcher, to the audience of archaeological issues, and to the larger society. Conducting interviews with the local people, especially the “professional” tomb raiders themselves provides the researcher with significant detailed information, including the exact location of the vandalized tombs and their looting history; archaeological features that were found but then reburied, reused, or demolished; the types and descriptions of the extracted archaeological objects; the estimated number of objects removed from each tomb; and finally, the motivating forces behind antiquities hunting among the Palestinians—or the people of any other place where the same phenomenon occurs. The ancient burial caves located in western Ramallah Province are suffering from looting and severe destruction at the hands of the Palestinians themselves, and an increasing number of burial places will be looted in the near future unless the relevant governmental institutions and civil organizations, among others, take more seriously their responsibilities to stem the spread of this activity. The driving forces behind the looting of tombs are numerous: the depressed economic state of Palestinian society; inadequate law enforcement in the OPNT; the Israeli antiquities law of 1978 that allows for a licensed, “legal” antiquities trade; and a lack of awareness among the majority of the Palestinians about the importance of heritage resources to their national identity. The majority of the informants for this study (i.e., the looters), based on their own experience, stated clearly that the plundering of ancient tombs is not a profitable activity and that in the end it does not justify the time and effort invested. In addition, there are the very real risks assumed in illegal digging. Thus, to the individuals still engaged in vandalizing ancient tombs in search of valuable objects and to those who may consider doing so in the future, the message is clear: “experience is the best proof.” More importantly, the whole of Palestinian society must safeguard our land’s rich and varied heritage resources in order to bequeath them intact to future generations.

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Bibliography Ainsworth, A. 2008 Are Cypriot Coins Worth Saving? The Battle over Import Restrictions on Coins. http://programs​ .columbian.gwu.edu/museumstudies/sites/default/files/u9/AreCypriotCoinsWorthSaving.pdf. Baum, I. 2006 The Great Mail of China: Should the United States Restrict Importation of Chinese Cultural Property? Cardozo Arts and Environment 24: 919–52. Bard, K. 2007 Introduction to the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt. Oxford: Blackwell. Blair, P. 2005 Fact Sheet: The Non-Protection of Canadian Aboriginal Heritage (Burial Sites and Artifact). http://www.scowinstitute.ca/library/documents/HeritageSitesFacts.pdf. Bowman, B. 2008 Transnational Crimes against Culture: Looting at Archaeological Sites and the “Grey” Market in Antiquities. Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 24: 225–42. Brodie, N.; Doole, J., and Watson, P. 2000 Stealing History: The Illicit Trade in Cultural Material. Cambridge: McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research. Demosthenous, R. 2000 The Occupied Churches of Cyprus. Nicosia: Byzantine Academy of Cyprus Typography. Hailaire, R. 2007 International Antiquities Trafficking: Theft by Another Name. Protecting Archaeological Sites Abroad by Prosecuting Receivers, Sellers, and Smugglers of Looted Antiquities under United States Domestic Law. Pp. 199–205 in Strategies for Saving Our Cultural Heritage: Papers Presented at the International Conference on Strategies for Saving Indoor Metallic Collections with Satellite Meeting on Legal Issues in the Conservation of Cultural Heritage, Cairo, 25th February–1st March 2007, ed. V. Argyropoulos, A. Hein, and M. Abdel-Harith. Athens: Technological Educational Institute. Houdalieh, S. al2006 The Destruction of Palestinian Archaeological Heritage: Saffa Village as a Model. Near Eastern Archaeology 69: 102–12. 2009 Political Crisis and Palestine’s Cultural Heritage: A Case Study from the Khirbet el-Lauz in Area C. Journal of Field Archaeology 34: 338–50. 2010 Archaeological Heritage and Related Institutions in the Palestinian National Territories: Sixteen Years after Signing the Oslo Accords. Present Pasts 2: 31–53. Houdalieh, S. al-, and Sauders, R. 2009 Building Destruction: The Consequences of Rising Urbanization on Cultural Heritage in the Ramallah Province. International Cultural Property Society 16: 1–25. Joffe, A. 2011 Egypt’s Antiquities Caught in the Revolution. Middle East Quarterly, Spring: 73–78. Kendall, T. 1981 An Unusual Rock-Cut Tomb at Giza. Pp. 104–14 in Studies in Ancient Egypt, the Aegean, and the Sudan: Essays in Honor of Dows Dunham on the Occasion of His 90th Birthday, June 1, 1980, ed. William Simpson and Whitney Davis. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts. Kersel, M. 2006 License to Sell: The Legal Trade of Antiquities in Israel. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Cambridge. Kersel, M.; Luke, C.; and Roosevelt, C. 2008 Valuing the Past: Perception of Archaeological Practice in Lydia and the Levant. Journal of Social Archaeology 8: 298–319. Lamberg-Karlovsky, C. 2002 Archaeology and Language: The Indo-Iranians. Current Anthropology 43: 63–88.

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Le Bailly, M.; Lepetz, S.; Samashev, Z.; Francfort, H.-P.; and Bouchet, F. 2008 Palaeoparasitological Study of Gastro-Intestinal Content in Horses at a Scythian Kurgan (3rd Century b.c.) Found in Kazakhstan. Anthropozoologica 43: 69–75. Nayrouz, I. 2004 Ramallah: Geography, History and Civilization. Ramallah: Dar al-Shorook. [Arabic] Patron, R. 2008 The Looting of Iraqi Archaeological Sites: Global Implications and Support for an International Approach to Regulating the Antiquities Market. The George Washington International Law Review 40: 465–96. Sarris, A.; Dunn, R.; Rife, J.; Papadopoulos, N.; Kokkino, E.; and Mundigler, C. 2007 Geological and Geophysical Investigations in the Roman Cemetery at Kenchreai (Korinthia), Greece. Archaeological Prospection 14: 1–23. Stander, H. 2009 Theft and Robbery in Chrysostom’s Time. Acta Theologica 29: 74–85. Texas Historical Commission 1982 Preserving Historic Cemeteries. http://www.thc.state.tx.us/publications/guidelines/Preservecem​ .pdf. Wilkinston, R. 2009 The Tausert Temple Project: 2009 Season. The Ostracon: The Journal of the Egyptian Study Society 20: 3–13. Yahya, A. 2008 Looting and ‘Salvaging’: How the Wall, Illegal Digging and the Antiquities Trade Are Ravaging Palestinian Cultural Heritage. Jerusalem Quarterly 33: 39–55.

Lambs to the Slaughter: Late Iron Age Cultic Orientations at Philistine Ekron Edward F. Maher North Central College

When any of you brings an offering to the Lord, bring as your offering an animal from either the herd or the flock. —Lev 1:2

Introduction Though the Philistines were a relatively literate society (Millard 1985: 307), they never produced a national epic to serve as a historical source (Singer 1994: 283). Egyptian texts provide some details regarding early Philistine history in Canaan, and Neo-Assyrian archives shed light on the later days of Philistia. Written from an etic perspective, these documents largely deal with campaigns, conquest lists, and payments of tribute and taxes. These accounts were unconcerned with the essence of Philistine society or the social mechanisms employed to maintain their cultural core in response to turbulent and uncertain times. Given this literary deficit, the archaeological record becomes a significant source of information on which scholars must rely for understanding the nature of Philistine culture. Excavations throughout Philistia have resulted in an impressive array of noteworthy discoveries, and the study of the material culture of the Philistines has greatly enhanced our understanding of their social history and society. Investigations have centered on a number of themes that include event chronology, stratigraphic sequences, ceramic analysis, subsistence, monumental architecture, industrial and economic endeavors, interaction with neighboring groups, settlement patterns, language, cult, historical trajectories, and processes of acculturation. 1 The picture developed from this Author’s note: This essay is presented in honor of Seymour Gitin, who has been a supportive and inf luential figure in every stage of my career. I thank Sy and Trude Dothan of Hebrew University for permission to study the 7th-century b.c.e. faunal remains from Temple Complex 650. I am grateful to the Albright Institute for the George A. Barton Fellowship that supported this research. I acknowledge those at the National Natural History Collections, Institute of Archaeology at The Hebrew Univ. for allowing me access to their superb comparative faunal collections and laboratory equipment. 1.  E.g., Ben-Shlomo and Dothan 2006; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2004; Ben-Shlomo 2006; 2008; Berland 2008; Brug 1985; Dothan 1982; 1987; 1995; 1998; 2003a–b; Dothan and Ben-Shlomo

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Fig. 1.  Ekron Temple Complex 650, Strata IB–IC, 7th century b.c.e. Plan drawing by J. Rosenberg.

research broadens our scope of insight and demonstrates the rich diversity and multidimensionality of Philistine culture. One aspect of Philistine society evident from the material remains is its involvement in cultic activity. Its diverse expression, cultic orientation, and importance to the citizens of Ekron were central, underlying elements in many aspects of daily routine. In the late 7th century b.c.e. (Iron Age IIC), Temple Complex 650 was a center of religious life at Ekron, and the focus for resident worshipers and attendees. Complementing this monumental architecture was a dedicatory inscription. In the adjacent temple auxiliary buildings, a four-horned altar, brief dedicatory inscriptions, chalices, and numerous other objects were also found. In addition to these cultic expressions, thousands of animal bones were found in association with Temple Complex 650. Along with the other material manifestations of the Philistine cult, this essay addresses the attributes of the faunal assemblage from the temple complex that are linked to sacred animal use. Focusing on the sacrificial faunal remains—a type of faunal assemblage that I suggest may be termed sacrifauna— 2005; 2007; Dothan and Dothan 1992; Dothan and Zuckerman 2004; Garfinkel 2007; Gilboa et al. 2006; Gitin 1985; 1987; 1989a–b; 1993; 1995; 1997; 1998a–b; 1999; 2002; 2003a–b; Gitin and Cogan 1999; Gitin et al. 1997; Gitin and Golani 2001; Gunneweg et al. 1986; Hesse 1986; James 2005; Maeir 2004a–b; 2006; Maeir and Uziel 2007; Mazar 1985; Naveh 1958; 1998; Porten 1981; Schäfer-Lichtenberger 2000; Shai 2006; Shamir 2007; Singer 1994; Stager 1991; 1995; 2006; 2007; Stern 2006; Stone 1995; Tadmor 1966; Yasur-Landau 2005).

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is significant because these remains corroborate other evidence for cultic orientations at the site (e.g., Gitin 1993; 2002). At the core of the investigation is the integrative advantage gained by merging zooarchaeological analysis with other archaeological investigations to expand our understanding of Ekron’s cultic expression manifest in the 7th century b.c.e. The possible motivations driving Ekron’s citizenry to develop and participate actively in cultic ceremonies are also explored.

Cultic Expression at Ekron A range of objects and materials were used in the cult or have cultic associations at Ekron. Many of these elements were adapted from foreign cultures, a fact that demonstrates the permeability of the Philistine cult to external inf luences. The evidence relating to cultic involvement is addressed through temple architecture, dedicatory inscriptions, small cult objects, and four-horned altars. Temple Architecture Temple Complex 650 has been discussed in detail elsewhere (e.g., Gitin et al. 1997; Gitin and Cogan 1999; Gitin 2003a). Situated in the elite zone of the city, it is one of the largest buildings ever discovered in Israel or Jordan (fig. 1). A four-meterwide threshold serves as the main entrance leading directly into the courtyard. The temple (sanctuary) has an architectural plan based on a design concept associated with Neo-Assyrian royal palaces, elite residences, and temples. Temple Complex 650 has three main elements: a courtyard formed by the adjoining rooms to its east and south, a throne room or reception hall that buffered the east and west wings, and a rectangular pillared sanctuary consisting of two parallel rows of round column bases. Entry to the pillared sanctuary was achieved through a monumental stepped threshold that was f lanked by two stone vats that may have been used ritually to purify those about to enter. Incorporating round column bases and pillars into architectural schemes is unique to Ekron and is an unknown architectural element during the Iron Age in Israel (Gitin 2002: 115). Ekron Royal Dedicatory Inscription A royal dedicatory inscription was found in the pillared sanctuary of Temple Complex 650 in a secure stratigraphic position associated with architectural features and a datable ceramic assemblage (Gitin et al. 1997). The inscription, which is complete, identifies Tel Miqne as the city of Ekron, thereby confirming Naveh’s (1958: 166) identification of Khirbet al-Muqannaʿ as Ekron of the Philistines. The inscription also designates the area in which it was found as a temple built to honor a goddess of non-Semitic origin, whose name, ptgyh, may have been inspired by a Greek-Mycenean deity (Schäfer-Lichtenberger 2000: 84). The deity must have been sufficiently powerful, since according to the inscription, she was charged to protect the builder of the temple and his land (Gitin et al. 1997: 9).

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Dedicatory Inscriptions Six dedicatory inscriptions were found on store-jars in the temple auxiliary building in the elite zone immediately to the south of Temple Complex 650. Their affiliation with the Ekron cult is demonstrated through such phrases as “to/for Asherat,” “dedicated/sanctified to/for Asherat,” and “for the shrine/sanctuary.” Here is an example of the Philistine adoption of a foreign deity, since Asherah is known from the Canaanite tradition. The script demonstrates elements characteristic of early Hebrew and Phoenician (Gitin 1993: 250–54). A dedicatory inscription found in Room p of the sanctuary (fig. 1) and written on a sherd from a store-jar reads, “for Baʿal and for Padi.” This is the first reference to a male deity (Baʿal) found at Ekron. It is also the first time a West Semitic inscription unites the name of a god and a king in this type of formula. The implication of the inscription, mainly to revere a deity and ruler, is a distinctly Neo-Assyrian sentiment, as it emphasizes the conduct expected of Assyrian citizens (Gitin and Cogan 1999). Another inscription that reads lmkm, which in Phoenician and sometimes in Biblical Hebrew means ‘for the shrine’, implies the existence of a sanctuary or temple at Ekron to which offerings would be routed (Gitin 2003a: 289). Small Cult Objects Many Egyptian items from the 7th century b.c.e. likely date to after 630 b.c.e., when Assyria was forced to leave Philistia to address problems on its own borders. This power vacuum was quickly filled by Egypt (Malamat 1979: 205; Porten 1981: 48), whose inf luence was then made manifest in many of the cultic items at Ekron (Gitin et al. 1997: 7–8). Temple Complex 650 contained such Egyptian artifacts as an ivory cylinder seal depicting a Horus insignia (Room v), a gold cobra (uraeus) that was probably used as part of a headdress of a statuette (Room q), and an amulet of Ptah-patecus, the Egyptian god of craftsmen (Room y). Other Egyptian finds include a chalk plaster “wig” (Room k) and a large ivory elephant tusk carved into an anthropomorphic figure with the cartouche of Merneptah (Room i). The remains of what may be a large harp were also found: it is reminiscent of a style depicted on temple reliefs in Egypt (Gitin and Cogan 1999: 196). A Phoenician-type female figurine discovered in the pillared sanctuary further demonstrates the extent to which the Philistines incorporated foreign cultural elements into their body of worship (Gitin 2003a: 287). Two different styles of chalice are known from Ekron (Gitin 1993: 253–54). One type, discovered in the olive oil industrial area and elite zone, is painted with a triangular design and may be an imitation of cult stands with triangular-shaped cutouts known from other sites and periods. The other chalice form, with a petal or leaf decoration, is primarily associated with the elite zone. It may be that this chalice’s long stem represents a tree trunk, and its petals signify leaves. Together, these attributes may represent the sacred tree symbolic of Asherah; thus, the petal chalice may be connected to cultic ceremonies that evoked this deity.

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Fig. 2.  Forelimb (ulna) of a lion, Panthera leo, associated with Ekron Temple Complex 650. Photo by Z. Radovan.

Four-Horned Altars A total of 19 stone incense altars were found at Ekron; 17 of them with “horns” (raised corners; Gitin 2002: 103, 108) may have represented a central fixture in Ekron’s cultic orientations (Gitin 1989a: 61). Their function as incense burners is based on textual and artifactual evidence (Gitin 2002: 96–103). Their contextual range (fortification, industrial, domestic, and elite zones) indicates that incense burning was popular and accessible to all members of the city (Gitin 1989a: 59–60). Their varied sizes, shapes, and designs also illustrate a certain amount of f lexibility in their use (Gitin 1993: 250). The abundance of the Ekron altars, especially the large number discovered in the industrial area, demonstrates the relationship between altar function and the city’s thriving olive oil industry. Altars may also have held an administrative role relating to Ekron’s industrial activity that was maintained by a local priestly class (Gitin 1989a: 60). Animal Sacrifice The animal bones associated with Temple Complex 650 represent the remains of sacrificial animal victims linked to the rituals performed during temple proceedings. This assumption follows Bökönyi’s (1989: 399) stance that faunal material from sacred areas clearly indicate animal sacrificial remains. A total of 7,358 animal bones were found, of which 2,540 (34.5%) were identified. The majority of the remains belong to meat-producing domesticated species. In fact, sheep (Ovis aries), goats (Capra hircus), and cattle (Bos taurus) represent over 95% of the domestic stock in the temple complex. Sheep and goats dominate the assemblage, probably because they were the

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most commonly raised and readily available animals. However, customs driving ancient Ekron’s ritual use of animals included species other than common domesticates. Exotic remains from secure contexts associated with Temple Complex 650 included the forelimb of a lion, Panthera leo (fig. 2). The lion bone is identified as the distal portion of an ulna. The fact that the ulna is not fused to its associated radius bone indicates the lion had died before it reached maturity. The canine tooth from a hippopotamus, Hippopotamus amphibious, was also found. A tusk from an elephant (Elephantidae) exhibited the carved design of an Egyptian goddess or princess (Gitin 1998a: 179). Including these animals in the temple precinct would probably have emphasized the special function of the ceremonies being performed, and a practice of this sort would demonstrate Coogan’s (1987: 2) concept of “exotic materials.” Lions would never have been incorporated into the local diet and must therefore be linked to associations charged with significant symbolic meaning. Including a lion in temple rituals concurs with the notion that they were efficient symbols for conveying images of power and authority. To Assyrian kings, lions embodied themes such as virility, uncontrolled chaos (Thomason 2001: 75), and ferocity during military campaigns (Watanabe 1998: 447). Lions were often employed in Assyrian records to project boldness and magnificence (Marcus 1977: 87). Perhaps the temple lion at Ekron represented the continuation of a similar tradition during Ekron’s time as a Neo-Assyrian vassal. A seventh-century b.c.e. silver hoard from Field I Upper at Tel Miqne–Ekron included a silver medallion depicting the goddess Ishtar standing on a lion with the moon, a sun disc, and the Pleiades constellation overhead (Gitin 1998a: 175); this association would imply a special relationship between divinity and beast (fig. 3). The Pleiades constellation also holds ritual significance through its association with divination (Bloch-Smith 2002: 89). Such linkages may explain why a lion was incorporated into sacred rituals. Lion bones rarely occur in archaeological sites in the region but are known from Iron Age deposits at Tel Dan (Wapnish and Hesse 1991: 47) and Jaffa (Kaplan 1972: 84). Hesse and Wapnish (1985a: 229) previously reported lion remains at Tel Miqne. The canine tooth from a large male hippopotamus was found in one of the side rooms (Room o) of the sanctuary (Maher 2005). Bored through its center, a cylindrical hole is oriented parallel to the long axis of the tooth. Opposing outer sides display a row of decorative circular incisions forming an intertwining rope pattern (fig. 4), reminiscent of motifs known from Assyrian ivory inlays at Nimrud. The burnt remains of a large, carved elephant tusk were found in the hall (Room i) at the entrance of the pillared sanctuary (fig. 5). The greatest length of the tusk is 38 cm with a maximum width of 9.7 cm and maximum depth of 6.8 cm. These exotic species probably never appeared alive in the temple, and their remains were originally obtained by the priestly order at Ekron as cult objects and used as temple paraphernalia. Brandl has suggested that the ivory objects in the temple were plundered by the Assyrians from Egyptian temples (Gitin 2003b: 60).

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Fig. 4 (above).  Canine tooth from a large male hippopotamus, from Room o of the Ekron Temple. Photo by Z. Radovan. Fig. 3 (left).  Silver medallion depicting the goddess Ishtar standing on a lion with the moon, sun disc, and the Pleiades constellation overhead from Field I Upper at Tel Miqne– Ekron. Photo by I. Sztulman.

The approximate ages of some of the animals at death, based on long-bone fusion rates (Silver 1969) and dental attrition scores (Payne 1973), demonstrate the importance of young sheep/goats in temple proceedings (Maher 2004). Evidence of calves and piglets was also found. A fragment of a fawn’s antler tine indicates that a ritual required a young deer. Interestingly, a sherd of an East Greek wine pitcher from Temple Complex 650 was decorated with the image of a juvenile deer (Waldbaum 2007). The bones of young individuals are not as robust as those of adults and are therefore more susceptible to postdepositional destruction, ultimately leading to their underrepresentation. Therefore, it is likely that even more young animals were used in the temple complex than are demonstrable zooarchaeologically. The meat of young animals is typically of superior quality compared with that of a mature individual; therefore, meat quality may have been an important consideration in using immature specimens. Young animal victims have also been reported in other Iron Age cultic contexts, such as Arad (Sadeh 1988), Tell Qiri (Davis 1987a: 250), Horbat Rosh Zayit (Horwitz 2000: 228), Tel Dan (Wapnish et al. 1977: 50, 54; Wapnish and Hesse 1991: 35), Timna (Lernau 1988: 252), and Horvat Qitmit (Horwitz and Raphael 1995: 292; Horwitz 1999: 65). Selecting animals of a particular sex may have been an important element in the sacrificial rituals. Some morphological features recognized among the sacrifauna from Temple Complex 650 suggest that males were chosen for ritual slaughter. The size, shape, and general robusticity of horn cores found in the temple complex demonstrate the use of male sheep and goats. The lower leg of a bird (tarsometatarsal spur) found in Room f illustrates the presence of a male Galliforme (e.g., quail, pheasant, peafowl, turkeys, and chickens) since males of these species possess leg spurs (Reitz and Wing

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1999). An antler fragment, consisting of a single tine from tip to base, indicates a young male deer in the temple complex, because only male cervids in this region grow antlers. A study of body parts that were discovered within Temple Complex 650 was limited to sheep, goats, and cattle since they were the most abundant species. Body-part distribution analysis often considers how the archaeological sample compares or contrasts with the abundance of bones as they occur in a living whole animal, because any deviation from the expected must be explained by natural or cultural agency. The bodypart distributions, which mainly considered ratios of non-meat-bearing to meat-bearing limb bones as well as slaughter to butchery refuse remains (Maher 2004; in press) indicate that the temple received whole and entire animal specimens (rather than bundles or parcels of meat) more often than any other contemporary area at Ekron. In addition, Room k inside the temple yielded Fig. 5.  Burnt remains of a large carved elephant tusk the articulated lower leg bones (tibia, found in the hall (Room i) at the entrance of the astragalus, and lateral malleolus) of a pillared sanctuary. Photo by D. Harris. sheep. Body-part articulations have also been reported in temples at Megiddo (Wapnish and Hesse 2000: 437–38) and Timna (Lernau 1988: 251). The proportion of front-to-back limbs from cultic sites is also important to consider since forelimbs from sheep, goats, and cattle yield more meat than hind limbs (Wapnish, Hesse, and Ogilvy 1977: 60). The body-part distribution in the temple complex area shows that forelimbs outnumber hind limbs by 1.6:1 for sheep/ goats and 1.5:1 for cattle. It appears that meat-bearing forelimbs were an important component of the ritual proceedings at Ekron. Other cultic sites that feature sheep and goat front limbs include Tel Qiri (Davis 1987b: 31) and Tel Dan (Wapnish and Hesse 1991).

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If the animals brought to Temple Complex 650 were whole and intact, as suggested by the body-part articulation and distribution, then it is likely that they were also alive at the time. This suggestion is supported by six sheep/goat axis (neck) bones from the temple complex that exhibit cut and chop marks in a similar orientation and anatomical location (fig. 6). The ventral surfaces on which these marks appear indicate cutting/chopping strokes directed toward the underside of the neck. Binford (1981: 110) reports that, in most cases, such marks are inf licted during secondary stages of butchery. However, since cut-marked axis bones from the 7th century b.c.e. are exclusively associated with Temple Complex 650, perhaps the Philistine priesthood adhered to prescribed ritual procedures relating to traditional and sanctified methods of immolation. Throat-slitting would produce a significant amount of blood that could have been manipulated in a number of ways. Blood is often associated with a principal element of life (Steinmueller 1959: 557) and was symbolic not only of the force of life but also of true value to worshipers (Niditch 1997: 101). Imbued with holiness, the Israelites sprinkled blood on their altars, on the body and garments of worshippers, and in front of the curtain of the sanctuary (Leviticus 1–8). It is possible that the Philistine’s held the sanctity of sacrificial blood in the same or similar regard that was expressed in various forms of blood manipulations. Contemporary with Temple Complex 650, a similar method of animal execution was documented from a sanctuary of Aphrodite at the site of Zeytin Tepe in Turkey (Peters 1993: 90). Other instances that hint of prescribed methods of animal sacrifice are also known from different periods. Mashkour (1997) reports that the camels from Mleiha (United Arab Emirates), dating between the 2nd century b.c.e. and the 2nd century c.e. may have had their throats slit. Two clay zoomorphic figurines from the Pre-Pottery Neolithic site of ʿAin Ghazal in Jordan (Rollefson 1986: 50) have f lint bladelets protruding from the ribs and head, while another bladelet that entered from the front of the chest may have also targeted the neck (see Rollefson 1986: 49, pl. 2:4). Rollefson interprets the animal figurines as having been “ritually killed.” A number of animal bones from the temple complex bore cut marks. To understand butchery intent and various procedures of carcass dismemberment, bone-specific cut-mark placement and orientation were recorded using Binford’s (1981) coding system that assesses the stage (dismemberment, filleting, or skinning) at which the marks were made. The initial phases of butchery (dismemberment) are the most common type of cut mark on the temple fauna. This suggests that the early stages of butchery were performed in the vicinity of the temple complex, which also agrees with the above interpretation that animals were delivered to the area whole and living. Filleting is regarded as a second-stage butchering activity centered on meat storage and distribution, thereby making meat readily available for consumption (Binford 1981: 127). Fillet marks were evident on the remains and would have facilitated the distribution of meat among those partaking in the ceremony. When an animal hide is intended for actual use or presentation rather than having been removed as a consequence of

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butchery, skinning procedures are recognizable. Some animal bones from the temple bore cut marks in areas where the skin is more firmly attached, indicating that careful extraction procedures were employed to ensure the acquisition of the hide intact. The trespass offering in Lev 7:8 indicates that Israelite priests kept the skin of the animal from the burnt offering. Since priests are closer to the sacred Fig. 6.  Sheep/goat axis (neck) bones from the world than anyone else in a given comtemple complex. Photo by Z. Radovan. munity, priestly observance of the offering was probably necessary, for priests were commonly regarded as guides due to their status as intermediaries between the earthly and cosmic planes (Hubert and Mauss 1964: 23). Legitimization and validation of the sacrifice could be secured only if the offering was presided over by an authorized officiant (Firth 1972: 326). Thus it is likely that the sacrifice was handled by the local priesthood. None of the sacrifaunal remains associated with Temple Complex 650 exhibited signs of trauma or pathology. Since diseased animals might have been considered a manifestation of unholy supernatural inf luences (Baker and Brothwell 1980: 189), offering a healthy, faultless specimen was necessary for those practicing ancient sacrificial rites (Smith 1901: 361). It follows that diseased animals may have been deemed unsuitable candidates for sacrifice. Given the number of young animals from the temple complex, one reason for their lack of pathological development may be that they died before they had contracted diseases or viruses. However, a number of diseases, such as parasites and bacteria, are confined to juveniles, whereas adults seem immune to their debilitating effects (Baker and Brothwell 1980: 27). The fact that none of the remains of immature animals was pathologically altered suggests that their sacrificial candidacy was carefully considered. However, it should be noted that, while some infectious agents can modify an animal’s skeleton, there are many diseases that cannot be detected via skeletal analysis (Baker and Brothwell 1980: 12) and aff lictions that in certain stages are undetectable (Hesse and Wapnish 1985b: 82). Although this may be a suggestive line of inquiry, relying on the presence or absence of pathologically altered faunal remains to assess the health of sacrificial animal victims is a limited methodological approach, and any associated suggestions need to be regarded as tentative. The faunal assemblage from Temple Complex 650 yielded 660 burnt animal bones and teeth that were scattered within the building and in a few external areas. Based on the spatial distribution of the fauna and the color of the burnt remains, the evidence suggests that burning was related to temple functions rather than Ekron’s conf lagration.

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If the number of burnt remains was a function of sample size, certain spatial units within the temple complex (rooms f, g2, and k, as well as exterior areas) that yielded considerable amounts of fauna should have produced the greatest quantity of charred remains. Yet in some instances, smaller rooms with fewer bones resulted in the highest proportion of burnt bones. Most of the burnt animal remains come from the eastern and central spatial units of the temple, because only 18.5% (n = 122) of the burnt bones were found in the western wing. Additionally, very few bones located outside the temple were burned, which is unexpected given the substantial bone count (n = 1,698) from those areas. All this evidence suggests activity-specific areas in the temple complex. Furthermore, it has been demonstrated experimentally (Nicholson 1993; Shipman et al. 1984) that the color of burnt bones can indicate approximate firing temperatures; brown and black bones indicate relatively cooler temperatures compared with gray and white bones from hotter combustive events. Most of the burnt remains in the temple to which a definite color could be assigned were from the brown/black group (n = 357, 69%) which indicates meal-related preparations associated with temple function rather than city-wide destruction, in which hotter temperatures should be more evident from huge uncontrolled fires. The spatial arrangement of the burnt remains and their coloration seem to represent activity-specific areas associated with temple operations rather than Ekron’s destruction in 604 b.c.e., for which evidence is seen throughout most of Temple Complex 650 (Gitin et al. 1997: 8). Animal remains were not strewn only over surfaces and throughout destructiondebris layers of Temple Complex 650. Excavation areas from the western half of the temple complex uncovered over 40 whole or restorable ceramic vessels (mainly bowls) that were specifically associated with animal bones and were sometimes found with bones within the vessel. The association of bowls with bones is concentrated in Rooms l (southern section of rectangular throne room), o, q, u (pillared sanctuary), and w (storage area; room functions based on Gitin 2003a: 284). A lack of even distribution throughout the temple complex suggests some spatially distinct aspect to their placement. The bones in and near these bowls were both burned and unburned. If the remains were burned as a consequence of Ekron’s conf lagration, they should all have been burned; that they were not further suggests that portions of the animal sacrifices were ceremonially presented as cooked morsels or even as burnt offerings. Another implication of the spatial association between the burned and unburned remains is that these bones probably originated from different areas of the temple complex and were collected in the bowls. Similar conclusions have been reached for faunal assemblages from Tel Dan (Wapnish and Hesse 2000: 444) and Qumran (Zeuner 1960: 29). As a holy offering, the remains of the sacrificial animal victim may have been subject to strictly prescribed methods of discard at the ceremony’s conclusion. These remains were probably not simply destroyed or even randomly thrown out; rather, they were treated with reverence and disposed of in specific ways by the local religious order (Hubert and Mauss 1964: 35, 41). As a result, they were possibly accompanied by their

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own set of ritual observances. Perhaps the Philistine priesthood also had a disposal ceremony for the removal of what remained of the sacrificial animal offering.

Philistine Cult in Social Context The actual sacrifice of the animal was undoubtedly an important element of the ceremony, but it was not the only one. The sacrificial rite occurred on holy ground, before a deity (or multiple deities), and in the midst of other community members. The presence of young animals, high occurrences of meat-rich, front-limb bones, and evidence for filleting suggest the importance of meat and its distribution for consumption in a public setting, possibly as a component of a communal feast. Hayden (2001: 28) defines feasting as “any sharing between two or more people of special foods in a meal for a special purpose or occasion.” Since food consumption is intrinsically social, it can provide a medium by which social relations are defined and maintained (Gummerman 1997: 106). By their very nature, meals restrict the movements and attentions of the participants, and emphasis is placed on the importance of the gathering (Douglas 1971: 66), thus charging the food, occasion, time, and space with symbolic significance (Gummerman 1997: 119). The willing submission of a privately owned commodity (the animal) to a deity, of which a part would contribute to a sacred communal meal that followed would emphasize sentiments expressing friendship, kinship, and group solidarity (Dietler 2001: 69; Nakhai 2001: 25). Since devotees partaking in a feast are drawn closer to the subject of their veneration (Bodenhiemer 1960: 212; Smith 1901: 224–25; de Vaux 1997: 448), sacred meals strengthen the covenant between god and worshiper (Ottosson 1987: 136). This particular aspect of the ritual exemplifies the unifying societal and spiritual inf luence of sacrificial systems in which communal meals were a component. It is clear that sacred ceremonies and communal meals function to bind participants closer. However, to what advantage did these social mechanisms serve Ekron’s citizenry in the 7th century b.c.e.? Nahkai (2001: 29) suggests that sacrificial meals promote the retention of a community’s national identity in the face of a threatened loss of nationhood. Although the Philistines at Ekron were allowed a certain degree of freedom, their complete political autonomy was compromised by their vassalage to the Neo-Assyrians and then later by the inf luence of the Egyptians. The actual or perceived ever-presence of an overlord may have strained and disrupted the social fabric of the population of Ekron, prompting the Philistine’s need for social functions designed to draw community members together in a manner that emphasized social solidarity, shared history, common ancestry, group affiliation, and identity. One way this notion is exemplified is through the name of the deity (ptgyh) mentioned in the Ekron Royal Dedicatory Inscription. Schäfer-Lichtenberger (2000: 91) associated ptgyh of Ekron with a Greek-Mycenaean goddess and conjectured that the rekindled memory of a deity who accompanied the Philistines on their successful journey from their Aegean

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homeland to the inner coastal plain of the southern Levant hundreds of years earlier would contribute to group cohesion. Another name from the Ekron Royal Dedicatory Inscription (Ikausu) is also pertinent to the discussion. Except for this name, all personal names on the king list from the Ekron inscription demonstrate a West Semitic origin (Naveh 1998). Since the name Ikausu may be an authentic Philistine name (Tadmor 1966: 98) meaning “Greek” (Gitin et al. 1997: 11), its appearance in the inscription may illustrate a national reawakening in late Iron Age Philistia (Naveh 1998: 36). There would have been an inf lux of thousands of laborers from neighboring foreign groups required to operate and maintain the factories that drove the economic prosperity of Ekron (Gitin 1989a: 61). This is suggested by the presence of the fourhorned altars. Unknown in Judah and only found elsewhere in Philistia at Ashkelon in the 7th century b.c.e. (Gitin 2002: 103, Stager 1996), the altars must have come from Israel in the north. If so, Israelite craftsmen could have introduced four-horned altar use at Ekron (Gitin 1989a: 61). The impact and inf luence of continual contact with members of a different cultural group, potentially leading to ideological infiltration may represent another reason why the citizens of Ekron attempted to hold fast to the core aspects of their culture. A third reason why maintaining group cohesion was particularly important at Ekron relates to the geographical location of the city. Ekron was positioned in a frontier zone between the Philistine coastal plain and the Judean hill country (e.g., Gitin 1989b: 24; 1992: 27; 1995: 62; Gitin et al. 1997: 1). Since frontier zones tend to lack many social mechanisms designed to prevent violent conf lict, they are usually less peaceful areas. Frontier settlements are most vulnerable to raiding and are therefore the first to experience aggressive advances (Keeley 1996: 131). The potential for conf lict between Ekron and Judah certainly existed, because the success of Philistia, and Ekron in particular, came at Judah’s expense. In 701 b.c.e., Sennacherib laid waste to Judean cities, fortresses, and villages. While driving out over 200,000 people, he also reduced the size of the Judean territories (accompanied by increased tribute demands), which were then handed to Philistine kings at Ashdod, Gaza, and Ekron (Oppenheim 1973: 200). Threatened by Ekron’s expansion and prosperity through large-scale industrial development and production, envious Judah would have been hostile toward Philistine interests (Gitin 1998b: 279). Therefore, the need for Ekron’s citizens to maintain their social integrative networks would have been particularly important in a frontier environment as a coping mechanism that dealt with the ever-present potential for a Judean offensive.

Implications and Conclusions Seymour Gitin uncovered considerable evidence for Philistine involvement in cultic practices from the 7th century b.c.e. at Ekron. Though there were many hints of the function of Temple Complex 650 based on its monumentality and special finds

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from the various rooms, the temple (or sanctuary), which was the most significant feature of this complex, was positively identified as such in the Ekron Royal Dedicatory Inscription. Other inscriptions of a dedicatory nature written on pottery sherds from the temple’s auxiliary buildings also indicate tithing and a priestly order. In addition, cult objects found throughout Ekron include ivory artifacts, chalices, figurines, amulets, a gold uraeus, musical instruments, and four-horned incense altars. The sacrifaunal assemblage associated with Temple Complex 650 offers another dimension for identifying Philistine cultic practice through rites that involved animal offerings. Over 7,000 bones were discovered in and around the temple complex, most of which were common domestic species such as sheep, goats, and cattle. The remains of exotic species that included a lion, hippopotamus, and an elephant are also associated with the temple complex, but it is doubtful that they were ever introduced as living specimens. Rather, their remains would have emphasized the distinct symbolic significance of the temple ceremony. The rest of the assemblage included many young (and possibly disease-free) animals, some of which were male, which mainly arrived at the temple complex as whole and presumably living specimens. They were sacrificed in a prescribed manner by having their throats slit, and then at least a portion of the animal was presented to the deity as a burnt offering, while the rest was cooked. Meat seems to have been an important component of the ritual, given the occurrence of meaty forelimb portions of market-aged sheep, goats, and cattle. Filleting cut marks indicate meat distribution, and the meat may have been served to those gathered for a communal feast. Skinning marks indicate that animal hides were taken and could have been submitted to the priesthood who officiated at the ceremony. Temple officials may also have been responsible for rituals pertaining to disposal rites of the sacred animal remains, since many ceramic bowls contained or were in close association with the sacrifaunal remains. Ekron’s population would have been motivated to develop and participate in these cultic ceremonies and rituals promoting the essence and character of their cultural core through social mechanisms that activated social solidarity and cohesion. Their efforts would have arisen in response to Ekron’s status as a Neo-Assyrian vassal, the ethnic diversity of those living and working in the commercial sectors in Ekron, and the geographical position Ekron held on Philistia’s border in a frontier zone near Judah.

Bibliography Baker, J., and Brothwell, D. 1980 Animal Diseases in Archaeology. London: Academic Press. Ben-Shlomo, D., and Dothan, T. 2006 Ivories from Philistia: Filling the Iron Age I Gap. Israel Exploration Journal 56: 1–38. 2008 Zoomorphic Vessels from Tel Miqne–Ekron and the Different Styles of Philistine Pottery. Israel Exploration Journal 58: 24–47.

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Competing Material Culture: Philistine Settlement at Tel Miqne–Ekron in the Early Iron Age Laura B. Mazow East Carolina University

Introduction Research on the Philistines has been the subject of numerous publications, a trend that will surely continue with the recent publications of Ashdod VI (M. Dothan and Ben-Shlomo 2005), Ashkelon I (Stager, Schloen, and Master 2009), and the multipart volumes on Tel Miqne–Ekron Field IV Lower (Gitin, Dothan, and Garfinkel forthcoming). While many of the same questions that were posed with the first discovery of Philistine pottery at a biblical site are still being addressed today (Yasur-Landau 2010: 2–7), more methodologically sophisticated and nuanced approaches are being brought to bear on the questions of the origins of the Philistines and their settlement history on the coast of the southern Levant. New theoretical approaches have studied the process of Philistine migration within larger historical frameworks (e.g., Killebrew 2005; 2008; Yasur-Landau 2010). In addition, the Philistine material culture has been analysed as ref lections of behavioral patterns (see, e.g., Yasur-Landau 2010; Maeir 2008), such as active expressions of ethnicity and identity construction (e.g., Bunimovitz and Faust 2001; Faust and Lev-Tov 2011; Uziel 2007), and within the social contexts that foment or inhibit cultural transmission processes (e.g., Yasur-Landau 2005; 2009; 2010; Uziel 2007; Zukerman et al. 2007). All told, these studies have enhanced our understanding Author’s note: This essay is the revised version of a paper presented at the 2004 American Schools of Oriental Research Annual Meeting, for which I received the Sean W. Dever Memorial Prize. As a student of Bill Dever and a friend of Norma Dever, I appreciate receiving this prize more than can possibly be expressed in words. I thank them both for their support and encouragement over these past many years. The research presented herein is based on data collected for my dissertation (University of Arizona, 2005). The original paper was written while I was in residence at the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, Jerusalem. I am very pleased to have the opportunity to publish this paper in this volume in honor of Sy.

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of these issues but have not completely resolved the questions of either Philistine origins (Yasur-Landau 2010) or dénouement (e.g., Faust and Lev-Tov 2011). These recent studies, however, have resulted in an increasing awareness of the complexity of the issues affecting the archaeologist’s ability to assign ethnic or cultural labels to a material culture assemblage. In the case of the Philistines, this is primarily due to two factors: (1) the admixture of cultural components already present within the material culture associated with the initial Philistine occupation, including the amount of indigenous Canaanite cultural elements, the lack of homogeneity within the locally produced Aegean-style assemblage, and the intra-Pentapolis differences (e.g., Ben-Shlomo 2006; 2008a; Yasur-Landau 2010); and (2) the long-term development of the Philistine material culture, which ref lects a dual process of acculturation and continuing ethnic self-identity resulting in the retention of some aspects of the original culture and the loss or modification of other features (e.g., Gitin 2000; Yasur-Landau 2008; Zukerman et al. 2007; Maeir and Shai 2006; Faust and Lev-Tov 2011). Further complicating the matter is the recognition of the multidirectionality of cultural inf luences, whether through the discovery of continued cross-Mediterranean contacts (Dothan and Zukerman 2004; Ben-Shlomo 2011) or the long-term effects of local, Levantine interregional trade, conf lict, competition, and adaptation (BenShlomo et al. 2008; Faust and Lev-Tov 2011; Maeir 2008; Shai 2009; Uziel 2007; Yasur-Landau 2005). Studies of the Philistine phenomenon have concentrated on describing a set of cultural traits that appear together in the southern Levant at the beginning of the Iron Age but the inspiration for which could be traced to the Aegean world or to Cyprus and Cilicia. 1 From this type-list approach, a profile of “Philistine” culture was generated. The culture was defined by characteristic pottery shapes and decorative styles, architectural features such as sherd-paved hearths and limestone bathtubs, and domestic activities evidenced by foreign-style cooking wares and loom weights. 2 These attributes have been interpreted as ref lecting technologies and enculturative behaviors that the Philistine immigrants brought with them and continued to reproduce in their new settlements (Killebrew 1998a; 2005). More-recent studies, while aiming to fit additional artifact types and behaviors into this original ethnic framework, have recognized the difficulty in defining “Philistine” culture, noting evidence for multidirectional inf luences throughout the Mediterranean region, a heterogeneous migrating population, and a long-term migration process (e.g., Ben-Shlomo 2011; Maeir 2008; Maeir and Shai 2006; Yasur-Landau 2010). Any attempt to define an original Philistine ethos from its ref lection in material culture must address the issue of the Canaanite pottery and local inf luence seen even in the earliest phases of occupation at the Philistine Pentapolis sites. A few early studies 1.  See Yasur-Landau 2010: 1–7 for a good historical overview of Philistine studies. 2.  See Killebrew 2005 and Yasur-Landau 2010 for recent reviews of the evidence.

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commented on the clear Canaanite elements within the embryonic Philistine material culture (e.g., Bunimovitz 1990; Sharon 2001), and recent approaches have again attempted to grapple with this issue. One example is Maeir’s (2004; 2008: 351; see also Ben-Shlomo et al. 2004: 20) “creolization” model, which suggests that the “hybrid,” “syncretistic nature,” and “ ‘melting pot’ character” of the “Philistine habitus” ref lects an original heterogeneous population that included both foreign and local peoples within the initial settlements. Another example is Uziel (2007; see also Shai 2009), who argues that from the beginning there was a bidirectionality of cultural inf luences that, at an intrasite level, created a cultural fusion. A final example is Yasur-Landau (2010: 288), who proposes that the presence of both Aegean and Canaanite domestic behaviors in the earliest phases of settlement ref lects the primarily peaceful nature of the Philistine occupation and an “integration strategy” practiced in Philistia that included intermarriage and coexistence. The difficulties encountered by scholars in identifying a distinct Philistine culture impede our understanding of the long-term development of this culture group throughout the Iron Age, as it adapted, to varying degrees, to a variety of external inf luences (such as Egyptian, Canaanite, Israelite, and Phoenician) and was increasingly integrated into Levantine society. Over time, some elements and technologies were borrowed; others were modified or replaced. Meanwhile, the populace maintained a core sense of Philistine-ness that, for a long time, distinguished it from surrounding communities (Stone 1995). Reconstructions interpret the changes in Philistine culture as ref lecting processes of assimilation (Dothan 1983; 1998a), acculturation (Gitin 1995: 79; 1998; 2000; Stone 1995), creolization (Maeir 2004; Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004) and/or cultural fusion (Uziel 2007). These developmental trajectories have been most recently discussed within a framework of boundary-maintenance strategies across what historically are considered to be the major interethnic boundaries at the time: Philistine/Egyptian, Philistine/Canaanite, and Philistine/Israelite. Boundary maintenance or permeability is interpreted as a reaction to varying degrees of tension and conf lict, or lack thereof, between or among these groups. While these studies on boundary behavior and cultural transmission processes are significant in terms of visualizing how change occurred over time (i.e., as intergenerational transfer within a framework of intergroup contact), they still often fail to explain adequately many of the observed developments. For example, Maeir’s (2008: 351) creolization hypothesis posits that the “foreign elements” within the material culture, as the dominant cultural component at Philistine sites, ref lect the more powerful position of the “ruling strata in Philistine society” within the social landscape. This is not dissimilar from Mazar’s (1985a: 106) description of the Philistines as “overlords.” However, many of the artifacts that ref lect administrative roles, such as seals and sealings; or wealth, such as ivories; or cultic symbols, such as zoomorphics are not drawn from the Aegean iconographic repertoire as one might expect if the “foreign elements” were equated with those in charge. Instead, these artifacts seem to rely on the Canaanite,

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or at least non-Aegean symbol set (e.g., Ben-Shlomo 2006; 2008b; Ben-Shlomo and T. Dothan 2006). What is missing from these studies, and what may provide significant data to address these questions, is the level of detail that can be afforded by contextual analyses of the materials found at Philistine settlements. Too often contextual differences have been ignored or glossed over. In the past, we have tended to reify typological discourse to such a point that we have removed type sequences from the context (e.g., social, economic, political) in which the artifacts were originally engaged and that promoted development and change. In the present discussion, scholars often fail to recognize that not all cultural elements might be as sensitive or similarly used in intercultural negotiations and that at different times and in different cultural domains boundaries can range from strong and solid to weak and permeable (Bunimovitz and Faust 2001; Faust and Lev-Tov 2011; Maeir 2008; Zukerman et al. 2007; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2008). A few studies, which focused on examining specific artifact types (e.g., cooking jugs, spool loom weights, bichrome pottery, and scapulae) that have either transcended the Philistine-Canaanite or Philistine-Israelite boundaries or remained restricted in their distribution, concluded that use-context, such as ritual or domestic, might be the primary factor that either allows or impedes the transmission processes (Yasur-Landau 2005; 2009; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2008; Zukerman et al. 2007; Faust and Lev-Tov 2011). These studies point to the need to investigate further individual artifact categories. While contextual analyses have been limited up to this point by the lack of published data from the Philistine Pentapolis, this situation should be rectified with the recent and forthcoming publications, as noted above. A contextual analysis of the nonlocal and local elements within material culture assemblages can offer a more intimate look into how individual items were used and what circumstances might prompt the appearance or rejection of the behaviors and activities that these objects ref lect and in which they are embedded. A contextual approach within a diachronic framework that investigates change over time might further point to variation in the use-context of these artifacts. Whereas previous studies have noted the continuity in certain cultural elements over time (see above), a diachronic analysis that takes use-context into account can shed light on changes in the way these retained cultural elements functioned, which may in turn ref lect variation in the cultural meaning ascribed to them (see, e.g., Zukerman et al. 2007). Yasur-Landau (2005; 2009) has recently suggested that different transmission forces may have been at play, depending on whether cultural behaviors were primarily associated with the domestic realm or the public sphere. He describes a situation of mixed-ethnic populations and bicultural households in the original Philistine settlements that created a condition in which a mix of domestic behavioral customs associated with habitus were transmitted across generations. He argues, however, that a different pattern may have existed for behaviors that are not typically restricted to

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the domicile. Although he notes that there are few data supporting an urban society with marked social stratification among the initial immigrants (Yasur-Landau 2010: 289–94), the elite behaviors for which there is some evidence point to an Aegean origin for rulers. These rulers used “Aegean symbols of rulership” such as central hearths, Aegean-style ritual feasting and drinking, and foreign leadership titles. At a later stage, contemporary with changes in elite behavior that are evident throughout the area in the 11th century b.c.e. (2009), a recognizable ruling class emerges (2010), one that could choose from among a variety of multicultural symbols of power and social status. The different routes that domestic and public objects travel within social transmission networks point to the need to unpack our types and examine the use-context of specific objects. This context suggests that symbolic expression, whether conscious or unconscious, may not always mark ethnic or cultural boundaries. Such expressions may also be used in reference to social and economic status, although they may be linked to a culturally or ethnically significant symbol set. To move beyond the method of comparative type lists, I propose shifting the focus of study to the archaeological context. Jones (1997: 126) suggests that a diachronic analysis can shed light on the processes by which objects become symbols and on the social context in which they are employed (see also Hall 1995; Steel 1998; Emberling 1999; Janusek 2002: 37). A contextual focus may allow us to view differential transmission processes between domestic and public realms, between the cultural actions that are embedded in habitus and other mechanisms of social engagement that might foster the maintenance or disuse of behaviors and their associated artifacts. Objects that become material signifiers may be artifacts that are intentionally curated, or alternatively, almost forgotten symbols that are renewed and exaggerated, or even embellished. The attributes originally chosen, however, may not remain static and may vary over time ( Jones 1997: 122–27; Emberling 1999), complicating the identification of these signifier objects. Additionally, the chosen symbols themselves over time may move between functional contexts. Using the Iron I settlement at Tel Miqne–Ekron as a case study, this essay examines changes in consumption patterns to explore the use of material culture in expressions of sociocultural identity.

Tel Miqne–Ekron Tel Miqne–Ekron is a multiperiod site located along the western edge of the inner Coastal Plain (fig. 1), in an area that functioned as a border zone between Philistia and Judah (Gitin 1987). Archaeological excavations at Tel Miqne–Ekron in the Iron Age have revealed an urban plan with industrial, cultic, and residential areas. 3 The material culture from this time, as ref lected in aspects of the ceramic technology, symbol system, and architectural design suggests the initial presence of two distinct but contemporary cultural systems: one related to the indigenous peoples; and one foreign. This 3.  For the most recent summary of the excavations, see Dothan and Gitin 2008: 1952–58.

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Fig. 1.  Map showing location of Tel Miqne–Ekron and other Philistine sites. Drawing by B. A. Saidel.

foreign presence has traditionally been associated with the arrival of the Philistines to the southern Levant (Dothan and Gitin 2008). The analysis presented here focuses on one area of excavation, Field IV Lower, located in the center of the tell, in what has been defined as the elite zone of the Philistine city (fig. 2). Viewing the stratigraphic profile of this area through a diachronic perspective highlights areas of dramatic change and points of long-term stability, demonstrating both innovation and cultural conservatism on the part of the occupants. This dichotomy between dynamism and stasis can clearly be seen in the time frame spanning the archaeological strata VI and V (table 1). 4 4.  It should be acknowledged, however, that the division of time into archaeological strata does not mean to suggest that archaeologists see the passage of time as occurring in noncontinuous,

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Fig. 2.  Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation Areas. Drawing by J. Rosenberg. Reproduced with permission of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

punctuated time intervals but that the archaeologists’ ability to measure change over time is founded on this type of chronological methodology.

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Laura B. Mazow Table 1.  Chronological Chart of the Iron I Strata at Tel Miqne–Ekron (adapted from Dothan and Gitin 2008: 1953) Strata

Date

IV

2nd half of 11th to 1st quarter of 10th century

V

1st half of 11th century

VI

4th quarter of 12th/11th century

VII

2nd–3rd quarter of 12th century

For the present study, multiple lines of evidence were used to observe change over time. Chronological differences in consumption patterns can be documented in a number of places but are particularly apparent in three areas: architectural design, the preference for specific cooking vessels, and the selection of fine wares. Much of the diachronic variation from Stratum VI to Stratum V is ref lected in an elaboration of stylistic attributes, possibly in association with public displays. In addition to these modifications in architectural style, cooking traditions, and decorated wares, there is also compelling evidence for continuity in certain activities over time. One activity in particular, the use of foundation deposits, continues relatively unchanged in form and materials across the chronological divide between strata VI and V. This stable practice, viewed in conjunction with the strong evidence for change in consumption practices provides an opportunity to investigate the way elements of material culture were actively used by individuals living at Tel Miqne–Ekron.

Architecture Architecture as a form of material culture is a powerful means of conveying social messages (see Parker Pearson and Richards 1994; Samson 1990; Trigger 1990). At Tel Miqne–Ekron in Field IV Lower, significant developments in architectural construction occurred from Strata VI to V. Outlining these changes demonstrates the maintenance of traditions and emphasis on continuity in the organization of space and spatial relations, within an overall program of architectural elaboration. The earliest Iron Age occupation in Field IV Lower, Stratum VII, was represented by two single-room structures. 5 The public character of the architecture is apparent almost from the inception of Iron Age occupation in this field. The wide, centrally located threshold of Building 352, Stratum VIIA (fig. 3) allowed unobstructed visibility, if not general access into the room’s interior. In the following Stratum VI, the area of occupation was greatly expanded. Building 351, which incorporated elements of the earlier single-unit structure (Building 352), was the first multiunit structure built in this area (fig. 4). Its architectural design 5.  The architectural summary of Field IV Lower is based on Gitin, Dothan, and Garfinkel forthcoming. A preliminary description can be found in Mazow 2005.

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Fig. 3.  Stratum VIIA, Field IV Lower. Drawing by J. Rosenberg. Reproduced with permission of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

implies that it served both a public and private function, with a wide-open entryway leading back to an area of more-limited access. The building plan included a benchlined entrance room that led through an indirect axis to a pillared hall with three side rooms along the east. A screen, represented by a diagonal line of postholes across the inner threshold between the entrance room and pillared hall, may have blocked vision and possibly access into these more-interior spaces. A pronounced change in architecture can be seen with the construction of Building 350 in the 11th century, Stratum V (fig. 5). The earlier Building 351 was replaced by a monumental structure whose thick walls set on large stone foundations ref lect a major investment of resources (Dothan 1998b: 259–60). An entrance room was built at the front of the building with a wide, central threshold demarcated by a f lanked pairing of both inset piers and pillars. From the entrance room, one reached a large hall built as a long room on a north–south axis with two centrally located pillars, a large platform, a bench, and a pebble hearth. A series of rooms lined the east side, whose plastered walls and rich artifact set attest the aff luence of the building’s inhabitants (Dothan 1998b; 2002). At the end of Stratum V (VA), the entire building complex was rebuilt from its foundations. It is significant to note, however, that this rebuilding followed along the exact same original architectural plan as initiated in the early phases

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Fig. 4.  Stratum VI, Field IV Lower. Note Building 352 from Stratum VIIA is incorporated as an entrance room in Building 351. Drawing by J. Rosenberg. Reproduced with permission of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

of Stratum V (VC), and the building continued to be in use with only minor revisions through the end of Stratum IV. This long period of sustained development, from the 11th to the beginning of the 10th centuries b.c.e. (see table 1) finally ended with the destruction and abandonment of the lower city in the final phase of Stratum IV. From an architectural perspective, Building 350 of Stratum V buried and replaced the earlier Stratum VI Building 351. An initial comparison of the two structures highlights the differences in their construction and plan: the ground plan of Building 351 is approximately half the footprint of Building 350; the walls of Building 351 are much thinner than Building 350, giving Building 351 an appearance of instability in com-

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Fig. 5.  Stratum V, Field IV Lower. Drawing by J. Rosenberg. Reproduced with permission of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

parison with Building 350; and, excluding the entrance to Building 351, the primary layout of that building seems based on a broad-room plan, aligned along an east–west axis, while the primary layout of Building 350 is a long-room plan, aligned along a north–south axis. There are also, however, many similarities between the two building plans in access, orientation, and organization of space. Both buildings are oriented with a north– south access; entrance to the building is from the north. Although Building 350 is larger in scale and more elaborate in design, its structural plan reproduces many of the features characteristic of the earlier Building 351 (fig. 6). These include a wide, centrally located threshold and entrance room, leading through a smaller, off-center doorway and into a pillared hall that controlled passage to a series of small rooms along the east side of the building. This spatial map is strikingly similar in the architectural design of both buildings. In addition to the overall orientation and spatial organization of the two buildings, another similarity is the location of the threshold, the vertical placement of which is retained from the earlier structure to the later one (fig. 7). The position of this entry point in both Building 351 and Building 350 also marks the location of the original entrance to the one-room public structure of the earliest Stratum VII Building 352 (see fig. 3). The maintenance of this spatial relationship from the original architecture,

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Fig. 6.  Comparison of Buildings 351 and 350 (author’s adaptation of original building drawings by J. Rosenberg).

and its incorporation into the newer structures may ref lect the fact that this spot was viewed as liminal or as a transitional space (e.g., Gheorghiu 2001; Dohmen 2001; Parker Pearson and Richards 1994). In the early buildings (Building 352, Stratum VII, and Building 351, Stratum VI), this threshold separated exterior and interior areas. In the later buildings (Building 350, Strata V and IV), it demarcated public and private spaces, a function that might also have pertained to the earlier structures. That is to say, in strata VII and VI, where the threshold marks the boundary between outside and inside, the exterior space at the entrances to Buildings 352 and 351 may have been the arena for public events, with the interior space reserved for more-private activities. In this respect, then, this threshold spot, with its long-term association as an access point into restricted space referenced both current authority and past. While radically different in scale and construction, the architectural continuity of the elements of access, orientation, and organization of space over the course of at least three major building phases across a 200-year time period suggests the intentional reproduction of a consistent architectural blueprint (e.g., Meijer 1989: 333). Although the function of these buildings has not been clearly determined, the most likely proposal, based on a distribution analysis of the associated artifacts and built-in features (Mazow 2005) agrees with Dothan’s suggestion (1998b: 259) that Building 350, at least, should be regarded as an elite domicile, possibly a governor’s residence or palace. 6 The people who resided in these buildings may have used construction events as a means of legitimizing their claim of succession by literally building on and monumen6.  Possible cultic elements associated with this building will not be discussed in this study, but these in no way affect the interpretation of this building as primarily residential. For further description of the function and nature of this building and its contents, see Mazow 2005.

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Fig. 7.  Overlay of Building 350 on Building 351. Note demarcation of threshold area (author’s adaptation of original building drawings by J. Rosenberg).

talizing the earlier structure, thereby expressing in stone a message of inherited social power (e.g., Nielsen 1995; Walker and Lucero 2000; Wallace 2003). The claim of inherited legitimacy was further established through the placement of jar burials. Three infant jar burials 7 were found in Iron I contexts in Field IV Lower (Gitin, Dothan, and Garfinkel forthcoming). 8 One of these was laid below the threshold at the main entrance to Building 350 in Stratum VC. A small juglet was placed near the infant’s hip. An additional store-jar base filled with ash and small bones was found with the burial. Jar burials, although common in the Middle Bronze Age (Block-Smith 1997; Ilan 1997), are relatively rare in the early Iron Age. Most of the documented examples come from cemeteries where multiple burial styles were found (Block-Smith 1997; Ilan 1997). At Tel Miqne–Ekron, finding an infant jar burial below the threshold at the entrance to Building 350 seems significant. It is the only one of the Iron Age burials in this field to have additional vessels associated with it. One can assume that this burial was somehow special to those who chose to place it under the building’s formal entrance, and it maintained continued significance to the individuals who knew of its location. The placement and location of this infant burial also emphasize the liminal 7.  One additional burial was found in the southeast corner of the field but, as it was not associated with a jar, it is not included in this discussion. 8.  A preliminary description can be found in Mazow 2005.

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Fig. 8.  Chronological comparison of cooking pots (CP) and cooking jugs (CJ); Nmax = 480; Nmax was the minimum number of the vessel count. See Mazow 2005: appendix A for full discussion of Nmax (author’s adaptation of original building drawings by J. Rosenberg).

or transitional nature 9 of this threshold, 10 as discussed above, and support a claim of inheritance. Those who controlled access across this threshold also retained a relationship with the deceased child buried below and all that this child may have represented.

Cooking Vessels In the context of analyzing the process of Philistine settlement, cooking wares can be used as a baseline for modeling change (see also Yasur-Landau 2010). The presence of a foreign-style cooking vessel at sites associated with the initial Philistine settlement, with its implications of foreign cooking methods and cuisine (Killebrew 1999: 106–8) as well as foreign women in the kitchen (Bunimovitz and Yasur-Landau 2002: 214, 216), has been one of the primary criteria attesting to the arrival of immigrants. The Philistine-style cooking jug and the local-style Iron Age cooking pot are very different in both manufacture and form (Killebrew 1999). The cooking pot 9.  For the liminality of death and rites of passage associated with it, see van Gennep 1960; and Turner 1967. 10.  Although the stratigraphic context of the second Stratum V jar burial is less clear, one could also posit that its location at the base of a staircase leading up to the second (possibly private) f loor of Building 350 may have marked an important distinction between upstairs and downstairs areas or between public and private space—i.e., that this burial may also demarcate transitional or liminal space. The third jar burial, dated to Stratum VIB, was discovered in a room that was not fully excavated, and therefore little is known of its context.

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is a large, round-bottomed, open vessel that develops locally from the indigenous Late Bronze Age cooking-vessel traditions. The Aegean (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 29–30; Yasur-Landau 2002: 118) or Cypriot (Killebrew 1999: 93–95; 2000: 242–43) cooking jug is a closed vessel with a restricted mouth, a f lat bottom, and generally one although sometimes two small handles. The dominant cooking-vessel form in the early phases of settlement at Tel Miqne–Ekron is the Philistine cooking jug (fig. 8). It makes up 95% (of a total of 377 cooking-vessel sherds) of the cooking wares associated with the earliest Iron I occupation (Stratum VIIB). The remaining 5% consist of a few (N = 2) variants of local early Iron Age cooking pots. With the expansion of occupied area in Stratum VIB, there is a corresponding increase in the quantity of both types of cooking vessels, but the Philistine cooking jug remains the dominant cooking form in Stratum VII through Stratum VI, representing 95% and 81%, respectively, of the cooking vessels found. This pattern changes, however, in Stratum VC. While there is a gradual increase from Stratum VII in the percentage of local-style cooking pots, between Strata VIA and VC there is a dramatic shift in the type of cooking vessel in use, with the local-style cooking pot becoming the dominant cooking vessel found in all contexts. This pattern in cooking-vessel choice, with its ref lection of transitions in quotidian domestic activities (Mazow 2005; Yasur-Landau 2010), is concomitant with the changes in architecture and in pottery seen between Strata VI and V.

Philistine Pottery The earliest Iron I ceramic assemblage from Tel Miqne–Ekron comprises two discrete but contemporary potting traditions (Dothan 1987: 202; 1998a: 154; Killebrew 1998a; 2000). The two traditions can be differentiated based on form, decorative style and, at least initially, technological style (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 3; Killebrew 1998a; 2000: 244). Philistine 1 pottery, 11 as recently described by Dothan and 11.  Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman (2006: 71–72) advocate the use of the term Philistine 1 for what has traditionally been referred to as Mycenaean IIIC:1b or Mycenaean IIIC:1 pottery and the term Philistine 2 for the traditionally named Philistine Bichrome pottery (their arguments for proposing these new terms can be found in Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman 2006: 71–72; with an earlier proposal in Dothan and Zukerman 2004). These type names emphasize both the local production of these vessel forms and their local development from Philistine 1 to Philistine 2. Because these aspects are also emphasized in this article, I find it useful to adopt this new terminology. However, it should be noted that there is not always a one-to-one correspondence between the new and old terms: the new system was specifically designed to allow for a more f lexible approach, such as Philistine 1/2 for vessels with “mixed stylistic features” (Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman 2006: 72), and it introduced a new type, Philistine 3, for “debased Philistine” forms (Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman 2006: 72). The original counting project, described below, did not take into account some of these differences. The Philistine pottery assemblage was classified as either “MYC” for the early Aegean-style forms or “PHIL” for the later development of the Aegean-style forms, including what is here termed Philistine 2 and Philistine 3. Mixed styles were also defined under one category. While

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Fig. 9.  Comparison of stylist groups (Local Canaanite [CO], Philistine 1 [Phil 1], Philistine 2 [Phil 2], and Red Slip [RS]) by stratum. Note the large percentage of Canaanite wares in each stratum (Nsample = 7501; Nsample was created from an adapted minimum number of vessel count, with information garnered from a chronological seriation study. This sample was then restricted to material coming from f loors and surfaces. See Mazow 2005: appendix A for full discussion of Nsample).

Zukerman (2004) and Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman (2006) was produced alongside the continuation of the Canaanite ceramic traditions of the Late Bronze Age. The majority of the Philistine 1 assemblage is composed of open, mostly decorated forms. Closed forms, which are much less common, include a variety of spouted vessels. The character of the assemblage is nonlocal in form and style and is related to ceramic traditions more commonly found in the Aegean world and in Cyprus (Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman 2006; Dothan and Zukerman 2004; Killebrew 1998a; 2000). Philistine 2, a development from the Philistine 1 pottery, has been described as a continuation of the basic Aegeanized forms (Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman 2006; Dothan and Zukerman 2004). Although there are significant changes, both in surface treatment and manufacture (London 1984), many of the original vessel forms and styles continue distinctly foreign traditions (Dothan 1982; Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 41–42). Typological studies of the Philistine ceramic assemblage describe it as comprised predominantly of decorated tablewares (Dothan and Zukerman 2004; Killebrew 1998a; 2000; Stager 1995). Although studies acknowledge the continuity of the indigenous Late Bronze Age ceramic traditions at Philistine sites, in general the local nature of the vessel counts, therefore, lack some of the nuances of the new schema, for the present analysis, which examines larger-scale developments within the ceramic assemblage, this should not pose too much of a problem.

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Table 2.  Comparison of Vessel Assemblages by Function Philistine Forms

Canaanite Forms Table Wares

Bowls painted

Bowls painted

Bowls plain

Bowls plain

Kraters painted

Kraters plain

Kraters plain

Kraters plain

Kylixes/chalices

Chalices

Cooking jugs/basins

Cooking pots

Small Closed Vessels Feeding Bottles (spouted jugs) Flasks? Strainer jars

—

Strainer jugs

—

Large Closed Vessels —

Storage jars?

Jugs

Jugs

Other —

Lamps

the material has been downplayed (Barako 2001: 13; Ben-Shlomo 2003: 87; Dothan 1998a: 154; Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 7; Stager 1995). These reports describe the local Canaanite assemblage as accommodating most of the closed forms, such as large storage jars and jugs (Killebrew 1998a: 397). 12 Spouted oil lamps also appear as part of the makeup of this ceramic assemblage (Killebrew 1998a: 397). It has therefore been suggested that the Philistine immigrants simply “filled in” their cupboards, with local wares substituting for containers that they did not carry with them (Barako 2001: 13 n. 7, 204; Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 32; Killebrew 1998a: 397). A closer look at the ceramic assemblage from Tel Miqne–Ekron suggests, however, that this may not have been the case and that the ceramics may ref lect a more complicated story. 12.  While morphologically, the forms of both f lasks and storage jars are Canaanite in origin, these also appear in Cypriot and Agean contexts (for storage jars, see Åström 1993: 310–11; Killebrew 1998b: 110–13; Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 32 and n. 28; for f lasks, see Furumarke 1941: 32, 62; Leonard 1994: 81–83; Killebrew 1998b: 124–29; Yasur-Landau 2010: 258–59). Therefore, it is difficult to determine if their appearance in early Iron Age strata ref lects Canaanite or Philistine ceramic traditions. Although this is an important area for future research, it is beyond the scope of the present study. In this essay, I retain the traditional assignments for these vessel types following the typological division in Killebrew 1998b: 78–186; and Dothan, Gitin, and Zukerman 2006: 74.

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Fig. 10.  Analysis of stylistic assemblage by functional category. Note the following:   (a)  In both the Canaanite and Philistine 1 charts, most of the assemblage is made up of open wares (eating, drinking, and serving vessels).   (b)  The increase in the percentage of serving vessels in the Stratum VI Philistine wares.

The vessels comprising the early Iron I occupation strata at Tel Miqne–Ekron demonstrate that Canaanite-style local wares make up almost half (44%) 13 of the 13.  Vessel counts are based on an estimated minimum number of vessel (MNV). For this study, the MNV was defined by rim sherds for most of the vessel types except for feeding bottles and strainer spout jugs, which were more diagnostic by spout than by rim, and stirrup jars, which were more diagnostic by false spout than by rim. The total estimate of the minimum number of vessels used in the present study is N = 11,834, drawn from approximately 696 loci examined. The ceramic data used in the quantitative analysis were collected by A. Zuckerman, N. Engleman, A. de Vincenz, and me, with the assistance of students and interns from the Hebrew Uni-

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Stratum VII ceramic assemblage (fig. 9; see also Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 5, table 1). A functional analysis of the Canaanite ceramic assemblage shows the presence of both closed and open forms (table 2). Open vessels, such as bowls and kraters, make up half the vessel forms produced in the Canaanite style, suggesting that consumption of these forms were an important part of the demand for Canaanite-style vessels (fig. 10). A typological comparison of the Philistine- (both Philistine 1 and Philistine 2) and Canaanite-style ceramic assemblages therefore does not support a model of functional substitution. Instead, it depicts a pattern of functional redundancy, whereby both cultural systems are producing a full array of domestic vessels. 14 The Tel Miqne– Ekron assemblage supports the traditional historical reconstruction of an immigrant population settling at Tel Miqne–Ekron but suggests that the Philistine immigrants did not oust the local population. Instead, both peoples lived at the site, as ref lected in the coexistence of two contemporary enculturative traditions, one Aegean in origin and one of local descent. Patterns observed in the makeup of the ceramic assemblage, however, are not static, and the associated behaviors that underlie these changes are ref lected in the archaeological record. A diachronic analysis of the Tel Miqne–Ekron ceramic assemblage points to variation over time in use practices, expressed in both vessel form and style. The chronological development in decorated tablewares from the initial spread of Philistine 1 vessels in Stratum VII to their replacement by Philistine 2–style vessels in the ceramic assemblage of Stratum VI has been well documented (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 3). Morphological variation between the Philistine 1 and Philistine 2 pottery suggests, however, that this switch represents a shift in production strategies but not necessarily consumption systems, because the vessel forms initially produced in the Philistine 2 wares replicated the types produced in the earlier Philistine 1 assemblage (Mazow 2005). However, both the manufacture (Killebrew 1998a) and the production (London 1984) of Philistine 2 pottery differed from Philistine 1 wares and demonstrate an affinity with local Canaanite production strategies. This suggests that the original immigrant ceramic repertoire continued to be produced (and consumed), but its production was adapted to align more closely with or fit into a local organization of production strategy. Therefore, continuity in vessel form and motif from the Philistine 1 to the Philistine 2 pottery, even while its manufacture and production system changed, suggests that these later vessels were an intentional ref lection and conscious maintenance of the Aegean-style morphology and symbol system. versity, the Rothberg School of Overseas Studies, the Albright Institute, and Al-Quds University, as part of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publication Project. Slight differences in numbers between Dothan and Zukerman (2004: 5, table 1) and the present essay ref lect the preliminary nature of the former statistics. The numbers presented here update and replace the earlier estimates. For a full discussion of the data and the counting project, see Mazow 2005. 14.  See Yasur-Landau (2010: 243, 262–64) for the idea that the Philistine ceramic assemblage represents the full range of Aegean domestic vessels.

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Fig. 11.  Lamp and Bowl Foundation Deposit, Building 351, Stratum VIB. Based on drawings by J. Rosenberg. Used with permission of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

Contemporary with these stylistic developments from Philistine 1 to Philistine 2 pottery was a change in the makeup of the ceramic assemblage. Serving vessels as well as pouring vessels and specialty containers became a more significant part of the ceramic vessels produced in the Philistine style. While serving vessels formed only a small percentage (approximately 2–3% of the Philistine 1 wares in Strata VII–VIB), decorated kraters constituted 22–25% of the assemblage of Philistine-style vessels in Strata VIA–VC/B. These patterns indicate a shift in the use of the Philistine-style wares from a primarily domestic assemblage to one whose focus on decorated serving containers ref lects its function as fine tableware. Pottery consumption no longer focused on replicating domestic equipment and patterns of household use, as in the earlier phases of settlement. Instead, the changing patterns suggest a move toward large-scale serving and supra-household consumption. At the same time, the vessel forms, because of their initial association with the original settlers, symbolically promoted the maintenance of traditional identities. The idea that the later Philistine wares were associated with nonhousehold events may be further supported by the spatial distribution seen at Tel Qasile, Stratum X, where Philistine Bichrome / Philistine 2 pottery was only found in the temples and buildings of Area C and not in association with the domestic residences of Area A (Mazar 1985b: 123).

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Fig. 12.  Lamp and Bowl Foundation Deposit, Building 350, Stratum VC. Based on drawings by J. Rosenberg. Used with permission of the Tel Miqne– Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

These changes in consumption practices at Tel Miqne–Ekron should be viewed together with the major construction period in the 11th century b.c.e. (Stratum VC) that monumentalized Building 350 and with the shift toward using Canaanite-style cooking vessels almost exclusively (outlined above). A spatial distribution of vessel types demonstrates a greater percentage of kraters in association with monumental Building 350 than with any of the other structural units in this area (Mazow 2005), which suggests that activities conducted in Building 350 were focused on decorated serving wares by and for a resident elite. The spatial and functional data suggest that the demand for the later Philistine pottery included a specific emphasis on the serving and consumption of food and/or drink, possibly in feasting contexts. Here, the new emphasis on the highly decorated and symbolically laden Philistine 2 kraters can be understood within their function as display pieces, where “they were used by hosts wishing to convey messages of ethnicity and common ancestry” (Yasur-Landau 2010: 251). Eventually, demand for the later Philistine wares was superseded by the production of fine-ware vessels decorated in a red slip (RS). The red-slipped ceramic assemblage has also been described as a fine or prestige ware, based on its limited quantities, distribution, and the “time- and/or energy-consuming manner” in which these vessels were manufactured (Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004). In the present context, this shift

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to red-slip ware can be interpreted as a functional replacement for the later Philistine/ Philistine 2 decorated pottery assemblage. It reproduced almost the entire functional range of ceramic forms present in the Philistine ceramic repertoire, including many of the specialty pouring and serving containers. Although it is beyond the scope of the present analysis, it may be suggested that, over time, the increasing emulation and wider distribution of Philistine-style vessels required the symbols marking status to be renegotiated, promoting the inf lux of a new style of elite dining wares (e.g., Dietler 2001).

Lamp and Bowl Foundation Deposits The architectural and ceramic data, including the data on cooking vessel choice, emphasize a dramatic development from stratum VI to stratum V. Increased effort and resources were spent to monumentalize the elite residence. Ceramic consumption of the Aegean-style wares shifted from feeding an immigrant population’s domestic needs to fulfilling the demand for an increasing number of highly decorated serving forms. At the same time, some activities, such as the ritual of laying foundation deposits remained virtually unchanged. Foundation deposits consisting of a spouted oil lamp covered by a bowl or sandwiched between two bowls were found associated with the construction of Building 351 at the beginning of Stratum VI (fig. 11), and Building 350 at the beginning of Stratum V (fig. 12). Lamp and bowl foundation deposits are usually found at the base of or under walls, in the corners of rooms, or below thresholds. Bunimovitz and Zimhoni (1993) catalogued this type of foundation deposit in the southern Levant and described the vessels as “new” and unused, with no evidence of soot on the lamp. Typologically, they stated that the vessels found in these deposits were “common in daily use, and no unusual form was found among them” (Bunimovitz and Zimhoni 1993: 121). While the bowl types used in the Tel Miqne–Ekron foundation deposits are not rare, they are far from being the most common forms. Within the Tel Miqne–Ekron ceramic assemblage, local painted bowls similar to those used in the foundation deposits make up approximately 15% of all the bowls in Stratum VIB and 9% in Stratum VC. In comparison, Philistine-style bowls are far more common, constituting approximately 45% and 42%, or almost half, of the total number of bowls in these strata. Additionally, spouted oil lamps are relatively rare within the Tel Miqne assemblage. A minimum of 18 was recovered in Field IV, concentrated in Stratum VI and the early phases of Stratum V. More common was a range of ad hoc lamps, consisting of bowls, vessel bases, and broken f lasks. The presence of soot along the edge of these broken and worn vessels is evidence that they were used for illumination. These ad hoc lamps were found evenly distributed, whereas spouted lamp forms were concentrated only in and around Buildings 351 and 350. Therefore, it seems that spouted oil lamps were severely limited in their function, and their use was restricted to specific buildings.

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In comparison with Bunimovitz and Zimhoni’s (1993: 121) claim that the vessels found in lamp and bowl foundation deposits were common forms, the examples from Tel Miqne–Ekron point to the rather uncommon type of these bowls in the ceramic assemblage and the very limited distribution of oil lamps. Since at Tel Miqne–Ekron neither the bowls nor the oil lamps were “common in daily use” (Bunimovitz and Zimhoni 1993: 121), I propose that the forms used in the Tel Miqne–Ekron foundation deposits were drawn from a prescribed and recognized set of vessels, a “tool kit” that was used specifically for foundation deposits. At Tel Miqne–Ekron, the adoption of bowl forms culled from the local Canaanite repertoire seems intentional. 15 Significantly, this practice does not demonstrate syncretism; for example, there is the use of the more common, Philistine, bell-shaped bowls in place of the Canaanite-style bowls in these foundation deposits, as suggested by Barako (2001: 202–3). 16 Instead, the exploitation of the “classic” lamp and bowl deposit emphasized the standardized nature of the ritual and firmly tied it into local ideologies. In their original study, Bunimovitz and Zimhoni commented on the surprising discovery of this Canaanite practice at Tel Miqne–Ekron (1993: 124): 15.  In this regard, it may be interesting to note the use of an Aegean-style, bell-shaped bowl in lamp and bowl foundation deposits at Tell el-Hesi (Bunimovitz and Zimhoni 1993: 111). Although the attribution of this bowl to the Mycenaean IIIC:1b / Philistine 1 ceramic family has recently been criticized (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 42), its appearance in the Tell el-Hesi deposits may suggest that “uncommon” forms—i.e., Philistine style as opposed to the more common local Canaanite style—were used in foundation deposits at that site in a manner similar to what is seen at Tel Miqne–Ekron. 16.  A number of lamp and bowl foundation deposits were discovered in “Philistine strata” at Ashkelon (Barako 2001: 202), but their stylistic attribution is, for the time being, problematic. Bunimovitz and Zimhoni (1993: 112) cite three examples found in courtyard surfaces dated to the Late Bronze II period. These consisted of lamps covered, not by bowls, but by chalices with broken stands, placed upside-down over the lamps. Barako (2001: 201) also mentioned at least five examples of traditional-style lamp and bowl foundation deposits dated to Phase 17, 11th century b.c.e. Unfortunately, references to specific vessel typology are not given for these deposits. Barako (2001: 202 n. 11) cites only one vessel type, a bowl with red slip and burnish surface treatment. For the other examples, he seems to be implying that the bowls used in the foundation deposits at both Ashkelon and Tel Miqne were of a similar style, the “typical ‘S-shaped,’ Philistine painted style” (Barako 2001: 203). Since the Tel Miqne bowls were definitely not Philistine-style, bell-shaped bowls, as previously discussed by Bunimovitz and Zimhoni (1993) and mentioned above, Barako’s description is difficult to accept. Therefore, Barako’s interpretation that this practice “was not adopted wholesale from the surrounding Canaanite material culture” (Barako 2001: 203, italics mine) and that because the foundation deposits were buried they “could not have acted as an ethnic marker, at least not in an outward, intergroup sense” (2001: 203) is also difficult to accept. He argues instead that “the form of the practice must have resulted from a utilization of the bowl type available, or it was an expression of ethnic identity strictly within the group” (2001: 203). In the context of my study of the Tel Miqne foundation deposits, I am arguing for exactly the opposite of what Barako is suggesting—that the bowl types used were of a specific form and that the practice could have functioned as a form of intergroup communication. Unfortunately, the wider implications of this point can only be clarified with additional publications of the Ashkelon material, and it will be important eventually to confirm from which stylistic/cultural assemblage the residents at Ashkelon were drawing.

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Fig. 13.  Krater Foundation Deposit, Building 350, Stratum VA. Based on drawings by J. Rosenberg. Used with permission of the Tel Miqne– Ekron Excavation and Publications project.

The foundation deposits from Tel Miqne are equally fascinating. Their occurrence in a public building . . . with distinct Philistine cultural traits attests to the preservation of a Canaanite cultural tradition, whose roots probably lay in the Canaanite population which occupied the site before the arrival of the Philistines. Their reconstruction suggests that a generation or so after the arrival and settlement of the Philistines on the site, the Canaanite presence reemerged as the prevailing power in the cultural mix. Their interpretation ref lects an assimilationist model. In their schema, the use of lamp and bowl foundation deposits for dedicatory rituals by the resident elite implies that the minority culture of the Philistines was subsumed already by the 11th century b.c.e. into a more-powerful, majority, indigenous culture. With this interpretation, we would expect to see a total reemergence of the local Canaanite culture as the dominant force at the site. The fact that a strong Philistine ethos continues into the Iron II period (Gitin 1995; 1998; 2000; Stone 1995) suggests that a different interpretation may explain the evidence better. An alternative hypothesis for understanding the use of lamp and bowl foundation deposits by the resident elite at Tel Miqne–Ekron is to view the adoption of this Ca-

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naanite practice as a method of legitimization. 17 In an effort to legitimate symbolically their role and right to power, elites of foreign descent could encourage the use of local symbols and rituals in an effort to downplay their “foreignness” and enhance their local ties and investments (e.g., Janusek 2002: 53; Pool 1992: 51–52). By absorbing regional traditions associated with power and wealth, new leaders could offer a more palatable way for their legitimacy to be accepted and, at the same time, define the legitimacy of their claim (Walker and Lucero 2000) in a language that communicated with their neighbors. 18 The practice of placing foundation deposits could have served as a means of legitimating the current power structure by referencing it to a locally known symbol of power and rule. Individuals who used lamp and bowl foundation deposits at Tel Miqne–Ekron were, therefore, pursuing a policy of access to power under the guise of local rituals.

Krater Deposits A second type of foundation deposit was also found in Field IV. It consisted of a whole Philistine 1 krater, filled with ash, in which a bowl containing fish bones was found (fig. 13). 19 The discovery of an almost complete Philistine 1 krater in a late Stratum V context is clearly an anomaly, possibly an heirloom, appearing as it does well beyond the chronological time frame for the production of Philistine 1 pottery. 20 This foundation deposit was laid contemporary with the major rebuilding of Building 350 in Stratum VA, a complex already acknowledged (see above) as being associated with power and prestige because of its monumental architecture and rich artifact assemblage (Dothan 1998b; 2002: 3–4). This krater and bowl deposit, therefore, may have substituted for or replaced the earlier lamp and bowl foundation deposits. 17.  Ben-Shlomo (2006) has also documented data, albeit limited thus far, for the Philistine use of Canaanite iconography and Canaanite-style administrative systems as ref lected in seals and sealings recovered from Philistine sites. This may be additional evidence of Philistine elites embracing Canaanite symbols, particularly in contexts that establish and clearly define political power. 18.  See also Begg (1991) for a similar interpretation of the use of Cypriot figurines. 19.  The stratigraphic attribution of this cache is unclear. While initially identified as a foundation deposit, it was later reinterpreted as a surface find associated with a Stratum VIA surface that was cut by a later (Stratum VA) foundation trench (Gitin, Dothan, and Garfinkel forthcoming). Publication of this vessel in Dothan and Zukerman (2004: 19, fig. 18:8; 22, fig. 24) as belonging to Stratum VIA ref lects this reconstruction. Alternatively, my own examination of the stratigraphy indicates that the original interpretation may be more correct. This suggests that the krater deposit was laid in the foundation trench contemporary with the massive rebuilding of Building 350 during the last phase of Stratum V (VA). 20.  Only a few additional examples of Philistine 1 vessels were found in Stratum V contexts (see also Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 4). All of them represent unique pieces in the Tel Miqne– Ekron ceramic assemblage. These include an elaborately decorated round-sided bowl (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 7, 9, fig. 5:12), a small strap-handled bowl (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 10, fig. 6:3,), and a miniature bell-shaped bowl with a solid black interior (Dothan and Zukerman 2004: 10, fig 6:8; 36–37).

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Modifications or adjustments to what had been standardized ritual practices can provide a window through which to view processes of sociocultural change since they allow a rare view of what must have been deliberate actions on the part of human agents—in this case, the choice of an heirloom krater in place of an oil lamp. The lack of soot-stained lamps in contexts postdating the early phases of Stratum V suggests that spouted oil lamps were no longer in use in Stratum VA, when the krater and bowl foundation deposit was set. Instead, the deposition of this krater and bowl cache occurred at a time when, as discussed above, kraters (specifically, Philistine-style kraters) were expressive of elite prestige, possibly used in contexts of feasting. This change, from “lamp and bowl” to “krater and bowl,” implies a shift in cultural signifier whereby kraters may have become more symbolically charged than oil lamps and therefore may have become acceptable vessels in what had previously been quite a restricted tool kit. In order to demonstrate affinity with a powerful external source, rulers may incorporate foreign cultural elements into their own practices (Dietler 1990; Joffe 1998) or, alternatively, maintain ties with a distant homeland by emphasizing symbols marking foreign descent (Pool 1992: 53). In the Stratum VA foundation deposit, the Philistine 1 “heirloom” krater, which harked back to its Aegean origins, replaced the traditional “lamp and bowl” in the ritual of placing foundation deposits in association with the construction and renewal of monumental structures. This change ref lects both an adaptation of the ritual and a more f lexible attitude toward the ritualized practice, one that allowed for a move away from the standardized tool kit. This f lexibility enabled manipulation and adaptation of the objects and their associated references—from artifacts firmly anchored in local symbols of authority to artifacts reasserting foreign ancestry. In this way, the self-styled Philistine elite turned to drawing on symbols from their past, displaying, documenting, and reinforcing their ruling status by referencing and imaging their origin story.

Conclusion Significant variation in materials and use-context can be documented in a number of areas between Strata VI and V (end of the 12th and beginning of the 11th centuries b.c.e.) at Tel Miqne–Ekron. Differences in cooking wares and in the functional types of vessels produced in the Philistine style suggest that a change occurred in daily domestic traditions, ref lecting a shift in the enculturative traditions of a formerly immigrant population. This transition included a change in the role played by the Philistine-style wares—from a domestic assemblage associated with an immigrant population’s adjustment of traditional methods of daily practices to a fine-ware assemblage used to express a concept of elite identity. Developments in both architecture and decorated wares point to an elaboration of form that was focused on elite consumption practices, while retaining strong cultural connections to the past. The amalgamation

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of elements seen in the dynamic development of the Philistine cultural assemblage can be understood as part of a strategy employed by the resident elite to create elaborate practices, expressing either local embeddedness or foreign origins, accompanied by a distinctive ensemble of ceramic vessels. It was at important junctures that foundation deposits were interred. These deposits emphasized the prominence of Buildings 351 and 350 and established the function of these buildings as focal points of power and authority. The continuity in organization of space combined with the placement of foundation deposits suggests that built architecture and construction events were used as tools to reinforce and sustain the legitimacy and authority of the elite at Tel Miqne–Ekron. The resident elite initially did this by drawing rituals from a prescribed and recognized symbol set. Over time, however, strategies changed and symbols were promoted that reinforced cultural references to the past (e.g., Pool 1992; Wallace 2003). With the increasing power of the Philistines in the southern Levant, documented at Tel Miqne–Ekron by the wealth of resources evidenced in the construction and occupation of Building 350 in Field IV Lower, decorated Philistine pottery was engaged in contexts where it was used as a method for reinforcing social power. Reconstructing Philistine settlement as an assimilated, acculturated, creolized, or fused material culture provides little insight into the way individuals lived and interacted within the ethnically and culturally diverse populations of the Iron Age southern Levant. Recent investigations of intergenerational transmission mechanisms help to “people” these conceptual models. At the risk of suggesting a new “name” for the process, I wish to draw attention to Deagan’s (1998) term transculturation, which is described as a process that “involved complex mixtures of cultural and individual interactions” (Silliman 2005: 66). With its focus on individual agents and multiple directions of inf luence, this model may offer a more promising framework in which to investigate the complex regionalism of the Iron Age in the southern Levant. An analysis of strategies of maintenance and adaptation at Tel Miqne–Ekron demonstrates the transformation of symbols in contexts expressing the active negotiation of social identity. In my current interpretation, material culture consumption at Tel Miqne–Ekron in the Iron Age I ref lects numerous small-scale transactions involving the mediation of social identities and ultimately the reinforcement of power and authority (see Wallace 2003). My research demonstrates that the traditional focus on foreign origins has obscured our understanding of these objects by removing them from their local contexts. Developments included a shift in the role played by the Philistine pottery, from a domestic assemblage associated with an immigrant population’s adjustment of traditional methods of daily practices to a fine-ware assemblage used to express a concept of elite identity.

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Acknowledgments This project was accomplished with the financial assistance of a number of dissertation fellowships, including: United States Information Agency (1997–98), Samuel H. Kress (1998), Education and Cultural Affairs (2002–3), George A. Barton (2003), the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture (2002–3), and funding from the Tel Miqne– Ekron Excavation and Publication Project. I would like to thank the Tel Miqne–Ekron project directors S. Gitin and T. Dothan for allowing me access to the excavation materials. Y. Garfinkel directed the excavation of Field IV Lower, and his field report provided the stratigraphic basis for the present study. The ceramic data used in the quantitative analysis were collected by A. Zukerman, N. Engleman, A. de Vincenz, and me with the assistance of many students and interns from the Hebrew University, the Rothberg School of Overseas Studies, the Albright Institute, and Al-Quds University as part of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavation and Publication Project. The architectural plans are based on drawings by J. Rosenberg. I also thank B. Saidel, who read earlier drafts of this essay and provided important critiques.

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Killebrew, A. E. 1998a Ceramic Typology and Technology of Late Bronze II and Iron I Assemblages from Tel Miqne– Ekron: The Transition from Canaanite to Philistine Culture. Pp.  379–405 in Mediterranean Peoples in Transition: Thirteenth to Early Tenth Centuries bce, ed. S. Gitin, A. Mazar, and E. Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1998b Ceramic Craft and Technology during the Late Bronze and Early Iron Ages: The Relationship between Pottery Technology, Style, and Cultural Diversity. Ph.D. dissertation. The Hebrew University. 1999 Late Bronze and Iron Age I Cooking Pots in Canaan: A Typological, Technological and Functional Study. Pp. 83–126 in Archaeology, History and Culture in Palestine and the Near East: Essays in Memory of Albert E. Glock, ed. T. Kapitan. Atlanta: Scholars Press. 2000 Aegean-Style Early Philistine Pottery in Canaan during the Iron I Age: A Stylistic Analysis of Mycenaean IIIC:1b Pottery and Its Associated Wares. Pp. 233–53 in The Sea Peoples and Their World: A Reassessment, ed. E. D. Oren. Philadelphia: The University Museum, University of Pennsylvania. 2005 Biblical Peoples and Ethnicity: An Archaeological Study of Egyptians, Canaanites, Philistines, and Early Israel 1300–1100 b.c.e. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. 2008 The Philistines in Context: The Transmission and Appropriation of Mycenaean-Style Culture in the East Aegean, Southeastern Coastal Anatolia and the Levant. Pp. 245–66 in Cyprus, the Sea Peoples and the Eastern Mediterranean: Regional Perspectives of Continuity and Change, ed. T. Harrison. Scripta Mediterranea 27–28. Toronto: Canadian Institute for Mediterranean Studies. Leonard, A. J. 1994 An Index to the Late Bronze Age Aegean Pottery from Syria–Palestine. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 114. Jonsered: Åströms. London, G. A. 1984 The Economic and Social Implications of Pottery Decoration. Unpublished paper. Jerusalem. Maeir, A. M. 2004 The Transformation of the Philistine Culture: A Socio-Linguistic Perspective on Societal Change. Paper presented at the American Schools of Oriental Research Annual Meeting, San Antonio, TX. 2008 Aegean Feasting and Other Indo-European Elements in the Philistine Household. Pp. 347–52 in DAIS–the Aegean Feast: Proceedings of the 12th Annual International Aegean Conference, Melbourne 25–29 March, 2008, ed. R. Laffineur and L. Hitchcock. Aegeaum 29. Liège: University of Liège. Maeir, A. M., and Shai, I. 2006 Iron Age IIA Chalices from Tell eṣ-Ṣâfī/Gath. Pp.  357–65 in Timelines: Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak, vol. 2, ed. E. Czerny et al. 3 vols. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 149. Leuven: Peeters. Mazar, A. 1985a The Emergence of the Philistine Material Culture. Israel Exploration Journal 35: 95–107. 1985b Excavations at Tell Qasile, part 2: The Philistine Sanctuary: Various Finds, the Pottery, Conclusions, Appendixes, ed. M. Bar-On, Y. Shiloh, and E. Stern. Qedem 20. Jerusalem: The Institute of Archaeology, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Mazow, L. B. 2005 Competing Material Culture: Philistine Settlement at Tel Miqne–Ekron in the Early Iron Age. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Arizona. Meijer, D. J. W. 1989 Ground Plans and Archaeologists: On Similarities and Comparisons. Pp. 221–36 in To the Euphrates and Beyond, ed. O. M. C. Haex, H. H. Curvers, and P. M. M. G. Akkermans. Rotterdam: Balkema. Nielsen, A. E. 1995 Architectural Performance and the Reproduction of Social Power. Pp. 47–66 in Expanding Archaeology, ed. J. Skibo, W. Walker, and A. Nielsen. Salt Lake City: University of Utah.

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Parker Pearson, M., and Richards, C. 1994 Ordering the World: Perceptions of Architecture, Space and Time. Pp. 1–37 in Architecture and Order: Approaches to Social Space, ed. M. Parker Pearson and C. Richards. London: Routledge. Pool, C. A. 1992 Strangers in a Strange Land: Ethnicity and Ideology at an Enclave Community in Middle Classic Mesoamerica. Pp. 43–55 in Ancient Images, Ancient Thought: The Archaeology of Ideology, ed. A. S. Goldsmith et al. Calgary: The University of Calgary Press. Samson, Ross, ed. 1990 The Social Archaeology of Houses. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Shai, I. 2009 Understanding Philistine Migration: City Names and Their Implications. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 354: 15–27. Sharon, I. 2001 Philistine Bichrome Painted Pottery: Scholarly Ideology and Ceramic Typology. Pp. 555–609 in Studies in the Archaeology of Israel and Neighboring Lands in Memory of Douglas L. Esse, ed. S. R. Wolf. Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization 59 and American Schools of Oriental Research Book 5. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago and the American Schools of Oriental Research. Silliman, S. W. 2005 Culture Contact or Colonialism? Challenges in the Archaeology of Native North America. American Antiquity 70: 55–74. Stager, L. E. 1995 The Impact of the Sea Peoples in Canaan (1185–1050 b.c.e.). Pp. 332–48 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. Stager, L. E.; Schloen, J. D.; and Master, E. M. 2009 Ashkelon I: Introduction and Overview (1985–2006). Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Steel, L. 1998 The Social Impact of Mycenaean Imported Pottery in Cyprus. The Annual of the British School at Athens 93: 285–96. Stone, B. J. 1995 The Philistines and Acculturation: Culture Change and Ethnic Continuity in the Iron Age. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 298: 7–32. Trigger, B. G. 1990 Monumental Architecture: A Thermodynamic Explanation of Symbolic Behavior. World Archaeology 22: 119–32. Turner, V. W. 1967 Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites of Passage. Pp. 93–111 in The Forest of Symbols, ed. V. W. Turner. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Uziel, J. 2007 The Development Process of Philistine Material Culture: Assimilation, Acculturation and Everything in Between. Levant 39: 165–73. Yasur-Landau, A. 2005 Old Wine in New Vessels: Intercultural Contact, Innovation and Aegean, Canaanite and Philistine Foodways. Tel Aviv 32: 168–91. 2008 Achish in the Bronze Age. Pp. *111–*14 in In the Hill-Country, and in the Shephelah, and in the Arabah ( Joshua 12, 8): Studies and Researches Presented to Adam Zertal on the Thirtieth Anniversary of the Manasseh Hill-Country Survey, ed. S. Bar. Jerusalem: Ariel. 2009 Behavioral Patterns in Transition: 11th-Century b.c.e. Innovation in Domestic Textile Production. Pp. 507–15 in Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager, ed. J. D. Schloen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2010 The Philistines and Aegean Migration at the End of the Late Bronze Age. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Walker, W. H., and Lucero, L. J. 2000 The Depositional History of Ritual and Power. Pp. 130–47 in Agency in Archaeology, ed. M.-A. Dobres and J. E. Robb. New York: Routledge. Wallace, S. 2003 The Perpetuated Past: Re-use or Continuity in Material Culture and the Structuring of Identity in Early Iron Age Crete. Annual of the British School at Athens 98: 251–77. Zukerman, A.; Kolska-Horwitz, L.; Lev-Tov, J.; and Maeir, A. M. 2007 A Bone of Contention? Iron Age IIA Notched Scapulae from Tell eṣ-Ṣâfī/Gath, Israel. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 347: 57–81.

Mother-and-Child Figurines in the Levant from the Late Bronze Age through the Persian Period Beth Alpert Nakhai The University of Arizona

Can Figurines Be Interpreted? The study of human figurines poses some of the most complex problems that archaeologists confront. This is because not many figurines are found, they are often found broken, and they are rarely found in the contexts in which they were originally used. Therefore, reconstructing the ways in which they were used and what they meant to the people who used them is particularly difficult. Of course, figurines are artifacts; leftovers from societies long gone, dug up on excavations in the best–case scenario, or purchased on the antiquities market in the worst. Nevertheless, they have a special appeal that derives from their unique and personal qualities, from the ways in which they seem to humanize the past. At the same time, thanks to Pablo Picasso (Hunter 1984: figs. 90, 216, 221), Amadeo Modigliani (Hunter 1984: fig. 52), Constantin Brancusi (Hunter 1984: fig. 53), Alberto Giacometti (Hunter 1984: figs. 195, 269), Max Ernst (Hunter 1984: fig. 243), and like-minded painters and sculptors, we are accustomed to looking at so-called primitive art as just that—as art (figs. 1A and 1B). Viewers react emotionally to evocative images by modern masters who themselves were inspired by contemporary or ancient folk art traditions. While it seems obvious that on a professional level archaeologists must respond differently, our encounter with imagery from the ancient world remains challenging. Surprisingly, there is as yet no surfeit of studies about ancient Near Eastern figurines, and there are few established parameters to guide interpretation. 1 Too often, Author’s note: It is my pleasure and honor to dedicate this paper to Seymour Gitin. Many thanks for the fieldwork opportunities at Tel Miqne/Ekron and elsewhere, for astute professional advice and support, for magnificent stewardship of the William F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research in Jerusalem, and for friendship. This article was completed in the summer of 2004; only very limited changes have been made to ref lect more-recent publications. 1. The citations that follow include some of the most important synthetic studies of ceramic figurines, including those that emphasize the Levant (Van Buren 1930; Murray 1934; May 1935;

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Fig. 1A.  Pregnant woman. Ivory figure from Beersheba, Israel. Israel Museum (IDAM), Jerusalem, Israel. Photo credit: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, New York.

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Fig. 1B.  Amadeo Modigliani (1884–1920), Standing Female Nude. Oil on cardboard. Blue on white. Private Collection, New York, NY. Photo credit: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, New York.

as N. Hamilton noted, “[P]ersonal politics—often covertly expressed—are central to the figurine debate, and frequently give it an emotional fervor” (Hamilton 1996: 282). Why is this so? It is because figurines are not snapshots of ancient peoples, and they Albright 1939; Pritchard 1943; Riis 1949; Dales 1960; Opificius 1961; Ucko 1962; 1968; Holland 1975; 1977; Engle 1979; Badre 1980; 1995; Hamilton et al. 1996; Kletter 1996; 2001; Spycket 2000; Pruss 2002; Mabry 2003; Moorey 2003; Cornelius 2004).

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do not come with instruction manuals explaining their meaning and use. Like all other data that archaeologists confront, figurines are mute. So archaeologists must carefully describe them and then reconstruct their function by examining image, fabric, archaeological and cultural contexts, and more—altogether, a difficult task. The modern rise and fall of the “Near Eastern Mother Goddess” provides an exemplar of what can go wrong in figurine studies. 2

Feminist Theory and Motherhood The intersection between Near Eastern archaeology and feminist theory has been slow in coming. M. Conkey and J. Spector’s seminal article “Archaeology and the Study of Gender” was a call to arms, cautioning archaeologists to beware of the degree to which archaeology has served to substantiate “a set of culture-specific beliefs about the meaning of masculine and feminine, about the capabilities of men and women, about their power relations, and about their appropriate roles in society” (Conkey and Spector 1984: 1). In ever-increasing numbers, feminist scholars have struggled to reconstruct the lives of women in antiquity, focusing on three primary areas: domestic life, the work force, and religion. Nowhere have they been more challenged, perhaps, than when elaborating on the interface between biological fact and sociological reconstruction. S. Ortner articulated the problem when she asked, “Is female to male as nature is to culture?” (Ortner 1974). 3 2.  A brief history of the so-called Mother Goddess clarifies these points. For the last century and more, corpulent figures of the sort found at Neolithic Çatalhöyük in Turkey (Mellaart 1967: figs. 49–53) were identified as images of a pan–Near Eastern Mother Goddess, a pregnant deity from an era in which, as the story goes, agrarian society was matriarchal, and all was well with the world. Sadly, it continues, patriarchy replaced matriarchy. Men began to oppress women, introducing weapons of war and replacing the goddess with newly concocted male gods. The coup de grâce to what had been an Eden-like paradise was dealt by Yahweh, God of Israel, whose followers represented the epitome of repressive patriarchy. This improbable reconstruction of the past has many adherents and reverberates within both academic and lay communities (Gimbutas 1989; Frymer-Kensky 1992). That some women travel to Çatalhöyük to explore issues of personal spirituality is one ref lection of “Her” popularity (Hodder 1996; Meskell 1998). The popularity of a pan-Near Eastern Mother Goddess can be attributed to the way in which it informs and supports trajectories within feminist thinking, which require images of female power in antiquity. However, scholars have recently demonstrated that a matriarchy never existed at Çatalhöyük or anywhere else in the ancient Near East (see, inter alia, G. Haaland and R. Haaland 1995; Meskell 1995, 1998; Hodder 2004; Taylor 1996; Tringham and Conkey 1998). For a discussion of the relationship between powerful goddesses and the status of women, see Pollock and Bernbeck 2000. The demise of the Mother Goddess has been used to justify anti-Semitism by those who think that her “murder” by Yahweh is a responsibility that Israel’s descendants, the Jews, must bear even today (for documentation and rebuttals of this argument, see Heschel 1992; von Kellenbach 1994). 3.  See Mukhopadhyay and Higgins 1988: 475–86 for a discussion of biological determinism, and especially pp. 479–81 for a critique of Ortner’s binary model.

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Modern technology notwithstanding, only women can conceive, gestate, bear, and nurse children; but saying this is not saying enough, since the ways in which motherhood functioned in society, how it was valued, and to what degree it empowered or constrained women were determined by social structure rather than by physiology (Matthews and Benjamin 1993: 22–36; Conkey and Gero 1997: 417–18; Perdue et al. 1997; Fox 1998; Handley 2000; and references therein). Motherhood is a role, and like any role, it must be defined in relationship to its larger setting—to family, kin group, and society. In the past, with patriarchy accepted as the baseline for scholarly descriptions of Near Eastern societal and familial structure, motherhood and the myriad contributions of women to economic, political, and religious well-being rarely merited consideration (Nakhai 2007). Recently, however, some scholars have begun to investigate the role of the mother in the ancient world. 4 That studies of motherhood in antiquity often bear modern baggage is a point worth noting. The ideas that people have about motherhood matter a great deal because motherhood is a topic in which people are heavily vested. Many believe that what motherhood was like in antiquity is significant for our modern world since, in their opinion, contemporary gender relations are validated—or devalued—by reference to ancient biblical roots. 5 However, one must question the relevance of ancient motherhood to our own era. R. Whitehouse best articulated this when she wrote, “The political battles of the present must be fought on their own terms and do not depend on any particular reconstruction of the distant past. We do not need powerful female role models in the deep past, nor do we need to base our struggle in the desire 4.  According to R. de Vaux, “[T]he Israelite family is patriarchal. . . . In the normal type of Israelite marriage the husband is the ‘master’ . . . of his wife. The father had absolute authority over his children” (1961: 20). “[The wife] addressed [her husband] as a slave addressed his master, or a subject his king. . . . All the hard work of the home certainly fell to her” (de Vaux 1961: 39). C. Meyers notes that traditional scholars—and even feminist biblical scholars—tend to “think of women primarily in ‘wife-mother’ terms, which are difficult to separate from their western connotations of the separation of the public from the private, and which usually imply the absence of an economic role” (Meyers 2003b: 188). Assumptions of this sort are less common nowadays, as scholars have come to agree that, in the Neolithic period and later, “Both men and women could carry out a series of roles and enjoy a range of positions” (Hodder 2004: 83). See Meyers 1988; 2002; 2003a; 2003b; and references therein for additional bibliography on Israelite women’s economic roles. See also Gilchrist 1999; Nelson 1997; Sørensen 2000; Wright 1996; and references therein for general studies on the archaeology of gender and the social status of women in antiquity. Recent articles and books on aspects of motherhood include Bolen 1992; Olsen 1998; Hawass 2000: 82–96; Stol 2000; Schneider 2004; 2008; Ebeling 2010: 115–28. Today, motherhood is somewhat more likely to be included as a category for study than it was in the past, as seen in the wealth of recent books on the quotidian in ancient times (Nakhai 2005; see also essays in Perdue et al. 1997). 5. The popularity these days of Eve, Lilith, and Mary Magdelene—each touted as a role model for modern women—indicates that such questions reverberate not only in academia but also in contemporary religious circles and in lay society as well (see, inter alia, Gadon 1989; Hershman n/d). The use of biblical passages to validate or condemn modern behavior is widespread in the United States and elsewhere and often serves to further specific political or ideological agendas.

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to regain a hypothetical lost paradise in which gender equality reigned or female values dominated” (Whitehouse 1998: 5; see also Hackett 1989; Eller 2000). Written evidence from ancient times that bears on motherhood or describes individual mothers is scant. There are a few useful passages in the Hebrew Bible, particularly in the book of Genesis. 6 Some other epic and mythic material as well as letters and contracts from Egypt, Syria, Mesopotamia, and elsewhere are also helpful. However, altogether, the corpus of relevant texts is not large. It is, therefore, all the more important to look at alternate ways to reconstruct the role of the mother in the societies of the ancient Levant. An examination of figurines depicting women holding children provides one important means of doing just that.

Typology of Mother-and-Child Figurines To date, no study has focused specifically on mother-and-child figurines in the ancient Near East. 7 To begin the discussion in this essay, I present an overview of (primarily) ceramic mother-and-child figurines from the Late Bronze–Persian period Levant. 8 I divide them into three categories or types: women pregnant or in the process of childbirth; women holding children; and women nursing children. Of course, typological studies have an inherent weakness inasmuch as they are insensitive to contextual links. 9 Nevertheless, this tripartite classification facilitates an overview of this complex and previously unexplored body of material. 10 Type One: Pregnancy and Parturition Pregnancy It is surprising to discover that, in the Levant, ceramic figurines showing pregnant women (whether human or divine) were rare until the Persian period. Pregnant goddesses carved from ivory were found at the Chalcolithic sites of Bir es-Safedi and Beersheba (fig.  1B), both in the Negev Desert (Perrot 1969; Amiran and Tadmor 1980). One in metal was found at MB IIB Gezer (Negbi 1976: 179, no. 1547). While not immediate forerunners of the Late Bronze–Iron Age iconographic tradition, they 6.  For studies of mothers in the Bible, see Meyers 1991b; Schneider 2004; 2008. 7.  Studies of kourotrophoi, mother-and-child figurines, are much more common among scholars of the Aegean and Classical worlds (see Price 1978; Merrillees 1988; 1992; Budin 2011; see also Nakhai 2012). 8.  H. May commented on the relatively late appearance of ceramic figurines in the Levant, which he associated with the disruptions in the region at the end of the Middle Bronze and throughout the Late Bronze (May 1935: 30). More recently, see Dales 1960: 3–4; Moorey 2003: 23–46. 9.  In her study of Late Bronze Age Minoan and Mycenaean kourotrophoi, B. Olsen noted that “the meaning of these figurines varies according to context. They may be votives, grave offerings, and/or household objects. What is significant . . . is that all these contexts are loci where the placement of women with infants is emphasized” (Olsen 1998: 388; see also McAdam 2003). 10.  For studies of figurines in metal, see Barrelet 1958; Negbi 1976 and references therein; Moorey 1984. For iconography in general, see Keel and Uehlinger 1998 and references therein.

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Fig. 2.  Pregnant woman supporting breasts; figurine mold and modern cast. in G. Kelm and A. Mazar, Timnah: A Biblical City in the Sorek Valley (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995) 88, pl. 32. Reprinted with the permission of Eisenbrauns.

provide our earliest examples of this particular image. In Egypt as well, images of pregnancy were rare, more or less limited to sculptures or wall paintings illustrating the birth of a king, and to Tawaret/Thoeris, the pregnant hippopotamus goddess (Robins 1993: 80). In early Mesopotamia, women were rarely depicted (Albenda 1983: 82– 83); images of pregnant woman appear neither in statuary nor in figurines (Bahrani 2001: 48, 81; see also Van Buren 1930; Badre 1980). In the Late Bronze II and Iron I, clay figurines of pregnant women were made using the plaque technique (fig. 2). 11 Commonly, they depict a nude woman standing upright, bracelets on each arm. Most clasp their hands beneath their pregnant belly, but on some, the hands support the breasts ( James and McGovern 1993a: 165–66; James and McGovern 1993b: fig. 76:7; Kelm and Mazar 1995: 88, color pl. 32). These figurines come from sites such as Tell Beit Mirsim, Megiddo, and Gezer (for specific references, see Macalister 1912: pl. 220:19; May 1935: pl. 24, fig. M2653; Albright 1939: 119; Pritchard 1943: figs. 93, 173–82, and p. 55; Kletter 1996: 34, and 5:V:4 fig. 11). In the Iron II, figurines of pregnant women were rare, but some have been found in Transjordan (for Buseireh, see Kletter 1996: 31, app. 4.VIII:1–16; for additional references, see Uehlinger 1997: 133 and n. 190) and Philistia (for Ashdod, see Dothan 1971: fig. 64:1, 3, pl. 57:1, 5; Dothan and Porath 1982: fig. 34:1, pl. 27:1; for Tel Jem11.  Figurines of this type were made by pressing clay into a ceramic mold. The image appeared in relief on the front side while the back side was simply smoothed over. For studies of the technique used for making plaque and other figurines, see, inter alia, Glanzman and Fleming 1993a: 95; 1993b: fig. 2; Badre 1995; Kletter 1996: 50–52.

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meh, see Kletter 1996: 35; app. 5.V.9:12–18; for additional sites, see app. 5.V.9:8–9, 19–21). Figurines f lank the entryways of some LB II–Iron II model shrines from Cyprus and the Levant. 12 Most interesting is an unprovenanced ceramic shrine now at the Beirut Archaeological Museum (fig. 3). Its entryway is f lanked by two mold-made pregnant goddesses who stand, their hands supporting their breasts. Nude, they are coiffed in curls, and each wears a necklace and bracelets. One also wears a headdress topped with a bird; originally, both would have done so (Seeden 1979). At Horvat Qitmit, a late Iron II Edomite site, a figurine of a pregnant goddess was found. Nude, her hands support her breasts, and she wears a headdress and necklace. It (Beck 1995: no. 107) and a second figurine found in fragmentary condition (Beck 1995: no. 108) seem to have been made from the same mold. Originally, they would have f lanked the entryway to a shrine like the one now in Beirut (see reconstruction, Beck 1995: fig. 3:69). These entryway figurines are understood to replicate or complement the divinity who stood within the shrine, just as the model shrine replicates a full-size sanctuary. 13 An image for worship, the pregnant goddess may bear a god or a deified king. More importantly, however, she could bring the blessing of reproductive well-being to worshipers who set up the model shrine in their homes or villages, just as she did for individuals who came to the sanctuary. 14 Pregnancy is also displayed in a most unusual venue, a hermaphroditic figurine from Amman Tomb C (fig. 4). This 8th-century piece has a painted beard and mustache and wears an unusual double-spiral headdress. 15 Its breasts are small, and its arms support its large pregnant belly (Harding 1951: pl. 14). P. Beck’s analysis of some 30 Iron II figurines holding tambourines shows that, while most are women, 2 are hermaphroditic, and 2 others hold babies. Beck demonstrates the link between

12.  For synthetic studies, see Culican 1976; Weinberg 1978; Bretschneider 1991; Dever 2008. 13.  See also the goddesses, arms at their sides, that f lank the doorway of a 10th-9th-century ceramic altar found near the Tel Rehov apiary. A second pair of goddesses f lanked a fragmentary altar (Mazar and Panitz-Cohen 2008). 14.  A fascinating discovery at LB II Mumbaqat in northern Syria illuminates the way that some plaque figurines were used. The upper part of a large ceramic figurine was found leaning against the wall of a room used for cultic ceremonies. It portrayed a bejeweled goddess, her hands supporting her breasts, wearing a Syrian-style headdress. A mold found elsewhere on the site was used to manufacture smaller but nearly identical figurines (Conrad 1985). Ceramic plaques discovered at 11th-century Tel Qasile and elsewhere depict goddesses standing in the façades of elaborate sanctuaries. Some appear alone, arms at their sides; some hold a breast with one hand; some are accompanied by a small standing child (Mazar 1980: 82–84, fig.  20, pl.  30:1; 1985). These plaques, like the model shrines, show goddesses standing in front of the sanctuaries in which their image or the image of their male consort stood. 15.  For a discussion of similar double-spiral ornaments being used by pregnant women, see Frankfort 1944; Aruz 2003: figs. 77, 246; n. 7.

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Fig. 3.  Clay shrine in American University of Beirut Museum. From H. Seeden, “A Small Clay Shrine.” Berytus 27: 7–25 (1979) pl. 2. Reproduced with the permission of American University of Beirut Museum, Lebanon.

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Fig. 4.  Hermaphroditic figurine from Amman Tomb C. Pl. 14 from G. L. Harding, Two Iron Age Tombs in Amman. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 1 (1951): 37–41. Reprinted with the permission of Department of Antiquities of Jordan.

tambourine players and fertility 16 and suggests that the pregnant hermaphrodite from Amman Tomb C points to a link between hermaphrodism and fertility, as well (1990; 1999). 17 Viewed from this perspective, it is worth noting that the Egyptian god Bes, the deity honored for protecting women during childbirth, was sometimes shown as hermaphroditic (Hornblower 1930: 14–16, fig. 9:2; Wilson 1975: 81) and sometimes appeared with a tambourine (Kaiser 2003: 33). 18 Late in the Iron II and throughout the Persian period, a special type of female figurine became popular in the Phoenician world. The so-called dea Tyria gravida shows a goddess seated, pregnant, wearing a long robe and a headdress (fig. 5). A standing version is also known, and occasionally she holds or nurses a child;. The dea gravida is found at Phoenician sites in the Levant (Achzib, Makmish, Dor, Tel Sippor, Tell es-Saʿidiyeh, Tell Abu-Hawwam, Kharayeb, Byblos, Tyre, and more) and in Cyprus, as well. 19 It is hollow, mold-made, and stands some 18 inches high. 20 It was often found in favissae, buried with other cult objects. Some of the deae gravidae found among the 400 or so figurines from the 5th-century Shavei Zion shipwreck were identified with the divine name Tanit, Phoenician successor to a Canaanite goddess, whether Astarte, Anat, or Asherah (Cross 1973: 28–34; see Chéhab 1953–54: pl. 2:1; Avigad 1960: 93–96, pl. 11a-b; Culican 1969; Negbi 1966: 6–12, pl. 6:19; Stern 1982: 38–40, pl. 2; 2003: 311–15; Pritchard 1985: 87, fig. 169:46–47; Dayagi-Mendels 2002: 148–49, fig. 7:6). 21 The broken lower half of an Iron Age plaque figurine showing a pregnant woman whose hands support her belly was found together with dea gra­vida figurines in a mid-4th-century favissa at Tel Sippor (Negbi 1966: 8, pl. 5:18). That this simple Iron Age figurine remained meaningful to people for more than half a millennium and 16.  Female tambourine players rather than pregnant goddesses f lank the entryway of another model shrine, now in the Jordan Archaeological Museum (Badre 1995: fig. 6c). 17.  See Meyers 1991a for a discussion of female drummers and the Israelite cult. 18.  Bes is now sometimes described as the Bes-image to account for the fact that one name is associated with a number of dwarf-gods (Romano 1998; Kaiser 2003: fn. 3). 19.  For the transmission of female imagery from the Near East and Cyprus to the Classical world, see Riis 1949; Ammerman 1991; Tobin 1991: 188–89; Karageorghis 2002; Serwint 2002. 20.  In addition, a mold for making plaque figurines of a pregnant woman with her hands supporting her breasts was discovered at Phoenician Dor (Stern 1994: 124, fig. 67). 21.  Culican suggests a parallel with the Tawaret/Thoeris, the Egyptian goddess of childbirth, who was represented as a pregnant hippopotamus (Culican 1969: 44).

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Fig. 5.  Dea gravida figurine. From N. Avigad, “Excavations at Makmish, 1958: Preliminary Report,” Israel Exploration Journal 10 (1960) 90–96, pl. 11A–B. Reprinted with the permission of Israel Exploration Society.

that it came to share a sacred resting place alongside figurines of goddesses pregnant or with children is extraordinary. These few examples notwithstanding, images of pregnant women were rare in the Bronze and Iron Ages. This may be due to the fact that, in the ancient Near East, fertility was expressed by reference to the contribution of the male, the sower of the seed. Women were considered bearers of offspring, but credit for fertility accrued to the male (Levine 2002; Pruss 2002: 544). As surprising as this sounds, one must remember that it was not until 1827 c.e. that the ovum was discovered, first seen under the microscope by Carl Ernest von Baer—and not until the end of that century was the process of fertilization more fully understood (Feldman 1968: 140). This means that, prior to the 19th century, the female contribution to conception went unrecognized. Women were considered vessels for—but not active agents of—reproduction. For people in antiquity, a figurine depicting a pregnant woman would not have evoked the same thoughts of fertility that it might today (see Mukhopadhyay and Higgins 1988: 483–84 for a discussion of modern societies in which men, not women, are seen as symbols of fertility).

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Parturition The childbirth process was almost never depicted in the Bronze and Iron Age Levant. Perhaps the only exceptions are the three remarkable 13th-century b.c.e. plaque figurines that seem to have been made from a single mold (fig. 6). The most complete example measures ca. 11 cm tall. Examples were found at Kibbutz Revadim (near Tel Miqne/Ekron), Tel Aphek, and Tel Harassim/Nahal Barkai (Givon 1995: 44–45, fig. 16:2). The image is of a long-haired goddess wearing a crescent-shaped pendant and three bracelets on each arm. She prepares for childbirth as twin embryos, each clutching one of its mother’s breasts, await delivery. A horned animal and a tree, traditional symbols of life and fertility, appear on the woman’s thighs (Beck 1986; see also Margalith 1994; Ward 1969). They and the three pendants that adorn her neck invoke divine protection for this difficult delivery (Ornan 2009). In both pose and braceleted arms, this figurine resembles the simpler plaque figurines of the Late Bronze II–Iron Age (see also Moorey 2005: 95–96). Type Two: Holding Children Images of women holding (but not nursing) children are uncommon but deserve mention. A natu- Fig. 6.  The twins figurine, from ralistic plaque figurine was found on a 13th-century Kibbutz Revadim, Late Bronze period. Reproduced with the b.c.e. surface at Tell el-Wawiyat, in the Lower Galilee permission of Israel Antiquities (fig. 7). It shows a nude mother embracing her child. Authority. Photograph © The She holds her toddler in her left arm, while her right Israel Museum, Jerusalem. arm rests under her breasts (Nakhai, Dessel, and Wisthoff 1993: 1501). Stylistically, the closest parallel to the Wa­wiyat figurine is one from Tall al-ʿUmayri. Like the Wawiyat figure, the ʿUmayri figure clutches a child in her left arm, but the child is younger and may be nursing rather than simply being held. Unlike the Wawiyat figure, the ʿUmayri figure wears a necklace (London and Clark 1997: fig. 23; Herr et al. 2002: fig. 16:36:1834). Two other figurines from the same site, both badly broken, may originally have displayed similar images (Herr et al. 2002: fig. 7.8:130–31, 16.36:1696). While the ʿUmayri figurines come from fills, ʿUmayri, like Wawiyat, was occupied in the LB II, and it may be to this era that the figurines date. Two interesting figurines from Deir ʿAlla and Shechem show a goddess using both hands to hold up a forward-facing child (fig. 8). The child’s arms are upraised, and the back of its hands rest on its mother’s breasts. Although the mothers’ heads are missing,

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Fig. 7.  Mother-and-child figurine from Tell el-Wawiyat. Reproduced with the permission of B. A. Nakhai and J. P. Dessel.

traces of Hathor curls can be seen, and both children wear special headbands. The Shechem figurine, at least, was originally affixed to a ceramic stand. These pieces may date to the late Iron I or early Iron II (Franken 1960: pl. 13b; Dever 1974: fig. 6; see also Dornemann 1983: 130–31; Beck 1999). Several figurines depicting bare-breasted women holding children were found at Beth Shan. The earlier of the two, dating to the 11th–10th centuries, shows a woman holding both a child and a tambourine in her left arm. 22 The child wears a headdress and the woman, whose head is missing, wears a necklace and a waistband, or perhaps a skirt ( James 1966: fig. 111:6). This figurine resembles one found at Megiddo (May 1935: pl. 24:M 2653; Beck 1999: 390). The second Beth Shan figure, which dates to the 9th-8th centuries, also shows a woman holding a child in her left arm. She wears a headband and a waistband or skirt but no necklace ( James 1966: fig. 112:7). An early 9th-century plaque figurine from Pella depicts a nude goddess standing and raising up a child in her left arm. She wears bracelets, anklets, and a waistband; the child wears only a necklace (Potts et al. 1988: 141, pl. 22:3–4). The resemblance be22.  See above and Beck 1990; 1999 for explorations of the link between tambourines and fertility.

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Fig. 8.  Goddess holding up a child, from a cult stand at Shechem. From W. G. Dever, “The MB IIC Stratification in the Northwest Gate Area at Shechem,” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 216 (1984) 3–52, fig. 6. Reproduced with the permission of the American Schools of Oriental Research.

tween this figurine and one from a Late Roman period tomb at the same site is striking. As previously noted, at Persian period Phoenician sites including Tel Sippor, Sarepta, Dan, and Dor, some dea gravida figurines hold children (Negbi 1966: pl. 1; Pritchard 1975: fig. 56:5; Biran 1994: fig. 175:1; Stern 1982: pl. 2:5). Altogether, there are not many representations of women holding children. 23 The uniformity of the deae gravidae notwithstanding, the few examples that do exist are idiosyncratic. No exact parallel has been found for the Wawiyat figurine. Some figurines, such as those from Deir ʿAlla and Shechem, suggest regional traditions while others, such as those from ʿUmayri, Beth Shan, or Pella, indicate site-specific traditions. What does seem clear is that, alongside the broadly venerated traditions that are apparent in plaque and pillar-based figurines, Levantine religious traditions were f lexible enough to allow for individualization as well. 23.  For additional examples at Samaria and Tell el-Farʿah (N), see Uehlinger 1997: 119.

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Fig. 9.  Marble idol “Mother and Child.” Ancient Anatolian, 3rd millennium b.c.e., Anatolia, Turkey (Kasmin Collection). Photo credit: Werner Forman/ Art Resource, New York.

For the youngest in all mammalian species, it is mother’s milk and not bread that is the staff of life. Indeed, the very survival of the human species is dependent on mothers nursing their offspring. In antiquity, women nursed their children for about three years. Nursing on demand generally (although not always) results in lactational amenorrhea, whereby menstruation is suppressed for an average of 18.5 months. This delays conception of a subsequent child and results in approximately four births per mother. 24 In addition, nursing leads to greater immunity from childhood diseases, somewhat reducing the high rate of infant and child mortality (Goodman and Arme­lagos 1989; Gruber 1989; Robins 1994–95: 27–28). 25 Even so, as many as a third of children born in the Iron Age died before reaching age five (Bolger 1992: 159). Figurines depicting nursing mothers were extremely popular throughout the ancient Near East and can be found across a broad range of geographical and temporal contexts (fig. 9). They served to provide a tangible reminder of the physical capacity of women to nurture their young and to sustain their communities—and of the spiritual capacity of goddesses to empower royalty (fig. 10). 26 The maternal was a concept that resonated throughout the region. In Syria, two bronze sculptures of a seated goddess nursing her infant were found near the Byblos temples (Seeden 1982: figs. 13–14). 27 The image of a goddess nursing two standing boys was carved into an ivory panel decorating a bed at Ugarit (Schaeffer 1954: pl. 8;

24.  Modern studies indicate that bottle-feeding reduces the average interval between births by 40% and increases the fertility mean by 64% (Gruber 1989). 25.  While the biological data and these statistics were not known to people in antiquity, there is no reason to assume that they were unaware of the basic correlates—especially the relationship between extended nursing and delayed pregnancy (see McClain 1982: 32–34). 26.  The power of this image was so great that some Israelites depicted their god Yahweh, an incontrovertibly male god, as the god who mothers his people Israel (Isa 42:13–14, 49:15, 66:13; and see Gruber 1983). For the capacity of goddesses to imbue royalty with the essence of the divine (including the goddess presented as a tree of life nursing a regnant king), see Hestrin 1991. 27.  For 3rd-2nd-millennium images in Mesopotamia, see Moorey 2005: 79.

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Fig. 10.  Hathor in the form of a cow suckles a royal infant. A detail of a painted sandstone statue from the chapel of Tuthmosis III, 18th Dynasty, ca. 1479–1425 b.c.e. Egyptian Museum, Cairo. Photo credit: Werner Forman/Art Resource, New York.

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Fig. 11.  Figurine of a mother nursing a child. Samaria, Iron II. From G. M. Crowfoot and E. L. Sukenik, “Figurines,” in The Objects from Samaria (ed J. W. Crowfoot, G. M. Crowfoot, and K. M. Kenyon; London: Palestine Exploration Fund, 1957) 76–82, esp. p. 77. Reproduced with the permission of the Palestine Exploration Fund.

Ward 1969; see also Margalith 1994). 28 A clay figurine of a nursing goddess was found at LB II Beth Shan (Rowe 1940: pl. 68A:4). Nursing figurines were popular in Cyprus, as well (see, inter alia, Sophocleous 1985: pls. 19:4–6, 30:1). In the Iron Age, depictions in stone relief from Neo-Hittite Karatepe (Akurgal 1962: 141–42, fig. 150), in ivory from Neo-Assyrian Nimrud (Mallowan 1966: figs. 513, 515), and in clay from Neo-Babylonian Larsa (Parrot 1961: fig. 316) highlight the divine and human qualities of the nursing mother. These are but a few of the many examples of this very popular image. 29 A Persian period example comes from Makmish, where an unusual dea gravida figurine shows a seated pregnant goddess nursing a child (Avigad 1960: 93, fig. 11C). Given its widespread appeal, one would expect to find the nursing image replicated in the Iron Age nations of the Levant, but this did not happen. There are few nursing figurines from Israel, Judah, Transjordan, or Philistia (fig. 11). 30 However, an examination of another type of figurine, the pillar-based figurine that depicts a woman supporting her breasts with both her hands, helps to explain the near absence of nursing figurines in Iron Age sites—or at least, in Iron II Israel and Judah (fig. 12). Before discussing the pillar-based figurine, however, one needs some background. Plaque figurines that show women supporting their breasts with one or both hands were popular throughout the ancient Near East from as early as the 3rd millennium. In the Levant, they were most common in the 14th–13th centuries (Conrad 1985; Moorey 2003: 37–40). In this context, they are often described as “Astarte figurines,” under the assumption that they represent one of the principal goddesses of the Ugaritic pantheon (see, inter alia, Albright 1939; Pritchard 1943: Type II, 11–14, 42–49; Riis 28.  According to I. Cornelius, it is not possible to identify conclusively this image with any single goddess within the Ugaritic pantheon (Cornelius 2004: 37–39). 29.  For additional examples, see Moorey 2005: 141, 187. 30.  An exception is found at Israelite Samaria. There, a mold for producing plaque figurines in the image of a seated woman nursing her child, and the broken lower parts of several figurines of this sort, were found in the 8th-century Trench E 207 (Crowfoot and Sukenik 1957: 76–79, figs. 7–8, possibly 10–11, pl. 12:6–8).

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Fig. 12.  Three “Astarte” figurines supporting their breasts with hands, from Judah. Terra-cotta, pillar-type (1000–700 b.c.e.), Iron Age. Israel Museum (IDAM), Jerusalem, Israel. Photo credit: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, New York.

1949: pl. 16–17). 31 A unique jar with a high handle, found at LB II Kamid el-Loz, displays a thematically interesting development. Positioned on opposite sides of its rim are two figurines of women supporting their breasts (Hachman 1983: fig. 103). This jar brings to mind a different kind of jar, the anthropomorphic “nursing jar.” A small container with a narrow neck, the nursing jar can be subdivided into two types. Production of one type, sometimes called “femino-form,” was restricted to perhaps half a century in mid-Eighteenth Dynasty Egypt (fig. 13). 32 The femino-form jar took the 31.  For a discussion of Astarte plaque figurines in the Persian period, see Nishiyama and Yoshizawa 1997. 32.  My thanks to Christine Lilyquist for calling my attention to this vessel type.

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Fig. 13.  Figurine vase in the form of a woman and child. Egyptian, New Kingdom, mid-Dynasty 18, 1435–1380 b.c.e. Pottery, red-polished clay, 14 × 5.3 × 8 cm (51⁄2 × 21⁄16 × 31⁄8 in.). Frank B. Bemis Fund, 1985.336. Photograph © 2011, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

shape of a long-haired woman who kneels and holds a child in her lap. Inasmuch as the early Eighteenth Dynasty Ebers Medical Papyrus documents the magical-medicinal use of “the milk of a woman who has given birth to a male child,” scholars have suggested that such vessels served as pharmaceutical containers to hold breast milk (Desroches Noblecourt 1952; Hayes 1959: 195; Brunner-Traut 1970; Robins 1993: 90–91; Romano 1996a; Kaiser 2003: n.  38; see Kaiser 2003 for a discussion of milk in Besjars; see Rand 1970 for the identification of several femino-form jars as representations of midwives). 33 The second type of nursing jar had a long history in Egypt, with examples ranging from the Predynastic to the Hellenistic period. Like the femino-form jar, it was particularly popular in the Eighteenth Dynasty, at which time it was associated with the goddess Hathor (Hornblower 1929: 44– 46, figs. 5–6, pl. 10:3–4; Hölscher 1954: fig. 18). 34 This type of jar is plain with simple arms supporting breasts (fig. 14). Sometimes the breasts are spouted, in the manner of a kernos or similar ritual vessel. On some there are faces in low relief, and on some, necklaces. Eventually, similar vessels were used in

33.  These jars share some characteristics with contemporaneous anthropomorphic jars made of alabaster. The medicinal horn depicted on some of them hints at oils that were added to breast milk, creating a mixture used as a healing ointment for men and women of all ages (Brunner-Traut 1970; Robins 1993: 80, fig. 20; Romano 1996b). A terra-cotta figurine from Chalcolithic Cyprus may illustrate something similar. It shows a seated woman who presses milk from her breasts into a large bowl resting on her lap (Karageorghis 1981: fig. 15). 34.  In Egypt, representations of mother goddesses are found as early as the Predynastic period (Hornblower 1929: 38; Hassan 1998). As a nursing goddess, she remained popular into the Roman period and beyond. According to Egyptian mythology, the goddess Isis not only revived her dead consort Osiris but was also the mother par excellence, as she conceived and nurtured their infant son Horus, manifested as the regnant king. She is first known from the Pyramid and Coffin Texts of the Old Kingdom (Tobin 1991: 193–96). The goddess Hathor first appeared in the Fourth Dynasty, but it was not until the reign of Mentuhotep at the beginning of the Eleventh Dynasty that she was conceptualized as divine nurse to the king (Gillam 1995).

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the Iron Age. One was found in a Philistine favissa at Tel Qasile (Mazar 1980: 78–81, fig. 18, pl. 29; see also Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 106–8); another in an 8th–7thcentury tomb at Ez-Zahiriyye, south of Hebron (Baramki 1934: pl. 64:1; for dating, see Dever 1970); and a third at Beth Shemesh (Grant 1931: pl. 27; and see Nys 1997 for Cypriot examples). A variant was found at 7th-century Ashdod, where one of the figurine’s hands supports one breast while the other rests on its stomach (Dothan and Porath 1982: 37–38, fig. 25:3, pl. 23:1). The LB II Kamid el-Loz jar with its two relief figurines may represent a transitional form, bringing together the nursing jar of the Egyptian Eighteenth Dynasty with the breast-supporting or “Astarte” plaque figurine of contemporary Canaan. Some 900 pillar-based figurines have been found in domestic, funerary, and sacred contexts in Iron II Israel, and especially in 8th–7th-century Judah (fig. 12; Kletter 1996: 30). The prominence of its large breasts is emphasized by the arms that support them and by the simplicity of the lower part of the figurine, which is nothing more than a trumpet-shaped stand. Faces were generic, whether made by hand or in molds. Studies of the pillar-based figurine are too numerous to list in full but include Albright 1939; Pritchard 1943; Patai 1967; Holland 1975; 1977; Engle 1979; Hestrin 1991; Gilbert-Peretz 1996; Kletter 1996; 2001; Keel and Uehlinger 1998; Dever 1994; 2005; Moorey 2003; Byrne 2004. 35 Its identification with the Israelite goddess Asherah is widely accepted (inter alia, Patai 1967; Kletter 1996; Burns 1998; Dever 2005 and references therein; contra: see Merlo 1997; see Dever 2005: 192–96 for a discussion of votive images). Although no infant is ever depicted, scholars have long assumed that the dea nutrix or nursing goddess was used to invoke divine protection and blessing, especially by women in their childbearing years (Albright 1939). The pillar-based figurine represents a unique conf lation of traditional figurative imagery. Both visually and symbolically, it combines elements of the Egyptian anthropomorphic nursing jar and the Canaanite plaque figurine showing a woman supporting her breasts. Breast-holding was symbolic of nursing, an act that represents the culmination of a successful pregnancy and the survival, against formidable odds, of both mother and child. The figurine’s large, full breasts emphasize the concept of “plenty,” which was so important in a society that suffered very real threats to its food supply. Considered from this perspective, it is clear that nursing imagery was of paramount importance, much more so than the “pregnancy” and “holding” imagery discussed above. 36 35.  Many studies of Israelite religion, especially those that investigate the goddess Asherah incorporate discussions of the pillar-based figurine (see, inter alia, Patai 1967; Hadley 2000; Day 2001; van der Toorn 2002; Dever 2005). 36.  For a study of the “lactating breast” in European thinking, see Black (2001: 193). She states that “[t]he allegorical potential of the lactating breast surpasses mere physiological function.” For a discussion of a Sri Lankan ceremony in which the individual is reintegrated into society through a “milk overf lowing ceremony,” see Weeramunda 1982. For an alternate perspective, see Labovitz (2000: 25), who concludes that “the Mishnah’s discussion of nursing gives primacy to the

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Fig. 14.  Nursing jar with spouted breasts. From A. Mazar, Excavations at Tell Qasile, part 1: The Philistine Sanctuary: Architecture and Cult Objects (Qedem 12; Jerusalem: Hebrew University, 1980) pl. 29. Reprinted with the permission of the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

How might the pillar-based figurine have been used? Mesopotamian women beseeched Ninhursaga as Nintu, “Lady of Birth” (Frankfort 1944; see also Moorey 2005: 83, 95–96), and other goddesses as well (Black and Green 1992: 132–33) to protect them during pregnancy and childbirth. In Egypt, women turned to powerful deities including Tawaret/Thoeris and Bes (Romano 1996c), Hathor (Hawass 2000: 85) and Isis for the same reasons ( Janssen and Janssen 1990: fig. 2; Borghouts 1971: 28–31). Jewelry amulets representing Tawaret/Thoeris, Bes, Hathor and Isis-and-Horus were relationship between husband and wife, to the almost complete exclusion of the child and its relationship to the mother.”

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popular at LB II and Iron Age sites in the Levant, indicating that an appeal to divine protection throughout the reproductive process was similarly part of Canaanite and Israelite thinking (McGovern 1985; Markoe 1996; Ornan 2009; for Cyprus, see Bolger 1994: 15). Israelite and Judean women would, of course, have invoked the blessing of their own goddess Asherah even more urgently than they would foreign deities. The image through which they invoked her protection for themselves and for their children while threatened by the dangers inherent in pregnancy, parturition, and infancy was this simple pillar-based breast-holding figurine. For this reason, they had no need of figurines depicting mothers nursing children, which had been popular earlier and which remained popular elsewhere in the ancient Near East. In Cyprus, one consequence of the drastic drop in female longevity between the Neolithic and Chalcolithic periods had been the sudden production of “birthing figurines” and related objects (Bolger 1994). Similarly, the pillar-based figurine was most popular in the eighth-seventh centuries (Kletter 1996: 43–46, 1999: 29), a period of extreme national crisis during which the northern nation of Israel was destroyed and Judah faced Assyrian military attack and population decimation. The proliferation of pillar-based figurines at this point in time must be related to the tensions of the era and to the need for divine assistance in maintaining Judah’s population through the birth and survival of many new babies. 37

Summary Goddesses were understood to transmit the essence of the divine, giving life and sustenance to gods and kings. The simple clay images discussed in this paper, produced efficiently, inexpensively, and in quantity, offered their metaphoric support to those confined to the mortal world. More specifically, they were used to invoke the blessing of goddesses who protected women and their babies from “baby-snatching demons” (Scurlock 1991) and other dangerous forces loose in the world. 38 Some were made in sanctuary precincts and procured by people on pilgrimage, whether for personal reasons or communal celebration. They might have been left behind as votive offerings or taken home to use in domestic and—when things ended badly—funerary rituals. 39 Some were produced by professional potters (Magrill and Middleton 2001: 138) while others were made by nonprofessionals in the village or home. That there is very little information about these figurines and the rituals in which they were used in the vast corpus of ancient texts (including Mesopotamian and Egyptian inscriptions, ritual and mythological tablets from Ugarit and Emar, the Hebrew 37. Byrne (2004) offered a similar conclusion in an article that appeared subsequent to the completion of this paper. See also Kletter 1996: 46; Nakhai 2008. 38.  For magical spells used to protect children in Middle and New Kingdom Egypt, see Parkinson 1991: 129–30. 39. See James and McGovern 1993a: 166 for a discussion of Late Bronze figurines in the temple precinct and domestic quarters at Beth Shan.

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Bible, and more) should come as no surprise. In her study of native Australian religion, R. Gross illuminated aboriginal women’s rich and complex religious culture. Thematically, the focus of their religion was the reproductive process: menstruation, pregnancy, parturition, lactation, and menarche. Women’s religion structurally paralleled that of men but remained virtually unknown to men. Gross concluded that, “[ j]ust as the men’s ceremonies indicate the sacred status and potential of men, so the women’s ceremonies indicate the sacred status and potential of women and not some opposite, ‘profane’ condition” (Gross 1980: 279). The male writers of ancient Near Eastern texts would have been aware of little that went on in women’s religious lives, and they chose not to write about the little bit that they may have actually known. 40 Control over valuable resources helps explain figurine production and the role of women in sacred activities. Figurines made out of gold, silver, bronze, ivory, and semiprecious stones—materials that were expensive to procure and difficult to craft— were produced by highly trained male artisans and used in the service of royal cults. However, nothing about the clay figurines discussed in this paper precludes their having been made by women, 41 and their intended function (to play a critical role within the reproductive spectrum) suggests that this was indeed the case. 42 The locus for production remains uncertain, and few plaque figurines have been found in sanctuaries; rather, they are found in tombs and discard settings (Moorey 2003: 37–38). The same is true for pillar-based figurines, but, of those that are found in primary contexts, the largest quantity comes from domestic quarters (Kletter 1996: 57–63). The house, of course, was home to religious ritual as well as to the quotidian. 43 It is reasonable to project a place in this setting for women who were both ritual experts and skilled ceramic technicians. 44 The many biblical passages that excoriate Judean kings for allowing the worship of Asherah in the Jerusalem temple and vilify the gevira or queen mother for officiating over her cult there (Ackerman 1993) support this contention, at least in the context of Iron Age Israel and Judah. The small and unassuming mother-and-child figurines found in diverse locations from many periods of time illuminate the tensions inherent in pregnancy, birth, and the raising of healthy babies. Sympathetic, protective magic was an important factor in people’s lives throughout the ancient Near East. Its quintessential importance explains the varied settings in which clay figurines were found. Hopes for the future, for health and prosperity, and for the sustenance of the family were invoked through the agency of these small figures. In addition, the very personal importance of the mother-and40.  In the Hebrew Bible, men’s use of the simile of a “woman in travail” ref lects both “their limited knowledge about the birth-giving experience and their fear of death” (Philip 2002: 504). See also Ebeling 2010: 97–111. 41.  For the role of women in pottery production, see London 2000 and references therein. 42.  So too Moorey 1984: 77–78. 43.  For women and domestic or household religion, see Nakhai 2011, forth., and references therein. See Willett 1999 and Zevit 2001: 123–266 for studies of Israelite household shrines. 44.  Midwives and other female healers may have found such images indispensable to their work.

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child figurine, a reminder of the blessings of life, of abundance and hope, and of the divine incarnate must also be considered.

Acknowledgments Versions of this paper were presented at the Society for Biblical Literature Annual Meeting (1995), Sixth Gender and Archaeology Conference (2000), Pacific Coast Region of the Society of Biblical Research Annual Meeting (2001), American Schools of Oriental Research Annual Meeting (2001), Institute for Antiquity and Christianity at Claremont Graduate Union (2004), American Research Center in Egypt Annual Meeting (2004), Feminism and Classics IV: Gender and Diversity in Place Conference (2004), and at regional meetings for the Archaeological Institute of America, Tucson Society (2006), Society for Biblical Literature—Pacific Coast Region (2009), and American Schools of Oriental Research—Pacific Northwest Region (2009). Research for this article was supported by a 2001 Society for Biblical Literature Research and Technology Grant. The author is grateful to the Arizona Center for Judaic Studies for its support in obtaining the rights to images reproduced in the article. The author additionally thanks Izak Cornelius and others, including reviewers and editors who took the time to share their thoughts with me.

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2008 Infant Mortality and Women’s Religion in the Biblical Periods. Pp 79–98 in The World of Women in the Ancient and Classical Near East, ed. B. Alpert Nakhai. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Wilson, V. 1975 The Iconography of Bes with Particular Reference to the Cypriot Evidence. Levant 7: 77–103. Wright, R. P., ed. 1994 Gender and Archaeology. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Zevit, Z. 2001 The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis of Parallactic Approaches. London: Continuum.

The Evolution of the Sacred Area at Tell es-Sultan/Jericho Hani Nur el-Din Institute of Archaeology Al-Quds University

The long life of ancient Jericho, its chronological sequence, and its thick stratigraphic accumulation make it one of the densest archaeological sites known in the Levant. Human occupation at Jericho began in the Natufian period, in the second half of the 11th millennium b.c.e., and continued through the late Islamic period (Marchetti and Nigro 1999: 94). 1 The archaeological evidence from the sacred area at Tell es-Sultan has not been treated adequately or synthesized properly within the context of its continuous evolution. During Garstang’s fifth and sixth seasons of excavations in 1935–36 in the northeastern part of Tell es-Sultan, and again in Kenyon’s renewed excavations in the same trench in 1952, material culture evidence of religious practices (both architectural and artifactual) was recovered (see, respectively, Garstang, Ben-Dor, and FitzGerald 1936: 67–76; Kenyon 1952: 72; 1981: 267–404) (see fig. 1 below). This evidence, however, has not been treated within a single chronological and spatial context to show the continuity of a sacred area at Tell es-Sultan from the Natufian period through the end of the Early Bronze Age. This essay is based on information contained in the reports of Garstang, Droop, and Crowfoot; Garstang, Ben-Dor, and FitzGerald; and Kenyon—from their respective excavations in the northeastern trench on the tell. It reexamines the material from the sacred area excavated in Garstang’s Squares E7–E8 and in Kenyon’s Squares EI, EII, and EV, which are at the bottom of Garstang’s trench in Square E7 (Sala 2006: 267). It is a challenging task, given the longevity of this area at Tell es-Sultan; spanning the Natufian period (11th millennium b.c.e.) through the Neolithic period and continuing into the Early Bronze Age (end of the 3rd millennium b.c.e.; Sala 2006: 271, table 1). 1.  The chronological sequence of the site of Jericho has long been a subject of discussion, since the first excavations were conducted by an Austro-German team at the beginning of the 20th century and to this day (see Sala 2006: 267, with references).

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Fig. 1.  Map of Tell es-Sultan / ancient Jericho. After Kenyon 1981: fig. 1.

The first issue relates to the existence of a sacred area in this part of the mound, its original nature, and its evolution. Was its use limited to one period only, or did it span multiple periods? By what means can we identify the area as “sacred”? How is

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Fig. 2.  Kenyon’s Stage XI Phase Xliii represents the eighth phase of the PPNB and correlates with his deep sounding Level XVII. Redrawn by Ibrahim Iqtait after Kenyon 1981: pl. 311a; and Garstang, BenDor, and FitzGerald 1936: pl. 28..

the sacred revealed archaeologically? In other words, how is religion translated into archaeological data or, conversely, how does one interpret the practice of religion from the data (see Margueron 1991: 1104–22; 1997: 165; Huot 1998: 15–20; Nakhai 1997: 169)? These questions are basic to the discussion concerning the sacred area at Tell es-Sultan. In addressing the issue of the sacred area in archaeology, Margueron states that Le sacré, en effect, n’existe que dans la mesure où certains hommes confèrent à un objet ou à un lieu cette dimension: pour les autres, ce lieu ou cet objet ne se distingue en rien du monde environnant. . . . Autrement dit, si les hommes de cette société ont su nous transmettre d’une façon ou d’une façon d’une autre leur pensée sur ce point, nous pourrons plus facilement retrouver leur sacré. (Margueron 1998: 22) Furthermore, “dans les Néolithique que l’on voit apparaître ces images symboliques sous forme de figurines humaines ou animales, de gravures et de peintures” (Margueron 1998: 23). In this essay, I attempt to find an approach to understanding the sacred area at Jericho that takes into consideration the significance of its location, development, and function and to understand how these elements may ref lect religious practices during the various periods at the site. It is clear from the plans and sections of Garstang’s excavations in the northeastern corner of the mound (where he opened an east–west trench intersecting the area excavated by Sellin in the early 1900s) and Kenyon’s Squares EI, EII, and EV (Garstang, Droop, and Crowfoot 1935: pls. 23–26, 52–54; 1936: pl. 28; Kenyon 1981: pls. 144– 73, 299–312) that this was the original location of the sacred area and the spot where it subsequently developed over the millennia (fig. 1). In fitting together Garstang’s and Kenyon’s southern sections of the northeastern trench, Kenyon’s Stage XIV Phase Lxi of the Pre-Pottery Neolithic B (PPNB) in Squares EI, EII, and EV extends westward

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and connects with Garstang’s Level XI farther to the west, and her Stage XI Phase Xliii, representing the eighth phase of the PPNB correlates with his deep sounding Level XVII (see fig. 2 above; Garstang, Ben-Dor, and FitzGerald 1936: pl. 28; Kenyon 1981: pl. 311; see also Sala 2006: 271, table 1). The first indications of a cultic function at this spot were noted by Kenyon: In this area basic limestone was in its natural state covered by a layer of clay about a foot thick. Over most of the area excavated this clay had been removed by man, and the surface of the limestone exposed. But at the west end of the excavated area, a rectangle of the clay, 3.50 metres broad and more than 6.50 metres long, had been left, and had been enclosed by a substantial wall of stones, with wooden posts set in the wall at intervals. This structure was quite unlike any dwelling-house found on the site. Moreover, there were two other noteworthy features. Built into the wall were two large stone blocks, which had had holes bored right through them, the total depth of the holes being about 2 feet 6 inches (0.77 m). A third block, broken in half, lay beside them. They had obviously been intended to hold posts, and from their resemblance to f lag-pole sockets, one is tempted to suggest that they held totem-poles, the primitive equivalent to f lag-poles. Secondly, though the adjacent rock surface was covered with debris and rubbish, the surface of the clay platform had been kept scrupulously clean throughout the time it was used. It is therefore possible that this curious structure was a sanctuary or some kind of holy place. (Kenyon 1979: 24; see also 1981: 268, 271–73, pl. 299:a) This area with its special structure apparently continued in use from ca. 9140 (± 90 years) b.c.e., as dated by charcoal found within its burnt layer, until its final and complete destruction at the end of the Mesolithic period as defined by Kenyon—that is, about 8500 b.c.e. 2 Within this time span, the presence of several phases point to renovations of the platform structure (Kenyon 1979: 24–25; 1981: 272–74). Kenyon’s plans and sections clearly show that the area of the Mesolithic structure was in use during her Proto-Neolithic period Stage III (Kenyon 1981: 274–75). From Kenyon’s PPNA Stages IV–VI, some 24 main building phases can be identified, characterized by their typical round or curvilinear construction, with the walls composed of stone foundations and a superstructure of plano-convex bricks. The f loors were composed of mud plaster, usually carried up the inner face of the wall as a coating; and the buildings often had a f loor made up of angular cobbles (Kenyon 1981: 275–81, pls.  299:b–301:b). A foundation infant-sacrificial burial, as interpreted by Kenyon, was found in Stage IV House E4 beneath the built socket of a roof support (Kenyon 1981: 275–76, pl. 147:b). There was a break in the use of the area between Kenyon’s 2.  For the correlations between Kenyon’s and Garstang’s dating of archaeological periods and the current chronological equivalents used in the Italian-Palestinian excavations, see Sala 2006: 271.

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PPNA Stages VI–VIII and the PPNB. This was indicated by a stream bed that ran through the area in Stage IX, as seen by the ca. 1.15 m deep by 5 m wide channel filled with rubble, gravel, and silt. It is noteworthy that some human adult skeletons were recovered in Building I to the south of the stream bed (Kenyon 1981: 284–87, pl. 303:a) Kenyon’s plans show that the sacred place evolved through its various stages of construction and development with clear boundaries delimiting the sacred from the secular, as demonstrated by the Mesolithic sanctuary dating to around the middle of the 11th millennium. After the gap in Stage IX, the sacred function of the area continued in PPNB, as indirectly indicated by the sacrificial foundation burials in several phases and the plaster moldings found in one of the rooms in Stage X (Kenyon 1981: 290, pl. 72). Kenyon’s PPNB Stages X–XV (which she dates to the second part of the 8th millennium and to a large part of the 7th millennium b.c.e.) has 15 main building phases total. These are characterized by the rectangular, multiroom plans of the structures and well-finished plastered and burnished f loors (Kenyon 1981: 289–308, pls. 305–11; see also Kuijt 1995: 93–105). The western buildings in Square EI demonstrate the development of the sacred area structures over time, beginning with Kenyon’s Stage XI (Kenyon 1981: pl. 113:a), which corresponds to Garstang’s Level XVII in the same trench (Garstang, Droop, and Crowfoot 1935: pls. 25–26). The buildings in Square EI in Stages XI–XV can be correlated with those excavated by Garstang to the west of Kenyon’s Square EI (see Garstang, Droop, Crowfoot 1935: pls. 25–26, 52, 54; 1936: pls. 28, 40–41; Kenyon 1981: pls. 304:a–309). Kenyon’s Stages XIII–XV include several phases from the PPNB that show clear evidence of the existence of a sacred area. In Stage XIII, a transitional period, the continuity of the sanctuary area of Kenyon’s Mesolithic and PPNA periods is represented by the nucleus of a proto-temple that clearly functioned as a temple in the following stage (Kenyon 1981: pls. 306–308:a). The Stage XIII Phases Li and Lii room formed by Walls E170, E169, E166, and E166 contained a human skull incorporated into Wall 169 (Kenyon 1981: pl. 306:b). The clear function of the sacred area as represented by a substantial temple is evident in Kenyon’s Stage XIV Phase Lxiv (1981: 306–7, pls. 172–73, 308:a), which can be correlated with Garstang’s “Megaron” building (Garstang et al. 1936: 69, pl. 41). This complex could in fact have been part of a large sanctuary (Kenyon 1981: pls. 308:c–309:a), with an oblong building on its western side and its eastern extension comprising the room Kenyon designated a “shrine.” This putative shrine opened onto a courtyard, as did other rooms identified in the eastern part of Trench E. According to Kenyon, this substantial building continues through the rest of the levels in Squares EI, EII, and EV. To draw a complete picture of the sacred area, we must correlate all the data from Kenyon’s Stages XIV–XV in Squares EI, EII, and EV with Garstang’s data, for its western part contains the main elements of this sacred area. It should be emphasized

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that the oblong building in the sacred area continued in use through Garstang’s Levels XI–XVII (Garstang, Ben-Dor, and FitzGerald 1936: 69–73). This building (Garstang’s “Megaron”) consisted of six wooden postholes in the portico, a wide antechamber, and a large inner chamber. It had a forecourt with several very small rooms containing trap openings, which Garstang interpreted as a sheep pen. Inside the building, baked and unbaked clay figurines representing domesticated animals (cows, sheep, pigs, and possibly also a dog) were found, as well as other modeled objects (a cobra head, male genitalia, small cones, and one object resembling a pillow). Burials were also found in the vicinity of this building, including a complete adult male skeleton with a large stone placed on top of it. According to Garstang, the man’s neck was broken, and it looked as though his head had been twisted around, perhaps because he was caught in the act of stealing temple offerings. The skull of another adult male was also discovered in the vicinity of this building, and a child burial was found between its f loors (Garstang and Garstang 1948: 48–58). In the western part of Kenyon’s Square EI, the space between Wall E200 on the south, Wall E203 on the west, and Wall E202 on the east was closed off in the last phases of Stage XIV in order to create a new space for ceremonial purposes (Kenyon 1981: 306–7, pl. 308:c; see also 1952: 62; 1957: 58–59; Wright 1970: 20, 24). In addition, the blocking of Wall E214 was thickened to increase its width to match that of Wall E203, and the new eastern face of Wall E215 was curved to form a small niche. A f lat, unworked stone slab (ca. 0.24 × 0.20 m and 0.07 m thick) was found in the niche, resting on a small pillar of earth. The back of the niche was covered with yellow plaster but was not burnished. According to Kenyon, the stone slab was clearly intended to serve as a pedestal for something that stood in the niche, almost certainly a cultic object that was worshiped in this small shrine, and the space perhaps served as a private chapel in a house (Kenyon 1981: 307, pls. 172–173:a). Under the brick fill beneath the building in Square EI, Kenyon found a foundation burial of two sacrificed infants lying prone with their legs f lexed to the side, as well as the incomplete and disarticulated skeleton of an adult and the cranium of an elderly man carefully placed upright in the corner of a room, ca. 15 cm. below the f loor level (Kenyon 1981: 305, pl. 171). The use of this sacred area with some modifications was clear through all the phases of Stage XIV. According to Kenyon, Phase Lxiv—the last phase of Stage XIV in Squares EI, EII, and EV—was separated from Phase Lxv of Stage XV by another major destruction, represented by a thick brick fill in Square EI that contained another infant burial (1981: 308). The level Kenyon reached in this area, Phase Lxv of Stage XV, is the equivalent of Garstang’s Level XI, the lowest level in his trench. Earlier deposits (Levels XII–XVII) were investigated only in his deep sounding, measuring 7.50 × 7 m at the top to less than 2 sq. m. at the base (Sala 2006: 272–73). Kenyon’s Phase Lxv of Stage XV has a plan similar to that of the previous period. Throughout PPNB, ca. 7500–6000 b.c.e. according to the current dating system, the sacred area was represented by a complex of structures extending from west to east

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in the areas excavated by both Garstang and Kenyon, including the “Major Temple” complex with its annex, shrine, courtyards, and other rooms. Kenyon excavated a building, in her PPNB Stages XVI–XVII in Trench I Squares FI, DI, and DII in the western part of the tell that she suggested could be a temple, although its attribution to a religious function was uncertain (1981: 11–12, pls. 220–21). Kenyon noted that the construction technique and style of the walls seemed to be similar to the building in Squares EI, EII, and EV, which she described as comprising a large rectangular room . . . about six metres in one direction and more than four metres . . . in the other. In its centre, neatly aligned on the walls, was a little basin. The f loor, walls and basin were all covered with the usual fine, highly burnished plaster, which in the neighbourhood of the basin was strongly scorched by fire. At each end of the rectangular central room were annexes of a curious rounded plan, with walls curving inwards in elevation, as if to form domes. She adds, “This building is so unusual in plan, and with this suggestion of ceremonial in the central basin, that we are inclined to suggest that it was a temple. Even if its use was not religious, it was almost certainly a public building, which is also of interest” (Kenyon 1957: 59). Among the objects found in this building were animal and human figurines that Kenyon interpreted as having a fertility function. A group of seven plastered skulls with shells sealing the eyes were also found here, specifically in Square DI (Kenyon 1957: 62; 1981: pls. 50–59). These findings, with their cultic connotations, could be interpreted as indicating the introduction of some form of ancestor worship during part of the PPNB. At the same time, it is uncertain whether this area continued in use through the later Neolithic period (Kenyon 1957: 62). 3 The sacred area can be traced through the subsequent periods in Levels X–III of Garstang’s northeastern trench, which he dated from the middle Neolithic through early EB III (Garstang, Droop, and Crowfoot 1935: 167–68, pls. 25–26; 1936: 70– 74, pl. 28). He found that the Megaron had been reconstructed seven times, going back to his Level X. It is evident that the sacred area existed at the western limits of the trench, represented by Rooms 202 and 208 in the later phases of Level X (1936: 70) and in Level IX (1935: 167–68, pls. 52–54). Room 202 yielded clay statues, carefully smoothed and treated with a drab or reddish pigment (Garstang, Droop, and Crowfoot 1935: pl. 53). Thus, it appears that Garstang’s Level IX in this part of the trench represents the sacred area in the Pottery Neolithic period at Jericho. Also from this period is the model of a building found in Room 216. This was interpreted by Garstang as the model of a Neolithic shrine 3.  There is also an indication that there were buildings in Kenyon’s Square MI under the Middle PPNB/Late PPNB residential structures; these structures were identified by Kuijt as a “Megaron” (Kujit 1995: 94–95).

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(Garstang, Ben-Dor, and FitzGerald 1936: pl. 40:a). In his late Neolithic period Level VIII, Garstang found two superimposed f loors constructed in the same style as those of the preceding periods (1936: 72). The cultic area in the northeastern trench can be traced through Garstang’s Levels VII–III, which he dated to the EB I, EB II, and early EB III. A broad-room building, labeled by Garstang as a small shrine of Babylonian character is dated to the EB I. Garstang describes it as a chamber with a relatively large dais at one end, and continuous mastaba seats against the walls, which draw together somewhat toward the east, the entrance being at this end toward the north. Dais, walls, seats, f loors and doorway were all carefully plastered, and the spot seems to have been separated from the other buildings uncovered in this layer by a stouter wall than usual. In the vicinity, and belonging to this stratum, were found several cult objects, notably a small libation altar, and also a remarkable stone object 68 cms high, shaped and smoothed, possibly a prototype of the Mazzebah, and presumably a central symbol of the cult. (Garstang, Ben-Dor, and FitzGerald 1936: 73–74, pl. 41; see also Garstang and Garstang 1948: 70–72) In general, we can assume that Kenyon’s Area E, the northeastern trench at Jericho, represents the major sacred area of the settlement. This sacred area emerged and developed over a long span of time beginning in the Natufian period around the middle of the 11th millennium b.c.e. The sacred place was properly defined as a sanctuary beginning in the PPNB, with the construction of a temple complex. It continued in use, with several alterations to the building and various sacrificial burials, from the Neolithic period through the Early Bronze Age. It is also important to note that, while a cultic place could have existed in the western part of the town during several phases in the PPNB, its continuity through the later periods is unclear. In conclusion, it is difficult to define precisely the nature of the cultic practice over this long period of time at Jericho. The sacred area may have been related to the worship of a deity, but whether it was dedicated to the moon god, as Garstang suggested in discussing the “Megaron,” or to other divinities or cults is unclear (see Garstang and Garstang 1948: 48–52). This issue requires more detailed study, including comparative research on the development of the sacred area during the Neolithic period at Jericho and at other sites in the northern and southern Levant, such as Ain Ghasal, not far from Jericho (Rollefson 2001: 84–85), Beida (Kirkbide 1968: 95–96), and Basta (Gebel, Muheisen, and Nissen 1988). At the same time, an examination of the continuity of cultic practice at Jericho should be taken beyond the Early Bronze Age into the later periods as well, through a synthetic analysis of the excavation reports and the research conducted at the site over the past 70 years.

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Bibliography Garstang, J.; Ben-Dor, I.; and FitzGerald, G. M. 1936 Jericho: City and Necropolis (Report for the Sixth and Concluding Season, 1936). Liverpool Annals of Archaeology and Anthropology 23: 67–100. Garstang, J.; Droop, J. P.; and Crowfoot, J. 1935 Jericho: City and Necropolis (Fifth Report). Liverpool Annals of Archaeology and Anthropology 22: 143–84. Garstang, J., and Garstang, J. B. E. 1948 The Story of Jericho. London: Hodder & Stoughton. Gebel, H. G.; Muheisen, M.; and Nissen, H. J. 1988 Preliminary Report on the First Season of Excavations at Basta. Pp. 109–17 in The Prehistory of Jordan: The State of Research in 1986, ed. A. N. Garrard and H. G. Gebel. British Archaeological Reports International Series 396. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Huot, J. L. 1998 Enquete sur les premieres temples. Le Monde de la Bible 113: 15–20. Kenyon, K. M. 1952 Excavations at Jericho, 1952. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 85: 62–81. 1957 Digging up Jericho: The Results of the Jericho Excavations, 1952–1956. New York: Praeger. 1979 Archaeology in the Holy Land. 4th ed. London: Benn. 1981 Excavations at Jericho III: The Architecture and Stratigraphy of the Tell. London: British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem. Kirkbide, D. 1968 Beida 1967: An Interim Report. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 100: 90–96. Kuijt, I. 1995 New Perspectives on Old Territories: Ritual Practices and the Emergence of Social Complexity in the Levantine Neolithic. Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University. Marchetti, N., and Nigro, L. 1999 Jericho. Dossiers d’Archéologie 240 (L’Archéologie Palestinienne): 90–123. Margueron, J.-C. 1991 Sanctuaire Semitique. Cols. 1104–1258 in Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible 64B–65, ed. L. Pirot, A. Robert, H. Cazelles, A. Feuillet, J. Briendt, and E. Cotthenet. Paris: Letouzey & Ané. 1997 Temples, Mesopotamian. Pp. 165–69 in vol. 5 of The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, ed. E. M. Meyers. 5 vols. New York: Oxford University Press. 1998 Genèse de l’éxistence des lieu saints. Le Monde de la Bible 113: 22–27. Nakhai, B. A. 1997 Temples, Syro-Palestinian. Pp. 169–74 in vol. 5 of The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, ed. E. M. Meyers. 5 vols. New York: Oxford University Press. Rollefson, G. O. 2001 The Neolithic Period. Pp. 67–105 in The Archaeology of Jordan, ed. B. MacDonald, R. Adams, and P. Bienkowski. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Sala, M. 2006 Garstang’s North-eastern Trench: Archaeological Evidences and Potential. Pp.  267–87 in Tell es-Sultan/Jericho in the Context of the Jordan Valley: Site Management, Conservation, and Sustainable Development, ed. L. Nigro and H. Taha. Studies on the Archaeology of Palestine and Jordan 2. Rome: Università di Roma “La Sapienza.” Wright, G. R. H. 1970 Pre-Israelite Temples in the Land of Canaan. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 102: 17–32.

“Ashdod Ware” from Ekron Stratum IV: Degenerated and Late Philistine Decorated Ware Steven M. Ortiz The Tandy Institute for Archaeology, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary

One of the unique ceramic corpuses of the Iron Age IIA period along the coastal plain is “Ashdod Ware.” 1 This was first defined by Moshe Dothan at his excavations in Ashdod (Dothan and Freedman 1967: 130–31). A recent comprehensive study has refined this corpus, and the authors have proposed renaming it “Late Philistine Decorated Ware” (Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004). This corpus has major implications for the Iron Age chronology debate and cultural shifts of the Iron Age I and II transition. This paper will focus on the “Late Philistine Decorated Ware” of Tel Miqne– Ekron and its contribution to the study by Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir. 2

History of Philistine Ceramic Research The so-called Philistine bichrome pottery has been the hallmark for identifying the Philistines. The monumental task of analyzing this ceramic phenomenon was completed by Trude Dothan, who developed the framework for the standard Philistine ceramic typology. In her study, Dothan introduced three stages of Philistine ceramic development. 3 The Philistine ceramic sequences were further developed with the excavations of Tel Qasile, particularly the well-stratified ceramic database of the Author’s note: Sy Gitin’s lifetime of work on the Iron Age II–III ceramic horizon of the southern coastal plain, particularly his major contributions and work at the sites of Tel Gezer and Tel Miqne– Ekron, have provided a foundation for excavators working in the southern Levant (Gitin 1990). Many scholars have relied on his meticulous analysis for their own work on ceramic assemblages, this author included. Another contribution is his work on processes of cultural change as evidenced in the archaeological record (Gitin 1998). It is fitting to honor him with a discussion of a ceramic assemblage from Tel Miqne–Ekron that has a bearing on ceramic chronology and cultural change. 1. I am using the modified chronology of Mazar and Herzog Singer-Avitz 2.  I am here adopting the new term Late Philistine Decorated Ware instead of the common Ashdod Ware. 3.  Phase 1: beginning with the last quarter of the 12th century; Phase 2: last quarter of the 12th to the middle of the 11th; second half of the 11th to the beginning of the 10th century.

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Fig. 1.  LPDW forms: bowls and kraters. After Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004: 4, fig. 1. Reproduced with the permission of the American Schools of Oriental Research.

“Ashdod Ware” from Ekron Stratum IV

Fig. 2.  LPDW forms: jars and amphorae. After Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004: 6, fig. 2. Reproduced with the permission of the American Schools of Oriental Research.

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Fig. 3.  LPDW forms: jugs and varia. After Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004: 8, fig. 3. Reproduced with the permission of the American Schools of Oriental Research.

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three superimposed temples (Strata XII–X; Mazar 1985). Concurrent with the publications of Tell Qasile, the excavations of Tel Miqne commenced and provided new data on the arrival of the Philistines, particularly the initial phase of the Philistine monochrome (Mycenean IIIC:1b). Today, the major framework of the Iron I Philistine ceramic typology is defined as most are familiar with the standard monochrome to bichrome to red-slip burnished sequence and the various subphases. This sequence continues to be confirmed as most Philistine sites exhibit the same phases of Philistine decorative elements. Nevertheless, emphasis has been placed on the “classic” phases of the Philistine ceramic assemblages (e.g., monochrome and bichrome), while the last phase, “degenerate” red slip, has not been emphasized, even with the current chronological debate of the Low Chronology—especially the 10th-century-ceramic horizon. In addition to defining ceramic seriation, research on Philistine material culture has focused on developing processual explanations, such as assimilation and acculturation to explain changes in the Philistine material culture (Gitin 1992; Stone 1995). Although scholars have looked at other aspects of the material culture (e.g., Ben-Shlomo 2010), the classic Philistine pottery of Iron Age I and Iron Age IIB horizons has been the impetus for the model building and explanation of Philistine culture. Research trends have now shifted focus to what A. Maeir calls the “middle phase” of Philistine culture—basically the 10th- and 9th-century b.c.e. cultural horizon.

Philistine Pottery: Iron Age II (“Middle Phase”) M. Dothan and N. Freedman were the first to identify the Philistine pottery of the Iron Age II. They found a unique type of pottery that they termed “Ashdod Ware” during their excavations at Tel Ashdod in the 1960s (Dothan and Freedman 1967: 130–31). They noted that it resembled red on black Cypro-Phoenician Ware with its black decoration on red-burnished slip, but that it was nevertheless a distinct ceramic form (Dothan and Freedman 1967: 130–31; Dothan 1971: 113). Trude Dothan’s work has focused on the Iron Age I ceramic horizon—the height of the classic Philistine bichrome pottery. Dothan did recognize a final phase that she called “degenerate” Philistine pottery. It was dated to the 11th–10th century b.c.e. and characterized by a red-slip and burnished exterior, black paint, and the cessation of bichrome decoration. She placed the Ashdod Ware in this final phase. 4 Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir (2004) have recently expanded Dothan’s three-stage development by separating the unique Ashdod Ware into a fourth stage. While Ashdod Ware has been found at a variety of sites since first identified at the excavations at Ashdod, there has not been a systemic study of this assemblage until the work carried out by Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir (2004). As a result of their research on this important corpus of the southern coastal plain, they have termed this assemblage Late Philistine Decorated Ware. They note that its unique decorative style can be 4.  Her third phase; see n. 3

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Fig. 4.  LPDW forms: Stratum IV amphorae and jugs (adapted from Zuckerman, Dothan, and Gitin, in press).

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Type

Reg. No.

Locus

Description

1.

Amphora

IVNW8.259.26

8025

Red slip with black and white painted bands on body.

2.

Amphora

IVNW24.120.14

24021

Red slip with black and white painted bands on body.

3.

Amphora

IVNW6.258.17

8025

Red slip with black and white painted bands on body.

4.

Amphora

IVNW24.129.14

24021

Red slip with black and white painted bands on body.

5.

Jug

IVNW24.195.24

24035

Red slip with black and white painted bands on exterior.

6.

Jug

IVNW24.195.5

34035

Red slip on exterior with black and white lines on the neck.

7.

Jug

IVNW23.283.6

25074

Red slip, brown core

8.

Jug

IVNW197.33

9013

Red slip exterior with black and white bands on body.

systematically defined and regarded as one of the most indicative decorative features of the Iron II pottery repertoire in the southern Levant, particularly in the coastal plain region (2004: 2). Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir provide a complete chronological, typological, and distribution analysis of Late Philistine Decorated Ware. They date this pottery to the 10th and 9th centuries (2004: 28) and establish its distribution as the southern coastal plain. The Late Philistine Decorated Ware categorization is based on four criteria: (1) Iron Age IIA coastal forms; (2) thick, dark-red slip; (3) meticulous, vertical hand burnish; and (4) painted black and/or white decoration (usually bands; Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004: 2). Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir note that their Late Philistine Decorated Ware typology is based on two characteristics: form and decoration. They differentiate the vessels that belong to their streamlined typology (which includes coastal forms) and their extended typology, which includes vessels with the Late Philistine Decorated Ware decorative elements that are not typical southern forms. Examples of vessels in their streamlined typology are kraters (fig. 1:4–8), amphorae (fig. 2:3–4), jars (fig. 2:1), jugs (fig. 3:1–3), and juglets (fig. 3:7). Examples of vessels that are decorated in the Late Philistine Decorated Ware but are not coastal forms are bowls (fig. 1:1–3), kraters (fig. 1:9, 10), bottles and amphoriskoi (fig. 2:2, 5, 6), jugs (fig. 3:4–6), and specialty vessels (fig. 3:8–11). Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir discuss 18 sites in their article in the regions of the southern coastal plain, the Judean foothills (Shephelah), as well as the Negev and a site in the Sinai (Kuntillut Ajrud). Their distribution map of Late Philistine Decorated Ware pottery includes 28 sites (5 in the north), demonstrating that their research included all sites with Late Philistine Decorated Ware. In addition, they did an archaeometric analysis of 50 vessels from Tell es-Safi and Tel Ashdod, of which over half were Late Philistine Decorated Ware vessels. Their study has conclusively demonstrated that the Late Philistine Decorated Ware assemblage is local to Philistia and that there was some trade between Tel Ashdod and Tell es-Safi/Gath.

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Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV Corpus Stratigraphically and historically, Stratum IV represents the last phase of the Philistine occupation and expansion of Ekron. The final phase of the Philistine Megaron Temple/Administrative Complex (Building 350) and the Administrative Buildings associated with the Southern Gate Administrative Complex provided the majority of the pottery. Building 350 consists of a large complex with a large pillared hall with three rooms. Most of the complete vessels come from these rooms (Dothan and Gitin 2008: 1952–58). The Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV ceramic corpus dates to the 11th–10th-century transition. It is contemporary with Qasile X, Gezer X, and Ashdod X. I conducted a complete analysis of this corpus (Ortiz 2000). The main distinguishing mark of the Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV assemblage is the transition from the hallmark Philistine bichrome pottery to the red-slip and burnished pottery of the Iron II. One of the assemblages in the Stratum IV ceramic corpus is a group of jugs and amphorae that are decorated in the Ashdod Ware tradition.

Stratum IV Jugs and Amphorae Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV jugs are classified into two major groups: plain jugs with no slip (one is painted), with handles from rim to shoulder; and black and white decorated jugs (covered with a slip and painted with black and white lines) of Ashdod Ware ( Jug Types 4 and 5; figs. 5:12; 4:1–4). Both groups contain a variety of forms: wide-neck, trefoil, spouted, and jugs with thin necks. The most popular jug is the wide neck, including the trefoil rim. Jugs represent just over 6% of the assemblage (n = 79). All Ashdod Ware jugs were either trefoil-rim or spouted jugs. Jug Type 5 (fig. 4:5) is a trefoil-mouth jug decorated with red slip and black and white strips around the body. It is globular in shape with a straight neck and a thickened inverted rim with a ridge on the exterior. It has a pinched form trefoil mouth with a handle from rim to shoulder. Its handle is oval with three ridges. Several jug fragments were identified in the database. This group of jug sherds includes two trefoil high-neck jugs and several decorated body and base fragments of Ashdod Ware (see Ortiz 2000: fig. 4:8, 9, 16). The Tel Miqne Stratum IV corpus does not have any complete amphorae, although several complete rims were excavated (fig. 4:14). 5 Amphorae represent fewer than 1% of the Tel Miqne Stratum IV corpus (0.4%, n = 6). Even within this small sample size, several variations in rim were noticed in the assemblage. As in the case of the jugs, there are two groups of amphorae: plain and decorated with red slip and black and white painted bands. All the amphorae except one were found in a single room of the Megaron Temple (Ortiz 2000: 198).

5.  It is possible that these rims belong to jugs because no evidence of handles was found.

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Late Philistine Decorated Ware and Tel Miqne–Ekron Although I did not extensively discuss this in my analysis, I originally identified only two vessels as belonging to Ashdod Ware (now termed Late Philistine Decorated Ware): Jug Type 6 (fig. 4:8) and Amphorae Type 1 (fig. 4:1–4). Now that there has been an extensive study of this corpus, Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir (2004: 13) conclude that Tel Miqne–Ekron has eight Late Philistine Decorated Ware (Ashdod Ware) vessels. They arrive at this number by including vessels that have the black and white painted bands but only have red slip without the burnishing. Jug Type 6 is the only vessel that fits the Late Philistine Decorated Ware criteria of Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir. All the other vessels considered Late Philistine Decorated Ware by Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir have the black and white painted decoration on a red slip without any burnishing. It is now clear that according to the criteria of Late Philistine Decorated Ware proposed by Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir, only one vessel ( Jug Type 6, fig. 4:8) and some isolated sherds (Ortiz 2000: fig. 4:16) fit their category. In addition, this vessel appears to be a new jug type of the Late Philistine Decorated Ware, because it does not fit any of the forms of their typology (see figs. 1–3). The question is whether to classify one Late Philistine Decorated Ware type as being without burnishing, or to consider the Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV so-called Late Philistine Decorated Ware assemblage to be representing an earlier phase. I propose including in the Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV corpus two stages of the Late Philistine Decorated Ware. The first stage represents vessels that have the black and white band painting on a red slip. The second phase is the Late Philistine Decorated Ware as defined by Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir and dated to the 9th–8th centuries b.c.e. I reject their proposal that the Tel Miqne–Ekron IV Ashdod Ware should be contemporary with the Late Philistine Decorated Ware of Tell es-Safi. Noteworthy is that Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir (2004: 16) had already made this observation. They conjectured that the Qasile pottery corpus might represent two stages of Late Philistine Decorated Ware. The first stage is part of the degenerate Philistine phase that they referenced as “Philistine Red Slip” pottery. The Tel Miqne–Ekron so-called Ashdod Ware is contemporary with the Qasile ceramic assemblage and not the Late Philistine Decorated Ware that Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir have proposed. This is also supported by the recent excavations at Khirbet Qeiyafa (Garfinkel and Ganor 2009). A recent study of the Khirbet Qeiyafa pottery corpus shows a similar assemblage of Ashdod Ware consisting of red slip and black and white band decoration. Of the Khirbet Qeiyafa Ashdod Ware assemblage, only one vessel is hand burnished (Kang and Garfinkel 2009: 135; fig. 6.22.4). The excavators also conclude that the Late Philistine Decorated Ware at Tell es-Safi is a later phenomenon (Kang and Garfinkel 2009: 146). 6 Kang and Garfinkel (2009) propose a new term: Middle Philistine Decorated Ware. They propose two additional phases of Philistine pottery after Dothan’s Debased 6.  Erroneously referred to as late Decorated Philistine Ware by Kang and Garfinkel.

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Philistine Style: Ashdod Ware I (Middle Philistine Decorated Ware), which dates to the second half of the 11th century and during the 10th century b.c.e.; and Ashdod Ware II (Late Philistine Decorated Ware; Kang and Garfinkel 2009: 158).

Summary The Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV assemblage demonstrates that the Philistine ceramic corpus is imprinted by the ethnic, political, and cultural complexity of the Iron Age I–II. This is a typical transitional ceramic horizon that exhibits trends that were common in the earlier century (Iron Age I) that were now going out of use and new trends that became dominant in the following century (Iron Age II). One of the specific trends that became dominant in the Iron Age II is standardization. While Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir (2004) are correct in their analysis of the Late Philistine Decorated Ware for the southern Philistine sites, Tel Miqne–Ekron’s Late Philistine Decorated Ware appears to represent an earlier tradition of the Late Philistine Decorated Ware that made its first appearance in the 11th-10th-century transition. This ceramic tradition is similar to the classic Late Philistine Decorated Ware but lacks the vertical burnishing and red slip with black and white painted decoration (which is the classical Late Philistine Decorated Ware of the 10th and 9th century). It appears that what was tentatively proposed as an earlier phase of Late Philistine Decorated Ware (Ben-Shlomo, Shai, and Maeir 2004: 16) is probably an actual phase. At this point, only Qasile Stratum X, Khirbet Qeiyafa, and Tel Miqne–Ekron Stratum IV have produced ceramic evidence of this phase of the Late Philistine Decorated Ware corpus. Perhaps with the publication of Ashkelon’s pottery and the current excavations at Tell es-Safi, more of this initial phase of the Late Philistine Decorated Ware will come to light.

Bibliography Aharoni, Y. 1973 Beer-Sheba I: Excavations at Tel Beer-Sheba, 1969–1971 Seasons. Publications of the Institute of Archaeology 2. Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology, Tel Aviv University. Ben-Shlomo, D. 2010 Philistine Iconography: A Wealth of Style and Symbolism. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 241. Fribourg: Academic Press / Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Ben-Shlomo, D.; Shai, I.; and Maeir, A. M. 2004 Late Philistine Decorated Ware (“Ashdod Ware”): Typology, Chronology, and Production Centers. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 335: 1–35. Dothan, M., and Freedman, D. N. 1967 Ashdod I: The First Season of Excavation 1962. ʿAtiqot 7. Jerusalem: Department of Antiquities and Museums. Dothan, T. 1982 The Philistines and Their Material Culture. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

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Dothan, T., and Gitin, S. 2008 Tel Miqne–Ekron. Pp. 1952–58 in the sup. vol. of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. Ephraim Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Garfinkel, Y., and Ganor, S. 2009 Khirbet Qeiyafa. vol. 1: Excavation Report 2007–2008. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Gitin, S. 1990 Gezer III: A Ceramic Typology of the Late Iron II, Persian and Hellenistic Periods at Tell Gezer. Jerusalem: Nelson Glueck School of Biblical Archaeology. 1997 Late Philistine. Pp. 311–13 in vol. 4 of The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, ed. E. Meyers. 5 vols. New York: Oxford University Press. 1998 Philistia in Transition: The Tenth Century b.c.e. and Beyond, Pp.  162–83 in Mediterranean Peoples in Transition, Thirteenth to Early Tenth Centuries bce: In Honor of Professor Trude Dothan, ed. S. Gitin, A. Mazar, and E. Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Kang, H.-G., and Garfinkel, Y. 2009 Ashdod Ware I: Middle Philistine Decorated Ware. Pp. 151–60 in Khirbet Qeiyafa, vol. 1: Excavation Report 2007–2008, ed. Y. Garfinkel and S. Ganor. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Maeir, A. M. 2001 The Philistine Culture in Transformation: A Current Perspective Based on the Results of the First Seasons of Excavations at Tell es-Safi/Gath. Pp. 111–29 in Settlement, Civilization and Culture: Proceedings of the Conference in Memory of David Alon, ed. A. M. Maeir and E. Baruch. Ramat-Gan: Bar-Illan University Press. [Hebrew] In press  Philistia Transforming: Fresh Evidence from Tell es-Safi/Gath on the Transformation Trajectory of the Philistine Culture. In The Philistines and Other Sea Peoples, ed. A. Killebrew, G. Lehmann, and M. Artzy. Leiden: Brill. Mazar, A. 1985 Excavations at Tell Qasile, part 2: The Philistine Sanctuary: Various Finds, the Pottery, Conclusions, Appendixes. Qedem 20. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Ortiz, S. M. 2000 The 11/10th Century b.c.e. Transition in the Aijalon Valley Region: New Evidence from Tel Miqne– Ekron Stratum IV. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Arizona. Stone, B. 1995 The Philistines and Acculturation: Culture Change and Ethnic Continuity in the Iron Age. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 298: 7–32. Zukerman, A.; Dothan, T.; and Gitin, S. in press  A Stratigraphic and Chronological Analysis of the Iron Age I Assemblages: Strata VII–IV. Chapter 5b in Tel Miqne–Ekron Excavations 1985–1988, 1990, 1992–1995: Field IV Lower— The Elite Zone, Part 1: The Iron Age I Early Philistine City, ed. Y. Garfinkel, T. Dothan, and S. Gitin. Ekron Final Field Report Series 9/1. Jerusalem: Albright Institute and Hebrew University.

New Perspectives on the Chalcolithic Period in the Galilee: Investigations at the Site of Marj Rabba Yorke M. Rowan

Morag M. Kersel

The University of Chicago

DePaul University

Introduction Following on the heels of the Neolithic, the Chalcolithic period (ca. 4500–3600 heralds fundamental changes in socioeconomic organization, mortuary practices, and settlement patterns. Our best information about this period derives from the well-preserved sites in the northern Negev (i.e., Shiqmim, Gilat, Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi, Gerar), the Jordan Valley (Tuleilat Ghassul, Abu Hamid), and the Golan Heights; and from cemeteries (many discovered as a result of development), most of which are located along the Mediterranean coastal plain and the inland foothills (see Rowan and Golden 2009 for recent synthesis). The Negev sites and the burial assemblages of the littoral hint at access to distant sources of exotic raw materials and the production of status items (Levy 1998; Perrot 1959; Rowan et al. 2006; Rowan and Ilan 2013); in contrast, the Golan sites exhibit little or no evidence of prestige items (Epstein 1998). The absence of settlements near the coastal and piedmont burial caves was once considered part of a pattern produced by nomadic pastoralists, who buried their dead along the coast (Perrot 1984) but left little in the way of settlement remains. Although this hypothesis is no longer widely accepted, settlement excavations near the cave burial sites remain few and far between. This lacuna leaves a skewed interpretation of the Chalcolithic, placing emphasis on information from settlements in the Negev and the Golan.

b.c.e.)

Authors’ note: As we embarked on our first self-directed project in Israel, there was one person to whom we could turn for advice, guidance, and support: Sy Gitin. Even though the period was “pre-interesting” and the operation small (we were a mere eight people in our first season), Sy was ever helpful in assisting us launch a new field project in Israel. We called upon his many years of experience, his wise counsel, and his shipping-container contacts in order to get the project up and running. As we continue to investigate this often overlooked and understudied period in the Levant, we know that we can count on Sy for continued support and quips about the Chalcolithic.

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The discovery and excavation of Peqiʾin, a burial cave in the Upper Galilee, revealed remarkable new motifs in ossuary iconography and a striking material repertoire that includes copper and ivory objects and violin-shaped figurines. These artifacts were found much farther north than previously known, suggesting wide-ranging connections to other areas (Gal et al. 1996; 1997; 1999). Very little is known, however, about the Chalcolithic settlements of the north—only one small, well-stratified site (Tel Teʾo) is published with substantial Chalcolithic features (Eisenberg et al. 2001). Preliminary notes are available on a few key sites, such as Enot Kochav and Beer Tsunam (Shalem 2008). The remainder of our information derives from either surveys (Frankel et al. 2001; Frankel and Getzov 1997) or the salvage excavations of a few caves, such as Asherat (Smithline 2001), Abu Sinan (Frankel and Gophna 1980), and Peqiʾin (Gal et al. 1996; 1997; 1999). Moreover, there are very few published radiocarbon dates from Chalcolithic sites in the Galilee or Golan (see Burton and Levy 2001 for recent compilation). New investigations launched by the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago intend to tackle this missing piece of the late prehistoric puzzle by establishing a baseline for understanding the Galilee during the Chalcolithic period, specifically the Lower Galilee. The primary research goals for this initial foray into the Chalcolithic of the region include: (1) an exploration of building techniques and spatial dynamics; (2) the examination of regional affinities through the collection of material culture; (3) an examination of subsistence economies through collection of botanical and faunal samples; and (4) the collection of radiocarbon samples for chronological links. By recovering and studying contextualized fauna, plant, and material culture assemblages, we intend to provide inter- and intraregional comparative insights into the lives of the agropastoral people in the hilly Mediterranean zones of the Lower Galilee.

Marj Rabba In this essay, we offer preliminary observations based on the first two seasons (2009 and 2010) of excavations at the site of Marj Rabba. Marj Rabba (also referred to as Har ha-Shaʾavi, west) is located in the Lower Galilee (fig. 1), approximately 7 km SSW of Karmiʾel, 2 km SW of Sakhnin (southwest, lat 749780, long 226350; northeast, lat 749950, long 226800) and 1 km NE of the Roman period site of Yodfat. The site was discovered as part of a hinterland survey of Yodfat by Dina Shalem and Motti Aviam, who first identified it as Chalcolithic based on the concentrated surface scatter of f lint, pottery, and basalt artifacts (Shalem oral communication). With very little architecture visible on the surface, one of the initial goals was to determine the depth of anthropogenic strata and to evaluate the human and animal disturbance to these layers. The investigations of 2009 were performed in two areas, designated East and West: the West Area is forested, with large rock cairns, while the East Area is in a fallow field between two olive groves. Our investigations in the West

Investigations at the Site of Marj Rabba

Fig. 1.  Selected Chalcolithic sites. Map provided by the Galilee Prehistory Project, The Oriental Institute, University of Chicago.

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Fig. 2.  Squares C1, D1, E1, and F1, northern halves of D2, E2 and F2.

Area focused on three rock cairns, one of which exhibited a long, built linear feature visible on the surface. We were particularly interested in determining the reasons for the existence of these rock cairns and how long ago they were established. Excavations in the 2010 season were located only in the East Area, with particular effort concentrated on the excavation of sqs. B1, E1, F1 and the northern half of sqs. E2 and F2. An additional square, M1, is located 35 m to the east, contiguous with sq. L1, which was opened in 2009. The primary excavation area, where the greatest concentration of contiguous architecture is exposed, will be the primary focus of our present discussion. Squares C1, D1, E1, E2, F1, F2 Topsoil removal across the site included some modern material (plastic, bottle glass), some small Roman or Byzantine period well-fired, red-burnished sherds, and Chalcolithic material. The high proportion of Chalcolithic ceramics and other material culture in this disturbed upper layer suggests that later building phases were destroyed through the years. Mole rat disturbance, a daily occurrence, was most notable in the upper layer but continued as the excavation went deeper. Below the removal of topsoil, ca. 25–40 cm, a layer of small limestone pebbles, in some places relatively dense, was encountered. This was accompanied by a soil change across the site, less compacted, with more reddish, silty texture in contrast to the dark-brown, hard compacted surface sediment. After the dark, compact topsoil was cleared, all loci were sieved through 5-mm mesh. By the end of the 2009 season, the double row, large, fieldstone wall foundation (wall L.7) disappeared into the eastern section of D1. Perpendicular to this wall, the north–south wall L.6 ran along the western edge of sq. C1 (fig. 2). Additionally, a large circular feature (L.23) that is nearly 5 m in diameter and made of small cobbles was only half excavated in 2009 and was expected to continue into sq. E1. During the 2010 excavation season, sqs. E1 and F1, and later E2 and F2 were opened in an effort to follow features previously excavated in 2009 in sq. D1. The 2010 season revealed

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more architecture, albeit not at all what was anticipated, along with more round features and several phases of construction. Two sets of features dominated the main excavated squares exposed in the East Area. One predominant feature was the well-built wall foundation extending across sqs. C1, D1, E1 and F1 and connecting to perpendicular, north–south walls on the east and west (fig. 2). A second intriguing feature explored in the 2010 season was the series of overlapping circular stone features to the south of the extended east–west wall foundation (fig. 2). These two features, located in sqs. C1 and D1 (excavated in 2009) and sqs. E1, F1 and the northern halves of E2 and F2 (fig. 3) became the focal point of the 2010 season and will form the basis of the following discussion. The north–south wall foundation L.6 exposed in sq. C1 forms a right angle with wall L.7, although most of the juncture remains in the unexcavated area of sq. C2 to the north of sq. C1. Near the interior of the corner of walls L.6 and L.7, a well-built, elliptical, limestone slab–lined pit (L.24) was constructed up against the base of wall L.7. Roughly one meter in diameter and preserved about one-half meter deep, the bottom of the pit was paved with f lat stones. Just to the south of this slab-lined pit (or silo?) a large, f lat limestone slab suggested a work surface related to this pit. Nearby, a small section of original laid surface (L.26) was preserved, consisting of larger pottery fragments and a hard-packed layer of mud. Wall L.7, which runs along the northern line of sqs. C1 and D1, continues 11 m into sq. E1. Rather than forming a corner with a wall parallel to L.6, as was anticipated during 2009, this wall ends, and another wall (L.203) continues to the east. The disjuncture of these two walls suggests that they are not contemporaneous, but additional exposure is needed and will be a focus of future investigations in order to understand the relationship between these walls. Nonetheless, it appears that the northern wall has a break to the east, in sq. F1, possibly an entrance, where a corner is formed with north–south wall L.208, running to the south into sq. F2, about 5 m before forming a corner with east–west wall L.217. Understanding the architectural relationship of these walls and the nature of the structure(s) they form is critical to identifying the functions of these buildings. In the upper subsoil levels of sq. F1 (L.200), one of two obsidian blades was recovered during sieving. Obsidian is extremely rare during the period, although it is known from earlier 6th-millennium b.c.e. sites, most recently Tel Tsaf (Ben-Shlomo, Hill, and Garfinkel 2009) and other late-6th- to early-5th-millennium b.c.e. sites such as Newe Yam (Wreschner 1977: 270), ʿEin el-Jarba (Kaplan 1969: 14), Munhata (Garfinkel 1992: 219) and Horbat ʿUza (Lieberman-Wander 2009: 95–96). Obsidian is found at only two Chalcolithic sites thus far (Gilat and Teleilat Ghassul) and is traced to different Anatolian sources (see Yellin, Levy, and Rowan 1996). A dense accumulation of very small pebbles in the western edge of sq. F1 early in the excavations led to the recognition of densely packed, medium cobbles all positioned at the same level with a very distinct, purposefully built edge and a very regular pattern (L.207). This appears

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Fig. 3.  Squares F1 and F2, looking north. Photograph provided by the Galilee Prehistory Project, The Oriental Institute, University of Chicago.

to be another round installation similar to installations found in sqs. D1, E1, E2, and F2. Left in place and pedestaled, it will be removed in a future season in order to expose more completely the lower f loor level and associated features below. In the eastern half of sq. F1, beginning in the subsoil, a large concentration of medium-to-large cobbles covering most of the square (L.206) was mostly removed during excavation. This was a denser and larger concentration of stone than had been found anywhere in Area East previously. After careful cleaning of this concentration, we eventually found two walls (L.208 and L.217) that apparently formed a room with wall L.231 (fig. 4). Locus 206 is, therefore, probably the product of the destruction of the upper levels of these walls and is probably the later, northern-most wall (L.201). Walls L.208 and L.217 are both well constructed, with two rows of similar-sized, small boulders. Unlike the walls in sqs. C, D, and E, these walls do not have occasional large, standing boulders that are more than one course high. There are at least two courses preserved in walls L.208 and L.217. The north/south wall, L.208, seems to abut the short wall segment L.231, which is just below and parallel to the first wall discovered in sq. F1, L.201. Wall L.201 has only one row and one course preserved,

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Fig. 4.  Square F1 and the northern half of F2.

is not particularly straight, and appears to be a later construction. However, there are large boulders that may relate wall L.201 to wall L.208 and wall L.217. This wall (L.231) is constructed similarly to wall L.208 and wall L.217. A gap in the wall may be a door, and then the wall continues into the western balk. W231 appears to line up with the walls from sqs. C, D, and E much better than wall L.201 (see fig. 2). On the eastern side of wall L.208, in F1, another wall (L.218) runs diagonally southeast from the corner of wall L.231 and wall L.208 from the eastern section of F1 (fig. 4). The purpose of this wall is unclear. It is not as well constructed as walls L.231, L.208, and

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Fig. 5.  Room and surface inside sq. F1 looking south (arrows indicate preserved f loor surface, L.228). Photograph provided by the Galilee Prehistory Project, The Oriental Institute, University of Chicago.

L.218. Instead of two clear rows of uniformly sized fieldstones, this wall has very large stones (which may or may not be in situ) and some small cobbles in a more haphazard orientation. The wall seems to abut the corner of L.231 and L.208, but it also might be articulated with L.201. It will not be possible to understand how this wall relates to the rest of the architecture in F1 without opening G1, which will be the focus of future endeavors at the site. Inside the room formed by walls L.231, L.208, and L.217, a very dense and even distribution of cobbles and boulders was found at the bottom of a fill (L.210). Although this may have been a disturbed paved f loor, this idea was eventually discounted because there was very little evidence to suggest a surface (no stones, sherds, or other artifacts lying f lat). After photography, the dense cobble layer was removed, revealing a

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light brown silty layer like that found at a similar level in C1. This layer was highly friable and easily removed (L.223). During removal of L.223, a basalt macehead fragment was recovered in the northwest corner. Stone maceheads are a typical artifact of the Chalcolithic (see Rosenberg 2010; Rowan et al. 2006; Rowan and Levy 2011). After about 10 cm and additional cobble removal, a harder surface was exposed that appeared to be a f loor (L.228). In a few areas, there was a clearly preserved light-grey, very soft mix of silty soil, ash, and charcoal f loor surface. Where still preserved, the surface was embedded with sherds. The in situ f loor was carefully cleaned and photographed, although much of it is broken up by bioturbation. In the middle of the room, at the level of L.228, was a small, round, pit-like feature (L.229). This was a slightly irregular circle, only 26 cm in diameter that was clearly defined by a very hard, irregular, dark border (fig. 5). When broken, the boundary that defined L.229 seemed to be made of hard, burned, ash/charcoal/mud f loor material. Initially, it was thought to be a cupmark like those found at Gilat and other Chalcolithic sites; however, after excavation, it seems likely that it was an installation that may have been used for some sort of pyrotechnology. Approximately 26 cm in depth, it was lined with small f lat rocks and contained some fire-cracked, small cobbles but no material remains. In order to expose wall L.217 completely, the northern half of sq. F2 was opened. Early in the excavations, another possible circle was identified—in this case, made up of very large cobbles. This turned out to be a large, round feature (L.215; see figs. 3, 4) that consisted of a large cobble border filled with uniformly sized, medium cobbles. Although the circle is not particularly well preserved (some boulders have moved from the line of the circle, and some gaps exist), the feature is well defined in relation to its surrounding context. The border of L.215 runs very close to wall L.218, but they do not abut, so the relationship between L.215 and the architecture in F1 remains unclear. The presence of many features made from very small, easily dislodged cobbles required slow excavation in sqs. E1 and E2. The southern edge of L.23 (the large round feature exposed during 2009) continued into sq. E2 and then curved back into sq. E1. This edge was easily defined since it had the same regular pattern: three rows of small cobbles. Attempts to follow L.23 along its northern edge into sq. E1 were hampered by a small wall fragment (L.204). Although we suspected that L.204 was a closing wall for the structure containing L.7/L.203, it turned out to be only a fragmentary late construction that did not connect to any other features in sqs. E1 or D1. Instead, only one course was preserved and only for a length of about 2 m. Wall L.204 was clearly sitting on a concentration of f lat-lying pottery (Basket 2129, L.224). With the removal of L.204, it was possible to clean away the last of the subsoil sitting on top of several features in sq. E1 (L.202) and define them (see figs. 6, 7). On the western edge of sq. E1, above L.23, there is a smaller round feature (L.230) made with a similar construction. The full circumference of this round structure is not preserved but becomes indistinct on the western edge. The pottery concentration under wall L.204 sat directly on top of L.230.

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In the northeast corner of sq. E1, a concentration of f lat-lying pottery sherds (Basket 2052) was found during excavation of subsoil L.202. This may include the fragments of two relatively complete vessels (the vessels are currently being reconstructed); although lying f lat, this concentration did not appear to be a f loor but lay against a very regular pattern of medium cobbles (L.225). This feature lies below L.202 and in L.224. The orientation of these cobbles suggested that they were the fill inside a feature similar to L.23 and L.207, although L.225 was more difficult to delineate than others. Locus 225 appears to be a round installation, similar to Loci 23, 207, and 230, approximately 2 m in diameter. On its northeastern edge, it has nicely laid, medium cobbles, each with their long axis pointing outward. The interior of the feature was filled with uniformly sized, medium cobbles. Against the northeastern edge of the feature, there was more broken pottery lying vertically (Basket 2129). This feature seems to abut L.230, but at the time of writing their relationship is unclear. Another round feature, very similar to Locus 215, was found in sq. E2. The dark, reddish-brown, silty loam soil that was below the plow zone in E2 (L.205) continued for several centimeters with a great deal of material culture but little in the way of architecture. Eventually, part of another round feature (L.226), which had a diameter of approximately 2.0 m, was exposed. This was similarly constructed, with a border of larger fieldstones and a densely packed inner fill of medium cobbles. Less than half this feature is in sq. E2; the rest disappears into the south section and the balk between E2 and F2. Locus 230 and L.23 seem to share a common edge at their eastern extent; however, both of these loci as well as L.225 are cut by a very deep, well-constructed, cobble-lined pit (L.214; see figs. 6, 7). This pit is oval with a diameter of 1 m and is constructed with many irregular, tightly packed cobbles to a depth of almost 1 m. Three soil samples were removed from L.214 at different levels. Some aspects of the circular structures remain unclear, but there are at least four phases of construction (fig. 7). Locus 23, the round feature first identified in 2009, is the earliest and also largest feature (ca. 4.5–5.0 m external diameter). Unfortunately, it does not appear to be complete because the northeastern corner disappears just inside sq. E1. Next, L.230 is built on top of L.23, possibly reusing one edge of the earlier feature. Locus 225 may be contemporary with L.230 or may have been built during a similar phase. Then the pit feature, L.214, cut all three of these earlier features, Loci 23, 225, and 230. Later, the ephemeral wall that is L.204 was constructed. Wall L.7 continues from sq. D1 into sq. E1; about 2 m from the western edge of sq. E1, wall L.7 jogs to the north (fig. 7). From there, the wall jogs to the north and, designated wall L.203, runs to the east across the rest of sq. E1. It also only exists at a lower level after the jog (approximately 30–40 cm lower), and the construction method appears to change. West of the jog, the wall continues, constructed in the same method as in sqs. C1 and D1 with very large boulders, in two rows but often irregularly placed and with little uniformity of stone size. After the jog, there are very few

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Fig. 6.  Squares D1, D2, E1, and E2, looking north. Photograph provided by the Galilee Prehistory Project, The Oriental Institute, University of Chicago.

large boulders, and the rows are much more neatly and uniformly placed (much like the walls in sqs. L1 and M1). Wall L.203 disappears into the eastern balk and seems to line up with wall L.231 in both elevation and orientation. There is clearly a difference in construction between the walls at the jog, but whether wall L.231 or wall L.7 was constructed earlier may only be answered by further excavation. At the very end of the 2010 season, some larger stones that might be a north/south wall adjoining wall L.203 right at the jog were just beginning to be exposed. If this wall exists, then it would likely be a closing wall to walls L.231, L.208, and L.217, forming a complete room that runs under all of the round features in E1. This would make the F1 room an earlier phase than all of the other phases in E1. This will be investigated in subsequent seasons. After two seasons at Marj Rabba, we have at least six enigmatic round installations (Loci 207, 215, 224, 23, 225, and 230). There seem to be two construction methods (with and without large field stone used as borders), and the diameter of the features ranges from as little as 2 m (L.225) to as much as 5 m (L.23). The function of these installations remains unclear. There is no in situ evidence that these installations had any kind of superstructure; however, they are very near the surface, so it is likely that upper portions of these features were destroyed by plowing. One potential function could be silos, similar to those found at Tel Tsaf (Garfinkel et al. 2007), although L.23

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Fig. 7.  Foundations of round structures in squares D1, D2, E1, and E2.

is fairly large for grain storage. Unfortunately, botanical preservation at this elevation is poor and, although soil was removed from these installations for f lotation, no preserved botanical remains have been were recovered. It is hoped that future seasons will clarify this question by uncovering lower and better preserved installations. Square B1 In the 2010 season, sq. B1 was opened to explore the area immediately west of wall L.6, the north–south wall exposed in sq. C1 during the 2009 season. The intent was to uncover information pertaining to the construction of this wall and, perhaps, information on the unique features (L.24) found in C1, but the square revealed no in situ architecture (fig. 8). Nevertheless, rich cultural deposits were found even in the matrix excavated from just above the bedrock, which is exposed across about 60% of the square. Cultural fill in the square also included decayed mud-brick remains, although no complete bricks were isolated. A great deal of bioturbation from both

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Fig. 8.  Square B1, looking north. Bedrock with sediment. Photograph provided by the Galilee Prehistory Project, The Oriental Institute, University of Chicago.

small animals (mostly rodents) and roots was present. Material from modern, Roman, Chalcolithic, and Neolithic (a f lint arrowhead) periods was recovered, but the greatest percentage of the excavated artifacts was Chalcolithic in origin. As in other squares, all excavated matrices beneath the topsoil (L.38) layer were sieved with a 5-mm mesh. Removal of the mixed matrices (which began as a light-brown to yellowish silty sediment and then turned to grayish friable sediment) exposed larger stones, many of which turned out to be the upper sections of bedrock. Along the northern baulk, there appeared to be a concentration of natural formations with natural and cultural debris. This included a large square stone (ca. 40 × 40 × 15 cm) with a 10-cm-diameter concavity incised—possibly a door socket. Although clearly no longer in primary context, the large boulder was unlikely to have been moved far. The fill layers ended with the appearance of a reddish clay soil at 466.83 AMSL. Excavated as L.50, this was the sediment found directly on top of the bedrock. As the excavation continued, bedrock was exposed until it covered about 30–40% of the trench (fig. 8). Excavation continued in the hopes of bottoming out to bedrock across the entire trench for the purpose of finding possible Chalcolithic uses of the bedrock for food processing or water collection. No evidence for this was found, however. As the removal of soil went deeper, the soil became increasingly sterile.

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Fig. 9.  Perforated, bifacially f laked, f lint disc fragment. Both photographs provided by the Galilee Prehistory Project, The Oriental Institute, University of Chicago.

Fig. 10.  Perforated and carved bone pendant fragment.

Concluding Remarks The study of the ceramic, f lint, ground stone, and faunal assemblages is on­going, so it would be premature to draw broad inferences based on artifacts. Although ceramic vessel fragments and chipped stone are plentiful, the overall impression of the material culture suggests far lower concentrations in contrast to the large Negev sites such as Gilat, Shiqmim, Bir es-Safadi, or Abu Matar. Moreover, the absence of “exotic” artifacts such as copper, ivory, non-local stone, or shells may indicate a population that was not as actively engaged in the exchange systems as were people who were living at the Negev sites. Some artifacts, such as the perforated, bifacially f laked, f lint disc fragment (fig. 9) recovered during the excavation of the largest circular feature (L.23) are typical of northern regions such as the Jordan Valley and the Golan (Hanbury-Tenison 1986: 142–43; Noy 1998: 277–83, pls. 49–56). Others, such as the carved bone pendant fragment (fig. 10, also found during exposure of the large circular feature L.23) are less diagnostic of region. The pottery repertoire includes typical forms, such as open form bowls, fenestrated pedestaled stands, and large storage vessels. Rope decoration—created by incising or finger indentation directly or with appliqué—is found here and is a motif known from Chalcolithic sites in the Golan. Brown or dark-reddish vessels are more typical here than among ceramic assemblages of the southern regions. Basalt inclusions in ceramic fabrics, which are typical in eastern Galilean wares where basalt is local, are found

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only rarely here. Sherds of the Golan Chalcolithic, discovered at sites such as Tel Teʾo and Tel Turmus in the Hula Valley (Dayan 1969), Tel Delhamiya in the Jordan Valley (Amiran 1977: 51–52, fig. 4.5, pl. 10:1–2), and Abu Sinan (Frankel and Gophna 1980: pl. 23:12), Asherat (Smithline 2001: fig. 11.11), and the Peqiʾin burial cave in the Upper Galilee (Gal, Smithline, and Shalem 1997: 149, fig. 5) are also found at Marj Rabba. The discovery of “Golan” vessels beyond that region suggests that these manufacturing techniques extended beyond the Golan and that the vessels were exchanged to a limited degree on an intraregional level. The substantial wall foundations, the partial room with a fragmentary f loor, and large overlapping circular structures highlight a site unlike others investigated to date in the Galilee, but this ref lects the paucity of comparative data. The few parallels for the circular structures in the Galilee suggest that these may have served the same purpose as round mud-brick structures identified as silos at Tel Tsaf (Garfinkel et al. 2007). At Tel Tsaf, the round, plastered structures ranged in outer diameter from 2 to 4 m, which are dimensions similar to the structures at Marj Rabba. This suggestion is difficult to test without archaeological contexts associated with the architecture, which is lacking at such shallow levels. Although Marj Rabba is clearly a Chalcolithic site, many questions remain unanswered: Where did the inhabitants find water? How large was the site, and how many people lived there? Where were the dead buried? In addition, chronological issues remain. Does this site date to a time that was early in the Chalcolithic sequence, perhaps the mid-5th millennium b.c.e., as some scholars would suggest based on the pottery? We hope that, with additional seasons of excavation and survey, some of these questions will be answered.

Bibliography Amiran, R. 1977 Pottery from the Chalcolithic Site near Tell Delhamiya and Some Notes on the Character of the Chalcolithic–Early Bronze I Transition. Eretz-Israel 13 (Stekelis Volume): 48–56. [Hebrew; English summary, p. 291*] Ben-Shlomo, D.; Hill, A. C.; and Garfinkel, Y. 2009 Feasting between the Revolutions: Evidence from Chalcolithic Tel Tsaf, Israel. Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 22: 129–50. Burton, M., and Levy, T. E. 2001 The Chalcolithic Radiocarbon Record and Its Use in Southern Levantine Archaeology. Radio­ carbon 43/2: 1–24. Dayan, Y. 1969 Tel Turmus in the Huleh Valley. Israel Exploration Journal 19: 65–78. Eisenberg, I.; Gopher, A.; and Greenberg, R. 2001 Tel Teʾo: A Neolithic, Chalcolithic, and Early Bronze Age Site in the Hula Valley. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 13. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Epstein, C. 1998 The Chalcolithic Culture of Golan. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 4. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority.

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Frankel, R., and Getzov, N. 1997 Map of Akhziv (1); Map of Hanita (2): Archaeological Survey of Israel. Jerusalem. Frankel, R.; Getzov, N.; Aviam, M.; and Degani, A. 2001 Settlement Dynamics and Regional Diversity in Ancient Upper Galilee. Archaeological Survey of Upper Galilee. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 14. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Frankel, R., and Gophna, R. 1980 Chalcolithic Pottery from a Cave in Western Galilee. Tel Aviv 7: 65–69. Gal, Z.; Smithline, H.; and Shalem, D. 1996 A Chalcolithic Burial Cave in Peqiʾin. Qadmoniot 111: 19–24. 1997 A Chalcolithic Burial Cave in Peqiʾin, Upper Galilee. Israel Exploration Journal 47: 145–54. 1999 New Iconographic Aspects of Chalcolithic Art: Preliminary Observations on Finds from the Peqiʾin Cave. ºAtiqot 37: 1–16. Garfinkel, Y. 1992 The Pottery Assemblages of the Shaºar Hagolan and Rabah Stages of Munhata (Israel). Les cahiers du centre de recherche français de Jérusalem 6. Paris: Association Paléorient. Garfinkel, Y.; Ben-Shlomo, D.; Freikman, M.; and Vered, A. 2007 Tel Tsaf: The 2004–2006 Excavation Seasons. Israel Exploration Journal 57: 1–33. Hanbury-Tenison, J. 1986 The Late Chalcolithic to Early Bronze I Transition in Palestine and Transjordan. British Archaeological Reports International Series 311. Oxford: Archaeopress. Kaplan, J. 1969 ʿAin el Jarba. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 194: 2–39. Levy, T. E. 1998 Cult, Metallurgy and Rank Societies: Chalcolithic Period (ca. 4500–3500 b.c.e.). Pp. 226–44 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. Levy, T. E., ed. 2006 Archaeology, Anthropology and Cult: The Sanctuary at Gilat, Israel. London: Equinox. Lieberman-Wander, R. 2009 The Obsidian Flaked-Stone Assemblage. Pp.  95–96 in Horbat ʿUza: The 1991 Excavations, vol. 1: The Early Periods, ed. N. Getzov, R. Lieberman-Wander, H. Smithline, and D. Syon. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 41. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Noy, T. 1998 The Flint Artifacts. Pp. 269–99 in The Chalcolithic Culture of the Golan, ed. C. Epstein. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 4. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Perrot, J. 1984 Structures d’habitat, mode de vie et environnement: Les villages souterrains des pasteurs de Beersheva, dans le sud d’Israel, au IVe millénaire avant l’ère chrétienne. Paléorient 10: 75–96. Rosen, S. A. 1997 Lithics after the Stone Age: A Handbook of Stone Tools from the Levant. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira. Rosenberg, D. 2010 Early Maceheads in the Southern Levant: A “Chalcolithic” Hallmark in Neolithic Context. Journal of Field Archaeology 35: 204–16. Rowan, Y. M., and Golden, J. 2009 The Chalcolithic Period of the Southern Levant: A Synthetic Review. Journal of World Prehistory 22: 1–92. Rowan, Y. M., and Ilan, D. 2013 The Subterranean Landscape of the Southern Levant during the Chalcolithic Period. Pp. 87–107 in Sacred Darkness: A Global Perspective on the Ritual Use of Caves, ed. H. Moyes. Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado. Rowan, Y. M., and Levy, T. E. 2011 Prestige vs. Pragmatic Production: Transitions in Macehead Manufacture in the Ancient Levant. Pp. 199–218 in Daily Life, Materiality and Complexity in Early Urban Communities of the Southern

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Levant: Papers in Honor of Walter E. Rast and R. Thomas Schaub, ed. M. S. Chesson. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Rowan, Y. M.; Levy, T. E.; Goren, Y.; and Alon, D. 2006 Gilat’s Ground Stone Assemblage: Stone Fenestrated Stands, Bowls, Palettes, and Related Artifacts. Pp. 575–684 in Archaeology, Anthropology and Cult: The Sanctuary at Gilat, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Equinox. Shalem, D. 2008 The Upper and Lower Galilee in the Late Chalcolithic Period. Pp. 99*–110* in In the Hill Country, in the Shephelah, and in the Arabah ( Joshua 12,8): Studies and Researches Presented to Adam Zertal on the 30th Anniversary of the Manasseh Hill-Country Survey, ed. S. Bar. Jerusalem: Ariel. Smithline, H. 2001 Chalcolithic and Early Bronze Age Caves at Asherat, Western Galilee. ʿAtiqot 42: 35–78. Wreschner, E. 1977 New Yam: A Submerged Late Neolithic Settlement near Mount Carmel. Eretz-Israel 13 (Stekelis Volume): 259*–70*. Yellin, J.; Levy, T. E.; and Rowan, Y. M. 1996 New Evidence on Prehistoric Trade Routes: The Obsidian Evidence from Gilat, Israel. Journal of Field Archaeology 23: 361–68.

An Overview of Iron Age Gaza in Light of the Archaeological Evidence Moain Sadeq Qatar University, The University of Chicago, and University of Toronto

Introduction During the Iron Age, Gaza played a key geostrategic role in the region, achieving a high level of prosperity as a key city of the Philistine Pentapolis established at the beginning of the 12th century b.c.e. Gaza functioned as a border urban center and a buffer zone between Asia and Africa, controlling sea trade in the southeast Mediterranean, as well as overland commerce between Egypt and Arabia. From as early as the 19th century, scholars were attracted to the Gaza region, and the excavations conducted by Phythian-Adams in 1922 at Tell el-Kharrubi (also known as Tell el-Harubeh) 1 on the northwestern slope of the ancient mound of Gaza were followed by a series of archaeological investigations at the sites of Tell el-ʿAjjul, Deir el-Balaḥ, Iblakhiyya, and Tell Ruqeish (fig. 1). These excavations have enabled the compilation of a substantial, albeit partial database on the history and archaeology of Iron Age Gaza. Despite the physical archaeological evidence for the Iron Age from sites in the Gaza region, there is no single scholarly compendium that addresses Iron Age Gaza overall. Rather, treatments of this period usually appear as a secondary component in studies that deal with earlier and later periods. In this overview, I endeavor to shed light on Gaza during the Iron Age based on the information from earlier excavation Author’s note:  It is an honor to dedicate this paper to our friend and dynamic colleague, Seymour Gitin, in recognition of his long-term scholarly contribution to our understanding of the Philistines in history through his analysis of the textual and archaeological data relating to complex interactions between ancient societies. The academic community has benefited greatly from Gitin’s outstanding efforts in furthering archaeological scholarship both in his own research and as the director of the Albright Institute. I also greatly appreciate his willingness to serve as the editorial adviser for my planned book on the history and archaeology of Gaza. I also thank Edna Sachar for her meticulous copy-editing of the manuscript. 1. Named after El-Kharrubi, the prominent sheikh (referred to locally as wally) who is buried in the cemetery named after him and located in the ancient tell.

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Fig. 1.  Archaeological sites in the Gaza Strip with Iron Age remains (© Moain Sadeq).

reports and on the excavations conducted over the past 12 years in the city of Gaza and its vicinity. In addition, lacunae in the material culture record necessitate investigation of the textual data. Thus, the settlement history of Gaza remains partly reconstructed by the selective textual dataset left by its conquerors. The end of the Bronze Age in the early 12th century b.c.e. was marked in part by the battles between Ramesses III (ca. 1175–1144 b.c.e.) and the Sea Peoples, mainly the Philistines, along the southern coast of Canaan. The Philistines succeeded in settling and expanding their holdings in the former Egyptian-dominated provinces in Canaan, where they established the Pentapolis comprising Gaza, Ashkelon, Ashdod, Ekron, and Gath, and where the earliest phase of settlement is characterized by the appearance of Mycenean IIIC:1b pottery (Dothan 1982: 295). The exact time-span of the early Iron Age, as put forward in the 1920s by Garstang, Vincent, Albright, and Phythian-Adams (Garstang et al. 1922) is still debated, and different dates have been suggested by a

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number of scholars, among them Wright (1961), Finkelstein (1995; 1996), and Mazar (1997; 2005). Nevertheless, it is generally accepted that, by the end of the Late Bronze Age in Canaan, the major cities had entered a transitional period in which the dominant Egyptian political control was challenged by the presence and activities of new cultural groups that arrived in phases, one of which was the Sea Peoples/Philistines. Their urban centers were established at strategically located Canaanite sites, creating a new political and socioeconomic structure. It is generally assumed, albeit not confirmed, that the archaeological mound of the Medieval city of Gaza (Tell el-Harubeh/Tell el-Kharrubi) is the site of the southernmost capital of the Philistine Pentapolis established early in the 12th century b.c.e. The mound rises some 30 m above the surrounding ground level. The Medieval city walls together with the cemetery of el-Kharrubi are depicted in a 19th-century plan of Gaza (Gatt 1888: 151), approximately 3.5 km (aerial distance) from the Mediterranean Sea. In contrast to the large-scale excavations of the other Philistine cities, the mound of ancient Gaza has not yet been fully explored. Our present knowledge of Iron Age Gaza comes from small-scale excavations and textual sources. The importance of the city and its leading role among the Philistine Pentapolis are apparent in the Old Testament narrative, in which Gaza is described as well fortified, with a gate and adjacent watchtower, and containing a prison. Its most important structure was presumably the Temple of Dagon, perhaps built in the same location where Ramesses III erected the Temple of Amon (Katzenstein 1992: 912–13, with reference to Judg 16:1–3, 21, 23–30; Pritchard: 260–61). Chevalier Laurent d’Arvieux was one of the first scholars to attempt to explore Iron Age Gaza; in 1659, he received permission from the Ottoman authorities to excavate the Temple of Dagon in Gaza, but the accumulations of later occupations prevented him from reaching his goal (see Dothan and Dothan 1992: 7). In the investigations conducted in the 1880s by Gatt, the remains of an ancient mud-brick wall, “Überrest einer antiken Ziegelmauer,” were identified on the northern slope of the tell (Gatt 1884: 13). In the early 1920s, Phythian-Adams excavated a trench in the middle of the severely eroded northwestern slope of the tell of ancient Gaza. His main discovery was a crude stone glacis that he described as “skin deep” and unsuited for defensive purposes; the associated pottery 2 apparently belonged to a time of decline in the city’s Philistine history, which seems to have ended in disaster, desolation, and possibly total abandonment, at least in this part of the site (Phythian-Adams 1923a: 13). Phythian-Adams further stated (identifying a series of superimposed walls by color) that, if the glacis and the substantial “Brown” wall represent the period of Alexander the Great, the “Red” wall below it must date at least as far back as the reign of Pharaoh Necho (609–593 b.c.e.), 2.  For example, a characteristic Philistine krater with red-band decoration and a cup with horizontal loop handles (Phythian-Adams 1923b: 29).

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who supposedly severely damaged the city. He concluded that, in turn, the “Grey” and “Green” walls below the “Red” wall might date to the middle of the 1st millennium— that is, “to the time of the arrival of the Philistines” (Phythian-Adams 1923c: 36; see also 1923b: 26). He also suggested that the ancient mud-brick city wall, to which Garstang refers in an earlier report (1920), was an extension of an earlier and “much finer” rampart. Given that the trench Phythian-Adams excavated yielded almost exclusively coarse wares, he suggested that the principal Bronze Age deposits were buried inside the tell and that the excavated scarp had probably been formed by an extended early Iron Age/ Philistine occupation that, following the construction of the last wall, abruptly declined (Phythian-Adams 1923a: 13).

Excavations at Tell el-ʿAjjul Early Iron Age structural remains on a larger scale than those on the tell of ancient Gaza have been identified at Tell el-ʿAjjul on the northern side of the Gaza Valley, ca. 6 km southwest of the tell (fig. 1). In addition to the substantial Middle and Late Bronze Age strata investigated between 1930 and 1934 by the British School of Archaeology in Egypt under the direction of Sir Flinders Petrie, as well as by E. H. Mackay and M. A. Murray in a short excavation season in 1938, the urban nature of the early Iron Age city was revealed at this site. In his study on the chronology of Tell el-ʿAjjul, Albright suggested that Palace (or fortress) V, of which only the foundations survived, date to the 10th or early 9th century, based on the Iron Age pottery found in the reuse of the Late Bronze Age cemetery excavated at the foot of the palace. These burials contained exclusively late Iron I and Iron I–II transitional types, the most characteristic of which are undecorated Philistine kraters with vestigial angled, horizontal loop handles of the late 11th or early 10th century, Phoenician ointment juglets with painted bands and concentric circles of the 11th–early 9th centuries, and two types of elongated, single-handled juglets of the 11th–9th centuries. Albright (1938: 358– 59) also attributed some of the cremation burials in the cemetery to the Philistines. This was subsequently supported by Dothan’s interpretation of the “Cemetery 1000” tombs, which contained Philistine pottery and a few 12th- or 11th-century vessels, as Philistine (Dothan 1982: 35). The suggested Iron Age architecture of Palace V at Tell el-ʿAjjul and the Philistine pottery associated with the Iron Age burials support the possibility that the site was the location of a Philistine urban center. However, the components and dimensions of this center cannot be assessed or confirmed due to the meager finds from this period and the very low quantity of Philistine vessels at the site. The Iron Age occupation at Tell el-ʿAjjul seems to have continued through the later part of the period as well. During the first two excavation seasons (1999 and 2000) conducted by a joint Palestinian and Swedish team directed by Peter Fischer and me, small quantities of late Iron Age sherds were found in several pits (of the LB IIA/B

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Fig. 2.  Tell el-ʿAjjul: Late Iron Age storage jar fragment (7th century b.c.e.; © PalestinianSwedish Expedition).

and late Iron IIC/post–Iron Age) exposed in Horizons 1A–B. Seven pits (the largest of which is 4 m in diameter), which were disturbed over the course of time, may have been dug during the late Iron Age. Their exact dating cannot be determined, since Iron Age pottery is extremely rare and mainly represented by stray finds (Fischer and Sadeq 2002: 109, 113, 153). Fragments of a late Iron Age, sausage-shaped storage jar (fig. 2) were found at the northern end of a looted burial in Horizon 1 Locus 45. The burial (ca. 1.6 m long × 0.7 m wide × 0.4 m deep) was built of sandstone blocks and reused basalt grinding stones (fig. 3; Fischer and Sadeq 2002: 112–13, 140). Given that the main occupation at Tell el-ʿAjjul dates to the late Middle Bronze and Late Bronze Ages, the bulk of the material from the later pits originates from these earlier periods, obviously brought up from the deeper layers. The excavated pits, of a maximum depth of 81 cm (Locus 25), were not associated with any architecture. No seed remains were found that would help to determine the purpose of the pits or that could be used for radiocarbon dating. Thus, it is possible that some burials and several of the pits in Horizon 1 date to the Iron Age, but the limited exposure precludes a determination of whether these represent the presence of seasonal inhabitants, squatters, or a village. Also lacking is information on how much topsoil was removed by erosion and the number of cultural layers at the site.

Excavations at Deir el-Balaḥ In addition to the early and late Iron Age remains at Tell el-ʿAjjul, early Iron Age evidence is also attested in the settlement and cemetery at Deir el-Balaḥ, some 18 km

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Fig. 3.  Tell el-ʿAjjul: Late Iron Age burial (7th century b.c.e.) (© Palestinian-Swedish Expedition).

southwest of ancient Gaza and 1.5 km from the sea (fig. 1). The site was excavated intermittently by Trude Dothan over 10 years, between 1972 and 1982 (see Dothan 1993). 3 Philistine remains were represented mainly in four pits (with no associated architecture) dug into Stratum 3 of the Late Bronze Age. They were filled with characteristic Philistine Bichrome pottery, demonstrating the end of Egyptian domination and the earliest Philistine presence in the second half of the 12th or the beginning of the 11th century (Dothan 1993: 345). Two additional pits, also not associated with structures, were found in Stratum 2 of the Iron Age. These pits contained Iron Age pottery sherds dating back to the 10th and perhaps the 9th centuries. Large quantities 3.  See also volume 2 of the final excavation report on Deir el-Balaḥ, especially Dothan 2010; Dothan and Adler 2010; Killebrew 2010.

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of Philistine pottery were also found in the wadi to the southwest of the excavated area, which led Dothan to suggest that a 12th-century Philistine settlement might lie hidden under sand dunes in this location. Dothan concluded that “the ceramic evidence of the Philistine presence at Deir el-Balaḥ, however, does not indicate an early presence at the site; the simple decoration on the vessels found indicates that they arrived here at a late stage (the second half of the 12th to the beginning of the 11th centuries b.c.e.)” (Dothan 1993: 345). Furthermore, the excavations yielded many Egyptian-style vessels alongside Philistine pottery, demonstrating that the Philistine settlers “did not enter a cultural vacuum” (Dothan and Dothan 1992: 208). Following Ramesses III’s defeat of the Sea Peoples (including the Philistines), some were conscripted into the Egyptian army and settled in Egyptian strongholds in Canaan, such as at Tell el-Farʿah (South) and Beth-Shean (Dothan 1982: 260). The Philistine settlement at Deir el-Balaḥ may be one of these strongholds.

The Neo-Assyrian Period in Gaza Following the Neo-Assyrian conquests of the 8th century b.c.e., a new era began in the Philistine city of Gaza. Tiglath-pileser III recognized the strategic importance of Gaza, and he captured the city in 734 b.c.e., making it a Neo-Assyrian vassal citystate and an integral part of the empire’s international economic system. Hanno, the Philistine ruler of Gaza, escaped to Egypt, where he sought assistance to retake his city. According to the textual evidence, Tiglath-pileser boasted that he took substantial booty from Gaza; this included gold, 800 silver talents, people and their property, and the wife, sons, and daughters of Hanno together with his residence and gods. Tiglath-pileser also had statues of Assyrian deities and of himself fashioned of gold and placed in the palace of Gaza (Pritchard 1969: 282–83; Rainey and Notley 2006: 229). Two decades later, Sargon II built strongholds in the buffer zone between Gaza and Egypt, and probably founded a colony at Raphia (Rapihu) ca. 716 b.c.e. (fig. 1; Noort 1994: 30). In Gitin’s analysis, based on the combined textual and archaeological evidence for this period, Gitin concludes that Sennacherib’s 701 b.c.e. conquest of the Philistine coastal plain resulted in the dramatic physical and economic expansion of the earlier city at Ekron. By the end of the 8th century b.c.e., Ekron grew to more than 75 acres, and its new, well-defined town plan included fortifications and industrial, domestic, and elite zones. This was part of the Neo-Assyrian Empire’s integration of the four remaining Philistine vassal city-states—Ashdod, Ashkelon, Ekron, and Gaza— into a new international economic system (Gitin 1998: 167). 4 By the second quarter of the 7th century b.c.e., the cities of the Levantine littoral and other Assyrian vassal city-states in Philistia, among them Gaza, achieved a high level of prosperity. Thus King Esarhaddon called upon the “12 Kings of the seacoast,” 4.  For a comprehensive overview of the textual and archaeological evidence relating to Philistia in general, with references, see Gitin 2010.

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Fig. 4.  Iblakhiyya: View from the east (© Moain Sadeq).

among them Sili-Bel, king of Gaza, to provide building materials and their transport for the construction of his palace at Nineveh (Pritchard 1969: 291). Under Sili-Bel’s extended rule, as attested in the Annals of Sennacherib in 701 b.c.e., of Esarhaddon in 677 b.c.e., and of Assurbanipal in 667 b.c.e. (Katzenstein 1992: 913, with references), Gaza remained a tributary vassal kingdom under the Assyrians. The imperial power had consolidated Gaza’s economy and reaped profits from the Arabian trade in spices, incense, perfume, and other luxury goods. Clear archaeological evidence and well-defined architecture dated to the Neo-Assyrian period in Gaza have been excavated at the sites of Iblakhiyya and Tell el-Ruqeish. Iblakhiyya Iblakhiyya, a tell measuring approximately 400 m in diameter, is covered by the northern part of the Shati refugee camp (fig. 1). The tell is presumably the location of the Greek maritime city of Anthedon mentioned by various historians and travelers (Gatt 1884: 5–7). In the Hellenistic period, Anthedon was also called Agrippias, named after Marcus Agrippa, commander-in-chief for Emperor Augustus (Butt 1995: 61). During the Islamic period, the site became known as Tadun or Tidah (Gatt 1884: 7; Phythian-Adams 1923a: 15; 1923c: 35), apparently a corruption or shortening of the Greek name Anthedon. Beginning in 1995, a series of campaigns were conducted at the site jointly by the Palestinian Department of Antiquities in Gaza and the École Biblique et Archéologique Française in Jerusalem (Humbert and Sadeq 2000). Given the high density of modern occupation at the site, the only area available for excavation on the tell itself lay at the northwestern foot of the mound between the sea road and the beach (fig. 4). The earliest architecture exposed was a Neo-Assyrian mud-brick wall/rampart (figs.  4–5). Its construction has been dated to the reign of an unknown Assyrian king (most likely in the 7th century b.c.e.), who probably built the fortifications to

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Fig. 5.  Iblakhiyya: Assyrian rampart with supporting tower/ buttress, view from the northeast (© Moain Sadeq).

protect this border region from Egyptian incursions (Humbert and Sadeq 2000). The high quality of the rampart structure and its supporting tower/buttress as well as their location at the northwestern foot of the tell may indicate that they were part of the outer fortifications of a settlement that presumably served as the harbor for Gaza and a fortified outpost facilitating trade. Support for this hypothesis lies in the significant role that Gaza played in trade during the Neo-Assyrian period as a terminus on the routes that linked Mesopotamia to Gaza on the one hand and Gaza and Edom (ancient Busayra specifically) via the Beersheba Valley on the other (Bienkowski and van der Steen 2001: 24). Fortified centers were also necessary for protection against the tribal groups that controlled and sometimes raided the trade routes between Arabia, Edom, the Beersheba Valley, and Gaza. The Assyrians may have established similar centers at Tell Jemmeh, Tell Seraʿ, Tell Haror, and Tell Abu Salima between Beersheba and Gaza at the end of the Arabian trade route. These centers would have served “to control Assyrian interests in the Arabian trade and to integrate the tribes in the region of Gaza and in Sinai” (Bienkowski and van der Steen 2001: 41). The Neo-Assyrian fortifications exposed at Iblakhiyya were built of mud brick, the predominant construction material at all Bronze and Iron Age sites in the Gaza region, such as Taur Ikhbeineh, 5 Tell es-Sakan, and Tell el-ʿAjjul. The fortifications at Iblakhiyya consist mainly of a rampart built in two phases. In the first phase, the rampart is 24.85 m long and approximately 5.90 m wide, running east–west and facing northeast, and its maximum height is 9 m (16.86 m above sea level). The rampart is supported by a rectangular tower/buttress (fig. 5) measuring 6.20 × 1.60 m and by a solid construction, probably a corner tower, at a distance of 14.30 m from the first tower, which forms the end of the rampart facing the sea. The second tower is severely eroded, preserved to a height of less than 1 m (6.14 m above sea level). Based 5.  See Oren and Yekutieli 1992.

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Fig. 6.  Iblakhiyya: Iron Age amphora (7th century b.c.e.). Reproduced with the permission of the Palestinian Department of Antiquities.

on the associated pottery, including a complete jar (fig. 7), the rampart dates to the 7th century b.c.e. The second phase of the rampart is a defensive mud-brick fortification running north–south, facing the sea, and exposed to a length of 10.45 m. It was built in front of and concealed the southern face of the first phase, and a different construction technique was used; the square spaces within the rampart core were filled in with mud-brick fragments mixed with pottery sherds. The fortifications at Iblakhiyya were subsequently partially destroyed, most likely during the Neo-Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar’s military campaign in Philistia at the end of the 7th century. This destruction probably occurred in 604 b.c.e., when Ashkelon was destroyed and Philistia in its entirety came under Babylonian control (Stager 1996: 71*; Gitin 2010: 345–46). In the next archaeological sequence at Iblakhiyya, a Persian period structure sealed the Neo-Assyrian rampart (fig. 4). Among the associated vessels in the pottery assemblage is an intact Persian period storage jar found in situ. This structure was in turn sealed by later Greek, Roman, and Byzantine period strata, which extended to the north beyond the rampart’s location (Sadeq 2005: 235). Tell el-Ruqeish The second site in the Gaza region that yielded Neo-Assyrian architectural remains is Tell el-Ruqeish, located on the Mediterranean coast of Deir el-Balaḥ, some

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1

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3 0

10 cm.

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Fig. 7.  Iblakhiyya: Iron Age pottery types (© Mariusz Burdajewicz 2000: 38). Reproduced with permission.

18 km southwest of the ancient tell of Gaza (fig. 1). The site was first investigated in 1940 by J.  Ory under the auspices of the British Mandatory Department of Antiquities. In 1973, A. Biran directed salvage excavations at the site on behalf of the Israeli Department of Antiquities and Museums. The initial discoveries at Tell el-Ruqeish consisted mainly of late Iron Age, Phoenician-style burials dated to the 8th–6th centuries b.c.e., which prompted the surveys and excavations conducted

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between 1982 and 1984 by E. Oren of Ben-Gurion University of the Negev (see Oren 1993: with references). The settlement at Ruqeish dates from the late Iron Age through the Persian period (8th–4th centuries b.c.e.). It encompassed an area of 20–25 acres, surrounded by a massive mud-brick city wall (1.6 km long) with projecting towers and buttresses. Oren exposed four phases, the architecture of the earliest of which, Phase IV, had thinwalled architectural remains, f loors made of a bricky material, and cooking and baking installations (Oren 1993: 1293). This phase represents a new settlement founded in the second half of the 8th century b.c.e. There was no gap in occupation between Phases IV, III, and II, the last two of which date to the 7th and 6th centuries b.c.e. (Oren 1993: 1294). Oren reports that the pottery from these three phases includes “ ‘wide-bellied’ and torpedo-shaped storejars, highly burnished jugs and kraters of ‘Ruqeish ware,’ Cypro-Phoenician pottery, Phoenician or ‘Samarian’ bowls, and imported ceramics from Cyprus, Greece, and Egypt” (Oren 1993: 1294). In light of the above-mentioned evidence, Oren concludes that Ruqeish was a f lourishing Phoenician center located between Raphia and Gaza during the late Iron Age and Persian period (Phase I of the 5th–4th centuries b.c.e.). He suggests that the site could be the “sealed Karum of Egypt,” the harbor or commercial headquarters founded by the Neo-Assyrian King Sargon II on the border with Egypt at the end of his second campaign to Philistia in 716 b.c.e. (Oren 1993: 1294). In the Persian period (539–332 b.c.e.), the Phase I settlement served as “one of the coastal emporia between Gaza and Yenisos mentioned by Herodotus (III:5)” (Oren 1993: 1294).

Post-Neo-Assyrian-Period Gaza Following the decline of the Neo-Assyrian Empire in the last quarter of the 7th century b.c.e., Philistia came under Egyptian hegemony. It was subsequently conquered by the Neo-Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar in the course of his military campaign at the end of the 7th century b.c.e. The precise dating of the Babylonian conquest of Gaza cannot be determined from the textual and archaeological record. However, since Ashkelon was destroyed in 604 b.c.e., in all likelihood the entire region of Philistia came under Babylonian control at the same time (Stager 1996: 71*; Gitin 2010: 345–46). By the reign of Nabonidus (555–539 b.c.e.), Gaza served as a Babylonian garrison (Katzenstein 1992: 914). Thereafter, as Gitin concludes, the cumulative effects of long-term foreign inf luence combined with the processes of acculturation, the Neo-Babylonian destruction of Philistine cities, and the deportation of their populations eventually led to the loss of the Philistines’ core culture. As a result, the Philistines disappeared from the pages of history (Gitin 2010: 346). No Neo-Babylonian architectural or material culture remains were found above the remains of the Neo-Assyrian rampart at Iblakhiyya or in the Gaza region in general. Further excavations in various locations in the Gaza region are needed to eluci-

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date the political and cultural changes that took place at the time, and more data on contemporaneous settlements is desired to answer remaining questions concerning the dimensions and roles of these sites. Babylonian domination was short-lived, and a powerful new empire developed in Persia. In 539 b.c.e., Cyrus led the Persian army to Babylon, and after conquering that city, moved on to Palestine. In 525 b.c.e., Cyrus’s son and successor, Cambyses, attacked Gaza, but due to strong resistance was only able to capture the city after a prolonged siege.

Conclusion The mound of the present old city of Gaza is presumed to have been the location of the Philistine capital city. Despite the archaeological importance of the site, the heavy overburden of Medieval and later structures have restricted survey and excavation activities, making it impossible to investigate the ancient city thoroughly. The principal Iron Age architectural and material culture remains uncovered thus far demonstrate that two major external events had an impact on Gaza in this period. The first event was the collapse of Egyptian hegemony in southwestern Palestine with the arrival of the Philistines during the Late Bronze–Iron Age transition. This is represented by the archaeological remains uncovered at Tell el-Kharrubi and Tell el-ʿAjjul, as well as the Philistine remains found overlying the Late Bronze Age settlement at Deir el-Balaḥ. The second event was Gaza’s integration into the new international economic system of the Neo-Assyrian Empire as a vassal city-state from the 8th through 6th centuries b.c.e. This is evident at the two major sites that dominated maritime and overland trade activities, namely, Tell el-Ruqeish and Iblakhiyya. Tell el-Ruqeish, with its structural remains of a new Assyrian city, probably functioned as a Phoenician trade center in the late Iron Age, and Iblakhiyya was presumably the fortified site that served as a maritime and trade center, later known as Anthedon. The locations of these two sites would have been well suited to the objectives of the dominant imperial powers of the time in terms of maintaining Gaza as a buffer zone, border area, and control point along the “Ways of Horus,” as well as dominating maritime activities along the coast of southwestern Palestine. Iron Age sites, both small and large, probably remain hidden under sand dunes along the Gaza coast. Since traditional exploration techniques cannot be used to identify these remains, it is worth investigating new remote-sensing technology (such as shuttle-mounted side-looking radar [Synthetic Aperture Radar]) that can detect large structures hidden under sand dunes. Given that the material culture assemblages from the various excavation projects discussed above are located in different countries, it would be most fruitful to establish a joint international survey and excavation project devoted to a greater understanding of the picture of settlement in Iron Age Gaza. Further exploration of the archaeological mound of ancient Gaza would be an essential component of such a project.

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Bibliography Albright, W. F. 1938 The Chronology of a South Palestinian City, Tell el-ʿAjjûl. The American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literature 55: 337–59. Bienkowski, P., and van der Steen, E. 2001 Tribes, Trade, and Towns: A New Framework for the Late Iron Age in Southern Jordan and the Negev. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 323: 21–47. Burdajewicz, M. 2000 Gaza pendant les périodes du Bronze moyen et récent et de l’Âge du Fer. Pp. 31–39 in Gaza méditerranéenne: Histoire et archéologie en Palestine, ed. J.-B. Humbert. Paris: Errance. Butt, G. 1995 Life at the Crossroads: A History of Gaza. Nicosia: Rimal. Dothan, T. 1982 The Philistines and Their Material Culture. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1993 Deir el-Balaḥ. Pp. 343–47 in vol. 1 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2010 Iron Age II Pottery. Pp. 153–61 in Deir el-Balaḥ—Excavations in 1977–1982 in the Cemetery and Settlement II: The Finds, ed. T. Dothan and B. Brandl. Qedem 50. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Dothan, T., and Adler, A. 2010 Iron Age I Pottery. Pp. 145–51 in Deir el-Balaḥ—Excavations in 1977–1982 in the Cemetery and Settlement II: The Finds, ed. T. Dothan and B. Brandl. Qedem 50. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Dothan, T., and Dothan, M. 1992 People of the Sea: The Search for the Philistines. New York: Macmillan. Finkelstein, I. 1995 The Date of the Settlement of the Philistines in Canaan. Tel-Aviv 22: 213–39. 1996 The Archaeology of the United Monarchy: An Alternative View. Levant 28: 177–87. Fischer, P., and Sadeq, M. 2002 Tell el-ʿAjjul 2000: Second Season Preliminary Report. Egypt and the Levant 12: 109–53. Garstang, J. 1920 The Walls of Gaza. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 52: 156–57. Garstang, J.; Vincent, L.; Albright, W. F.; and Phythian-Adams, W. J. 1922 A New Chronological Classification of Palestinian Archaeology. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 7: 9. Gatt, G. 1884 Bemerkungen über Gaza und seine Umgebung. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 7: 1–14. 1888 Legende zum Plan von Gaza. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 11: 149–59. Gitin, S. 1998 Philistia in Transition: The Tenth Century bce and Beyond. Pp. 162–83 in Mediterranean Peoples in Transition: Thirteenth to Early Tenth Centuries bce, ed. S. Gitin, A. Mazar, and E. Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2010 Philistines in the Books of Kings. Pp. 301–64 in The Books of Kings: Sources, Composition, Historiography and Reception, ed. A. Lemaire and B. Halpern. Leiden: Brill. Humbert, J.-B., and Sadeq, M. 2000 Fouilles de Blakhiyah-Anthedon. Pp.  105–19 in Gaza méditerranéenne: Histoire et archéologie en Palestine, ed. J.-B. Humbert. Paris: Errance. Katzenstein, H. J. 1992 Gaza: Pre-Hellenistic. Pp. 912–15 in vol. 2 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. D. N. Freedman et al. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday. Killebrew, A. E. 2010 Canaanite Pottery. Pp. 75–109 in Deir el-Balaḥ—Excavations in 1977–1982 in the Cemetery and Settlement II: The Finds, ed. T. Dothan and B. Brandl. Qedem 50. Jerusalem: Hebrew University.

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Mazar, A. 1997 Iron Age Chronology: A Reply to I. Finkelstein. Levant 29: 157–67. 2005 The Debate over the Chronology of the Iron Age in the Southern Levant: Its History, the Current Situation and a Suggested Resolution. Pp. 15–30 in The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science, ed. T. E. Levy and T. Higham. London: Equinox. Noort, E. 1994 Die Seevölker in Palästina. Palaestina antique 8. Kampen: Pharos. Oren, E. D. 1993 Ruqeish. Pp. 1293–94 in vol. 4 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Oren, E. D., and Yekutieli, Y. 1992 Taur Ikhbeineh: Earliest Evidence for Egyptian Interconnections. Pp. 361–84 in The Nile Delta in Transition—4th–3rd Millennium b.c.: Proceedings of the Seminar Held in Cairo, Oct. 1990, at the Netherlands Institute of Archaeology and Arabic Studies, ed. E. C. M. van den Brink. Tel Aviv: van den Brink. Phythian-Adams, W. J. 1923a Reports on Soundings at Gaza, Etc. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 55: 11–17. 1923b Second Report on Soundings at Gaza. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 55: 18–30. 1923c The Problem of “Deserted Gaza.” Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 55: 30–36. Pritchard, J. B. 1969 Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. 3rd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rainey, A. F., and Notley, R. S. 2006 The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World. Jerusalem: Carta. Sadeq, M. 2005 Urban Development in South-Western Palestine and Its Implications: A Historical and Archaeological Study in View of the Gaza Region. Pp. 231–43 in Tutela: Conservazione e valorizzazione del patrimonio culturale della Palestina, ed. F. Maniscalco. Mediterraneum 5. Naples: Massa. Stager, L. E. 1996 Ashkelon and the Archaeology of Destruction: Kislev 604 b.c.e. Eretz-Israel 25 ( Joseph Aviram Volume): 61*–74*. Wright, G. E. 1961 The Archaeology of Palestine. Pp. 73–112 in The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of William Foxwell Albright, ed. G. E. Wright. London: Routledge.

Tobacco Pipes and the Ophir Expedition to Southern Sinai: Archaeological Evidence of Tobacco Smoking among 18th- and 20th-Century Bedouin Squatters Benjamin Adam Saidel East Carolina University

Introduction Itzhaq Beit-Arieh’s excavations at the site of Nabi Salah in southern Sinai unearthed “Canaanite” material culture that provided a means to date this settlement to the Early Bronze Age II (Beit-Arieh 1974; 2003: 11–30, 273). The presence of Early Bronze Age II material culture at this site prompted him to launch a large-scale survey project in order to ascertain the scope of this period in portions of central and southern Sinai (Beit-Arieh 2003: 273). Beit-Arieh and his colleagues surveyed 1,700 sq. km and located 306 sites that ranged in date from the Pre-Pottery Neolithic A through the Mamluk periods (Beit-Arieh 2003: 273, 275–76). Among the artifacts collected by this project were three undated “smoking pipes” (Beit-Arieh 2003: 288, fig. 2; 301, fig. 3; 304, fig. 2) and an additional artifact that may be a roughout of a stone smoking pipe (Beit-Arieh 2003: 302, fig. 2). Using parallels drawn from archaeology and ethnography, I date the clay and stone smoking pipes to the 18th and 20th centuries c.e., respectively. These smoking devices, when combined with ethnohistoric sources, shed light on four aspects of Bedouin society in southern Sinai (fig. 1): first, some Bedouin acquired their clay smoking pipes through exchange with the outside world; second, the Bedouin used stone as Author’s note: This essay is written in honor of Sy Gitin. As director of the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, he has built and continues to nurture a thriving, stimulating, and inclusive community. Aside from tending to the daily tasks of managing an underfunded institution, Sy has also shepherded numerous newly minted Ph.D.s through their transition from graduate school to their first academic position. I have always valued his open-door policy and thank him for his advice, friendship, and humor (“Yeah, yeah, yeah”). I also thank Aaron Brody, Robert Mullins, and John Spencer for their comments on this manuscript.

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Fig. 1.  Regional map illustrating the general location of the Sinai Peninsula (top). Map of southern Sinai illustrating the archaeological sites that contain tobacco pipes (bottom). The top map is redrawn after Google Earth, while the inset is redrawn and modified after Beit-Arieh 2003 (inside back cover).

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Fig. 2.  The various parts of a clay Turkish tobacco pipe. Redrawn after Simpson 1990.

a raw material in order to make smoking pipes and household impedimenta; third, ethno­historic sources demonstrate that the Sinai Bedouin smoked the chibouk in a different manner from their contemporaries in the agricultural and urban sectors of Egypt and Palestine; fourth, the smoking pipes are evidence of Bedouin squatter occupations.

The Chibouk Two of the four artifacts are clay stem-sockets from Turkish smoking pipes. The Turkish chibouk is a three-piece smoking pipe, comprising a clay pipe head, a shaft, and a mouthpiece (fig. 2; Robinson 1983: 267, fig. 1; 1985: 154, fig. 1). In the Aegean and Near East, this type of pipe is found in archaeological deposits that vary in date from the late 17th century through the early 20th century c.e. (e.g., Robinson 1983; 1985; Simpson 2000). The appearance of clay pipe heads in archaeological contexts is

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Fig. 3.  Tobacco pipes collected by the Ophir Expedition. (A) Clay tobacco pipe from Site 1039. (B) Clay tobacco pipe from Site 1051. (C) Stone smoking pipe from Site 1023. (D) Roughout of a stone smoking pipe from Site 1041. Pipes A–D are redrawn and modified after Beit-Arieh 2003: Site 1023, 288, fig. 2; Site 1039, 301, fig. 3, 302; Site 1041, fig. 2, 304; Site 1051, fig. 2.

interpreted as evidence for the adoption and spread of tobacco smoking from the New World to the Old World (e.g., Robinson 1983; 1985; Simpson 1990; Baram 1999). In the literature on clay smoking pipes, it is often assumed that these implements were used for smoking tobacco (e.g., Robinson 1983; 1985; Simpson 1990: 8). Chemical tests on the clay pipe assemblage from Suba in Israel have concluded that the majority of clay smoking pipes were used for tobacco (Simpson 2000: 147, 171 n. 2), confirming previous assumptions (Simpson 2000: 150, no. 25; 163, nos. 149, 161). Given the absence of evidence for clay tobacco pipes prior to the 17th century, it is clear that they are associated with the introduction of tobacco and subsequently were also used for smoking hashish (e.g., Stewart 1857: 51; Robinson 1985: 150–51 n. 4; Simpson 1990: 8–9). 1

The Smoking Pipes The clay smoking pipes collected by the Ophir Expedition in the Sinai are dated using parallels from the Ottoman and British Mandate period village of Suba in Israel (Simpson 2000). This village is located approximately 7 km west of Jerusalem. It is 1. Within the clay tobacco pipe assemblage from Khirbet Hatara, there is one group of smoking devices identified as “poppy-headed” pipes (Matney 1997: 74–75; 79, nos. 4–5; 82, nos. 21, 24; 83, nos. 25, 26(?); 84, nos. 31, 34). The form and incisions found on this type of smoking pipe resemble an “inverted poppy” (Matney 1997: 75); however, Matney maintains that this form of smoking pipe was used “only for the consumption of tobacco and that its similarity to the opium poppy is purely fortuitous” (Matney 1997: 75).

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constructed on top of and within the remains of Belmont Castle, a Crusader period fortress (Pringle 2000: 17–20; Barak and Kark 2009: 1–5). The clay tobacco pipes in the Suba assemblage range in date from the 17th to early 20th centuries c.e. This well-published assemblage is often used as a source for dating clay smoking pipes found at other sites located in the southern Levant and greater Near East (e.g., Simpson 2002: 160; al-Senussi and Le Quesne 2007: 175–76; Matney et al. 2007: 28; Saidel 2008: 60–66). Beit-Arieh and his associates (2003: 301, fig. 3 top; 304, fig. 2) collected two clay smoking pipes from Sites 1039 and 1051, respectively (figs. 3:A, B). 2 These two artifacts comprised the portion of the smoking pipe known as the stem-socket. This is the part of the chibouk where the shaft would have been inserted into the clay pipe head. These pipe heads are similar in form to 18th-century Splash-Glazed pipes found at Suba (Simpson 2000: 151, fig. 13:2, nos. 33, 34). A fragment of a broken smoking pipe comprising the stem-socket was recovered at Site 1023. In contrast to the examples mentioned above, the raw material used to make this pipe is not mentioned in Beit-Arieh’s caption (see fig. 3:C here; Beit-Arieh 2003: 288, fig. 2). The stem-socket of this pipe is not similar in form to the clay tobacco pipes found at Suba. Rather, I suggest that this smoking device is similar in form and design to the limestone tobacco pipes that were made and used by the Bedouin in Sinai (e.g., Goren 1999: 36, no. 35; Yisraeli 2006: 267, fig. 275:‫[ א‬see larger pipe with wooden stem and tweezers attached to stem by chain]) (here, fig. 3:C). 3 Illustrations of these stone smoking pipes are unusual, and those that have been published are broadly dated between the 1930s and 1970s (Murray 1935: 84, fig. 8; Goren 1999: 36, no. 35). Therefore, this broken smoking pipe is attributed to this period. A “worked stone” (Beit-Arieh 2003: 302, fig. 2) was collected from Site 1041 by Beit-Arieh’s team. This artifact measures approximately 5 cm in length, 4 cm in width, and 3 cm in height (fig. 3:D). At one end of this worked stone, there is a bowl measuring approximately 1 cm in diameter and 2 cm in depth. The bottom of this concavity is perforated by the tip of a conical-shaped shaft that measures less than 2 cm in length. Based on the location of the horizontal and vertical perforations, I propose 2.  The reader is referred to Beit-Arieh’s monograph for a thorough description of Sites 1023, 1039, 1041, and 1051 (Beit-Arieh 2003: 287–88, 299–301, 302, 304). 3.  The same stone pipe appears to be illustrated in both Goren’s exhibition catalog (1999: 36, no. 35) and Yisraeli’s Ph.D. thesis (2006: 267, fig. 275:‫[ א‬the larger of the two pipes in this image]). The Bedouin artifacts in Goren’s publication were drawn from the collections of the Israel Museum and the Museum of Bedouin Culture—Joe Alon Center, Kibbutz Lahav. In Goren’s catalog, the terms Lahav and TIMJ (Goren 1999: copyright page) accompany each artifact description to denote where the artifact is curated. The catalog description accompanying this stone pipe does not indicate where it is housed. A similar stone smoking pipe, from the collection of the Museum of Bedouin Culture—Joe Alon Center is illustrated in Yisraeli’s Ph.D. thesis. Given the similarities in the appearance of these two pipes, I suggest that the same pipe is illustrated in both Goren’s and Yisraeli’s publications.

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that this artifact is a roughout of a stone smoking pipe. The positioning of the vertical and horizontal perforations on this artifact is similar in design to those found on a Bedouin stone smoking pipe from Sinai (e.g., Baram 1996: 192–93; compare figs. 3d–4 in this essay).

Discussion and Conclusion The tobacco pipes dated above provide additional information on Bedouin lifeways in southern Sinai. The clay pipe heads found at Sites 1039 and 1051 are potential evidence of long-distance exchange because the Sinai Bedouin did not make clay smoking pipes that are similar in form, finish, and decoration to the pipes found in the agricultural and urban portions of Egypt and Palestine (e.g., Simpson 2000). 4 The nature of exchange between the Bedouin and the inhabitants of Cairo and Suez raises the possibility that the Bedouin acquired some clay tobacco pipes that had originated in Cairo or Suez (e.g., Rabinowitz 1985). 5 The broken stone pipe recovered from Site 1023 could have been acquired via long-distance exchange. Jarvis reports that some Bedouin in Sinai smoked tobacco in stone smoking pipes that originated from central Arabia. Unfortunately, Jarvis does not mention how the Bedouin obtained these pipes (e.g., Jarvis 1936; 1938: 296); nor does he mention why they wanted them. Alternatively, one cannot rule out the possibility that the stone pipe from Site 1023 was made by Bedouin in southern Sinai. I suggest that the roughout from Site 1041 is evidence for the local manufacture of stone tobacco pipes. This proposal is supported by ethnographic and ethnohistoric sources that demonstrate that the Sinai Bedouin made stone tobacco pipes (e.g., Goren 1999: 34–36). Jennings-Bramley (1906: 258), for example, provides a brief description of some of the stone smoking pipes that were made by the Bedouin: “Some of these bowls are made out of a soft white stone which is found in the country. Very roughly cut, and of a most inconvenient shape, these pipes are often little more than a straight hollow tube, with a perforated piece across the centre, which prevents the substance smoked from being drawn into the mouth.” Besides the stone tobacco pipes, the Sinai Bedouin also made a variety of implements out of stone, such as mortars, pestles, and grinding stones (e.g., Palmer 1871: 82; Goren 1999: 34–36; Avner 2007: 34). Apparently, some Bedouin continued to knap rotary grinding stones out of limestone and granite until the 1970s (Goren 1999: 34, 35, fig. 32; Avner 2007: 34, fig. 32). Among the Ahaywat tribe, the skill and knowl4.  Milwright noted that Bedouin and villagers in southern Jordan used handmade, unburnished, undecorated clay tobacco pipes (Milwright 2000: 200; 2010: 178); however, these crude smoking pipes are not illustrated in his publication (2000: 200). 5.  Jarvis reported that some Sinai Bedouin smoked tobacco in gray-colored, clay smoking pipes; perhaps these tobacco pipes were manufactured in Gaza and/or Faluja in Palestine (e.g., Yisraeli 2006: 264, Type 1; 265, Types 2–3; 266, Type 4).

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Fig. 4.  Profile view of a “softstone” Bedouin tobacco pipe from the Meshorer collection (Baram 1996: 192). The original illustration of this smoking pipe does not contain a scale, and the text does not mention the dimensions of this tobacco pipe.

edge necessary to make such tools was passed down from father to son (Goren 1999: 34). Historically speaking, grinding stones were one of a number of goods that the Sinai Bedouin sold to Egyptians in order to acquire foodstuffs and commodities that they needed for their subsistence (Palmer 1871: 82; Goren 1999: 34). Ethnohistoric sources demonstrate that some Sinai Bedouin smoked the chibouk in a different manner from their contemporaries who lived in agricultural and urban areas of Egypt and Palestine ( Jenning-Bramely 1906: 258): “Some Bedouins have stems to their pipes, but by far the greater number smoke out of the bowl, that is, the very short earthen stem of the bowl into which the pipe-stick should be inserted.” The smoking pipes collected by the Ophir expedition provide archaeological evidence of Bedouin squatter occupations. The four smoking pipes were found at the same archaeological sites that contained extensive architectural remains from the Early Bronze Age II (Beit-Arieh 2003: 287, Site 1023; 299, Site 1039; 302, Site 1041) and Byzantine (Beit-Arieh 2003: 304, Site 1051) periods. The presence of pipes at these locations indicates that some Bedouin sought shelter among these ruins during the 18th and mid-20th centuries. Evidence of similar squatter occupations is also found in the Negev Highlands (e.g., Avni 1992: 27, Site 1; 36, Site 23; 127, Site 272; Rosen 1994: 41, Site 34; 76, Site 130). The activities and patterns of behavior mentioned above are not unique to the residents of southern Sinai. In Arabia, portions of the Bedouin population dispensed with the stem and smoked directly from the stem-socket (e.g., Saidel 2000: 208, fig. 4 [individual smoking pipe and holding matchlock musket to the left of the photograph]). The Bedouin who lived in Arabia and the Levant also crafted smoking pipes, personal ornaments, (Doughty 1888: 180) and household impedimenta, such as “coffee-pestles” and “hand mills,” out of stone (e.g., Doughty 1888: 180; Musil 1928:91, 127).

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The smoking pipes recovered by Beit-Arieh and his associates provide a glimpse into craft production and exchange as practiced by the Bedouin in southern Sinai. Perhaps more important is that these modest artifacts are evidence that Bedouin squatter occupations can be chronologically identified in archaeological contexts.

Bibliography Avner, U. 2007 Bedouin Cultural Remains in the Eilat Region. Pp. 25–36 in On the Fringe of Society: Archaeological and Ethnoarchaeological Perspectives on Pastoral and Agricultural Societies, ed. B. A. Saidel and E. J. van der Steen. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1657. Oxford: Archaeopress. Avni, G. 1992 Map of Har Saggi Northeast (225). Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority and the Archaeological Survey of Israel. Barak, D., and Kark, R. 2009 A Micro-Study of an Arab Village in Palestine/Israel: The Case of Suba—New Methodologies and Sources. Al-Rāfidān 30: 1–12. Baram, U. 1996 Material Culture, Commodities, and Consumption in Palestine, 1500–1900, Ph.D. dissertation. University of Massachusetts, Amherst. 1999 Clay Tobacco Pipes and Coffee Cup Sherds in the Archaeology of the Middle East: Artifacts of Social Tensions from the Ottoman Past. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 3: 137–51. Beit-Arieh, I. 1974 An Early Bronze Age II Site at Nabi Salah in Southern Sinai. Tel-Aviv 1: 44–156. Beit-Arieh, I., ed. 2003 Archaeology of Sinai: The Ophir Expedition. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University and Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology. Doughty, C. M. 1888 Travels in Arabia Deserta, vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Goren, O. 1999 Traditionelle Handwerksformen der Beduinen in Israel und im Sinai/l’artisanat traditionnel des Bédouins d’Israël et du Sinaï, trans. A. G. Lessing and A.-M. F. Sharon. Jerusalem: Israel Museum. Jarvis, C. S. 1936 The Arab and His Pipe: Primitive Outfit-Bowl Carved Out of Stone. Palestine Post 12/3176: 1. Tuesday, October 27. Jerusalem. 1938 Desert and Delta. London: John Murray. Jennings-Bramley, W. E. 1906 The Bedouin of the Sinaitic Peninsula. Quarterly Statement, Palestine Exploration Quarterly 38: 250–58. Matney, T.; Rainville, L.; Köroðlu, K.; Keskin, A.; Vorderstrasse, T.; Findik, N. Ö.; and Donkin, A. 2007 Report on Excavations at Ziyaret Tepe: 2006 Season. Anatolica 33: 23–74. Milwright, M. 2000 Pottery of the Bilad al-Sham in the Ottoman Period: A Review of the Published Archaeological Evidence. Levant 32: 189–208. 2010 An Introduction to Islamic Archaeology. The New Edinburgh Islamic Surveys. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Murray, G. W. 1935 Sons of Ishmael: A Study of the Egyptian Bedouin. London: Routledge. Musil, A. 1928 The Manners and Customs of the Rwala Bedouins. New York: American Geographical Society.

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Palmer, E. H. 1871 The Desert of the Exodus: Journeys on Foot in the Wilderness of the Forty Years’ Wanderings, vol. 1. Cambridge: Deighton, Bell. Pringle, D. 2000 The Site and Its History. Pp. 13–20 in Belmont Castle: The Excavation of a Crusader Stronghold in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, ed. R. Harper and D. Pringle. British Academy Monographs in Archaeology 10. Oxford: Council for British Research in the Levant. Rabinowitz, D. 1985 Themes in the Economy of the Bedouin of South Sinai in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. International Journal of Middle East Studies 17: 211–28. Robinson, R. 1983 Clay Tobacco Pipes from the Kerameikos. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Athenische Abteilung 98: 265–84. 1985 Tobacco Pipes of Corinth and of the Athenian Agora. Hesperia 54: 149–201. Rosen, S. A. 1994 Map of Makhtesh Ramon (204). Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority and the Archaeological Survey of Israel. Saidel, B. A. 2000 Matchlocks, Flintlocks, and Saltpetre: The Chronological Implications for the Types of Firearms Used by the Bedouin during the Ottoman Period. International Journal for Historical Archaeology 4: 191–216. 2008 Smoking Out Ottoman Sites in Northern Sinai, Egypt: The Use of Clay Tobacco Pipes for Identifying the Nature of Settlements in the Ottoman Period. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 140: 55–69. Senussi, A. al-, and Le Quesne, C. 2007 Pottery. Pp. 170–235 in Quseir: An Ottoman and Napoleonic Fortress on the Red Sea Coast of Egypt, ed. C. Le Quesne. American Research Center in Egypt Conservation Series 2. New York: American Research Center in Egypt / Cairo: American University in Cairo Press. Simpson, S. J. 1990 A Brief Introduction to Ottoman Clay Pipes. Newsletter Society for Clay Pipe Research 28/1: 6–16. 2000 The Clay Pipes. Pp. 147–71 in Belmont Castle: The Excavation of a Crusader Stronghold in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, ed. R. Harper and D. Pringle. British Academy Monographs in Archaeology 10. Oxford: Council for British Research in the Levant. 2002 Ottoman Pipes from Zirʾin (Tell Jezreel). Levant 34: 159–72. Stewart, R. W. 1857 The Tent and the Khan: A Journey to Sinai and Palestine. Edinburgh: William Oliphant. Yisraeli, Y. 2006 The Black Gaza Ware from the Ottoman Period. Ph.D. Dissertation. Ben-Gurion University of the Negev.

King David in Mujīr al-Dīn’s Fifteenth-Century History of Jerusalem Robert Schick American Center of Oriental Research, Amman

Introduction Mujīr al-Dīn al-ʿUlaymī al-Ḥanbalī, the chief Islamic law court judge of Jerusalem at the end of the Mamluk period in the late 15th century, wrote an extensive history of the cities of Jerusalem and Hebron, entitled al-Uns al-Jalīl bi-Tarīkh al-Quds wa-al-Khalīl (The Splendid Recognition of the History of Jerusalem and Hebron). This work covers the history of Jerusalem, Hebron, and Palestine in general from the creation up to Mujīr al-Dīn’s own day and contains a lengthy account of pre-Islamic times. It includes extended coverage of the reign of King David as well as the previous period from the time of Joshua through the period of the judges to the time of Samuel and King Saul. Mujīr al-Dīn, a resident of Jerusalem for most of his life, was in an unrivaled position to bring his own local knowledge to bear in his historical coverage of Jerusalem, so what he wrote is of potentially greater interest than the accounts of the many other pre-modern Muslim Qurʾān commentators and historians. This essay presents a translation of Mujīr al-Dīn’s account of King David and then examines some characteristics of his account, including the choices he made about what sources of information to use (see my companion articles about Jesus and the Umayyads and Abbasids: Schick 2005; 2012). Mujīr al-Dīn Abū al-Yumn ʿAbd al-Raḥmān b. Muḥammad al-ʿUmarī al-ʿUlaymī al-Ḥanbalī, most commonly known as Mujīr al-Dīn, was a native of Jerusalem, born in 860/1456. His father was the Ḥanbalī judge in the Palestinian cities of al-Ramlah and Jerusalem, and Mujīr al-Dīn himself, after study in Cairo, became a Ḥanbalī judge, first in al-Ramlah in 889/1484, and then in Jerusalem as well. He became the chief judge in Jerusalem, in which position he continued until just before his death in Jerusalem in 927 A.H. /1520 c.e., four years after the Ottoman conquest (see Busse 1993; al-ʿAsalī 1985; al-Ansārī 1986). In addition to his duties as judge, Mujīr al-Dīn was a prolific scholar, whose most famous work is Al-Uns al-Jalīl, his fundamentally 265

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important, lengthy history of Jerusalem and Hebron that he wrote between 900/1495 and 902/1496 (Mujīr al-Dīn 1999; 1973; al-Ḥusaynī and Silwādī 1988). Mujīr al-Dīn’s account of King David covers some 14 pages in the 1973 edition, placing it among the longer accounts found in pre-modern Muslim histories and Qurʾān commentaries. Although a definitive critical edition of Al-Uns al-Jalīl has not yet been produced, the text translated here is that of the 1973 edition (1:103–17); the 1999 edition (1:201–18) has only a few minor textual variants for the passage under consideration here.

The Translation The Reign of Our Lord David, Upon Him Be Peace I say—and with God is success—after our lord Moses the eloquent, upon him be peace, died, Joshua (Yūshaʿ), upon him be peace, took up the leadership of the Children of Israel. He was a descendant of Joseph the son of Jacob, upon them be peace. God sent him as a messenger, ordering him to kill the giants, and he marched with the Children of Israel to Jericho of the valley. They surrounded it for six months, and when the seventh month came they blew trumpets and the people shouted all together and the walls fell. They entered the city and fought the inhabitants and attacked and defeated the giants and killed them. That was on a Friday. A remnant of them remained, so when the sun had almost set and the night of Saturday had begun, Joshua said, “O God turn back the sun for me,” and he asked the sun to stop until he had taken revenge on the enemies of God, the Exalted, before the start of Saturday. The sun stopped, and daytime was extended by an hour until he killed them all. He pursued the kings of Syria and made killing them allowable. Joshua ruled Syria and sent out his governors and continued to lead the Children of Israel for 28 years. Then Joshua died at the age of 120 and was buried in Kaf l Ḥārith, a village in the districts of Nablus. He died 28 years after the death of Moses. It is also said that he is buried in al-Maʿarrah. Then a number of kings, one after the other, ruled the Children of Israel. It is not necessary to mention their names, because the goal here is brevity. Then Samuel (Shamūʾīl), upon him be peace, ruled over them. He was born in a village called Sīluwā, said to be a village now known as al-Sīlah in the districts of the Nablus mountains. He began prophesying when he reached the age of 40, and he administered the Children of Israel for 21 years. The end of those 21 years was the end of the rulers and judges of the Children of Israel, 493 years after the death of Moses, upon him be peace. Then the Children of Israel came to Samuel and asked him to establish a king among them. So he established among them Shāūl, who was Ṭālūt, the son of Qays of the tribe of Benjamin. Ṭālūt was not one of their nobles; it is said that he was a shepherd, a water carrier, or a tanner. Ṭālūt ruled for two years and fought Goliath ( Jālūt),

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one of the giants of the Canaanites. His rule was in the regions of Palestine, and he was exceptionally strong and tall. When they appeared for battle, Ṭālūt ordered David (Dāūd), upon him be peace, the youngest of the sons of his father, to meet Goliath in combat after he saw in him the signs that indicated that he was the one who would kill Goliath, namely, ointment that would f low onto the head of the chosen one. Ṭālūt also brought an iron breastplate and said that the person who killed Goliath would fill this breastplate. Then when David filled the breastplate, and the ointment f lowed onto his head and those signs came to pass, Ṭālut ordered him to meet Goliath in battle. David met and killed Goliath when he was 30 years old. After that, Samuel died at the age of 52, and the Children of Israel buried him at night and mourned for him. The people loved David, turning to him with affection. Ṭālūt was greatly jealous of him and intended to kill him time and time again. David f led and remained on his guard. Ṭālūt later regretted his intention to kill David. Then Ṭālūt set out to raid Palestine and fight them until he and his sons were killed in the raids. His death was at the end of the 495th year after the death of Moses, upon him be peace. Then his son Ashur Yūshat ruled after him. He ruled over 11 of the tribes of the Children of Israel. Only the tribe of Judah, the son of Jacob, was outside his rule. Our lord David ruled them; he was a descendant of that aforementioned Judah. Then David, upon him be peace, ruled over them all. He was David, the son of Bīshī, the son of ʿŪfīl, the son of Būʿaz, the son of Salmūn, the son of Majshūn, the son of ʿĪnārāb, the son of Radam, the son of Ḥaṭrūn, the son of Yāriḍ, the son of Judah, the son of Jacob, the son of Isaac, the son of Abraham, the friend of God, upon him be peace [the 1999 edition has variant spellings of these names: Mujīr al-Dīn 1999: 204]. The place of David was Ḥabrūn. His kingship was consolidated, and all of the tribes became obedient to him when he was 38 years old. He moved to noble Jerusalem and then carried out many conquests in al-Shām in the territory of Palestine and other regions. Luqmān the wise lived at the time of David, upon him be peace. He was a judge among the Children of Israel. God gave him wisdom, but he was not a prophet. His grave is in the village of Ṣarafand, outside the city of al-Ramlah. Above it is a memorial that is an object of visitation. Qatādah said that his grave is in al-Ramlah between its mosque and the market. The graves are there of 70 prophets who died after Luqmān on one day from hunger. The Children of Israel expelled them from Jerusalem and banished them to al-Ramlah and then surrounded them there, and those are their graves. God bestowed on David what is recorded about him in His glorious book. God, the Exalted, said, “We bestowed favor on David from ourselves” (Q. 34:10), meaning prophethood and the book or kingship or the good voice and malleable iron and other

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things that characterized David. And His, the Exalted, saying, “O mountains sing praise with him” (Q. 34:10), meaning “praise me with him” or “wail with him,” and His saying, “the birds” (Q. 34:10) that inclined to the place of the mountains. And it is said that it means “We made obedient,” that is, ordered the birds to praise God with him. When David called, wailing, the mountains answered with their echo, and the birds clung to him from above. The echo of the mountains that people hear today is from that. It is said that when David, upon him be peace, passed through the mountains and praised God, the mountains would begin to answer him with praise toward what he praised. And His, the Exalted, saying, “We made iron soft for him” (Q. 34:10) until it was like wax and dough in his hands; he worked what he wanted from it without fire or use of a hammer. The reason for that was that, when David ruled the Children of Israel, it was his custom to go out among the people in disguise. When he saw a person whom he did not know, he would approach him and ask about David. David would say to him, “What do you say about David, this ruler of yours, what kind of man is he?” And they praised him and spoke well of him. God sent an angel to him in human form, and when David saw him, he approached him as was his custom and asked him about David. The angel replied, “Yes, the man has done well, if not for one of his characteristics.” That frightened David, who asked, “What is it, oh servant of God?” He said, “He eats and feeds his family and supports himself from the treasury.” David took heed and asked God to provide something apart from the treasury for him to enrich and support himself and feed his family. So God made iron malleable for him and taught him how to manufacture shields; he was the first who did that. It is said that he sold each shield for 4,000 dirhams, from which he ate and fed his family and gave charity to the poor and wretched. It is said that he made a shield each day and sold it for 6,000 dirhams and spent 2,000 dirhams on his family and himself and gave 4,000 dirhams as alms to the poor of the Children of Israel. The messenger of God said that David only ate from the work of his hands. The Story of Uriah When David was 58 years old, in the 22nd year of his reign, his famous incident with Uriah (Awriyā) and his wife occurred. The story is what the commentators have transmitted about His, the Exalted, saying, “And has come to you the story of the opponents when they scaled the chamber?” (Q. 38:21). This verse is from the story of the testing of David, upon him be peace. Scholars of reports of the prophets differ about its reason for revelation. One group says that the reason was that one day he desired the place of his forefathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and asked his Lord to test him like he had tested them and to give him the favor that he had given them. It is narrated that David had divided his time into three days. One day he judged between the people, one day he devoted to the worship of his Lord, and one day was for his women and his own affairs.

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He found the favor of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in what he read in the previous books and he said, “O Lord, show me the good, all of it went with my forefathers who were before me.” God, the Exalted, inspired him, “They were tested with tests with which you have not been tested, and they were patient regarding it. Abraham was tested with Nimrod and his fire and the sacrifice of his son Isaac. Isaac was tested with the sacrifice and the loss of his sight, and Jacob was tested by sorrow and the loss of his sight due to the loss of his son Joseph.” David replied, “Lord, if you test me with what you tested them, I would also be patient.” So God inspired him, “I will test you in such and such a month and such and such a day, so be on guard.” When the day came that God had promised, David entered his chamber, closed the door and began to pray and recite the Psalms. While he was doing that, Satan came and appeared in the form of a multicolored dove of gold. It is said that its wings were of pearl and chrysolite. It alighted in front of him, and its beauty amazed him. David reached out to take it and show it to the Children of Israel for them to be amazed by the ability of God, the Exalted. When he attempted to take it, it f lew away, but not far enough to lead him to despair of catching it. He reached out to take it, and it moved away again from its place. David followed it, and it f lew away until it stopped in a small window. When he went over to take it, it f lew out of the small window. David looked to where it landed in order to send for someone to hunt for it there, and he saw a woman bathing in a garden at the edge of a pool. It is said that David saw her bathing on a terrace that belonged to her. He saw in her a most beautifully formed woman, and he was amazed by her beauty. It happened that she glanced up and noticed his shadow, and so she shook her hair, covering her body with it. That increased his amazement about her. He asked about her and was told that she was Shāriʿ, the wife of Uriah, the son of Hanānā, and that her husband was away in the raids in the Balqāʾ with Ayyūb, the son of Sūriyā, the son of David’s sister. Some of them mention that David wrote to Ayyūb, the son of his sister, to send Uriah to a certain place and bring him before the Ark of the Covenant. Whoever came to the Ark was not allowed to return behind it until God conquered by his hands or he became a martyr. So Ayyūb presented him before the Ark, and God conquered by his hands. Ayyūb then wrote a message to David in which he informed him of what God had conquered by Uriah’s hands. Then David wrote to Ayyūb a second time to send Uriah to such and such a place to conquer it also. So Ayyūb sent him and he conquered it for him, and Ayyūb wrote to David about that. Then David wrote to Ayyūb a third time to send him to a stronger enemy, and he was killed the third time. When the waiting period for the woman had ended, David married her. She was the mother of Solomon (Sulaymān), upon him be peace. When David came to the wife of Uriah, he did not remain long with her before God sent two angels to him in the form of two men on the day of his worship. They wanted to come to him, but the guard stopped them, so they scaled the chamber in which he was. He did not notice them as he prayed in the chamber, until they were sitting in front of him. It is said that

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they were Gabriel ( Jibrīl) and Michael (Mīkhāʾīl). Thus His, the Exalted, saying, “And has there come to you the story of the opponents when they scaled the chamber?” (Q. 38:21). They went up high, and it is said that they scaled the wall and enclosure to their full height. And His, the Exalted, saying, “When they came to David and he was afraid of them” (Q. 38:22). He was afraid of them when they took him by surprise in his chamber without his permission and he asked, “Why have you entered upon me?” They said, “Do not fear, two opponents”—that is, “We are two opponents,” “one of whom has wronged the other.” “We have come to you to judge between us.” “So judge between us with truth and do not deviate”—that is, “do not go astray”—“and guide us to the even path”—that is, “guide us to the correct way” (Q. 38:22). And David said to them, “Speak,” and one of the two said, “This is my brother”— that is, “of my religion and my way”—“he has 99 ewes”—meaning “wives”—“while I have one ewe”—that is, “a single wife”; the Arabs use the term “ewe” to refer to a woman—“Then he said, ‘Commit her to my care’ ”—meaning “Divorce her so that I can marry her”—“and he was harsh with me”—that is, he forced me—“in speech”— that is, “in speaking” (Q. 38:23). It is said, “He compelled me due to his strength.” And all of it stands for David’s situation with Uriah, the husband of the woman whom David married, while he had 99 wives and Uriah had 1 wife, and David added her to his wives. “He [David] said, ‘He has wronged you in demanding to add your ewe to his ewes and many of the accomplices’ ”—that is, “the associates”—‘do wrong each other’— that is, “oppress each other”—‘except those who believe and do good deeds’—for they do not oppress anyone—‘and how few they are’ ”—that is, “they are few,” meaning “the ones who do good, those who do not oppress are few” (Q. 38:24). When David judged between them, the two looked at each other and laughed, and when they ascended to heaven, David knew that God had tested him, and that is His, the Exalted, saying, “and David thought”—that is, “knew for sure”—“We had tried him”—that is, “We had tested him” (Q:38:24). And from Ibn ʿAbbās, Kaʿb, and Wahb, they all said that when the two angels came to David, upon him be peace, and he judged between them and they changed their forms and ascended to the sky, he heard them saying, “The man has judged against himself.” David knew that he was the one meant by that, so he stayed prostrating for 40 days, during which time he did not raise his head except at the time of need or the prescribed prayers. Then he resumed prostrating for the full 40 days, neither eating nor drinking as he cried so much that grass sprouted around his head as he called to his lord and asked him for forgiveness. His prayer as he prostrated was: Praise be to the greatest king, who tests the creation with what he wishes. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. You let me have my way with my enemy the devil. I did not arise to fight him when he came down to me. Praise be to the creator of the divine light; you who created me. You had

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previous knowledge about what I was getting into. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. Woe to David if the cover is removed from him and it is said, “This is the sinning David.” Praise be to the creator of the divine light. By which eye will I look to you on the Day of Judgment, while the oppressors will glance furtively? Praise be to the creator of the divine light. On which foot will I stand before you on the Day of Judgment, a day when the feet of the sinners will cease? Praise be to the creator of the divine light. From where will the servant seek forgiveness if not from his lord? Praise be to the creator of the divine light. I am one who cannot withstand the heat of your sun, so how can I withstand the heat of your fire. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. I am one who cannot stand the sound of your thunder, so how can I withstand the sound of hell. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. Woe to David from the great sin that hit him. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. I am the one who acknowledged my sin. If the master does not forgive his servant, then who will forgive him? Praise be to the creator of the divine light. You know my secrets and my open things, so accept my plea. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. With your mercy forgive me my sins and do not separate me from your mercy. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. I seek protection in the light of your noble face from my sins that ruined me. Praise be to the creator of the divine light. I have confessed to you my sins and I have acknowledged my sins, so do not make me one of those who despair and do not shame me on the Day of Religion. Praise be to the creator of the light. Mujāhid said that David stayed that way for 40 days and did not raise his head until grass sprouted from the tears of his eyes and covered his head. It was called out, “O David, are you hungry, so eat, or thirsty, so drink, or naked, so be clothed.” Then he was granted something different from what he requested. He said that David wept such that the lute was stirred up, and the heat of his forehead burned him. Then God bestowed repentance and forgiveness. Wahb said that a call came to David from the highest height, “You have been forgiven.” He said, “O Lord, how so and you do not oppress anyone?” He said, “Go to the grave of Uriah and call him. I will make him hear your call, and you will be absolved.” He said that David went to the grave of Uriah, wearing the permitted clothes until he sat at his grave. Then he called, “O Uriah,” and he said, “In your presence. Who has interrupted my pleasure and awoken me?” He said, “I am David.” Uriah said, “What do you want, O prophet of God?” He replied, “I came to ask you to free me from what I did to you.” Uriah said, “What did you do to me?” He replied, “I exposed you to death.” Uriah said, “You exposed me to heaven and you are free from me.” God inspired him, “O David, do you not know that I am a just judge, and I do not judge with harassment. Did you not inform him that you married his wife?” So David went back to him and called him, and Uriah answered him, asking, “Who has

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interrupted my pleasure?” And David said, “I am David.” Uriah said, “O prophet of God, did I not free you and forgive you?” He replied, “Yes, but I only sent you to your death because of your wife, whom I married. My desire is that you absolve me.” He said that Uriah was silent and did not answer. Then David called out again, but Uriah did not answer, and then a third time, and still he did not answer. David stood at Uriah’s grave and began to weep and pour dirt on his head, as he called out, “Woe to David when the balance is weighed with the scales. Praise be to the creator of the light. Woe to David, then the long woe to him when he withdraws with the sinners to the fire. Praise be to the creator of the light.” A call from the sky came to him, while he was saying, “Praise be to the creator of the light.” “O David, I have forgiven your sin and have had mercy on your weeping and answered your cry and lessened your stumbling.” David said, “O Lord, how so, while my opponent has not forgiven me?” He said, “O David, on the Day of Judgment I will give him something as recompense that his eyes have not seen and his ears have not heard, and I will say to him, ‘My servant is pleased,’ and he will say, ‘O Lord, this is for me, although my work has not reached him?’ Then I will say, ‘This substitute is for my servant David,’ and I will ask for you from him, and he will give you to me.” He said, “O Lord, now I know that you have forgiven me.” Then that is His, the Exalted, saying, “And he sought forgiveness from his Lord, bowed prostrating, and turned repentantly” (Q. 38:24), that is, prostrating referring to the prostration with rakʿahs, because in both of them there is bowing. It means that he prostrated after he did a rakʿah, that is, prostrated and turned repentantly. “Then We forgave him that”— meaning “that sin”—“and that he had a near approach with Us and beautiful place of return” (Q. 38:25). And the good place of return and the place of reversal is on the Day of Resurrection after forgiveness. Wahb said that, when God forgave him, David cried for his sin for 30 years, in which his tears did not dry up day or night. David committed that sin when he was 70 years old. He divided time after that sin into four parts. One day for judging between the Children of Israel; one day for his women; one day for wandering in the deserts, the mountains, the coast, and the rugged places; and one day secluded in one of his buildings in which there were 4,000 chambers. The priests joined him, and he cried over his soul with them, and they helped him with that. When his day for wandering came, he went out to the deserts and raised his voice with the Psalms, and the trees, rugged places, sand, birds, and wild animals cried with him until their tears f lowed like rivers. Then he went to the mountains and raised his voice with the Psalms and cried, and the mountains, stones, birds, and beasts cried with him until the rivers f lowed from their crying. Then he went to the coast and raised his voice and cried, and the animals, beasts of the sea, water birds, and beasts of prey cried with him, and when night fell, he returned.

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When his day for crying over his soul came, his caller called out, “Today is the day for David to cry over his soul, so let there be present whoever will help him.” So he would enter the house in which the chambers were, and three carpets of coarse fabric with a filling of fiber would be laid out for him to sit on. Four thousand ascetics would come wearing hooded cloaks and with canes in their hands, and they would sit in those chambers. Then David would raise his voice, crying and wailing over his soul, and the ascetics would raise their voices with his and not stop crying until the carpets were drowned from his tears, and David fell over f lopping like a chicken. Then his son Solomon would come and carry him away as David took some of those tears in the palms of his hands and wiped his face with them, saying, “O Lord, forgive due to what You see, for if the crying of David were compared to the crying of the people of the world, it would have been its equal.” Wahb said that David did not raise his head until the angel said to him, “The first of your affair is a sin, and the last of it is disobedience. Raise your head.” And he raised his head, and he did not drink water for the rest of his life without mixing it with his tears or eat any food without moistening it with his tears. Al-Awzāʿī mentioned, going back to the Prophet, may God bless him and grant him peace, that he said that the eyes of David were like two water skins dripping water and that tears made furrows in his face like the furrows of water in the earth. Wahb said that when God forgave David, he said, “O Lord, you have forgiven me, so how can I not forget my sins and seek forgiveness for myself and sinners until the Day of Resurrection.” He said that then God branded his sins onto his right hand, and he did not raise food or drink without crying when he saw it. David did not rise to speak to people without stretching out the palms of his hands, and, as he faced the people to see the brand of his sins, he asked forgiveness for sinners before himself. And from al-Ḥasan: David, after his sin, only sat with sinners, saying, “Come to David, the sinner,” and he did not drink anything unless it was mixed with his tears. He made dry barley bread in his bowl and did not cease to cry until it was moistened from his tears. And he strewed salt and ash on it, which he ate, saying, “This is the food of sinners.” Before his sin, David stayed up half the night and fasted every alternate day, while after his sin, he fasted every day and stayed up the whole night. If he remembered the punishment of God, he dismembered his limbs, and if he remembered the mercy of God, they came back together. Part of the story is that the wild animals and birds used to listen to his recitation, but when he did what he did, they no longer listened. It is narrated that they said, “O David, your sin took away the sweetness of your voice.” Our Lord David’s, Upon Him Be Peace, Construction of the Temple of Jerusalem From Rāfiʿ ibn ʿUmayrah. He said that he heard the messenger of God, may God bless him and grant him peace, say that God, the Blessed and Exalted, said to David,

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“O David, build for me a house in the earth.” Then David built a house for himself before the house that God, the Exalted, ordered him to build. God, the Exalted, inspired him, “O David, you built your house before my house?” David answered, “Lord, thus you said concerning your judgment about a selfish king.” Then he began to build the mosque, meaning the blessed house. From Wahb, when God, to Him be majesty and glory, forgave David, upon him be peace, he had already built many cities, and the affairs of the Children of Israel were organized. He wanted to build Jerusalem (Bayt al-Maqdis) and build a dome on the rock in the place that God blessed in Ayliā. And the condition of the Children of Israel was good, and they filled Syria, and Palestine and the surrounding area was narrow for them. David, upon him be peace, wanted to know their number and ordered them to be counted in their lineages and tribes, but it was too much for them, and they were unable to count them. He narrated that God, the Exalted, inspired David, upon him be peace, when the oppression of the Children of Israel increased, “I have sworn with my majesty to test them with famine for two years or cause the enemy to have power over them for two months or the plague for three days.” David gathered them and had them choose among the three. They said, “You are our prophet, and you are looking after us more than ourselves, so you choose for us.” He said, “Hunger is a severe test that no one can endure. As for the enemy and death, I inform you that if you choose to empower the enemy nothing will remain for you. Death by the hand of God, the Exalted, will kill you at your appointed times in your houses. So entrust that to God, the Exalted, for he is more merciful to you.” He chose the plague for them and ordered them to prepare for it and to wear their shrouds and bring out their women, mothers, and children in front of them, with them behind them, to the rock and the hilltop on which the mosque of Jerusalem was built. At that time it was a single hilltop. They did so and called out, “O Lord you have commanded us with truth and you love the truthful. And be truthful with us with your mercy. O God, you commanded us to free the slaves, and we ask you in your mercy to free us today. O God, you commanded us not to turn away the petitioner if he stands before our doors. We have come to you as petitioners, so do not turn us away.” Then they started to prostrate when the sun rose. God empowered the plague over them from that time until the sun ceased. Then he raised it from them. Then God inspired David, upon him be peace, “Raise your heads, for I have interceded for you with them.” Then David raised his head, and he called to them, “Raise your heads,” and they raised their heads. 170,000 of them had died. The plague hit them while they were prostrated. Then they looked at the angels walking among them with daggers in their hands. David, upon him be peace, then stood upright and ascended the rock, raising his hands and speaking to God in thanks. Then he gathered the Children of Israel and said, “God, may he be praised and exalted, has had mercy on you and pardoned

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you, so give God thanks commensurate with what he tested you.” Then they said to him, “Command us what you wish.” He said, “I do not know of any more eloquent expression of your thanks than building a mosque on this hilltop where God has had mercy upon you. Then we will build a mosque in which you and those after you will worship God and sanctify it.” They said, “We will do so,” and David asked his Lord and He permitted it, and so they agreed to build it. He narrated that, when David, upon him be peace, commanded the building of the mosque of Jerusalem, he said, “O Lord, where should we build it?” God, the Exalted said, “Where you see the angel unsheath his sword.” He said that David saw the angel in that place and so established its foundations and raised its wall up, and when it rose, it collapsed. David said, “O Lord, you commanded me to build a house for you and when it rose up, you caused it to collapse.” Then He said, “O David, I made you a vice-regent in my creation, so why did you take the place from its owner without payment? One of your sons will build it.” It is said about the meaning of this report that the place belonged to a group of the Children of Israel, each one of whom had a claim. When David requested it from them, some agreed with words and some with silence. David understood agreement from the silent ones, although some of them were not willing inwardly. David based the matter on outward appearances and built it. One of those with a claim came to the Children of Israel and said to them, “You want to build on my right although I am poor, and it is the place where I thresh and gather my food and transport it to my home due to its being nearby. If you build on it, you will harm me, so look into my situation.” They said to him, “Each one of the Children of Israel has a claim like yours, but you are the stingiest. Give it voluntarily, or we will take it from you by compulsion.” He said, “Do you find this in the judgment of David?” Then he left and complained about them to him. David called them and said to them, “Do you want to build the house of God with oppression? I do not see you, O Children of Israel, being humble to God, to Him be majesty and glory, but rather, I see that misery will engulf you.” Then David said to him, “Does it seem good to you concerning your right to sell it according to your judgment?” Then he said, “What will you give me?” David replied, “I will fulfill it for you if you want a sheep or if you want an ox or if you wish a camel.” Then he said, “O prophet of God, make it more for me, for you are buying it for God, and do not be stingy with me.” Then David said to him, “I will pass judgment, for I will give you whatever you ask.” Then he said, “Build me a wall as high as I am, and then fill it with gold.” David, upon him be peace, said to him, “Yes, it is little with God.” The man turned to the Children of Israel and said, “This, by God, is the pardoner, the truthful, and the sincere.” Then he said, “O prophet of God, God, to whom be majesty and glory, knew from me to forgive my sins and the sins of those who love me by filling the earth with gold, so how can they think that I am the stingiest one toward

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them and toward myself when what I want thereby is forgiveness for my sins and their sins, but I tried them as a mercy and compassion toward them, and I did it for God.” Then they agreed on the work of the mosque of Jerusalem. David began the work himself and placed the stone on his shoulder and put it in its place with his hand, along with the priests of the Children of Israel. He narrated that, when David had started it and raised it to the height of a man, God inspired him, “I have decided to finish it not by your hands, but by the hands of a son of yours whom I will cause to rule after you, whose name is Solomon.” David died before completing it when he was 70 years old. And something else is said. God brought down to him the Psalms, which are 150 chapters in Hebrew. In 50 of them are what they find from Bakht Naṣr and in 50 from the Romans, while in 50 are sermons and wisdom. Neither the permitted and forbidden nor the limits and judgments were in the Psalms. His death was on Saturday at the end of the 535th year after the death of Moses, upon him be peace. David ruled for 40 years. Before his death, he entrusted the rule to Solomon, his son, and entrusted him with the construction of Jerusalem, and for that he allocated several treasuries containing large quantities of gold. From Kaʿb and Wahb, David, upon him be peace, prepared for the construction of Jerusalem 100,000 bags of gold and 1,000,000 bags of leaf and 300,000 dinars to cover the house. It is remembered that the mines were inadequate for this money. Wahb said that David was buried in the church known as Gethsemane (alJīsmānīyah) to the east of Jerusalem in the valley. It is said that the grave of David, upon him be peace, is in the Zion (Ṣihyūn) church that is outside Jerusalem to the south in the hands of a group of Franks because it was his residence. In the aforementioned Zion church is a place that the Christians venerate, and it is said that the grave of David is in it. That place is now in the hands of the Muslims. We will mention what happened in the disputes between the Muslims and Christians in our time later in the events of the year 895 if God the Exalted wishes.

Other Passages about David in Al-Uns al-Jalīl Mujīr al-Dīn mentioned King David only a few other times in Al-Uns al-Jalīl. There are brief references stating that David and Solomon built the temple (e.g., 1:8; 1:118; 1:122) and that Solomon and his father, David, were buried in a single grave in Gethsemane (1:145 and 1:236). God forgave David and Solomon in Jerusalem (1:239) and made the mountains and birds obedient to David in Jerusalem (1:239—an allusion to Q. 34:10). Mujīr al-Dīn identified the chamber (miḥrāb) of David as the Citadel next to Hebron (al-Khalīl/Jaffa) Gate, which once had been David’s residence (1:340, 2:12). But he also recorded alternate locations for the miḥrāb of David as either a prayer niche to the east of the minbar in the Jāmiʿ al-Aqṣá, also known as the miḥrāb of ʿUmar (2:11–

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12) or a prayer niche in the south enclosure wall of the Masjid al-Aqṣá compound (2:11, 24, 91). He explained the discrepancy (2:12): It was mentioned earlier that the miḥrāb of David is in the fortress known as the citadel that is outside the city, for it was his residence and place of worship. It is possible that his miḥrāb in which he prayed in the fortress was in a location far from it. The location of the large miḥrāb that is inside the mosque was the place of his prayers when he entered the mosque. When ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, may God be pleased with him, came, he followed David’s example and prayed in the location of his place of worship. So the miḥrāb was called the miḥrāb of ʿUmar because he was the first one to pray in it on the day of the conquest, although originally it was the miḥrāb of David. Mujīr al-Dīn also mentioned the Gate of David and the Gate of Repentance (Bāb al-Tawbah), where God forgave David in the Masjid al-Aqṣá compound (1:280). He elsewhere identified the Gate of David as the Gate of the Chain (Bāb al-Silsilah), the gate in the west enclosure wall opening onto David Street (2:31) and the Gate of Repentance as one of the two entrances of the double gate in the east enclosure wall (the Golden Gate) (2:27). The main street from the Citadel straight east to the Masjid al-Aqṣá compound is known as David Street. As Mujīr al-Dīn explained (2:52–53), The reason for it being named David Street is that our lord David had an underground tunnel from the gate of the mosque known as the Gate of the Chain to the Citadel, which was known in ancient times as the Miḥrāb of David and where he had his residence. This underground tunnel still exists and on some occasions part of it is uncovered and is visible. It is well-constructed arched vaults. He walked from his residence to the mosque in it. Mujīr al-Dīn associated the Dome of the Chain east of the Dome of the Rock with Solomon, rather than David (1:124), unlike other Muslim authors, who identified it as the Law Court of David. He also recorded the dispute in Mamluk times over ownership of the Tomb of David on Mount Zion (2:98 and 347). Mujīr al-Dīn rarely mentioned any of the earlier figures from Joshua to Saul elsewhere. But he did mention concerning al-Ramlah (2:68) that, “in past times in the period of the Children of Israel, it was an extensive, magnificently constructed city, when Goliath, one of the giants of the Canaanites had his rule next to Palestine, as was presented when our lord David, upon him be peace, was mentioned.”

Commentary Mujīr al-Dīn wrote Al-Uns al-Jalīl for a Muslim readership, and so it is only to be expected that what he wrote about David is based on passages from the Qurʾān

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and Ḥadīth. Mujīr al-Dīn covered the Qurʾānic verses about Samuel and Saul (Ṭālūt) (Q.  2:246–248); Saul, David, and Goliath (Q. 2:249–251); David and the Psalms (Q. 4:163; 17:55); David and the hills and birds (Q. 21:79; 34:10 and 38:17–20); David and iron coats of mail (Q. 21:80 and 34:11); and David and Bathsheba (Q. 38:21– 26). But he did not cover the story of David and Solomon and the sheep in the field (Q. 21:78–79) or David cursing the Children of Israel (Q. 5:81). Mujīr al-Dīn also included stories about incidents that are not recorded in the Qurʾān, recording at length David’s construction of the temple and the plague with which God aff licted the Children of Israel. His treatment of Samuel and Saul, however, is brief in comparison with the coverage by other, more-expansive Muslim authors. Parallels to what Mujīr al-Dīn recorded can be found in a wide variety of Qurʾān commentaries, general histories, and collections of stories of the prophets (see, for example, Busse 1998; Tottoli 2002; Wheeler 2002) A careful examination of parallels between Mujīr al-Dīn’s version and the accounts of other Muslim authors is not the objective of this article, although it is noteworthy that Mujīr al-Dīn focused on David’s piety and devotion as a model ascetic and less on David as a historical figure; the 9th-century historians al-Yaʿqūbī (Ebied and Wickham 1970) and al-Ṭabarī (1991: 140–51), for example, provided fuller historical information than did Mujīr al-Dīn. Mujīr al-Dīn’s account has little in common with the accounts of David and Saul in Ibn ʿAsākir’s 12th-century Tārīkh Madīnat Dimashq (1995a–b), unlike the case with his account of the life of Jesus (see Schick 2005). Mujīr al-Dīn covered at length David’s sin and repentance over the Bathsheba incident, so he clearly did not regard David to be a sinless prophet, unlike some other Muslim authors who managed to explain away the Bathsheba incident and thus preserve the dogma of the sinlessness of all the prophets. Mujīr al-Dīn derived his information about David from Muslim storytellers and reporters of Ḥadīth, who picked up information from Jewish legends (Hasson 2001). He mentioned by name Qatādah ibn Diʿama; ʿAbd Allāh Ibn ʿAbbās; Kaʿb al-Ahbar; Wahb ibn Munabbih; Mujāhid ibn Jabr; al-Awzāʿī; al-Ḥasan al-Basrī; and Rāfiʿ ibn ʿUmayrah, all well-known Muslims from the first couple centuries hijrī (see the relevant biographical entries in the Encyclopedia of Islam). Mujīr al-Dīn did not, however, make direct use of the Old Testament. To cite just one detail in which Mujīr al-Dīn’s account varies from the Old Testament, Joshua has the sun stand still at the time of the capture of Jericho, rather than in connection with the Amorites at Gibeon ( Josh 10:12–14). Mujīr al-Dīn was aware of the Old Testament and its different versions. In Al-Uns al-Jalīl (1:155–56), he recorded the story of the production of the Septuagint version and stated, “The version of the Torah going back to Ptolemy is the most correct and reliable version. It is the Greek Torah with which historians work. The Hebrew Torah that is in the hands of the Jews and the Samaritan Torah are both corrupted and are not used and God knows best.” He also referred elsewhere (1:175) to “the Greek Torah

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upon which historians rely.” But nothing indicates that he relied directly on the Greek Torah for his account of David or anything else in Al-Uns al-Jalīl. Mujīr al-Dīn had a major interest in Al-Uns al-Jalīl of documenting Islamic sites and monuments in Jerusalem, and so he included more information about specific sites connected with David than other premodern authors did. Mujīr al-Dīn, however, said nothing about David in his extensive coverage of the city of Hebron.

Bibliography Ansārī, F. al1986 Muʾarrikh al-Quds wa-al-Khalīl Mujīr al-Dīn Abū al-Yumn ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-ʿUmarī alʿUlaymī al-Ḥanbalī. Ḥayātuhu wa-Mawḍaʿ Qabruhu. Publication no. 6/3. Jerusalem: Qism Iḥyāʾ al-Turāth al-Islāmī. ʿAsalī, K. al1985 Mujīr al-Dīn al-ʿUlaymī al-Ḥanbalī: Muʾarrikh al-Quds—Naṣṣ Jadīd ʿan Ḥayātihi wa-Naṣṣ Dhayl Kitābihi al-Uns al-Jalīl. Dirāsāt (University of Jordan) 12/8: 115–35. Busse, H. 1993 Mudjīr al-Dīn al-ʿUlaymī. Pp. 294–95 in vol. 7 of Encyclopedia of Islam, ed. C. E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel, W. P. Heinrichs, and C. Pellat. 12 vols. 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill. 1998 Islam, Judaism, and Christianity: Theological and Historical Affiliations. Princeton, NJ: Wiener. Ebied, R., and Wickham, L. 1970 Al-Yaʿkūbī’s Account of the Israelite Prophets and Kings. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 29: 80–98. Firestone, R. 2000 Ṭālūt. Pp. 168–69 in vol. 10 of Encyclopedia of Islam, ed. P. J. Bearman, T. Bianquis, C. E. Bos­ worth, E. van Donzel and W. P. Heinrichs. 12 vols. 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill. Hasson, I. 2001 David. Pp. 495–97 in vol. 1 of Encyclopedia of the Qurʾān, ed. J. D. McAuliffe. 6 vols. Leiden: Brill. Ḥusaynī, I. M. al-, and Silwādī, Ḥ. al1988 Fahāris Kitāb al-Uns al-Jalīl bi-Tarīkh al-Quds wa-al-Khalīl li-Mujīr al-Dīn al-Ḥanbalī. Jerusalem: Dār al-Ṭif l al-ʿArabī. Ibn ʿAsākir 1995a Dāūd. Pp. 80–109 in vol. 17 of Tārīkh Madīnat Dimashq, ed. ʿUmar ibn Gharāmah al-ʿAmrawī. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr. 1995b Ṭālūt. Pp. 436–46 in vol. 24 of Tārīkh Madīnat Dimashq, ed. ʿUmar ibn Gharāmah al-ʿAmrawī. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr. Kennedy, P. 2004 Samuel. Pp. 526–30 in vol. 4 of Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān, ed. J. D. McAuliffe. 6 vols. Leiden: Brill. Mujīr al-Dīn al-ʿUlaymī 1973 Al-Uns al-Jalīl bi Tarīkh al-Quds wa-al-Khalīl. Amman: Maktabat al-Muḥtasib. 1999 Al-Uns al-Jalīl bi Tarīkh al-Quds wa-al-Khalīl. Amman: Maktabat Dandis. Paret, R. 1965 Dāwūd. P. 182 in vol. 2 of Encyclopaedia of Islam, ed. B. Lewis, C. Pellat, and J. Schacht. 12 vols. 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill. Schick, R. 2005 The Life of Jesus in Mujīr al-Dīn’s 15th-Century History of Jerusalem. Journal of the Henry Martyn Institute 24: 89–111.

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2012 The Umayyads and ʿAbbāsids in Mujīr al-Dīn’s Fifteenth-Century History of Jerusalem and Hebron. Pp.  209–32 in The Lineaments of Islam: Studies in Honor of Fred McGraw Donner, ed. P. Cobb. Leiden: Brill. Ṭabarī, al1991 The History of al-Tabarī, vol. 3: The Children of Israel, trans. W. Brinner. Albany: State University of New York. Takim, L. 2004 Saul. Pp. 536–37 in vol. 4 of Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān, ed. J. D. McAuliffe. 6 vols. Leiden: Brill. Tottoli, R. 2002 Biblical Prophets in the Qurʾān and Muslim Literature. Richmond: Surrey, Curzon. Wheeler, B. 2002 Prophets in the Quran. London: Continuum.

An Iron Age II Tomb at ʿAnata Hamdan Taha Deputy Minister of the Palestinian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities

ʿAnata is located roughly 4.5 km northeast of Jerusalem (fig. 1, map reference 174135). From its lofty elevation of ca. 700 m above sea level, the village boasts a commanding view of the surrounding landscape and the Jordan Valley to the east. At present, it is well situated among the modern Palestinian towns of Hizma, Mukhmas, Deir Dibwan, Nabi Musa, Khan el-Ahmar, Issawiya, and Shufat (ed-Dabagh 1991: 25–28). The main sites nearby are Kh. Kakul west of the village, Kh. Deir es-Sidd to the east, Kh. Almit to the northeast, and Ain el-Fawwar to the northeast (ed-Dabagh 1991: 85). Archeological surveys point to continuous occupation of the site from the Middle Bronze Age to present times. Cisterns, caves, building remains, shaft tombs, a wine press, and other Byzantine remains were all attested in the village (Department of Antiquities 1976: 158; ed-Dabagh 1991: 84–85). The most recent survey yielded meager evidence of occupation during the Iron Age I, but sufficient evidence was found for Iron Age II, Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, Medieval, and Ottoman occupation (Finkel­stein and Magen 1993: 359–60, English summary, p. 60). ʿAnata preserves the historical name of Anathoth, which in turn was derived from Anat, the Canaanite goddess of war (ed-Dabagh 1991: 83; see also Robinson 1970: 437; Kallai 1971: col. 318; Avi-Yonah 1976; Tzafrir 1994: 62; Negev and Gibson 2001: 33; Nadelman 1994: 62–74; Elitzur 2004: 159). Despite this name preservation, both A. Alt (1926: 23–24, after Nadelman 1994: 62) and W. F. Albright (1936: 25–26) identified the Iron Age site with nearby Ras el-Kharubeh (see also Höhne 1981: 7). However, since a survey conducted by A. Bergman (Biran) of the Mandatory Department of Antiquities did not turn up finds appropriate to the period here, he proposed that Anathoth should be identified with Issawiya (Bergman 1936: 22; see also Blair 1936). Not until the work of U. Dinur in the 1990s was Anathoth finally identified with ʿAnata for certain (Dinur and Feig 1993: 379, English summary p. 65); its surveys produced artifactual evidence from the Bronze Age, Iron Age I–II, Persian, Hellenistic, Early Roman, and Late Roman periods. With the discovery of an Iron Age II tomb within the boundaries of the old town of ʿAnata, we now have further confirmation of this identification. 281

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Fig. 1.  ʿAnata map, 1944.

Anathoth is mentioned several times in the Bible (Negev and Gibson 2001: 33). It is most famously associated with the prophet Jeremiah ( Jer 1:1), who witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 586 b.c.e. and alluded to the suffering of its inhabitants in his lamentations ( Jer 11:21–23; see also Nadelman 1994: 62; edDabagh 1991: 83). In classical times, the town was still known as Anathoth. Josephus located it 20 stadia (2.5 Roman miles) from Jerusalem (Robinson 1970: 437), while in the 4th century c.e. Eusebius located it 3 mi. from Jerusalem (Onomasticon 26, 27; Taylor 2003: 23, 110). Although St. Jerome (in Eusebius, Onom. 27) described Anathoth as a simple hamlet, Eusebius identified it a polis (Onom. 26). The local Byzantine church was mentioned by the pilgrim Theodosius, who traveled in Palestine around the year 530 c.e., and the Christians of Jerusalem used to celebrate the prophet Jeremiah’s feast on the 1st of May each year according to the Gregorian Calendar of the Church of Jerusalem (Bagatti 2002: 18). In the Survey of Western Palestine, Conder and Kitchner sketched and described remains of a colonnaded building with a row of pillar bases and a mosaic pavement. Its identification as a Byzantine church (Conder and Kitchener 1883: 82) was confirmed by A. Biran’s investigations in the 1980s (Biran 1985: 209–14; see also Bagatti 2002: 18). During Crusader times, the village was called Aneth (Rohricht 1887: 222, Ba­ gatti 2002: 19; ed-Dabagh 1991: 83). It was also mentioned in Ottoman tax-census

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records from the late 16th century (in 1005 a.h./1596–97 c.e.). ʿAnata was fiscally administered by Nahiya al-Quds, a district in the liwa Alquds. Taxation sheet no. 230 (Hutteroth and Abdulfatah 1977: 117) mentions 10 family heads of ʿAnata and the produce to be taxed. The taxation amounts mainly concerned wheat, barley, summer crops, olive oil, and fruit trees. Occasional revenues included goats, beehives, and water buffaloes. Since the documents do not mention a poll tax on Christians and Jews, it is generally assumed that the inhabitants of ʿAnata were primarily Muslims. During the late 19th century, the built-up area of the town was ca. 37 dunums (ed-Dabagh 1991: 83). E. Robinson (1970: 438) described the Ottoman town as a small, poor village with few houses, although it appears to have been fortified at one time. Robinson reported that portions of the city wall were built of large hewn stones, along with foundations of some ancient houses. The economy of the village was dependent on the cultivation of grain, as well as figs and olives (Robinson 1970: 438).

Salvage Excavation, 1996 During construction work on a house in the old city of ʿAnata, a bulldozer damaged the entrance to a burial cave. The entrance lay along the main road of the village leading to Jerusalem, 200 m east of the ʿAnata secondary school. The bulk of the cave lay directly below the present road. After the authorities were duly notified, the Palestinian Department of Antiquities carried out a week-long salvage excavation in October 1996. The project was directed by me, assisted by J. Yasin, A. Shawamra, N. Barakat, Y. Abu Taʾa, and I. Iqtait as a draftsman. The cave was severely damaged by the bulldozer. Moreover, part of the tomb had been disturbed by looters, presumably after the tomb’s discovery, who left the tomb full of debris.

Description of the Tomb The multiple-chamber tomb found hewn into the limestone rock consisted of two chambers (figs. 2–3): a rectangular main hall (Chamber I) and squarish side chamber (Chamber II) on the east. There may have been additional chambers on the east. This type of Iron Age tomb was standard during the 7th and 6th centuries b.c.e. (Loffreda 1968; Eshel 1987: 14). Doorway A double, slightly rectangular doorway from the south led into Chamber I. Chamber I Chamber I was rectangular in shape (11 × 8 m). It was approached by a double doorway that opened to the south. The eastern doorway was 60 cm wide by 70 cm high; the western doorway was smaller and measured approximately 40 cm wide by

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Figs. 2–3.  Plan of ʿAnata tomb (above). Section of ʿAnata tomb (below). Drawings by I. Iqtait.

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50 cm high. The chamber had two small rooms on each side of the doorway. Three piers of highly eroded bedrock are still visible at the entrance. The f loor of the cave was found full of collapsed rock, which made work very risky. In the eastern part of the chamber is a large block of masonry that may have been used to block the entrance to the tomb in an earlier stage of its use. In the southeast corner of this chamber was a small door measuring 40 cm2 leading to Chamber II on the east. Chamber II Subsidiary Chamber II to the east of Chamber I had a squarish plan (6.5 × 4.2 m). It was smaller in size than Chamber I. It had two blocked entrances, one in the southwest corner and a second in the southeast corner of the cave, apparently leading to another chamber. Because of the large heap of disturbed dump, excavation was concentrated in the central part of the tomb. A secondary burial was uncovered in this area. Indeed, most of the archaeological and human remains were from this chamber. Since the tomb offerings were found in proximity to the skeletal remains, we concluded that the pottery vessels and other grave goods belonged to the burials uncovered in the central part of the tomb. Finds Most of the ceramics and human remains were found in Chamber II, with only a small collection of pottery sherds in Chamber I. Excavation was concentrated in the central part of Chamber II. A considerable number of vessels and metal objects were found. These included lamps, bowls, decanters, alabastara, juglets; and fragments of metal objects that had been weapons or personal adornments. The east chamber was less damaged, contained a varied assemblage of pottery and metal objects from the late Iron Age II, and was surrounded by human remains. Pottery Finds The pottery repertoire consisted of bowls, lamps, decanters, juglets, a pyxis, and jars. Bowls A total of six small, medium, and large-sized bowls were found. Among them were two variations: one with a simple, shallow body and another with gentle carination occurring at the midpoint of the body (for close parallels, see Yezerski 1997: 22): Small, carinated bowl ( JR113) measuring 14 cm in diameter with a rounded rim, f lat base, and brown color (fig. 4). 1 Medium-sized bowl ( JR3) with a simple rim and f lat base (figs. 5, l8:1:3). Numerous bubbles on the surface of the vessel appear to be caused by firing. 1.  All photographs in this essay have been reproduced courtesy of the Palestinian Department of Antiquities.

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Fig. 4.  Small carinated bowl. Fig. 5.  Bowl containing quite a few bubbles.

Shallow bowl ( JR5) measuring 13 cm in diameter with a f lat base, brown color, and horizontal wheel burnish (fig. 18:1:5). Incomplete bowl ( JR127) measures 16 cm in diameter with a folded rim, Fig. 6.  Carinated bowl. f lat base, brown color, and lightbrown slip (fig. 18:1:2). Incomplete bowl ( JR125) measuring 19.5 cm in diameter with a f lat base and reddish color (fig. 18:1:1). Carinated bowl ( JR4) with plain everted rim (figs. 6, 18:1:4) and lightreddish color. Saucer Lamps The oil lamps consisted of two complete specimens and three incomplete (for close parallels, see Yezerski 1997: 28): Saucer lamp ( JR1) with a semi-rounded form (figs. 7, 18:2) and everted rim, f lattened base, pale-brown color, and trace of burning on the nozzle. Saucer lamp ( JR2) with a f lat everted rim, rounded base, pale-brown color, traces of burning on the nozzle (fig. 18:3), and mat impressions at the bottom of the lamp (fig. 8). Incomplete saucer lamp ( JR120) with a rounded base, pale-brown color, and traces of burning on the nozzle (fig. 18:4). Incomplete saucer lamp ( JR119) with f lat everted rim and nozzle pushed inside, f lat (?) base, and reddish color (fig. 18:5). Incomplete saucer lamp ( JR123) with f lat everted rim (fig. 18:6), f lat base, and reddish color.

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Fig. 7.  Saucer lamp, semicircular in form.

Fig. 8 (below).  Saucer lamp with mat impressions.

Two lamp fragments, including part of a nozzle, evident traces of burning. Decanters A considerable number of decanters were found in the tomb, including two complete and two incomplete vessels (for close parallels, see Yezerski 1997: 26, 32). Decanter ( JR6) with funnel-shaped mouth, narrow neck, one loop handle from shoulder to neck (figs. 9, 18:7), rounded base, reddish color on the middle of the neck, and ribs on the body. Decanter ( JR7) with funnel-shaped mouth, rounded rim, narrow neck (figs. 10, 18:8), loop handle from shoulder to midpoint on the neck, a small rounded base, and reddish color. Upper part of a decanter ( JR118) with a funnel-shaped mouth (fig. 18:9), folded rim, short narrow neck, one loop handle from shoulder to midpoint on the neck, and reddish color. Lower part of a decanter ( JR115) with ring base and pale brown color (fig. 18:10).

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Fig. 9.  Funnel-shaped-mouth decanter. Fig. 10.  Rounded-base decanter.

Fig. 11.  Upper part of a juglet.

Fig. 12.  Funnel-shaped-mouth pyxis.

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Fig. 13.  Rounded-rim, shallow-neck jar fragment.

Fig. 14.  Upper part of alabastaron.

Fig. 15.  Metal objects from ʿAnata.

Juglet The upper part of a juglet ( JR121) with a funnel-shaped mouth, a loop handle stretching from shoulder to rim (figs. 11, 18:11), a short neck, and light-brown color. Pyxis Pyxis 7.5 cm in height with a funnel-shaped mouth, 2.2 cm in diameter ( JR8), a narrow neck with simple thickened rim, and a loop handle from shoulder to rim (figs. 12, 18:12). Rounded base, pale-brown color. Reddish-brown color, surface full of white grits.

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1

2

3

4

5

0

1

5 cm.

Fig. 16.  Drawing of metal objects. Drawings by I. Iqtait. Reproduced courtesy of the Palestinian Department of Antiquities.

Jars Fragment of a hole-mouth jar ( JR114) from the upper part of the vessel. Horizontal loop handle on the shoulder (fig. 18:13), and reddish color. Fragment ( JR117) has a rounded rim (figs. 13, 18:14), shallow neck, reddish color, and incised decoration on the shoulder of the pot. Alabastaron Upper part of the vessel ( JR124) with inverted rim, an incision at the base of the neck (figs. 14, 18:15), and knob handle on the shoulder. Metal Objects Metal objects (fig. 15) consisted of two complete rings (fig. 16:2), three bronze ring fragments, part of a small bronze bracelet (fig. 16:3), one 10.5-cm-long bronze needle (fig. 16:4), and a complete iron arrowhead, 7 cm long (fig. 16:5). Fragments of a bronze bowl that included the rim and body pieces (fig. 17). It also bore a decoration in relief (fig. 16:1). Skeletal Remains A sample of human skeletons was uncovered from Chamber II. The bones were found disarticulated, but in a relatively good state of preservation (ez-Zawahira 2001). Four skulls and a few limb and torso bone fragments were also retrieved. All of the

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Fig. 17.  Fragments of a bronze bowl. Reproduced courtesy of the Palestinian Department of Antiquities.

bones belonged to humans except for one animal-bone fragment found with the human bones. On the basis of the dimorphism of their skulls, three females were identified, while the fourth skull belonged to a male. The male skull has a thicker cranium and a tough surface. The teeth had a thick calcareous layer that covered most of their surfaces, especially the necks and crowns, implying the individual’s life-long dependency on plant food. His age at death was estimated at 25–35 years based on the skull sutures. Of the three female skulls, two were estimated to be from adults ranging in age from 15 to 21 and from 25 to 35 years old. One of the female skulls had pathological boney marks on the left maxilla, which pointed toward an infectious disease during her lifetime. One animal bone (the distal part of the proximal phalanx) was found among the human bones. The presence of this fragment, which belonged to a domestic sheep Ovis aries, indicates contamination during the excavation process or ancient ritual practices.

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Fig. 18.  Objects from ʿAnata Tomb.

Conclusion The burial cave at ʿAnata is an important source of information about the cultural history of the village identified with ancient Anathoth. The tomb had been robbed before salvage operations began at the site. The tomb can be ascribed to the ancient settlement, which had been located within the boundaries of the old town of ʿAnata. The burial cave contained the remnants of several individuals, including adult males

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and females, and the disarticulated bones of individuals of undetermined age and sex. The relatively large number of burials and grave goods suggests that the cave was used over a long period of time. The high concentration of grave goods may also indicate the special high status of those interred in the tomb. The grave goods include pottery lamps, bowls, decanters, juglets, and metal objects. It was probably a family burial that had been used for a relatively long period of time. The finds date to the late Iron Age II (early 6th century to the end of the late 5th century b.c.e.). This accidental discovery also attests to the significance of ʿAnata in the late Iron Age II and Persian period.

Bibliography Abel, F.-M. 1933–38  Géographie de la Palestine. 2 vols. Paris: Lecoffre. Albright, W. F. 1936 Additional Note. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 62: 25–26. Alt, A. 1926 Das Institut im Jahre 1925. Palästina-Jahrbuch 22: 5–80. Avi-Yonah, M. 1962 Historical Geography of Palestine from the End of the Babylonian Exile up to the Arabic Conquest. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute. [Hebrew] 1976 Gazetteer of Roman Palestine. Qedem 5. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Bagatti, B. 2002 Ancient Christian Villages of Samaria, trans P. Rotond. Studium Biblicum Franciscanum 39. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. Bergman [Biran], A. 1936 Soundings at the Supposed Site of Old Testament Anathoth. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 62: 22–25. Bergman [Biran], A., and Albright, W. F. 1936 Anathoth? Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 63: 22–23. Biran [Bergman], A. 1985 On the Identification of Anathoth. Eretz-Israel 18 (Avigad Volume): 209–14. [Hebrew] Blair, E. P. 1936 Soundings at ʿAnâtā (Roman Anathoth). Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 62: 18–21. Conder, C. R., and Kitchener, H. H. 1883 The Survey of Western Palestine: Memoirs of Topography, Orography, Hydrography and Archaeology. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Dabagh, M. M. ed1991 Pp. 82–85 in vol. 8/2 of Biladuna Filistin. Beirut: Dar al-Tali’ah. [Arabic] Dinur, U., and Feig, N. 1993 The Survey in the Eastern Part of the Jerusalem Map (Sheets 13–17). P. 379 (English Summary, p. 65) in Archeological Survey of the Hill Country of Benjamin, ed. I. Finkelstein and Y. Magen. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. [Hebrew] Department of Antiquities 1976 Department of Antiquities Geographical List of the Records Files, 1918–1948 Jerusalem: Department of Antiquities and Museums.

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Elitzur, Y. 2004 Ancient Place Names in the Holy Land: Preservation and History. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns / Jerusalem: Magnes. Eshel, H. 1987 The Late Iron Age Cemetery of Gibeon. Israel Exploration Journal 37: 1–17. Finkelstein I., and Magen, I., eds. 1993 Archeological Survey of the Hill Country of Benjamin. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Höhne, E., ed. 1981 Palästina: Historisch-archäologische Karte, Einfuerung und Register. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Hutteroth, W. D., and Abdulfattah, K. 1977 Historical Geography of Palestine, Transjordan and Southern Syria in the Late 16th Century. Erlangen: Palm & Enke. Kallai, Z. 1971 ʿAnathoth. Col. 318 in vol. 6 in Encyclopedia Biblica. 8 vols. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute. [Hebrew] Klostermann, E., ed. 1904 Eusebius: Onomasticon der biblischen Ortsnamen. Leipzig: Hinrich. Loffreda, S. 1968 Typological Sequence of the Iron Age Rock-Cut Tombs in Palestine. Liber Annuus 18: 244–87. Nadelman, Y. 1994 The Identification of Anathoth and the Soundings at Khirbet Deir es-Sidd. Israel Exploration Journal 44: 62–74. Negev, A., and Gibson, S., eds. 2001 Anathoth. P. 33 in Archaeological Encyclopedia of the Holy Land. Rev. ed. New York: Continuum. Robinson, E. 1841–1970  Biblical Researches in Palestine, vol. 1. Jerusalem. Rohricht, R. 1877 Studien zur mittelalterlichen Geographie und Topographie Syriens. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 10: 195–344. Taylor, J., ed. 2003 Palestine in the Fourth Century ad: The Onomasticon by Eusebius of Caesarea. Jerusalem: Carta. Tsafrir, Y.; Di Segni, L.; and Green, J. 1994 Anathoth. P. 62 in Tabula Imperii Romani, Iudaea, Palaestina, Eretz Israel in the Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine Periods: Maps and Gazetteer. Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences. Yezerski, I. 1997 Burial Caves in the Hebron Hills. ʿAtiqot 32: 21–36. [Hebrew; English Summary, p. 38] Zawahira, M. ez2001 The Human Bone Sample from Anata Tomb. The Palestinian Department of Antiquities. Unpublished Report.

The Ups and Downs of Settlement Patterns: Why Sites Fluctuate Joe Uziel

Itzhaq Shai

Deborah Cassuto

Israel Antiquities Authority

Bar-Ilan University

Bar-Ilan University

Introduction Whereas site-size f luctuation from period to period in regional contexts has been observed in tell-based archaeology, a less recognized phenomenon is the f luctuation of site size in contemporaneous neighboring settlements. It is clear that the size of a site may change from one period to the next for any number of reasons. For example, societal changes from a pastoral to a more urban way of life from the Early Bronze Age I to the Early Bronze Age II would have caused certain sites to grow, while the collapse of urban centers at the end of the Middle Bronze Age would have caused other sites to shrink. Although these variations in size have been linked to the greater social events of each era, the incidence of the related f luctuations of adjacent contemporaneous sites, which we will dub “seesawing,” requires a more comprehensive investigation. The “seesawing” phenomenon of neighboring settlements’ growing and shrinking relative to one another has been observed by Bunimovitz and Lederman (2006), who explain the expansion of Beth Shemesh in the early Iron Age II as relative to the diminution of Tel Miqne–Ekron at the time. Likewise, Maeir and Uziel (2007) recognize that the same phenomenon had occurred with the neighboring Philistine sites of Tell es-Safi/Gath and Tel Miqne–Ekron—in other words, as one settlement grew, the other one shrank. These studies focus on the relationships between pairs of sites; nevertheless, it seems that this trend was, in fact, more extensive—affecting an entire region during the course of the Bronze and Iron Ages. In this essay, we examine this up-and-down phenomenon within its regional context in order to understand better the foundations for site-size f luctuations in contemporary neighboring sites.

Method To investigate site-size f luctuation, we chose the inner region of the southern coastal plain and western Shephelah (fig. 1). The borders of the study are defined as follows: to the north, the Ayalon Valley; to the west, the meeting point between 295

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Fig. 1.  Map of the southern coastal plain and western Shephelah, with major sites marked. Drawing by J. Rosenberg.

the coastal plain and the foothills; to the east, the Judean Hills; and to the south, the Shiqma Valley. While the phenomenon most likely occurs in other regions as well, this specific area was chosen due to the large number of excavated sites. The sites were ranked according to size (table 1): large (first-order) cities were labeled “A,” smaller (second-order) cities/large towns “B,” smaller (third-order) towns

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Table 1.  Site-Size Rank Order by Period: Large cities “A,” smaller cities/ large towns “B,” smaller towns “C,”a small villages “D,” and unsettled “E” Site Gezer

References Dever 1993

Tel Miqne–Ekron Dothan and Gitin 1993; 2008 Beth Shemesh

Bunimovitz and Lederman 2006

Yarmuth

de Miroschedji 1993; 2008

Tell es-Safi/Gath

Uziel and Maeir 2005

Tel Batash

Mazar and Kelm 1993; Mazar 2006

Tel Nagila

Uziel 2008; Shai, Ilan, Maeir and Uziel 2011

Tel Hesi

Fargo 1993

Tel Beit Mirsim

Albright 1993; Greenberg 1993

Tel Goded

Gibson 1994

Azeka

Stern 1993

Tel Erani

Yeivin and Kempinski 1993

Tel Zayit

Tappy 2000; 2008

Lachish

Ussishkin 2004

Tel ʿEton

Ussishkin 1974; Zimhoni 1985

Tel Burna

Uziel and Shai 2010

EB II EB III MB II LB IA I IA IIA IA IIB IA IIC

C E E A C E D

E E E A A E D

A B C E C C B

B D C D B C E

C A C D A C E

B C B D A C D

B C B E B C E

C A E E E C D

D E E E E E C D —

B D D E B E C D D

E C E E E E B D C

D C E E E C B D C

D D E E E C Eb D D

C D D E E C B C B

C C C C C C A C B

C E E C D E B E D

a.  It should be noted that, during the Middle Bronze Age, many towns—labeled C—were in fact fortified. b.  Although Lachish continues to be settled in the 12th century b.c.e., this seems to be the continuation of the Late Bronze Age city and is considered abandoned in this essay, as it is for most of the Iron Age I.

“C,” 1 and small (fourth-order) villages “D.” 2 Unoccupied sites were marked “E.” The data were collected from site reports, preliminary analyses of excavations, and site-specific survey data published by the excavators/surveyors of the various sites. The results presented here are limited in that they do not include sites that may be relevant but have little or no available data. For example, Maresha was in all likelihood an important Iron Age site; however, the limited exposure of the periods under discussion does not permit an accurate assessment of its size or importance.

Early Bronze Age II The Early Bronze Age II (fig. 2) represents the first urban period in the region (Mazar 1990: 93–94; contra Falconer 1995) and the beginning of organized city planning. Yarmuth was the dominant site during this period, sporting massive fortifications and well-planned public buildings; clearly it was the major political entity in the region 1.  It should be noted that, during the Middle Bronze Age, many towns—labeled C—were in fact fortified. 2.  While numeric data are available for some of the sites, they are not always available, and many times they are very rough estimates. Therefore, we felt that for the purposes of this study it was better to apply a less rigid set of parameters.

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Fig. 2.  Sites in the Shephelah according to rank, in the EB II (top left), EB III (top right), MB (lower left), and LB (lower right). Drawings by J. Rosenberg.

(de Miroschedji 2006). Smaller, contemporaneous cities include Gezer to the north and Lachish to the south, with small towns at Tel Nagila and Tel Hesi. Settlement hierarchy seems to have been well planned, with the major settlements in the center of the region and two smaller sites to the north and south. Survey results at Tell es-Safi/ Gath (Uziel and Maeir 2005) are ambiguous for this period, because it was difficult to distinguish between Early Bronze Age II and Early Bronze Age III. Excavation there

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has only just begun to reveal finds from this period that, hopefully, will give a better indication of the city’s size. If Tell es-Safi/Gath had, indeed, expanded to a significantly larger city at this time, it seems that it would have been of secondary importance relative to Yarmuth and would have had a role similar to Lachish and Gezer.

Early Bronze Age III The Early Bronze Age III (fig. 2) in the Shephelah seems to have experienced a “boom” in urbanization with changes occurring in the local settlement pattern. While Yarmuth remained a significant focal center in the region, Tell es-Safi/Gath expanded, becoming a large center in itself. Additionally, two more fortified cities appeared on the western frontier: Tel Erani and Tel Hesi. Lachish remained a smaller town, and four smaller sites were established: Tel Goded, Tell Beit-Mirsim, Tel Nagila, and Tel Burna. Striking is the disappearance of Gezer from the demographic map. It seems that the settlement pattern had shifted south-southwest, leaving the northern portion of the region uninhabited. The pattern of pairs of cities seems to be significant, with the two largest sites, Yarmuth and Tell es-Safi/Gath, in proximity; and with two other fortified cities, Tel Erani and Tell Hesi, also adjacent to one another. The establishment of two fortified cities in the southwestern part of the coastal plain may relate to the rise of Ashkelon or may have been the result of renewed Egyptian military activity in the region (de Miroschedji 2002: 47), although it seems that there is little evidence for this latter theory.

The Middle Bronze Age After the urban hiatus of the Intermediate Bronze Age, southern Levantine urban society escalated again with the establishment of major Middle Bronze Age (fig. 2) cities at Gezer, Tel Miqne, Lachish, and Tel Nagila. By contrast, Tell Beit Mirsim, Tell es-Safi/Gath, Beth Shemesh, Tel Burna, and Tel Batash are smaller cities. There is a major difference in the dispersal of central sites from the Early Bronze Age. With the introduction of these new urban centers, we find an absence of the revival of the Early Bronze Age centers, such as Yarmuth, Tel Hesi, and Tel Erani. Noteworthy is the fortification of all of the smaller towns (Rank C) during this period—that is, Tel Batash, Tel Beit Mirsim, Tell es-Safi/Gath, and Beth Shemesh. The strategic positioning of settlement centers along the paths of rivers and major roads is a result of the expansion of maritime trade that took place during the Middle Bronze Age (Marcus 1998). The synoptic settlement pattern of the Shephelah sites shown here would have greatly facilitated the transportation of agricultural commodities toward the coastal commercial centers for shipment. Although several scholars have suggested that organization of this sort would be indicative of the entire region’s being under the control of a single polity (e.g., McGovern 2000:74; Burke 2004: 214–28; 2008), this was probably not the case (see Uziel 2008).

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The Late Bronze Age The destruction of Middle Bronze Age sites was followed by a severe settlement crisis, as is evident in the lack of major sites in the Late Bronze Age (fig. 2) southern Levant. For example, Tel Miqne became a small town in the Late Bronze Age, as did Tel Nagila, which was only sparsely occupied in the early part of the Late Bronze Age. However, some continuity can be noted in the importance of sites between the Middle Bronze Age and Late Bronze Age, which other than the seesaw movement between Tel Miqne and Tell es-Safi/Gath (Maeir and Uziel 2007), seem to have remained in the same realm of importance. There are three second-order sites in the region: Lachish, Tell es-Safi/Gath, and Gezer (see also Jasmin 2006: 171, fig. 6). As in the Middle Bronze Age, these sites are well dispersed from north to south in almost equidistant fashion. Again, it appears that these sites served as inland centers related to the transport of commodities toward the coast, where they were then shipped by sea from the coastal centers. It is interesting to note that all three of these sites also played a major role in the Amarna period, as attested in the letters sent by their rulers to the Egyptian monarchy (Pritchard 1955). 3 Several sites are small cities or towns: Tel Batash, Tel Burna, Beth Shemesh, Tel Zayit, and Tel Beit Mirsim. Tel Miqne, Yarmuth, Tel Hesi, and Tel ʿEton are small villages in this period.

The Iron Age I Philistine settlement of the southern Levant clearly had a substantial impact on the settlement pattern of the region (fig. 3). The Philistines are known to have settled in five major urban sites (e.g., Stager 1995), two of which (Tel Miqne and Tell es-Safi/ Gath) fall in the study region. Surprisingly, despite their proximity, these two cities are the only first-order sites in the region at the time. Furthermore, no other sites fall in the rank of second-order sites, whereas third-order sites do appear and include Tel Zayit, Beth Shemesh, Tel Batash, and Gezer. The northeastern third-order sites (Beth Shemesh, Tel Batash, and Gezer), which were closest to the Philistine cities, were probably kept in check by (and were possibly even controlled by) the Philistine polities (Mazar 2006: 328). Tel Hesi, Tel ʿEton, Tell Beit Mirsim, Tel Burna, and Tel Yarmuth are all sparsely settled at this time. It seems that the dominance of the Philistine presence at Tel Miqne and Tell es-Safi/Gath affected other sites in the area (such as Lachish and Gezer), causing them to shrink significantly.

3.  For identifying Shuwardata as the ruler of Gath, see, for example, Goren, Finkelstein, and Naʾaman 2004: 280–86; Rainey and Notley 2006: 85. In addition, see EA 280 and EA 290 for the role of Gezer and Shuwardata’s city in a conf lict with Jerusalem; for the role of Lachish and Gezer, see EA 287.

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Fig. 3.  Sites in the Shephelah according to rank, in the Iron Age I (top left), Iron Age IIA (top right), Iron Age IIB (lower left), and Iron Age IIC (lower right). Drawings by J. Rosenberg.

The Iron Age IIA There is a major shift in the settlement pattern from the Iron Age I to the Iron Age IIA (fig. 3), because Tell es-Safi/Gath dominated the Philistine realm while Tel Miqne became substantially smaller (Maeir and Uziel 2007). Although Lachish was smaller in

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size than Tell es-Safi/Gath, this may ref lect a difference in urban concept between the Philistine and Canaanite traditions and not the site’s rank within the hierarchy (e.g., Ussishkin 2004: 78–79, 82). Philistine inf luence in the northeastern corridor disappears, and sites such as Beth Shemesh, Tel Burna, and Gezer become second-order towns. The growth of the cities bordering Philistia (e.g., Beth Shemesh, Tel Burna, and Lachish) could be the result of augmented support by the central governing force in Judah (Bunimovitz and Lederman 2006). Third-order sites include Tel Batash, Tel Zayit, Tel Hesi, and Tel ʿEton, as well as Tel Miqne. Villages include Yarmuth, Tel Goded, Tel Nagila, and Tel Beit Mirsim. The existence of three hierarchical levels of settlements is unlike the preceding period of the Iron Age I and resembles more the situation in other periods, such as the Middle Bronze Age, above. Furthermore, the presence of two first-order sites (Tell es-Safi/Gath and Lachish) on opposite sides of an existing border most likely ref lects political control. Their proximity may have been an attempt at curtailing competitive political control of the region (see Bunimovitz and Lederman 2004; and further discussion below).

The Iron Age IIB The Iron Age IIB (fig. 3) witnessed the rise of many settlements, all of second and third order, in addition to the first-order settlement at Lachish. 4 These include second-order sites such as Gezer, Beth Shemesh, Tell es-Safi/Gath, and Tel Burna, as well as the third-order sites of Tel Miqne, Tel Batash, Azekah, Tel Goded, Tel Zayit, Tel Erani, Tel Hesi, Tel ʿEton, and Tel Beit Mirsim. 5 The Philistine settlement is pushed back toward the coast as can be seen in the Judean settlement of Tell es-Safi/ Gath (Maeir 2004; Zukerman and Shai 2008). This is in accordance with prevailing opinions regarding the strengthening of the Judean Monarchy at this time.

The Iron Age IIC The Iron Age IIC (fig. 3) settlement pattern is characterized by an abandonment of numerous sites (e.g., Tell es-Safi/Gath, Beth Shemesh, and Tel Zayit), and the relative absence of many second-order sites. Tel Miqne becomes the heart of the region, by far the most important settlement in this period. This is a direct result of Sennacherib’s military campaign and Assyrian intervention in the region. Lachish is of second order. Third-order settlements include Gezer (albeit an Assyrian stronghold), Tel Batash, Azekah, and Tel Hesi. In this period, the Judean centers are located farther inland.

4.  Lachish is clearly of greater importance than the other sites (Ussishkin 2004: 83–90), despite the fact that it may not be larger. 5.  It is interesting to note that the f lourishing of settlements in this period corresponds well with Dagan’s survey of the region (1992) and the historic records corresponding to the period.

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The Pendulum of the Settlement Pattern When one compares the settlement pattern throughout the Bronze and Iron Ages, a few points come to mind. First of all, there is not always a direct correlation between the importance of a site and its distance from other major sites (for a similar conclusion regarding Hazor in the Middle Bronze Age, see Maeir 2000). For instance, the two highest ranking sites of the Early Bronze Age III (Yarmuth and Tell es-Safi/Gath) are in proximity to each other, as are the two Iron Age I sites (Tel Miqne and Tell es-Safi/ Gath). 6 This points to the problem of applying rigid settlement pattern models, such as the Thiessen Polygons (see, for example, Jasmin [2006], who deals with the Shephelah in the Late Bronze Age), which require a more balanced distribution of sites without considering other factors. For example, the position of Iron Age I Tell es-Safi/Gath and Tel Miqne–Ekron so near each other seems to have been a direct result of the Philistine settlement paradigm—based on urban settlements (e.g., Shavit 2008: 160), regardless of their proximity (Maeir and Uziel 2007: 37). Furthermore, problems concerning the carrying capacity of a certain region may be overstressed, because these cities may have been close together, yet the lands under their control could easily extend in different directions. This may have been true of Early Bronze Age III Yarmuth and Tell es-Safi/Gath as well (contrary to de Miroschedji’s [2006] reconstruction, which preceded recent discoveries at Tell es-Safi/Gath). It can also be suggested that both cities were intentionally strengthened as a result of their position on the eastern border of the coastal plain entity of Philistia and as a counteraction to the group(s) settled in the central highland. This is contrary to Jasmin’s (2006: 175–76) observation concerning border sites during the Late Bronze Age, when sites such as Tel ʿEton and Tell Beit Mirsim were far from the city-state. Second is the interesting phenomenon of f luctuations, “seesawing,” between neighboring sites. This has already been reported for Tell es-Safi/Gath and Tel Miqne (Maeir and Uziel 2007), as well as for Tel Miqne and Beth Shemesh (Bunimovitz and Lederman 2006). However, this is also true of Tel Nagila and Tel Hesi in the Early and Middle Bronze Age, in addition to Gezer and Tel Miqne in the Late Bronze and Iron Ages. These shifting patterns seem to suggest that the growth of one settlement can have direct impact on neighboring sites, causing them to contract. At the same time, the shrinking of a given settlement opens the door for another settlement to fill the void. The reasons for this expansion or reduction may vary in different cases. Carrying capacities may explain some of these occurrences; however, some scholars have argued against the relevance of carrying capacities (e.g., Finkelstein 1995: 355), since the population of cities in the Bronze and Iron Ages could not have been more than several thousand, making it difficult to picture a lack of agricultural lands available for 6.  The latter example is noteworthy since both sites were populated by the same ethnic and political entity—namely, the Philistines.

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use. Others have argued, however, that carrying capacities can explain the decline not only of specific sites but of entire regions (e.g. Maeir 2010: 172–73). In order to consider the effects that carrying capacity may have had, one must rely on calculations of ancient populations and other estimates, such as the area of land necessary to sustain each person. However, these estimates involve many variables and may be quite erroneous (for population estimates, see Zorn 1994). That said, such calculations may suggest the possibility of carrying capacity as a factor. If, for example, Tel Miqne was 20 hectares in the Middle Bronze Age, there would have been 5,000 inhabitants living there (using the generally accepted coefficient of 250 persons per hectare). According to Adams’ (1981) figures for dry farming (3 hectares per person), this would require an area of 15,000 hectares, or 150 sq. km for agricultural use. This suggests that the growth—and in turn, the need for more agricultural land at Tell es-Safi/Gath—would have put a strain on the inhabitants of Tel Miqne. If this was the case, it may explain the competition over resources and the conf licts between neighboring polities. However, as mentioned above, there are many difficulties with these figures and the effects of carrying capacities in ancient times. No different are ideas connected to the overuse of land (e.g., Cuberes 2009), which led to the collapse of certain settlements and the need to move elsewhere in search of new resources and replenished lands. Once again, we are confronted with the challenge of the application of modern problems to ancient societies. While modern populations are much larger and need more agricultural yields, the methods used today allow for more crops in smaller areas. If these factors do come into play, then they should be considered alongside political factors as well—not only as a cause for conf licts but also as only one of many factors that contributed to the seesawing phenomenon. There is no doubt that carrying capacities do not explain all, if any, of the seesawing noted in this essay. It is likely that other factors, mainly political in nature, contributed as well. As stated above, rigid settlement models do not allow for a full understanding of seesawing between sites, but it does seem that the settlement hierarchy in each period dictated the location of the major centers of the region. When these centers are close together, then it is most likely that their spheres of control did not overlap. So, for instance, during the Early Bronze Age III, Tell es-Safi/Gath most likely controlled southwestern or northwestern regions, while Yarmuth looked to the east. In the Iron Age I, Tel Miqne most likely controlled areas to its west and north, while Tell es-Safi/Gath controlled areas to its south. This latter point may be strengthened by the biblical passages describing Achish’s control of Ziklag (located in the northern Negev; 1 Samuel 27). 7 Likewise, during the Iron Age, it is clear that the Judean-Philistine border affected the placement of centers, with large cities placed near each other. 7.  For a different dating of this passage, see, e.g., Finkelstein 2002: 136–37. For a similar situation, regarding the control area of Tell es-Safi/Gath in the south during the Late Bronze Age, see Finkelstein 1996. If this is the case, then it appears that Lachish’s control area would need to be to the east.

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Later, during the Iron Age II, when Judah had clearly established a central authority, urban and administrative centers appeared on opposite sides of the border—for example, Lachish on the Judean side and Tell es-Safi/Gath (10th–9th century b.c.e.)/Tel Miqne–Ekron (8th–7th centuries b.c.e.) in Philistia.

Conclusion The present report on the seesawing phenomenon of the f luctuation observed in site sizes within a region is only a preliminary investigation. What we have tried to do is introduce and expound on a phenomenon that is not unique to ancient settlement patterns but has hardly been discussed until now. In this essay, we show that there may be different explanations—political, social, economic, and agricultural—for each case of seesawing. However, there also seem to have been situations where the voids created by the weakening of one site were filled by neighboring settlements’ growth and intensification, and this intensification and growth of sites put strains on the existing settlements, causing them to downsize.

Bibliography Adams, R. M. 1981 Heartland of Cities. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Albright, W. F. 1993 Beit Mirsim, Tell. Pp. 177–80 in vol. 1 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Bunimovitz, S., and Lederman, Z. 2004 Jerusalem and Beth-Shemesh: A Capital and Its Border. Pp. 37–50 in New Studies in Jerusalem, vol. 10, ed. E. Baruch and A. Faust. Ramat-Gan: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies. [Hebrew] 2006 The Early Israelite Monarchy in the Sorek Valley: Tel Beth-Shemesh and Tel Batash (Timnah) in the 10th and 9th Centuries b.c.e. Pp. 407–27 in “I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times” Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday, vol. 2, ed. A. M. Maeir and P. de Miroschedji. 2 vols. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Burke, A. A. 2004 The Architecture of Defense: Fortified Settlements of the Levant during the Middle Bronze Age. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Chicago. 2008 “Walled Up to Heaven”: The Evolution of Middle Bronze Age Fortification Strategies in the Levant. Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Cuberes, D. 2004 A Model of Sequential City Growth. The Berkeley Electronic Journal of Macroeconomics 9/1. http:// www.bepress.com/bejm/vol9/iss1/art18. Dagan, Y. 1992 Archaeological Survey of Israel, Map of Lakhish (98). Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Dever, W.G. 1993 Gezer. Pp. 496–506 in vol. 2 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Dothan T., and Gitin S. 1993 Miqne, Tel (Ekron). Pp. 1051–59 in vol. 3 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

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2008 Miqne, Tel (Ekron). Pp. 1952–58 in sup. vol. of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Falconer, S. E. 1995 Heartlands and Hinterlands: Alternative Trajectories of Early Urbanization in Mesopotamia and the Southern Levant. American Antiquity 60/1: 37–58. Fargo, V. M. 1993 Hesi, Tell el-. Pp. 630–34 in vol. 2 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Finkelstein, I. 1995 The Great Transformation: The “Conquest” of the Highlands Frontiers and the Rise of Territorial States. Pp. 349–65 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. 1996 The Territorial-Political System of Canaan in the Late Bronze Age. Ugarit-Forschungen 28: 221–55. 2002 The Philistines in the Bible: A Late Monarchic Perspective. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 27: 131–67. Goren, Y.; Naʾaman, N.; and Finkelstein, I. 2004 Inscribed in Clay I: Provenance Study of the Amarna Letters and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts. Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph Series 22. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press. Greenberg, R. 1993 Beit Mirsim, Tell. Pp. 177–80 in vol. 1 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Jasmin, M. 2006 The Political Organization of the City-States in Southwestern Palestine in the Late Bronze Age IIB (13th Century b.c.e.). Pp. 161–91 in “I Will Speak the Riddle of Ancient Times”: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday, vol. 1, ed. A. M. Maeir and P. de Miroschedji. 2 vols. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Maeir, A. M. 2000 The Political and Economic Status of MB II Hazor and MB II Trade: An Inter- and Intra-Regional View. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 132: 37–58. 2004 The Historical Background and Dating of Amos VI 2: An Archaeological Perspective from Tell es-Safi/Gath. Vetus Testamentum 54: 319–34. 2010 In the Midst of the Jordan: The Jordan Valley during the Middle Bronze Age (circa 2000–1500 b.c.e.)— Archaeological and Historical Correlates. Contributions to the Chronology of the Eastern Mediterranean 26. Vienna: Osterreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Maeir, A. M., and Uziel, J. 2007 A Tale of Two Tells: A Comparative Perspective on Tel Miqne–Ekron and Tell es-Safi/Gath in Light of Recent Archaeological Research. Pp. 29–42 in “Up to the Gates of Ekron”: Essays on the Archaeology and History of the Eastern Mediterranean in Honor of Seymour Gitin, ed. S. W. Crawford et al. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Marcus, E. 1998 Maritime Trade in the Southern Levant from Earliest Times through the Middle Bronze IIA Period. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Oxford. Mazar, A. 1990 Archaeology of the Land of the Bible: 10,000–586 b.c.e. New York: Doubleday. 2006 Concluding Remarks. Pp. 323–30 in Timnah (Tel Batash) III: The Finds from the Second Millennium b.c.e., ed. N. Panitz-Cohen and A. Mazar. Qedem 45. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Mazar, A., and Kelm, G. L. 1993 Batash, Tel. Pp. 152–57 in vol. 1 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

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McGovern, P. E. 2000 The Foreign Relations of the “Hyksos”: A Neutron Activation Study of Middle Bronze Age Pottery from the Eastern Mediterranean. British Archaeological Reports International Series 888. Oxford: Archaeopress. Miroschedji, P. de 1993 Jarmuth, Tel. Pp. 661–65 in vol. 2 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2002 The Socio-Political Dynamics of Egyptian-Canaanite Interaction in the Early Bronze Age. Pp. 39–57 in Egypt and the Levant: Interrelations from the 4th through the Early 3rd Millennium b.c.e., ed. E. C. M. van den Brink and T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. 2006 At the Dawn of History: Sociopolitical Developments in Southwestern Canaan in Early Bronze Age III. Pp. 55–78 in “I Will Speak the Riddle of Ancient Times”: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday, vol. 1, ed. A. M. Maeir and P. de Miroschedji. 2 vols. Winona Lake, In: Eisenbrauns. 2008 Jarmuth, Tel. Pp. 1792–97 in sup. vol. of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Moran, W. L. 1992 The Amarna Letters. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Pritchard, J. B. 1955 Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rainey, A. F., and Notley, R. S. 2006 The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World. Jerusalem: Carta. Shai, I.; Ilan, D.; Maeir, A. M.; and Uziel, J. 2011 The Iron Age Remains at Tel Nagila. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 363: 25–43. Shavit, A. 2008 Settlement patterns of Philistine city-states. Pp. 135–64 in Bene Israel Studies in the Archaeology of Israel and the Levant during the Bronze and Iron Ages in Honor of Israel Finkelstein, ed. A. Fantalkin and A. Yasur-Landau. Leiden: Brill. Stager, L. E. 1995 The Impact of the Sea Peoples (1185–1050). Pp. 332–48 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. Stern, E. 1993 Azekah. Pp. 123–24 in vol. 1 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Tappy, R. 2000 The 1998 Survey of Khirbet Zeitah el-Kharab (Tel Zayit) in the Shephelah of Judah. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 319: 7–36. 2008 Zayit, Tel. Pp. 2082–83 in sup. vol. of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Ussishkin, D. 1974 Tombs from the Israelite Period at Tel ʿEton. Tel Aviv 1: 109–27. 2004 A Synopsis of the Stratigraphical, Chronological and Historical Issues. Pp. 50–119 in The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish, vol. 3, ed. D. Ussishkin. Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph Series 22. Tel Aviv: Emery and Claire Yass Publications in Archaeology. Uziel, J. 2008 The Southern Coastal Plain of Canaan during the Middle Bronze Age. Ph.D. dissertation. Bar-Ilan University. Uziel, J., and Maeir, A. M. 2005 Scratching the Surface at Gath: Implications of the Tell es-Safi/Gath Surface Survey. Tel Aviv 32: 50–75.

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Uziel, J., and Shai, I. 2010 The Tel Burna Surface Survey. Tel Aviv 37: 242–60. Yeivin, S., and Kempinski, A. 1993 ʿErani, Tel. Pp. 417–21 in vol. 2 of The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Zimhoni, O. 1985 The Iron Age Pottery of Tel ʿEton and Its Relation to the Lachish, Tell Beit Mirsim and Arad Assemblages. Tel Aviv 12: 63–90. Zorn, J. R. 1994 Estimating Population Size of Ancient Settlements: Methods, Problems, Solutions and a Case Study. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 295: 31–48. Zukerman, A., and Shai, I. 2008 “The Royal City of the Philistines” in the “Azekah Inscription” and the History of Gath in the Eighth Century b.c.e. Ugarit-Forschungen 38: 729–816.

The Horned Stands from Tell Afis and Hazor and the “Crowns” from Nahal Mishmar Alexander Zukerman Independent Researcher, Albright Institute

In this essay, I discuss the typological affinities and possible function of the recently published cylindrical stands with horn-shaped projections found in the Iron Age II Temple AI at Tell Afis (fig. 1:1–2; Soldi 2009: 108–12, figs. 9–10; 2010). The findspot of these objects suggests that they were originally placed on the roof of the temple, thus providing valuable archaeological evidence for a connection between the horns and the sacred space on rooftops. These stands throw light on similar objects found in Iron Age II Hazor (fig. 1:3) and, perchance, also on the “crowns” from the Chalcolithic hoard from Nahal Mishmar (fig. 4:1–3). Tell Afis, a large site in western Syria, is generally identified with ancient Hazrak, the capital of the Aramean Kingdom of Luʿash during the 9th–8th centuries b.c.e., and later, a seat of the Assyrian governor during the 7th century b.c.e. (Lipiński 2000: 249–318). Excavated since 1962 by several Italian expeditions, the site has yielded rich Bronze and Iron Age finds (Ceccini and Mazzoni 1998; for additional bibliographical references, see Soldi 2009). The monumental temple on the western acropolis of the tell is the most remarkable Iron Age architectural find from Tell Afis (fig. 2; Soldi 2009: figs. 6–7). It has a symmetrical in antis plan, and its entrance is f lanked by towers. Its location and size indicate that this was one of the main temples of the city. The ceramic objects in question were found around this temple and date to the late 8th through early(?) 7th centuries b.c.e. These ceramic objects are cylindrical vessels with open ends, everted upper rims, and green-glazed exterior and upper interiors. Although the state of preservation of these stands is fragmentary, their height (without the horn) can be estimated at 15– 20 cm and their width at ca. 15 cm. Some of the stands have a single, horn-like projection vertically attached to the rim. The projections are 4–8 cm long, with a circular or oval section and a rounded top. Some of the projections are straight, while others curve slightly outward. It is unclear whether each vessel had more than one of these Author’s note: To Sy Gitin, with gratitude and appreciation.

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Fig. 1.  (1–2) Horned stands from Tell Afis (after Soldi 2009: fig. 10, first row left and second row right); (3) horned stand from Hazor (after Yadin et al. 1960: pl. 62:5).

“horns”; similar complete vessels from Hazor (Yadin et al. 1960: 8, 14, pls. 62:5–8, 161:10–11; see also below) have single projections. At least 20 horned cylinders of this sort were found in association with the collapsed exterior walls of the temple; all of these objects were found outside the structure, along all four of its sides. Soldi (2009: 108) suggested that these objects could have been either cultic vessels or wall decorations. Preferring the second option, he hypothesized that they had a double function: being set into the wall, they decorated temple façades and drained rainwater. He proposed that “[t]he glazed surface would have had a double function as both [a] decorative and a water-proofing device.” However, in my view, these vessels are too wide and short to serve as drain pipes, and their conjectured decorative or drainage functions do not account for the existence of the unique projections on their rims. Soldi’s first suggestion, that these are cultic vessels, seems more plausible in light of comparative archaeological data and related literary and iconographic information. Comparanda for these objects are scarce. Their general body shape is similar to stands that were common in Egypt, Mesopotamia, and the Levant during the Bronze and Iron Ages. These cylindrical and hourglass-shaped stands of various sizes were used to support cooking pots and other household vessels, as well as offering bowls in ritual contexts. 1 To the best of my knowledge, the only known parallels to the Tell Afis vessels with elongated protrusions on rims come from Iron Age II Hazor, mentioned above. The Hazor stands have cylindrical bodies (13–16 cm in height, not including the horn, 16–18 cm in diameter), with slightly convex walls and everted upper rims. Four vessels of this sort were found together inside a casemate wall of Stratum VIII or 1.  For selected examples, see Tufnell 1953: pl. 90:395–402; Yadin et al. 1960: pls. 115:25–26; 147:1–2; Postgate, Oates, and Oates 1997: pls. 93–94; and also examples from Zinçirli and Khorsabad cited by Soldi 2009: 109.

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Fig. 2.  Schematic plan of Temple AI at Tell Afis (after Soldi 2009: fig. 6).

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Fig. 3.  Shrine model from Tel Rekhesh (after Muller 2002: fig. 156:b).

VII–VI (Yadin et al. 1960: 8–9) and can be dated to the late 9th–8th centuries b.c.e. Although Yadin et al. (1960: 14) denoted these vessels as stands and remarked that they were “apparently intended to support another vessel,” the single horn-like projections from the rim would impede this use. Rather, the upright stand–like shape of these objects makes functional sense only if it was designed to provide a stable base for the protrusion itself. Moreover, the straight lower rim and the everted upper rim, present in the examples from Tell Afis and Hazor but very rare on the regular household cylindrical stands, indicate that these objects were specifically designed to accommodate the protrusions on the f lat upper surface of the rim. I suggest that these protrusions represent horns—symbols of divine power and fertility. 2 Soldi explicitly called these protrusions “horns” but did not attempt to interpret them as sacred symbols. The Tell Afis examples can be regarded as relatively naturalistic representations of horns, while the one from Hazor, with its f lattened section, is more schematic. Unlike most ancient representations of this symbol, the horns on these stands are not paired. Other cases of nonpaired horns on objects include the top of “crown” no. 8 from the Chalcolithic hoard of Nahal Mishmar (fig. 4:2), which is adorned with several evenly-spaced single horns; a sculptured head of a deity from the Iron Age II Edomite sanctuary at Horvat Qitmit (Beck 2002: 179, fig. 6), which has

2.  On various symbolic aspects of bovine horns and other horned animal heads, see, e.g., Boehmer 1972–75; Potts 1990; Beck 2002: 37–43; Ziffer 2007.

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three horns; and four-horned altars from the Late Bronze and Iron Ages, which have single horns attached to each corner. 3 The findspots of horned stands from Hazor and Tell Afis are instructive. The stands from Hazor were found inside the Area A casemate wall that became obsolete when the entire upper city was fortified in Stratum VIII. Although the casemates of this wall lost their military function and were used as ordinary dwellings (Yadin et al. 1989: 39), cultic rituals were apparently still conducted there, either on top of the wall or inside the casemate. The stands from Tell Afis were evidently placed on the edges of the temple’s roof. This structure, with its “tower-temple” plan, represents a convergence between military and sacred architecture (Kempinski 1989; Mazar 1992: 163–73), and both functionally and symbolically, the walls of this temple can be considered fortifications. Towers, walls, and fortified gates were universal symbols of status, authority, and power. Moreover, temples were major social, economic, and political factors in ancient societies, and the fortress-like appearance of many of them ref lected their high status. It can be suggested that, when displayed during public rituals, horned stands reinforced the symbolic message conveyed by monumental military and ritual architecture. The shiny glazed coating of the Tell Afis stands further contributed to this effect. The connection between horns and public architecture is attested in the Levant and Mesopotamia from the 4th millennium b.c.e. onward (Potts 1990; Ziffer 2007: 49–52). In the Iron Age Levant, the existence of sanctuaries with horns attached to the corners of their roofs is suggested by a ceramic shrine model from Tel Rekhesh, which has an emphasized façade topped with two horns (fig. 3; see also Weinberg 1978: fig. 18). 4 Horns attached to temples in Lagash, Babylon, Mari, and Susa are mentioned in Akkadian sources (Potts 1990: 36–38). If the Nahal Mishmar “crowns” indeed represent public buildings (e.g., Moorey 1988: 179; see also below), then the above-mentioned horned “crown” no. 8 (fig. 4:2) as well as “crown” no. 7 (fig. 4:1) can be added to this list. Outside the Near East, the positioning of the Tell Afis stands on roofs recalls the Minoan horns of consecration, which frequently surmounted palaces, shrines, and tombs in Neopalatial Crete (D’Agata 1992). If the Hazor stands were placed on top of the city wall, this would recall not only the horns of consecration that stood on the parapet of the terrace wall that faced the Central Court of the Knossos palace (Hitchcock 2000: 99–100) but also the Achaemenid horns placed on the parapet of the monumental retaining wall of the western terrace at Persepolis (Garrison 2009: 3.  For the Late Bronze Age altars, see Muller 2002: figs. 55, 60, 86–88, 116–18, 176; for the Iron Age altars, see Gitin 1989; 2002; 2009; and Zwickel 2010, with bibliographical references. 4.  A relief from the palace of Sargon II at Khorsabad, which records an Assyrian attack on a Median town named Kisheshim (Botta and Flandin 1849: pl. 68), shows the citadel towers topped by huge pairs of stags’ antlers. The relevance of this representation to the discussed subject is unclear because the symbolism of antlers is part of Iranian tradition but is unknown in western Asia (Ziffer 2007: 50). Moreover, according to Potts (1990: 35–36 n. 14), these possible antlers may in fact be f lames that emanate from the towers set on fire.

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fig. 76). Coming from widely differing periods and regions, these examples may not provide direct comparanda to the horned stands, but they do indicate that the general symbolism of horn-shaped objects placed on the tops of public buildings or in other prominent locations was shared by many ancient cultures. Important evidence for the symbolic function of horns in the context of fortifications is provided by the four-horned altars, which represent towers with horn-shaped protrusions on their corners. The food or incense offerings placed on these altars symbolically re-created offering ceremonies performed on the tops of actual towers (Gitin 2002: 99). 5 Although there is no archaeological or other evidence that horns set on the corners of towers were a common feature in Levantine architecture, their appearance on the tops of tower-shaped altars clearly indicates that their symbolism was considered to be appropriate for this type of object. Neo-Assyrian tower-shaped stone altars exhibit many morphological similarities to the altars from Late Bronze Age Syria and Iron Age Israel but, instead of horns, they have rounded or stepped merlons (see references in Holloway 1996: 27 n. 1). Altars decorated with stepped merlons are also known from Carchemish and Tell Halaf (Porada 1967: 2 n. 1, fig. 4). This interchangeability of horns and merlons on top of altars implies that altar horns were symbolically equivalent to corner battlements of towers (see also Gitin 2002: 96). It can also be suggested that the small and nonfunctional glazed, stepped battlements known, for example, from Zinçirli (von Luschan and Andrae 1943: pl. 31:a–c) had the same general symbolism as the horned stands from Syria and Israel; both types of objects were symbols of divine protection found in the contexts of fortifications and temples. 6 Placed in prominent and raised locations, horned stands conveyed the message of divine and political power and enhanced the symbolism of city and temple walls as guardians of peace and prosperity and as foci of authority. The relatively small size of these objects indicates that they were not stationary installations. In the case of Tell Afis, it can be hypothesized that these horned stands were placed on the edge of the temple’s roof during ceremonies or festivals, perhaps connected with the cult of the storm-god Hadad, symbolized by the bull (Lipiński 2000: 632–34; it is to this deity that the Tell Afis monumental temple was probably dedicated; see Soldi 2009: 108). As for the stands from Hazor, these were perhaps used in rituals connected with the protection of the city from the attacking enemy. Cultic activities in various raised architectural settings in the ancient Near East is relatively well-documented. As can be learned from a variety of literary, iconographic, and archaeological sources, rooftop rituals were frequently conducted on tops of fortifications or ceremonial/cultic structures. References to such rituals appear in 5. According to Kempinski (1989) and Zwickel (2010), four-horned altars represented temples. Due to the above-mentioned fact that temples and fortification towers had shared symbolic and functional aspects, this view can be regarded as complementary to Gitin’s interpretation. 6.  On the symbolism of battlements in the ancient Near East, see Porada 1967; Gunter 1982: 107–8; Tawil 2006.

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documents from Ugarit (del Olmo Lete 2004: 29–33). KTU 1.41: 50–55 describes a ritual performed on the roof of the temple (of either Baal or El). The text mentions burnt offerings (therefore, we can infer that an altar stood there) and, according to Levine and de Tarragon (1993: 110–13), it describes stands with fruit offerings. The Ugaritic Legend of Keret describes this king as performing a sacrifice to El and Baal on the roof of the tower that belonged to the royal palace or to the temple of Baal (KTU 1.14: 74–80): “He took a fowl, a sacrificial bird, poured wine into a silver cup, [and] honey into a golden bowl. He climbed to the summit of the tower, mounted the top of the wall. He raised his hands heavenward, sacrificed to the Bull, his father ʾIlu” (Pardee 1997b: 335). In the royal hymn Iddin-Dagan A (the Old Babylonian liturgical text), rooftops are referred to as meeting places between the goddess Inana and the mortals: “Those who sleep on the roofs and those who sleep by the walls step up before her” (to be judged by Inana; see Jones 2003: 295). This important document explains the significance of the location of these ceremonies on roofs, because it was considered to be a proper place to establish contact with gods. Rooftop rituals (prayers, food and incense offerings, libations, etc.), performed on the roofs of palaces and private houses, are mentioned in a number of Assyrian and biblical texts (e.g., Weinfeld 1972; Albertz 1994: 189). In addition, a Ugaritic prayer for a city under siege (Pardee 1997a), possibly recited on top of the city wall (Burke 2008: 26), indicates the existence of apotropaic rituals performed to secure the divine protection of the city and to ward off the besieging enemy. A Canaanite ritual, performed on fortification walls and towers, is documented in Egyptian scenes of war and submission. These reliefs and wall paintings, dated to the reigns of Seti I and Ramesses II, show the ruler or commander of a besieged Canaanite town standing on a wall or tower and holding a chalice-shaped incense burner in his outstretched hand (Keel 1975: ills. 5, 15, 21, 23; Spalinger 1977). No archaeological evidence for such rituals is known from Late Bronze Age Canaanite sites, but there are several cases of ritual objects found in casemate walls and towers of Iron Age II sites in Israel: a complete kernos from the Horvat Rosh Zayit fort (Gal and Alexandre 2000: 14, 82–83); a large cylindrical stand with four loop handles from Tel Jezreel (Ussishkin and Woodhead 1994: 26–27, fig. 37; Zimhoni 1997: fig. 2.9:8); incense cups found at Hazor (Yadin et al. 1960: pls. 54:20–22, 62:5–8); and a Phoenician incense burner found at Kabri (Lehmann 2002: fig. 5.78:1). 7 It can be quite safely assumed that at least some of these finds attest that religious rituals were conducted inside or on top of casemate walls and towers. The fact that all of these objects come from the northern part of the country does not seem to be accidental and perhaps indicates that, at least during the Iron Age II, these rituals were associated with Aramean and/or Canaanite-Phoenician cultures. 7.  For archaeological evidence concerning the use of stone altars on the roofs of public buildings, see Gitin 2009 (from Iron Age II Ashkelon).

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This combination of iconographic, written, and archaeological sources provides a general background for the ritual use of the horned stands from Tell Afis and Hazor. The fact that these two geographically distant sites yielded ritual objects of a similar nature is not surprising. Various political events, such as the southward expansion of the Kingdom of Aram–Damascus under Hazael during the second half of the 9th–early 8th century b.c.e., and the incorporation of Syria and northern Israel into the Assyrian Empire in the 8th–7th centuries b.c.e. contributed to the intensification of cultural contacts between Aramean territories in western Syria and the southern Levant. It is unclear what region is responsible for the emergence of horned stands as a distinct type of cultic object (note that the Hazor examples may be somewhat earlier than those from Tell Afis). Therefore, horned stands from Hazor should not necessarily be considered a foreign cultural feature. In general, the material evidence for the Aramean presence in northern Israel is scant, and the precise cultural derivation of the relevant types of evidence is often unclear. 8 At the present stage of research, it seems that the most reasonable cultural background for the appearance of horned stands at both sites is the exchange of ideas between the various regions of the Levant, promoted by the above-mentioned political developments as well as, perhaps, by the commercial links between the Arameans and the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah. 9 The last point that should be discussed in relation to these horned stands is the possible significance of their general resemblance to the “crowns” from the Nahal Mishmar hoard. This hoard, dated to the second quarter of the 4th millennium b.c.e., contained hundreds of items, most of which were ceremonial objects made of copper or arsenical bronze (Bar-Adon 1980). The 10 “crowns” (Bar-Adon 1980: cat. nos. 7–16) are cylindrical, with concave walls (fig. 4:1–3). With a height ranging between 7 and 11 cm and a diameter between 15 and 19 cm, they are slightly wider and more squat than the stands from Tell Afis and Hazor. Five of the “crowns” have various projections attached to the upper rim: single horns, heads of horned animals, birds, pillar-shaped objects (scepters?), and gate-like openings with attached studs and a pair of ibex horns. The purpose and symbolism of the “crowns” are discussed in a number of studies. According to Bar-Adon, the most elaborate “crown” in the hoard (cat. no. 7, see fig.  4:1) represented a temple, while the protrusions on it were cult symbols (BarAdon 1980: 132; see also Epstein 1978: 26, 32; Beck 2002: 9–14). Moorey (1988: 179) and Merhav (1993: 37–38) have understood the “crowns” as representations of ritual 8.  For the various views on the archaeology of the Arameans in southern Syria and northern Israel, see Hafthorsson 2006: 185–246, with references. 9.  The existence of such links is indicated, for example, by the sheqel weight from Hamat that bears an Aramaic inscription and was probably used by the Arameans in transactions with Israel and Judah (Heltzer 2001), and by the biblical passage (1 Kgs 20:34) that mentions the offer of Ben-Hadad of Aram–Damascus to the victorious Ahab of Israel: “And you may set up huzot [markets/trading places] for yourself in Damascus as my father did in Samaria.”

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Fig. 4.  1–3: “Crowns” from the Nahal Mishmar Hoard (after Bar-Adon 1980: 24, 29, 34).

or funerary rounded structures, while Ziffer (2007) interpreted “crown” no. 7 as representing the residence of a ruler. These theories, however, do not explain how these objects were actually used. According to Tadmor, “[C]learly these were artifacts intended for use in some cultic ceremony,” conducted either in a temple or in household contexts (Tadmor 1989: 252), and Ussishkin (1971) suggested that the entire treasure originally belonged to the En-Gedi temple, where they were used by priests during rituals. In looking for a functional explanation for the “crowns,” Amiran (1985) went one step further and suggested that they are parts of composite stand-like altars. According to her, each of these altars was composed of 2–3 superimposed “crowns,” topped with those that had projections attached to their upper rim. 10 I do not claim to resolve completely the enigma of the function of these objects. However, the horned stands from Tell Afis and Hazor clearly have some typological affinities to the Nahal Mishmar “crowns,” expressed primarily in their cylindrical, open-ended shape, the decorative attachments

10.  Following this line of interpretation, it can be hypothesized that the superimposed “crowns” functioned as stands that carried round-bottomed incense burners, such as the cup-like copper vessel with sooty interior found in the Nahal Mishmar hoard (Bar-Adon 1980: 100–11 cat. no. 162). Alternatively, Amiran suggested that the round-bottomed vessel in question might have served as a cover (lid) for the stand and was placed with the rounded bottom up (Bar-Adon 1985: 11). Both reconstructions are tempting (if only because they imply the emergence of a connection between altars/incense burners and horns as early as the Chalcolithic period), but are, of course, speculative.

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to the upper rim, and the prominence of the horn motif. Therefore, in spite of the chronological gap of 3,000 years between the two groups of objects and the differences in raw material, iconography, and other aspects, the similarities between them should not be overlooked. These common traits are sufficiently strong to justify another look (or, at least, a glance) at the “crowns” in light of the discussion of the Iron Age horned stands presented above. Amiran’s suggestion (1985) that the “crowns” with protrusions were set on top of the plain ones is based on the (reasonable) underlying assumption that, in order to do justice to the rich symbolic imagery on the elaborate “crowns,” they had to be displayed in a prominent and visible location. As demonstrated above, the raised location was one of the central features of the rituals in which the horned stands from Tell Afis and Hazor were publicly displayed. In the urban Levant of the Iron Age II, such elevated settings were naturally provided by temple roofs and fortifications. Since the Chalcolithic southern Levant offers little evidence for monumental architecture, other means of public display of symbols of power and authority were used. Various standards, scepters, and mace-heads from Nahal Mishmar as well as from other sites were evidently carried during public processions and other rites; some of these ritual objects may have been set on poles (see also Merhav 1993: 24; Tadmor 1989: 258; Ziffer 2007: 51–52). According to Moorey (1988: 184) and Ziffer (2007: 53–55), these objects were carried by certain people as indicators of their social, political, or religious status. Due to the large number of identical (or nearly identical) ritual objects in the Nahal Mishmar hoard, this suggestion seems to be quite convincing. “Crowns,” however, served a somewhat different purpose. They did not symbolize the rank of a participant in a ritual but, rather, ultimate power—the power of a ruler or deity. Owing to their peculiar shape and lack of handles, these objects could not have been moved around easily during a ceremony. Rather, it seems that they represented stationary foci of attention. It is possible, for example, that they were placed on a podium or on a window sill of a ruler’s dwelling or a temple. In this respect, it is perhaps significant that the more elaborate “crowns” have a clearly emphasized front, marked by the square opening in “crown” no. 7, by the human face in “crown” no. 9, and by the pair of horned animal heads in “crown” no. 10 (Bar-Adon 1980: 28, 30, 32, respectively). The “crowns” were attention-focusing devices that could be seen at a distance and conveyed the intended message to people through their symbolism. The horned stands from Tell Afis and Hazor, with their shiny glaze, can be understood similarly, because they were most likely displayed during public rituals. It is possible that their lack of elaborate imagery is a result of the distance between the objects and the viewers. For example, any small-scale iconographic elements that would have been incorporated into the stands that were ultimately placed on the roof would not have been visible to the worshipers who stood around the Tell Afis temple. In contrast, the stark silhouettes of the horned stands were efficient attention-focusing devices, suitable for such a location. Is it possible that the difference between the Chalcolithic

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“crowns” and the Iron Age II horned stands with respect to elaborate, small-scale imagery had something to do with the fact that the monumental public architecture of roofs on which horned stands could be displayed emerged only during the Early Bronze Age? As a final remark, it should be mentioned that one cannot exclude the possibility that the “crowns” were simply crowns. Amiran (1985: 10) argued that these objects were too small and too heavy to function as crowns. However, it is possible that they were worn by a ruler only during the culmination of the ritual and for a limited amount of time. In a somewhat indirect way, this hypothetical scenario was recently supported by contemporary photographer Kimiko Yoshida, whose series of self-portraits included an image of herself wearing “crown” no. 7 from Nahal Mishmar (Yoshida 2005). 11 In her sophisticated attempt to decontextualize both the artifact and her own features, she made a small contribution to such a down-to-earth subject as the archaeology of the ancient Near East. 11.  Displayed at the exhibition “All That’s Not Me: Kimiko Yoshida, Photographs” at the Israel Museum, Jerusalem, February 2–April 29, 2006. “Crown” no. 7 can now be found on Yoshida’s Web site, http://www.kimiko.fr/art/thumbnails.php?album=24.

Bibliography Albertz, R. 1994 A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period, vol. 1: From the Beginnings to the End of the Monarchy. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox. Amiran, R. 1985 A Suggestion to See the Copper ‘Crowns’ of the Judaean Desert Treasure as Drums of Stand-Like Altars. Pp. 10–14 in Palestine in the Bronze and Iron Ages: Papers in Honour of Olga Tufnell, ed. J. N. Tubb. Institute of Archaeology Occasional Publication 11. London: Institute of Archaeology. Bar-Adon, P. 1980 The Cave of the Treasure: The Finds from the Caves in Nahal Mishmar. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Beck, P. 2002 Imagery and Representation. Studies in the Art and Iconography of Ancient Palestine: Collected Articles. Tel Aviv Occasional Publication 3. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University. Boehmer, R. M. 1972–75  Hörnenkrone. Pp. 431–34 in vol. 4 of Reallexikon der Assyriologie und voderasiatischen Archäologie. Botta, P. E., and Flandin, E. 1849 Monument de Ninive, vol. 1. 5 vols. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale. Burke, A. A. 2008 “Walled Up to Heaven”: The Evolution of Middle Bronze Age Fortification Strategies in the Levant. Harvard Semitic Monograph 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Cecchini, S. M., and Mazzoni, S., eds. 1998 Tell Afis (Siria): Scavi sull’acropoli 1988–1992. Pisa: ETS.

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D’Agata, A. L. 1992 Late Minoan Crete and Horns of Consecration: A Symbol in Action. Pp. 247–55 in EIKON: Aegean Bronze Age Iconography—Shaping a Methodology. Proceedings of the 4th International Aegean Conference, University of Tasmania, Hobart, Australia, 6–9 April 1992, ed. R. Laffineur and J. L. Crowley. Aegaeum 8. Liège: Université de l’Etat. Olmo Lete, G. del 2004 Canaanite Religion according to the Liturgical Texts of Ugarit. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Epstein, C. 1978 Aspects of Symbolism in Chalcolithic Palestine. Pp. 23–35 in Archaeology in the Levant: Essays for Kathleen Kenyon, ed. R. Moorey and P. Parr. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Gal, Z., and Alexandre, Y. 2000 Horbat Rosh Zayit: An Iron Age Storage Fort and Village. Israel Antiquities Authority Report 8. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Garrison, M. A. 2009 Visual Representations of the Divine and the Numinous in the Early Achmaenid Iran: Old Problems, New Directions. In Iconography of Deities and Demons: Electronic Pre-publications, htpp://www​ .religionswissenschaft.unizh.ch/idd. [accessed on 27.08.2010] Gitin, S. 1989 Incense Altars from Ekron, Israel and Judah: Context and Typology. Eretz-Israel 20 (Yadin Memorial Volume): 52*–67*. 2002 The Four-Horned Altar and Sacred Space: An Archaeological Perspective. Pp. 95–123 in Sacred Time, Sacred Space: Archaeology and the Religion of Israel, ed. B. M. Gittlen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2009 The Late Iron Age II Incense Altars from Ashkelon. Pp. 127–36 in Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager, ed. D. Schloen. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Gunter, A. 1982 Representation of Urartian and Western Iranian Fortress Architecture in the Assyrian Reliefs. Iran 20: 103–12. Hafthorsson, S. 2006 A Passing Power: An Examination of the Sources for the History of Aram–Damascus in the Second Half of the Ninth Century b.c. Coniectanea Biblica: Old Testament 54. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell. Heltzer, M. 2001 A New Weight from Hamath and Trade Relations with the South in the Ninth–Eighth Centuries b.c.e. Pp. 133–35 in The World of the Aramaeans, vol. 2: Studies in History and Archaeology in Honour of Paul-Eugene Dion, ed. P. M. Daviau, J. W. Wevers, and M. Weigl. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 325. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Hitchcock, L. A. 2000 Minoan Architecture: A Contextual Analysis. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology Pocket Book 155. Jonsered: Åströms. Holloway, S. W. 1996 Porch Lights in Neo-Assyrian Temples. Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale 90: 27–32. Jones, P. 2003 Embracing Inana: Legitimation and Mediation in the Ancient Mesopotamian Sacred Marriage Hymn Iddin-Dagan A. Journal of the American Oriental Society 123: 291–302. Keel, O. 1975 Kanaanäische sühneriten auf Ägyptischen tempelreliefs. Vetus Testamentum 25: 413–69. Kempinski, A. 1989 Reconstructing the Canaanite Tower-Temple. Eretz-Israel 20 (Yadin Memorial Volume): 82–85. [Hebrew with English summary, pp. 196*–97*] KTU = Dietrich, M.; Loretz, O.; and Sanmartín, J., eds. 1976 Die Keilalphabetischen Texte aus Ugarit. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 24. Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag.

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