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Ägypten und altes TestamenT 106 ÄAT 106 Susnow • The Practice of Canaanite Cult
The Practice of Canaanite Cult The Middle and Late Bronze Ages Matthew Susnow
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The Practice of Canaanite Cult The Middle and Late Bronze Ages
Matthew Susnow
ÄGYPTEN UND ALTES TESTAMENT Studien zu Geschichte, Kultur und Religion Ägyptens und des Alten Testaments
Band 106
Gegründet von Manfred Görg Herausgegeben von Stefan Jakob Wimmer und Wolfgang Zwickel
The Practice of Canaanite Cult The Middle and Late Bronze Ages
Matthew Susnow
Zaphon Münster 2021
Cover illustration: Sketch of a Canaanite Temple, by Stefanie Jadd Susnow.
Ägypten und Altes Testament, Band 106 Matthew Susnow: The Practice of Canaanite Cult: The Middle and Late Bronze Ages
© 2021 Zaphon, Enkingweg 36, Münster (www.zaphon.de) All rights reserved. Printed in Germany. Printed on acid-free paper. ISBN 978-3-96327-142-7 (Buch) ISBN 978-3-96327-143-4 (E-Book) ISSN 0720-9061
I dedicate this book to my wife, Stef, and to our four children, Lev, Hila, Aviv and Raz, all of whom were born during my graduate years when the research for this book was conducted and who have ceaselessly blessed our lives. In memory of my father, Robert L. Susnow, z”l, who still inspires me every single day of my life.
Preface The idea for this monograph all began with a simple misunderstanding. When I approached my doctoral advisor, Prof. Assaf Yasur-Landau, for the first time back in 2012 with a proposal for conducting research under his guidance, I was quite clear about my interests in the material culture of the Middle and Late Bronze Age populations of the southern Levant. Having just completed my master’s degree in religious studies at the Divinity School at the University of Chicago, Assaf “accidentally” reinterpreted my suggested research of Bronze Age Canaanite culture as a study of Canaanite cult. Little did I realize at the time how wise this redirection was: there was still a large amount of work to be done on the topic. Canaanite religion was not at all a new topic to me. I was already well acquainted with many studies on the subject, and my time in Chicago, particularly at the Oriental Institute under the guidance of Prof. David Schloen, had familiarized me with various approaches and tools that scholars utilized in the discourse on Canaanite religion. It was apparent to me that while the religion of the Canaanites had been a topic of study for over a century, there was very little systematic methodology applied to its investigation. Early studies on Canaanite religion were largely based on the Iron Age Hebrew Bible, and upon their discovery, the Late Bronze Age texts from Ugarit and later Phoenician and Classical sources. However, it struck me as a major challenge that only a few fragmentary local texts are, in actuality, extant from the Middle and Late Bronze Age southern Levant, and in any case, they offer very little for the reconstruction of Middle and Late Bronze Age cult. It therefore became clear to me that a purely textual approach to the topic presents a series of methodological issues, namely, how should textual sources that are neither local nor contemporary be appropriately utilized in the investigation of cultic practices in the southern Levant? These conclusions of mine were followed by yet another observation of how Canaanite cult has been researched – both traditionally and currently. With the immense increase in available archaeological data on Bronze Age Canaanite cultic spaces over the past few decades, little has been done to compile and analyze all this data in an effort to understand the behavioral patterns associated with these spaces. Further, while recent trends in studies on Canaanite religion have commendably made use of both archaeological and textual sources, no explicit methodology has been put forth for determining the relationship between the two disparate forms of data. In other words, how do textual claims and archaeological data relate to one another, i.e., how do mythologies or rituals detailed in texts from Ugarit in the northern Levant clarify how objects such as bowls or miniature vessels were used in a temple in the southern Levant? These issues became a driving force for developing a new approach to the topic. As it turns out, very few studies are both comprehensive and pay sole attention to the investigation of Middle and Late Bronze Age religion in Canaan. Rather, the topic has largely either been included as small sections of more general studies on Bronze Age Canaan or has been framed looking forward to and packaged with studies on Iron Age religion in Israel. No studies have systematically analyzed the distribution of objects from each and every excavated Middle and Late Bronze Age temple in the southern Levant with the aim at reconstructing, based on archaeological evidence and methods, the repertoire of activities that were in fact performed within them. Hence, the premise of this volume, which aims to establish and implement a sound and reproduceable methodology for the identification of how temples were used, based primarily on the spatial analysis of the distribution of objects throughout various temple spaces. While the primary goal of the research that went into this volume was to establish a method for identifying the range of activities that were performed in Middle and Late Bronze Age southern Levantine temples, it is the much more global hope of this work that the method can be applied broadly to the analysis of ancient religions in different time periods and in other regions throughout the world. As all long-term projects, this volume was not conducted in a vacuum. Arrival at the final product herein was an extensive process that involved much advice, support and help – scholarly and financial as well as moral and emotional – from many different individuals. I owe a great deal of thanks to Prof. Assaf Yasur-Landau for his endless guidance, support and encouragement throughout the many years of research which precipitated this book. Assaf constantly pushed me to inquisitively question and challenge assumptions and consensus on general, specific and theoretical topics and issues in the field of archaeology, while teaching me how to lucidly formulate clear, organized and logical arguments. He also first introduced me to methods in household archaeology which formed one of the fun-
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Preface
damental premises of my methodological approach to cult. I would further like to thank my other co-advisors, Prof. Eric Cline and Dr. Gil Gambash, who both closely read and commented on the manuscript and helped to mold the text into its final and more coherent form. I would also like to acknowledge the constructive comments and insights provided to me by Profs. Aren Maeir and Itzhaq Shai, both of whom were referees on my doctoral committee. Numerous other scholars have left their mark on my research, and in many ways, on me. Faculty members and associated researchers of the University of Haifa’s Department of Maritime Civilizations require mention. First, I thank Dr. Ezra Marcus for his ceaseless guidance, friendship, and seven years of coffee. I recommend to anyone passing by campus to stop by his laboratory for the best cup of espresso in the country. I would not have survived my years in Haifa without his presence, kindness, listening ear and basic expertise in all things. I am indebted to Prof. Michal Artzy for allowing me to use and analyze unpublished material from Tel Nami, which appears in Chapter 13, and for reading and revising this part of my manuscript. I would also like to thank Ms. Ragna Stidsing for providing her expertise and help with the Tel Nami material. To Dr. Yossi Salmon, the many impromptu conversations in the hallways of the department will never be forgotten, many of which bore the seeds of important ideas that made their way into the text. I would like to thank Dr. Aaron Brody and Dr. Jennie Ebeling, both of whom I am so fortunate to have crossed paths with during my graduate studies and who, unprompted, offered to read large sections of this manuscript and provided me with constructive feedback. I thank Prof. Jonathan Ben-Dov, amongst other things, for encouraging me to pursue Akkadian and the world of Assyriology. This opened up the door to new ideas and concepts from which my research greatly benefited and allowed me to meet, engage the discourse of and research with leading Assyriologists, including Prof. Wayne Horowitz, Dr. Uri Gabbay, Dr. Yitzhaq Feder, and Prof. Yoram Cohen, all of whom I am grateful to for their guidance and feedback on various aspects of my research. I would also like to thank Prof. Stephen Bourke of the University of Sydney who kindly provided me with his opinions and insights of the unpublished material from the temple sequence at Pella. This enabled me to include Pella in my analysis. I am forever beholden to the Queens of Kabri – Dr. Alex Ratzlaff, Dr. Inbal Samet, and Nurith Goshen – for years of help and ideas and for always sharing their perceptive thoughts, scholarly and otherwise. From the University of Chicago, I thank Profs. Simeon Chavel, Jeffrey Stackert and David Schloen for their continued support of and interest in my research, always available for me to discuss theory, issues in textual interpretation, and for providing me with laundry lists of studies and references from which this work greatly benefited. To all the graduate students I met during my time in Haifa with whom I commiserated and from whom I learned many lessons in archaeology and life, I thank them for both the academic and the moral support. This research could not have been conducted without the financial support from numerous different sources. I thank the Nathan Rotenstreich Ph.D. Scholarship, the University of Haifa’s Research Authority’s Ph.D. Scholarship, the Ph.D. Scholarship fund from Israel’s Ministry of Aliyah and Immigrant Absorption and the Sir Maurice and Lady Irene Hatter Ph.D. Research Grant. The completion of this book would not have been accomplished without the support of Dr. Naama Yahalom-Mack over the past two years and the office space which she provided me, in addition to the postdoctoral scholarship money awarded to me from The Roger and Susan Hertog Center for Research. Finally, I thank the editors of the series Ägypten und Altes Testament, Profs. Wolfgang Zwickel and Stefan Wimmer, for taking on this project to publish my monograph in the series, as well as Dr. Kai Metzler for his editorial guidance throughout the editing process of this volume. Last, I cannot find the words to express and encapsulate the amount and levels of gratitude I have for my wife, Stef, who never ceased to support and encourage me throughout these challenging years of researching and writing. I thank her for believing in me throughout this process, allowing me the long days, late nights, and the summers away from home, in order to make this final product a success. I could not have, and would not have, done this without her unconditional and abiding love and support. Matthew Susnow Jerusalem, November 2020
Content Preface ............................................................................................................................................................. 7 List of Abbreviations..................................................................................................................................... 15 Part I: Introduction and Overview of the Research Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................................. 18 1.1 The Research Topic: Religion in the Southern Levant ...................................................................... 18 1.2 The Need for a New Approach to Canaanite Religion ...................................................................... 19 1.3 Aims and Research Questions ........................................................................................................... 20 1.3.1 Aims .......................................................................................................................................... 20 1.3.2 Research Questions ................................................................................................................... 20 1.4 Methodology ..................................................................................................................................... 21 1.4.1 Previous Methodologies Employed in the Archaeology of Cult and Ritual .............................. 21 1.4.2 The Use of Low, Middle, and High-Level Theory .................................................................... 21 1.4.3 This Study’s Methodology ........................................................................................................ 21 1.5 The Novelty of this Book’s Approach ............................................................................................... 22 1.6 Organizational Scheme of this Book ................................................................................................. 23 Chapter 2: Overview of the Research: Working Definitions, Background, and Rationale ........................... 25 2.1 Definitions: Defining the Terms of this Study – “Middle and Late Bronze Canaan” and Canaanite Religion”............................................................................................................................ 25 2.1.1 Chronology ................................................................................................................................ 25 2.1.2 Canaan and Canaanite ............................................................................................................... 25 2.1.3 Religion ..................................................................................................................................... 26 2.2 General Overview of the MB and LB Southern Levant .................................................................... 27 2.2.1 MB – Settlement History ........................................................................................................... 27 2.2.2 LB – Settlement History ............................................................................................................ 27 2.2.3 Communal Social Structure of the MB and LB......................................................................... 28 2.3 History of Research and Scholarship of Canaanite Religion ............................................................. 29 2.3.1 Before Ugarit: Early Approaches to Canaanite Religion........................................................... 30 2.3.2 Studies on Canaanite Religion Since the Discovery of Ugarit .................................................. 30 2.3.3 Archaeological Studies on Canaanite Religion: Iconography, Architecture, and Holistic Approaches .............................................................................................................................. 32 2.4 Theory ................................................................................................................................................ 33 2.4.1 Ritual ......................................................................................................................................... 33 2.4.2 Sacrifice ..................................................................................................................................... 35 2.4.3 Feasting and Commensality....................................................................................................... 36 Part II: Cultic Architecture in the Southern Levant Chapter 3: Towards a New Direction in Analyzing Canaanite Cultic Architecture ...................................... 40 3.1 What are Temples? ............................................................................................................................ 40 3.2 The Study of Cultic Architecture ...................................................................................................... 40 3.2.1 Previous Studies on Temples in MB and LB Canaan ................................................................ 41 3.2.2 Critique of These Previous Studies............................................................................................ 43 3.2.3 Phenomenology, Space Use, and Interpretation in Archaeology .............................................. 43 3.3 The Layout of Part II ......................................................................................................................... 44 Chapter 4: Architecture ................................................................................................................................. 46 4.1 Organization of the Analysis on Temple Architecture ...................................................................... 46 4.2 The Intermediate Bronze Age ............................................................................................................ 46 4.2.1 Tel ‘Ashir .................................................................................................................................. 46
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Content 4.2.2 Cave near Qedesh ...................................................................................................................... 47 4.2.3 Continuity of Cultic Traditions from the IBA to the Beginning of the MB .............................. 47 4.3 MB Open-Air Loci of Cultic Activity................................................................................................ 48 4.3.1 Nahariya .................................................................................................................................... 48 4.3.2 Byblos ........................................................................................................................................ 50 4.3.3 Megiddo..................................................................................................................................... 51 4.3.4 Hazor ......................................................................................................................................... 52 4.3.5 Gezer ......................................................................................................................................... 53 4.3.6 Conclusions ............................................................................................................................... 53 4.4 Urban Migdal Temples in MB Canaan: A Standardized Form of Temple Architecture .................. 54 4.4.1 Ugarit ......................................................................................................................................... 54 4.4.2 Hazor ......................................................................................................................................... 55 4.4.3 Megiddo..................................................................................................................................... 57 4.4.4 Shechem .................................................................................................................................... 58 4.4.5 Pella ........................................................................................................................................... 59 4.4.6 Tel Haror ................................................................................................................................... 60 4.4.7 Tell el-Dab‘a .............................................................................................................................. 62 4.5 Rural Migdal Temples ....................................................................................................................... 63 4.5.1 Tell el-Hayyat ............................................................................................................................ 63 4.5.2 Tel Kitan .................................................................................................................................... 64 4.6 Discussion: Migdal Temples in the Southern Levant and Beyond .................................................... 65 4.6.1 Syrian Origins of the Migdal Temple Form .............................................................................. 65 4.6.2 Assessing the Role of Migdal Temples in the Southern Levant ................................................ 65 4.7 Other less well-defined Temples from the MB .................................................................................. 66 4.7.1 Givat Sharett .............................................................................................................................. 66 4.7.2 Naḥal Repha’im ......................................................................................................................... 67 4.7.3 Manaḥat ..................................................................................................................................... 67 4.7.4 Al-Walajah ................................................................................................................................ 68 4.7.5 Ashkelon .................................................................................................................................... 69 4.8 New Temples in the LB ..................................................................................................................... 70 4.8.1 Lachish ...................................................................................................................................... 70 4.8.2 Beth Shean ................................................................................................................................. 73 4.8.3 Tel Mevorakh ............................................................................................................................ 75 4.8.4 Hazor Area C ............................................................................................................................. 76 4.8.5 Tell Abu Hawam ....................................................................................................................... 77 4.8.6 Tell Abu Al-Kharaz ................................................................................................................... 77 4.9 Discussion: Making Sense of the Diversity in Canaanite Temple Architecture ................................ 78
Chapter 5: Temple Courtyards ...................................................................................................................... 80 5.1 Methodology ...................................................................................................................................... 80 5.2 Temples with a Temenos.................................................................................................................... 81 5.2.1 Hazor ......................................................................................................................................... 81 5.2.2 Megiddo..................................................................................................................................... 85 5.2.3 Tel Haror ................................................................................................................................... 85 5.2.4 Tell el-Dab‘a .............................................................................................................................. 86 5.2.5 Ugarit ......................................................................................................................................... 86 5.3 Open-Air Sites ................................................................................................................................... 87 5.3.1 Nahariya .................................................................................................................................... 87 5.3.2 Byblos ........................................................................................................................................ 88 5.3.3 Gezer ......................................................................................................................................... 88 5.4 Temple Courtyards: Access Points to the Divine .............................................................................. 89 Chapter 6: Synthesis and Conclusions .......................................................................................................... 91 6.1 Southern Levantine Temples as Houses?........................................................................................... 91 6.2 Integrating Temple and Temple Courtyard ........................................................................................ 91
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Part III: Activities in Canaanite Temples Chapter 7: Identifying Activities in the Archaeological Record: Introduction and Methodology ................ 96 7.1 How to Determine Activity Types in Temples: The Need for a Methodology .................................. 96 7.2 Methods Used in Household Archaeology ........................................................................................ 97 7.3 Methodology in the Archaeological Study of Cult: A Rubric for Identifying Activity Types in Cultic Contexts ............................................................................................................................. 97 7.3.1 Activity Types Categories ......................................................................................................... 98 7.3.2 Types of Objects and Vessels Considered in this Study ............................................................ 99 7.4 Types of Contexts Considered in this Study .................................................................................... 103 7.4.1 Favissae ................................................................................................................................... 103 Chapter 8: Hazor Area H, the Orthostat Temple ......................................................................................... 105 8.1 Contextual Analysis ......................................................................................................................... 105 8.1.1 Stratum 3 ................................................................................................................................. 105 8.1.2 Stratum 2 ................................................................................................................................. 106 8.1.3 Stratum 1B ............................................................................................................................... 108 8.1.4 Stratum 1A .............................................................................................................................. 110 8.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns ....................................................................................................... 111 8.2.1 Temple Interior ........................................................................................................................ 111 8.2.2 Temple Courtyard .................................................................................................................... 112 8.2.3 The Use of Specific Objects .................................................................................................... 112 8.3 The Use of Space in the Orthostat Temple: General Trends and Diachronic Changes in how Cult was Practiced in Area H at Hazor ............................................................................................. 118 8.3.1 The Temple’s Emphasis on Consumption and Ritual ............................................................. 118 8.3.2 New Light Shed on Previous Interpretations ........................................................................... 119 Chapter 9: Hazor Area C, the Stelae Temple .............................................................................................. 122 9.1 Contextual Analysis ......................................................................................................................... 122 9.1.1 Stratum 1B ............................................................................................................................... 122 9.1.2 Stratum 1A .............................................................................................................................. 122 9.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns ....................................................................................................... 123 9.2.1 The Use of Special Objects within the Stelae Temple............................................................. 123 9.3 Vernacular Cult at Hazor: Interpretation of the Stelae Temple ....................................................... 125 9.3.1 Assessing Previous Interpretations: Moon Deity Worship or Cult of the Dead? .................... 125 9.3.2 Activities from the Area C Neighborhood............................................................................... 125 9.3.3 The Relationship between the Sacred and Profane in Vernacular Cultic Spaces .................... 127 Chapter 10: Lachish Fosse Temple ............................................................................................................. 128 10.1 Contextual Analysis ....................................................................................................................... 128 10.1.1 Phase I ................................................................................................................................... 128 10.1.2 Phase II .................................................................................................................................. 130 10.1.3 Phase III ................................................................................................................................. 131 10.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns ..................................................................................................... 134 10.2.1 Temple I ................................................................................................................................ 134 10.2.2 Temple II ............................................................................................................................... 136 10.2.3 Temple III .............................................................................................................................. 138 10.3 The Idiosyncratic Practice of Cult at the Fosse Temple................................................................. 140 10.3.1 Long-term Trends and Diachronic Changes in the Use of Space .......................................... 140 10.3.2 Assessing Previous Interpretations: How this Study Compares ............................................ 142 Chapter 11: Tel Mevorakh .......................................................................................................................... 144 11.1 Contextual Analysis ....................................................................................................................... 144 11.1.1 Stratum XI Temple ................................................................................................................ 144 11.1.2 Stratum X Temple ................................................................................................................. 145
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Content 11.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns ..................................................................................................... 146 11.2.1 Consumption, Votive Offerings, and Movement Through Space ......................................... 146 11.2.2 Possible Metal Production ..................................................................................................... 147 11.2.3 The Use of Special Objects at Tel Mevorakh ........................................................................ 148 11.3 The Role and Function of the Roadside Shrine at Tel Mevorakh .................................................. 148
Chapter 12: Nahariya .................................................................................................................................. 150 12.1 Contextual Analysis ....................................................................................................................... 150 12.1.1 Stratum V – The Square Building, Bammah, and Surrounding Courtyard............................ 150 12.1.2 Stratum IV – The Large Bammah, Outdoor Courtyard Areas and Rectangular Building to the North ............................................................................................................................ 151 12.1.3 Stratum III – The Large Bammah, Outdoor Courtyard Areas and Rectangular Building to the North ............................................................................................................................ 152 12.1.4 Strata II and I ......................................................................................................................... 152 12.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns ..................................................................................................... 152 12.2.1 Stratum V............................................................................................................................... 152 12.2.2 Stratum IV ............................................................................................................................. 153 12.2.3 Stratum III ............................................................................................................................. 154 12.2.4 Strata II and I ......................................................................................................................... 155 12.3 The Nahariya Cult: A Unique MB Extramural Space within the Canaanite Religious Landscape 155 12.3.1 Unique Trends in Activity Types at Nahariya ....................................................................... 155 12.3.2 The Use and Distribution of Special Objects Related to Cult and Ritual .............................. 155 12.3.3 The Nature of the Cult: Recontextualizing Previous Interpretations ..................................... 157 12.3.4 Open-Air Activities related to Ritual and Deposits: Foundations, Dedications and Hoards . 158 12.3.5 What the Activities at Nahariya Signify ................................................................................ 159 Chapter 13: Other Cultic Sites in the MB and LB Southern Levant ........................................................... 160 13.1 General Trends ............................................................................................................................... 160 13.2 MB Cultic Sites .............................................................................................................................. 160 13.2.1 Tell el-Hayyat ........................................................................................................................ 160 13.2.2 Lachish Area D ...................................................................................................................... 161 13.2.3 Tel Haror ............................................................................................................................... 162 13.2.4 Sidon ...................................................................................................................................... 162 13.2.5 Tell el-Dab‘a .......................................................................................................................... 163 13.3 LB Cultic Sites ............................................................................................................................... 163 13.3.1 Lachish Acropolis Temple..................................................................................................... 163 13.3.2 Beth Shean, Temple 58066 .................................................................................................... 164 13.3.3 Tel Nami ................................................................................................................................ 165 13.4 Discussion and Conclusions: Trends in Canaanite Cultic Sites ..................................................... 166 Chapter 14: Household Activity Types ....................................................................................................... 168 14.1 Hazor, Area C (MB III): Household Activities.............................................................................. 168 14.2 LB and Iron Age Southern Levantine Household Activities ......................................................... 168 14.3 Trends in Activity Types Outside of the Southern Levant............................................................. 169 14.3.1 LB Domestic and Temple Contexts at Tell Kazel ................................................................. 169 14.3.2 Tall Bazi on the Euphrates (LB) ............................................................................................ 169 Chapter 15: Canaanite Activities in Cultic Spaces ...................................................................................... 171 15.1 Understanding the Activities Conducted within Canaanite Temples............................................. 171 15.2 The Contrast between Activities in Cultic Spaces Versus Domestic Spaces ................................. 171 15.3 The Use of Space in Other Ancient Near Eastern Temples ........................................................... 172 15.4 Ritual, Ritualization, and Activities in Canaanite Cultic Spaces ................................................... 172 15.5 Conclusions: The Utility of the Methodology ............................................................................... 172
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Part IV: Between Praxis and Ideology Chapter 16: Religious Praxis ....................................................................................................................... 176 16.1 Introduction .................................................................................................................................... 176 16.2 Diachronic Change ........................................................................................................................ 176 16.2.1 Architecture ........................................................................................................................... 176 16.2.2 Activities and Offerings......................................................................................................... 179 16.2.3 Hazor as a Case Study: Diachronic Change and Diversity in Architecture and Activities.... 180 16.3 Practices According to Ritual Texts............................................................................................... 181 16.3.1 Ritual Activities ..................................................................................................................... 181 16.3.2 Libations ................................................................................................................................ 182 16.3.3 Incense Burning ..................................................................................................................... 182 16.3.4 Maṣṣebot ................................................................................................................................ 183 16.4 Canaanite Ritual Praxis .................................................................................................................. 186 16.4.1 Ritual ..................................................................................................................................... 186 16.4.2 Feasting and Commensality................................................................................................... 187 16.4.3 Social Aspects of Offerings ................................................................................................... 189 16.4.4 The Use of Iconography ........................................................................................................ 190 16.5 Insights into Ritual Praxis in Canaan ............................................................................................. 191 Chapter 17: Canaanite Religious Structure and Ideology ........................................................................... 193 17.1 Introduction .................................................................................................................................... 193 17.2 Methodological Approach to the Use of Text and Analogy in this Study ..................................... 193 17.2.1 Sources .................................................................................................................................. 194 17.3 Canaanite Religious Ideologies...................................................................................................... 195 17.3.1 Divine Host and Invitation: Bringing the Sacred into Natural and Urban Landscapes ......... 195 17.3.2 The Multivocality of Canaanite Cultic Spaces ...................................................................... 196 17.3.3 Ritual Hierarchy Created by Culinary Rules, Portions, and Conspicuous Consumption ...... 198 17.3.4 Beyond Temple Cult: Integrating Temple Ritual into the Surrounding Landscape .............. 200 17.3.5 Conceptions of Cult of the Dead ........................................................................................... 204 17.4 The Structure of Cult and Ritual .................................................................................................... 205 17.4.1 Temple Administration: Cultic Personnel and Hierarchy...................................................... 205 17.4.2 Ritual Purity........................................................................................................................... 207 17.4.3 Temples as Institutions .......................................................................................................... 208 17.5 Iconography ................................................................................................................................... 209 17.5.1 A Glimpse into Ancient Scenes, Motifs and Religious Imagery ........................................... 209 17.5.2 Figurines, Gender and other Media: Diachronic Change as Reflections of Elite and Non-elite Ideologies............................................................................................................... 210 17.6 Discussion: Insights into Religious Ideology through Analogy..................................................... 213 17.7 Conclusions: The Particulars of Canaanite Religious Ideology ..................................................... 216 Part V: Conclusions Chapter 18: Conclusions ............................................................................................................................. 220 18.1 Conclusions Arrived at in this Book .............................................................................................. 220 18.2 New Insights into Canaanite Religion ........................................................................................... 221 18.3 Concluding Remarks: Why all of this Matters............................................................................... 224 Bibliography ................................................................................................................................................ 227 Tables ......................................................................................................................................................... 265 Figures ......................................................................................................................................................... 287
List of Abbreviations CAD
The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, eds. I.J. Gelb. Chicago: Oriental Institute, 1956–2010.
COS I
The Context of Scripture. Vol. I, Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World, eds. W.W. Hallo and K.L. Younger, Jr. Leiden: Brill, 1997.
DULAT
A Dictionary of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition, eds. G. del Olmo Lete and J. Sanmartín. Leiden: Brill, 2015.
EA
El Amarna (siglum for el-Amarna letters and refers to the numbering of the archive’s letters in accordance with Die El-Amarna-Tafeln mit Einleitung und Erläuterungen. 2 vols, J.A. Knudtzon. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1915).
Emar (VI/1–4)
Recherches au pays d’Aštata: Les Textes Sumériens et Accadiens, D. Arnaud. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 1985–1987.
FM
Florilegium Marianum VIII. Le Culte des Pierres et les Monuments Commémoratifs en Syrie Amorrite, J.-M. Durand. Mémoire de NABU 9, 2005.
HALOT
The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament, eds. L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner, and J.J. Stamm. Translated and edited under the supervision of M.E.J. Richardson. 4 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1994–1999.
KTU/CAT
Die Keilalphabetischen Texte aus Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani und anderen Orten = The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places, M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2013.
RS
Ras Shamra (excavation number)
UT
Ugaritic Textbook, C.H. Gordon. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1965.
Wiseman Alalakh
Tablets from Alalakh (text numbers are in accordance with The Alalakh Tablets, D.J. Wiseman. London: The British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 1953).
Part I Introduction and Overview of the Research
Chapter 1 Introduction 1.1
The Research Topic: Religion in the Southern Levant
This book explores Canaanite religion and ritual from an archaeological perspective. In the process, it sheds new light on the use of space within southern Levantine temples as well as the religious ideologies motivating the behavioral patterns identified in those cultic contexts. Religion and ritual are both universalistic and particularistic. Universally, since the first signs of religion, religious-inspired activity and artwork have been detected, certain cross-cultural traits appear time and again: concerns with life, death, nature and fertility (e.g. Wightman 2007: 916–917). At the same time, religion is a particularistic phenomenon, related to specific ecological concerns. From time immemorial, a constant concern of humans everywhere and at any specific period was survival: the necessity to maintain supplies of food and water, primarily; protection from the elements; defensive capabilities; and access to lines of communication and trade networks (e.g. Marcus 1991: 1). Different permutations of and responses to these concerns would certainly leave unique marks on a group’s religious practices. The specific local and regional settings within which a particular cultural group was located undoubtedly impacted the daily concerns, livelihood, general lifestyles and worldviews and belief systems of the populace. This is especially true of the eastern Mediterranean where different strategies of survival were necessary to survive the capricious climate, diverse ecological systems and variegated geographical and topographical settings of the numerous micro-regions (Horden and Purcell 2000: 53–54, 77–86; 175–176, 178–182, 197– 209). Specifically, the southern Levant was no different (Fig. 1.1a–c). Its specific geographic location, climate, environmental and ecological setting, and topography – bounded by desert and mountains to the east, south and north, and the Mediterranean Sea to the west – had a significant impact upon development of human settlement and interaction as well as social, political, economic and religious structures in the region (Mazar 1990: 1–9; Rainey 2006: 30–32). At the onset of the second millennium B.C.E. in the southern Levant, a new urban horizon was established (Cohen 2002: 1–3; 2016: 39–51, 81–85). This was in fact the second period of urbanization in the region, following the demise or collapse of the previous Early Bronze Age (hereafter EBA) urban system and the subsequent rural period that marked the end of the EBA and defined the Intermediate Bronze Age (hereafter IBA) (Long 1988; Palumbo 1990; 2001; Dever 1995; Covello-Paran 2015). The establishment of renewed urbanization during the Middle Bronze Age (hereafter MBA) has been characterized as the floruit and zenith of Canaanite culture (Dever 1987; Mazar 1992; Kempinski 1992a; Ilan 1995). This new period of urbanization witnessed new innovation in the region, including new settlement patterns, architecture, technology, material culture and burials. Various explanations for the appearance of these new phenomena in the region have been posited, ranging from exogenous forces or influences (Albright 1933, 1966: 32–35; Wright 1960, 1971; Kenyon 1966: 33, 58–60; Mazar 1968; Dever 1976: 5, 15; 1987; Gerstenblith 1980: 65–69, 73–75; 1983: 2; Mazar 1990: 189; Kempinski 1992b; Burke 2014: 403–407) to local endogenous innovation (Tubb 1983: 55–59; Falconer 1987: 23; Finkelstein 1992, 1995: 362; Bunimovitz 1992; Falconer and Savage 1995: 48–49; Ilan 1995: 297; Greenberg 2002; Cohen 2002: 14–16; 2016; Falconer and Fall 2006). More nuanced explanations have sought looking for both local and foreign factors at play, whether related to the actual movement of populations or to the diffusion of ideas through contact without actual migration. There is significant continuity in the period following the MB in terms of material culture. However, whereas the MB (2000/1950–1550/1500 B.C.E) can be characterized as revolutionary and the pinnacle of power and legacy of the mighty Canaanite urban centers (Mazar 1990: 174–231), the following Late Bronze Age (hereafter LBA, ca. 1550–1140 B.C.E) experienced political and socioeconomic fracturing and fragmenting. In contrast to the more homogenous and stable MB settlement systems, the LB was more diversified and was a less-integrated system of interconnected regions and polities (e.g. Gonen 1984, 1992; Bunimovitz 1989, 1994, 1995; 2019; Savage and Falconer 2003; Panitz-Cohen 2014: 543). This book emphasizes the remarkable responsiveness and adaptiveness of Canaanite cult, understanding it in terms of its flexibility and as reflective of the diversity of the various micro-regions in the southern Levant. Canaanite religion was not a homogeneous tradition, but rather was one which was expressed in very heterogeneous terms. Canaanite cult and rituals were not confined to conformity from one site to the next, nor from one period to the next. At times, standardized architecture and practices are evident, but as this
Introduction
19
study will show, the complexity of defining Canaanite religion is a result of the above-mentioned characteristics. In addition to emphasizing these qualities, this book has arrived at the conclusion that temples were venues within which social cohesion and group unity were forged, not only through the worship of the deities but through acts of large-scale communal consumption as well as the presentation of offerings of various organic and non-organic materials. In this light, temples were focal points for initiating contact with and inviting the sacred – the deity – into the profane – the realm of humanity. As such, this study questions one of the fundamental understanding of temples: were these houses of the deities? The answer is both yes and no, and this issue will be revisited a number of times throughout the duration of this book.
1.2
The Need for a New Approach to Canaanite Religion
The place and role of religion in the MB and LB has been the topic of much debate. Much ink has spilled over defining Canaanite religion, for there has been a long tradition of theologians, historians and archaeologists alike who have been motivated to understand the backdrop of the later Iron Age Israelite religion – a religion which consistently denigrated the Canaanites by utilizing the trope of the Canaanites and Canaanite religion as a moral, religious and ethical foil to what was just, good, and proper in the eyes of their deity (Hillers 1985: 259). However, many early studies of the Bronze Age religion of the Canaanites by scholars such as by Albright, Kaufmann, Wright, Cross and Gottwald were pitted in biased approaches and were significantly concocted in the imaginations of the scholars (ibid.). These studies were in fact part of a long tradition in which very often little substance or archaeological data was utilized in interpreting Canaanite religion (e.g. Albright 1968: 110–152; Cross 1973: 1–75). Further, religion was approached as a static, unchanging entity that could be defined succinctly as representative of the entire Canaanite populace over the nearly eight centuries of the MB and LB. This has been particularly apparent with regards to Ugaritic studies. Ugarit’s many ritual and mythological texts, dating to the latter half of the LB, have often been used to discuss Canaanite religion of the Middle Bronze Age and in the southern Levant. However, it is not at all certain that LB religion at Ugarit represents Canaanite religion in general or that of the earlier MB (cf. Section 2.3.2). Thus, previous studies on Canaanite religion have either been text based, biased, or generally lacking in the integration of archaeological data. Many methodological deficiencies with text-based approaches make them fall short of this study’s aim of defining Bronze Age Canaanite cult. The fundamental issue with textbased approaches is the lack of local and contemporary religious texts or archives; those from Ugarit, for example, are from north Syria in the LB, and the Hebrew bible is a much later text in general. Scholars have also had a proclivity to project pejorative biases on Canaanites, again largely as a byproduct of the field being very much interconnected with biblical scholarship and thus the perspective of the Canaanites as portrayed by the Hebrew bible. Regarding archaeology, there has always been an interest in architecture and finds, but no methodological approach for relating these to a constructive discourse on Canaanite cult was every conducted. More recent studies have focused on religious architecture (Mazar 1992; Kamlah 2012), yet defining architectural types and traditions is not the same as defining religious practice and ideologies. A major difference between this study and most others is that whereas the majority of studies on Canaan have presented the topic in constant relation to Israel (whether as a backdrop to, in contrast to, or as a theological and textual resource for), or as deduced from the Ugaritic texts, this study begins with the everexpanding amounts of information in the archaeological record of the southern Levant (Sections 1.3–1.5). This study does not assume a priori that what is written in texts in a particular region and at one point in time necessarily reflects in every (or any) way other regions either contemporary or non-contemporary. Only after first identifying ritual spaces and the activities that were performed within those spaces can insight be appropriately gained into aspects of the religious ideas, worldviews and other symbolic activities embedded in the minds of the ancients. Thus, with significant developments in the state of archaeology of the southern Levant over the past decades, and with the growing database of published and unpublished material related to MB and LB cultic spaces in Canaan, it seems of great utility to revisit what Canaanite religion was and synthesize the data. Through the unique constellation of aims, research questions, methodology and theory utilized in this book (Sections 1.3–1.4), a number of original insights into Canaanite religion have been arrived at in this research.
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1.3
Chapter 1
Aims and Research Questions
1.3.1 Aims The aim of this study is to arrive at a more holistic understanding of MB and LB religion in the southern Levant. In order to systematically and methodologically achieve this goal, this book is organized into three main parts: (1) where Canaanite cultic activities were conducted; (2) what activities and rituals were performed within Canaanite cultic spaces; and (3) why and how those activities were conducted in those spaces. Each part corresponds with a unique aim, set of research questions, and focus of research: The first aim (1) is to establish definitions and typologies of temple architecture in terms of architectural plans, settlement locations, and relations to surrounding landscapes. The second aim (2) is to identify the most common recurring activities conducted within the cultic spaces identified in the southern Levant. The third aim (3) is to understand the belief systems and organizational schemes that precipitated the activities identified within the cultic spaces. Each of these aims is addressed by a specific set of research questions. 1.3.2 Research Questions The basic research question that will be asked in order to address aim (1) is the following: what were the different types of Canaanite temples? In doing so, seven additional questions will be asked. Where were temples located? What was the relationship between a temple’s location and a temple’s role within the surrounding landscape, whether urban, rural or extramural. Was there change over time in terms of construction method and site location? How many ritual participants could have fit into a given space within temples and temple courtyards at any given time? How does this relate to the temple form, the temple size, and the type and size of settlement within which the temple was located? Overall, how does temple architecture in the southern Levant compare to temple architecture from elsewhere in the ancient Near East (hereafter ANE)? Finally, how does the architecture of Canaanite temples relate to local non-cultic architecture of the region? In order to accomplish aim (2), the primary research question will be the following: what activities were performed within southern Levantine cultic spaces during the MB and LB? Additionally, a number of ancillary questions will be asked in the process. How can different types of activities be detected in the archaeological record, and how can functional and mundane activities be differentiated from cultic or ritualized activities? What were the most frequently attested activities conducted in southern Levantine temples? What factors might have affected the types of activities performed within temples? Can divergent trends in terms of activity types be explained? How does the use of Canaanite cultic spaces compare to trends from other types of southern Levantine structures such as domestic and palatial spaces? How do the types of activities conducted within southern Levantine temples compare to those conducted in temples from the rest of the ANE? In an effort to understand why and how ritual was conducted within Canaanite temples – aim (3) – the guiding research question will be the following: why was ritual activity in southern Levantine cultic spaces affective and meaningful and how was it implemented? Additional fundamental questions related to aim (3) will also be asked. How does ritual relate to social and political structures? In the southern Levant, can elitecontrolled spaces be distinguished from non-elite controlled spaces? If so, how do the types of activities, and quantity and quality of those activities, compare to and contrast from those in non-elite settings. In this effort, how was ritual in the southern Levant used as a mechanism for establishing and maintaining different group identities, social statuses and ritual hierarchy while at the same time emphasizing aspects of communal cohesiveness? How was ritual which emphasized social inequality effective, and what tools did rulers and elites have at their disposal to legitimize their use of cultic spaces to control, restrict and limit the flow and amounts of ritual participants? Further, how was ritual and ritual space organized, structured and administered? Finally, how and why were temples and rituals integrated into urban or natural landscapes? As the aims and questions make clear, this book’s focus is on public cultic architecture. By studying temples and their relationship to settlement history, settlement type, social and political structures, and religious outlooks, this study will identify the role that ritual, and ritual spaces, played within the greater MB and LB southern Levantine society.
Introduction
1.4
21
Methodology
1.4.1 Previous Methodologies Employed in the Archaeology of Cult and Ritual A basic issue that has historically been symptomatic of archaeological studies related to cult and ritual is a lack of explicit methodology. Recent decades have made significant progress in attempts to identify and explain archaeologically-detected religious activities in the past (Renfrew 1985; 1994; Bertemes and Biehl 2001; Insoll 2004; Levy 2006; Barrowclough and Malone 2007; Laneri 2015). Still, much work is needed in the archaeology of religion to develop testable criteria for identifying cultic activity in the archaeological record and an interpretive model for utilizing that information for then investigating the cultural, historical and social context (Gilmour 2000). How do changes noted in Bronze Age Canaanite religion relate to other changes noted in the MB and LB southern Levant? To address this, one must define, even if broadly, what might be considered religious. Even with Renfrew’s landmark study (Renfrew 1985) which posited a methodology for approaching the archaeology of cult, applying the methodology is inevitably a subjective process. Renfrew identified what he perceived to be the most recurrent, universally attested core consistencies within religions cross-culturally. He isolated correlates that correspond to religious activities, dealing with aspects of location, objects, furnishings, iconography and food and drink (Renfrew 1985: 18–20, 25–26). Determining whether or not Renfrew’s correlates reflect a given context is largely controlled by the opinions and interpretations of the excavators and subsequent researchers (e.g. Katz 2009: 121–151). As objective as the study aims to be, it inevitably invites biased readings of the data. As it stands, Renfrew’s methodology, or modified uses of it, serves as the basis for most studies in the archaeology of cult (Ilan 1995; Nakhai 1993; Zevit 2001; Levy 2006). The few studies on Canaanite religion have made ample reference to this methodology (e.g. Katz 2009). Still, it is of utmost necessity to develop a more objective approach to defining and identifying cultic activity, one that can both help in the interpretation of already excavated material (whether published or unpublished) as well as be applied in the field during excavation. 1.4.2 The Use of Low, Middle, and High-Level Theory Methodology and the observation and interpretation of facts are theory laden (Renfrew and Bahn 2008: 498). Assumptions thought to be common sense by archaeologists are actually in fact interpretative leaps based on certain levels of theory (Johnson 2010: xiv–xv, 5–11). Accordingly, different approaches describing scale or levels of theory have referred to low, middle and high-level theories (Fig. 1.2; cf. Trigger 2006; Preucel and Hodder 1996). Low-level theories are empirical, based directly on observations of the archaeological record, and include artifact typologies, chronologies, seriations and spatial distributions. This also includes post-depositional cultural modifications and natural processes which additionally might account for certain transformations or patterns which have been altered in the archaeological record (Preucel and Hodder 1996: 8). Middle-level theories relate the low-level observations of archaeological finds to more general behavioral patterns (e.g. Clarke 1973; Schiffer 1976). These inferences are rooted in a process of analogy, based variously on ethnographic or ethnoarchaeological observations, experimental archaeology, and textual analysis (Binford 1977; Kramer 1979; Gould 1980; Hodder 1982, 2012a). High-level theories more generally aim to integrate behavioral dynamics into broad, explanatory frameworks (Trigger 2006). That is, they try to make sense of the patterns identified in archaeological record and the corresponding behaviors which precipitated those patterns. Various frameworks which deal with human behaviors include ecological, anthropological, geographical and morphological models (Clarke 1973; Preucel and Hodder 1996: 9). In practice, these high-level theories need to be tested carefully and meticulously to see how the data fits into various models. Low- and high-level theories are mediated by middle-level theories (cf. Trigger 2006). 1.4.3 This Study’s Methodology This study stresses the necessity of conducting research inductively (a bottom-up approach), that is, a meticulous data-based analysis which begins with low-level theory – the particularistic traits of the material remains – and moves up through middle and then high-level theories. In this sense, low-level theory will first be utilized to establish the most objective of data – the visible archaeological remains. Then middle-level theory will be utilized in order to reconstruct implicit behaviors which produced the patterns noted in the material remains. Finally, high-level theory will be used to try to explain the patterns noted in the lower levels
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Chapter 1
of analysis. In other words, this study first clearly defines and establishes the dataset (aim 1), then assesses the possible behavioral correlates (aim 2), and then aims to explain those behaviors based on various anthropological and sociological models (aim 3). As such, the methodology that will be implemented follows a three-tiered analysis corresponding to the three aims of this research and will be utilized in three separate sections of the book (Parts II, III and IV, respectively). The first part (Part II) deals with cultic space. Temples and open-air cultic spaces lacking infrastructure serve as the primary foci investigated in this study because they are the most visible locations within which cultic activity was performed. This section can be referred to as “low-level” theory in that it deals with physical space and place, although in order to move beyond previous architectural studies of Canaanite cult, it utilizes theory from phenomenological approaches to understanding the social and material worlds (Tilley 1994; 2005; Ingold 2000), agency-based models emphasizing the active roles played by individuals such as practice theory (Bourdieu 1977; cf. Giddens 1984), and concepts from the archaeology of space and place (e.g. Relph 1976; Tuan 1977; Bradley 2000; Whitridge 2004). These theories will be further elaborated on in Chapter 3. The second part (Part III) of the three-tiered analysis utilizes middle-level theory in order to determine the activities that were performed within those cultic spaces. The methodology employed in this section is largely derived from household archaeology (e.g. Daviau 1993), itself which is based on ethnographic and ethnoarchaeological studies with the aid of textual and iconographic analysis. In order to answer the research questions of aim (2) in Part III of this book, a rubric for identifying activity types based on a contextual analysis of the vessels and objects in temple assemblages has been developed. This specific rubric and the manner in which it will be implemented is elaborated on in Chapter 7 of Part III. In order to achieve aim (3) and address the specific research questions asked in Part IV of this book, the methodology employed in Part IV utilizes high-level theory to explain the reasons for the middle-level theory inferences and behaviors discussed in Part III. Sources used in this part include a combination of text, iconography and theory in ritual studies, feasting and commensality (Section 2.4). The specific texts that will be utilized deal with ritual in one form or another, distancing this study from the use of mythological texts to make assertions regarding archaeological remains of human activities. These texts include those found in or having been sent from the southern Levant; those from sites such as Ugarit, Emar and Alalakh that are contemporary although not local; and those variously from places further afield such as Egypt, Hatti, Mari and Mesopotamia. This study’s approach to the use of these sources and to discerning analogies relevant to southern Levantine behavioral patterns will be further clarified in Chapter 17 of Part IV. The motivation behind this sequence of methodological approaches is to distinguish in as certain of terms as possible what can be considered cultic space and what activities were conducted within those spaces. Determining similar patterns and divergent trends in those activities from one site to the next and over time provides the most logical basis for then exploring higher level theories dealing with why those activities were taking place at all. More detailed specifics of the methodological approaches employed within each part of this book will further be dealt with in the corresponding parts. In this process, two epistemologies are at play which form a dialectic: an analytic epistemology which explains systemic relationships in terms of cause and effect in an objective, positivist and scientific manner (e.g. New Archaeology and processualism); and a hermeneutic epistemology which is particularistic by nature, focusing on the agency of individual actors within a particular society to construct facts and meaning (e.g. post-processualism, hermeneutic archaeology). By presenting all of the data first, this study is able to take both possibilities into account and test what approach fits the specific nuances indicated by the data. At times, certain cross-cultural phenomena might be the best explanation for patterns in the archaeological record, while in other instances, looking into the specific actions and motivations of cognitive and active agents might be the proper approach. Thus, this research approach aims to navigate the dichotomies of space/place and of universalistic/particularistic tendencies in terms of action, ritual and social and religious organization.
1.5
The Novelty of this Book’s Approach
Following this study’s aims, research questions, methodology and organizational scheme (below), a number of unique findings have come to light. The central thesis of this book is that Canaanite religion was remarkably responsive and adaptive and was reflective of the diversity of the various micro-regions in the southern Levant. The heterogeneity seen in Canaanite religion was a result of a multitude of factors, both universalistic
Introduction
23
as well as particularistic. These factors revolve around shifting geopolitical circumstances and various spheres of foreign interactions and influences, the agency of local rulers in urban settings, kinship-based identities and a range of socioeconomic statuses from elites to merchants, traders and travelers, to rural farmers. As stated, temples and the activities which took place within them will serve as the platform for exploring these ideas, for they provide the most visible data related to cult and ritual in the archaeological record. This study will demonstrate that cultic spaces in the southern Levant were responses to different particular circumstances and situations. There was great diversity in what took place inside and outside of southern Levantine temples. The setting and location (e.g. urban/rural/open air/isolated roadside) and the construction type (e.g. monumental, irregular) of temples related to, affected, and were affected by the types of activities being conducted in those spaces. Further, Canaanite temples functioned as the venues within which social cohesion and group unity were forged, whether organically or more forced top-down by elites. This was executed by way of communal events under the pretext of religion, most frequently resorting to utilizing two social mechanisms in particular: conspicuous consumption (feasting/drinking) and gift giving (votive offerings, prestige objects, status symbols). These of course were intertwined with various notions of encountering, beseeching and gaining favor with the deities. Textual data further suggests this may be related to communication with, or caring for, deceased or deified ancestors. Another argument that this book puts forth, and will prove quite definitively, is that in contrast to Mesopotamian, Hittite and Egyptian temples, temples in the southern Levant remarkably do not reflect the concept of the house of the god (compare Hundley 2013: 17–103 to Mazar 1992, Kamlah 2012 and Metzger 2012: 262–321). This statement requires much elaboration and will be given due attention. However, what has arisen from this research is that neither the layout of Canaanite temples nor the activities performed within the temples reflect the layouts or activities of domestic spaces. Courtyard plans and large amounts of storage and cooking ware as well as objects and installations associated with domestic production tend to typify southern Levantine houses in the MB and LB (Wilk and Netting 1984: 5–6 and passim; Ben-Dov 1992; Daviau 1990, 1993; Hardin 2011: 12–22). These do not reflect the trends indicated in most southern Levantine temples. If one were to look at what domestic households did and compared to what temples did, very few parallels would arise. Thus, although it is certainly likely that the southern Levantine populace and elites conceptualized their temples as houses of gods, the physical attributes of these temples differed from those of contemporary ANE cultic spaces. These observations will be thoroughly elaborated on in Parts II and III.
1.6
Organizational Scheme of this Book
Chapter 2 presents an overview of the research, working definitions of important terms used in this study, general overviews of the settlement histories of the MB and LB southern Levant, previous scholarship related to Canaanite cult, and theory that will be used in this book. Part II of this study focuses on cultic architecture and addresses aim (1) of this book. It is composed of four chapters (Chapters 3–6) and will establish the different types of temples, where they were located, changes over time, and how they were integrated into urban, rural and extramural landscapes. Chapter 3 introduces the topic and specific approach taken in the subsequent chapters of Part II. Chapter 4 provides an in-depth study of cultic architecture in the southern Levant, while Chapter 5 focuses on temple courtyards. Chapter 6 offers a synthesis of the data collected and analyzed in Part II. Figs. 1a–c are three maps of the ancient Near East with the sites discussed in this study marked. Part III focuses on activity types and addresses aim (2) of this book. It is broken down into nine chapters (Chapters 7–15). It aims to perform a spatial and contextual analysis of finds from various temples in order to determine the activity types that correlate with the patterns of vessel and object distribution in the archaeological record. The methodology used in Part III is elaborated on in Chapter 7. Chapters 8–12 are case studies, each dedicated to analyzing a specific temple according to the methodology presented in Chapter 7: Hazor Area H, Hazor Area C, the Lachish Fosse Temple, the Tel Mevorakh temple, and Nahariya. In Chapter 13, the methodology is further applied to a number of additional cultic sites from MB and LB contexts. Chapter 14 investigates trends in household assemblages to more precisely identify what is unique in temple assemblages and the associated activities. The final Chapter 15 is a synthesis, discussion and conclusion of the analyses presented in the previous chapters. Part III therefore takes on both low-level and middle-level theories. On the one hand, the data recovered from excavation is presented locus by locus in order to present as detailed a reconstruction of the find spots and the spatial and contextual relationships between the objects
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Chapter 1
found in temples. On the other hand, behavioral patterns are posited based on a close reading of the data from excavation. Part IV addresses aim (3) and deals with Canaanite ritual praxis and religious ideology. It is made up of two chapters. Chapter 16 deals with Canaanite ritual praxis, while Chapter 17 investigates the structure and ideologies of Canaanite religion. Part IV employs a combination of theory, text and iconography to gain insight into thought processes and religious beliefs motivating the behavioral patterns and changes to cultic architecture and activity types noted in the archaeological record. The goal of this last part of the book is to better understand how and why the rituals that were performed within those cultic spaces were performed and how they were effective. Finally, Part IV also aims to discern a sense of how cult and ritual in the southern Levant related to other aspects of MB and LB Canaan.
Chapter 2 Overview of the Research: Working Definitions, Background, and Rationale 2.1
Definitions: Defining the Terms of this Study – “Middle and Late Bronze Canaan” and “Canaanite Religion”
Establishing a working definition for the research topic is important because there has been a tendency to not clearly understand the terms Bronze Age, Canaan, Canaanite, and religion. Thus, this section briefly defines these terms and concepts to make certain and explicit the focus of the following chapters. 2.1.1 Chronology This study focuses on the Middle and Late Bronze Ages (Fig. 2.1). This research uses the tripartite division of the Middle Bronze Age into MB I, II, and III in place of the older MB IIA, IIB and IIC nomenclature (following Ilan 1995: 297, contra Albright’s earlier 20th century nomenclature).1 The subdivisions correspond to the dates 2000/1950–1750/1730 B.C.E., 1750/1730–1650 B.C.E., and 1650–1550/1500 B.C.E., respectively (following Ilan 2003: 332). The period preceding the MB I will be referred to as the Intermediate Bronze Age (cf. Dever 1995; Cohen 2009: 1–2; Covello-Paran 2015: 5–7). For LB chronology, this study follows Panitz-Cohen’s suggested periodization (Panitz-Cohen 2014: 541–542): LB IA (1550–1479 B.C.E.), LB IB (1479–1375 B.C.E.), LB IIA (1375–1300 B.C.E.), LB IIB (1300–1190 B.C.E.), and the final LBIII/Iron IA transition (1190–1140 B.C.E.). 2.1.2 Canaan and Canaanite This study focuses on religion within a region often referred to as Canaan, and of a group, or groups, of people often referred to as Canaanites. Thus, this section will briefly define these terms in order to clarify the geographic scope of this study and to demonstrate that there was significant diversity amongst the Canaanite populace, likely reflected in the heterogeneity of religious architecture and activities in the southern Levant. 2.1.2.1
Canaan
Defining clear Bronze Age boundaries of Canaan has been a contested subject, namely because no text from the Bronze Age states specifically the borders of such a state, or more appropriately, a region. Thus, the work relies heavily on reconstructing and interpolating borders based on a fragmentary dataset from various textual references throughout the ANE. Not all agree whether there was ever a clearly-defined region of Canaan in the MB and LB.2 The boundaries that have been suggested generally range from the Lebanese coast and southern Syria a bit more inland on the north, the Sinai Peninsula bordering with Egypt to the south, the eastern mountains of the Jordan/Rift Valley to the east, and the Mediterranean Sea to the west (cf. Rainey 2006: 34–36). However, rather than defining specific borders, it is more useful to perceive borders as fluid, with significant amounts of connectivity and shared traits in regions moving north into Lebanon and Syria, particularly along the coastal plain and the inland Beqa‘ and Jordan Valleys (Marcus 1998: 205–206). Following Schloen (2001: 201), Canaan can be understood as a region including coastal Syria through Palestine with a cultural continuum of West Semitic peoples bearing shared and overlapping cultural traits. Thus, it might be safer to refer to the region as the southern Levant or the eastern Mediterranean, since these geographic references are without the baggage of terms serving additionally as linguistic, ethnic markers.
1
MB nomenclature has been extensively debated in the past and present (e.g. Dever 1987: 147–51; 1991; 1992; Mazar 1990; Bietak 1991; Ilan 1995: 297–300; Burke 2014: 403–407; Cohen 2014: 451; Bourke 2014: 465; Höflmayer et al. 2016). 2 On various issues in this debate, cf. Lemche 1991: 50; Rainey 1996; Na’aman 1999; and Tammuz 2001: 528–532.
26 2.1.2.2
Chapter 2 Canaanites
Determining who was Canaanite is also particularly difficult. There is no consensus whether the term refers to an ethnic group, a cultural identity, a social status, a caste or profession, or a group with a shared language (Albright 1942: 25; Maisler 1946; Ziffer 1990: 15*, n. 1; Hacket 1997: 408–409; Rainey 1996; Tubb 1998: 13–16).3 In fact, there seems to have been a large amount of diversity within the region (Grabbe 1994: 121). This is reflected in a number of ANE texts from the MB and LB. During the MB, there was an identity somewhere in west Asia already referred to as Canaanite.4 During the LB there was a place known as Canaan in which a mixture of local Canaanites as well as foreigners dwelled, and Canaanites often travelled and lived in foreign cities for a variety of professional, political, economic or other reasons.5 The Canaanites therefore were not a static entity; they were a group, or groups, of people that evolved over time. Thus, bearing the relatively peripheral location and status of the region, it is possible that at the onset of the MB a Canaanite identity began to emerge as a mechanism to differentiate the populace from its surroundings (Tammuz 2001: 532–535) and promote a cohesive Canaanite, or West Semitic, group identity (e.g. Grabbe 1994: 121, and cf. Schloen 2001: 201); as the MB transitioned into the LB, this picture became more diversified. 2.1.3 Religion Centuries of theologians, scholars and untrained enthusiasts have provided a range of definitions for religion, proving it to be a particularly difficult task (Insoll 2004: 6–10).6 One recurring theme consistently invoked when dealing with religion in antiquity is that religion is there, an inseparable and inherent element of ancient societies (Renfrew 1985; 1994; Zevit 2001; Insoll 2004; Laneri 2015: 1). There was often no word for “religion” in ancient languages (Trigger 2003: 409). Religion was an inherent and inseparable piece in the genetic makeup of society, not a separate entity that was then forcibly integrated. In early civilizations prior to the axial age, there was no distinction between the natural and the supernatural world (e.g. Townshend 1979: 28–31; cf. Trigger 2003: 409–413). It was not until the axial age (e.g. Jaspers 1953; Eisenstadt 1986) that humanity perceived a fundamental distinction between social human behaviors and the natural world, and more concrete impenetrable boundaries between the natural and supernatural realms. The southern Levant during the Bronze Age unquestionably was pre-axial in this sense. Thus, one should presume that the southern Levantine populace was imbued with and inseparable from religion (Eliade 1957: 162–213). Zevit defined religion as the varied symbolic expressions of, and appropriate responses to, the deities and powers that groups or communities deliberately affirm as being of unrestricted value to them within their worldview (Zevit 2001: 15). Indeed, most definitions of religion acknowledge some recognition of a higher divine power. The associated organized worship and obedience (e.g. Barrowclough 2007: 45), and the material correlates of those actions are the access point for archaeologists to the study of religion. Many scholars have grappled with the term cult as well, some utilizing it while others opting to avoid the term altogether (e.g. Insoll 2004; Levy 2006: 9; Renfrew 2007). The Latin cultus, from which the term cult is derived, means to “inhabit,” “till” or “worship,” seems to relate to action. Those who utilize the term cult generally agree it is something less than religion (e.g. Barrowclough 2007: 45) and that it is a particular form of religious worship that implies devotion to a particular person or thing (ibid.). In situations where a number of different, but related, behavioral patterns are identified related to settings of worship, understanding cult as different expressions or as different sub-sets of a greater religious belief system can be useful. This study admittedly uses cult and religion interchangeably at times. However, it should be stressed that Canaanite religion is the overarching structure while Canaanite cult might appear in different permutations depending on the particularities of the circumstances. 3
On the etymology of the root k-n-‘, cf. Speiser 1936, Astour 1965; Landsberger 1967; Markoe 2000: 10; and Aubet 2001: 6–13. 4 For references and discussions of MB Canaanites, cf. Zimmern 1891: 137–138; Mendenhall 1962, 1973; Dossin 1973; Gottwald 1979; Durand 1987: 219–220; Lemche 1991: 27–28; Charpin 1992: 3; Na’aman 1994: 398; Tammuz 2001: 505; and Rainey 2015: 31–35. 5 For the LB, cf. Rainey 1963, 1964; Ahituv 1984: 83–85; Lemche 1991: 25–52; Na’aman 1994: 399; Rainey 1996; and Tammuz 2001: 507–517. 6 For a wide range of approaches to religion, cf. Tylor 1871; Frazer 1915; Otto 1923; Durkheim 1965; Geertz 1966; Marx and Engels 2001; and see more recently Renfrew 1994: 48; Bowie 2000: 22; Zevit 2001: 15; Levy 2006: 6–7; Barrowclough 2007: 45; and see also Saliba 1976.
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While cognitive aspects of religion might be inaccessible to archaeologists (cf. Hodder 1990, 1999; Renfrew 1994: 3–5), the dynamic behavioral correlates of religion are more pertinent. These can be referred to in general terms as rituals, and within a religious system, rituals could be viewed as the social processes which give a concrete expression to the notions of the religion (Morley 2007).
2.2
General Overview of the MB and LB Southern Levant
The following provides a brief survey of the settlement histories within which this study’s subject matter was located. This information will be specifically returned to in Part IV, Section 16.2, focusing on the relationship between changes in MB and LB Canaanite society and the changes and diversity in cultic architecture and activities in the region. 2.2.1 MB – Settlement History Settlement and social hierarchy were well established already in the MB I (Ilan 1995: 305–306). The earliest evidence for MB settlement is from the coastal plain, the east-west communication and trade routes along valley systems such as the Jezreel Valley, and the Jordan Valley (Gophna and Beck 1981; Cohen 2002, 2007; Maeir 2010). The earliest settlements seem to predate large-scale construction of monumental architecture or fortifications. The Jordan Valley, specifically, showed significant continuity between the IBA and the MB I. In fact, the resilient rural and small settlement networks in the Jordan and Hula Valleys indicate that the larger urban systems and settlements might have developed secondarily from local causes, that is, urbanization appears to be a byproduct of the natural trajectory of the already established local and regional networks (Falconer 1985; 1994; Greenberg 2002; Cohen 2009; Burke 2014: 403–407). By the end of the MB I, settlement networks were more firmly established in the coastal region along rivers (e.g. Raban 1985; Marcus 1991: 13–14; Cohen 2002), in the Jezreel Valley near mountain passes, in the Jordan and Hula Valleys as gateway sites that functioned as interregional links between the north and south (Hazor, Dan, Pella), and in sparsely settled central highlands near intermontane valley systems that were the major thoroughfares (e.g. Shechem, cf. Dever 1993a). In addition to the core central sites, their rural hinterlands, and sites with more specific focuses such as coastal maritime gateways, there were also specialized sites in the form of fortified fording sites (e.g. En Zurekiyeh, Tel Poleg, cf. Finkelstein 1992), trading centers (e.g. Tel Nami) and isolated shrines (Nahariya, Tell el-Hayyat; cf. Marcus 1998). From the MB I to MB II, there was an increase in total number of sites and in the ratio of smaller sites to larger sites within given regions in the southern Levant. The increase in the number of small-rank sites to large sites indicates the following: stability; more sustainable and established local networks in which large core sites could rely on smaller surrounding sites in the hinterland in order to focus on other types of interactions with other sites and regions (Cohen 2016: 84–85, Fig. 6.8); and a consolidation of political power and the strengthening of settlement systems and networks. This process was paralleled by increased social stratification as well as possible solidification of social and even regional group identities which supported the urban centers and elites within those centers. Section 16.2.1.1 will demonstrate that during the multiple parallel processes of urbanization and settlement development at the onset of the MB, the more complex and larger settlements did not include space for organized religion. The current data indicates that those sites were concerned with defense, controlling access to the settlements, establishing communication and trade routes and constructing monumental civic architecture that indicates social differentiation and wealth. Cultic sites were generally non-urban and isolated. On the other hand, in the MB II, there was a new focus of urban planning: temple architecture became integrated into the elite-controlled sections of the town and accordingly, into political networks with the possibility of cultic significance beyond the local landscape. 2.2.2 LB – Settlement History During the LB the southern Levant experienced political and socioeconomic fracturing and fragmenting. The LB was more diversified than the previous MB and was a less-integrated system of interconnected regions and polities (Panitz-Cohen 2014: 543). There was also an overall decrease in settlements and settlement sizes, and the main concentrations of settlements shifted to the coast and valleys (cf. Gonen 1984, 1992; Bunimovitz 1994, 1995; 2019; Savage and Falconer 2003). A number of small-scale, semi-autonomous hierarchical citystates seem to have been established by the LB IIA Amarna period, although this process of deconstructing
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the MB order was already started in the LB IB, during and after the reign of Thutmose III (Weinstein 1981; Mazar 1990: 232–233; Bietak 1991: 57–62; Redford 2003; and cf. Bietak 1991; Dever 1992; Oren 1997; Panitz-Cohen 2014: 541–542). This was likely a result of multiple factors: a demographic depletion, the Egyptian domination and re-established interest and physical presence in the region, and increased involvement in the international maritime trade networks and commercial endeavors (Killebrew 2005: 97–100). Thus, the region was highly hierarchical in terms of access to resources, control and involvement in trade, the ability to control, maintain and supply military personnel, and the variety of sizes and types of architecture constructed.7 In addition, multiple ethnic groups and foreign populations are attested in the LB, visible in foreign burials (Gonen 1992b), in foreign elements in personal names (Hess 1993; Zadok 1996) and foreign architecture (Oren 1992) and goods (Martin 2011). There were also semi-nomadic, non-urban, or otherwise on-the-fringe-of-society social groups that were present but not integrated into a general Canaanite group identity (e.g. Ḫapiru, Shasu). The impact of international maritime and land-based trade on material goods and modes of expression in the southern Levant cannot be understated. Canaan was well integrated into the trade systems and networks as it functioned as a geographic, economic, cultural and political interface and buffer zone between the core superpowers to the south (Egypt) and north (Hatti) (Leonard 1989; Broodbank 2013). Evidence from the Uluburun shipwreck (Goren 2013: 57) and the general morphology of the transport amphora utilized in the LB indicate the integral role that Canaan played in trade and shipment along the eastern Mediterranean littoral (Grace 1956; Raban 1980: 5–7; Sugerman 2000; Killebrew 2007; Broodbank 2013). It is no surprise that this period is also characterized by significant foreign influences and interactions, the utilization of shared international artistic and cultural koine (Feldman 2006), and the general appearance of large amounts of imported goods, particularly of Cypriot and Mycenaean pottery which are found at virtually all sites cross-regionally, regardless of status or social class. Section 16.2.1.2 will demonstrate that this settlement history had a direct impact on Canaanite cult. Although some of the larger urban temples continued to function in the LB, new temples without any regular or standardized plan appeared on the scene, often established in non-urban settings. Others with clear Egyptian influences also emerged at this time. 2.2.3 Communal Social Structure of the MB and LB As Parts II, III and IV will clarify, cult at the onset of the MB was very communally oriented. This seems to be a reflection of the many elements in MB Canaan that point to communal concerns. Communal aspects of MB society can be seen in burials, urban planning, and even in certain aspects of material culture such as the use of large pithoi. Mortuary practices arguably reflect a society’s social organization and cultural values (Ilan 1995: 132). From a sociological perspective, burials indicate social persona, ranking, and kinship affiliation. At the same time, they reflect cognitive and religious processes which provided the impetus and reasoning for the specific forms of controlled ritual activities.8 Traditionally it has been assumed that those buried in multiple burial, rock-cut, chamber tombs in Canaan were members of the same clan (Astour 1980; Margalit 1980; Parker 1987; De Moor 1990; Hallote 1994; 1995; Schloen 2001). However, there is only limited material-based research to prove this (Baker 2012: 55–56). In the second half of the MB there was a preference for multiple, primary burials, undoubtedly related to the sedentary nature of urban society and the desire for family units to be buried in the same location over an extended period (Maeir 1997: 323; but see recently, Levy and Kletter 2018, for a different burial tradition at the Rishon le-Zion cemetery). Whether real or imagined, the continued use of the same burial space over multiple generations indicates a kinship-based group identity with shared ideologies of descent (Cradic 2017: 221–223). Regarding burial types and patterns, Hallote argued that the population of the southern Levant during the MB was essentially one main cultural group with a uniform material culture that exhibited remarkably well-integrated social patterns (Hallote 1995: 98, 116).
7
See, for example, Ahituv 1978: 105; Bunimovitz 1989, 1994; Gonen 1992a; Finkelstein 1996. Burials indicate there were newly introduced mortuary practices in the MB. However, these appeared alongside the continuity of other traditional burial types. This is suggestive of a scenario that combines old and newer models, indicating a process combining both endogenous and exogenous forces at play (Ilan 1995: 132). This seems to be a good approach to understanding the phenomenon of Syrian temples in the southern Levant.
8
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MB kin-based burials with multiple interments emphasized the group over the individual, and thus a primary concern was to prioritize the community (Parker Pearson 1982; 1984: 61; cf. Hallote 1995: 106). MB urban planning might indicate aspects of kinship-based communities. Only a few sites have exposed MB “neighborhoods”, including Hazor Area C (Yadin et al. 1960: Pl. CCVII), Jericho (Herzog 1997: Figs. 4.11–4.13), Tell Beit Mirsim (e.g. Strata E and D, Albright 1938: Pls. 50, 51), Megiddo (Loud 1948: Figs. 397–400; Kempinski 1989: Plans 4–5) and Tell el-‘Ajjul (Herzog 1997: Fig. 4.9). The layouts of these neighborhoods seem to indicate not only nuclear and extended family-based living spaces but likely closely-related familial or kin-oriented neighborhoods which facilitated close and easy communication and commutability between neighboring residents of the different domestic structures. This would suggest close relationships, familiarity and trust between the intermingled residents and is indicative of real or imagined kinship. In addition, concerns for food and water supplies strengthened a sense of and need for community (Horden and Purcell 2000: 53–54, 77–86). As part of measures taken to maintain water supplies, wells, cisterns, channels and dams were often constructed to increase control over and the amount of readily available, sustainable and usable water for provisioning to humans, livestock and agriculture (Garfinkel et al. 2006). This was true in the MB and LB (Kempinski 1992c), where a number of water cisterns have been identified at MB sites,9 some of which buttressed social status and were controlled by elites (e.g. MB Jerusalem, Reich and Shukron 2004, 2010, 2011; Reich 2011; Maeir 2017). In addition, the MB phenomenon of extremely large storage vessels – pithoi – has variously been related to the general process of urban organization, to needs related to fortifications, to the collection of taxes by local rulers, to communal storage, or as reflective of a period of good economic status, stability, and relative independence (Bahat 1975; Raban 1980: 44–45; Bonfil 1992). The large carrying capacities stress needs of large groups of people, regardless of the particular context within which they were found. Whether used for storing dry foods or liquids or found in private or public contexts, pithoi signify communality. This variously might relate to short-term storage of large quantities of goods for a large group of people (e.g. Kabri pithoi filled with wine ready for serving), or alternatively longer-term storage of goods for a smaller group of people, still communal nonetheless. The importance of the vessel in domestic life was apparently transformed into a necessity for the deceased in MB cult and burial (Bonfil 1992: 31). As the southern Levant experienced fragmentation in the LB, fewer pithoi were attested, excluding Hazor which uniquely remained a walled and urban site. These communal concerns were reflected in religious activities. This can be witnessed in cultic activity utilizing open-air spaces and maṣṣebot, in the urban temples which were surrounded by spacious courtyards for the purpose of hosting larger groups of people, and in changes in certain aspects of material culture, such as in the production, the materials and the gender of figurines, for example. During the LB when the fragmentation of Canaanite society led to many elements of social cohesiveness disappearing, identifiable changes in religious expressions paralleled this lost sense of unity.
2.3
History of Research and Scholarship of Canaanite Religion
Previous studies on Canaanite religion have been plagued by an overreliance on non-indigenous textual traditions, particularly the Ugaritic texts and the Hebrew bible, and a general underemphasis of southern Levantine archaeological remains of cultic activity. Many scholars have aimed their focus on trying to identify specific deities and to characterize holistically Canaanite religion (Pope 1955; Albright 1957; Cross 1962; Albright 1968; Cross 1973; Winter 1987; Nakhai 1993; Handy 1994; Schmidt 1994; Cornelius 1997; de Moor 1997; Hermann 1999; Day 2000; Zevit 2001; Gardner 2002; Smith 2002; Green 2003; Dever 2005; Lipiński 2005; Smith and Pitard 2009; del Olmo Lete 2014). A basic methodological issue with these approaches is that their claims were largely based on reconstructing “Canaanite” religion, mythologies, pantheons, and the like, from two main sets of literary sources, Ugarit and the Hebrew bible, and on later epigraphic sources and late antique literary references. Thus, many of the well-thought out volumes on Canaanite religion tend to be thoroughly researched and well-presented literary exercises, consistently cross-referencing Ugarit, the Hebrew bible, Phoenician sources, and later Greek and Latin traditions in the process of defining a Canaanite religion (e.g. Gray 1965; Cross 1973; Day 2000; Greenstein 2003, 2008).
9
For comparative water technologies, methods and systems utilized by the Minoans on Crete, see Gorokhovich et al. 2011.
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2.3.1 Before Ugarit: Early Approaches to Canaanite Religion At the onset of the development of the fields of sociology, anthropology and comparative religious studies, attempts to better understand the bible and its context were explored. Robertson Smith’s work, predating the discovery of Ugarit and archaeological excavation in Palestine, explored the relationship between the primitive religion of the Semitic peoples (i.e. Canaanites) and the superior and spiritual religion of the Hebrew bible and Christianity. He characterized the early forms of Canaanite and Semitic religion as orgiastic and heathenistic, emphasizing fertility and a fascination with the worship of nature, particularly of trees and stones, and resorting to the use of illicit magical ceremonies (Robertson Smith 1889). The overall tone, however, in its discourse on race and Semitic blood, for example, and the use of contemporary Arabs as analogs for models of primitive forms of living and expressing, epitomizes the highly problematic approach taken by evolutionary and cultural-historical oriented thinkers of his time (Levy 2006: 6–7). The establishment of biblical archaeology further buttressed studies on Canaanite religion, but these studies were always text based, driven by theological and ethical motivations which underpinned the researchers’ own subjectivities. The topic of the Canaanites was consistently addressed, but from the start, and for much of the research on the topic, the Canaanites served as a theoretical model to contrast ancient Israel, that is, pagan, polytheistic, immoral, and more primitive on the evolutionary scheme of religious development (Nakhai 1993: 16–18). In many ways, the Hebrew bible’s biased slant against the idolatrous religion of the Canaanites makes the bible a difficult source to utilize for any methodological, objective, assessment of Canaanite religion. However, western civilization has been compelled through its general Judeo-Christian allegiance to the bible to uphold certain biblical tenets. Macalister, excavating at Gezer, was unable to critically make sense of the archaeology of the site without the use of the bible as a guide for interpretation. Thus, he identified foundation rites involving human sacrifice (Macalister 1912b: 426–427, 431–432) and associated ritual at the High Place with child sacrifice (ibid.: 402, 405–406). Both of these, however, are today understood to typify MB burials in general: the former being intramural burials and the latter being infant burials in jars. Neither must be related to sacrifice and both interpretations were largely informed by the biblical text (ibid.: 404–405). Macalister, echoing general notions of a “primitive” people having comparatively limited and “primitive” mental capabilities, questioned how the complex, well-organized and sophisticated water cistern could have been carried out by local Canaanites. Instead, he was perplexed as to how locals could have planned, designed and executed the waterworks project without the aid of Egyptians or Babylonians. Yet, there was no evidence for foreign involvement at the site at the time (Macalister 1912a: 262). A more appropriate assessment today would be that in fact, the local Canaanite populace was indeed capable of such innovation and could execute large construction projects. At the time, attempts were being made to make sense of the growing, albeit still nascent, amounts of archaeological data. Macalister had found evidence of the “barbarous custom” of the Canaanites (Wood 1916: 42). In Wood’s study, he acknowledged the importance of the two decades or so of archaeological excavations at sites such as Tell el-Hesi, four Shephelah tells, Taanach, Megiddo, Gezer and Beth Shemesh for situating and contextualizing the religion of Canaan. Still, the work remained primarily concerned with texts, grounded in the Hebrew bible with the addition of Amarna letters and Babylonian texts. One early archaeological approach by Cook actually posits a similar thesis to the one presented in the current study: start with the archaeological discussion and then move to the realm of texts – and among those texts, the biblical text should be used only cautiously. Yet, the field of archaeology at the time of Cook’s work was in its infancy, and the texts were mainly Egyptian inscriptions and a limited number of Babylonian and Phoenician/Punic inscriptions (Cook 1908: 1–12). As with the previous archaeologists, very few Canaanite cultic sites had yet to be excavated, and the major textual contributor to discussions on Canaan (the texts from Ugarit) were not yet known. Still, Cook concluded that ancient Israel’s roots should be sought locally in Canaan, with Israel being understood as more developed and evolved than their predecessors (ibid.: 115). This approach contrasted from a strict reading of the biblical text which otherwise had been the traditional approach of his time. These insights were ahead of their time. 2.3.2 Studies on Canaanite Religion Since the Discovery of Ugarit Since the discovery of the first Ugaritic tablets in 1929 (Bordreuil and Pardee 2009: 2), the texts immediately served as a basis for comparative studies with the Hebrew bible and Israelite religion and was viewed as
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Canaanite in every aspect. This can be seen in a long history of relating Ugarit to Canaanite culture at large by scholars of the likes of Albright, Wright, Cassuto, Kaufmann and Cross (see Smith 2001a: 13–128 and the extensive bibliography therein). The attraction of utilizing more concrete claims about the religion of Canaan from multiple textual sources therefore overshadowed archaeological approaches. Often, these studies dealt solely with cosmology and identifying Canaanite deities. The texts from Ugarit have been used primarily to reconstruct posited Canaanite pantheons (e.g. Driver 1956; Gray 1965; Albright 1968; de Moor 1970; del Olmo Lete 2014). In this light, texts from Emar have more recently contributed to the discussion (e.g. Fleming 1992, 2000). As seasoned and influential scholars such as Albright and Wright implicitly demonstrated, there was a general frustration regarding how to interpret the archaeological remains and shed light on the history of the region based on the fragmentary state of the material remains. This was in part caused by a lack of formal, systematic and explicit methodology in the field for interpreting archaeological remains and relating them to general cultural processes at large. Thus, Albright identified the Canaanites as an abominable and inferior people practicing a baseless religion (Albright 1940, 1968; cf. Bright 1972: 116). Strikingly, in addition to being a biblical scholar and Semiticist, Albright was also a leading archaeologist of the southern Levant with significant field experience. Yet, his discourse on the Canaanites made little attempt to integrate the archaeology of the southern Levant to the more distant textual claims (e.g. Albright 1954, 1960, 1968). To critique Albright’s deficient approach using the words of one of his students, “archaeology provides a vantage point that is completely independent of the written texts …” (Pritchard 1965: 323). This being the case, more archaeological data should have been integrated into Albright’s work. Instead of looking at unique trends in southern Levantine archaeology to emphasize the traits of the local culture, Albright concluded that Canaanite religion was of the general type of those from elsewhere in the ANE and the Aegean (Albright 1940: 106) and emphasized its “true polytheistic nature” (ibid.), once again demonstrating his basic concern with the veracity of the bible. Even Wright, one of Albright’s most well-known students, resorted to using textual data as his primary means of interpretation in place of a primarily archaeological approach (Wright 1971: 167). Wright, the theologian and biblical scholar, overshadowed Wright, the archaeologist. Although these tendencies can be seen as apologetics and as responsive to theological trends questioning the historical veracity and composition of the bible, at the end of the day, archaeological evidence came to mean epigraphic discoveries that offered insight into and support of biblical claims (Dever 1980: 10–11).10 The tendency to favor the Ugaritic texts as the primary source for Canaanite religion can still be felt today in scholarship, where Ugarit and Ugaritic literature are often equated unequivocally with Canaan and Canaanite literature, and thus accordingly Ugarit is utilized for analyzing Canaanite ritual and mythology (e.g. del Olmo Lete 1994: 264; 2014: 1–6; Greenstein 1999). Although it is clear that there are many literary, linguistic and thematic similarities between the Ugaritic texts and biblical texts, these shared traditions do not necessitate the bible’s perspective or the Ugaritic perspective on the Canaanites to be accurate or representative of the actual traditions in the MB and LB in the southern Levant (see Smith’s approach, for example in Smith 2001b: 17). There were significant temporal, spatial-geographical and cultural differences between Ugarit in the northern Levant, the southern Levant, and the Iron Age Hebrew bible (del Olmo Lete 1994: 261). Due to the lack of actual MB and LB Canaanite texts discovered in the southern Levant, in no certain terms can scholarship today determine the veracity of a one-to-one relationship between the cultic content of the texts from Ugarit and of Canaanite religion, as practiced, in the southern Levant. What scholars have learned about various aspects of religion from the LB Ugaritic corpus speaks most closely to those practices and traditions at Ugarit and can only broadly, and carefully, be used to shed light on traditions further to the south. Further, no longer are the days of the myth and ritual approach when myth was presumed the spoken part of the acted ritual (Smith 2006: 128–129).11 For the archaeologist seeking meaning and understanding in the behavioral patterns noted in the material remains, this further stresses the need for a sophisticated, testable and non-text-based methodology for identifying ritual and religious activities in the archaeological record.
10
But see changes in Wright’s approach later in his career (Wright 1975; Dever 1980: 9). Only in unique cases are there echoes of both ritual and myth in a particular text (Smith 2006: 129–136). For use of myth and ritual, cf. Gaster 1946, 1977; cf. J.Z. Smith 1978: 208–239; 1989; Versnel 1990: 28–41. 11
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2.3.3 Archaeological Studies on Canaanite Religion: Iconography, Architecture, and Holistic Approaches Even with the growing archaeological data, few comprehensive archaeological studies have been conducted on Canaanite cult. Rather, the trend was to deal with specific aspects of religion. One aspect was to deal with MB and LB iconography. Figurines have received a great deal of attention due to their relationship to cult, the variety of forms, and the possibility to associate these objects with ritual and specific deities (e.g. Negbi 1968, 1976; Seeden 1980, 1982; Badre 1980; Moorey and Fleming 1984; Uziel 2011). More recently, more thorough studies of southern Levantine iconography at large received significant attention by Keel and Uehlinger (1998) and Schroer (2008, 2011), demonstrating local iconography comprised a combination of foreign influences and local innovation. Important to note is that diachronic change is evident in iconographic depictions, concerns and media. Relatedly, Cornelius has focused specifically on the iconography of deities (Cornelius 1994, 2004), presenting a methodology for identifying the gods (Ba‘al and Reshef) and goddesses (Anat, Astarte, Qedeshet and Asherah) depicted on various media. However, it is extremely rare that objects in the southern Levant depict and mention a specific deity, making the implementation of this methodology difficult. Ornan has recently analyzed two metal figurines from Hazor in this manner, providing important insights into their identity and use, grounded in cross-referential textual arguments (Ornan 2011, 2012). In contrast to these studies on iconography-bearing objects, Mettinger emphasized the unique aniconic tradition of Canaanite maṣṣebot, situating the southern Levantine standing stone tradition within the greater geographic and temporal context of the longue durée of the ANE (Mettinger 1995). Another approach has been to focus on cultic architecture. However, these studies have proven to be insufficient for various reasons. The two main types of archaeological data are architecture and objects. However, the two were never connected in any systematic way. Objects were mainly treated from an art historical perspective disassociated from their original contexts and archaeologically recovered texts were the objects most of interest. Texts literally had a story to tell. Even in the works of Albright and Wright in which southern Levantine temples were often cited, this was done so superficially without elaborating on their actual function. Many studies have focused on cultic architecture as a primary means of assessing Canaanite cult (Wright 1944; Seton Williams 1949; Wright 1971a, 1985; Ottosson 1980; Herzog 1980; Mazar 1992; Nakhai 1993: 193–277; Zwickel 1994; Wightman 2007: 144–197; Kamlah 2012; Zuckerman 2012; Hundley 2013). However, these studies rarely explored how the temples were used based on a reading of the archaeological data. For the past two decades, Mazar’s 1992 article has established itself as the essential study for analyzing Canaanite cultic architecture. Mazar categorizes temples into different types: open-air and roofed temples. Within the latter category, he differentiates between monumental symmetrical temples (migdal temples) and small shrines during the MB, and further distinguishes temples with indirect entrances and irregular plans and Egyptian-style temples with raised holy-of-holies in the LB (Mazar 1992). Even with the growing mass of archaeological data related to Canaanite cult, integrating the data has proved challenging. Ilan defined Canaanite religion in universalistic terms, concerned with life, death and nature and intertwined with Canaanite social life (Ilan 1995: 313). Dever perceived Canaanite cult as being primarily concerned with fertility rites that were bound with the agricultural cycle, its produce, and human and animal reproduction (Dever 1987: 169). Much of Keel and Uehlinger’s and Schroer’s works similarly imply that Canaanite religious concerns related to fertility and some form of naturalistic fetishism (Keel and Uehlinger 1998; Schroer 2008, 2011). Ziffer focused on the active role and control that the gods had over the lives and fates of individuals. Each god had its own realm and influence, with patron gods of each city protecting worshippers and leading armies in military campaigns. To appease and gain favor with the gods, Canaanites dedicated shrines to supply meal offerings and luxurious gifts (Ziffer 1990: 79*–80*). Although this last approach was largely text based, Ziffer additionally dealt to some extent with objects and cultic sites, as do Ilan and Dever. Kempinski, dealing with MB Canaan, avoided defining Canaanite religion altogether. Instead, he discussed attributes of Canaanite cult, presenting archaeological features and artifactual objects that were understood as cultic without commenting on what Canaanite cult was (Kempinski 1992a). Any effort to holistically characterize Canaanite religion seems to have been avoided, and no attempt for presenting a methodology for identifying Canaanite religion was made. One other study briefly states that there was a trend toward increased public worship, that Canaanites at times gathered together in large groups, and that Canaanites demonstrated a tendency toward a widespread exchange of religious ideas and beliefs (Golden 2004: 180).
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Again, this contributes little to our understanding of the intricacies of Canaanite religion. Even Nakhai was forced to utilize texts from Ugarit and resorted to the more visible archaeological remains from the northern Levant to shed light on her dataset in the southern Levant (Nakhai 1993: 156–166, 219–222, 237–240, and passim). More recent studies specifically related to the archaeology of Canaanite religion are few (e.g. Nakhai 1993). More frequently, these studies result from specific case studies. Hence, Klenck (2002) and Katz (2009) dealt with aspects of Canaanite cult from the perspective of Tel Haror while Falconer and Fall (2006) dealt with Canaanite cult from the perspective of Tell el-Hayyat. Cult at Hazor has been the focus of a number of studies as well (e.g. Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007; Zuckerman 2007a, 2012). Nahariya (Ben-Dor 1950; Dothan 1956; and recently, Namdar et al. 2018) would be a superb case study for Canaanite cult, but currently the material remains unpublished. One further site, Tel Burna, has an LB cult structure which has been analyzed in a number of preliminary reports and articles (Shai et al. 2015; Greenfield et al. 2017). With its full publication, this building too will shed important light on Canaanite cult. Three recent works – each site-specific case studies conducted on unpublished sites – have taken holistic approaches of integrating temple architecture and the associated finds into the analysis of the practice of cult: dissertations by Ward and Nahshoni, and an MA thesis by Naeh. Naeh’s work on typologizing the miniature vessels and seven-cupped bowls from the MB cultic site of Nahariya has contributed demonstrably to our understanding of Canaanite ritual at an open-air extramural site and has provided archaeologists with a sense of the material remains from the site for the first time (Naeh 2012a; 2012b). Nahshoni’s work on the entire corpus of material from Tel Haror in which she analyzed the distribution of pottery and objects throughout the cultic precinct over time and integrated ritual theory and various approaches to religion into the overall analysis has also proved an important study on Canaanite cult (Nahshoni 2015). This work has further advanced our understanding of cult at Tel Haror, on the one hand, and of the use of the courtyard spaces associated with Canaanite temples, on the other hand. The recent dissertation by Ward has contributed in many ways to our understanding of Canaanite cult as related to migdal temples, in general, with numerous insights into Bronze Age Canaanite religion at large as well (Ward 2016: 374–418). Ward focuses on the different types of cut features (pits) associated with the MB and LB temple sequence at Pella, assessing six different types and functions based on form and content, their distribution variously in internal and external temple spaces, and the diachronic change over time (Ward 2016: 108–156). As cutting pits has been a well-documented activity associated with Canaanite temples (e.g. Fosse Temple), Ward’s functional typology and her observations on cultic behaviors within a temple precinct based on the contents and distribution of those pits are important. The research has also allowed for the first time an assessment of some of the activities associated with the Bronze Age Pella temples.
2.4
Theory
Parts II, III, and IV of this book all utilize theory in one form or another. The following lays out the relevant theory for understanding the activities that were conducted within cultic spaces (aim 2, addressed in Part III) and for explaining why and how ritual functioned within Canaanite temples and society at large (aim 3, addressed in Part IV). Since the major activities this book encounters revolve around ritual, feasting, commensality, and sacrifice, theory related to these activities will accordingly be dealt with in this section. The immense contributions of the fields of anthropology and sociology and of functionalist, processual (New Archaeology), structuralist (and post-structuralist), Marxist, semiotic, post-processual and performance theories, to list a few, will become evident in the following analysis. These theories will specifically be revisited in Chapter 16, Section 16.4, which investigates Canaanite ritual praxis based on the findings of Parts II and III, and the theory presented below. 2.4.1 Ritual A primary concern of this book is understanding the function of various ritualized activities within cultic contexts. The concept of ritual has been one of the most explored topics within religion, yet there is no consensus concerning how to define exactly what it is or what it does (Susnow 2013). Most studies have focused on the function of ritual (cf. Bell 1992). Posited definitions often have included such terms and concepts as “formalized behavior”, “patterned activity”, “controlled movements and settings”, “time-structured”, “performative”, “symbolic”, “communicative”, “socially sanctioned”, and “culturally constructed”
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(e.g. Firth 1961; Rappaport 1999; Tambiah 1979; Renfrew 2007). Many definitions often refrain from specifying whether or not communication with the supernatural is a necessity (Bell 1992: 159). A major issue in any of these approaches is that they inevitably make overarching generalizations that cannot, by definition, be cross-cultural phenomena, although might be true to particular cultures in various permutations. Thus, the diverse personal situations within which thinkers such as Durkheim (1965), Geertz (1966) and Marx (Marx and Engels 2001) were imbedded certainly played a role in producing such diverse approaches to ritual and religion. Of interest to archaeologists is the fact that ritual is something that is performed, providing a possibility for leaving behind material traces. It is therefore important to understand potential causes for the rituals that are detected in the archaeological record. From a Marxist perspective, ritual legitimizes social inequality, acting as a mechanism by which hierarchy can be constructed (e.g. Bloch 1977). An ecological-anthropological perspective stresses that within any given society, ritual functions as a primary means by which that society attempts to maintain homeostasis with its local environment (e.g. Rappaport 1979: 176, 179). Other processual and functionalist approaches view ritual as a byproduct of social complexity, essentially a groupspecific mechanism by which a particular society responds to and solves problems, addresses contradictions, alleviates various forms of stress, and even promotes adaptation (e.g. Paynter 1989: 374–375; Malone et al. 2007: 1). Some have seen ritual as constructed as a response to new situations hitherto unknown within the society (e.g. Bettinger 1991: 207). Ritual further has been understood as a mechanism which creates and maintains social cohesion (e.g. Durkheim 1965). Bourdieu’s notion of habitus has proved very informative: ritual is essentially a social strategy that both integrates as well as differentiates the social world (Bourdieu 1977). In this sense, the use of specific symbols well known to the ritual participants signals to the social group something socially familiar and at the same time signals that something about the context is different or special. From a social perspective, there is a relationship between ritual and the transformation of inherent structures within society, and similarly to the formation of hierarchies, inequality and social differentiation (Aldenderfer 1993). In more developed and complex societies, there might be a direct relationship between changes in political structure or order and ritual transformation. Thus, the question can be asked: how was ritual utilized as a tool within the particular religious system in the process of establishing, constructing, and maintaining political and social order? For ritual in MB and LB Canaan, for example, differentiation in types and forms of ritual in various spaces could be explored in this manner. For example, was ritual a tool of the elites? If so, how can that be determined, and how might those forms of ritual differentiate themselves from ritual conducted in contemporary, but less hierarchical settings such as in rural sites? One unique approach has been to examine the dynamic process and transformations that are conducted during ritual, referred to as ritualization (Gluckman 1962: 20, 25–26; Bell 1992: 74, 92). A major contribution of Bell’s was to place the focus on ritualization, which emphasizes the ability to differentiate. Rituals gain their significance and meaning through the differentiation of actions in such a manner that those particular actions are understood as being different than and privileged over other more mundane ones (Bell 1992: 89– 92). Still, the researcher is left with a relative instead of absolute definition, that is, ritualization is something that can be identified through differentiation; it is not something that can simply be identified. Rather than focus on the dynamism of the ritual process, another approach has been to understand ritual as a response mechanism and to identify the situations and circumstances which elicit ritual activity. The question would therefore focus less on the anatomy of the ritual itself and more on distinguishing what types of situations call for subsequent ritual activity (e.g. Modéus 2005). As a social focusing device, one facet of ritual must be its relationship to the situation from which it arose. In defining six different categories of situations or “causae” Modéus demonstrates that certain rituals were utilized to strengthen group identity and to create stability, group cohesion and familiarity (those related to the cycles of nature, life cycles, and constitutive situations) while others were performed in order to intervene and address matters of change and transformation (e.g. restitutive matters, crises, and initiations) (Modéus 2005: 39–56). As such, these insights problematize any archaeological approach that aims to deal with how to detect and interpret ritual in the archaeological record. Ritual is not a singular activity with clear explanation nor can one easily determine, without the aid of informants or texts, the potential category of ritual or reason for performing that ritual. Accordingly, one would expect great diversity within the ritual activities and the related material remains of those actions since different types of settings and situations would elicit the performance of different types of rituals.
Overview of the Research: Working Definitions, Background, and Rationale
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In terms of power relations and the use of ritual within groups displaying social differentiation, ritual also functions as a legitimizing device (Bell 1992: 193–196). This is particularly visible when certain groups, such as elites, use ritual and symbols for their own benefit, or reinterpret symbols and rites to profit themselves (Modéus 2005: 297–298). Rituals and symbols function as tools for legitimization and act as conduits for ensuring the validity of particular rites or actions. They do so by exhibiting attributes of formalism, traditionalism, disciplined invariance, rule-governance, sacral symbolism and performance (Bell 1997: 138– 169; cf. Modéus 2005: 295–297, and Verhoeven 2011: 117–118 for an overview). Ritual, symbols and associated objects often display significant traditionalism. In Mesoamerica, ethnohistoric and ethnographic data emphasize a conservatism and resistance against change demonstrated in ritual and religion. There were extreme measures to maintain and preserve tradition and a sense of anachronism. Yet, change was also attested over time as a response to sociopolitical evolution (Marcus and Flannery 1994: 56). Zuckerman similarly explored the concept of traditionalism within Canaanite cult at Hazor (Zuckerman 2007a, 2007b). Depending on the nature of the cohesiveness of the group, there is an inherent tension between and frequent struggles noted in the rites and symbols used by a particular group. Symbols are neither uniform nor well-defined cross-culturally, but rather relate directly to the cultural system utilizing them. They reflect aspects of human behavior and taking a cognitive archaeological approach, they might offer access into the ancient mind (Renfrew 1994: 6).12 Like ritual itself, symbols are multi-faceted and eclectic, and might refer to material objects, to immaterial words, to iconographic representations or to movements and gestures. Symbols may also reference cosmology, promulgate ideology or establish historical claims and stand in relationship with a particular dogma, idea, sentiment or expression, while they also mirror cultural codes and shared values within a given society or group (Modéus 2005: 67). Thus, within ritual contexts, symbols are multifunctional: they act as triggers to aid in defining and identifying what the ritual is, where the ritual stands within the ritual system, and what the specific situation was which required performing the ritual; they function to ensure the validity and legitimacy of the ritual itself in a culturally-accepted manner; and they mark the ritual as something different and out of the ordinary (ibid.: 70–77). Still, to assume the extent to which the participants are aware of the symbolic meaning of those symbols (e.g. Lewis 1980: 6–38), or that participants are consciously paying attention to those meanings in place of focusing on the rules of ritual (e.g. Staal 1975: 3–4) is questionable (Bell 1992: 30–46). Archaeologists must therefore keep in mind that it might possibly be inaccurate to identify objects as symbols, to then attempt to interpret the meaning imbedded within those symbols, and then to suggest that those who used and viewed those objects all actively were cognitively aware of and understood something symbolic and meaningful within those objects and symbols. 2.4.2 Sacrifice One particular facet of ancient religions and ritual that appears nearly universal is sacrifice. Sacrifice, the etymology of which is believed to be derived from the Latin sacer,“sacred,” and facere, “to make,” in other words “to make sacred” (Schwartz 2012: 1), is well attested in textual sources cross-culturally, such as in Mesopotamia and Hatti, but also well beyond the ancient Near East (Oppenheim 1977: 191; Abusch 2002; Lambert 1993; Leichty 1993; Trigger 2003: 472–485; Collins 2007: 164–169,180–189). Sacrifice is more generally a sub-type of offering, which additionally includes organic things such as produce or libations (Pongratz-Leisten 2012: 291) as well as material goods, particularly those of prestige and value. The problem with animal sacrifice, in general, is it is notoriously difficult to identify in the archaeological record. Drawing a clear distinction between sacrificial offerings destined for the gods versus slaughtered animals consumed by humans is difficult, if at all possible. Still, it has traditionally been emphasized that the major ritual performed within Canaanite temples was sacrifice. In fact, in Nakhai’s study, sacrifice was featured as the primary point of discussion and engagement with the topic of archaeological approaches to religion (Nakhai 1993: 59–86). Many different explanations have been posited for sacrifice (Schwartz 2012: 3–4). Sociological approaches have defined sacrifice as the essential ritual and religious act (Frazer 1915), as a group adhesive which kept the gods alive (Durkheim 1965), as an act of gift giving to the deities (e.g. Tylor 1871; van Baal 1976), as the vehicle for the ensuing communal meal (Robertson Smith 1889), and as a means of communi12
Renfrew posited six different categories in which they might function (design, planning, measurement, social relations, the supernatural, and representation) and demonstrates how detecting the use of symbols in a variety of ways and forms could in fact offer access to “the ancient mind” through a cognitive archaeological approach (Renfrew 1994: 6).
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cation between the sacred and the profane in which the donor relinquishes something that is of value to himself (Hubert and Mauss 1964: 100). Others focused on murder from various angles (Freud 1919: 165– 241, especially 219–321 and 234–241; Girard 1977; Burkert 1983: 1–48; Bell 1997: 13–15). Yet, others such as J.Z. Smith, have pointed out that animal sacrifice was universally the sacrifice of domesticated animals by agrarian or pastoralist societies (Smith 1987). In other words, societies tended to focus sacrifice on domesticated animals, highlighting the close association between the sacrifice and the lifestyles of the donor (c.f. Hubert and Mauss 1964: 52). This last point was clearly the case in the Levant, where sheep, goat and cattle – the most common domestic species of the period – are consistently the most common offerings in texts from Ugarit and Emar (Pardee 2002: 224–226; Fleming 1992: 135, n. 214; Sallaberger 2012: 162–163). Although the identification of sacrifice in the archaeological record is difficult, the most commonly found bones which have been identified and analyzed within cultic sites accord with this trend (Horwitz and Raphael 1995: 301; Horwitz 1999: 64–68; Klenck 2002: 44–51, Table 3.6, 3.7; Falconer and Fall 2006: 80–81, 104–105, Tables 5.3; 6.46; LevTov and McGeough 2007; Hesse, Wapnish and Greer 2012: 222–225; Chahoud 2015). Studies have not only focused on the location of these sacrifices, but also on the subsequent communal meal (Bergquist 1993: 25– 37; Marom and Zuckerman 2012). Sacrifice of domesticated animals appears to be a cross-cultural phenomenon (cf. Bloch 1992). From a textual perspective, Smith has argued that only domestic animals were presented as sacrificial offerings in the ritual texts from Ugarit; indeed, non-domesticated animals are nearly absent from the official sacrificial cult.13 On the other hand, non-domestic animals of hunt do appear in the mythic Ba‘al cycle, where following Ba‘al’s death, ‘Anat makes sacrificial offerings which include both domestic animals and non-domestic deer (aylm) and mountain goats (y‘lm) (KTU 1.6 I:24–29).14 This suggests that the slaughter or sacrifice of nondomestic animals was a known phenomenon at Ugarit as well, and might have served the popular cult on the familial, non-royal, level (Smith 2007: 13–18; Smith 1997: 151–152). Through the performance of sacrifice, social hierarchy is emphasized. For example, social differentiation is indicated through the distinction between who is allowed to sacrifice and which individuals, classes or genders are excluded from sacrifice or access to sacrificial locations, or through the existence of a hierarchy of cultic personnel. Social stratification may further be indicated by the various sacrificial animals that are offered, in terms of the species of animal sacrificed, the quantity being sacrificed, and body portion preference (Crabtree 1990; Zeder 1991; Grant 2002; Redding 2010; Greenfield 2014). Thus, animals of higher value that were sacrificed might indicate that the donor could afford to yield a higher-valued offering (Schwartz 2012: 8–9). These social factors played a critical role in the interpretation of the rich and diverse bone assemblage from the LB Building 7050 in Area A at Hazor (Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007). The texts from Emar clearly emphasize such social stratification. A major problem inhibiting more extensive studies on the faunal remains within cultic settings is archaeology’s long tradition of ignoring and not recording ecofacts. Even when bones were kept, identifying sacrificed animals and differentiating them from secular consumption in the archaeological record is difficult. Thus, it is often the context within which the bones are found, that is, the surrounding objects and buildings and how those are defined, that help to determine whether the bones can be considered part of a cultic assemblage. Rather than conducting a highly speculative study based on the possibility of sacrifice, this book assumes that sacrifice was conducted in cultic contexts but reframes from engaging the topic. 2.4.3 Feasting and Commensality Two more topics – feasting and commensality – relate to the types of interactions that individuals partook in during communal meals and the associated social, political and religious implications of acts of consumption. Much of what follows is informed by agency-based models of how to grapple with the notion that there is constant interaction and social negotiation and renegotiation between individuals and institutions.
13
There are in fact a few examples of non-domestic animals sacrificed in the Ugaritic ritual texts: 85 birds making up ca. 5% of the animals sacrificed, as well as two mentions of donkeys, although the latter were likely domestic in fact (Pardee 2002: 224–225). 14 This list additionally includes donkeys (hmrm) which were likely domestic but a pack animal rather than livestock.
Overview of the Research: Working Definitions, Background, and Rationale 2.4.3.1
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Feasting
One platform within which social practices are maintained, transformed, controlled and manipulated are feasts (Dietler and Hayden 2001; Altmann and Fu 2014). The norms and interactions within feast settings are dictated first and foremost through that culture’s habitus and all of the learned behavioral and cognitive norms naturally developed through constant interaction between individuals within the same family and larger social group (Bourdieu 1977). Feasts therefore undoubtedly reflect local customs. However, feasts are also platforms for manipulating and controlling norms, and thus those favored individuals who control the rules and provide the space for the feasts can stay loyal to or stray from and construct new social values for promoting a particular aspect of social cohesion or promoting their own status within the hierarchy of society. These activities, on the one hand inclusive, became more exclusionary as societies became more complex. Further, it has been suggested that feasting was more open and accessible to larger segments of the community in less complex societies. In more hierarchical societies, feasts tend to be activities that are restricted with limited accessibility for privileged groups and individuals (Dietler 1996: 110–111), sometimes with the introduction and use of new vessel types (Sherratt 1997: 403–430). The role feasting played in MB and LB Canaan therefore must not be overlooked (see also Maeir 2015). 2.4.3.2
Commensality
Commensality refers to that which occurs when people gather together for the purpose of eating and drinking. Along with consumption come a number of social and political elements, some of which have been already observed in previous scholars’ approaches to ritual and sacrifice. The social cues learned from one’s social and cultural environments create a system of intuitively understood and embedded habits and thus create a sense of social adhesion. On the household level these recurring, routine experiences are not only quotidian activities, but they are also significant in forging group identity (Pollock 2012: 1–4). Larger scale gatherings involving communal meals function in the same way but additionally serve other purposes. In these large commensal meals, those in control dictate who has access to participate, who provides the provisions, and where and under what circumstances such meals take place (ibid.: 5–13). During these large-scale meals, intermingling and the sharing and spreading of ideas take place. It is possible these were the settings in which the spread and sharing of traditions, ideas, and mythological motifs which formed cultural koine during the Bronze and Iron Ages occurred (Lopez-Ruiz 2010: 32, 179). In political and social terms, these settings further act in a manner which promotes competitive displays of prestige. As such, spaces within which feasts are held often are used for displaying, and have remains of, objects of wealth (e.g. Zuckerman 2007a). Whether in cultic or non-cultic settings, the acquisition and subsequent display of luxury goods promotes social hierarchy. It also serves indirectly as a means for promoting that which was considered to be luxurious in the eyes of the hosts of the feasts. Thus, individuals participating in hierarchic communal meals are exposed to and influenced by what the hosts decide is worthy of display. This could also work in the other direction. Hosts can choose to avoid including objects not deemed local. Thus, instead of favoring imports or precious objects, other items that might reflect the ideology of the hosts or local elite could be showcased (again, cf. Hazor Area A). 2.4.3.3
Applying these Approaches to Archaeological Data
The role of feasting in Mycenaean society has been given much attention, with a focus on economic, social and religious terms (Wright 2004; Bendall 2004; Halstead and Isaakidou 2004; Nakassis 2012). In a southern Levantine palatial setting, the role of feasting has been the focus of important research at the MB palace at Tel Kabri (Yasur-Landau et al. 2011; Yasur-Landau et al. 2018). The LB settlement of Tall Bazi was well excavated with contemporary domestic and cultic contexts, both with evidence of communal consumption and commensality. Across the urban landscape, there was significant overlap between mundane daily practices and ritual practices evident in the site’s houses and temple, respectively (Otto 2012). The major differences between commensal practices during large events at the temple and those in the houses related to what was consumed, how the food was prepared, who prepared the food, and who partook in the consumption (ibid.: 186–190), as well as a significantly heightened scale of activity in the temple. The study also identified strict culinary rules which led to a more limited and restricted repertoire of food consumed in the temple than in domestic spaces (cf. Sallaberger 2012). Further, in contrast to the large quantities of vessels related to consumption recovered from the temple, very few vessels related
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to food and drink preparation indicate these activities were conducted elsewhere and were not the primary concern of the temple. Emphasis was placed on commensality and on presenting dedicatory offerings (Otto 2012: 186–190). As the activities administered by Tall Bazi’s temple reflected domestic activities, commensality aided in forging a group identity that included participation in communal festivals and the associated consumption and presentation of culturally-defined and identifiable offerings. In this book, the notion of feasting and commensality will be considered first and foremost as a potential aspect of Canaanite ritual activity. Further, these concepts, heuristic in nature, will provide a unique approach for exploring how communal ritual in public spaces might have functioned, and the utility of conducting, sponsoring, participating in or otherwise observing these communal events. This approach therefore can be used to better understand an essential point of contact between community members from different socioeconomic spheres, from elites to cultic personnel to the general populace, and can help differentiate between elite-controlled spaces and neighborhood shrines (e.g. Hazor Area C); of course, all of this within the context of some form of controlled environment revolving around deity worship.
Part II Cultic Architecture in the Southern Levant
Chapter 3 Towards a New Direction in Analyzing Canaanite Cultic Architecture Part II will focus specifically on aim (1), where Canaanite cultic activities were conducted. In order to accomplish the aim, the research questions specified in Section 1.3 will be asked. Essentially these are the following: what were the different types of Canaanite temples; where were they located; how did temples relate to their surroundings; how and why did architecture types change over time; how did the populace interact with and experience the cultic spaces; and how does southern Levantine temple architecture relate to non-cultic architectural traditions from the region and to other ANE religious architecture? Thus, Part II deals with one of the more palpable aspects of religion: cultic architecture. As a concept, religion exists in a somewhat abstract world that in many ways eschews tangibility. Yet, religion as practiced occurs in places, in real space that is designated from the profane through various means.
3.1
What are Temples?
Temples, shrines or sanctuaries are terms that are often used to describe demarcated spaces that have specific sacredness attached to them. In broad terms, temples were buildings or spaces with public function that were connected to the cultic sphere (Bietak 2003b: 155). In the ANE in general, temples were conceptualized as houses of gods (e.g. Trigger 1990: 121). First and foremost, this is evident philologically. There is a long tradition of referring to temples as “houses.” In Sumerian, É was the term for “house.” Temples were referred to as É.MAḪ and É.KUR, the “exalted house,” or “mountain house,” respectively. Akkadian continued this tradition, where the logogram É.DINGIR or Akkadian bīt ilim/ili similarly referred to a temple as a “house” of a “deity,” where DINGIR and ilim mean “deity” and bīt is the construct form of bītum, “house” (Roaf 1995: 425) . Similarly, Ugaritic b(y)t and Hebrew bayit literally mean “house,” but often refer to temples as well, sometimes but not always qualified by the name of a deity following the noun, “house”. The case is the same in other West Semitic cognate languages, such as Phoenician, Punic and Aramaic (e.g. HALOT: 1194; Halayqa 2008: 117–118; DULAT, 243, 246–247). Thus, temples could be viewed as special locations where some aspect or presence of the divinity was located. The Sumerian term in particular has topographical connotations, suggesting these structures were raised and higher than their surroundings. Temples were therefore earthly dwellings in which cultic activities were performed and which were imbued with cosmic symbolism (Ragavan 2013). Temples of all sizes, forms and locations were constructed to provide regular and regulated access points to the deities (Hundley 2015: 204). Whereas temples were designated as public sacred buildings, terms such as shrines, sanctuaries and cultic spaces generally refer to structures of less monumental form (Kamlah 2012: 507). It was in these spaces that culturally specific cultic activities were performed (cf. Part III). Therefore, a significant amount of information about religion can be extracted from the physical remains of the spaces in which ancient practitioners once navigated. Identifying whether or not a particular structure actually functioned as a locus of cultic activity has been notoriously difficult and problematic. This of course depends on a number of factors, including the layout of the structure, the internal furnishings, and the objects and finds from within. There has been a long history of archaeologists mislabeling secular structures as temples, often when they find no other obvious or suitable function (e.g. Bliss and Macalister 1902: 31–34, Fig. 9; Albright 1938: 64–65; cf. Yeivin 1973). Further issues are bound to amass when one considers the fact that cultic activity often occurred in open-air settings outside of any constructed edifice. In order to address these issues, many attempts have been made to create an objective rubric for such identifications, most explicitly by Renfrew (1985) and specifically related to research in the southern Levant by scholars such as Zwickel (1994: 8–16), Levy (2006) and Katz (2009).
3.2
The Study of Cultic Architecture
A number of studies have discussed cultic architecture in Canaan, focusing on the various architectural traditions, their origins, and their introduction to or first appearance in the southern Levant. The following chapters in Part II will build off of these previous studies which undoubtedly provide a sufficient basis for understanding various static and dynamic attributes of temple architecture (see below). However, these pre-
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vious studies have not given appropriate attention to how cultic infrastructure and its location within or outside of cities affect the religious experience of ritual participants. Additionally, little focus has been placed on temple courtyards as important communal focal points of worship (i.e. Ottosson 1980: 117); these courtyards were points of intersection between the profane and the sacred, and they should be explored as such. While the temple was intended to be the official cultic locus for communicating between the deity and the community, operations within open areas in the courtyard spaces aimed at creating a more direct relationship between the participants and the deity (Marchetti and Nigro 1997: 35–36). The studies reviewed below ignore this. 3.2.1 Previous Studies on Temples in MB and LB Canaan Previous studies in Canaanite religious architecture have generally aimed at providing evolutionary explanations for the origins, development, and diversity of Canaanite temples. They emphasized temple form and temples as houses of the deities, largely focusing only on the temple interiors while ignoring courtyards and temple locations.15 Early studies were quite limited in their dataset since few Canaanite temples had yet to be exposed; they often had a tendency to connect the development and evolution of southern Levantine temple architecture to influences from Mesopotamia and Egypt (Wright 1944; Seton Williams 1949: 77–83). Ingeniously and with comparatively little data to investigate, Wright made two observations that are important to this current study: he stressed that the geography of the southern Levant created accentuated local differences in the appearance and practice of cult (Wright 1944: 68–70); and he did not believe that the ancients perceived their gods as being strictly confined to structures. Rather, temples were a symbolic microcosm of the deity’s world (ibid.: 66–67). Since the 1980s, studies have especially focused on categorizing architecture types. To date, Mazar’s article stands as an essential study that utilized all the up-to-date data of the time (the past two decades have shed light on significant data that was not available at the time) and has distinguished useful architectural typologies that can still be used today (Mazar 1992). The study makes a distinction between open-air cult sites and roofed temples, and between monumental temples and small shrines in the MB. The monumental migdal temples were both urban and rural phenomena, were introduced into Canaan during the second half of the MB, continued to be utilized through the LB at a few sites, and were limited to a few regions – the Jordan Valley (four sites), Jezreel Valley (one site), the central highlands (one site), and the Negev (one site). No monumental temple was constructed along the coast. The prototype of this monumental architectural type has been shown to have derived from Syria to the north (Fig. 3.1; see Mazar 1992: 161–169). The early MB I example of this temple type at the site of Tell el-Hayyat has somewhat amended our understanding of the “origins” of this temple form and of the “first appearance” of this temple type in the southern Levant. Other scholars such Nakhai (2001), Kempinski (1992a), Wright (1985) and Kamlah (2012) have similarly followed suit in their approach to analyzing temple architecture. Mazar, along with others, is inclined to view the temples with broad-room layouts as a local variation with an indigenous broad-room layout having its origins in Canaan itself. Temples with broad-room cellas, which contrast from the more popular long-room layouts, were originally established as early as the Chalcolithic at Ein Gedi (Aharoni 1958; Gonen 1992c; Ussishkin 2014). Continuity of this broad-room type in the EB can be seen at sites such as Arad (Amiran et al. 1978; cf. Ben-Tor 1992: 101)16 and Megiddo (Finkelstein et al.: 2006: 48–52; Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 169–174; Loud 1948: 73–84). In addition to the monumental MB temples, smaller local shrines were established at a number of sites. For the LB, Mazar attempts to categorize new temple types into two loosely-defined categories, temples with raised holy-of-holies (Fig. 3.2) and temples with indirect entrances and irregular plans (Fig. 3.3). These categories, however, are somewhat misleading: temples with raised cellas (e.g. the Lachish Acropolis temple) could easily be classified as irregular in shape while placing a large group of temples into the latter category might be overlooking important distinctions or other shared traits of those temples. Kempinski’s study was quite similar to Mazar’s with one important caveat: Kempinski argued that the early open-air nature of Canaanite cult had its roots in the Intermediate Bronze Age (Kempinski (1992a). These early sites were sometimes associated with what archaeologists have suggested are bammot (some
15 16
Refer to Zwickel 1999 and Mierse 2012 for studies on and issues with identifying and analyzing Iron Age temples. For arguments contra a temple identification, see Aharoni 1982: 65; Mazar 1990: 126; and Herzog 1997: 62.
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form of high place) and other related small-scale structures. This is an important observation. As such, Chapter 4’s analysis of cultic architecture begins in the IBA. Wright (1985) argued that more often than not, temples did not follow clear preconceived prototypes. The standardized form of the migdal temples was the exception. Thus, there was a wide variety of designs utilized throughout Canaan for cultic architecture, which he too developed into a variety of overarching categories. Therefore, he categorizes temples according to size, layout of the cella, location of the entrance, partitioning of the interior (or lack thereof), and overall symmetry (or asymmetry) of the temple complex. Wright’s observation that there was significant diversity in Canaanite temple architecture is significant. Wright and others have further viewed temples as the domestic spaces of deities, the house within which the godhead resided. Thus, the earlier temples often had broad-room layouts and often opened into courtyards, features typifying Canaanite houses of the time (Herzog 1980). For Wright, the courtyards outside of the temples in the MB and later were areas that represented vestiges of the past, echoing the various activities and services that were performed in the earlier village house and compound temples (Wright 1985: 225–227). These last points are of central importance to this book. Although conceptually temples might have been conceived of as houses of the deities, I disagree with the central tenets of the argument that Canaanite temples were structured after houses. MB and LB temple architecture does not resemble domestic architecture (cf. Section 6.1). Therefore, a core argument of Wright’s and most other scholars who have referred to temples as functioning as a house of the god is misleading. On the other hand, Wright’s insight into temple courtyards reflecting earlier and more ancient cultic spaces for performing ritual is useful. Although he does not further explore the implications of this, the notion that the temple courtyards were spaces within which large quantities of ritual participants actively moved and performed ritual – less restricted than the temple interior – and that these practices could be linked to more indigenous communal activities having deep roots in the southern Levant (in contrast to large temple edifices and cult images within them) will be a major focus of the ensuing study. Two more recent studies on cultic architecture that have proven useful for this book were conducted by Nakhai (2001) and Kamlah (2012). Nakhai uses anthropological and sociological insights to explain the observations that there was variation within Canaanite religious architecture. The development of various cultic traditions was a result of different kin-based groups that existed both in urban settlements and in the rural countryside. These kin-based groups existed throughout Canaanite society and identified not only with their local tribal affiliates but would have similarly expressed shared cultural traits and belief systems with their kin in further away settlements (cf. Joffe 1993: 85, Bunimovitz 1993: 1–2). Thus, she sees in the many neighborhoods in large sites such as Ebla and Hazor different sanctuaries, sometimes of different architectural traditions, reflecting various kin-based groups with different beliefs and cultic needs residing side-by-side within Canaan (Nakhai 2001: 112). By the end of the MB, the establishment of large elite-controlled temples signifies a shift away from this model of a primarily kin-based network. New orders of authority consolidated power and pushed their own agendas on the populace visible in the form of a standardized religious architecture. In essence, rulers who consolidated power made immense religious reforms that resulted in increased exclusivity of worship (ibid.: 113). Nakhai’s kin-based approach is important. The MB in particular was heavily focused on community and communal identity (Section 2.2.3). However, arguments based on kinship and tribal affiliations alone cannot account for the shifting MB religious landscape. Further, when looking at the LB, it seems Nakhai’s core arguments cannot account for the dynamic diversity in temple forms, a period in which old temples continue in use, new temples arise (some of which show foreign – e.g. Egyptian – influence and even physical presence), and the total number of temples increases with a general shift away from the coast. It appears that kinbased groups had a role in the early Canaanite cultic landscape but with time became overshadowed by an amalgamation of competing factors which shaped Canaan’s religious diversity. Most recently, Kamlah (2012) has further shed light on the plethora of Levantine temples and templetypes by discussing them in terms of location and longevity. Three main locations existed – intramural settlement sanctuaries, extramural settlement sanctuaries, and extramural (non-settlement) sanctuaries. Although never made explicit, it would seem that the location was important in the form of temple and rituals practiced at the site. Kamlah also points out that characteristically, sacred space was often reused time and again, thus the long life of certain temple sequences at sites such as Pella, Aleppo, and Beth Shean. It goes without saying that a site like Megiddo, for example, demonstrates extreme longevity and continuity in use of the same sacred space evident in the many superimposed temples in Area BB. One other contribution
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made by Kamlah is his assertion that the shift from broad-room to long-room temple architecture in the southern Levant parallels a shift from imaging the deity’s dwelling in terms of local domestic architectural traditions to conceptualizing the deity’s dwelling as something distinctly and profoundly exceptional (ibid.: 516). This is important for the analysis of how temple architecture was perceived by the populace of the southern Levant (Section 6.1). 3.2.2 Critique of These Previous Studies In all of these studies, there was little effort to systematically reconstruct Canaanite activities in open spaces and temple courtyards. However, studies from sites in other regions have demonstrated the use of these spaces by multiple and large groups of ritual participants. For example, there was an expansive distribution of offering pits in multiple locations at Byblos (e.g. Enceinte Sacrée, the temple of the Lady of Byblos/Batiment II, the Champ des Offrandes, the Obelisk temple complex). Further, at Ebla there were larger, singular deposits in outdoor favissae and at Nahariya, the “bammot” represents extensive outdoor activity. It is possible the former signifies multiple smaller events, while the latter indicate larger communal activities on the part of many ritual participants (Marchetti and Nigro 1997: 34–35, Sala 2015). Further, in the above studies on Canaanite temples, no attention was paid to how the magnitude of a temple and its location were perceived, experienced, approached and accessed by local populations. Undoubtedly, a towering migdal temple standing on a raised platform and situated in an urban, elite-controlled acropolis would have made a very different impression and induced a different religious experience than a rural or extramural open-air cultic site. There was forethought that went into where a temple was situated, how it was constructed, and why one particular temple prototype was chosen over another. The following section suggests utilizing a phenomenological approach in order to address these issues. 3.2.3 Phenomenology, Space Use, and Interpretation in Archaeology An important element virtually ignored by previous studies on Canaanite cultic architecture has been the role and experience of ritual participants within cultic spaces. One aim of the study in Part II, however, is to understand how cultic space was experienced by ritual participants. From a phenomenological perspective, a number of new and unique questions can be asked related to the religious experience of individuals within southern Levantine cultic architecture (below). Phenomenology is the study of phenomena, in which a phenomenon is any entity standing as a subject in the world (Tilley 2005: 201–202; cf. Husserl in Kockelmans 1967; Heidegger 1996; Schloen 2001: 7–28, and bibliography therein). Humans are not passive but rather are actively involved in the external world and experience through seeing, hearing, touching, smelling and tasting. Phenomenology-based research has been specifically applied to the archaeological study of landscape and monuments (e.g. Tilley 1994). These efforts have stressed that attention should be paid to the everyday experiences of humans. Grounded in phenomenological discourse, landscape archaeology has demonstrated the value in differentiating between space and place, where the former has universal, objective and quantifiable qualities, while the latter has locally-meaningful, experientially-grounded and qualitative qualities (Whitridge 2004: 213–215; cf. Smith 2003). In truth, the two notions are likely inseparable. As such, the space/ place dialectic can serve as a useful analytical tool for determining universal and site-specific and particularistic aspects of temples. This study will demonstrate that cultic spaces in general in the southern Levant had a range of objective (generalizing) and meaning-imbued (particularistic) characteristics. This approach to constructed space is important in investigating Canaanite temples. There is forethought and active decision-making in building, in architectural forms, and in choosing site location (Rykwert 1991: 54; Rapoport 1994: 488; Ingold 2000: 178–181). The very thoughts, ideas, values, norms and cultural cues that humans bear are dictated by their habitus (Bourdieu 1977; Gadot and Yasur-Landau 2006). At the same time, the active agency of individuals, learned from their experiences and interactions with their surroundings, contributes to the final form of any given structure (Ingold 2000: 185–186). This is directly relevant to the analysis of why particular types and forms of temples in the southern Levant were constructed. Phenomenological-based approaches further aim to gain a better sense and understanding of the relationship between the natural landscape and constructed space. Related to this study, the following questions can be asked. How do the various Canaanite temple types, and their locations, relate to and fit into the surrounding natural environment? Is the temple truly a part the natural landscape or is it part of an anthropogenically
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altered urban landscape? With regards to location and the surroundings, does one access the space by ascending? Further, how visible were different temples from their surroundings? Were they intended to be viewed from afar or were they hidden? And how accessible were the temples? Were they located in open, easily approachable spaces, or did they have restricted access, from a single or limited number of entrances? Additionally, what kind of impression did the temple façade create? Were the structures noticeably imposing in size or height from up close or from afar? These questions will aid both in the analyses of the temples presented in Chapter 4 and of the temple courtyards in Chapter 5. 3.2.3.1
Some Applications of Phenomenology in Archaeology
A number of important archaeological studies have made use of phenomenology as a basis of their interpretive process on the use and experience of space. Some of these studies have focused on households (Faust and Bunimovitz 2003: 28–29; Gadot and Yasur-Landau 2006). Others have focused specifically on more monumental architecture, such as at Mari (Margueron 1995). Maran explores how certain forms of social practice (ceremonial processionals) and architectural space (Mycenaean citadels) interact with one another and stresses the goal is to “link this architecture with social practices possibly taking place in it” (Maran 2009: 75–76). Maran demonstrates how Mycenaean palatial architecture controlled movement and framed experience. As ceremonial performers, participants and observers navigated the narrow alleyways, corridors and palatial courtyards, their every thought and action were manipulated if not altogether controlled by the confined spaces, imposing walls, and the occasional open – and accordingly more interactive – courtyards. Thus, Maran demonstrates that Mycenaean palatial layouts were spatially organized to restrict movement and to dictate the flow of personnel, limiting the number of participants (Fig. 3.4). At the site Tiryns, the towering fortifications manipulated visibility and thus allowed outside observers to see one thing and one thing only – the great palace complex atop the city’s acropolis. On the other hand, Minoan palatial complexes were unfortified and had designated courtyard spaces that were highly accessible to much larger numbers of people (Maran 2009). Other attempts to reconstruct the human experience of religion have been approached through the archaeology of the senses (Insoll 2007:49–53; Hamilakis 2011). Humans do not only experience the visual aspects of temple architecture but they also undergo motions and rites that incorporate other senses such as tasting, smelling, hearing and feeling. As humans are beings that engage with the world through multisensory interactions, it is only logical for the archaeologist to try and reconstruct through the material remains what types of sensuous activities were performed. This should be extended as well to notions of liminality. Liminal stages have generally been explored through the lens of “rites of passage” (van Gennep 1960; Turner 1967) as periods and spaces that are between and betwixt the initial separating stage and the final reaggregation stage (Garwood 2011: 261–264). Liminality implies hierarchy and submission to those with control and higher knowledge. As such, one who subscribes to certain rites of passage submit to social differentiation within their society and specifically to the authorities who construct those differentiations. Although it is nearly impossible to reconstruct possible rites of passages through archaeology – particularly when dealing with a Canaanite cult that left little written evidence – the discussion of liminality in the context of liminal zones of passage is intriguing. The transformations that one goes through when entering sacred space through entryways, gates and thresholds should not be overlooked (ibid.: 268–276). Notions of liminality will be relevant to later chapters as well.
3.3
The Layout of Part II
As demonstrated above, studies have generally ignored phenomenological approaches to analyzing cultic spaces. Rarely has the place of the individual’s experience, how one moved through religious space and partook in ritual and ceremony, or how different temple types might have affected different religious experiences been the focus of research. Further, temple location and the use and size of courtyard spaces have been given little attention in these studies. In order to address these important issues, I first present in Chapter 4 the more objective data of the temples: site location, temple dimensions, stratigraphy, and temple relation to other architecture. To this end, this research builds off of previous studies’ emphasis on architecture. However, the research questions presented above will push the discussion in a new direction. Chapter 5 will deal with temple courtyards. Estimates of the total number of ritual participants that could fit into given spaces, based on coefficients of population density, will be calculated in this effort to draw a
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relationship between temple interior, temple courtyard, and larger urban settlement population estimates. If these spaces can successfully be integrated into the analysis of Canaanite cultic architecture, it will add to the general scope of our understanding of the experience and organization of Canaanite cult, including the relationship between the roles of ritual personnel and the lay population. This chapter will also attempt to situate Canaanite temples within their urban or non-urban landscapes, with the aim to understand how different cultic structures were woven into the architectural or natural fabric of their surroundings. The hope is to create a more holistic understanding of cult as practiced within Canaan through the lens of phenomenology. Chapter 6 will synthesize the data from the previous chapters.
Chapter 4 Architecture 4.1
Organization of the Analysis on Temple Architecture
Chapter 4 will analyze the major types of cultic loci in the southern Levant. Each temple will be presented in terms of stratigraphy followed by an analysis. It is organized geographically, proceeding from north to south and from the coast inwards, and temporally from the MB to the LB. The following categories will be used to differentiate between locations: urban/walled city, rural/unwalled settlement, and extramural/no nearby settlement. Within these categories of location, the following architectural types will be defined: open-air locus of cultic activity, large monumental symmetrical (migdal) temple, small shrine (either symmetrical or asymmetrical) and temple with irregular floor plan. The sites that were chosen are largely from the southern Levant with a few exceptions (e.g. Ugarit, Byblos, Tell el-Dab‘a). Most have been discussed in previous studies on Canaanite temples (e.g. in Stern 1984; Mazar 1992; Kamlah 2012). This analysis leaves out sites and structures with unclear or controversial loci which have at one time or another been suggested as being cultic such as MB Kfar Shemaryahu (Kaplan 1971) and MB/LB Tel Mor (Dothan 1959, 1960; Barako 2007). Similarly, this analysis does not include projected Egyptian temples deduced from textual or epigraphic evidence but with no evidence of temple infrastructure in the archaeological record such as LB Jerusalem (Barkay 1996), Tel Aphek (Giveon 1978; Kochavi 1978; Weinstein 1981: 19–20; Frankel and Kochavi 2000: 17), Gaza (Weinstein 1981: 19) and Ashkelon (Loud 1939: 12, pl. 63; Weinstein 1981: 19). Further, once suspected temples such as the building complex at Amman airport (Wright 1966), the Bronze Age building at El Tananir (Boling 1969, Wright 1971b: 583), and the MB “double temple” and LB square structure at Hazor Area F (Zuckerman 2012: 104–105) will not be included in this analysis because they are no longer considered to have functioned as focal points of cultic activity (Mazar 1992: 183).
4.2
The Intermediate Bronze Age
Although others have seen from an evolutionary vantage point that MB religion and cultic architecture had its roots in the EB (e.g. de Miroschedji 2011) or even earlier, this study begins with the Intermediate Bronze Age. It is during the IBA that a number of important traditions are already evident continuing into the MB. The following four notions were integral characteristics of Canaanite cult: the rural and natural landscape of the micro-region becoming an integral part of the religious landscape of the locals; the aniconic nature of cultic sites and furnishings, such as maṣṣebot; the communal aspect of cult; and evidence for large amounts of consumption. Further, the cultic landscape at the onset of the MB in Canaan began with no evidence of monumental or urban architecture but rather with open-air precincts, lacking defined floor plans, temple walls, and temenos. The IBA sites of Tel ‘Ashir and a cave near Qedesh demonstrate that many of these shared traits were already established prior to the MB. 4.2.1 Tel ‘Ashir At Tel ‘Ashir, an early tradition of maṣṣebot was practiced atop a hamra (red loam) hill just south of Naḥal Poleg, about 500 m from the coast (Gophna and Ayalon 2004). The IBA site was extramural, commanding a view of the sea to the west, northwards up the coastal plain to the Carmel Ridge, eastwards to the ascending highland, and southwards along the coastal plain toward Tel Aviv. The main features of the site were a number of integrated units composed of a large, rounded, drum-shaped kurkar stone (ranging from 0.5 m to 1.6 m high and 0.5 m to 1.4 m wide) and a semi-rectangular maṣṣebah beside it (ibid.: Fig. 6). The maṣṣebot were aniconic, bearing no inscriptions or depictions. Two parallel rows of these installations were discerned (ibid.: Fig. 4) and a number of the maṣṣebot were found in situ, some reaching over a meter high (ibid.: Table 1). Between the two rows of maṣṣebot at the center of the site, a rectangular mud brick block measuring 1.3 m by 2.2 m was found covered in ash and collapsed stones and brick material. Thick layers of additional ash were found surrounding it (ibid.: 162). This, together with a number of associated hearths (ibid.), likely served as the focal point of activity at the site. Small finds were yielded throughout the site in thick layers of ash, including only a few animal bones. A small structure with an associated hearth was also found, but the remains were too meager to assess its function and a general floor plan.
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The cult at Tel ‘Ashir resembles the form of cultic spaces evident in the MB. It was an open-air precinct lacking defined floor plans and having no temple infrastructure, walls or well-defined temenos. The aniconic maṣṣebot and associated stones reflect the types of focal points of ritual activity that continue into the MB. The associated finds and hearths were evidence of activities related to those rituals. During this early period, the pottery and objects do not indicate specific ritual use but rather have the appearance of everyday mundane activities. The location of the Tel ‘Ashir cultic precinct is also significant: it was embedded within the natural coastal landscape of the Sharon plain overlooking the sea to the west and the inland coastal plain to the east. The use of the natural setting and the high visibility of the site from its surroundings as well as of the surroundings from the site itself further correlate with cultic spaces established in the early MB. Finally, the major activities noted in MB precincts – consumption, cooking, sacrifice and ritual feasts – seem to have been the major activities at Tel ‘Ashir as well. 4.2.2 Cave near Qedesh A cave 500 m north of Tel Qedesh in the Upper Galilee was discovered in 1970 (Tadmor 1978: 1–3). It was cut into the soft chalk rock at the base of a ridge and was elliptical in shape, about 6.7 x 4.8 m with a maximum height of 1.8 m. Tadmor suggested the cave should be understood as cultic in nature (ibid.: 10). The lack of human bones rules out its function as a burial cave, although the possibility that the rituals performed in the cave in some way related to funerary practices cannot be disregarded (ibid.: 3, 5–6). Two focal points of activity are evident inside the cave: a worked pillar and a depression in the ground. On the southern side of the cave, a worked pillar with a shelf that had been carved out of the natural mass of rock remained intact. Above the shelf and below the ceiling was a carved rectangular frame in flat relief – surrounding an empty space (ibid.: Fig. 2, Pl. 1). From the depression in the ground between the pillar and eastern wall of the cave, many well-preserved finds were recovered including pottery (high quantity of cooking pots) and small finds such as copper spiral strips, rings, earrings, pendants, beads, smooth stone pebbles, and two pins (ibid.: 4–5). No human or animal bones were recovered from the depression (ibid.: 3). Since no contemporary IBA settlement was found in the vicinity of the cave or Tel Qedesh, I suggest that the cave functioned as a repository for cultic paraphernalia, votive offerings and utensils that were actually used outside of the cave. The cave itself was not spacious and from the sheer quantity of ceramic objects found in the depression, it is clear the cave was not the space within which those objects were used. Like trends attested in the MB, the comparatively large quantity of cooking pots within the cave’s overall assemblage indicates that extensive cooking and corresponding feasts and communal meals were conducted. These activities took place outdoors and like at Tel ‘Ashir and in the early MB cultic precincts, the cult used the natural landscape as the setting for commensal consumption. While it is likely that ritual and consumption were performed outdoors, the vessels were then deposited inside the cave following their use. The ledge on the cave’s pillar could have functioned as a surface for placing objects, possibly votive offerings. This shelf functioned similarly to the offering tables, altars and suggested bammot found already at the onset of the MB. In fact, the pillar itself could be understood within the context of a cultural landscape that conceptualized pillars of stone (maṣṣebot) as religiously symbolic objects. On the other hand, the assemblage from the depression in the ground appears to have functioned as a favissa, one of the most recurring forms of object deposition in both MB and LB Canaanite cultic spaces. 4.2.3 Continuity of Cultic Traditions from the IBA to the Beginning of the MB Many of the elements of cult as practiced at these two IBA sites continue into the MB: the cultic spaces were rural and included the natural landscape of the micro-region as an integral part of the religious landscape; they were aniconic in nature; they largely reflect communal and group activities; and ritual was primarily focused around large-scale consumption. All of these typify early MB Canaanite religion. IBA maṣṣebot traditions were not only witnessed at Tel ‘Ashir but also at Naḥal Repha’im (Eisenberg 1993: 86–87) and ‘En Hilo in the Lower Galilee (Covello-Paran 1997: 26–27). There is yet earlier attestations of maṣṣebot at Hartuv, an EB I village in the Shephelah (Mazar et al. 1996: 7–9, Figs. 7–12), although currently there is no clear evidence of direct continuity of this maṣṣebot tradition between the EB I and the IBA.17 The former were found within building complexes, likely functioning as household cult objects. They 17
Cf. Avner 2001, for a much longer history of maṣṣebot in the southern Levant, spanning back to the 11th millennium
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signify that the tradition of erecting maṣṣebot permeated into domestic and household ritual during the IBA and therefore were also an essential component of domestic cult. The latter at Hartuv were found within Hall 152, a roofed sanctuary, although the excavators assessed that they originated in an open-air setting as part of a communal locus of worship (ibid.: 12). All of these come from non-urban, non-elite settings in periods when hierarchy and social complexity and differentiation were limited (Mazar et al. 1996: 25–27, 30; Covello-Paran 2015: 2–5). Thus, communal cultic activities and the use of aniconic maṣṣebot were clearly well-established traditions prior to the MB that continued to be of central significance to Canaanite religion.
4.3
MB Open-Air Loci of Cultic Activity
During the MB, open-air cultic sites continued the IBA phenomenon. In the southern Levant, traditions of gathering in outdoor precincts for the purpose of cultic activity persisted and continued to integrate local landscapes into the realm of religious experience. No distinct “temple-types” were regularly constructed at these sites and some lacked architecture altogether. In the earliest instances, MB open-air cultic spaces were established in either extramural settings or rural sites, while some fortified urban settings also had open-air cultic spaces. Continuing the trend observed in the IBA, these cultic settings appear to be beyond the direct control of elites. The following will demonstrate both the diversity of, yet the shared characteristics of, openair cultic sites in the southern Levant. 4.3.1 Nahariya The site of Nahariya was an extramural coastal cult center in the north of Canaan situated 800 m north of the nearest settlement of Tel Nahariya. It was located about 100 m from the Mediterranean coast (Ben-Dor 1951: 17) in the northernmost part of the Western Galilee, 9 km north of Tel Akko and 4.5 km west of Tel Kabri. It was a non-residential site established to specialize as a cult center, possibly situated near freshwater springs, one of which is now submerged under the current level of Mediterranean Sea (Dothan 1981: 74). These freshwater supplies, as well as major sea and land routes moving north and south along the Mediterranean coast, were major factors in the isolated location of the Nahariya cultic precinct (Ben-Dor 1950: 41). The site has five main strata and was in use from the MB I–LB I.18 Stratum V correlates to the MB I. Strata IV–III correlate to the MB II–III. The latest strata, Strata II–I, correlate to the LB I (cf. Naeh 2012a: 10–14 and bibliography therein for an updated discussion on the site’s chronology). 4.3.1.1
Stratigraphy
Stratum V consisted of a small square room measuring 6 x 6 m constructed on 0.7 m wide stone foundations (Fig. 4.1). The entrance to the building was from the northeast. There was also an outdoor irregularly-shaped circular installation made of pebbles and rubble measuring about 6 m in diameter. It has generally been referred to as a bammah due to the high quantity and concentration of cultic objects found on and around it (Dothan 1993: 1091). Large quantities of small finds of cultic nature were found throughout the site, concentrated around the bammah and within the square structure (cf. Section 12.1.1). Included in the finds were miniature vessels, including many seven-cupped bowls (Naeh 2012a: 6). In Stratum IV, the square structure went out of use (Fig. 4.2). The bammah was extended and now spanned 14 m in diameter, its central focal point centered atop the earlier building. A courtyard with pavement was located to the west of the bammah in which a stone container was sunk into the ground, likely an altar. Also found to the southwest of the bammah was a rectangular stone pillar measuring 2 x 1.5 m and preserved to a height of just under 1 m. This was possibly part of a pair of maṣṣebot that once stood at the sacred area (Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 178 n.36; Kempinski 1992a: 197; Dothan 1993: 1091; see plans from Dothan 1956: fig. 1, square E/6–7). To the north of the bammah, a new single-roomed structure was established. It was a broad rectangular building measuring 10.7 x 6.2 m, with an entrance on the western end of
B.C.E. However, these were localized to the Negev and eastern Sinai (Avner 2001: 31–32) until the end of the EB and therefore do not reflect continuity in a local tradition. It should not be ruled out, however, that those early maṣṣebot impacted in some way the later development of the MB tradition. 18 Some pottery dating to the IBA was found as well, although it is likely the cultic activity was not established in Stratum V until the MB I (Yasur-Landau et al. 2008: 66).
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the long southern wall (Dothan 1956: 17, Fig. 1).19 Numerous cultic objects and pottery of all types came from the bammah, from the area around the altar, from the courtyard between the bammah and the rectangular building, in a dump west of the building, and elsewhere throughout the stratum (cf. Section 12.1.2). In Stratum III, the bammah continued to function (Fig. 4.3). The building to the north was expanded both to the east and to the west. Room Ia was added to its western end and Room II was added to the east. Rooms III and IV were added just north of Room II. Many fragments of cooking vessels and burnt remains were recovered from Room II whereas Rooms III and IV had few remains (cf. Section 12.1.3). The last two Strata (II and I) witnessed the bammah go out of use. It appears that the amount of cultic activity decreased at the site over time until it was eventually abandoned altogether in the LB I. Some imported Cypriot sherds found in the last stratum help determine a terminal LB date for the site. 4.3.1.2
Analysis
The site of Nahariya exhibited cultic character at all stages of its existence. From the earliest stratum, the distribution of finds indicates that the outdoor space, and specifically the bammah – not the building – served as the main locus of worship. Hundreds of miniature vessels in addition to other votive objects were yielded in that deposit. The following stratum (IV) further demonstrates this, when the bammah was expanded twofold in size. The distribution of cultic finds in Stratum IV also indicates that cultic activity was outside the building: cultic finds were most heavily concentrated outdoors and on and around the bammah. The newly constructed building to the north of the bammah served auxiliary purposes. Previous assumptions relied on the initial interpretation of Ben-Dor (Ben-Dor 1950) who defined the building as a shrine serving cultic purposes. However, the evidence seems to indicate that the structure did not function as a temple or focal point of cult. Subsequent analyses have stressed the lack of architecture typical for temples. No cultic niche, cella, benches, favissae or raised platform was found inside (Dothan 1981). Nor were the walls of the structures imposing or substantial enough to have supported multiple stories. In fact, within Room II many fragments of cooking vessels and burnt remains were recovered, suggesting the building was utilized for food preparation and cooking. Rooms III and IV had few remains, but from the few vessels that were recovered they appear to have been used as small storage chambers behind the kitchen. This expansion of the northern building indicates an increased need for storage space, a possible indication of an increase in cultic activity at the site and thus a need to provide for more individuals during the performance of rituals or cultic feasts. Thus, the cult as practiced at Nahariya was oriented around the superimposed deposits within the stones of the bammot. The open-air setting and lack of temenos at the site signify that religious activity at Nahariya was communal in orientation and deeply rooted and connected to the natural landscape of the local microregion. There is no evidence of substantial investment in architecture. The buildings at the site were not sanctuaries in themselves but functioned with auxiliary roles, whether as kitchens, storage, or living quarters for cultic personnel. The animal bones, ash, and cooking pots suggest large amounts of cooking took place at the site, possibly indicating that feasting took place as part of the cultic activities at the site. Further, the possible maṣṣebot at the site would link the Nahariya cult to the Canaanite religious milieu. Nahariya functioned as an isolated shrine situated along both sea and land routes (Brody 1998: 55). It was located within the greater kingdom of Kabri (Yasur-Landau et al. 2008), although disconnected from any of the MB settlements in the region. It therefore must have been some form of regional pilgrimage site, both as a venue for the population of the surrounding rural settlements (ibid.) as well as for traders and travelers passing by the region. As social complexity rose during the MB, cultic activity at the site remained intact with little evidence of any effort to integrate the site into more complex networks of urbanization or control. Activities at the site continued relatively undisturbed into the LB I. However, it is possible the rise of Kabri’s dominance over the region in the MB II paralleled, or even caused, the reconfiguring of the layout of the Nahariya cult site, with the expansion of the bammah and the construction and later renovations of the new rectangular building to the north.
19
An additional entrance along the western wall may have also been exposed during this stratum as well.
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4.3.2 Byblos According to the working definitions of Canaan and Canaanites presented in Section 2.1.2, Byblos and its populace fall well within the cultural continuum of West Semitic cultures along the coast of the Levant that exhibit many shared traditions and material culture with the southern Levant. Byblos is located in modern Lebanon along the eastern Mediterranean coast and 42 km north of Beirut. The site was situated on a promontory with two harbors and had access to the extensive and lucrative cedar trees from the mountains further inland. The site was intimately connected to the maritime trade networks as early as the EB, the effects of which can be seen in the richness and diversity of the material culture at the site (Dunand 1958: 479–481, 643–654). In the MB, maritime contacts and trade relations with Egypt were re-established at the onset of the Middle Kingdom in Egypt.20 This new stage in the settlement history of Byblos also saw the establishment of the Temple of the Obelisks. 4.3.2.1
Stratigraphy
The Temple of the Obelisks was constructed atop an earlier temple (Temple XIII) and demonstrates a shift in cultic traditions at the site. Whereas the previous temple was a walled edifice, the obelisk temple was not. Built upon a raised temenos surrounded by an outer wall, the asymmetrically-shaped precinct was composed of an open courtyard and rooms on the east side and a main courtyard and sanctuary on the west (Fig. 4.4). Most prominent and visible at the temple were 44 obelisk-shaped stelae which stood in and around the cultic precinct’s west, open-air, irregularly-shaped quadrilateral courtyard measuring about 18 x 22.5 m (Dunand 1958: 645). In the middle of this courtyard, a small shrine built upon raised ground 1.1 m high was constructed. It was also irregular in shape, paralleling the courtyard’s outer walls, and measured 9.6 x 6.3 m. The sanctuary was divided into a cella and pro-cella, and within the cella, there was a raised podium located at its center (ibid.: 647–650). Within the pro-cella antechambers and in various parts of the courtyard, eight large deposits were recovered containing large quantities of luxury objects and offerings. These objects included metal figurines, gold fenestrated axes, golden torques, silver birds, gold disks, animal figurines of bulls, monkeys, hippopotami, crocodiles and cats and ship models. Also recovered from around the obelisk courtyard were stone anchors, a miniature shrine, many more hundreds of metal figurines, and miniature vessels (ibid.: 948–954). The stelae were clearly influenced by Egyptian traditions, although nothing comparable to the obelisk temple is known from the Egyptian world. Although aesthetically these stones are anomalous in the Levant, they are yet another example of a Canaanite tradition of erecting maṣṣebot. They were mainly aniconic and ranged in height from 3.5 m to less than 0.5 m tall. They were standing around the courtyard, many still upright in situ. The largest concentration of obelisks was a group of 26 arranged in an irregular line at the southwestern part of the courtyard. The obelisks were found as parts of more complex installations, featuring a flat square or rectangular stone which protruded forward from the base, and some of the obelisks had niches cut into them. One obelisk had an inscription in hieroglyphics dedicated by the prince of Byblos – Abishemu – to a local deity, read alternatively as the Egyptian god Harsaphes (Dunand 1958: 646) or the West Semitic/Canaanite god Reshef (Dunand 1982).21 4.3.2.2
Analysis
The MB cultic precinct at Byblos reflects the traditions witnessed at Nahariya and Tel ‘Ashir, utilizing maṣṣebot within an open-air setting. In contrast to these sites, however, the Byblos precinct was located within a clearly demarcated temenos with a number of rooms and courtyards, and within a walled urban settlement. The lack of standardized or monumental cultic architecture situates the Byblos precinct within the general milieu of early MB Canaanite cultic spaces. Yet, the re-establishment of international trade and revived connections with Egypt left its mark on cult at the site. The form of the standing stones, the hieroglyphic inscriptions and the exceptional wealth of offerings including metal figurines and boat models, many of which were imports, relate to and reflect the important maritime role Byblos played in the MB (Broodbank 2013: 354, 355, 363–365). Thus, the Temple of the Obelisks has elements of both indigenous Canaanite cultic 20
For evidence of renewed contacts between the two, see Redford 1992: 37–43, 96–97; Gerstenblith 1983: 18–21, 38– 40; Tufnell and Ward 1966; Marcus 1998; 2007. 21 The two deities have also been equated as one in the same by Fulco 1976: 55.
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traditions and foreign, largely Egyptian, influences. This perhaps is most evident in the hieroglyphic inscription dedicated to a Semitic deity. 4.3.3 Megiddo Megiddo is located along the Via Maris at the point where Wadi Ara enters into the Jezreel Valley heading northeast from the Sharon Plain, thus giving the site strategic control over the international trade and travel route that led from Egypt north through the Levant. A cultic precinct with a long history was established in area BB, possibly as early as the Neolithic. The sacred nature of this area of the tell is emphasized by the continuous use and reuse of the area for cultic purposes. This is visible in the many superimposed strata composed of temples, bammot, and cultic furnishings and objects (Aharoni 1993: 1003–1005). The site experienced a cultural shift at the end of the EB. During the IBA and the early MB, the site was mainly unwalled and lacked significant settlement as in previous and subsequent strata. Through most of the MB, no monumental temple was constructed in Area BB. This analysis correlates to the IBA–MB I Strata XIV–XIII and to the MB II Strata XII–XI (Herzog 1997: 104). 4.3.3.1
Stratigraphy
In Stratum XIV, a new irregularly shaped cultic chamber was constructed over the remains of the EB Temple 4040, measuring 4.0 m by 5.5 m (Fig. 4.5). The space between the original walls of Temple 4040 and the new sanctuary was filled in with rubble. Situated on the southern wall was a raised niche and in the center of the room, a large stone measuring 1.75 x 1.25 m with a smooth flat top and a small cup mark depression was found. Also, a small paved platform was built on top of the remains of the EB bammah, interspersed with animal bones in Locus 4009 (Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 172). This small shrine, in use for only a short period, had an irregular floor plan. It was constructed with minimal resources, exploiting the previous phase’s remains for the purpose of creating a small local sanctuary. During the following Strata XIIIB–A, the sacred area remained open-air and devoid of cultic architecture. However, a number of cultic objects including metal figurines and a miniature seven-cupped bowl suggest it retained its cultic character. In Stratum XII, a small, newly constructed, single-roomed chamber measuring 5.5 x 3.0 m was built at the southwestern corner of the cultic precinct’s temenos during this phase (Fig. 4.6). Outside of the structure were randomly spaced maṣṣebot of varying shapes and sizes. They were each about 1 m tall and most were found still upright in situ (Loud 1948: 87–88). East of the small chamber was a large square stone, probably an altar. In this stratum, although the nature of cultic space remained the same, the open-air precinct became controlled by local elites. As suggested by Nigro, the large building of the Nordburg was constructed at this time directly to the west of the cultic precinct in Area BB. The newly formed cultic temenos was thus dictated by the walls of the edifice (Nigro 1994). The cultic precinct remained relatively unchanged through Stratum XI. In the MB III (Stratum X), Area BB underwent a significant transformation, altering the cultic landscape of the site: the construction of a monumental migdal temple (cf. Section 4.4.3). 4.3.3.2
Analysis
Throughout the long settlement history of Megiddo, there was a persistent and continued use of the same space for cult at the site. The importance of the strategic location of Megiddo, controlling the inland route from the coast to the Jordan Valley, is evident in the site’s unbroken settlement history throughout the Bronze Age. Yet, the type of settlement seemed to reflect the respective historical contexts, oscillating from urban to rural depending on the chrono-geopolitical circumstances of the period. For much of the IBA and MB, the settlement was a small rural settlement atop the tell, a shift from the urban and walled EB site. This shift in organization and geopolitical stature of the site was paralleled by the change in the orientation of the cultic precinct. The location remained the same, but the new cult that was established had many of the same elements as attested in the IBA and at other MB open-air precincts. The site’s cultic precinct shifted away from the temple architecture of the EB, at first functioning within an open-air setting. Later, maṣṣebot were erected in association with a small irregularly-shaped shrine and altar. The focal point of the cultic activity remained outdoors. This assemblage, consisting of a small shrine, altar, and undecorated and aniconic maṣṣebot, indicates that Megiddo’s MB I–II cultic precinct was part of a local Canaanite religious milieu.
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Thus, Megiddo’s shifting cultic landscape was a result of the settlement history of the site itself. This is reflected in the changing cultic architecture through these phases at the site, transitioning from temples to open-air precincts. In the MB III when Megiddo was once again well established and fortified, a monumental temple was constructed (Section 4.4.3). 4.3.4 Hazor Hazor strategically sat along several branches of the Via Maris. In contrast to the previous sites that were either coastal or closely connected to the Mediterranean, Hazor was located in the eastern Upper Galilee, 5 km west of the Jordan River, 25 km north of the Sea of Galilee and 5 km southwest of Lake Huleh (Yadin et al. 1958: 1–3). A site of many cultic loci, at least one – the MB II Complex of Standing Stones atop the acropolis in Area A – was open air with maṣṣebot. At present, this precinct will be discussed here; the rest will be further elaborated in the following sections. 4.3.4.1
Stratigraphy
In Area A, a maṣṣebot enclosure was established and in use through three uninterrupted phases in the MB II (Fig. 4.7). It is likely that cultic space was established near a presumed entrance to the palace in Stratum XVI (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 45–54). The three phases, Phases C, B, and A, were spatially defined by multiple rooms with maṣṣebot in an open courtyard space. Thirty-seven maṣṣebot made of basalt and limestone were found within the open-air precinct, arranged in several parallel rows oriented north-south (Ben-Ami 2006: 40–41; Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 45–46). The stones were unworked and plain and were mainly grouped in pairs facing west (Zuckerman 2012: 111). The larger stone of the pair usually stood about 1 m high, the shorter about half that size. Flat stones associated with the maṣṣebot were placed at the bases. Additionally, a large circular stone basin (1 m diameter) stood in the middle of the enclosure (Ben-Tor 2004: 232–233; Ben-Ami 2010: Fig. 1; Ben-Tor et al. 2017: Plans 3.14–3.15, Photos 3.32, 3.34) and thousands of animal bones, an ash layer, three metal female figurines and beads were recovered (Ben-Ami 2006). Further, benches lined the walls of the complex as well as the interior walls of a series of rooms surrounding this precinct (ibid.: 40). 4.3.4.2
Analysis
The Complex of Standing Stones on Hazor’s acropolis in one sense resembles the other open-air cultic spaces already discussed: it was constructed so that the central focal points of cultic activities lacked the monumental architecture that was witnessed at other Hazor (and Canaanite) temples. The many maṣṣebot represent the Canaanite tradition of erecting standing stones in open-air precincts. Further, the space allowed for a multitude of individuals to approach numerous standing stone and offering table installations simultaneously, suggesting inclusive group-oriented communal activities. All of these facets were already observed in the IBA at Tel ‘Ashir. The standing stone and offering table installations further recall contemporary practices at Byblos (the obelisks were similarly associated with flat offering tables at their bases) and in the temple courtyard at Tell el-Hayyat (cf. Section 4.5.1). The basin might have served as a receptacle for libation offerings or for water purification rituals. It is also possible that the basin was a form of an altar for burnt offerings, although no evidence of burning has been found on it. The thousands of animal bones recovered from the precinct indicate the space was used for large amounts of consumption and possible sacrifice. Importantly, the many benches indicate offerings were presented, either of foodstuffs for deities or otherwise votive offerings of objects that were later removed. While the Hazor precinct in many ways reflects the early IBA and MB open-air traditions, there is an inherent duality at the site. This precinct was part of a much larger palatial complex of an urban center, possibly the central city in a small kingdom in the MB II. While this complex was part of an official, elitecontrolled cult and space, the activities seem to have remained somewhat vernacular. The maṣṣebot were relatively small, and the finds were not of the prestige and stature expected for such a palatial setting. Like at Byblos, there was a duality at the site. At Hazor, this duality was between popular MB cult and official, elite and palatial religion. The fact that elements of popular cult were maintained within a palatial setting, with a nearby contemporary migdal temple (Section 4.4.2.1), suggests that there was a concerted effort by the elites to maintain the integrity of older MB cultic traditions in this precinct.
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4.3.5 Gezer Gezer was a large fortified site that had a maṣṣebot precinct. Located at the cross section of the Judean foothills and northern Shephelah, Gezer sat prominently on a hilltop that had a commanding panoramic view, spanning the coastal plain south to Ashdod and as far north as the Carmel. Gezer’s long settlement history is due in part to its strategic location situated at the point where the road to the Judean Hills, Jerusalem and other sites in the hills branches off from the Via Maris (Dever 1993b: 496). During the late MB I, settlement was re-established at the site after a long occupation gap; only later in the MB were the massive fortifications constructed (Dever 1971: 95–100; 1973: 69–70). The Inner City Wall, relevant to the discussion of the chronology of the High Place and maṣṣebot, was erected in the MB III (Dever 1973: 62–68). 4.3.5.1
Stratigraphy
A High Place was uncovered in Strata XIX–XVIII that was in use in the later MB (Fig. 4.8). It was located in the north-central area of the tell (Field 5), just inside the inner walls of the MB settlement (Fig. 4.9). Three strata lay beneath the maṣṣebot field, extending back to the EB (Dever 1971: 121–122). In the MB III, a row of ten undressed “monoliths” was erected, standing next to a large rectangular basin (Macalister 1912b: 385– 396). The surface of the High Place was plastered over. A low-rising stone wall surrounded the courtyard facing the standing stones. All of this was dated by Dever in the renewed excavations to the MB III, around 1600 B.C.E. (Dever 1973: 69; 2014; Ussishkin 2006; but see Ben-Ami 2008). The maṣṣebot were oriented along a slightly curved north-south line and ranged in heights, the largest standing 3.1 m tall and the shortest over 1 m.22 The maṣṣebot all differed in thickness and breadth, and none were evenly spaced. Also, nine of the ten stones were made of local limestone (Macalister 1912b: 385). Stone VII appears to have been imported from some distance away (ibid.: 390–391). Directly to the west of Stones V and VI, stood the large stone block with a deep square basin cut into it. The rectangular stone was 1.9 x 1.5 m and 0.8 m high, and the rectangular depression cut into the top measured 0.9 x 0.6 m and 0.4 m deep. Large amounts of ash and charred animal bones were found associated with the High Place. A number of female metal figurines were yielded as well (Negbi 1976: 131–132, 183–184). 4.3.5.2
Analysis
The Gezer precinct exemplifies yet another instance of open-air cultic activity removed from any visible temple architecture. The maṣṣebot, basin, bones and ash all indicate similar activities and traditions as the previous sites discussed in this section. Yet, the maṣṣebot at Gezer were unique in the southern Levant, in their wide-ranging monolithic sizes (Byblos being the only comparable site) and their near linear alignment. The monumentality of the standing stones certainly would have created impressions upon the ritual participants. Further, although they were situated in an open-air precinct, the site itself was urban, walled and fortified. 4.3.6 Conclusions These sites were all part of a phenomenon in the southern Levant in which traditions of gathering in open-air precincts for the purpose of cultic activity integrated local landscapes into the realm of religious experience. No distinct “temple-types” were regularly constructed during this early stage, although early MB I megara/temples in antis in the Jordan Valley at Tell el-Hayyat and Pella suggest a somewhat different trajectory of the development of cultic architecture at inland sites than on the coast (cf. Sections 4.4.5, 4.5.1). In some cases, open-air cultic spaces were established in extramural settings, while in other instances they were established in rural or fortified urban settings. Further diversity is noted in that some spaces were completely denuded of architecture while others included small associated structures, and some were found with standing stones while others at times had better defined temenos. In all these locations, traditions noted at the IBA cultic sites carried over into the MB traditions, although to varying extents. At all of these sites, there was a continued emphasis on community and large amounts of consumption as these precincts were open spaces within which large groups could gather. The extramural settings would have been the most effective in fully integrating the natural landscape into the religious land22
The measurements can be found in Macalister 1912b: 386.
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scape, although even in urban settings, the effect of performing ritual in unroofed and outdoor spaces would have been effective in introducing natural elements into the cultic experience. Further, aniconism to varying degrees is still evident, although with increased integration into the MB networks, this situation changed as is evident in the figurines and other prestige objects that first appear at these open-air sites in the MB, especially at Nahariya. Returning to the research questions, it would appear that within the category of open-air cultic precincts, a number of different locations were utilized: extramural, rural, and urban settings. These different settings dictated how the cultic spaces related to their surroundings. Thus, extramural temples were the most integrated into the natural landscape, while open-air precincts in urban settings were more complex. In the latter, either a combination of local and foreign influences, or popular and official cult, were attested. The integration of the region into the more complex MB international networks impacted cult in one form or another: at Nahariya this was in the form of prestige objects presented as votive offerings, while at Byblos the Egyptian influences were clearly evident and at urban Hazor, the role of the palace elites left their mark. From a phenomenological perspective, it was the approach to the extramural and rural precincts that were most accessible and visible, while the urban precincts (Byblos, Gezer, Hazor) variously had more restricted and controlled approaches. Yet, there was still an effort in those urban settings to maintain community, communal activity, and an integration of cult into the natural landscape.
4.4
Urban Migdal Temples in MB Canaan: A Standardized Form of Temple Architecture
Whereas these early IBA and MB cultic sites were open air and utilized the natural landscape, other focal points of cultic worship began to develop throughout Canaan as well. Both in urban and in rural settings, temples began to function as spaces of cultic activities. Thus, at the urban/walled cities of Ugarit, Hazor, Megiddo, Shechem, Pella, Tel Haror and Tell el-Dab‘a, large monumental symmetrical temples were constructed mainly in the later MB, a number of which were utilized into the LB and even Iron Age. Two rural examples have been exposed at the MB Jordan Valley sites of Tell el-Hayyat and Tel Kitan (refer to Fig. 4.10). Regarding nomenclature, these temples have variously been referred to as tower or migdal temples, monumental symmetrical temples, fortress temples, megaron temples, temples in antis and Syrian temples. The varying terminology emphasizes different aspects of these temples. For example, the thick and fortified walls and towers at the entrance of these temples suggested names such as fortress and tower temples. The extensions of these tower buttresses resembled smaller temples of similar form called megaron temples and temples in antis. The monumentality and symmetry of these temples suggested the descriptive title monumental symmetrical. Still, others referred to these as Syrian temples since there were early parallels and predecessors to this temple type in Syria (Mazar 1992: 166–167; Kamlah 2012: 515). The Hebrew term, migdal, was derived from the Hebrew bible’s reference to a migdal at Shechem in Judges 9 (Mazar 1968: 92–93) Six recurring parameters tend to distinguish these temples: (1) being constructed on raised ground or a temenos; (2) exceptionally thick walls (at least 2 m thick); (3) a single direct entrance along a longitudinal central axis; (4) two main architectural units, the main room being large and either a long-room or broadroom; (5) a holy-of-holies clearly defined by a cultic niche or a raised platform against the back wall on a direct axis from the entrance; and (6) the front of the façade appearing plain, but sometimes featuring two towers flanking either side of the entrance (Mazar 1992: 166–167). All of these features appear at nearly every example of this temple type. The following discussion will emphasize these shared architectural features and will indicate when divergences are evident. 4.4.1 Ugarit Following Schloen (2001: 201), Ugarit is included in this analysis because the material culture at the site shared many traits with the southern Levant (cf. Section 2.1.2). Ugarit is located 800 m off the Mediterranean coast of modern-day Syria, situated between two streams which flow west and empty out at the main bay of the nearby port, Minet el-Beida. There is evidence of human activity at the site as early as the 7th millennium B.C.E. (Yon 1997: 257). Ugarit’s historical apex and most well-preserved period was the LB, although MB settlement was unquestionably significant as well. Many temples were constructed at the site, including the royal “Hurrian Temple” within the palace in the northwest of the tell and the Temple of the Rhytons situated
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in a neighborhood in the center of the tell (Yon 2006: 49, 78, 82–83, Figs. 25, 44, 47, 48). In addition to these temples, the remains of two migdal temples were found in the LB strata of the acropolis at Ugarit (Fig.4.11); their foundations likely lay below in MB levels (Yon 2006: 113). The Temple of Ba‘al stood to the west while the Temple of Dagan was on the east side of the acropolis.23 4.4.1.1
Stratigraphy
The LB Temple of Ba‘al was built within an enclosure – evidence of a temenos wall was partially exposed (Fig. 4.12). The temple was composed of a rectangular broad-room cella measuring 12 x 8 m and a broad and somewhat narrower pro-cella measuring 8 x 7 m. The walls were about 2 m thick. The temple was symmetrically oriented with the entrance on a direct axis opposite the cella and facing the south. Further to the south and opposite the entrance was the temple’s courtyard in which a stone altar measuring 2 x 2 m with two steps leading up to it was found. Stairs led from the courtyard to the elevated entrance of the temple. An interior staircase led up to the roof of the temple, estimated to be 18 m high. The Temple of Dagan had a similar layout. Like its western counterpart, part of a temenos wall was detected surrounding the temple. Similarly, the temple was composed of a rectangular broad-room cella facing south with a slightly narrower broad-room pro-cella leading into it. The remains of the superstructure were badly damaged; only the thick 4 m-wide foundations were detected. The exterior dimensions of the temple were about 18 m wide in the cella and 12 m wide in the pro-cella, and 21 m long from the back of the cella to the temple’s entrance. The temple was symmetrically oriented facing south with the entrance centered on a direct axis leading to the back of the cella. The thickness of the foundations and the remains of two partial staircases indicate that the temple had multiple stories (Yon 2006: 114–115). To the south of the temple there was a courtyard, although no altar was found. 4.4.1.2
Analysis
These two temples conform to all six parameters presented above. The temples, which were likely built in the MB, were in use throughout the LB until the final destruction of LB Ugarit. Their urban setting atop the acropolis situates them within similar settings as the following southern Levantine examples. 4.4.2 Hazor Hazor was mentioned above as a site with an open-air maṣṣebot precinct. However, other loci of cultic activity were established at the site as well. Migdal temples were constructed in Areas H and A. The earliest evidence of these temples is Area A’s Southern Temple, constructed in Stratum XVII (MBII). The Area H temple was first built in Stratum 3 (MB III) and continued to serve cultic needs throughout the LB. The Northern Temple was constructed in Area A during the LB after the Southern Temple went out of use in Stratum XV. The function of Building 7050 (Strata XIV–XIII) has been debated, but it seems to be in the form of a migdal temple par excellence (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 20–141). 4.4.2.1
Area A Temples
Three different structures were constructed atop the acropolis at Hazor, with some debate regarding the extent of their cultic nature. These structures were the Southern Temple, the Northern Temple, and Building 7050. The earliest of these temples was established in the MB II, the Southern Temple. The Northern Temple was constructed in the LB I. Building 7050 should be attributed to the LB II. 4.4.2.1.1 Stratigraphy The Southern Temple (Fig. 4.13) was of monumental stature (Bonfil et al. 1997: 25–35; Ben-Tor and Zuckerman 2009: 206; Zuckerman 2012: 110–111; Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 35–45, 65). Located within the monumental multi-roomed palace precinct, the structure was constructed according to a long-room layout and was 23
An inscribed stele of Ba‘al with a thunderbolt and an Egyptian inscription dedicated to Ba‘al Saphon recovered near the western temple suggest it was dedicated to Ba‘al (Schaeffer 1935: 155), while a stele recovered from the eastern temple’s courtyard that bore dedicatory inscriptions to Dagan suggests that temple was dedicated to Dagan (Schaeffer 1935: 155–156; but not all agree on this attribution, see Yon 2006: 114).
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oriented along an east-west axis with the entrance opening toward the east (Ben-Tor 1993: 599–600). Its projected measurements were 27 x 15 m with massive walls about 3 m thick upon stone foundations. The back wall featured a niche centered opposite the entrance, measuring 5 x 1 m. The back wall on either side of the niche was 4 m thick. In the center of the single-roomed temple was a circular stone-lined favissa filled with a rich assemblage of cultic pottery vessels and large quantities of burnt animal bones (Ben-Tor and Zuckerman 2009: 206–8; Zuckerman 2012: 110–111). This temple went out of use at the end of the MB/LB I. A second temple, the Northern Temple, was constructed either in the LB I or LB II (Fig. 4.14; cf. Bentor et al. 2017: 141).24 The temple was a single-roomed building with a long-room layout (16.2 x 11.5 m) having mud-brick walls 2.4 m thick and resting upon stone foundations. It was also oriented toward the east with a podium (4.8 x 1.5 m) along the back wall on a direct axis from the entrance. The temple opened up into a larger cultic precinct composed of a paved courtyard and other buildings (Bonfil et al. 1997: Plans II.6–7; Zuckerman 2012: 112–113). This temple formed part of the LB ceremonial precinct and went out of use in the LB II (ibid.). Building 7050 (Fig. 4.15) was a monumental symmetrical structure that opened up into a large courtyard with much of the temenos wall and possible entrance exposed (Zuckerman 2012: 112–4). The overall exterior dimensions of the structure were about 40 x 35 m with 4 m thick walls built on a stone foundation (Bonfil 1997 et al.; Bonfil and Zarzecki-Peleg 2007: 30–31). The building was constructed along a symmetrical axis. The main hall (cella) was oriented facing east with interior dimensions of 13 x 12.5 m, with a blocked-off niche along its back wall (access was through a small bent-axis passage on the north side of the back wall) and two small auxiliary rooms on both sides of the hall’s central axis. The cella walls were lined with orthostats, similar to Strata 1B and 1A of the Area H temple. The entrance hall (about 18 x 8 m) was lower than the cella and had two large basalt column bases at the entrance. This hall was flanked by side rooms, for storage or a possible staircase leading to upper stories. There was a spacious courtyard (about 25 x 30 m) with a large ca. 7 x 7 m altar directly in front of the building’s entrance and two rows of column bases on either side. Some debate has revolved around the identification of this structure as a palace or temple (Bonfil and Zarzecki-Peleg 2007; Zuckerman 2012 Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 138–140). From the overall layout, the altar facing its entrance, and the wealth of cultic objects recovered from the complex (many of which resemble those from the Area H temple), Building 7050 should be considered a migdal temple as well. 4.4.2.2
Area H Temple
Area H was part of the Lower City. Four superimposed temples were found there (Fig. 4.16), in association with the Stratum 4 rampart and what may have been an urban and residential matrix on the northern end of the tell (Ben-Tor 1989: 213; Zuckerman 2012: 105). The earliest of the temples, in Stratum 3, was dated to the MB III, while the rest retained the original layout with some alterations and date to the LB (Yadin 1972: 75). 4.4.2.2.1 Stratigraphy The first temple was erected in Stratum 3 on top of a raised platform (Fig. 4.17). The outer dimensions measured 20.5 x 18.0 m, the exterior walls were as thick as 2.3 m, and the temple was oriented on a northwestsoutheast axis with the entrance opening toward the south-southeast, essentially in the direction of the acropolis. The layout of the interior featured two areas: a cella constructed as broad-room (13.5 x 8.9 m) and a porch or entrance hall that was composed of three cells – a central room (4.9 x 4.3 m) and flanking rooms (2.7 x 4.25 m) on either side of the central room (Yadin 1972: 75–76; Ben-Tor 1989: 217–219). On a direct axis opposite the entrance, a 4.0 x 2.3 m niche was carved into the center of the cella’s back wall. Two basalt capitals were found on the temple floor, symmetrically distributed on either side of the temple’s central axis. These suggest that two columns once supported the roof of the temple (Yadin 1972: Fig. 18; Ben-Tor 1993: 597). The temple complex had steps made of finely dressed basalt leading up to it from an open courtyard that was paved with small cobblestones. This courtyard extended at least 30 m in front of the temple.
24
Yadin (1972) attributed the temple to the late MB, as echoed by Mazar (1992) and others. Since, Bonfil (1997) has pushed the construction back to the LB I due to findings from subsequent excavations.
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In Stratum 2 (LB I), the temple retained an identical layout, undergoing the raising of the floor level and some minor interior changes (Fig. 4.18). The niche along the cella’s back wall was blocked off by a small wall and an off-centered rectangular installation (possible platform for offerings). A small narrow passage thus led into the old niche area, creating a miniature holy-of-holies (Ben-Tor 1989: 227). No other major structural changes took place in Stratum 2. Major changes were made in Stratum 1B during the LB II (Fig. 4.19). The temple now had a tripartite layout featuring a broad-room cella (8 x 13.3 m), a pro-cella divided into four rooms (a central 5.8 x 5 m room surrounded by two small chambers to the west and a wider one to the east), and an entrance hall or porch (9.8 x 4.8 m). The walls of the temple were 2.1 m thick (only 1.7 m thick in the porch area). The temple retained its symmetrical orientation, and on a direct axis across from the entrance, a 2.1 x 4 m niche was constructed into the cella’s back wall. Two pillar bases were found on the cella’s floor, symmetrically located on either side of the temple’s central axis. Well-dressed basalt orthostats lined all the walls of the cella – hence the name given to this temple, the Orthostat Temple. A lion orthostat found buried in a pit at the temple’s entrance likely once stood at the eastern jamb of the main entrance to the temple (Ben-Tor 1989: 240–247). In the final LB II phase of the Area H temple, Stratum 1A, the temple was partially reconstructed with some minor changes (Fig. 4.20). The cella remained virtually unchanged, although the niche was partially separated from the cella by a newly constructed partition, benches were built along the walls, and at least one silo was discovered along the southeastern corner, if not a second one on the southwestern corner opposite it. Most impressive in this phase was the wealth of cultic finds recovered from the cella floor, including a headless basalt statue, a large basalt basin, libation tables, and an offering table (ibid.: 257–263). The large concentration of these objects in the northern-most room indicates this was in fact the cella. These objects and furnishings may have originated in earlier phases (cf. Section 8.2). 4.4.2.3
Analysis
These temples at Hazor exemplify the migdal temple type and all exhibit the six parameters presented by Mazar. Although not all temples at Bronze Age Hazor were monumental in size, Areas H and A both integrated this temple architecture into their cultic landscape. Two were already established in the MB (the Area A Southern Temple and Area H Stratum 3 temple) while two others were constructed during the LB (Area A’s Northern Temple and Building 7050). Their use from the MB to the end of the LB signifies that they featured significantly into the city’s overall religious landscape. The Area H temple and Building 7050 were both constructed on raised terrain so as to create a physical ascent when entering the temples. Whereas the Area A structures were part of large elite complexes, the Area H temple was not. However, the Area H temple was possibly constructed by the same elites. Bonfil already suggested that the simultaneous use of multiple temples throughout the site might have been the result of premeditated urban planning (Bonfil 1997: 85). The great distance between Area H and A, on opposite ends of the tell, might have been part of an elite-motivated plan to demonstrate the extent of the cult of the rulers over the entire urban landscape, from the farthest south of the tell (Area A) to the farthest north (Area H). Zuckerman pointed out that the Orthostat Temple was oriented towards the acropolis (Zuckerman 2012: 117), the other location with monumental elite temple architecture. This was not accidental. Further, Yadin correctly observed that cultic activity in Area A was integrated into a palatial setting (Yadin 1972: 103). Besides a common architecture type, the shared iconography between the Area H temple and Building 7050 and the common use of orthostats show a close relationship between those two spaces, not just suggesting a shared elite or royal ideology but also opening up the possibility for the use of both spaces during processionals that moved throughout the entire city. Zuckerman in fact attributed these temples and the huge investment in their construction and maintenance to an ever-growing elite piety and as representing material aspects of the royal ideology (Zuckerman 2012: 122). 4.4.3 Megiddo Strata XIV–XI were discussed above in the context of open-air cult areas. In the same location as these earlier temples, a migdal temple was constructed and was in use from Strata X–VIA (MB III–Iron I).
58 4.4.3.1
Chapter 4 Stratigraphy
In Stratum X (MB III), a new temple, Temple 2048, was constructed in area BB above the previous loci of cultic activity (Loud 1948: Figs. 400–404; Epstein 1965: 212, 220–221; Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 180–187; Kempinski 1989: 181–182; Ussishkin 1995: 256; Kleiman et al. 2017: 40). The temple was built on an artificially raised temenos. The temple exterior measured 21.5 x 16.5 m and was composed of a single room with a long-room layout measuring 11.5 x 9.6 m. Opposite the doorway on a direct axis was a niche at the center of the back wall. The temple’s entrance opened up to the north and faced a courtyard which changed in orientation over time. In the earliest phase of the temple, the broad entrance room was flanked on either side by two cells. By Stratum VIII (LB IIA), the eastern cell (if not both) had been transformed into a tower (Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 182). The overall plan remained relatively unchanged until the temple’s final use in the Iron Age I Stratum VIA (Fig. 4.21). 4.4.3.2
Analysis
This temple also meets the criteria posited by Mazar for a common temple type. The introduction of monumental temple architecture to Megiddo’s cultic precinct signifies a significant shift away from the earlier strata’s open-air nature. The temple was imposing, built on a raised surface and at least in its later phases had two towers at the entrance. The temple had multiple phases and was in use from the end of the MB throughout the LB until its final use in the early Iron Age. The initial construction of the temple was coeval with and integrated into the plan of a palace, indicating elite control over the project (Kempinski 1989; cf. Nigro 1994). However, by Stratum IX, the focus of elite control shifted away from Area BB and to Area AA near the city gate. Yet, the cultic precinct retained its sacred nature as civic concerns and infrastructure shifted elsewhere. This long use and reuse of Area BB for religious purposes was in fact part of the longer religious history of the site which witnessed a continually emphasized significance to the precinct, and thus to Megiddo’s overall religious landscape. The orientation of the temple, facing north-northeast, reflects a long tradition of over two millennia – beginning in the EB IB (Finkelstein and Ussishkin 2000a: 55–65; Finkelstein et al. 2006: 36–40; Adams et al. 2014: Figs. 3–6) – in which the monumental temple architecture of Area BB/J had the same northern orientation, possibly opening toward the water source to the north of the tell, ‘Ein el-Qubbi (Finkelstein et al. 2006: 48–50; Adams et al. 2014: 297). 4.4.4 Shechem Shechem is situated in a valley in the central highlands of Samaria along a major crossroad between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. The tell was first settled in the MB I (Campbell 2002: 1–10). The site had a monumental fortification system which was first developed in the MB II Stratum XX (Wright 1965: 57–79, but see Herzog 1997: 111 for MB I; Dever 1987). In the MB III, a migdal temple was constructed in the city’s northwestern acropolis that was bordered on its north and west by the fortification walls and on the east by a temenos wall, Wall 900 (Fig. 4.22).25 Another possible tripartite temple that was constructed into the MB III city wall is not included in this analysis (cf. Dever 1974) 4.4.4.1
Stratigraphy
Strata XVI–XV were the MB phases of the temple (Fig. 4.23). The external dimensions of the temple measured 26.30 x 21.20 m with a mud-brick superstructure standing on stone foundations. The temple itself was constructed upon an artificially raised stone platform. The walls were as thick as 5.1 m, creating an inner chamber of 13.5 x 11.0 m. The temple was constructed with a long-room layout with the entrance opening up to the east (Sellin 1926: 309–316; Bull 1960: 110–113). Column bases lining the room on either side of the central axis were evidence that two rows of columns once supported the roof of the cella (Wright 1965: 89–91).26 The entrance was flanked on either side by two massive tower-like structures. Each tower measured 25
There is also possible evidence of an earlier courtyard precinct with cultic activity from the MB II in area VI below the temple altar, but this is inconclusive and too anomalous to include in this analysis. A further possible LB cult area with a maṣṣebah, altar and vessels was found in area IX. 26 Fragments of fluted columns found at the site have been assigned to the MB III temple. If this is correct, this would draw an interesting connection between the temple and Egyptian influences, from which fluted columns are known in contexts within Middle Kingdom rock-cut tombs with a terminus at the end of the MB (Campbell 2002: 150–151)
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7.0 m by 5.0 m and the space between the two created a rectangular entrance hall (8 m wide) which was on a direct axis through the entrance to the back wall of the temple (Campbell 2002). In the open courtyard in front of the temple, an altar was found 6.5 m from the temple entrance; the altar measured 2.2 x 1.65 m and stood 35 cm high, and was approached by a sloping ramp that was anchored on top of the temenos wall (Sellin 1926: 312; but see Campbell 2002: 150, 183–184 re-dating this altar to the LB and discerning an earlier MB altar about 4.2 m square). Two maṣṣebot were placed flanking the entrance either during the end of the MB or early LB. It is still unclear whether these belong to the original MB migdal, in which case they would signify a shift in the entrance from direct to bent-axis (Campbell 1993: 1349–1350), or to the LB temple which had a central axis that was slightly shifted south from the original (Campbell 2002: 150, 181–184). The later stratigraphy is more difficult to discern, with an eventual Iron Age granary built atop the temple. It appears though that the temple was rebuilt in its final two phases (Temples 2B-A of Strata XIV–XIII and XII–XI, respectively) with a broad-room layout, thus shifting from its original interior floor plan. All that was found of the LB sequence were remains of some wall and foundation fragments and few remaining segments of a plastered floor, suggesting an intermediate structure between the MB migdal temple and the Iron Age granary. This temple, based on the posited superimposed granary, was projected to have a broadroom layout measuring about 12.5 x 16 m (ibid.: 176–181). A raised platform was situated along the cella’s back wall on a direct axis across from temple’s entrance, and it is likely in these LB strata that the maṣṣebot stood at the temple entrance. 4.4.4.2
Analysis
At Shechem, like at Megiddo, Hazor and Ugarit, a migdal temple was established at the end of the MB. The two phases of the long-room MB III temple stood atop the MB acropolis near the city gate, fortifications, palace, and possible additional Temple 7300 (Campbell 2002: 151–154). The temple met five of the six parameters laid out by Mazar, lacking a distinguished niche or platform in the back of the cella. Its imposing size, massive walls and artificially elevated platform upon which it was constructed undoubtedly made an impression of monumentality to those who would have seen it. The acropolis itself was on raised terrain enclosed by a massive cyclopean retaining wall (Wall A) and which had a well-built multi-chambered gate leading to the temple area. All of these indicate elite control over the greater acropolis area. In fact, the settlement of Shechem, apparently localized to the acropolis itself, contrasts from Hazor, Megiddo and Ugarit, which were urban centers with extensive settlement beyond the acropolis. If this assessment is correct, the migdal temple at Shechem would have been strictly elite in nature, lacking the complex nature of the other temples which were situated within extensive and diverse urban landscapes. The later Building 5700, if indeed a later LB temple built atop the migdal, had a podium against its back wall which served as the focal point of the cult in the temple’s interior space. Thus, the acropolis at Shechem shows a history that emphasizes the cultic nature of Area V from at least the MB III through the end of the LB. 4.4.5 Pella Pella is located on the foothills of the eastern side of the Jordan Valley, just north of Tell el-Hayyat and south of Tel Kitan, about 30 km south of the Sea of Galilee. The settlement was first settled in the MB I and was a major polity in the Beth Shean/Jordan Valley with well-built fortifications (Maeir 2010: 52; cf. Ward 2016: 77–82). In Area XXXII, a sequence of six superimposed temples has been excavated, spanning the early MB I through the Iron Age II and thus demonstrating a long tradition of reusing the same cultic space throughout the settlement history of the site (Fig. 4.24). The chronology of the temple sequence is as follows: Phase 1 dates to the MB I, Phase 2 dates to the MB I/II transition, Phase 3 dates to the MB III–MB III/LB I transition, Phase 4 to the MB III/LB I–LB IB/LB IIA, Phase 5 is the LB IIB, and Phase 6 is the Iron Age (Ward 2016: 85–106). Unless otherwise specified, the temple measurements were taken from Bourke 2012: 195, Table 1. 4.4.5.1
Stratigraphy
The first two temples (Phases 1 and 2) were largely reconstructed due to the poor condition of their remains and their limited exposure (Bourke 2007: 5). The earliest temple in the MB I, the “Green Mud-Brick Temple,” was a symmetrically-oriented, single-celled, mud-brick structure measuring about 9 x 7 m with a plastered floor and an entrance opening to the east. The second temple in the sequence, the “Brown Mud-Brick Tem-
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ple,” was slightly larger (10 x 8 m). The MB I/II temple was also symmetrically oriented with its entrance facing the east and was constructed of mud-brick walls. The Phase 3 temple was constructed directly above the previous two mud-brick temples. It was the first of the sequence to have stone foundations. With stone walls 2–3 m thick, this temple had external dimensions measuring 24.5 x 20 m (Ward 2016: 98), was constructed with a long-room layout, was symmetrically oriented along a direct axis from the entrance to the back wall, and was oriented with the entrance opening to the east. Two antae protruded eastwards flanking the temple entrance with estimated dimensions measuring 2 x 1.5 m.27 The temple opened into a paved courtyard to its east. Associated with the temple in this phase was a pink mud-brick building (4 x 4 m) located 8 m from the southwest corner of the temple. Many cultic vessels were found deposited inside (Bourke 2012: 164).28 The Phase 4 temple saw further modifications, creating the most full-fledged example of a migdal temple at the site. Its exterior dimensions were expanded to 32 x 34 m and an internal cross-wall was constructed, separating the cella from the central hall. The temple entrance was also reconstructed. The wall was widened to nearly 3 m thick and the antae were transformed into massive piers flanking the entrance; these piers stood as imposing (hollow) towers made of large limestone boulders. The open courtyard area was also repaved with fieldstone cobbling. Parts of the temenos wall were also exposed (Ward 2016: 101–104). In Phase 5, a stone-walled temple with a long-room layout measuring 18 x 12 m was constructed above the earlier Phase 4 temple. This temple was no longer a migdal, with markedly thinner walls (1.5 m thick) and no antae flanking the entrance. The building was composed of two rooms: a pillared central hall and wide cella. The entrance was significantly narrower than the previous temples, and the passage from the hall to the cella passed through a raised threshold. The cella walls were lined with benches. Four pillar bases were found in the cella (two in the room proper and two in the entranceway) and three from the central hall. A favissa rich in cultic finds was discovered beneath the raised threshold between the hall and the cella. Foundation, votive offering, and destruction deposits were discovered from the temple demonstrating the wealth of cultic objects from the temple precinct in the LB II. 4.4.5.2
Analysis
Phases 1–4 at Pella demonstrate a progression in symmetrical temple in antis architecture. The earliest two phases were temples with antae but were not yet on the monumental scale of the migdal temple type. The Phase 3 and 4 temples, however, exhibited significant expansions and demonstrate most of the characteristic migdal features, lacking only a niche or pedestal along the back wall of the cella. This might be the result of subsequent destruction or intrusions from the later phases, or alternatively as the excavators have suggested, a theological choice (Bourke 2012). The Pella Phase 4 temple, established sometime during the MB/LB transition (likely contemporary to Hazor Area H temple Stratum 3/2, Area A Southern Temple Stratum XV, Megiddo Temple 2048 Stratum X/IX, and Shechem’s migdal), was the largest such temple in MB/LB Canaan. Pella’s regional significance clearly had an impact on the massive size of the temple. In fact, the expansion of civic construction projects at Pella coincided with the expansion in monumentality of the temple, until Phase 4 when the temple reached its largest size and other major changes to the settlement’s architecture took place (Ward 2016: 77–81). This included a monumental courtyard palace that was established just 5 m away from the temple during the late MB–MB/LB transition, demonstrating the close relationship between temple cult and the Pella rulers or elites (Bourke, personal communication, 2017). Immediately after the peak of monumental architecture in Phase 4, the Phase 5 non-monumental, symmetrical pillared temple was in use during the LB II (Bourke 2012: 171–184). 4.4.6 Tel Haror Tel Haror is a 150 dunam site situated alongside Naḥal Gerar and sitting at a major route between Beer Sheva and Gaza in the western Negev. Extensive settlement and evidence of fortification was established in the MB
27
The exact dimensions of the antae are still undetermined since only the southern one was partially excavated. The vessels from the building included miniature offering vessels such as bowls, jugs and funnels, an alabaster flask, a gypsum cup, and a rams-headed handled bowl (Bourke 2012: Fig. 6), as well as burnished globular and cylindrical juglets, carinated bowls and fine buff platter bowls (Bourke 2012: 164). 28
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III (updated chronology in Nahshoni 2015, and Nahshoni, personal communication, 2017; Oren 1997: 257; Wolff 1991: 507–8; Oren 1986: 58–61). A cultic precinct was established in Area K, located at the southwest portion of the Lower City and controlling a commanding view of Naḥal Gerar. A migdal temple and its intricate courtyard system were in use through three strata (Fig. 4.25). Following the most up-to-date stratigraphy, Strata VI–IV all date to the MB III (Nahshoni 2015: 96–105, Table 2). 4.4.6.1
Stratigraphy
The temple, which remained largely unchanged throughout Strata VI–IV, had exterior dimensions measuring 9 x 15 m. The structure was symmetrically oriented on a northwest-southeast axis with the entrance on the southeastern wall. The rectangular cella was constructed as a 5.5 x 7.5 m long-room, with 2.5 m thick mudbrick walls. Three sets of stone steps led up to a raised portico at the temple’s entrance. The portico was flanked on both sides by large buttressing towers. These flanking structures created a corridor in the center of the temple’s entrance that measured 2 x 4 m and that led into the temple proper (Katz 2009: 31–35). In the center of the cella there was a round depression (favissa?) that was likely for cultic purposes; however, it was mostly destroyed by a later Turkish trench from World War I (ibid.: 31). Similarly, the back wall of the cella was badly damaged so it is unclear whether or not the temple featured a niche or podium. Excavations uncovered major changes throughout the strata in the surrounding courtyard area. The temple opened east towards a courtyard that stood largely to the east and north of the temple. In the temple courtyard, a 1 x 2 m basin was found just east of the temple entrance, surrounded by heavily charred mud-brick and plaster lining and other evidence of cultic offerings (ibid.: 32). Many stone benches, favissae and a monumental donkey burial were attested throughout the temenos (Klenck 2002: 82; Bar-Oz et al. 2013). In Strata V and IV, the courtyard expanded in size and complexity. A more clearly defined temenos wall was constructed which surrounded the sacred precinct – a 1.2 m thick mud-brick wall laid upon stone foundations. A number of small chambers were constructed around the courtyard area, one which was furnished with benches and had niches for placing offerings. Hearths and favissae were also uncovered around the courtyards (Herzog 1997: 129) in addition to a possible 1.5 m square mud-brick altar (installation 8269) that was erected north of the temple in Stratum V (Klenck 2002: 35–36; Katz 2009: 35–39). 4.4.6.2
Analysis
The temple at Tel Haror was a migdal temple, displaying all the shared characteristics of the other migdal temples with the exception of a niche or podium against the back wall. This last detail was not clarified due to later intrusions disturbing the temple’s back wall. The temple was imposing and raised, with stairs ascending to its entrance as was noted in other migdal temples. As a number of studies have indicated (e.g. Brandl et al. 2014), the main focal points of cultic activity and ritual at the site were likely in the courtyards surrounding the temple. This temple was established during the earliest MB phase detected thus far at the site, indicating the importance of cultic activities in the centralized cultic space at the site already from the initial establishment of the settlement. The settlement itself, a fortified site established in the MB III, was part of the Sharuhen bloc, a series of fortified sites in the Negev related to the zenith of Hyksos rulership in Egypt (Oren 1997: 253–255, Fig. 8.1). This bloc of sites was not solely defensive in nature; the settlements were also established due to the close economic and political relations between south Canaan and Hyksos Egypt in the MB III (ibid.: 255–257). As such, the migdal temple at Tel Haror might have served a combination of local needs and regional needs of the surrounding settlements. Additionally, the establishment of a large migdal temple at the Hyksos capital of Tell el-Dab‘a further strengthens the association between Tel Haror, Sharuhen, and the Hyksos. The Tel Haror temple complex demonstrates that this temple type was found not only in the Jordan and Jezreel Valleys and nearby central highlands, but also further south in the western Negev. Like the other mentioned sites, Tel Haror was an urban and fortified settlement; its temple therefore signifies the southernmost and smallest of the urban Levantine migdals.
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4.4.7 Tell el-Dab‘a The Hyksos capital, Tell el-Dab‘a (Avaris), also had a migdal temple (Temple III) within a multi-temple cultic precinct (Bietak 1997: 105).29 The Area A/II precinct was established in the MB II on the eastern part of the tell. In addition to at least three different temples within the precinct, there existed cemeteries with mortuary chapels, a house or banquet hall, an open courtyard (potentially lined with oak trees), and multiple favissae. Temple II shows architectural influences from the Levant as well (Bietak 2003a: 16, 19, Fig. 2–5). The temple precinct was in use throughout Strata F–E/1 and possibly later Strata D/3 and D/2. Strata F and E/3 date to the MB II. Strata E/2 and E/1 correspond to the MB III. Strata D/3 and D/2 correspond to the MB III–LB I transition (following Bietak 1997: 90, Fig. 4.3). 4.4.7.1
Stratigraphy
Temple III was first constructed in Stratum F-E/3 and served as the main temple of the precinct (Fig. 4.26). The temple was a massive tripartite building, measuring 33.7 x 21.5 m and was constructed of mud brick (Bietak 1997: Fig. 4.20). Located in the southeast of the cultic precinct, the temple was oriented toward the northwest and had a broad-room cella (13 x 8 m). The cella was surrounded on the northern and southern sides by 4 m-wide double walls and the back wall on the east was 5 m wide. The cella had a deep 8 m-wide niche centered along the back wall on a direct axis across from the entrance to the chamber. Between the entrance to the temple and the cella was a narrow corridor, 4 m wide (Bietak 1997: 104–108, Fig. 4.20). In Strata E/2–E1, a 4 m wide entrance hall was constructed at the northern end of the temple, creating a third room. The northern wall of the entrance hall was also expanded 3 m and three entrances were added (Bietak 1991: 39–42). The temple thus became tripartite at this point. The temple entrance opened into a large courtyard. A 3 x 2 m freestanding altar made of mud-brick stood 15 m in front of the temple entrance; remains of ash and bone were recovered from the surface and surrounding area (Bietak 1986: 250). Traces of charred acorn were also recovered from the courtyard in pits and on the altar. This is possible evidence, as posited by Bietak, that sacred trees (acorn) once stood in the courtyard next to the altar. 4.4.7.2
Analysis
Temple III exhibiting all the migdal temple parameters except for the antae buttressing the entrance. A number of peculiarities were attested at this massive urban migdal temple, which was second in size only to that at Pella Phase 4. Its cella was according to a broad-room layout, other rare examples being the temples at Hazor Area H, Ugarit, and possibly LB Shechem. The construction of the stepped-niche was also unique, unparalleled by any other site. Additionally, the addition of the entrance hall with three entrances was unique in the Levant. No other temples had entrance chambers with multiple portals of access. These access points suggest that multiple individuals were capable of entering the structure simultaneously, somewhat breaking down the hierarchic relations normally formed when only one entrance controlled by the temple personnel is present. However, the continued penetration into the inner chamber of the temple remained a single-entrance orientation which would have limited the access and flow of traffic into and out of the cella. This suggests the entrance chamber function as more of a communal space, one that has not yet been detected at Levantine migdal temples. In contrast to other temples, Temple III therefore had an additional zone in which individuals could engage in ritual and consumption. Further, the temple was oriented facing the northwest which contrasts from the Canaanite norm of eastward facing temples, possibly oriented toward the setting sun and signifying an association with the cult of the dead. Bietak has suggested the temple was dedicated to a cosmic god, while the courtyard and associated acorn tree were evidence of a tree cult, possibly of Asherah (Bietak 1996: 36). Situated in the cultic precinct of a large urban site, this temple was but one of a number of other temples mainly of Egyptian form (ibid.: 36–48; Bietak 1997: 105–107; Bietak 2003a). Thus, these temples addressed different needs, where a number of mortuary temples were associated with burials, while Temple III was 29
Tell el-Dab‘a is located to the east of the eastern most branch of the Nile Delta and is the largest MB site known to date in the delta region. It was strategically located near the onset of the land route into Canaan, the Way of Horus (Via Maris) and was also a major maritime hub with access to the Mediterranean Sea and to Upper Egypt (Bietak 1991: 27– 32).
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constructed in typical elite Levantine form, emphasizing the relationship between that temple and the Hyksos rulership’s need to maintain certain Levantine traditions.
4.5
Rural Migdal Temples
This study follows Faust’s definition of rural settlements: a site whose population was relatively small compared to contemporary towns and cities; a site with a small size or low occupation density; a site with a general lack of public buildings (other than temples) and fortifications; and a site exhibiting a general lack of complex social stratification and limited specialization and trade (Faust 2005: 106). In two instances, rural farmsteads had migdal temples: Tell el-Hayyat and Tel Kitan. Thus, migdal temples were not solely an urban phenomenon. In fact, although most of these monumental temples were introduced into Canaanite urban landscapes late in the MB, at least one prototype was possibly established as early as the MB I, at Tell elHayyat. 4.5.1 Tell el-Hayyat Tell el-Hayyat was a small, unfortified, agricultural village (5 dunam) in the Jordan Valley, 2 km east of the Jordan River and about 7 km southwest of Pella (Falconer et al. 1984; Falconer and Magness-Gardiner 1993: 591; Falconer and Fall 2006: 1–6, 18–24). A sequence of temples was established at the site in the MB (Fig. 4.27). Phase 5 corresponds to the MB I. Similarly, Phase 4 is later in the MB I. Phase 3 dates to the MB II, and Phase 2, the last use of the temple, dates to the MB III (following Falconer and Fall 2006: 33, Table 3.1). 4.5.1.1
Stratigraphy
In Phase 5, the temple was nearly square, measuring 6.1 x 6.7 m, had two antae projecting from the entrance, was symmetrical and was oriented along an east-west axis with the entrance facing the east. A wall surrounded the temple precinct as well (Falconer 1995: 406, Fig. 6: A. Phase 5; Falconer and Fall 2006: 87–88). In Phase 4, a slightly larger temple (7.6 x 7.6 m) was rebuilt on top of the earlier temple and retained the same original east-west orientation. Constructed of mud-brick, this second temple showed an elaborate insetoffset niching along the sides and entrance of the temple and retained the antae flanking the entrance (ibid.). Inside the temple itself, the excavators identified a stepped mud-brick installation along the north wall on the east corner and benches lining the wall. A new temenos wall was constructed, separating the temple precinct from other structures located to its south (Falconer and Fall 2006: 88–95). Immediately outside and slightly to the north of the temple entrance stood six maṣṣebot made of river stones ranging in height from 0.5 m to 1 m tall, generally of the same shape, and in association with additional stones that were found lying flat on the ground (Falconer and Fall 2006: 93). In Phase 3, the temple was once again reconstructed; however, only the stone foundations of this building remain. The general orientation and dimensions of the temple were retained. The antae flanking the entrance of the temple were enlarged (Falconer 1995: Fig. 5) and directly opposite the entrance a niche was centered against the back wall. The temenos wall on the east side seems to have been pushed further back during this phase. This latter development opened up the courtyard outside the entrance of the temple. The maṣṣebot from Phase 4 were rearranged into groups in the shape of an arc facing the front of the temple in this newly opened up courtyard (Falconer and Fall 2006: 96–99). In Phase 2, the cella was enlarged to 8.3 x 10.2 m with walls 2 m thick. The temple retained its original east-west orientation with a long-room layout, and as in the previous phase, a niche was located in the center of the back wall aligned on a direct axis from the entrance. In this phase, three single-course stone walls were extended from the southern wall of the temple to the temenos wall as extra support for the monumental tower constructed in this phase (Magness-Gardiner and Falconer 1994: 139; Falconer and Fall 2006: 99–101). 4.5.1.2
Analysis
The temple sequence at Tell el-Hayyat demonstrates long continual usage of the same cultic precinct. The earliest phases were small temples in antis. During the last two phases, the temple resembled the migdal temples from the larger fortified urban sites in the region. In Phase 2, the temple exhibited all six characteristic parameters of the migdal temple type. Thus, the development of a small rural shrine (MB I) into a more
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monumental temple (MB II/III) can be traced at the site. This phenomenon was similarly witnessed at nearby Tel Kitan. Tell el-Hayyat seems to have been an autonomous rural MB settlement, one that first appeared with a small, well-built temple prior to the establishment of more numerous domestic structures in the later phases at the site (Falconer and Fall 2006: 123). Faust suggested the site was an investment colony and the temple was an urban import (Faust 2005: 117). Further, the site was likely a subordinate hinterland settlement within the nearby city-state of Pella (Bourke 2006: 247). The temple played an essential role in the development of and activities in the MB rural settlement. The role of the temple within its rural settlement and its relation to other temples is dealt with in further detail in Section 13.2.1. 4.5.2 Tel Kitan Tel Kitan was a small rural settlement on the west bank of the Jordan River near the mouth of Naḥal Tavor 12 km north of Beth Shean. The site was continuously settled from the MB I until the LB I (Eisenberg 1977: 77–78). Like Tell el-Hayyat, it retained its small rural nature throughout the MB. A sequence of three superimposed temples in Strata V–III were uncovered, spanning from the MB II to the LB I. Very little was published from the excavations so the extent of the settlement, the nature of private homes in domestic quarters, and the relationship between the temple and its surroundings is unknown. Stratum V dates to the MB II, Stratum IV to the MB III, and Stratum III to the LB I. 4.5.2.1
Stratigraphy
The temple in Stratum V was a small symmetrical rectangular structure (exterior dimensions were 5.5 x 6.9 m) constructed according to a long-room megaron plan (Fig. 4.28). The dimensions of the single-roomed interior were 4.3 x 4.6 m, almost a perfect square. Low-rising mud-brick benches lined the temple’s interior walls and four stone slabs found scattered inside the temple probably once functioned as bases for pillars. The temple was oriented opening eastward toward an open courtyard. Flanking the entrance on both sides were antae and two columns once stood on either side of the entrance as well (Eisenberg 1977: 78). Two rows of maṣṣebot made of river stones stood in the temple courtyard 5 m away: two larger stones in the back row standing 0.3–0.4 m above the dirt floor and eight smaller ones in the front row. The maṣṣebot were mainly plain except for one anomaly: the central maṣṣebah was a 0.5 m tall sculpted stone in the form of a naked female with arms supporting the breasts and an emphasized pubic triangle. This first temple and the courtyard maṣṣebot strongly resemble the early temples at Tell el-Hayyat. In Stratum IV a larger temple with a long-room layout (14.3 x 11.5 m) was constructed above and around the previous temple, preserving its remains and retaining the original east-facing orientation of the temple (Fig. 4.29). The temple’s mud-brick walls sat on a solid stone foundation. The entrance was still in the middle of the eastern wall and the walls of the temple were as wide as 2.6 m. It appears that the antae disappeared in this phase. A thick wall was found south of the temple at the base of the tell, possibly a temenos wall. Houses were attached to the exterior of this wall and thus it appears the tell itself in this stratum was reserved for cultic purposes (Eisenberg 1977: 78–79). Although the maṣṣebot were not included in the temple precinct, they were left untouched and preserved in situ. In Stratum III, a new temple with new orientation was constructed above the previous temples. It consisted of a large hall, two side rooms in the south, and a courtyard to the east. The entrance appears to be to the north. Cultic vessels and precious jewelry were found scattered around the temple floor. This temple differed from the previous phase’s migdal layout as it was neither symmetrical nor monumental. 4.5.2.2
Analysis
The first temple at Tel Kitan resembles the Phase 5 and Phase 4 temples from early Tell el-Hayyat. By Stratum IV (MB III) the much larger temple exhibited a number of the migdal temple features with its monumental walls and symmetrical layout. No cultic niche or podium against the back wall was found – possibly as a result of the limited excavations – nor was there any sign of towers buttressing the temple entrance. However, this diminutive version of a migdal temple seems to reflect the diminutive size of the small settlement it served, similar to the case at Tell el-Hayyat. By the LB I, a new temple with a different layout was constructed, demonstrating a shift in cultic traditions at the site. While the excavator identified the temple as
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the cult center of the site (Eisenberg 1977: 80), Faust has suggested the site was subservient to some other urban center and that the temple, in fact, owned the land (Faust 2005: 117). Thus, it is clear that the migdal temple not only formed part of the urban landscape of Canaan, but also part of the rural landscape as well. Together with the temple from Tell el-Hayyat, the Tel Kitan temple serves as an excellent example of a rural migdal. In the case of Tell el-Hayyat, the robust stratigraphic data from the MB provides immense amounts of information about the relationship between temple and domestic quarters and the development of rural Canaanite cult during the MB (Maeir 2010: 53, Table 6).
4.6
Discussion: Migdal Temples in the Southern Levant and Beyond
4.6.1 Syrian Origins of the Migdal Temple Form Migdal temples have been discussed extensively by scholars – past and present – dealing with Canaanite religion (see Dever 1976, 1987; Mazar 1992; Ilan 1995, 2003; Nakhai 1997, 2001; Margueron 1997; Klenck 2002). Their roots lie to the north in Syria, where both broad-room and long-room layouts were attested as early as the EB at sites such as Ebla, Tell Al-Rawda, Tell Qara Quzaq, Tell Halawa, Tell Kabir, Tell Matin and Tell Chuera (Matthiae 2007, 2010; Castel 2010; see additionally Kempinski 1992a: 197; Mazar 1992: 167–169; Yasur-Landau et al. 2012: 19–24). Defining features of these sacred structures – the antae – had their origins in megaron architecture from Anatolia. Buildings with two antae buttressing the entrances of buildings were established at sites such as Troy in the EB, first in domestic structures and later in larger public and palatial complexes (Warner 1979).30 Syrian migdal temples continued to be attested in the MB at sites such as Mari,31 Aleppo,32 Ebla,33 Alalakh,34 Ugarit,35 and possibly at Kamid el-Loz.36 Some of these sites, such as Ebla, had multiple contemporary Syrian temples distributed throughout the urban landscape (Figs. 4.30–4.36). The largest known migdal temple to date was discovered at Aleppo, measuring 42 x 42 m (Kohlmeyer 2012: 57–59, Fig. 2). 4.6.2 Assessing the Role of Migdal Temples in the Southern Levant Returning to the research questions, this analysis has demonstrated two categories of migdal temples appeared in Canaan’s cultic landscape during the MB – urban and rural. These temples appeared mainly in the late MB III, although some were built earlier in the MB II (e.g. the Southern Temple at Hazor, and Temple III at Tell el-Dab‘a) and others seem to have had yet earlier examples of small symmetrical temples (in antis) constructed prior to their enlargement into migdal temples (e.g. Tell el-Hayyat, Tel Kitan, Pella). In many cases, there was long continued use of the same space and architecture type lasting centuries into the LB and in a few cases into the Iron Age I. Migdal temples represented an architectural tradition that contrasted from earlier open-air cultic sites in MB Canaan. Symbolically, it appears the size of these temples reflected the relative importance of the religious-political domain, and thus the largest examples have been attested at the larger urban settlements (Stager 1999: 236). Regarding temple location, it seems that while migdal temples played a diverse role in southern Levantine cultic contexts, they were generally part of a non-coastal tradition of elites integrating standardized temple architecture into elite-controlled precincts. They were most heavily concentrated in the Jordan Valley. These traditions were mimicked in one form or another at smaller, rural sites as well. At large urban settlements such as Hazor, there was need for multiple contemporary migdal temples, while at the comparatively small fortified sites of Shechem and Tel Haror, for example, only one well-built and towering temple was established. The interest of rulers in constructing cultic space in palatial settings (Hazor, Megiddo, Shechem, Pella) is particularly evident in the latter half of the MB. Thus, at large urban sites, migdal temples related to their surroundings in a very different way than at rural sites. Urban migdal temples were part of a broader urban plan of constructed edifices, while rural migdal temples were typically the only visible official buildings and 30
For discussions of megara in the southern Levant, see Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 185; Herzog 1980: 84, 1997: 56–58; Ben-Tor 1992: 104–105; Mazar 1992; and Yasur-Landau et al. 2012. 31 See Margueron 2004. 32 For the newly excavated temple at Aleppo, see Kohlmeyer 2012. 33 See Matthiae 1980; 1997: 381, 387–388. 34 See Woolley 1955: 43–59. 35 See Schaeffer 1935: 155–156; Yon 2006: 106–115. 36 See Metzger 2012, for temple MB phases.
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institutions. In both contexts, these temples were imposing and left impressions upon the ritual participants. However, in urban settings, these temples appear to have been significantly raised up and more impressive than the rural counterparts. Further, as I will show in Section 13.2.1, rural temples were much more integrated into all aspects of the settlement’s existence (e.g. economic, food supply), while urban temples likely functioned with a much stricter cultic goal under the political control of elites. From the above discussion of Syrian temples, one possible conclusion is that this temple architecture was imported into Canaan from Syria. In this manner, the construction of migdal temples could be seen as a form of local elites emulating Syrian rulers and traditions. These temples were either introduced via the Jordan Valley, where the heaviest concentration of migdal temples was found, or possibly early on via the Mediterranean Sea to the site of Tell el-Dab‘a. In the latter case, it would seem that multiple forces were at play in altering the cultic landscape of Canaan: influences coming from the Hyksos in the south as well as influences from Syria funneling through the Beq‘a Valley into the Jordan Valley in the north. However, since the earliest examples of these temples were found in rural settlements such as Tell el-Hayyat, it is possible to view the region as a cultural continuum with the north. Thus, migdal forms were not actually imported but were rather already architectural traditions known in the region that were put into play at an early period in the MB. From an archaeological perspective, however, there is a tendency to focus on urban settlements. When this happens, part of the picture – the non-urban populace, settlements and traditions – are overlooked. Thus, the introduction of migdal architecture into the urban landscape, which does occur later in the MB, might have been a result of elites integrating local traditions into more monumental urban forms. In addition to migdal temples, other temples of non-standardized form were constructed in the MB as well.
4.7
Other less well-defined Temples from the MB
A further category of temples, those of small shrines situated within smaller rural agricultural settlements, also existed (Faust 2005). This includes the small shrine at Givat Sharett and three structures from rural settlements in the Jerusalem area (Naḥal Repha’im, Manaḥat and Al-Walajah). Kfar Rupin is excluded from this analysis because it was found completely denuded of all finds (Gophna 1979: 29–30). Additionally, the courtyard structure outside Ashkelon’s MB III city gate is addressed in this section. 4.7.1 Givat Sharett Givat Sharett was a small agricultural settlement, unfortified and in existence for only a single period. The site was dated to the MB III (Epstein 1972; Bahat 1973: 247; 1993: 253; Nakhai 2001: 98) and was well planned, with a central hilltop with comparatively larger public buildings than the site’s lower terrace (see Bahat 1975: 65–6). 4.7.1.1
Stratigraphy
One of the hilltop structures appears to have functioned as a locus for cultic activity (Fig. 4.37). Composed of two rooms, its entrance hall was a rectangle (6 x 3 m) with the entrance at the east and low benches along the long walls. The inner room was square (4 x 4 m) and had a platform along its back wall at the western end. The platform was constructed of a fill of stones with a single high pillar standing 15 cm above the rest in the center (Bahat 1975: 66–67). The assemblage from the inner room and platform included a number of cultic vessels: miniature vessels, a seven-cupped bowl, chalices, clay pipes that Bahat suggested were for burning incense, and fragment of a zoomorphic quadruped vessel (Bahat 1993: 254; 1975: 67). 4.7.1.2
Analysis
The rural structure at Givat Sharett evades any clear standardized floor plan, although the layout does appear to be in accordance with the notion of a structure with multiple units, in this case an entrance hall and back cella. The benches along the walls and the platform along the back wall are suggestive of a local shrine. The most convincing evidence, however, comes from the objects of distinct religious significance found concentrated within the structure. Some of these types are known from cultic contexts at other MB Canaanite sites, and at the site, they were found exclusively within the structure and not in the domestic quarters. Hence, whereas the migdal temples could be identified as such due to architectural features, the smaller village shrine
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of Givat Sharett can be deduced from the cultic nature of the building’s vessels. Within its rural context, the Givat Sharett temple served as a focal point for communal ritual. 4.7.2 Naḥal Repha’im Eisenberg excavated Naḥal Repha’im from 1980–1990 and published preliminary data in an article in Qadmoniot (Eisenberg 1993). The site extends about 50 dunam. Three main strata of settlement activity were detected in the excavations: IBA, MB II, and Iron II–modern terracing. During the IBA, three domestic structures housed maṣṣebot, one in Area 1100, one in Area 100, and another in Area 1000 (Eisenberg 1993: 86– 87). During the MB II, many well-preserved multi-roomed domestic structures were preserved. To date, the assemblages have not been fully processed, although they are currently being analyzed by Helena Roth. 4.7.2.1
Stratigraphy
The temple (Fig. 4.38) was located in Area 500 (ibid.: 91–92). Only the foundations of the structure remain, but from the large cluster of stones from the wall collapse, it has been suggested that the structure was a modified megaron: the north ante extended outwards from the entrance of the main structure but the south ante was instead replaced by a small room added to the south. The structure is bipartite with a long-room layout and measures 10 x 5.7 m. The floor of the interior was stone-lined and the threshold at the entrance had a wide step ascending toward the somewhat raised structure. The auxiliary room abutting the entrance on the south was 0.8 m lower than the rest of the structure. A few segments of a wall located ca. 6 m to the northeast of the structure might demarcate the boundary of the temenos in that direction. The only finds from the structure come from the auxiliary room. They include miniature vessels, goblets, bowls, sherds of cultic stands, and animal bones (ibid.: 92). This was the single richest assemblage from the site. 4.7.2.2
Analysis
The building was interpreted as a temple based on the following: its orientation toward the east, the resemblance to megaron architecture and the unique assemblage not paralleled in the other structures from the site (Eisenberg 1993: 91–94; Faust 2005: 110). Although this structure might have functioned as a village shrine, there are a few issues with this interpretation. According to Eisenberg, the piers at a structure’s entrance that faces the east is indicative of temple status. However, he compares to cultic buildings at Nahariya and Givat Sharett, both of which did not have antae and Nahariya which did not face east nor was it bipartite (Givat Sharett was). Another issue with the interpretation is that the architecture is not in fact that of a megaron but either an altered megaron structure, or simply a building that has a pier along the north wall that recalls piers in megaron structures. No parallels with an annex built into the entrance and pier of the main edifice are known to date in the southern Levant. Also, temples are usually constructed at high points – here, the building is in fact the lowest point. Finally, not enough is known about the assemblage, but the miniature vessels, goblets and stands could indeed be indicators of cultic activities. However, they were recovered from the side room, not the main hall or entrance hall, and so little more can be determined about the activities inside the building itself. 4.7.3 Manaḥat At Manaḥat (Malḥa), sedentary activity appears to have begun during the IBA. After a gap in settlement, activity once again was established during the MB II. There is limited evidence that during the LB II Building 1028 was reused. The site has later evidence of activities during the Roman and post-Roman periods (Edelstein 1993; Edelstein et al. 1998: 3–5, 14). 4.7.3.1
Stratigraphy
Building 106 (Fig. 4.39) was possibly cultic in nature (Edelstein et al. 1998: 15–16, Plan 3.2). It is unique to the site during the MB II, consisting of one long rectangular room (7.5 x 12.5 m). The walls were 1.0–1.2 m wide. Eight buttresses lined the north and south long walls of the room (only six of which were partially preserved), dividing the room into six equally spaced and symmetrical cells, each ca. 1.5 x 2–2.5 m, three along the north wall and three along the south wall. These small rooms confined the central interior space of the main room to 3.0 x 11.0 m. The floor was composed of chalky soil a few centimeters thick and overlaid
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pockets of terra rossa and bedrock. Two standing stones of different size and height were found standing, in situ, near the entrance of Building 106. They were located immediately in front of the south wall of the building appearing to somewhat awkwardly block the entrance into Locus 118 (the southwestern cell). A courtyard (Loci 108, 110, 117) with a paved white floor and the remains of four centrally situated rooms lay to the west Building 106. The building was found largely devoid of pottery and small finds, and the few vessels that were recovered were generally in a poor state (Edelstein et al. 1998: 15; Edelstein 1998: 37–47, Figs. 4.4–4.9). A bell and a pomegranate were found in a terrace fill near the building (Milevski 1998: 98, Fig. 8.2). 4.7.3.2
Analysis
Edelstein et al. (ibid.: 16) point to the possible cultic nature of the room due to the following: the peculiar plan of the building in contrast to other structures at the site; the two standing stones – possibly maṣṣebot; and the nature of the associated finds. Although the structure is more complex than other structures at the site, nothing specifically indicates its cultic orientation. For example, no benches line the walls, no cultic niche was indicated, and the layout bears little resemblance to other cultic structures from MB Canaan. The complex appears closer in form to the Ashkelon courtyard complex which today is considered a possible bet marzeah, but not a temple in the traditional sense. In other words, there is nothing remarkable that stands out in the architecture of the structure. If it was a local shrine, it did not function as such due to any special or standardized form of architecture. Further, maṣṣebot have been found in many contexts, not just cultic (e.g. Garfinkel 2009). They themselves should not be used as the litmus test for defining a space as a temple. Regarding the finds, no assemblages can be reconstructed, and the fragments of vessels that were recovered do not demonstrate any particular special activity types. Of the six miniature vessels recovered from the site (Edelstein 1998: Fig. 4.3:24–29), none were recovered from the Building 106 area specifically (see similarly Uziel and Avissar Lewis 2013). One note worth mentioning, however, is that the building was constructed atop an earlier pit that was found empty. Temples atop deposits and pits are well-attested phenomena in the southern Levant; this could theoretically be a similar instance of that practice. 4.7.4 Al-Walajah The site of Al-Walajah is located in Naḥal Repha’im on the slopes below the village of Al-Walajah, about 8 km southwest of the Old City of Jerusalem. Remains of Iron Age and Middle Bronze II were preserved beneath Ottoman period terraces (Ein-Mor 2015: 14). This section is expanded a bit more than the other sections on temple architecture because it appears to be the best example of a rural/village temple in the area. Thus, more detailed information is provided with regards to finds. We still await the final publication of the site for further assessments (and see recently, Ein-Mor 2020). 4.7.4.1
Stratigraphy
The temple structure was preserved by an Iron Age terrace fill that sat immediately above the remains of the MB structure and its collapse (Fig. 4.40). The layout was that of a symmetrical long room. It was bipartite with a small entrance hall (Room B, 1.3 x 4 m) and a larger inner room (Room C, 4.1 x 4 m). The overall exterior dimensions of the structure were estimated to be 7.8 x 4.7 m. The northern and western walls were not preserved. A low bench made of field stones lined the southern wall as well as the remains of the western wall. The inner room was furnished with a rectangular installation that stood in its center, possibly a podium or offering table for placing objects. The entrance hall was found with an assemblage of vessels that were likely stored on the southeast corner. Two piers stood on either side of the temple entrance creating a megaron or in antis layout. The temple faced northeast and opened into a courtyard. Facing the entrance of the temple was a small rectangular installation (L301) measuring 0.8 x 1.1 m and preserved to 0.6 m high. It was about 1.5 m away from the entrance and located directly on the building’s central axis. The cracked stones from burning indicate this installation was an altar used for burning. A rectangular stone stood immediately to the south of the L301 installation, possibly a maṣṣebah. The northern end of the courtyard had remains of two small rooms and the entrance to the courtyard, not detected in the excavations, was probably further to the north (Ein-Mor 2015: 15–17; 2019). The pottery was distinctly different in the courtyard and in the bipartite building. Mainly cooking vessels were found from the courtyard area. Many bones were found as well, mainly goat bones with a striking
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preference for hind limbs. They were largely concentrated near the building, scattered around the cooking pots, and tossed as refuse beyond the courtyard retaining wall. Other pottery from the courtyard included some sherds of storage jars and a few complete vessels including two miniature bowls near the temple entrance. A few Canaanean sickle blades were recovered as well from the courtyard. The temple interior had a much richer assemblage composed of a few dozen complete and restorable vessels. This included bowls, goblets, chalices, juglets, and miniature vessels, all vessels used for serving and consumption, and in the latter case for votive offerings as well. A zoomorphic vase was also found, decorated with plastic applications of snakes, gazelle heads, and possibly a leopard. No cooking pots or storage jars were recovered and burnt animal bones were negligible. The majority of the finds came from the entrance room. 4.7.4.2
Analysis
The Al-Walajah temple in many ways resembles a small migdal temple with a courtyard, temenos wall, and bipartite structure facing the east. The two piers in the entrance indeed resemble megaron antae, and the altar with the maṣṣebah can further be attested at cultic foci at other sites. The assemblage is clearly special and the differentiation between courtyard and temple interior assemblages and bone distribution also indicates management and maintenance – the exterior was for sacrificing or slaughtering animals, cooking and placing offerings on the altar, while the interior space was for placing offerings on benches and storing vessels used in consumption. A question still remains regarding the space of that consumption, and it seems likely that more participants could have partaken in activities in the courtyard than in the small and compact interior space, especially considering the main inner room – the proposed cella – was restricted by the rectangular podium spanning the center of the room. The single maṣṣebah near the entrance recalls the one from Shechem, although of a much more modest size in accordance with the much smaller adjacent building. In certain aspects, the structure resembles that of Naḥal Repha’im, while the assemblage recalls nearby Givat Sharett. It is unclear how the temple would have functioned in relation to surrounding structures or settlements, but there does appear now to be growing evidence of cultic spaces in non-urban settlements. 4.7.5 Ashkelon Ashkelon was a coastal site in the southern coastal plain of Canaan located 16 km north of Gaza (Stager and Schloen 2008: 3–4; Stager et al. 2008: 215; Burke 2008: 237–239). In the MB, the site was a large and important port city with massive fortifications (Schloen 1997: 221). A courtyard structure, within which a calf and model shrine were yielded, was situated outside the city walls on the road leading from the sea up to the city gate. 4.7.5.1
Stratigraphy
The Courtyard Building, Building 179, was uncovered about 100 m off the shore along the road leading from the seaport up the massive MB ramparts towards the city gate (Stager et al. 2008: 215). The complex (measuring 8.7 x 10.5 m overall) was composed of six rooms which surrounded a central courtyard, measuring 4.5 x 7.0 m (Fig. 4.41). The pottery found inside dates to the MB III and included cooking pots, bowls and storage jars. Ovens indicate space for cooking and food preparation was located inside the complex. Room 101 was of particular interest due to the discovery of a bronze calf image inside of a cylindrical pottery vessel (Stager et al. 2008: 234–236). 4.7.5.2
Analysis
The courtyard complex at Ashkelon is anomalous for four reasons. Firstly, regarding architecture it does not resemble any other contemporary MB cultic structure in Canaan. Second, the building’s location beyond the large fortifications of the settlement does not appear paralleled at any other site. The case of extramural Nahariya, for example, is quite different as it was nearly 1 km north of the nearest settlement. Third, the vessels inside Building 179 do not signify it was used for cultic purposes. Cooking pots, bowls and storage jars are just as easily representative of common household objects. Finally, the bronze calf figurine and miniature shrine within which the calf was found (Stager 2008: 577–580) are not attested at any other MB site, demonstrating an unparalleled iconographic representation of a deity’s cult image or associated bull calf.
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These objects clearly stem from the realm of cult, but it is unclear that they should be the linchpin for transforming the entire courtyard complex into a cult structure. Stager referred to this building as a small wayside sanctuary beyond the city walls for travelers entering the city from the sea to make offerings (Stager 2008: 577; cf. Nakhai 1993: 190). If this were the case, this would be unique in the southern Levant. However, the majority of the objects found within the complex imply the mundane activities of food preparation and eating. A strong argument has been made for redefining it as a bet marzeah (feasting hall). Bietak has interpreted the building as such, stressing that the vessels and installations indicate that the complex was a place of feasting and ritual consumption (Bietak 2003b: 162). This should not negate attributing a cultic nature to the complex, but it does contribute to better understanding the nature of cultic activity which occurred there.
4.8
New Temples in the LB
Various studies have demonstrated that the transition to the LB exhibited cultural shifts, developments and continuity. In terms of cultic orientation, it appears that there was often immense continuity. For example, sacred precincts and migdal temples at Ugarit, Hazor (Area H), Megiddo, Pella and Shechem continued in use through the LB. Further, although the small migdal temple at Tel Kitan went out of use, a newly oriented temple with a different layout was constructed directly above the previous two temples. On the other hand, certain sequences seem to end at some point during the transition: either at its onset (Tell el-Dab‘a, Tel Haror, Tell el-Hayyat, Byblos) or at some early point in the LB (Hazor Area A, Nahariya). The new temples established in the LB reflect a diversified geopolitical and socioeconomic landscape. These temples were either urban or extramural. In two cases – the temples with raised holy-of-holies at Lachish and Beth Shean – Egyptian influences are apparent in the layout.37 In all other cases, no clear standardized layout is evident. These are referred to as temples with irregular layouts, either because they were asymmetrical or generally of small size. In general, there was a shift away from open-air precincts. The openair cultic precinct at Hazor in Area F with a large stone altar and spacious paved courtyard was a rare exception (Yadin et al. 1960: 127–164; Zuckerman 2012: 104–105), as was the cultic enclosure from Tel Burna (Shai et al. 2015). 4.8.1 Lachish Lachish was a strategic site located in the Shephelah in the south of Canaan (Ussishkin 2004: 23–25). During the MB II–III, Lachish grew into a significant regional center with a large palace. The settlement was destroyed by fire and was only sparsely settled at the onset of the LB I (Ussishkin 2004: 54–57). Three temples were established at Lachish during the LB, an extramural temple sequence constructed in the LB I at the foot of the tell in the remains of the MB fosse (the Fosse Temple), the Level VI Acropolis Temple within the heart of the late LB III settlement, and a Level VI temple uncovered in Garfinkel’s recent excavations that was constructed into the city wall. This last temple will not be analyzed as it is not yet published. The only evidence for early permanent inhabitation during the LB IB comes from the earliest phase of the Fosse Temple. Thus, this temple appears to predate the resettlement of LB Lachish. 4.8.1.1
Fosse Temple
The Fosse Temple was founded in the filling of the MB defensive fosse located at the foot of the western side of the tell, outside of any contemporary wall. The temple was composed of three superimposed building phases (Structures I, II, III). Structure I was the smallest with a sanctuary and two additional rooms. It was constructed in the LB IB. Structure II was larger, the cella twice as big as in the previous phase. It dates to the LB II and was in use until the end of the 14th century B.C.E. Structure III was similar to II but had an additional room. It dates to the LB III and was destroyed in the late 13th century B.C.E. (Tufnell et al. 1940).
37
For further suggestions of Egyptian influences on cultic architecture, see Kaplan 1972: 83–84; 1974: 135–137; Mazar 1992: 180.
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4.8.1.1.1 Stratigraphy The Structure I cella (Room D) was rectangular, measuring 10 x 5 m, and was constructed of rough, unsquared stones which varied in size (Fig. 4.42). The main entrance was from the west, 2 m south of the northwest corner along the west wall. Two additional rooms, Rooms A (3.3 x 3 m) and B (3.2 x 2.1 m), were part of the complex. Room A was at the northwest corner of the sanctuary and Room B was a small annex built against the west wall of the sanctuary. Direct access to the sanctuary’s interior was prevented by a wall projecting from Room B, and the entrance itself, located along the southern wall of the interior room, was not aligned with the focal point of the cella (Tufnell et al. 1940: 36–37). The cella was furnished with a low clay platform along the south wall, measuring 0.3 m high, 0.6 m wide and about 3 m long. Three square blocks projected towards the middle of the room from the bench, the central one 0.5 m long and the two outer ones 0.76 m long. Two jars filled with animal bones were set deep into the floor on the central line of the room. A large accumulation of pottery, including many imports, as well as prestige objects, were recovered from the cella (cf. Section 10.1.1.1). The Structure II cella (Room D) retained the exact orientation of the previous phase as it was superimposed directly above the previous level (Fig. 4.43). Room D was enlarged to 10 x 10.4 m, absorbing Room B from Temple I. The floor was raised 0.5 m and a new entrance from the southwestern corner was constructed. The remains of four pillar bases in the center of the cella were evidence that the shrine was once roofed and rows of benches lined the room’s west, north, and east walls. Many bowls were found on and around these benches. The platform along the cella’s south wall was now made of rough stones and was slightly larger (3.5 m long, 0.65 m wide, and 0.25 m high). One square block projected forward (0.4 m) from the platform in this phase (in contrast to the previous three). On the west end there was a cupboard for lamps that faced a low projecting bench. One meter in front of the altar and bench was a hearth filled with ash and an inverted bowl, directly above the vessels from Structure I (ibid.: 39–40). Room A was doubled in size (now 7.6 x 4.3 m) and Room F was newly added to the cella’s southeast corner (5 x 6 m). Room F was connected to the cella at its northeast corner (southeast corner of the cella) and was furnished with benches. An additional entrance along Room F’s west wall led from outside the temple (ibid.: 37–38). Structure III was the largest of the three in the temple sequence (Fig. 4.44). The layout of the cella remained fairly unaltered, but the floor level was raised 0.65 m. Room E (4.2 x 4.5 m) was added south of the cella and was attached to the west wall of Room F. It had an entrance leading into it from the west corner of the cella’s southern wall (ibid.: 38). The cella’s platform along the southern wall was transformed into a white plastered podium in this phase, measuring 2.3 x 2.5 m, and 0.6 m high. It was partly recessed into the south wall. At some point, an altar constructed of mud-bricks was built against the face of the bench with three steps on the west side. A hearth was set at the base of the altar directly above the Structure II hearth. Also, a cupboard with lamps still stowed in it was to the west of the podium. In front of the cupboard, a tall ceramic stand with a broken bowl was found. The stand had two perforations by the base. The east wall of the cella had three niches added to it, likely for offerings. On the east side of the podium and altar was a large four-handled ceramic bin sunk into the floor. Large amounts of pottery, special finds and animal bones were recovered from all phases (cf. Section 10.1.3.1). 4.8.1.1.2 Analysis The Fosse Temple, in all its phases, had an irregular layout and had its focal point along the southern wall of Room D. Renovations may have been due to a reconfiguration of cultic activity, a shift in the deities being worshipped, or foreign (Egyptian) influences (Bietak 2002; Koch 2017). The raised podium against the south wall would have functioned as a pedestal, potentially for a cult statue, although no such statue was recovered. The temple was neither symmetrical nor was there a direct axis from the entrance to the cella and podium. Thus, the temple on a whole differed from the migdal temples. The right-angle turn that one would make when entering the temple is a feature witnessed at a number of other temples in Canaan (e.g. Tel Mevorakh, Beth Shean, Tell Qasile). The benches for placing votive offerings along the surrounding walls were also common features in Canaanite temples, and the hearths, altars, the ash and the remains of bones are all evidence of consumption and possible food preparation if not evidence of sacrificial rituals that were performed within the temple complex. The wealth of luxury goods, local and imported, that were found at the Fosse Temple was remarkable, highlighting the significant cross-cultural influences and interregional interactions at the site.
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The large quantity of imported vessels begs the question of who the people were that used the temple. It is possible local elites used imported vessels and precious objects in an act of local aggrandizement to buttress their own status. However, there is no evidence for elites from the settlement itself during the first temple phase. On the other hand, it is possible that these vessels signify the actual presence of foreigners residing in or passing by the site, utilizing the location possibly as a roadside shrine. Bietak suggested it was a bet marzeah (Bietak 2002), and the temple is located nearby to a number of extramural LB burials, many of which had a plethora of imported wares (Gonen 1992b). However, if the Fosse Temple was mortuary in nature, it would be unique in the southern Levant. Further, this does not solve the question of why the temple went out of use as Lachish itself rose to prominence in Level VI. It is unclear why the temple was located off the tell, unprotected and likely removed from the main LB settlement. Some have suggested it was a pottery workshop (Ottosson 1980: 81–92),38 a cultic center for pastoral nomads (Finkelstein 1988: 343), as well as those mentioned above (e.g. Koch 2017). In light of the ewer inscription (Hestrin 1987; see Sections 16.2.2, 17.5.2), perhaps the temple was related to female deity worship off the site near a sacred grove. Cultic activity was heavily conducted within the temple complex (ash, animal bones, cultic vessels, raised podium). The multiple chambers built around the central hall were likely used for various purposes, including as vestries, storage facilities and possible priestly quarters. Given the large number of benches situated around the cella, the temple would have provided many worshippers simultaneous access to the cella in order to conduct rituals and make offerings. The Fosse Temple can therefore be defined as a temple which housed local Canaanite and imported foreign cultic paraphernalia, as well as many prestige objects. The temple’s location at the foot of the tell stands in stark contrast to the Acropolis Temple which likely stood next to the LB palace. Any of the above suggestions are possible explanations for why the temple was situated below the mound and for who used the temple. The cross-cultural intrigue of the temple’s assemblages make the Fosse Temple important for understanding how foreign objects were appropriated and became entangled and integrated into Canaanite cult (and see similarly Tel Burna’s cultic enclosure, Shai et al. 2015, 2019). 4.8.1.2
Acropolis Temple
The Acropolis temple remains are from Level VI, the last LB stratum at Lachish (Fig. 4.45). Originally thought to be coeval with the final destruction of the Fosse Temple (Starkey, see also Dothan 1960: 62–63 for an elaboration and emendation to the original theory), it is now clear that Level VII (LB IIB), which was destroyed by fire, was coeval with Fosse Temple III. Thus, settlement in LB Lachish continued after the Fosse Temple was destroyed. The Acropolis Temple comes from this stratum (Ussishkin 2004: 60–64, 216). 4.8.1.2.1 Stratigraphy The temple was constructed of mud-brick walls set on stone foundations. It was tripartite, being composed of an entrance chamber, a main hall, and a raised cella (Fig. 4.46). The temple complex also included a number of subsidiary units and an annex built on the sloping ground to the northeast of the main complex. The construction was on a direct axis and the entrance was oriented towards the west. The temple was constructed with progressively higher terrain leading from the outer entrance chamber through the main hall to stairs leading up to the cella’s entrance (Ussishkin 2004: 216). The entrance hall was poorly preserved, but it appears that it had plastered floors and a stone slab recovered from the entrance might have been used as a threshold. The main hall was rectangular (16.5 x 13.2 m) and was 1.3 m higher than the entrance hall. The hall had a mud-brick floor and featured two large roughly hewn limestone column bases in the center. Along the eastern wall of the main hall were three round column bases hewn from soft limestone. Each was attached to the wall by a plastered brick pilaster or pier. It is likely they were bases for octagonal columns that were found nearby. The function of these columns is unclear but it is possible they were pedestals for cult images (Gittlen 1982: 68) or the ends of walls forming two cultic niches that were 2 m high each. A second staircase, monumental and flanked on either side by two columns, led from the main hall to the cella. The columns were likely decorated with painted plaster and gold leaf. Six
38
Ottosson’s suggestion seems unlikely as the temple has many elements suggesting its cultic nature. Further, an actual pottery workshop that manufactured the local vessels was found in a nearby cave.
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or seven stone stairs lead through the threshold into the most restricted of temple rooms, the cella (Ussishkin 2004: 224–247). The cella was very poorly preserved, lacking most of its walls and devoid of finds. It appears the cella was built with a bent axis, forming a rectangular room turning left from the entrance. The floors were likely plastered, as well (ibid.: 247–250). The northeast corner of the main hall opened into a small storeroom (2.8 x 2.0 m). This room housed most of the cultic paraphernalia that was recovered from the temple. An additional room abutted the storeroom and the main hall’s north wall. Inside, three stone slabs bearing graffiti were found – not in situ – as well as a cultic niche. The niche was nearly square (1.8 x 1.75 m) and opened into the northeast corner of the room. A number of finds came from this niche, including a gold plaque of a naked goddess standing on a horse (ibid.: 251–257). Besides the gold plaque of the naked goddess and a graffito of a potential Canaanite god, many other objects were found in the temple (cf. Section 13.3.1). 4.8.1.2.2 Analysis The temple had a symmetrical floor plan, was tripartite, was oriented towards the west, and was built on successfully higher ground progressing from the outermost to the innermost room. The general layout resembles a number of other MB and LB temples, in particular, certain elements of the migdal temples, as well as a number of other less monumental but still symmetrical temples. The temple’s symmetrical layout contrasts from the irregular layout of the earlier Fosse Temple. Although a number of features resemble Canaanite traditions, many Egyptian traits are also present. Thus, the two central column bases in the main hall, the monumental staircase with its balustrade-like side slabs leading up to the raised cella, and the three projected octagonal columns that once stood atop the three column bases against the main hall’s back wall all have Egyptian parallels (ibid.: 261–264). Further, the fragments of painted plaster, if an indication of wall paintings, might reflect yet another imported Egyptian tradition. The temple’s assemblage, although likely only a small fraction of the original inventory, reflects a wealth of luxury goods with clear Egyptian and Mediterranean connections. In fact, the gold plaque of the naked goddess reflects an iconographic hybridization in its integration of both Egyptian and Canaanite artistic and figural representations of the female deity. The iconography therefore reflects the very nature and complexity of the temple’s architecture: Egyptian traits laid over a generally local, Canaanite core. Another reflection of this might be the crudely incised graffito of the warrior deity (Reshef) that was recovered from the temple. Clearly not a n official cult object, the depiction might have been engraved by someone who identified with the local deity, that is, by a Canaanite and not Egyptian hand. The Acropolis Temple differed from the Fosse Temple in terms of location and layout. As an elite structure constructed next to the LB palace, the temple would undoubtedly reflect the ideology of the local ruling class. After the destruction of Level VII, the final LB settlement was subjected to immense Egyptian hegemony. This political influence would have certainly affected the way the ruling elite of Lachish viewed itself, possibly molding elite ideology to align more with Egyptian conceptions. At the height of Egypt’s influence over the Lachish elite, the elite-controlled temple in many ways reflected Egyptian temples. Yet, the Lachish elite were still Canaanite, as were the inhabitants of the site, and thus many Canaanite features remained visible in the Acropolis Temple. This temple had a very close parallel at Beth Shean. 4.8.2 Beth Shean Beth Shean was an Egyptian garrison during the LB (Mazar 2011). A precinct with seven temples through the LB and early Iron Age was excavated. The earliest of these temples was exposed in Stratum R-2 (LB I); it predates the later Egyptian settlement (Mazar 2010: 249–250). Further, Level IX/Stratum R-1 contained a temple and nearby courtyard area dated to the LB IB and LB IIA. In Levels VIII–VII (LB IIB) the city layout was reorganized according to a new grid plan. A number of temples come from these phases as well. Level VI (early Iron Age) demonstrates continuity in the use of the sacred precinct in general and of Temple 1072/1032, in particular (Mullins 2012).
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Chapter 4 Stratigraphy
From Stratum R-2, Temple 58066 was a tripartite structure with an irregular and asymmetrical plan and entrance opening toward the south (Fig. 4.47). It was composed of an entrance hall on the south, a central room, and a trapezoidal hall in the back (ca. 14 x 11.75 m, overall). The temple walls were about 0.7 m thick. The entrance was along the south wall of the entrance hall, relatively centered. Passage to the central main hall was through a narrow entryway at the east end of the entrance hall. Access to the inner hall to the north was through an off-centered entryway along the main hall’s northern wall. The central hall’s walls were lined with plastered benches and a raised platform along the western wall. A cylindrical stone and post hole were found on the raised platform. The close proximity to the wall suggest these were not structural but might have served cultic purposes. The inner hall was similarly lined with benches and a small basin. A small narrow room behind the platform might have served as a repository for ritual objects. Among the few objects recovered from the temple was a bronze leg of a smiting god figurine (Mullins and Mazar 2007: 112–128; Mullins 2012: 128–130). In Stratum R-1, Temples 1230 and 1234 were constructed (Fig. 4.48).39 Temple 1230 was constructed as a single-celled, symmetrical, rectilinear structure with a long-room layout (exterior dimensions were 9 x 14.1 m, interior dimensions were 5.8 x 7.5 m). Its entrance opens to the west; however, the entrance is not along the central axis but is instead at the southwest corner. Along the back wall there appears to have been a niche, and a possible passage along the north end that led to a narrow back chamber along the eastern side of the temple. The north and south walls were over 1.5 m thick, and the back wall was 2.45 m wide. This temple might have been modeled after Syrian temple archetypes. Temple 1234 to the south was an enclosure, with entrances to the northeast and southwest, and a number of auxiliary rooms. The mud-brick walls sat upon stone foundations. The main hall contained a stepped, plastered brick podium in the north. Directly in front of the podium lay a rectangular stone slab abutted by a stone column (perhaps a maṣṣebah?) on its east. To the east of the podium was a basalt altar turned on its side and a figurine of a nude female, as well as other possible cultic vessels. Within the auxiliary rooms, multiple ovens, animal bones and ash were recovered, indicating food preparation and consumption. It is unclear if this was an open courtyard or a roofed temple (Mullins 2012: 132). In Level VII, Temple 1072 (14.9 x 14.2 m) was constructed with 1.2 m thick mud-brick walls without stone foundations (Fig. 4.49). It had a rectangular main hall built according to a broad-room layout with the entrance facing south. The entrance opened into a small entrance porch that obscured direct access to the temple interior (Fig. 4.50). The hall’s east and north walls were lined with benches, and two brick installations as well as two large, symmetrically-placed pillar bases were found, too. Along the hall’s north wall was a staircase of seven stairs ascending 1.2 m to a narrow back chamber which was furnished with an altar and basin. In another room east of the temple entrance, remains of an oven were found, evidence of food preparation. Finds in the temple included Egyptianizing objects, an ivory Hathor clapper and a stele dedicated to a female deity (Mullins 2012: 135–142), possibly Astarte or Hathor (cf. Mazar 2011: 159). Behind the temple to the north, an altar with remains of animal bones and ash was found (1 x 1.4 x 1.25 m). This temple continued in use into the Iron Age. The following Level VI of the Iron Age IA was the last phase of Egyptian settlement at the site. Temple 1032 was very similar in plan to and sat directly above Temple 1072, with minor changes to interior furnishings and the entrance ante-rooms (ibid.: 143). After the Iron IB Egyptian departure from the region in Late Level VI (James 1966: 19–21, equal to Hebrew University’s Strata S-2 and N-2), a double temple complex was constructed; it exhibited a shift away from Egyptian traditions and reflected a revived Canaanite orientation to cult (Mullins 2012: 144–151) 4.8.2.2
Analysis
The cultic precinct at Beth Shean demonstrates significant continuity. A number of different temples arose throughout the LB and Iron Age, exhibiting local innovation and foreign influence. Temple 58066 was irregular (asymmetrical) with indirect access. It was tripartite, furnished with benches, had a cella, and a possible maṣṣebah. It appears to be the earliest of this temple-type in Canaan, founded in the LB I and seeming to predate the establishment of other such temples at Tel Mevorakh, Lachish Fosse Temple and Tell Qasile in 39
Rowe’s Northern Temple, 1226, is no longer considered a temple. Instead, Temple 1230 is included in this phase’s temples (Mullins 2012: 131).
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the Iron Age. The Alalakh Level V and LB Kamid el-Loz temples similarly exhibited a bent-axis entrance, a feature first attested at Ebla’s MB Sanctuary B2 (cf. Mazar 1992: 177–182; Mullins 2012: 129). Temple 1230 was of a different architectural tradition: a symmetrical structure with large walls that resembled migdal temple architecture. Corner entrances such as that at Temple 1230 are known locally in Level IX and later in the Iron Age. There might also be a correlation between these corner entrances and those known from Temple 2 at Kition on Cyprus (ibid.: 132). This temple was therefore a local innovation, with possible inspiration from the migdal temple form. The Temple/Enclosure 1234 south of Temple 1230 is ambiguous in terms of its overall layout. It is possible it functioned as a large open-air cultic space serving as an auxiliary cultic focal point to that of the main Temple 1230. If it was unrelated to the activities in Temple 1230, then perhaps the stepped podium would have been its focal point against the rear wall with an auxiliary room behind serving as a treasury (ibid.: 132). Regarding the Levels VII and VI temples, the strong Egyptianizing elements recall those from the Acropolis temple at Lachish. The large pillar bases in the main hall, the stairs leading up to the raised cella, binlike installations found in the main hall, the lack of stone foundations, two Egyptian lotus-shaped limestone capitals from the later temple, and evidence of light blue painted plaster are non-local elements known from contemporary temples in Egypt at Tell el-‘Amarna and Deir el-Medina. Egyptian influences are further evident in objects found in and around the temple. The similarities with the Lachish Acropolis temple place both temples within the category of Egyptian-influenced temples with raised holy-of-holies. This in turn reflects a period of time at Beth Shean under Egyptian rulership and of a combined Egyptian and Canaanite population. This religious syncretism of Strata VII and VI is similarly noted in the iconography at the site (Mazar 2011: 175–176). The sacred precinct at Beth Shean therefore exhibited a diverse religious trajectory from the perspective of architecture. The superimposed strata of temples indicate the local sacred significance attributed to the space, particularly in light of the fact that there was continuity in cultic use of the area from the pre-Egyptian to the newly Egyptian-oriented garrison levels. As noted above, once Egyptian rule ended, the resiliency of Canaanite traditions among the population in effect brought back certain pre-Egyptian cultic traditions to the site. 4.8.3 Tel Mevorakh Tel Mevorakh was located on the southern bank of Naḥal Taninim at the border between the Sharon plain and the narrow Carmel coast, strategically situated in control of the coastal land route of Canaan. During the LB, the small mound appears to have been unsettled except for a sequence of three superimposed buildings which have been identified as temples. These temples are from Strata XI, X and IX, all corresponding to the LB (Stern 1984: 1–3). 4.8.3.1
Stratigraphy
The earliest temple in Stratum XI was the most well preserved, and was a single-celled structure measuring 10 x 5 m (Fig. 4.51). The walls were 0.6 m thick and made of mud-brick placed on a single course of large squared stones. Excavations did not expose the entrance, which was possibly centered along the unexcavated southern wall. Two-stepped benches lined the north and west wall. A raised white lime platform stood at the northwest corner of the building (0.6 m high). It appears that at first four steps led to the top of the platform. At a later phase in this stratum, two additional lower steps were added. The concentration of vessels on these steps indicates they were used as shelves or benches. Just south of the podium was a round depression in the floor, possible evidence of a pillar that once supported a roof. A second, lower and angular-shaped platform extended southwards along the west wall. Two smaller raised platforms sat at the southern end of this platform. Numerous vessels were found on top of these platforms in this stratum (Fig. 4.52). A drainage channel was found on the southern side of the structure, cut into a bench centered along the southern wall. An empty pit in the center of the room might have been a favissa. A large open courtyard was likely surrounded by a temenos wall, although the dimensions and contours of such a space are unclear (Stern 1984: 4–6). The following two temples retained the same overall plan. In Stratum X, the floor was raise, more benches were added to the west, and the walls were newly fashioned of stone (Fig. 4.53). The platform along the west was raised as well and was now surrounded by a stone wall. The benches along the north and east were retained but slightly altered. A small room was added to the south of the platform, and an additional room
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with a stone-built silo was built to the west of the temple in the courtyard area (Stern 1984: 6–8). Most of Stratum IX was heavily damaged, but the temple appears to have retained the same layout, although slightly shifted to the south. Given the large foundation stones that were recovered and a section of an interior partition wall that was found running east–west near the temple’s north wall, Stern has suggested this was the largest and most complex of the temples, similar to the final Lachish Fosse Temple (ibid.: 28). However, any clear understanding of the Stratum IX architecture is tentative. 4.8.3.2
Analysis
The rectangular temple exhibits a number of elements indicating it was a temple, including the raised platforms in the northwest corner, the benches along the building’s walls, a possible favissa in the center, and a number of objects and vessels related to cult and ritual. The entrance, which was not found, was likely along the southern wall on the east corner, creating an entrance with a bent axis. Thus, direct access to the focal point of cultic activity was prevented. The location of the temple outside of any urban area is also peculiar. It was interpreted by Stern as a roadside shrine for the use of travelers, possibly on the way to Dor (Stern 1984: 36) and related to the local Canaanite population. Mazar, on the other hand, suggested the temple served foreign populations of traders and merchants from Cyprus or the Aegean (Mazar 1980: 62–68). The temple was built into the MB rampart, with similar but not identical constructions found at Hazor Area C and Lachish. Thus, LB Tel Mevorakh was an extramural cultic precinct with a small shrine that developed in complexity throughout the LB. What began as a symmetrical sanctuary (note the podium was not symmetrically placed) developed in Stratum X into an asymmetrical structure. Chapter 11 offers further interpretations of the use of the temple. 4.8.4 Hazor Area C Area C at Hazor was a residential neighborhood on the low tell to the north of Area A, first settled in the MB. In Stratum 2 (LB I), the area retained its residential nature (Yadin et al. 1958: 71–98; 1960: 76–126). In Stratum 1B (LB IIA), the small Stelae Temple was constructed into the MB rampart. It had two phases, Strata 1B and 1A. 4.8.4.1
Stratigraphy
In Stratum 1B, the Stelae Temple was built as an irregularly-shaped rectangular structure (4.5 x 5.8 m) with the entrance opening to the east (Fig. 4.54). Benches lined the interior walls. A semi-circular niche was built along the back wall opposite the entrance, not quite aligned with the shrine’s central axis. The entrance opened into a spacious courtyard that was surrounded by the structures of the Area C neighborhood (Fig. 4.55). The shrine only had a few finds, including 17 discarded basalt maṣṣebot (Yadin 1972: 71; Zuckerman 2012: 102). The Stratum 1A temple retained the same plan with slightly more interior space (5.2 x 5.8 m). The niche was raised 0.8 m and 10 maṣṣebot were found in situ standing in a row, the center one bearing a relief of two upraised hands stretching toward a crescent and disc symbol at the top. A basalt slab was found at the center of the niche in front of the maṣṣebot and a statue of seated human figure was located to the south. Other objects were found around the temple, including a basalt orthostat depicting a crouching lion, a bronze standard of a goddess and snakes, and a nearby clay mask (cf. Figs. 9.3–9.7). Major changes occurred outside the temple. The courtyard was closed off (Fig. 4.56). Instead, a narrow ascent led from the south of the temple and was directed to the west by a wall that now restricted access to the temple’s entrance. Thus, the adjoining neighborhood no longer had unrestricted and free access to the temple. 4.8.4.2
Analysis
The Stelae Temple was a small, somewhat symmetrical temple that was located in a residential neighborhood at Hazor. The benches and niche recall the layouts of other temples discussed above. However, the maṣṣebot on the raised niche, the basalt offering table, the lion orthostat and the basalt statuette were unique. At other temples beginning in the MB, maṣṣebot were erected in groups either in open-air settings or in temple courtyards. Area C’s assemblage, however, was located in the temple’s interior and was the central focusing device directing the attention of worshippers. Also, the residential location of the temple was unique in Canaan.
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In Chapter 9, Section 9.2, I present a thorough discussion of the interpretation of the cult at this temple. In contrast to other temples at the site, the Area C Stelae Temple was not monumental or well built. It did not follow any standardized architectural tradition. Further, it was not visible from afar and would not have left any particular impression of elevated or imposing monumentality. In fact, the temple’s very small interior would have severely limited the number of individuals who could have used the space at any given time. In terms of the spatial syntax of the shrine and its relation to the surrounding neighborhood, it is likely that the plaza in front of it was used for communal activities. In Stratum 1B, the courtyard was not only a focal point for navigating between different sections of the neighborhood, but it also provided a wide and open space for congregating together. This contrasted from the lack of suitable interior space in the shrine. Yet, while the courtyard space reflects older traditions of communal activities in natural settings (i.e. open air), the stelae were not directly a part of the cult in Area C, but rather they were set off from the community and housed within the shrine. In the final phase of the shrine, this communal space was partitioned off and the shrine was separated from the rest of the neighborhood. Access to the shrine was more limited and restricted than before, possible evidence of elites consolidating their authority over the use of the shrine. 4.8.5 Tell Abu Hawam Tell Abu Hawam was located in the Kishon River estuary on the southern edge of the Haifa Bay. It served as an LB harbor that connected inland Canaan to the coast, funneling imports (Mycenaean and Cypriot, amongst others) throughout the Jezreel Valley and possibly to sites as far inland as Hazor (Herzog 1997: 174). The site itself was likely an emporium of sorts, based primarily on its function as a maritime hub. Thus, residents and the activities at the site would have primarily focused on trade (e.g. import and export). Two superimposed buildings from Strata V and IV (LB IIA–B and Iron Age I, respectively) were defined as temples based on their idiosyncratic architecture and their isolated freestanding nature on the eastern end of the site (Hamilton 1935; Balensi 1980, 1985). 4.8.5.1
Stratigraphy
Building 50 was a single-celled, symmetrical, rectangular structure measuring ca. 9.3 x 7.8 m (Fig. 4.57). The walls were about 1 m thick. No entrance to the structure was preserved. A porch was located to the west and possibly to the east of the structure as well. Four large stones found relatively symmetrically along the building’s central axis were likely column bases and suggest the structure was roofed. Between these bases was a possible stone-paved hearth. The exterior had four buttresses, two on either side of the long walls (Hamilton 1935: 11–13). In Stratum IV (Iron I), Building 30 was constructed atop the earlier Building 50 (Fig. 4.58). The structure retained its rectangular shape but was elongated (interior now ca. 12 x 6.5 m). The west now included a more complex layout, with a small “inner room” (Hamilton 1935: 11) or podium area along the northwest corner strongly recalling the location of the Tel Mevorakh platform. To the south of this fixture, a vertical pier (maṣṣebah?) once stood (ibid.). 4.8.5.2
Analysis
Buildings 50 and 30 were defined as temples by Hamilton and later scholars (Stern 1984; Wright 1985; Mazar 1992; Herzog 1997). This was largely based on the buildings’ peripheral location on the eastern edge of the tell and their unique rectilinear shape. However, nothing distinctly cultic appears in these buildings. They lack common features such as benches or a niche or podium. Yet, the objects that were recovered from the area of Building 50 were quite impressive. Thus, these buildings were either temples, as has been suggested, or some form of repository or location for depositing a wide range of prestige goods. If they indeed were temples, they conform to the category of temples with irregular (but symmetrical) layouts. 4.8.6 Tell Abu Al-Kharaz Tell Abu Al-Kharaz was a small site east of the Jordan River just south of Pella. During the MB and LB, limited exposure in a number of areas has helped determine that the site was urban and fortified. There is evidence of a city wall, a commercial center, domestic structures and industrial structures (Fischer 2006a:
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81–88). In phase VII (LB II), a rectangular stone building was well preserved and has been identified as a temple (ibid.: 88–90, Figs. 24, 29, 30). 4.8.6.1
Stratigraphy
The building was a single-celled structure with a rectangular long-room layout measuring 6.7 x 5.2 m (Fig. 4.59). It was symmetrical with the entrance facing west and possible stairs leading up to the temple entrance. The walls were not particularly thick, ca. 0.6–0.7 m. Possible pillar bases were found near the entrance and a 1 x 1 m stone installation, possibly an altar, was located in the northeastern corner of the building (the rear). The back wall was lined with a low-rising stone bench. A number of complete vessels (including imports, stands, lamps, monochrome and bichrome decorations), stone tools and beads were found inside and directly in front of the temple. An oven was found 2 m south of the temple (Fischer 2006a: 140–141). 4.8.6.2
Analysis
This building at Tell Abu Al-Kharaz was likely a small local shrine, furnished with a bench along its back wall and an altar or podium for offerings. The quality of the vessels and small finds supports identifying this structure as a focal point for votive offerings and the dedication of prestige objects. The temple at Tell Abu Al-Kharaz should be classified as a small urban temple with irregular (symmetrical) layout. The stone podium/altar was not centrally placed, and no niche was found along the rear wall. Yet, the raised bench recalls other Levantine temples that had the focal point of cultic activity along the rear wall. Further, the oven found outside the temple is evidence of cooking, possibly related to temple ritual and feasting practices in the courtyard. In no way was this temple constructed to leave an imposing impression of monumentality, nor does it appear to have been constructed in such a manner as to control privileged access to the cult. However, the lack of exposure of the surrounding context (e.g. a courtyard, other structures in the settlement) prevents further analysis.
4.9
Discussion: Making Sense of the Diversity in Canaanite Temple Architecture
The categories of temple types as laid out in this study demonstrate the eclecticism of cultic architecture in Canaan. Both temporal and geographic factors affected the local sacred landscape and transformed the region into its multifaceted and complex nature. Temporally, cultic sites in Canaan were open air and non-urban in the early phases of the MB. Later in the MB, a standardized architectural form, the migdal temples, appeared in the urban landscape. This form might have already appeared on a more modest scale earlier in the MB at Tell el-Hayyat and Pella. By the end of the MB, migdal temples can be seen in both urban and rural landscapes and some had a long life, lasting through the LB. More modest cultic structures that lacked monumentality and standardized plans were also built in the MB. These were generally located in rural settlements, although the possible MB III roadside shrine at Ashkelon was from a large urban settlement. In some cases, rural shrines appear to be fashioned after larger urban temples. At Al-Walajah, for example, the temple seems to be a small-scale temple in antis, mimicking the contemporary larger migdal temples. The majority of LB temple constructions were not according to specific symmetrical planning but were rather irregular in their layout. Newly constructed temples in the LB were built at rural, urban, and extramural sites. Temporally, there was also a shift away from the use of open-air spaces for cultic purposes. Sites like Nahariya, Gezer and Byblos no longer appear to have held the same significance within Canaan as they did early on. One exception to this might be the open-air space in Area F at Hazor (Yadin 1972: 100–101). Maṣṣebot installations were no longer regularly a part of outdoor ritual (cf. Hazor Area C Stelae Temple) and open-air sites in general were overshadowed by constructed edifices. The temples with raised holy-of-holies at Lachish and Beth Shean were unique in the LB, both sites in which Egyptian traditions influenced the construction of a distinct variety of temple architecture. There remains a disagreement regarding the origins of the temple type. Some argue that Egyptian traditions influenced Canaanite architecture (Ottosson 1980: 50–51, 79–80), while others have sought influences in the other direction (Bomann 1991). These temples have the appearance of either being Canaanite temples displaying Egyptian elements (Mazar 1992, Ussishkin 2004) or as Egyptianizing architectural types incorporating both Egyptian and local Canaanite elements (Higginbotham 2000: 79). Both the architecture and material culture from these temples exhibit a combination of local Canaanite and foreign Egyptian influences, thus under-
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scoring the robust and intricate nature of Egyptian-Canaanite cultural interactions towards the end of the LB (Mullins 2012: 137). Geography also played a role in the distribution of temple types. Sites along the coast lacked temple architecture, either altogether (e.g. Tel ‘Ashir and Nahariya) or otherwise lacking in monumental and standardized forms (e.g. Tel Mevorakh). On the other hand, the inland Canaanite sites integrated Syrian cultic architecture. Migdal temples that were built both at urban and rural sites were most heavily concentrated in the Jordan Valley, with additional temples in the Jezreel Valley (Megiddo), the central highlands (Shechem), the Negev (Tel Haror) and the Nile Delta (Tell el-Dab‘a). No migdal temples have yet been found along the coast. Further, Canaan’s geography affected foreign ties and influences during the MB and LB, particularly with Egypt to the south in the LB and Syro-Mesopotamian spheres already in the MB (as demonstrated by the migdal temples). The temples at Beth Shean, an Egyptian garrison, and Lachish, a southern Canaanite stronghold with strong Egyptian ties, are examples of the effects that Egyptian trade relations and physical military and administrative presence had on the religious architecture at times. Irregular temples differ from the migdal temples and temples with raised holy-of-holies in that they do not conform to a specific standardized type or form. However, certain recurring features tend to be present within these structures, including raised platforms along the wall opposite the entrance, benches along the side walls, pillars to support a roof or for some other undefined purpose, storerooms either attached internally or located nearby to the temple, favissae, and a temenos (Stern 1984: 28–31). Mazar defined these temples within a category of their own as “temples with irregular plan and indirect access,” suggesting that although they do not all conform to a homogenous layout, they exhibit enough shared characteristics that diverge from other temple types that they should be grouped together as exceptional “to the main group,” that is, migdal temple architecture (Mazar 1980: 62–66). In his assessment, the migdal temples are understood as part of a northwest Semitic Levantine architectural tradition, while the irregularly-planned temples stemmed from non-indigenous populations. Although the differences in architecture type, regionality and temporality must be addressed, divorcing this discussion from the objects and vessels within these cultic spaces, and the associated ritual and activities, is problematic (cf. Part III). Different architectural plans might be significant but do not necessitate explanations of foreign innovation or populations. The likes of Yeivin (1968), Dothan (1981), Mazar (1980), Negbi (1988) and Gilmour (1993) sought Aegean and Cypriot origins of, or at least influences on, the irregular temple architecture that appeared in the LB. However, further evaluation has emphasized these temples as a local, southern Levantine phenomenon. Looking for foreign origins in fact would be tantamount to an oversimplification of the complex nature of constructing built-up landscapes. Instead, possibilities of elite emulation, foreign influences via trade or other avenues, local innovation, geographic or topographic constraints, the deity being worshipped, or a combination of various factors should be considered. Indeed, Stern and others bring issue to this assessment, as no two temples reflect any shared template in their plans or internal furnishings (Stern 1984: 32). The strongest argument can be made that these temples arose during the LB as local innovations and due to various factors. During the LB, there seems to have been somewhat of a systems collapse in the southern Levant when the society and landscape became increasingly fractured and less unified. The earlier standardized temples and their cult apparently no longer functioned with the same efficacy as they did during the MB. As such, new temple forms expressed in a variety of layouts, sizes, regions and settings arose to address and fulfill cultic needs for an increasingly diverse landscape.
Chapter 5 Temple Courtyards In accordance with aim (1) of this book, this chapter analyzes the spaces where most movement and grouporiented activities took place within temple precincts: the courtyards. The main question guiding the analysis is the following: how did the populace interact with and experience cultic space? Surprisingly, to date, no study has attempted to estimate the number of individuals that could have fit in temple courtyards at a given time. In getting at the phenomenological experience that individuals underwent when encountering these spaces, it is important to understand who, and how many people, had access to these cultic spaces. In the process of transforming spaces into meaningful and subjective interactive places, we must consider to whom these places were meaningful. A basic question asked here is the following: were temples and their courtyards actually constructed large enough to account for the entire settlement population? If they were, those who controlled the temples should be considered quite inclusive in their attempt to break down social and hierarchic barriers. On the other hand, if they were not large enough for entire populations, inherent hierarchy and social fragmentation would create friction with efforts to forge shared, communal, group identities. Thus, this section will provide estimates of the total number of ritual participants that could fit into given spaces, based on coefficients of population density suggested below. This effort aims at drawing a relationship between temple interior, temple courtyard, and larger urban settlement population estimates, a relationship that appears to be hierarchic. This will add to the general scope of our understanding of the experience and organization of Canaanite cult, including the relationship between the roles of ritual personnel and that of the lay population.
5.1
Methodology
A number of studies in Mesoamerica have investigated the relationship between public spaces in urban settings and a settlement’s population size, where it has been observed that larger cities had a tendency to have larger central plazas (Ossa et al. 2017: 457–458). In those studies, it was demonstrated that open public spaces are intended to facilitate social interaction (Smith 2007). Moore’s study focusing on public architecture in the Andes (Moore 1996: 147) proposed a range of density constants that he calculated (m2/person) based on a number of different sized settlements. Inomata determined the most useful of these coefficients were 0.46, 1.00, and 3.60 m2 per person (Inomata 2006), and these coefficients, although acknowledged as being provisional in nature, have since been used to explore the use of communal space in Mayan civilization, elsewhere in Mesoamerica, and in North American contexts (Ossa et al. 2017: 459). In those studies, public spaces were shown to have a multiplicity of functions, one of which was community wide gatherings for participating in communal ritual and activities. In accordance with these studies, a recent study on ceremonial open space in Iron Age Carchemish – closer in space and time to the current study – suggested a density coefficient of 2.5 individuals/m2 (Gilibert 2011: 103). I propose applying this approach to Canaan as well. In this effort, I estimate courtyard space, then multiply the area of the courtyard by a range of coefficients to provide a suggested range of individuals that could have stood in a courtyard at any given time. I take as the lower limit of this estimate 1 individual/m2, while I suggest the upper limit in tightly-packed gatherings to be 3 individuals/m2. I assume that during large-scale ritual gatherings, more people could physically fit into a given space as they moved closer and closer together. This can be compared to large gatherings today, such as a concert, in which more and more people crowd into the same space. Comfort and personal space are not necessarily the primary concerns at these times. However, in a recent study on crowd risk analysis, it has been suggested that anything over 3 individuals/m2 would be considered overcrowded and dangerous (Still 2000; and cf. Hines 2000: 149). Following these calculations, I will compare these estimates to the overall settlement population estimates. This will help assess how inclusive, or exclusive, temples and their courtyards were in their respective settlements. A number of different population estimates have been put forth for the MB, ranging from ca. 100,000– 140,000 (Broshi and Gophna 1986: 86) to ca. 200,000 (Kempinski 1992a; Ilan 1995). Population estimates of LB Canaan range from 41,000–51,000 (Gonen 1984: 68), 46,000–58,000 (Bunimovitz 1989) to 90,000 (Finkelstein 1996: 244). Regardless of the accuracy or inaccuracy of these estimates, the numbers stand to
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show that tens of thousands of people lived in Canaan during the MB and LB.40 Briefly recalling ANE conceptions of temples as the houses of the gods, it is logical to assume that the temple interiors were the main focal point for worshipping the deity and presenting offerings. Yet, relatively few individuals would have had access to and could fit into a temple at any given time. Courtyards, however, were also spaces in which many rituals were performed, and these spaces were more accessible and generally more spacious than temple interiors. Assuming religion in the Bronze Age was deeply imbedded within all aspects of everyday life, it is imperative to look to temple courtyards in order to better understand the spaces within which larger groups of the Canaanite populace engaged in ritual. The following will therefore proceed by means of a number of case studies. Courtyard space at Hazor, Megiddo, Tel Haror, Tell el-Dab‘a and Ugarit will be analyzed and then compared to the use of space in the open-air precincts at Nahariya, Byblos and Gezer. The discussions on temple courtyards will thus complete Part II’s investigation of aim (1), where Canaanite cult took place. Based on Broshi and Gophna’s estimates (coefficient of 250 persons per hectare), the following city population estimates can be assumed: Hazor (ca. 74 ha.) was roughly 18,500, Megiddo (ca. 11 ha.) was 2,750, Tel Haror (ca. 15 ha.) was 3,750, Tell el-Dab‘a (ca. 250 ha.) was 62,500, and Ugarit (ca. 20 ha.) was 5,000.41 The population of Gezer (ca. 13 ha.) was 3,250 and Byblos (ca. 10 ha.) was 2,500.42 Nahariya was extramural. Other sites might have functioned similarly in their courtyard areas, although further investigation would be required. The results of the estimates calculated in this chapter can be found in Table I.
5.2
Temples with a Temenos
5.2.1 Hazor Three courtyards will be discussed at Hazor: one from Area H’s Orthostat Temple, one from Area A’s Building 7050, and the open space in front of Area C’s Stelae Temple. 5.2.1.1
Area H Temple
One of the largest and earliest excavated migdal temples in Canaan was that of Hazor Area H. It was apparent early on that the temple had parallels both at other sites in Canaan (Shechem and Megiddo had already yielded temples) as well as in Syria, particularly the temple at Alalakh. The temple architecture and interior received the most attention. Excavations were more limited in exploring the area just south of the temple – the courtyard area(s) outside of the temple. The earliest level, Stratum 3 (MB III), was marginally explored in the courtyard area, with two potential walls demarcated. 5.2.1.1.1 Stratigraphy During the LB I in Stratum 2 (Fig. 4.18), a gate-like structure composed of two successive rectangular “rooms” (2169 and 2172) was constructed in the courtyard leading toward the temple. The two rooms were not aligned along the same axis but were instead off-centered. Thus, they did not form a direct-axis entry one might expect leading into an otherwise large symmetrical temple. If this was indeed the entrance to the courtyard, walls must have once stood marking the temple temenos. Unfortunately, excavations were unsuccessful in clarifying the extent of these walls, thus obfuscating any clear picture of the courtyard space (Ben-Tor 1989: 230). Two rectangular installations stood in the inner court, one larger (3.5 x 2 m) and one smaller (1 x 1.5 m). The large quantities of ash, animal bone and offering vessels found in the vicinity suggest these could have functioned as altars. Numerous benches found along walls within the courtyard further demonstrate that the courtyard was used for presenting and setting down votive offerings. A pottery kiln was located in a room west of the courtyard (Room 2146). Additionally, a bronze plaque depicting a Canaanite elite was found on a bench inside the outer room of the “gate,” providing rare insight into iconographic representations of the time (ibid.: 228; Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXIX), and a clay model of a liver was found, offering 40
See recent review in Kennedy 2013: 1–5, 21–26, 28–29. For size estimates, Yadin et al. (1958: 2–3) was used for Hazor (note that with fortifications the site may be up to ca. 80 ha.). Garr (1987: 34) was used for Ugarit, Oren (1997) for Tel Haror, and Bietak (1991: 29) for Tell el-Dab‘a. Finkelstein and Ussishkin (2000b: 593) suggest Megiddo’s MB and LB settlement was more expansive than once thought, composed of both the upper and lower tells and thus ca. 11 ha. 42 Gezer’s site size was taken from Dever (1993: 496), and Byblos from Kennedy (2013: 269). 41
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insight into the types of cultic activities that were performed within this space (Ben-Tor 1989: 228–230). Activities within the court included sacrifice, presenting votive offerings and prestige goods, ceramic production, and reading oracles through extispicy. Yadin did not attempt to calculate the dimensions of the courtyard. From the plans and possible contours of where the temenos walls once stood, the courtyard measured at least 11 x 14 m, or 154 m2.43 Thus, a range of 154–462 individuals could have been in the courtyard at any given time. Although unexplored, it is assumed more open space sat outside the temenos. The Strata 1B and 1A temples (Figs. 4.19, 4.20) had an even more complex exterior than the previous phases, with three distinct areas within which various activities and movements could have been performed: an open space beyond the temenos wall (2135), the temple courtyard between the temenos wall and the temple entrance (2119), and the approach to the courtyard from outer to inner space (2158). The courtyard now measured ca. 14 x 8 m, or 112 m2, a narrower space than the previous phase due to the expansion of the temple into a tripartite structure. Thus, a range of 112–336 people could stand in the courtyard facing the temple. Outside the temenos was a large favissa within which many objects were recovered. This pit would have prevented access to the temple and so it has been assumed that Area 2158, which formed an indirect right angle with the temple’s entrance, was the main approach to the temple courtyard. At least three structures were situated along the eastern side of the approach just to the south of the entrance threshold that led into the courtyard, some furnished with benches (Ben-Tor 1989: 247). An additional approach might have come through the narrow passage of Area 2126 to the west, but nothing is known about what lies further to the west and whether there was indeed a courtyard entrance in/from that direction. Within the courtyard itself, benches lined parts (if not all) of the interior face of the irregularly-shaped temenos wall. A basalt libation table and cultic stands were recovered from the favissa beyond the courtyard. Within the courtyard, a basalt offering table, a miniature maṣṣebah, and a basalt statue (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CXVII:7) were recovered. The statue originally once stood upon a bull recovered nearby (ibid.: Pls. CCCXXIV–CCCXXV). Within the narrow passage leading to the west of the temple was another libation table. On the other side of the temple complex, the limited area excavated to the east revealed two krater bases and a dense concentration of animal bones and pottery, including cultic stands and cooking pots. Also, a number of silos throughout the various spaces were found. 5.2.1.1.2 Analysis Yadin, Zuckerman and others identified the courtyard as space for sacrifice and associated feasts (Yadin 1972; Ben-Tor 1989: 229; Bergquist 1993: 36; Zuckerman 2007: 192; Zuckerman 2012: 107). In the later strata of the Area H courtyard, there is additional evidence of libations, activities using cultic stands and the ritual burial of cultic vessels in favissae. Unfortunately, there is no data on the area beyond the temenos, which would have better situated the temple within its broader urban context. Nonetheless, a range of between 154–462 individuals in Stratum 2 and 112–336 individuals in Stratum 1B could participate in ritual activity at any given moment in the courtyard. In Stratum 2, the approach was from the front of the temple. As an individual approached the temple complex, the towering edifice of the migdal temple would have been visible from afar. Yet, the entrance gate to the courtyard was constructed in such a way as to obstruct the individual’s linear forward movement toward the temple. Ritual participants would have to change course, possibly presenting votive offerings in the process and placing them on one of the benches in one of the entrance rooms, and then enter into a courtyard complex with multiple altars, offering tables and maṣṣebot stations. This was as close to the temple as most would get, standing just a few meters away from the towering temple while partaking in outdoor ritual, possibly communal consumption. By the later strata, the point of entry (and exit) shifted. No longer was the approach more or less in line with the temple entrance, but now from the east of the temple (and possibly a narrow entrance/exit on the west as well). Thus, as the temple at Hazor developed in complexity, the control over the movement of people into and out of the courtyard became increasingly controlled. Bodies that once moved directly toward the temple, albeit through a bent-axis temenos gate, now had to proceed in a roundabout manner to arrive at the temple courtyard. This coincided with a number of other major architectural changes and reorientations at Hazor in Stratum 1B, including the construction of Building 7050 on the acropolis.
43
My measurements according to the plans (Ben-Tor 1989: Plan XXXVIII).
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Comparing the temple interior to the courtyard space is also important. In Stratum 3, the ratio of the area of the courtyard to that of the temple was greatest, although it is unclear how large the temenos actually was. In Stratum 2, the area of the temple courtyard was nearly that of the temple interior. However, as the house of the gods, the temple interior had much more restricted access. The temple interior was also more limited in the use of space due to furnishings, most evident in the finds from the Stratum 1A temple. Texts from Emar indicate the setting up of tables for consumption in temple interiors as well. These could have been removed after their use, or if made of organic materials, disappeared from the archaeological record altogether. If empty, the temple cella (13.5 x 8.9 m) in Stratum 2 could have held 120–360 individuals. Additional space in the entrance hall and flanking rooms (4.9 x 4.3 m and 2.7 x 4.2 m, respectively) would have facilitated an additional 43–129 persons. Thus, 163–489 possible individuals could have fit inside the Stratum 2 temple at any given time. However, this is a gross overestimate. It is not logical that so many people would have been allowed inside the innermost chambers of the temple. The actual number of ritual participants inside the temple at any given time would have been minimal, as these interior spaces would have been furnished, had benches lining the walls and pillars restricting the standing space. These temples in fact had very little traffic moving into and out of them. For large group gatherings, the exterior space would have been the preferred space to use. Theoretically, the Stratum 1B cella (8 x 13.3 m) could hold 106–318 individuals, the pro-cella (5.8 x 5 m) could hold 29–87, and the entrance hall (9.8 x 4.8 m) an additional 47–141 people. Again, the estimate here of 182–546 is much larger than the actual number of allowed participants. I would suggest somewhere in the realm of dozens, not even the low hundreds, makes significantly more sense for only the most densely-attended events. On most occasions, only a small portion of the temple personnel would have been required to attend internal cultic affairs. Many more people were regularly present in the courtyards. It is also interesting to note that over time, the ratio of courtyard space to temple size decreased. In Stratum 3, the courtyard was projected to be at least 30 m wide. In Stratum 2 while the temple itself remained unchanged, the courtyard temenos decreased in size. In Stratum 1B, when the site underwent significant changes at large, the temple edifice became larger, while the courtyard became smaller and less accessible. It might be that as political changes were altering the urban landscape of Hazor, it affected the practice of, access to, and the exclusiveness of cult in the Area H temple. The numbers of individuals that could fit in the temple temenos at any given time was only a small fraction of the overall estimated population size of 18,500 people. In Stratum 2, a gross overestimate of individuals that could stand in the courtyard and temple interior, if all floor space was available (which it would not have been) would be 951 (the sum of interior and courtyard calculations, 489+462). This overestimate is only 5.1% of the total population estimate. This temple would have therefore provided space for only a limited number of people. These could have been elites or individuals from the lower city, mainly but not exclusively adult males with special ritual and/or social status or roles. There is also limited evidence for females partaking in, or employed by, temple institutions as well (cf. Section 17.4.1). It is clear that there was not enough space for all. Thus, multiple movements of participants would have had to enter and exit the temple precinct at different intervals. 5.2.1.2 Building 7050 5.2.1.2.1 Stratigraphy Building 7050 was the largest migdal temple in Canaan (40 x 35 m). Not surprisingly, the entrance opened up into a very large courtyard measuring ca. 30 x 30 m, or 900 m2, with a large altar 7 m directly in front of the building’s entrance and two rows of column bases on either side.44 The 900 m2 would correspond to between 900–2,700 participants that could stand in the courtyard at any one given time. Whether all the space was ever used is hard to say. Further, the question of who had access to the precinct is also difficult to discern. On the one hand, the monumental size and the location atop the acropolis suggests the temple might have been reserved for elites and their guests. The building’s large size was not solely for functional purposes but was also a product of elite emulation. The hyperbolically large proportions also signify and demonstrate the elites’ ability to organize a large work force and execute a large civic construction project. On the other hand, even if the temple was intended for elite purposes, large segments of the urban population could have entered
44
Measurements are my own, based on sketches in Bonfil and Zarzecki-Peleg (2007: Fig. 4).
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the precinct to participate in large communal processionals and events. Not only were prestige goods offered, ritually destroyed and deposited in the temple, but large amounts of ash and bones from the courtyard area would indicate sacrifice and feasting as well (Zuckerman 2010: 176; Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007). 5.2.1.2.2 Analysis The main hall (“throne room”) was 12.5 x 12.9 m, or ca. 161 m2 (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 86). The entrance chamber was ca. 17 x 9 m, or 153 m2. Therefore, ca. 161–483 individuals could have fit into the main hall, while another 153–459 in the entrance. These gross overestimates, in any event, are small compared to the 900–2,700 participants calculated for the courtyard space. Comparing this to Area H, one might take notice that the temple structure is quite comparable to the size of the courtyard, as was noted in the Area H temple. However, the massive walls of Building 7050 created more limited interior space in which the density estimates for the interior space were much lower than those for the estimated maximum crowd size in the courtyard. Taking the maximum estimates, 3,642 individuals could have stood in the temple and its courtyard if the entire space was empty and available for standing (the sum of temple interior and courtyard spaces, 942+2,700). This, however, is an extremely high estimate, as a large ramp, storage jars, large pillar bases, and other furnishings would have prevented that many people from sharing the space at any given moment. Even so, this would only account for 19.7% of the estimated population size of Hazor. Thus, the acropolis structure and its associated courtyard had a larger carrying capacity than the Area H temple. Regarding the approach to this structure, two possible approaches have been suggested that lead to Building 7050, either a route leading from Area M south towards the precinct, or a route leading west from the Area P city gate. Both topographically led from lower to higher terrain (Bonfil and Zarzecki-Peleg 2007: 27– 31). The monumental temple standing at the highest point of the settlement would have been visible from most locations in the area, and the approach from the complex in Area M leading uphill toward Building 7050 would have created an elevated sense of awe. As an aside, the area M complex was likely a large palace, thus providing the royalty of Hazor during the LB II with superb access to and control of the temple precinct to the south (see Zuckerman 2010). 5.2.1.3
Area C
In contrast to the monumental structures of Areas H and A, the Area C Stelae Temple was a small shrine (ca. 4.5 x 5.8 m, 26 m2) that lacked space for large groups of individuals. Rather, the open courtyard between the shrine and the surrounding buildings to the north, east and south would have been a central communal space for ritual and consumption. 5.2.1.3.1 Stratigraphy The reconstructed courtyard of Stratum 1B was ca. 15 x 12 m (my estimates based on Yadin et al. 1960: Pl. CCVIII), or 180 m2. An additional area of 3 x 10 m to the shrine’s south could have provided 30 m2 of additional standing space. Thus, 210–630 individuals could have been present in this open area outside of the Stelae Temple, contrasting from the small number of individuals that could have stood in the Stelae Temple interior at any given time. 5.2.1.3.2 Analysis Considering the Area C Stelae Temple was integrated into an urban neighborhood, it would appear that this shrine and the associated courtyard were not intended for the entire city but rather for local residents of the neighborhood. The open courtyard in Stratum 1B emphasized local communal activities, encouraged local connectivity and had multiple access points to the surrounding domestic structures and alleyways navigating the neighborhood. The exclusiveness and lack of space within the shrine was offset by the open space outside. Although the shrine, raised podium/niche and maṣṣebot were the focal point of the cult in this area, the courtyard was the space and place within which the majority of rituals and consumption would have taken place. In stark contrast to the migdal temples and their restricted courtyard entrances, the Stelae Temple was not built on elevated terrain nor was it massive in size, it did not impose an impression of monumentality upon viewing it, it did not have significant hierarchic access, and in fact the courtyard layout was one that encouraged inclusiveness and relatively unrestricted accessibility. In Stratum 1A, this changed, as a new
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approach significantly restricted access to the Stelae Temple’s entrance and cut it off from any possibility of courtyard activities. This indicates that the cult as practiced in Area C was altered, possibly taken over by an exclusive group of elites. 5.2.2 Megiddo The earlier strata of the MB cultic precinct at Megiddo were open air. In the MB III, a migdal temple, Temple 2048, was constructed within the palatial complex (Fig. 5.1). 5.2.2.1
Stratigraphy
In Stratum X, Temple 2048 appears to have had a broad courtyard area that measured ca. 9.5 x 20 m, or 190 m2 (my own calculations based on Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: Fig. 15). Thus, 190–570 individuals could be present in the temple courtyard at any given time. The approach to the temple courtyard was restricted and controlled by the palatial structure into which it was integrated (the Nordburg to the west). The temple interior itself measured 11.5 x 9.6 m, or 110 m2. The corresponding 110–330 individuals would be a gross overestimate, particularly because the temple interior was furnished with many objects (Loud 1948: 104–105, Figs. 254, 261). Thus, the available space for standing and moving within the temple interior would have been limited and no more than a few dozen individuals would have likely been able to set foot inside the temple at any given time. 5.2.2.2
Analysis
Access to the temple was as follows (Fig. 5.1). A corridor was entered to the north of the temple and led through a gated area into the courtyard (Square M13). The corridor progressively widened, allowing more access as one proceeded further along the walkway. Like at Alalakh Level VII, the temple was initially conceived of as part of the palatial fabric. Although Temple 2048 was an imposing building constructed on artificially raised terrain that would have been visible from afar, the temple and its access were somewhat hidden behind the palatial complex and a complex system of corridors and alleyways. Thus, as one navigated through the corridor southwards, only the temple’s western façade was visible. Not until the ritual participant turned the corner eastwards (Square N13) and entered the temple courtyard through its bent-axis approach could the temple in its monumentality be fully experienced and viewed from the front. In addition to this one approach, two other routes might have led into the courtyard, one from the south of the corridor (Squares O/N13) and the other through the complex of alleys and auxiliary buildings to the east of the temple (Squares O/M/N14/15). This raises the possibility for multiple points of access to the temple, or possibly as a means of controlling the flow of traffic, movements of ritual participants would enter the temple through one access point while exiting through another. An additional consideration is that multiple entrances could indicate different statuses of ritual participants moving through the temple complex, with more important, prestigious elites and ritual personnel entering from different spaces than other lower status individuals. The layout and arrangement of the courtyard changed throughout the LB, but the walls of the temenos are unclear. It is important to note though that during the LB, the palace was relocated, leaving the temple to stand more prominently and isolated within the cultic precinct (see Loud 1948; Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: 180– 4). 5.2.3 Tel Haror Ample evidence for cultic activity was found in the courtyard areas surrounding the migdal temple, contrasting significantly from the paucity of finds from inside the temple itself. I analyze one stratum here. 5.2.3.1
Stratigraphy
In Stratum V, well-defined walls surrounding the courtyard were recovered, including a 30 m long temenos wall (8022) along the north side of the courtyard, and another wall potentially enclosing the courtyard area to the east (Fig. 4.25). The courtyard, including the fixtures and structures, is estimated to have been ca. 350
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m2.45 Thus, between 350–1,050 individuals could have been present in the courtyard performing various activities at any given time. This contrasts from the space within the temple interior, which was about 41 m2 (5.5 x 7.5 m) and could have held a maximum of 41–123 individuals (a gross overestimate). Installations in the courtyard limited the maximum available space for ritual. For example, many offering pits were dug, an altar (L8269) was found surrounded by ash, bones, pottery, and decorated and miniature vessels, and a number of structures were built as auxiliary rooms. L8094 (2.5 x 5.5 m) was a room with benches and niches in its walls in which large amounts of ash, miniature vessels and bowls were recovered. Ritual-related activities clearly took place in this room, possibly in connection to the nearby altar that had a bent-axis approach to the room. Further to the east (L8375) many storage installations were found suggesting it functioned as a storage facility or a kitchen (Katz 2009: 38; cf. Nahshoni 2015: 34, Fig. 31). 5.2.3.2
Analysis
At Tel Haror, it is apparent that significant amounts of cultic activity took place outside of the temple. The courtyard was a complex precinct composed of open spaces, auxiliary rooms, altars, offering benches, and favissae. Tel Haror provides new insights into Canaanite cult: the use of side rooms for cultic purposes, the multiple focal points of ritual activity throughout the courtyard area, and the high frequency of use of miniature vessels (cf. Section 13.2.3). The migdal temple at Tel Haror was small, with very little interior space. Thus, it was likely rarely used and only by a restricted group of ritual personnel (Brandl et al. 2014). 5.2.4 Tell el-Dab‘a The large courtyard area facing the entrance to Tell el-Dab‘a’s migdal temple, Temple III, was composed of an altar and was likely shaded by oak trees, possibly symbolizing Asherah (Fig. 4.26). The courtyard measured roughly 20 x 27 m, or 540 m2 (my measurements based on Bietak 1996: Figs. 30, 31). This space would correspond to a range of 540–1,620 individuals that could have partaken in cultic activities at any given time in the temple courtyard. The temple, in its tripartite form, had ca. 290 m2 of available standing space (ibid.) corresponding to 290–870 possible individuals.46 However, much of that space would not have been accessible to large groups of individuals, as has been argued at other temples. Interestingly, the dimensions of the temple courtyard were comparable to those of the temple itself (cf. Hazor, Shechem, Tell el-Hayyat). Bietak and Müller have suggested that ritual activities were focused in the courtyard and other associated structures (e.g. Bietak 2002; Müller 2002). Throughout the courtyard, twelve offering pits (favissae) were found with large deposits of ceramic vessels and animal bones. These deposits were the remains of feasts and attest to on-site slaughter, cooking, and consumption. Most of the bones were from cattle, with fewer amounts of sheep/goat. Strikingly, pig was completely absent. This was in contrast to the other nearby temples (of Egyptian, not Canaanite layouts) which did have evidence of pig (Müller 2002).47 Thus, it was the courtyard where most activities were performed. These activities revolved around frequent large-scale feasts, the deposition of the remains of those large communal events, the ritualized breaking of vessels after their use, and sacrifice. 5.2.5 Ugarit Both acropolis temples at Ugarit had temenos walls setting apart a courtyard area from the approach to the temples from the south. Only the Temple of Ba‘al courtyard is re-constructible (Fig 4.12). 45
These are my measurements, based on the plans in Katz. In short, the complex from these later strata were difficult to determine. In her Stratum IVb (now called Stratum V by Nahshoni), roughly 20 x 8 m or ca. 150 m2 were to the east of the temple entrance. The area between the temple and middle wall is roughly 172.5 m2: from the rectangular area from wall 8213 down to 8705, north to area of wall 8069, plus the triangular area along the temple and the remaining area along the temple exterior. An additional 15 m2 is at the northern end of nook west of room 8094. So 150 + 187.5 + 13.75 (room 8094) is 350 m2. It is important to remember not all this space was open since it was a complex of rooms, pits, altars and open space. 46 This calculation is based on the cella measurement of 13 x 8 m (104 m2), the narrow central corridor measuring ca. 4 x 15 m (60 m2), and the entrance hall measuring 7 x 18 m (126 m2). 47 This accords with the notion of cattle being the choicest of domesticated animals (and thus being overrepresented in the temple precinct as the finest offerings) and of a general Canaanite pig taboo in ritual contexts (cf. Tell el-Hayyat and Tel Haror).
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Stratigraphy
The temple courtyard measured 12 x 13 m, or 156 m2. Thus, 156–468 could have partaken in ritual in the courtyard at any given time. This compares to ca. 152 m2 of floorspace inside the temple (my own calculation based on Yon 2006: Fig. 62). Three meters in front of the temple entrance was a large 2 x 2 m altar. A total of 17 stone anchors were found throughout the temple precinct, four of which stood at the entrance to the temple cella. Additionally, four stone anchors were built into the temenos wall and the rest were scattered about the precinct (Yon 2006: 109; Frost 2009: 396). Thus, as one approached the temple moving north and into higher terrain, the individual would first pass through the temenos into a courtyard with an altar directly opposite the temple entrance. From the courtyard, the massive towers and high roof of the migdal temple and the view of the sea to the west would have created a sense of awe. As votive offerings, the anchors functioned as symbols within the cult that created a relationship between the storm god Ba‘al, the nearby sea, and the temple’s worshippers. 5.2.5.2
Analysis
Although a contextual and spatial analysis of the courtyard space is not possible as it was for other temples analyzed above, it seems that the majority of ritual and large-scale events were held in the courtyard. Again, the size of the courtyard space was comparable to that of the temple. Since Ugarit was an urban center with about 5,000 residents, the temple would not have provided enough space for all to participate. However, the Temple of Dagan and other temples and shrines at Ugarit (Yon 2006: 49, 82–83) might have served as additional locations for ritual and cultic activities. Thus, the strategies utilized for performing cultic activities and including large numbers of individuals in cultic spaces were complex at Ugarit and included integrating different types of cultic architecture throughout different locations of the settlement.
5.3
Open-Air Sites
Whereas the monumental temples and courtyards were separated from the rest of the city via temenos walls, the open-air sites had a different orientation. Whereas Nahariya lacked a temenos wall, the Temple of the Obelisks at Byblos and the High Place at Gezer were open-air precincts within urban settings but separated from their surroundings. 5.3.1 Nahariya The lack of monumental or standardized architecture and the use of outdoor space typifies this site, contrasting it from urban sites with monumental temples. The natural landscape would have framed the religious experience quite differently. The lack of restricted spaces and the high accessibility and free movement indicate egalitarian-like tendencies, distancing the cult and its precinct from the ritual and social hierarchies that were created in controlled and confined settings created by temenos walls and built-up temple infrastructure. 5.3.1.1
Stratigraphy
Although no temenos wall was located, there is a clear space within which the cultic activity mainly was conducted. In Stratum IV, for example, a new building was constructed 3–4 m north of the bammah (Fig. 4.2). It is possible this building was associated with activities for preparing food or offerings. If so, the movement of ritual participants and cultic personnel can be mapped out from the indoor to outdoor space. Beginning indoors, offerings would be prepared, possibly food for communal feasts. Upon exiting the building, one would move due south 9 m. At this point, stairs heading up the bammah were located directly to the east, while to the west was an altar (Locus 11). Situated in a narrow 4 m space between these two loci of cultic activity within the precinct, a heightened sense of sanctity would be encountered. This is unquestionably supported by evidence of deposits rich with cultic vessels, figurines and other objects that were buried in the vicinity of the altar (Locus 11) and Locus 8 (cf. Section 12.1.2). 5.3.1.2
Analysis
It is clear that the path individuals would have taken from the building to the altar and bammah was not merely physical space being navigated but was perceived as space with heightened sanctity, probably via the
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proximity to the main focal points of cultic activity at the site. Nahariya’s location near the Mediterranean coast, near natural springs, outside of any settlement, the lack of temenos walls, and its wealth of cultic vessels created a unique setting for a Canaanite cult site. The open-air nature created an inclusive environment, yet the careful selection in the placement of the cultic installations controlled movement and forged and framed religious experience. This contrasted significantly from urban migdal temples which instilled impressions of monumentality, limited and restricted access, and hierarchy upon the included, and excluded, ritual participants. 5.3.2 Byblos At Byblos, the Temple of the Obelisks was part of a large courtyard complex (Fig. 4.4). 5.3.2.1
Stratigraphy
According to my calculations based on the temple’s plans (Dunand 1958: Fig. 767), the courtyard immediately surrounding the cella was ca. 265 m2. Additionally, the courtyard (avant-cour) outside the inner complex was an additional 127.5 m2. The entire complex is ca. 800–900 m2. Thus, within the immediate vicinity of the obelisk installations, a range of 265–795 individuals could have participated in cultic activity at any given time. More open space in the avant-cour would have provided additional room for about 130–390 individuals. The lack of cultic finds from the avant-cour seems to indicate it functioned as a large corridor for passing through en route to the obelisk installations (ibid.). Another path possibly led to the west court as well. One can trace movement from a probable eastern entrance on the north of the temple complex. It led through a narrow corridor which opened into a more spacious chapel. Upon entering the chapel, directionality was shifted southwards toward the entrance into the antichambre, which led directly into the cella itself. Depending on the size of the walls, visibility of the towering obelisks was likely blocked at times as ritual participants proceeded toward the temple courtyard. Upon arriving at the cella (if individual worshippers were indeed granted access), participants would have encountered an impressively large standing stone erected in the center. Then, proceeding into the courtyard, participants would have been surrounded by the most impressive of maṣṣebot installations known in the Levant. It was in this open-air courtyard where most cultic activities took place and where hundreds of participants could have presented votive offerings and participated in rituals in various areas around the courtyard. The large amounts of ritual participants and immense investiture is best represented by the rich deposits found in the courtyard area (ibid.). 5.3.2.2
Analysis
The population estimate of Byblos was 2,500. Thus, at any given time, a maximum of 1,185 individuals (795+390) could have been present at the Temple of the Obelisks, that is, 47% of the overall population of the settlement. Like at Nahariya, large communal events are evident in the open-air space. The associated structures created more limited and restricted access to the precinct and unquestionably affected the experience of ritual participants. While most have stressed the nature of the offerings, deposits of metal objects, the worship based around the obelisk-shaped standing stones (e.g. Sala 2015: 44–47), I would additionally suggest that consumption also took place in the courtyard space as well as processions that moved from one sacred space at Byblos to the next (ibid.). Further, when compared to other urban temples, the open-air precinct at Byblos was much more inclusive of the urban population. 5.3.3 Gezer Gezer’s MB III High Place was likely not surrounded by a temenos wall (Fig. 4.9). It was open air and composed of ten tall maṣṣebot that were surrounded by a low wall (Dever 2014: 25–26). Next to the maṣṣebot stood a large rectangular stone basin (ibid.). In contrast to the Temple of the Obelisks in Byblos which was a large complex that had a cella and temenos walls, the Gezer High Place remained more open. The standing stones were visible from far distances, possibly throughout the entire site. Further, much of the populace could have congregated at the same time to partake in communal rituals in view of the maṣṣebot. Gezer therefore exhibits both similarities to and differences with other open-air sites. Similar to Nahariya, the High Place was an accessible and unrestricted space. However, unlike at Nahariya, Gezer’s High Place was urban
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and had a local populace to serve. At Nahariya, it was the natural landscape that framed the experience. At Gezer, it was a combination of natural and urban landscapes and the monumentality of the stone monoliths which directed cultic attention. Similar to at Byblos, numerous large maṣṣebot were the focusing devices for the cult. Yet, the lack of walls and built infrastructure sets the Gezer maṣṣebot apart from those at Byblos.
5.4
Temple Courtyards: Access Points to the Divine
Courtyard spaces were used for a number of different activities. This chapter explored how accessible temple courtyards were, how many individuals could physically fit into courtyard spaces during large-scale communal events, and how inclusive, or exclusive, temples and their courtyards might have been. I have demonstrated that temple courtyards were more accessible than temple interiors. Further, while temple interiors when empty often had comparable amounts of floor space to temple courtyards, they facilitated significantly less traffic. This was due to the sanctity of the space as well as to the numerous furnishings that were often placed inside. Temple courtyards, on the other hand, could be much more densely packed with larger volumes of individuals participating in rituals. Within large temples in urban settings, it was demonstrated that there was not nearly enough space for all members of the settlement to participate in rituals at the same time. Thus, the answer to the research question posited in this chapter’s introduction is no, temples and courtyards were not spacious enough for entire settlement populations. In most cases, only a small fragment of the population could fit into the courtyards at any given time. This suggests that urban, elite temples (migdal temples) were either intended for an exclusive group of individuals (elites, ritual personnel, heads of households) or were used in intervals for multiple movements of people into and out of the temple precinct. If only certain groups were granted access to the courtyards, these spaces were counter to Canaanite cultic notions of forging group identity based around communal activities. However, if the spaces were intended to be accessible to and facilitate all sectors of the settlement, then their forms created an inherent tension between their inclusive intentions and their exclusionary limitations on participants. In open-air sites there were fewer controlled points of liminality restricting and limiting access to more sacred, constructed spaces. Thus, participation was more inclusive and possibly less hierarchic than in the elite-controlled temple precincts. In urban settings, it is likely that larger portions of settlement populations could partake in group ritual at the same time. Relating to what these individuals did in courtyards, the following observations have been made. At certain sites, the actual path in which ritualized bodies proceeded during their approach toward the temenos could be reconstructed. Often, large groups of people performing different ritualized activities during processions passed through temples and temple courtyards (cf. Section 17.3.4). Upon entry into the courtyard, altars for making sacrifices and presenting votive offerings were frequently encountered. Perhaps unsurprisingly, these were often associated with large amounts of ash and refuse of animal bones. At certain sites like Hazor and Tel Haror, additional altars, ancillary installations and auxiliary rooms were found throughout the large courtyard complex indicating a multitude of activities. Upon entering cultic precincts, bodies were only fully ritualized after undergoing a number of various sensory-inducing activities (Hamilakis 2011). During feasts, individuals aroused their sense of taste while eating and drinking in the presence of other ritual participants and the deities. Utterances, song and dance, could have been performed as well (cf. Sections 16.3.1, 17.6). Cymbals yielded at a number of temples indicate that sound-inducing instruments were used in cultic contexts. The sense of smell would further have been aroused by sacrifices, aromatic oils, and the burning of incense (but see Section 16.3.3). All would be exposed to and engulfed by the same overwhelming scents as activity in the courtyard proceeded. The careful placement of objects of iconographic significance such as statuary and lion orthostats (Hazor) would have helped frame the religious experiences for those who knew the mythologies and symbolism imbedded within those objects. In unique cases, the placement of stone anchors within cultic contexts (Byblos, Ugarit) would have induced recollections of the connections between maritime traditions and the nature of the cult practiced in those temples. In urban settings, the process of entering into sacred space passed through a liminal zone (a gate) and often proceeded upon raised terrain, leading toward and bringing into view a more restricted monumental and imposing temple. All of these abovementioned sensory-inducing activities framed the experience for the individuals standing in the temple courtyard. This experience must be contrasted from open-air cultic spaces
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removed from large temple edifices. Liminality would have been experienced differently. Although rituals at sites such as Nahariya, Byblos and Gezer would have similarly involved sensory-inducing activities, their settings in natural landscape were essential components in framing those activities. Focus of visibility was not on a single element, such as monumental architecture, but rather was dispersed throughout. Effectively, as in larger temple courtyards, the focus of open-air sites was the open and natural landscape, allowing larger groups to come together in large numbers to partake in joint communal ritual activities.
Chapter 6 Synthesis and Conclusions Part II set out to achieve aim (1), to define where Canaanite cultic activities were conducted. In doing so, the underlying research question focused on establishing the different types of Canaanite temples. In the process, seven additional questions were asked (cf. Section 1.3). Two of these questions have still not been directly addressed: how does temple architecture in the southern Levant compare to temple architecture from elsewhere in the ANE; and how does the architecture of Canaanite temples relate to local non-cultic architecture of the region? 6.1
Southern Levantine Temples as Houses?
In Section 3.1, it was demonstrated that temples in the ANE were referred to as houses of gods. Architecturally, temples in Mesopotamia through the millennia were basically structured and functioned as large households (Roaf 1995: 426–431; Margueron 1997: 165–167; Averbeck 2010: 6–8). This is evident when comparing plans of temples (Fig. 6.1) to those of domestic spaces (Fig. 6.2). These buildings were multi-chambered structures, constructed around large open courtyards. A temple as the house of the deity made sense to people in all levels of society and so constructing temples according to recognizable household architectural norms created a physical representation of the temple being the location of a divine household (Averbeck 2010: 6). It has often been argued that Canaanite temples were also structured based on domestic architecture, primarily focusing on the broad-room layouts of temples and houses. However, beyond that one detail, very little in fact indicates that temples in the MB and LB southern Levant were modeled after a recognizable household form. To the contrary, Canaanite temples stand out as being uniquely distinguishable from domestic structures of the time, which were generally multi-chambered, non-symmetrical structures with courtyards featured as part of the interior space (Fig. 6.3; cf. Ben-Dov 1992). Palatial architecture, such as the large palace at Kabri in the MB (Fig. 6.4), much more closely resembled household architecture (Oren 1992). Kamlah argued that in the MB, there was a shift from imaging the deity’s dwelling in terms of local domestic architectural traditions to conceptualizing the deity’s dwelling as something distinctly and profoundly exceptional (Kamlah 2012: 516). I agree with the statement, but not for the same reasoning. Kamlah perceived a shift away from broad-room layouts as the evidence for conceptualizing temples as exceptional. I, on the other hand, see the layouts and locations of cultic spaces on the whole as different than domestic and palatial architecture. There was no question that locals would perceive temples, small shrines, or openair precincts as architecturally unique in the landscape. Not only would this create a cognitive association of awe when encountering a space that was organized as “the other,” but this also lends itself to the interpretation that temples were not meant to confine deities. Yes, temples, courtyards and the associated sacrifices and rituals were interfaces for interacting with and worshipping deities. However, from an architectural viewpoint, temples were not intended to be divine households. Canaanite temples were conduits for bringing the divine into the mundane world, to sanctify the urban, rural and natural landscapes that lay beyond the cultic spaces.
6.2
Integrating Temple and Temple Courtyard
Part II demonstrated that cultic activity took place in a number of different types of spaces. There was significant heterogeneity in cultic architecture, with the exception of the standardized form of the migdal temples that were mainly established by elites, or by rural communities emulating elites. Within various settings, human agency can be witnessed, whether that of cultic personnel in constructing and augmenting ritual space or in defining and controlling ritual rules, or of lower status individuals who at various times could participate in ritual and bring votive offerings to be forfeited and offered at the temple. The different behavioral patterns noted in different temples are a testament to various geographic, political, economic, social, cultural and religious factors that actively influenced decision-making. Thus, homogeneity should not be expected, and certainly is not evident, in the survey of MB and LB Canaanite cultic sites analyzed in Part II. Part II also identified a number of different settings within which temples were constructed. The earliest evidence of Canaanite cult in the MB took place either in extramural or rural settings, largely in open-air
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settings removed from monumental infrastructure. This was a continuation of a trend already established in the IBA. These sites emphasized egalitarian-like communal and commensal activities, with cult being a tool for reinforcing group identity. There is little evidence of hierarchy, and the activities at these sites organized and solidified individuals into a group while transforming the natural landscape into an integral part of the religious landscape. They were also generally aniconic in nature. Although these characteristics continue later into the MB and LB, there was a constant tension between inclusive and exclusive tendencies of Canaanite cult. Already early in the MB, new rituals appeared (use of miniature vessels, cultic stands) and increased ritual and social hierarchy is evident (Nahariya has a wide display of prestige offerings). This tension became more apparent once religion was integrated into urban and elite settings. In urban centers, migdal temples were constructed, particularly in the second half of the MB, often in association with elite structures or palaces. While these temples were particularly large and had spacious courtyards facing the entrance, they inherently created hierarchic relations amongst the population: those who were granted access to the precincts, and those who were not. In contrast to the easily accessible and inclusive open-air cultic spaces, migdal temples were monumental structures, often built on raised terrain with stairs leading up into increasingly elevated spaces and within a restricted temenos. in order to create an imposing impression, one that was not natural at all. These temples demonstrate a high degree of symmetry, a symmetry that collapsed when entering the courtyards which were significantly less symmetrically oriented. This signals a contrast between the most restrained and controlled of actions that could take place within the constructed temple edifices and the more free-access movement that the populace undertook in the courtyards. Underscoring this contrast, the interior spaces of these temples have been referred to as hollow boxes (Bourke 2012: 165–169); they were rarely used and only by a restricted group of ritual personnel (Brandl et al. 2014). However, temple courtyards represent many of the noted traits of MB Canaanite open-air cult When the southern Levantine society became more politically fragmented in the LB, many new temples of irregular plan were constructed, often as roadside shrines, in rural settings, or otherwise beyond the control of urban elites. These temples were comparatively small and not according to any clear standardized layout. It is possible that the exclusivity and imbalanced hierarchy that is represented by the migdal temples, in combination with a multitude of other factors in the LB, created a need for new non-elite temples to emerge. Chapter 5 dealt specifically with temple courtyards and the relationship between the use of temple exteriors versus temple interiors. In urban settings, only a small portion of a settlement’s population could fit in the temple precinct at any given time. This indicates that either only privileged individuals were granted access, or that all were granted access but not at the same time. In contrast, open-air precincts in rural and extramural sites were particularly inclusive in nature. In constructed, urban settings, it is possible that the courtyard had a symbolic function of bringing the cult back into the natural landscape. The courtyards were the spaces where the majority of ritual participants would be located. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there was a correlation between a site’s population size, temple size, and the estimated number of individuals that could fit in the temple courtyards. Thus, the maximal capacity of the complexes at Hazor Area A and Tell el-Dab‘a, the two largest sites analyzed, were the largest. Further, at Hazor where multiple temples were constructed, the courtyard of Building 7050 in Area A, likely the main cultic space of the city elites, was significantly larger than the still impressive but smaller lower city Area H temple courtyard. In fact, there was not nearly enough courtyard space to facilitate settlement-wide ritual and ceremonies at any site. Taking all of Hazor temples into account, for example, there still was not enough constructed cultic space for the entire populace to partake in public and communal ritual activities at the same time. If cult was to be integrated into urban life, temples and temple courtyards were not able to fully serve all individuals in this process. While these courtyards induced elements of communal activities and experiences, they still inevitably restricted and limited the vast majority of the inhabitants at any given time. In the act of forging bonds between the populace and the cult, hierarchy was inevitably maintained. It is evident that different temple-types controlled movement and framed experience in various ways. In the more complex built-up settings, ritual participants navigated alleyways, passed through corridors, turned corners leading into bent-axis entrances, transitioned through liminal zones into courtyards within temenoi, and only then encountered the inner most temple edifice. Passing through points of liminality indicates ritual transformations as one entered from a less to more sacred space, or from a more accessible to less accessible space. It also indicates hierarchy (cf. Sections 17.3.4, 17.4.2). Certain individuals constructed and controlled those points of liminality, while other individuals were essentially forced to pass through them in order to
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gain access to more restricted zones. Thoughts and actions were accordingly manipulated by the confined spaces, imposing walls, the manipulation of movement and directionality and eventually the arrival at the open and more interactive courtyards. This control over access is thus far evident at a few urban sites (e.g. Hazor, Megiddo) and in general is better situated in urban, and hierarchic, landscapes. This contrasts with non-urban temples and open-air cultic spaces that displayed higher levels of accessibility in terms of the spatial syntax of the sites, lacking restricted temenoi and in general integrating the natural landscape into a more accessible form of cult. Thus, the experience of ritual participants at a cultic site like Nahariya and at a site with a migdal temple was very different. The experience of engaging in cultic activity in natural settings and removed from architecture was in stark contrast to that which was experienced in urban settings within monumental temple precincts. All the more so when considering urban settings situated cult within a broader context of settlements immensely fortified by ramparts, with massive city walls, and in association with palaces and elites. Part II has therefore achieved aim (1), identifying where Canaanite cult took place. In identifying these spaces, it determined that architecturally, Canaanite temples differed from other ANE temples and from local domestic and palatial structures. Thus, the concept of a temple as the house of the gods does not translate to architectural forms in the region. In this study’s effort to arrive at a deeper understanding of the cultic landscape and the experience of Canaanite religion, I have argued that Canaanites actively made spaces (temples in general) into places (subjective, meaningful, site-specific). Part III will deal with the activities that were performed within Canaanite cultic spaces.
Part III Activities in Canaanite Temples
Chapter 7 Identifying Activities in the Archaeological Record: Introduction and Methodology Part III will address aim (2) of this book, to determine the activities and rituals that were performed within Canaanite cultic spaces (cf. Section 1.3). The fundamental research question guiding Part III is the following: what activities were performed within southern Levantine cultic spaces during the MB and LB? Part III also asks: how can activities be detected within the archaeological record; how can mundane activities be differentiated from cultic and ritual activities; what were the most common recurring activities conducted within southern Levantine temples; what factors affected the types of activities detected within cultic spaces; and how does the use of space within Canaanite temples compare to and contrast from the use of space within southern Levantine domestic structures and palaces and to the use of space within other ANE temples? Part III is composed of nine chapters. Chapter 7 will first present a methodology for identifying activities. This explicit rubric will serve as a guide for determining the types of activities that took place during ritual. In order to do so, I will specify the types of objects and installations considered in this analysis and when pertinent, discuss and define the possible functions of these items. This discussion will also provide a catalog of the types of objects that are typically found in temples. Following the presentation of the methodology, five case studies will be presented: the Orthostat Temple in Area H at Hazor (Chapter 8), the Stelae Temple in Area C at Hazor (Chapter 9), the Fosse Temple at Lachish (Chapter 10), the roadside sanctuary at Tel Mevorakh (Chapter 11), and the open-air cult place at Nahariya (Chapter 12). Each case study is organized in a similar fashion. First, a contextual analysis of the distribution of finds will be conducted, focusing on a locus-by-locus reconstruction of the findspots of objects within each stratum. This will shed light on all activity areas and installations that were used in the respective temples. Then, an analysis of the behavioral patterns detected within the respective temples will be presented. This analysis will be based on the contextual analysis from the first section and will also discuss cultic and prestige objects and furnishings recovered from the temples. This will be followed by a more holistic discussion of trends and diachronic change of activities within the temples. This last section will also demonstrate how the findings posited in this study compare to, and shed new light on, previous interpretations of the uses of the temples. These are followed by a chapter on activities from other cultic spaces in the southern Levant (Chapter 13) and a chapter on trends in activity types from domestic spaces (Chapter 14). Unfortunately, much of the pertinent material regarding temples is not published. Nonetheless, focusing on a few sites that have been published in full can provide an important starting point for future discussions of Canaanite cultic activities. Thus, the specific case studies that were chosen in this study were determined to be the best published temple sequences to date. Nahariya was also included because of its immense contribution to our knowledge of cult during the MB. While other temples, such as Temple 58066 at Beth Shean, have been published in full, the limited quantities of finds yielded often preclude a detailed analysis of the activities within those spaces. This has additionally prevented a more significant diachronic analysis of Canaanite temples, one which would have the potential to present not only a synchronic survey of the activity types within southern Levantine cultic spaces but also to shed light on geographic and temporal variation and change of temple activities as well as convergent and divergent traditions witnessed in various types of temples (e.g. urban versus rural versus open-air spaces).
7.1
How to Determine Activity Types in Temples: The Need for a Methodology
Most previous studies on Canaanite religion have derived their interpretative method through various forms of textual, architectural or iconographic analysis and generally through religious and anthropological lenses (Section 2.3). This chapter is an attempt to move the discussion of Canaanite cult into the realm of activities and performance of ritual as evidenced by the behavioral patterns indicated within the archaeological data. A number of previous studies in household archaeology (e.g. Daviau 1993) have served as the fundamental basis for formulating the methodology as presented in this work. In fact, recently Daviau’s paradigm (see below) has been applied to analyzing the ceramic assemblages from MB and LB temples and palaces in order to conduct a comparative study of the activity types conducted within Canaanite public spaces (Samet,
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Susnow and Yasur-Landau 2017). This study proved that the application of Daviau’s paradigms can serve as a useful tool for analyzing Bronze Age contexts other than domestic ones. Unfortunately, no similar study has been conducted for those interested in religion or in general in the public spheres of MB and LB Canaan, although there does seem to be an increased interest in investigating household religion (Bodel and Olyan 2008; Albertz and Schmitt 2012; Albertz et al. 2014). Considering that much of the public sphere – both temples and palaces – reflects the domestic sector as well, it might be possible to view temples and palaces as large households with a somewhat wider range of activity types but still well in line with the majority of domestic household activities. This should only be considered a starting point for consolidating a robust methodology for identifying ritual activity in the archaeological record. This methodology will therefore be used to identity activities in temples. It will also be used to explore and emphasize the relationship between mundane and cultic activities, a process which Bell refers to as ritualization (Bell 1992: 88–93) and which reflects cultic practices as largely being patterned after mundane activities but which also entail nuanced distinctions from the mundane in those very actions. Being able to identify what types of activities were performed within cultic contexts will then set the ground work for a discussion on why and how those activities were performed, and how they were effective.
7.2
Methods Used in Household Archaeology
Daviau’s important study on household activities in the MB and LB southern Levant has served as a template for reconstructing household activities for over two decades now (Daviau 1993). The field of household archaeology has grown immensely, both with regards to the Bronze Age as well as the Iron Age (e.g. Wilk and Rathje 1982; Allison 1999; Panitz-Cohen 2006b; Yasur-Landau et al. 2011; Parker and Foster 2012; Müller 2015). Based on ethnographic observation and iconographic depictions, Daviau has identified seven different categories of activity types – “ideal functional paradigms” – that could possibly correlate with assemblages from the southern Levant: food preparation and/or consumption, storage, pottery production, textile manufacture and weaving, personal adornment, economic affairs and recreation, and animal care (Daviau 1993: 47–51: Tables 2.2–2.8).48 In order to do so, she presents the types of ceramic and non-ceramic objects to be considered in the study (ibid.: Tables 2.9–2.10) as well as architectural units that are found in domestic spaces (ibid.: Table 2.11). A major contribution of the study are her suggested percentage values of various objects expected to be found within the different activity type categories (ibid.: Table 2.12).49 Thus, for activities involving food preparation and consumption, she posits the following breakdown of vessel types: 3% cooking tray/oven, 20% cooking pots, 46% bowls, 13% storage jars, 13% jugs/juglets, and 5% other. Household studies generally do not focus on symbolic aspects of the human experience, of which objects and material goods certainly played a major role (Stockhammer 2009; Hodder 2012b; Maran and Stockhammer 2012; Stockhammer 2012). Many objects in fact do not have any particular or obvious functional application. For example, cup-and-saucers, miniature vessels, and ceramic fenestrated stands defy clear functional explanations, and there is no consensus as to the function of any one of these objects. Yet, these objects reoccur largely in cultic contexts (although not exclusively in temples) and therefore played a part in ritual. A methodology related to religion therefore needs to include symbolic and ritualized actions.
7.3
Methodology in the Archaeological Study of Cult: A Rubric for Identifying Activity Types in Cultic Contexts
Based on Daviau’s landmark study, I have built an activity type rubric that indicates, explicitly, the possible types of activities most likely associated with the various object types in an assemblage (Table II). I suggest the following seven categories of activity types are reflected in the material remains of Bronze Age cultic spaces in the southern Levant: consumption, preparation of food or drink, storage, production, personal adornment, objects signifying prestige or status, and ritual or cultic activities. Each activity type has been broken down into subcategories.
48
On the use of ethnographic observations in archaeological interpretation, cf. Steward 1942; Kramer 1982: 3–5; Lyman and O’Brien 2001: 317; Renfrew and Bahn 2008: 190; Trigger 2006: 440–442, 510–511; Hodder 2012a: 11–40). 49 Note that she provides 8 different categories within her weighted functional classes table, where she has split the category of textile manufacture and weaving into two separate paradigms (Daviau 1993: 64–65, Table 2.12).
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7.3.1 Activity Types Categories 7.3.1.1 Consumption This includes both the consumption of food and/or of drink. For the most part, differentiating between the two activities is not distinguishable unless provided with additional evidence such as textual references, residue analysis, or remains of food in vessels or nearby. Primary vessels directly related to consumption are bowls, goblets and possibly chalices (although cf. Section 7.3.2.2 on the function of chalices). Ancillary vessels that could also be associated with consumption, for the purposes of serving for example, include jugs (for both solids and liquids), juglets (for liquids, depending on the size of the vessel), kraters (although these could also be used for storage or food preparation) and platters. Other indications of consumption might include the remains of animal bones, remains such as grains, seeds, pits, etc., or remnants of organic residues not visible to the human eye but identified in a laboratory. 7.3.1.2
Preparation of Food (or Drink)
Vessels directly related to food preparation include cooking pots, baking trays, basalt vessels such as bowls, mortars and pestles, and kraters (although kraters could have served other purposes). In addition, certain installations also help to identify food preparation. These include ovens/tannurs (Ebeling and Rogel 2015) and hearths. Of course, it is expected that other vessels such as bowls and storage jars, as well as silos, could be associated with these activities. 7.3.1.3
Storage
Storage for both solids and liquids is primarily associated with storage jars and pithoi, as well as kraters in certain cases. Distinguishing between solid or liquid storage can be difficult, and unless remains of solid foodstuffs (grains, seeds, pits, etc.) are extant in the vessels and recovered uncontaminated in sealed contexts, only residue analysis or associated texts or inscriptions can help to positively identify the contents. Few studies in the MB and LB southern Levant have demonstrated storage contents by residue analysis, and to date, no direct textual evidence that corresponds to specific archaeological finds exists. A number of installations are also associated with storage, including silos, niches in walls, benches, and shelves. 7.3.1.4
Production
A number of different material groups indicate activities involving production. Here I have included three activity types that are evident in southern Levantine assemblages. Pottery production may be indicated by potters’ wheels and wasters, the presence of associated kilns, or mass-produced vessels made of local clay. Objects related to textile production include loom weights, spindle whorls, needles and awls. Most other objects associated with textiles – such as the textiles themselves – have not survived in the archaeological record. The presence of metal production may be indicated by crucibles, moulds, tweezers, chisels, ash, slag, or metal ingots. Furnaces for firing would also be necessary. Although other types of production existed in the MB and LB southern Levant, they have not been identified in any temple cultic contexts. 7.3.1.5
Personal Adornment
A number of objects are generally associated with activities revolving around personal adornment. These activities take place in all types of spaces (domestic, public, burial). Many objects of personal adornment related to cosmetics and were made different types of materials including ceramic, ivory, glass and faience. These objects included spoons, decorative boxes, mirrors, small vessels that likely carried kohl or perfumes such as metal or faience juglets and flasks, pilgrim flasks and pixides. Other objects for personal adornment include jewelry such as beads (from necklaces?), pendants, earrings, rings, and toggle pins. These items were made of metals (bronze, gold, and silver), faience and a wide variety of stones. 7.3.1.6
Prestige/Status
Many objects found in archaeological assemblages signify something beyond simply functionalistic correlates: prestige and status (of the owner, receiver, or offeror depending on the context). Objects that might indicate prestige or elevated status include an array of imported vessels, decorated pottery bearing iconographic representations, ivory objects (particularly of hoards in great volume), bone objects, inlays and panels
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that once likely adorned furniture, scarabs, cylinder seals, and weapons. Other objects were associated with leisurely activities, such as game pieces and game boards, although these are often understood as cultic as well. 7.3.1.7
Activities Suggesting Ritual
A number of objects indicate the occurrence of non-functional or symbolic activities that could be associated with some form of cultic activity. These include the use of objects indicative of ritualized activity as well as those specifically suggestive of votive offerings. Other activities, such as offering libations or burning incense, are unclear from the archaeological data and can only tentatively be suggested as being related to certain vessel types. Ceramic objects likely indicating ritual activity include miniature vessels, cultic stands, cup-and-saucers, and kernoi. LB chalices might be included in this category as well. Other objects and furnishings that indicate some form of ritual activity include metal and clay figurines, stone statuary, metal plaques bearing iconographic depictions, offering tables, maṣṣebot, cymbals, game boards and pieces (possibly associated with cult and fate being in the hands of the deities), liver models, and astragali. Votive offerings might be indicated in a variety of ways. In general, any cultic object can be understood as a votive offering, especially when contextualized within a cultic setting. It is of course impossible to pinpoint precise uses of objects, particularly cultic ones. As today, it is possible that not all objects were used in accordance with the intent of the creator of that object, nor did owners of similar objects perceive those objects as bearing the same significance, meaning or function. Thus, reconstructing activities based on objects found in any given context can be very difficult. Still, when these objects are found within cultic settings, they can often be associated with votive offerings, as having been used at or brought to the temple and then presented as an offering, or left behind for some other reason. Further, any mundane ceramic object can take on new meaning within the realm of cult. That is to say, a bowl is associated with consumption, but within a temple, a bowl could also be used as a conduit for placing food, liquid, or other objects to be offered at the temple, whether intended for the temple personnel or the deities. The same should be assumed for any mundane personal item or objects associated with production – these could have been used on site, or alternatively the possibility exists that these objects were not used but rather were offered at the temples. Additional indications of votive offerings are the presence of spaces to facilitate the placement of those objects, such as altars, benches, raised platforms, niches and favissae, and the appearance of objects placed inside other vessels. 7.3.2 Types of Objects and Vessels Considered in this Study This study analyzes the distribution of all documented artifacts at cultic sites in order to better identify how ritual actors moved through cultic spaces and the types of activities they performed in and around them. Ecofacts, such as bones, archaeobotanical materials, and other organic remains, are generally not included because they have rarely been properly collected, documented, analyzed and published in temple contexts. Having already suggested the various categories of activity types above, it is important to discuss the function of a number of vessels that have no clear, or multiple, functions. No special treatment is offered here of the most common vessels that appear in ceramic assemblages as the focus is not to reinvent the wheel. 7.3.2.1
Pottery: Definitions and Use
Pinpointing the function of an individual vessel is at times not possible. The multifaceted nature of various objects requires the ceramic vessel to not only be considered on its own but to be evaluated as part of the surrounding assemblage on the whole. For example, a bowl is a vessel that certainly had holding capacity. But did this bowl hold dry food-stuffs (Zuckerman 2007a: 197), liquids (Yasur-Landau et al. 2011: 383), raw organic material being prepared for cooking, or other solids not specifically involved in consumption? Was the substance in the bowl intended for the bowl owner or was the bowl functioning as a receptacle for transferring the contents to another entity? Similar difficulties are encountered when identifying a singular use for juglets or jugs, which might serve variably as containers, scoops or small pitchers, and functionally might be involved in storage, cosmetics, food preparation or consumption (Daviau 1993: 54). Kraters have variously been interpreted as being used for food preparation or for short-term food storage (Arnold 1985: 144–158; Panitz-Cohen 2006a; 2011: 92; Zuckerman 2007a: 197), for activities associated with consumption and serving in general terms (Brody 2011: Tables 1 and 2), for mixing wine (Bietak 2002: 74) and sometimes for
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liquids in general (Yasur-Landau et al. 2011: 388). In fact, it would appear that every vessel type has multiple functions that could possibly be attributed to it. The possibilities multiply two-fold when vessels are recovered from cultic spaces; not only are aspects of human activity being inferred but also aspects of the divine. Further, ceramic typology and morphology change regionally and through time. Should these changes be related to changes in use, or could these variations be attributed to a variety of local styles with no specific bearing on functionality? Before proceeding to the case studies, a number of vessel types most often associated with cultic activity will be discussed. This excludes bowls, kraters, jugs, juglets, cooking pots, storage jars, and lamps. It is clear that variation in these types might signify a range of activity types. For example, a closed bowl might be associated with liquid consumption whereas an open bowl might be associated with the consumption of dry foods. Straight-walled versus globular wheel-made cooking pots might also reflect different functions. Both served as cooking vessels, but possibly for different types of foods. The variation of these two traditions, however, might just as well be due to technological considerations, that is, to the access or lack thereof of a potter’s wheel. The full implications of the morphological range within different types of pottery, and the changes over time, are well worth exploring in general, but are beyond the scope of this research (cf. PanitzCohen 2006a; Bechar 2018). There is ample literature on definitions of the various common types (e.g. Amiran 1969; Maeir 2010). The following briefly discusses and defines the vessels most often associated with cultic activity. 7.3.2.2
Chalices and Goblets
Chalices and goblets are two similar vessels. For the purposes of this book, chalices will be defined as open bowls attached to a high pedestal base. These contrast from goblets (see below) which are closed vessels (Amiran 1969: 95, 129–134, Pl. 40). Chalices are often decorated, usually in the vessel’s interior. In terms of functionality, a number of suggestions have been posited, including vessels for drinking, censers for burning incense, fruit bowls, lamps, lamp stands, and stands to hold offerings (Grutz 2007: 7–9). Grutz rejects most of the above suggested functions: there is a lack of iconographic support for drinking from chalices; the open nature of the bowls would make drinking without spilling a difficult task; and there is a lack of burnt remains on chalice interiors negating any positive evidence of incense burning (ibid.: 9). Rather, he designates chalices as a vessel that “in most cases the bowl is ca. 22 cm or less in diameter and the pedestal is at least 7 cm high” (ibid.: 2). However, it is unclear what these vessels were called in antiquity, and whether vessel diameter or base height were the distinguishing features of the category. Further, by choosing such specific guidelines, most vessels that are considered chalices in this study are excluded, such as those from the Lachish Fosse Temple (ibid.: 4). Yet, the “footed bowls” from Lachish differ from other the other bowls at the site and should indeed be considered chalices (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pls. XLVIA, XLVIAB). Without thorough residue analysis of vessels recovered in excavation, it is difficult to interpret the specific functions of chalices. The analysis of 17 chalices from the Yavneh favissa suggests that chalices, at least at that site, were used for burning incense, ranging from substances containing molecular assemblages with floral origins (possibly jasmine) to heated animal fats (Namdar et al. 2010: 167–168). It is possible that amongst other goals, these substances created hallucination, light-headedness, blurred vision, distortion of time and a general state of intoxication aimed at creating a sense of euphoria and disorientation during rituals (ibid.). Another study has focused on the use of chalices as incense burners along the coast, and on boats, during the LB and Iron Age, based on analogy between Egyptian iconographic representations of incense burning and archaeological data from coastal sites (Yoselevich 2004; cf. Davies and Faulkner 1947, Redford 1986: Pl. 26A). However, it must be stressed that very little analytical work has been conducted on chalices, with studies on organic residues or evidence of burning few and far between. In contrast to the open form of chalices, goblets are closed bowls on pedestal bases. They are often highly decorated with iconography on the vessel’s exterior (e.g. at Deir ‘Alla, Franken 1992). Goblets were made of other precious materials such as faience as well (e.g. James and McGovern 1993: Fig. 68: 10–12). From New Kingdom iconography in Egypt, goblets are portrayed in royal banquets and libation scenes (Killebrew 1998: 95; cf. de G. Davis 1905: Pl. VI; 1923: Pl. XXXIII). Although goblets are known from cultic, burial and domestic contexts, they likely served a special function. This special function could have been cultic or otherwise ceremonial (Killebrew 1998: 96), as well as other forms of demonstrating prestige.
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Miniature Vessels
These are vessels that typologically resemble full sized ones but are significantly smaller and are fashioned more crudely. These vessels most often mimic various forms of bowls, cups and juglets, and one additional special type, the seven-cupped bowl. In terms of functionality, it is unclear for what exactly these were used. Their small sizes would likely preclude otherwise presumed simple functional purposes. Further, their find contexts, mainly from spaces associated with cultic activity, suggests they had special functions within the realm of cult. Miniature vessels, in general, appeared in cultic contexts around the ancient Near East and are not unique to the southern Levant. They are known to have been used in Mesopotamia as early as the 5th millennium B.C.E. (see Naeh 2012a: 71), in Egypt spanning the Old through New Kingdoms (Allen 2006, 2009), as well as in the Aegean and Minoan worlds during the MB and in LB Cyprus (Naeh 2012a: 73–75). The contexts in which these miniatures appear suggest they were either votive offerings or were used in special rituals within cultic settings. At Ebla in the MB I, they appeared in high quantities in connection to the Ištar temple buried within two favissae (Marchetti and Nigro 1997). They were also present in MB and LB contexts at Ugarit, Byblos, Sidon, Nahariya, Qedesh, Dan,50 Hazor, Kabri,51 Megiddo, Pella, Tell el-Hayyat, Shechem, Shilo, Tel Mevorakh, Gezer, Bat Yam, in the Jerusalem area,52 Givat Sharett, Lachish, Tel Mor, Tell el‘Ajjul, Tel Haror, and Tell el-Dab‘a (Naeh 2012a: 56–65).53 In Egypt, their contexts were mainly funerary and mortuary (Allen 2006: 22), although they were also yielded in ritual deposits in temple courtyards (Müller 2002: 278, Fig. 7). In the Aegean, miniatures were recovered from cultic contexts at peak-top sanctuaries on Crete, often in pits, and at open-air cult places like Athienou on Cyprus (Dothan and Ben-Tor 1983; MacDonald and Knappett 2007: 32; Tournavitou 2009). One special type of miniature vessel, the seven-cupped bowl, is worth mentioning. The vessel is composed of a combination of seven miniature cups and a large bowl within which the cups were plastered (cf. Naeh’s work on these vessels, which she calls a שבעתן, in Naeh 2012a, 2012b). These seven-cupped bowls were mainly recovered from Nahariya, in the hundreds. They also appeared at a few other sites: Ugarit, Byblos, Nahariya, Megiddo, Givat Sharett, Bat Yam, Lachish and Tell Qasile. These other sites had significantly fewer examples of the vessels, with multiples at Byblos and Megiddo and single isolated attestations at the rest. The function of these vessels is unclear (cf. Uziel and Avissar Lewis 2013 for a non-cultic interpretation). At Tel Haror, Katz has indicated that some of the miniatures bore signs of burning, leading her to suggest some form of diminutive offering was made with them (2009:56), or possibly that they were used as lamps or for burning incense. At Nahariya, residue analysis on the seven-cupped bowls indicated that there were variously traces of animal fats or vegetable oils in the individual cups, but never any crossover. This has led Namdar to argue that the seven-cupped bowls were one-time-use vessels, parts of special rituals specifically at the site of Nahariya, and could have involved either libations or burning of incense (Namdar, personal communication, 2016; Namdar et al. 2018). Another suggestion is that these miniatures were small-scale votive offerings to the deities, possibly mirroring the similar phenomenon of small-sized figurines that are often found in these cultic settings. From my own observations in this study, there also seems to be a correlation between miniature vessels and cultic stands, although the precise meaning of this is trend is unclear. 7.3.2.4
Cup-and-Saucers
This is a composite vessel composed of a small bowl in the center of a larger open bowl. In terms of function, Tufnell perceived these as libation vessels that contained two different liquids that when poured, would mix together (Tufnell et al. 1940: 41). Amiran suggested these vessels were essentially incense burners that burned two different aromatic incense simultaneously arguing that, contra Tufnell, burning in fact did occur in both the inner and outer vessels (Amiran 1953). Amiran further posited their cultic function (as did Dothan 1953: 152 and more recently Killebrew 2005: 132) as possible objects for libation, pouring, anointing or mixing liquids, in basic agreement with Tufnell. Most recently, Uziel and Gadot presented a function that 50
These miniatures were yielded from a ritual deposit (Ilan 1992: 247, 249, 258, Fig. 10.1–2). For Kabri’s miniature vessels from the MB, see Scheftelowitz et al. 2002: 110 and Oren 2002: 58. 52 At Naḥal Repha’im and ‘Alona (Naeh 2012a: 61). 53 This data shows a heavy concentration of miniature vessels in Canaan, predominantly along the coast. 51
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combines the possibility of lamp and incense burner – the outer bowl functioned as a lamp while the taller bowl held contents such as aromatic oils (Uziel and Gadot 2010: 48). Whatever the exact function of these vessels was, their wide distribution throughout LB and early Iron Age Canaan in generally cultic settings (ibid.: Fig. 2, Table 1), and the appearance of similar vessels in Egyptian, Cretan and Aegean contexts, indicates that these vessels had far-reaching significance in a plethora of regions. This took place in a period when the Mediterranean basin was most intensely interconnected and involved in international trade and was a result of either trade, emulation, or shared ceramic and possible religious traditions. 7.3.2.5
Scoops
These vessels are forms of bowls that have loop handles and a bent wall that is sometimes vertical, angled, or curved (Gitin 1993: 100). The objects are known as early as the EB and reappear in the LB and Iron Ages. From LB contexts, scoops have been found at Hazor, Beth Shean, Pella, Megiddo, Lachish and Tell Sera‘ in the southern Levant and at Ugarit, Minet el-Baida and Ras Ibn Hani in Syria. The function of the vessel is unclear with little agreement. At Lachish, it was suggested the vessels were for liquids, and more specifically that they were aptly suited for catching the blood of sacrificial animals (Tufnell et al. 1940: 41). There was no specific evidence for this nor were there any studies conducted to test out the hypothesis. Gitin attributed a secular administrative function to these vessels, suggesting their purpose was to scoop and redistribute grains and other food-stuffs that the elites had acquired (Gitin 1993: 100). Zuckerman demonstrated that during the LB, these vessels were only found in public spaces, either in cultic spaces or in passageways or entry points of royal buildings. Both mark locations within which special ritualized activities would take place and thus she associated the scoops with cultic use. Specifically, the proximity of the find spots to large basins and drainage channels suggests that the pouring of liquid could have taken place, either of water for ablution or purification, or of wines or other liquids for libation offerings (Zuckerman 2007c: 322–325). 7.3.2.6
Ceramic Stands
A detailed overview of the history of research of cultic stands and various suggested typologies can be found in the final excavation report of Yavneh I (Kletter 2010a: 25–33). Various scholars have formulaically categorized ceramic stands in terms of material, form, function, and decoration and iconography (see DeVries 1987; Muller 2000; Beck 2001: 168–174; de Miroschedji 2001). Form typologies have identified ceramic stands in terms of architectural models (e.g. shrine models, house models, tower models) or as jar-like or cylindrical-shaped supports (Kletter 2010a: Figs. 3.1–3.5). Functional attributes of stands have been considered in terms of offering stands or supports for other vessels, for cult images, or for placing contents directly on top, in terms of incense altars, libation vessels, funnels or flower pots, in terms of symbolic cult objects representing miniature tabernacles, and sometimes in terms of ossuaries for secondary burials (ibid.: 28–30; cf. Mazar 1980: 95–96). Still, other non-functional possibilities include stands being completely non-utilitarian and solely symbolic objects not to be used or as votive objects. This does not exclude the possibility that ceramic stands from different sites could have functionally served different purposes, and thus in specific cases the above suggestions might hold some truth. One of the vessels in southern Levantine assemblages most commonly referred to as “cultic” is the fenestrated stand. I retain the term “cultic stands” because their function is ambiguous. However, I do not believe there is evidence to prove fenestrated stands were related to incense burning. There is no evidence of burning on any of the published or unpublished examples of these stands. Mazar already noticed this at Tell Qasile, arguing the complete lack of residual burn marks or organic material indicates that referring to these stands as incense burners is “baseless” (Mazar 1980: 95–96). The same holds true for all published MB and LB examples of these stands, and the MB site saturated with the most examples of these stands, Nahariya, also supports this: no samples had residual burn marks.54 Indeed, the study from Yavneh showed the ceramic stands were neither used for burning (no blackening, soot marks or evidence of thermal shock was identified) nor as supports for other vessels (Kletter 2010a: 40–41, Kletter 2010b: 175–84). In contrast, in a study of
54
After having sifted through all the published examples of these and noting no mentions to the remains of ash or burning on these stands, I inquired with Liat Naeh regarding the Nahariya assemblage which she has worked on, and she confirmed for me that she recalls no evidence of actual burning on the stands themselves (Naeh, personal communication, January 2017).
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Mexican temples (Zapotec), it was noted that remains of incense burning were detected on the floors which were burned or stained grey with smoke, often leaving behind circular stains where copal had been burned (Marcus and Flannery 1994: 66). This suggests somewhere in the archaeological record of the southern Levant, burn remains should be detectable. If these stands were related to incense burning, archaeological evidence does not demonstrate traces of it. Further, nothing in any of the ritual texts from Emar or Ugarit (cf. Section 16.3.3) reflect activities involving incense burning, making the claim yet even further problematic. In referring to these vessels as cultic stands, I acknowledge that they generally have been yielded in cultic contexts or in association with other vessels understood as ritually-oriented. It will be clear in the following study that at a number of sites, cultic stands appear in association with large quantities of miniature vessels. These sites include Nahariya, Hazor, Tel Haror, Shiloh,55 Megiddo and Lachish (Area D). The precise implication of this trend remains vague.
7.4
Types of Contexts Considered in this Study
As this study focuses on activity types within cultic settings, temples will be the primary spaces analyzed. The architecture of these temples has already been analyzed in Part II. If the excavators have provided enough data, an analysis of the spatial distribution of objects from locus to locus, in different rooms, and between indoor and outdoor spaces will be conducted. Deposits were often found on benches, altars and raised podiums, and in favissae, niches and in certain cases, hoards composed of objects stashed together and buried in vessels. Features such as benches, altars, podiums and niches were already discussed above; they were all raised surfaces associated with the placement of offerings (Stern 1984: 29). Hoards will be discussed in Chapter 12 related to Nahariya, specifically. Favissae were one of the most frequently recurring forms of deposit and will be addressed below. 7.4.1 Favissae In the MB and LB, favissae have been identified at many sites, including Ebla and Byblos (Marchetti and Nigro 1997), Tell el-Dab‘a (Müller 2002), Tel Haror (Klenck 2002; Katz 2009), Pella (Bourke 2012), Hazor (Zuckerman 2012: 111), Lachish (Tufnell et al. 1940) and Tel Mevorakh (Stern 1984). These pits that were often found associated with temples in antiquity – also called bothroi or offering deposits – were repositories dug into the ground in order to permanently store deposits of cult vessels and objects (Kletter 2010c: 199– 204; Straßburger 2018). They were sometimes found with large amounts of animal bones and ash as well. A number of different theories exist regarding the process of their formation and the number of times they were used and there exists a range of objects that have been found in favissae. Marchetti and Nigro identified favissae at Ebla that had three different levels of deposition and were stone-lined. The contents included votive offerings in the form of pottery, miniature vessels and ritual objects (figurines, beads, jewelry and weapons) mixed with charcoal, ash and dirt. The study concluded that the favissae were remnants of cultic feasts, personal offerings, and temple furnishings (Marchetti and Nigro 1997: 31–34). Slightly different types of deposition pits appear at Tell el-Dab‘a. Müller classifies favissae in the site’s temple precinct as having a round and deep shape with the deposit concentrated toward the bottom, as containing many complete and fully restorable vessels, and as being composed of a mixture of animal bones, ash and burnt pottery fragments. The assemblages resembled household vessels that were used for the supply and consumption of food and liquids, included miniature vessels and exhibited limited evidence of incense burning and libations (Müller 2002: 270). Unlike at Ebla, the favissae at Tell el-Dab‘a were not composed of objects specifically identified as cultic but rather with objects resembling domestic vessels that were used in cultic feasts and rituals. Further, there was no evidence that the pits were used multiple times. Thus, each can be considered as single events in the long life of the temple precinct. From Zapotec temples in Mexico, subfloor offerings in possible foundational deposits – composed of a combination of sacrifices (sometimes human), prestige objects and pottery – appeared in almost every temple, understood as an important ritual of sanctification (Rappaport 1971, 1979; Marcus and Flannery 1994: 65–66).
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At Shiloh, Area F has two stands (Bunimovitz and Finkelstein 1993: Fig. 6:21: 4–6, item 5 being a bowl that inserted into 6) associated with miniature vessels in the Area F rooms, specifically in Room 1526 (see ibid.: Fig 6.13: 1,2,4), rooms which are otherwise known to have been used for storage (Finkelstein and Lederman 1993: 62).
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From an Iron II context, Kletter concluded that the contents of the Yavneh favissa were discarded votive objects that originated in a yet-to-be discovered temple nearby (Kletter 2010c: 201–202). The uniformity and few forms of cult vessels in the Yavneh favissa and the lack of the types of pottery, animal bones and other objects more typical of mundane refuse pits places the favissa in the realm of official and not popular or household religion (ibid.: 203). Yet, there is a striking uniqueness to the contents of the Yavneh favissa: they do not reflect the assemblages normally found in temple inventories. This has led Yasur-Landau to argue that the favissa at Yavneh was the result of a single event, a Philistine festival whose rituals involved the burning of some substance on bowls and of burning incense in chalices (Yasur-Landau 2011a: 92). In this light, the contents of favissae at other sites might be considered as the final destination of objects upon completing festivals or other ritual activities. Thus, multiple processes might have produced the assemblages yielded from favissae. While votive offerings to deities were likely presented and left in temple interiors on altars, benches and raised podiums, over time, these objects would eventually need to be removed from the temple in order to make space for new offerings. To preserve their sanctity, these objects could be buried in pits. On the other hand, temple vessels, objects, and furnishings, once used within the realm of the cult, gained a certain sacredness that in antiquity was considered permanent. Secular use of these vessels outside of the temple would be blasphemous and broken temple paraphernalia could not simply be discarded with non-temple objects. These too made their way into favissae (Kletter 2010c: 199–200). In some cases, it might even be possible to discern a favissa as the terminal point for objects used in a specific, one-time ritual or ceremony in itself. The burial of vessels in favissae can further be understood not only in terms of the activities performed with the deposited objects prior to their deposition, but as a symbolic and meaningful act in itself. The act of breaking and depositing vessels, whether related to feasting or ritual activity, created a direct relationship between the objects and their users, both putting the objects out of use while further creating a sense of ownership between the user/breaker of the objects and the objects post burial (Driessen et al. 2008).
Chapter 8 Hazor Area H, the Orthostat Temple The Area H Orthostat Temple, discussed in Part II (4.4.2.2), was a migdal temple. Previous studies have discussed various aspects of the structure’s prominently-displayed monumental architecture, the ceramic typology, the wealth of special finds that were discovered within the temple and its courtyard, and to a limited extent have sometimes offered tentative reconstructions of ritual and activities (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLIX–CCLXXXV, CCCXXIV–CCCXLIII; Yadin 1972: 75–95; Ben-Tor 1989: 212–275; Mazar 1992; Zuckerman 2007a: 190–194; Zuckerman 2007b; Zuckerman 2012: 105–107). The following analysis utilizes my activity-type rubric in order to better grasp the types of activities that took place throughout the temple and surroundings. Refer to Tables III–VII and Fig. 8.1. The contextual analyses presented here and in the following studies are a result of the author’s own research. The reconstruction of object distribution is based on the final reports, published plates of the ceramics and objects, plans of the temples, and locus lists for locating specific findspots.
8.1
Contextual Analysis
8.1.1 Stratum 3 The earliest temple dates back to the late MB (Fig. 4.17). As limited as the finds were from this early phase, a number of assessments can be made regarding the types of activities that took place in the temple during the late MB stratum. Of the 64 objects recovered from this earliest phase, 53 were ceramic (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLIX–CCLX).56 Thirty-four percent were bowls, low in comparison to the subsequent temples (Table III). This can be accounted for by three factors: the limited exposure of this phase, the likely disposal of the majority of the cultic vessels prior to the reconstruction of the following Stratum 2 temple, and the possibility of the reuse of temple vessels from one stratum to the next. From the limited data available (Table IV), the temple’s cella (Locus 2175) appears to have been a space for presenting votive offerings and possibly for storage as well. The miniature faience bowl and the bronze knife, both prestige objects, could have been brought to the cella to be used during rituals involving the use of miniature vessels or during sacrificial or militaristic ceremonies, respectively, or presented as offerings themselves (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCLX:29,31). The jar stand, on the other hand, might indicate that storage took place in the cella, although no actual jars were recovered from this stratum. Alternatively, the stand could have served as a support for an offering table, as depicted in Egyptian iconography. A flat and rectangular basalt stone exposed in the center of the cella could have functioned as an offering table (ibid.: Pl. CIV:3–4). It was found next to two other well-dressed, rounded basalt stones. The entrance hall to the south of the cella (Locus 2163) had indications of limited amounts of consumption as well as votive offerings. The bowls and the kernos were fragmentary; it is therefore difficult to determine whether they were actually used in this room. The remaining rooms were only exposed on a very limited scale and lacked finds. To the south of the temple on the elevated platform leading to its entrance (Locus 2148), very limited evidence of activity was discernable. Sherds of only three different vessels were recovered. A fragment of a bronze crescent-shaped pendant indicates that objects of prestige and status were moved through this space (ibid.: Pl. CCLX:30). Given the fragmentary nature of the pendant as well as the other vessels, no conclusive activity types could be determined for the locus as it is unclear if these sherds were remnants of objects that were originally used in the locus. The pendant here suggests two things: first, in consideration of a number of bronze pendants of similar fashion found in later Area H strata, it is evident that these pendants were part of an old and long-lasting tradition spanning the entire life of the temple; and second, the location of Locus 2148 is directly beneath loci from later strata that also yielded pendants, indicating that they were carried (or worn) in the space directly in front of the temple, if not offered or used there in some form of temple ritual that took place facing the temple’s entrance. The remaining finds came from eight loci outside of the temple and beyond the entry platform. Possible activity types range from consumption to food preparation and storage, as well as votive offerings or activities utilizing objects demonstrating prestige and status. Three patches of a small pebble-paved surface to the south 56
I have chosen to omit two objects from the report plates due to their fragmentary state therefore obscuring whether they were parts of vessels already accounted for, or from other vessels.
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of the temple had limited evidence of activities. Locus 2151 had two complete jar stands and two miniature vessels, the rest of the vessels being sherds. Thus, the evidence for food preparation is very limited, while the possibility of storage (jar stands) and votive offerings is slightly stronger. The two miniature bowls (ibid.: Pl. CCLX:19,20) were the only two ceramic miniatures from this stratum (in addition to the miniature faience bowl from the cella mentioned above). Considering the later contexts in which many more miniature vessels were found, these examples of miniatures provide evidence that rituals involving miniature vessels were already established in Stratum 3. Locus 2165, further to the south, had very limited evidence of food preparation and storage, as well as the possibility of activities using objects of prestige and status evident in the game board. Further south, in Locus 2166, there was limited evidence of consumption. The rest of the finds from Stratum 3 came from soundings outside the temple, exposing fragments of vessels (a few complete, such as in Locus 2117) but shedding little light on the activities in or around the temple. Objects yielded include a schematic figurine, a bowl sherd with an applied snake decoration, and a sherd of a zoomorphic vessel (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCLX:24–27). 8.1.2 Stratum 2 Stratum 2 had many more loci of activity and a larger overall assemblage (Table III, V; Fig. 4.18; Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLXI–CCLXX). A temenos wall was constructed in this stratum separating the temple and its courtyard complex from the open area further south. The temple interior also underwent slight alterations, mainly in the partial blocking of the cella’s niche by Wall 2565 and the placing of the raised podium at the western approach to the niche. Movement was therefore more restricted as was the direct line of sight of the niche. Further, two 1.5 m wide ledges or benches along the sides of the southern wall of the cella provided additional space for placing vessels or other votive offerings (cf. Section 4.4.2.2). This accords well with the increased activity witnessed in the cella in this stratum, as demonstrated below. About one third of the total Stratum 2 objects were recovered in the cella (Locus 2133). The high concentration of vessels and small finds supports the identification of the room as the central focal point of cultic activity in the temple (Table V). The objects indicate extensive consumption, food preparation, storage, activities involving prestige or status and objects of personal adornment in addition to votive offerings. The assemblage was largely composed of bowls (68%), four of which were Cypriot imports. An additional basalt bowl was found intentionally placed upside down on the low bench abutting the rectangular installation located to the west of the niche (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CLX:4). Three of the stratum’s seven chalices also came from the cella (although none were recovered complete). Evidence for storage is somewhat limited as only storage jar rims were yielded. Evidence for food preparation might be indicated by the two fragments of cooking pots and four pestles. The upturned basalt bowl might also reflect food preparation, although its location atop the raised platform suggests it was either a votive offering or a vessel upon which offerings were presented immediately in front of the cella’s niche. Two miniature bowls were recovered from the cella as well as two small rattles, the latter being either votive offerings or objects used to create noise during ritual activities (ibid.: Pl. CCLXIX:16,20,24,25). Among the remaining objects were two figurines and a miniature basalt mortar. The two figurines attest to the cella being a focal point of cultic activity. The sandstone figurine does not reveal much about the nature of the cult or the identity or appearance of the deity due to its fragmentary state, although it does reveal that crudely fashioned figurines of stone were presented in the cella (ibid.: Pl. CCLXX:4). The schematic female figurine cut from sheet-silver indicates that votive offerings took the form of metal figurines as well (ibid.: Pl. CCCXXXIX:9,10); in this latter case, the gender could either be interpreted as representing the gender of the donor or that of the deity (Negbi 1989: 354). The miniature basalt mortar, if correctly interpreted, might represent a votive offering mimicking activities in the realm of food preparation (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCLXX:9). Taking this one step further, might the gender of the figurine (female) and gendered role of women in food preparation and use of mortars be related to the form of offerings recovered from the cella? The threshold leading into the cella (Locus 2143) was found with a bronze sword (ibid.: Pl. CCLXX:25). This type of object generally signifies the prestige of the owner. Being that the find spot was a passageway, it is questionable whether this was the original context of the weapon. However, it is possible that the threshold was perceived as a transitional and thus liminal space leading into the holiest chamber and thus objects of prestige feasibly could have been offered there. The entrance hall (Locus 2139) demonstrated evidence of consumption and food preparation with limited evidence of objects of prestige or status and votive offerings.
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The close proximity between the bronze dagger in this locus (ibid.: Pl. CCLXX:26) and the bronze sword in the threshold to the north suggests these objects might be related offerings, either reflecting the status of the donors or reflecting a militant attribute of the deity. The two rooms to the east and west of the main hall exhibited signs of consumption (Locus 2183) with limited evidence for food preparation, votive offerings and possible textile production (Locus 2130). The lack of space in these rooms suggests they most likely served as storage spaces for the vessels rather than the location of their use. The temple courtyard also exhibited a large amount of activity (see “within temple temenos” in Table V). The many platforms and benches surrounding the space within the courtyard complex indicate that activities involving setting down vessels, objects, or food offerings were an intrinsic aspect of the courtyard activities. Two open loci in the courtyard demonstrated many different types of activities. Locus 2138 was nearest to the temple entrance and exhibited strong evidence for consumption with limited evidence of food preparation and storage. Seventy-one percent of the ceramic assemblage was bowls and included one Cypriot import and a quatrefoil bowl that likely served purposes other than mundane consumption. Additionally, objects of prestige, personal adornment, and votive offerings were found in this locus, including three bronze crescentshaped pendants and a bronze dagger-shaped female figurine cut from sheet metal. Further to the south and closer to the courtyard entrance, Locus 2149 also exhibited evidence of consumption with limited evidence of food preparation, storage, and votive offerings. Here, three installations restricted direct movement to the temple entrance: a large rectangular podium (2534), a smaller rectangular podium (2554), and a circular cobble-stoned installation in between the two. These installations were covered with an abundance of pottery, animal bones and ash (Ben-Tor 1989: 229) suggesting some form of sacrificial offering or roasting in addition to consumption was performed in the courtyard. Almost half of the vessels were bowls, one of which depicted a gazelle and a bird (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCLXVII:13). A miniature bowl was also found in this locus. On the south of the temple courtyard was a heap of objects that were likely collected and deposited after use or were being stored for later use (Yadin 1972: 81–82; Ben-Tor 1989: 229). The heap was composed of objects that were used for consumption, food preparation, storage, personal adornment, signifying prestige or status, votive offerings and performing unique rituals. The miniature vessels and cultic stands indicate activities in the realm of cult, and the three liver models, two of which bear inscriptions, indicate scribal knowledge of Old Babylonian extispicy practices if not the actual performance of them (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXV:1–3). A bronze crescent-shaped pendant was found here as well (ibid.: Pl. CCLXX:18). A number of rooms surrounded the courtyard as well. Room 2146 abutting the west of the temple edifice demonstrated limited evidence of consumption, storage, food preparation and votive offerings. Immediately to the south of Room 2146, a pottery kiln (2160) was found with traces of ash and burning, as well as many miniature vessels and bowls (ibid.: Pl. CCLXIX). Normally these vessels would indicate consumption and votive offerings, but given the context next to a pottery kiln, it seems more logical that these were the products produced by temple potters using the kiln. It therefore appears that bowls, and in particular miniature ones, were produced on site. Thus, although some objects were brought from outside the temple, this demonstrates a tightening of control over cultic vessels used in the temple. On the eastern side of the temple courtyard, a drainage channel lined with repurposed cultic stands was found (Locus 2150). The need for drainage could be associated with activities that required regular cleaning and maintenance of the temple interior, either for post-sacrificial cleansing procedures, for purging the temple space from liquid accumulation from libation offerings, or from water leakage due to wet winters. Due to the limitations that the later architecture placed upon the full exposure of Stratum 2, it is unclear to what the drainage connects in the north or to where exactly it exits in the south. Part of a large circular installation, sitting beneath a later Stratum 1B wall, was exposed and appears to be the installation to which this channel would have connected. If so, activities involving the pouring of liquids might have required the channel to remove the liquids from the temple courtyard (Yadin 1972: 81; Ben-Tor 1989: 230). The entrance to the courtyard was composed of the propylaeum (Locus 2169), Room 2172, and Wall 2552 which separated the temple courtyard complex from the open space surrounding the temple. The single remaining entrance, not quite aligned with the temple entrance, led into the propylaeum which was lined with benches.57 Although the only evidence for activity in the room was limited to possible storage (three jar rims were found), the benches and the room’s location controlling access to a space of more sanctity suggest that 57
Note that there were possibly as many as three entrances originally leading from Locus 2170 into the temple courtyard (Ben-Tor 1989: 229).
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the propylaeum was also used for presenting offerings or performing other entry rituals. The two square installations abutting the jambs of the entrance further indicate either additional surfaces for offering or bases for decorative free-standing pillars, either of which would indicate a heightened sense of sanctity upon entering the propylaeum. The lack of finds might be a result of frequent cleaning, clearing, and moving of offerings presented there, since this liminal space was highly controlled and carefully maintained due to the fact that it was the location at which all ritual participants moved into and out of the temple’s sacred precinct and through which all objects were brought into the temple. Room 2172, the second chamber leading through the temenos into the temple courtyard, had indications of possible food preparation. The two pestles found in isolation might have been part of a larger set of utensils used in such activities; however, considering the bench lining the west wall of the room as well as the square installation that could have served as an offering surface, it is also possible these were votive offerings (Ben-Tor 1989: 228–229).58 Beyond the temple’s sacred precinct, further evidence of activities related to the temple was found in a number of loci. Of significance, the open space just south of the courtyard gate (Locus 2170) contained objects involved in textile production as well as a decorative bronze plaque (Fig. 8.4) depicting an elite nobleman or ruler (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXIX:1,2). The figure on the plaque is a beardless and bald male wearing a garment with a thick border that is wrapped multiple times around the body. His right hand is raised in a gesture of benediction. It is possible this plaque originated in Stratum 3 (cf. Beck 1983). Further south, a Mycenaean cup and a bronze arrowhead (in Locus 2174 and Locus 2120, respectively) representing displays of prestige objects were found. To the west of the courtyard, Loci 2162 and 2155 – both which might have been inside the temenos wall of the temple courtyard – exhibited evidence of consumption and votive offering (a miniature vessel was found in Locus 2155) as well as possible food preparation.59 Other loci were mainly open areas beyond the courtyard and soundings. The objects resemble those found within the courtyard. 8.1.3 Stratum 1B Two major alterations were conducted in this phase: an entrance hall was constructed south of the previous temple entrance (2128) and the temple courtyard was redesigned (Fig. 4.19; cf. Section 4.4.2.2). The orthostats lining the walls of the temple also appear for the first time in this stratum, although these might have been reused from previous strata. Stratum 1B also witnessed the deposition of temple vessels and objects in favissae inside the temple as well as beyond the temple temenos. This is the first occurrence of such activities in Area H, although the Stratum 2 courtyard sherd pile likely functioned similarly (Yadin 1972: 81–82) and there was already a favissa at Hazor in the Area A Southern Temple in Stratum XV (LB I, equal to Stratum 2 in the lower tell/Area H; Zuckerman 2012: 111; Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 66, 140, 141). In contrast to Strata 3 and 2, the majority of the objects found in the cella in both Strata 1B and 1A were small finds, not pottery (Tables III, VI; Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLXXI–CCLXXVIII). The activities likely performed in the cella included consumption and possible food preparation, with more extensive evidence for votive offerings of objects of personal adornment, of objects demonstrating the owners’ status and prestige, and possibly of liquids (see “temple interior” in Table VI). Over half of the cella’s vessels were bowls and part of a decorated goblet was recovered too. The remains of a krater and three juglets might have been used for serving liquids. Objects concentrated in the cella included a clay figurine head (likely presented as a votive offering), ten beads and one toggle pin (objects of personal adornment), a sherd of a Mycenaean bowl, a stone pommel and a cylinder seal (objects of status and prestige), and a silver-plated arm of a bronze figurine (either a votive offering or a cult figurine) (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXL:12–13). A basalt basin recovered from the room further attests to some form of activity involving the pouring of liquids, possibly for libation (ibid.: Pl. CCLXXVIII:8). The juglets could have been utilized in these specific activities. There is also evidence of the ritual deposition of cult objects in a favissa within the cella. Pit 2157 contained evidence of a possible ceremony in which a headless basalt statue of a seated male holding a bowl was ritually buried and consummated by the use and then deposition of two elaborately-decorated goblets (Fig. 8.5; Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXX:1–6). The location of the pit was directly above the Stratum 3 flat slab discussed above, and immediately below the heaviest concentration of cultic furnishings from Stratum 1A 58
There was likely a bench along the east wall as well (Ben-Tor 1989: 229). Locus 2155 is possibly part of an inner chamber leading into the courtyard from a western courtyard entrance through Wall 2552, similar in function to Room 2172 to its east. 59
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above. Although the niche was likely the most holy spot in the cella, only one bronze needle was recovered. This might be the remnants of a larger more intricate offering, or alternatively it might represent some form of textile production that occurred elsewhere in the temple. The activities from the cella therefore were a combination of mundane and ritualized activities: consumption and food preparation, on the one hand, and votive offerings, rites involving liquids, and ritual burial of cult objects, on the other. Considering no indication of hearths or ovens were yielded in the cella, the vessels related to food preparation were probably not used in the temple itself; they were more likely used elsewhere and then commuted to the temple for consumption. The central hall facing the cella and the rooms to the west and east were mainly empty. There was limited evidence of consumption and possible food preparation as well as a single bead representing an object for personal adornment. The lack of finds should be attributed to these rooms functioning as spaces through which people were moving, and in the case of Loci 2112 and 2108 to the west, a staircase likely led up to the roof or a second story of the temple. In Locus 2108, a small cluster of vessels was found on the floor beneath the purported staircase (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CXVI:4), possibly a space for the storage of temple utensils. A chalice was recovered from the newly constructed entrance porch. Dug into the southern wall on the west side of the porch was a favissa, Pit 2140. The favissa was 1.8 m deep with a diameter of 3 m and was filled solely with cultic objects and objects for personal adornment and prestige. The basalt bull served as the base for the basalt figure found nearby in the courtyard (ibid.: Pls. CCCXXIV:2–6, CCCXXV:2). The large lion orthostat (1.9 m long and 0.9 m tall) was wonderfully executed and appears to have originally stood at the eastern jamb at the entrance of the temple. An additional lion orthostat would have likely stood opposite it against the western jamb (Fig. 16.2a; ibid.: Pl. CCCXXVIII:1–3). In fact, a nearly identical lion orthostat found in the ceremonial precinct of Area A has more recently come to light, possibly originally from Area H (Fig. 16.2b; Ben-Tor 2017b: 571–573). Additionally, a small worked stone, possibly a diminutive maṣṣebah, was buried in the pit. The base-ring bowl and faience bowl signify the prestige of the donor or user of those vessels, and the bronze crescent-shaped pendant, similar to others found in this and other strata, demonstrates the recurring appearance and use of the crescent symbol on jewelry within the temple’s cult. The activities of the temple courtyard (2119) included ritual activities involving an installation of a maṣṣebah and flat-lying offering table (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CXI:2) and the use of a kernos, votive offerings including a metal figurine (arm fragment, ibid.: Pl. CCCXL:11), a ceramic zoomorphic figurine (two legs were found) and the torso of a basalt statue (the base was the bull found in Pit 2140, Fig. 8.6; ibid.: Pls. CCCXXIV:1, CCCXXV:1), and the deposition of objects of personal adornment (two bronze crescentshaped pendants). There were limited signs of food preparation. The remains of a silo additionally indicate storage. The entrance to the temenos was from the east in this stratum, and the open court (Locus 2158) connects to a number of small rooms, one of which was lined with benches. Additionally, part of a silo was found. Although no finds were recovered from this area, it is likely that it was utilized for storage; the benches could be indicative of a number of different activity types. However, without further information it is impossible to define those specific activities. On the western side of the temple courtyard, Locus 2126 appears to be another entrance that wrapped around the southwest corner of the temple. Objects used during cultic activities were found here (a maṣṣebah, a libation table, two cultic stands) and other objects signify a limited amount of prestige offerings (a bronze crescent-shaped pendant and an imported Cypriot bowl). Directly south of the temenos, an open area (2135) exhibited signs of consumption, food preparation, votive offerings and objects of prestige (see “beyond the temenos” in Table VI). The ritual deposition of cult vessels in a favissa also took place (Pit 2156/2182). The pit was irregularly shaped, measuring a maximum 7.5 m (north–south) and at least 10 m (east–west) (Ben-Tor 1989: 247). This was the largest concentration of objects in Stratum 1B. The assemblage exhibited extensive amounts of consumption, limited food preparation, possible storage, and extensive evidence of votive offerings, ritual activities, and the deposition of prestige or status objects (see Table VI). This locus had the largest amount of goblets, chalices, zoomorphic vessels and cultic stands among all Area H strata. It also had the largest concentration of bowls in Stratum 1B, including a number of decorated bowls and a Cypriot import. The pit also contained three miniature bowls, a cup-and-saucer, and two basalt offering tables further indicating cultic activities were performed with the assemblage (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLXXV:20, CCLXXVI:17,19,20, CCLXXVIII:6–7). These vessels were likely used in the temple and then deposited outside the temenos, either after they were used, after they were broken, or as part of a ceremony itself which ended in the burial of cult vessels. To the east
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of the favissa, evidence of consumption and votive offerings was found. In particular, two miniature bowls and two miniature votive pendants were recovered, as well as a bronze snake figurine (ibid.: Pl. CCLXXVIII:20). The area along the temple’s eastern wall also had a number of loci of activity. This included two silos (Loci 2127 and 2102) for storage, cooking pots (including one miniature pot) indicating food preparation and possible votive offerings, two large kraters that were sunk into the floor suggesting their permanent presence for storage, mixing or to function as a receiving basin (Locus 2100), and two cultic stands and the body of a ceramic figurine indicating ritual activities (Ben-Tor 1989: 248). An accumulation of potsherds mixed with bone and ash was located in this area just a few meters east of the northeast corner of the temple (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CXVII:1,2), likely the remnants of the deposition of cult vessels post-use. 8.1.4 Stratum 1A The Stratum 1A cella provides the clearest evidence that the cella was the most important focal point of the temple’s activities (Fig. 4.20; Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CXXI–CXXIV; Ben-Tor 1989: 259). The vessels, objects and furnishings indicate extensive consumption, extensive storage, extensive ritual activity and votive offerings, extensive display of prestige and status including objects used for personal adornment, and some evidence of food preparation (Tables III, VII; Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLXXIX–CCLXXXV). Of the ceramic assemblage, 56% were bowls (all local). Two chalices (both decorated) and four goblets (three of which were decorated) were also part of the cella assemblage. Thus, nearly 69% of the cella inventory was composed of vessels for consumption. A number of these were found on benches lining the walls of the cella. These bowls were either used for consumption or for presenting offerings. Three large kraters and a very large basalt krater indicate ample amounts of storage space in the cella available for storing dry foodstuffs or liquids or for receiving libations or various offerings (ibid.: Pls. CCLXXX:10–12, CCLXXXIV:1). Two silos were detected in the southeastern and southwestern corners of the cella, providing more storage capacity. Cultic objects recovered from the room include three bronze human figurines (one bronze dagger-shaped figurine cut from sheet metal, one bronze solid-cast peg-shaped figurine wearing a high hat with two outstretched arms, and an arm of a bronze solid-cast figurine), a bronze bull figurine, a bronze snake figurine, a basalt statue of a seated male, and a ceramic shrine model (ibid.: Pls. CCLXXXII:1, CCCXXVI–CCCXXVII, CCCXXXIX:5,7, CCCXL:5–8,9–10, CCCXLI:1–4). The head of the basalt statue had been broken off and was found nearby. The largest concentration of cultic furnishings was also recovered from the cella: a basalt basin, two basalt libation tables, a basalt offering table and a basalt altar decorated with a four-pointed star (ibid.: Pls. CCLXXXIV:4–8, CCCXXXI:1–3, CCCXXXII:1–3,6). These furnishings were all different sizes and forms. They functioned as receptacles for receiving or supporting different forms of offerings, liquids and solids included, and one might have been related to incense burning. Two scarabs, 18 cylinder seals, two basalt pommels, a basalt mace head, and a bronze scepter and spear head signify objects associated with status and prestige were offered at the temple (ibid.: Pls. CCLXXXIII:2–3, CCCXIX–CCCXXII). Yadin recounted that the cylinder seals were grouped together amid a mass of beads and shells (Yadin 1972: 94), and Beck has suggested these were all kept together in a container that has since perished (Beck 1989a). Two of the cylinder seals were executed in Syrian style while the rest were Mitannian-style seals (cf. Section 8.4.5). Of the 163 small finds, 63 were beads; these might have been presented at the temple each as a separate individual votive offering, yet it is possible that some or all were part of a necklace that was worn or offered at the temple (cf. Tufnell 1940: Pl. XIV). The niche (2116) was found with only a few objects, all of which were objects of prestige or for personal adornment, and all of which were related to finds in the rest of the cella. The bronze toggle pin was exceptionally large (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXLIII:24). Given its particularly exaggerated size, it possibly adorned a cult statue. The three bone plaques were likely part of a much more extensive and elaborate set of inlays that would have decorated temple furniture, wooden boxes, gaming boards or wall panels. One in particular was incised with a throne or offering table, possibly part of a much larger scene (ibid.: Pl. CCLXXXIII:39). The finds from the threshold connecting the cella to the central hall south of the cella did not display any clear activities, although the Mycenaean chalice (ibid.: Pl. CCLXXXII:13) was a status symbol and the bead
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found there accords with the many found in the cella. Although out of context, a small basalt maṣṣebah was also yielded; where it was used is unclear. The central hall to the south of the threshold had few remains with limited evidence for consumption, objects associated with personal adornment, prestige objects and votive offerings (Table VII). Two decorated bowl sherds strongly resemble those from Stratum 1B’s cella, both in the decoration and the carination. This could suggest that certain vessels were carried over from earlier strata, or that certain vessel types or designs were favored by the cult and therefore were remanufactured in later strata. The Mycenaean bull figurine that was recovered from the hall was significant not only because it was an import but also because it was a foreign cult object that was brought to the temple, a significant departure from the generally more controlled figurine repertoire (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCLXXXIII:14). One of the bone plaques was incised with a standing figure, possibly a female, although the entire scene is unclear. The other bone plaque is incised as well although the object is unidentifiable (ibid.: Pl. CCLXXXIII:40). Together with the bone plaques from the cella, Zuckerman has suggested these inlays were decorative representations of ritual processions and may provide evidence of actual processions during the LB (Zuckerman 2007a: 192–193). Two installations – one to the east and the other to the west of the room’s central axis – likely provided stations for presenting offerings. Thus, although limited in finds, the room likely functioned as a space for making offerings while approaching the cella. It is also possible that the two side rooms were used for storage. Although the entrance porch (Locus 2118) was mostly destroyed, a large rectangular structure was found in the center of the room (2 x 1.2 m). This might have been an altar. Additionally, a large basalt libation table in the shape of an orthostat was also found (Ben-Tor 1989: 260–261). Due to the poor remains of the remainder of Area H in Stratum 1A, very little can be assessed regarding activity types (ibid.). The courtyard immediately south of the temple (Locus 2119) had evidence for food preparation and ritual activity as well as objects used for personal adornment and displaying status and prestige. All bowls were Cypriot imports. Some evidence of other cultic activities exists (a maṣṣebah with relief decoration and ivory dice were found out of context, and cultic stands were recovered from Loci 2126 and 2105). The rest of the objects signify prestige and status, in accordance with the assemblages of the temple at large.
8.2
Analysis of Behavioral Patterns
8.2.1 Temple Interior It is clear that the main focal point of cultic activity was in the temple’s most interior space, the cella. This is reflected most conspicuously in the Stratum 1A assemblage, which yielded the single largest concentration of objects, two-thirds of which were non-ceramic. The cella was well furnished with benches, possible silos, basalt tables seemingly for placing offerings and libations, a decorated altar and large receptacles of basalt and ceramic (such as the kraters) that were used for various purposes during rituals and ceremonies. The objects recovered from the cella attest to the wealth of the temple inventory and included cultic objects, votive offerings, objects of personal adornment and objects of prestige. It is clear that extensive amounts of consumption occurred in the cella, as well as possible storage and very limited amounts of food preparation. The Stratum 1B favissa with the basalt statue and two goblets indicates that activities involving the ritual deposition of cult objects and vessels took place in the cella as well. However, favissae were otherwise found outside the temple interior. Thus, on the one hand, activities in the cella to some extent mirrored mundane activities of consumption that could have taken place in any venue, public or private, although on a much larger scale. On the other hand, activities associated with prestige, votive offerings and ritual were performed in the cella indicating the highly cultic nature of the space. Although the entire cella was understood as holy, certain spaces were utilized more frequently than others. In Stratum 3, the three basalt stones were found in the center of the hall, one of which was a flat-lying offering table. The other two, which were flat on one side and worked and rounded on the other have no parallels in the MB Levant of which I am aware. Given their location and proximity to a flat lying offering table, it is possible they were receptacles or furnishings utilized during temple rituals. Superimposed directly above this location – at the cross section of squares C/D-13/14 – was the main concentration of cult vessels and furnishings in later strata, most prominently discernable in Stratum 1A. There, a number of flat-lying worked stones functioned as benches and offering tables. In the previous Stratum 1B, the favissa (Pit 2157) was dug in exactly the same location. Thus, there is clear indication that beginning in the temple’s earliest MB phase,
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the center of the cella had a heightened sense of sanctity. In contrast to the evidence of activities in the center of the cella, the niche was often empty. These are typically understood as the location where a cult statue of the deity was placed. Thus, the lack of objects in the niches might reflect the removal of a statue that once stood alone in this space or that regular cleaning and removal of votive offerings took place in the niche. It is also a possibility that these niches were empty altogether. The rest of the temple interior was composed of halls and side rooms that were denuded of most of their objects, but the finds that were yielded suggest limited amounts of consumption, food preparation, storage and the offering or movement of prestige objects and votive offerings. The side rooms were likely used more frequently than the evidence suggests. The finds indicate many of the activities performed in these spaces were ancillary to those in the cella. 8.2.2 Temple Courtyard The temple courtyard varied in its layout and in its use. Stratum 2 was the first clear phase of the temple with a discernable temenos differentiating between the temple courtyard and the area beyond the temple complex. The courtyard in this stratum witnessed many different activity types in many different spaces, including consumption, limited food preparation and storage, ceramic production, possible textile production, ritual, and votive offerings of objects demonstrating the prestige or status of the donor or of objects of personal adornment. The courtyard’s entrance in this phase functioned as a liminal zone with pedestals and benches for presenting offerings as outsiders entered the temple complex. The Stratum 2 courtyard was the largest, had at least two altars in the center, another possible libation installation connected to a drainage system, and side rooms for producing objects to be used in temple activities (including miniature votive vessels). The courtyard in this stratum also had the largest overall assemblage of all the temple’s courtyards, possibly a reflection of the courtyard’s larger size and its capacity to facility more activities for larger amounts of people. In Stratum 1B, the courtyard was significantly more restricted, smaller and had an indirect approach. The courtyard had a number of spaces in which different activities were performed: votive offerings, the presentation of prestige objects, and ritual activities that involved making offerings at maṣṣebot installations, pouring libations, and possibly incense burning. In addition, the favissa dug into the temple’s façade was filled with objects of prestige, the lion orthostat, and the basalt bull which was the base of the standing figure recovered from the courtyard. Strikingly absent from the courtyard is evidence of consumption, suggesting the possibility that the restricting of space and movement in the Stratum 1B courtyard also consisted of a concerted effort to limit the amount of consumption taking place in the courtyard. In other words, fewer communal activities consisting of large groups of people took place, and the activities that did occur appear to have been more focused on cultic rather than functional actions. The courtyard was altered once again in Stratum 1A, but the contours of the temenos are not discernable. There is some evidence that in addition to the abovementioned courtyard activities, limited amounts of food preparation took place in the courtyard too. Beyond the temenos wall, more activity took place although its direct relationship to the temple is unclear. In certain instances, such as the massive favissa from Stratum 1B, it is clear that there was a direct relationship between objects from the favissa and the activities within the temenos. The exterior wall of the temple, along the east side, was used for additional activities such as storage (silos were found against the temple’s east wall and kraters were sunk into the ground in Stratum 1B). Overall, the assemblages beyond the temple temenos are less complete but the objects strongly resemble those that were used in the temple interior. Thus, they reflect a sense of continuity and fluidity that managed to transcend the walls of the temple. 8.2.3 The Use of Specific Objects The discussion will proceed with an analysis of the following cultic paraphernalia recovered from this temple: miniature vessels, offering tables, figurines, the basalt incense altar, cylinder seals and clay liver models. 8.2.3.1
Miniature Vessels
No distinct pattern of distribution could be discerned for the miniature vessels. They were most commonly found in the area outside of the temple proper, mainly in the courtyard complex although half of the Stratum 1B examples came from the large favissa that was dug beyond the temenos wall. It is difficult to assess how or where these vessels were used. The following conclusions can be drawn from the data given: miniature vessels, mainly bowls, were featured in some sort of ritual activity in the Area H temple; miniature vessels
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were already being used in Stratum 3 (MB III) and continued to function in the cult through the LB II; miniature vessels were produced on site, at least in Stratum 2; miniature vessels from the cella, courtyard and the favissa outside the temenos wall were generally found in assemblages associated with other cultic or ritual vessels, excluding the 14 found next to the kiln; and considering the miniature faience bowl from the Stratum 3 cella, the four miniature vessels from the Stratum 2 cella, the few scattered in the temple interior, and the three from the Stratum 1B favissa, it seems likely that miniature vessels were used both inside the temple and during outdoor rituals in the courtyard. 8.2.3.2
Furnishings related to Offerings
A number of objects and furnishings have been identified as receptacles or locations for placing offerings: benches, stone altars, flat rectangular basalt stones and basalt basins and libation tables. The cella in Stratum 3 had one flat-lying basalt stone, found in the center of the room, alongside the two basalt rectangular stones that were flat on the bottom and round on the top (Fig. 8.2). In Stratum 2, there were no offering tables in the cella, per se, but benches lined the southern wall of the cella and a raised stone platform was constructed against the back wall (north) directly to the west of the niche, upon which the overturned basalt bowl was found. In the courtyard, there were two square surfaces, likely altars, a larger rectangular installation and a smaller square installation to the south. The propylaeum was lined with benches and had two additional square stone installations that either functioned as offering tables or as supports for pillars or possibly cult objects belonging to the temple. Stratum 1B yielded four basalt libation tables and a basin: the basin was found in the cella, two basalt offering tables were found in the courtyard, and two additional offering tables (one might be a tray) were found in the favissa outside the temenos wall (Fig. 8.3). The two courtyard tables were each a part of installations involving the low-lying offering surface abutting a standing stone, one in Locus 2119 south of the temple entrance, and the second in Locus 2126, the passageway to the west of the temple. Additional benches were found outside the temenos lining the walls of the adjacent rooms south of the temple (e.g. building 2171). Stratum 1A yielded the most offering tables: five from the cella, two from the rest of the temple interior, and one outside of the temple (a possible reuse of the installation in Locus 2119). The cella was furnished with one flat-lying basalt offering table, two basalt libation tables, one basalt basin, and one worked basalt “altar” (for the basalt altar, see discussion below). Hall 2115 had one flat-lying basalt offering table to the east, as well as two connected stone installations to the west of the central axis that might have served as surfaces for placing offerings. The entrance porch, Hall 2118, was apparently furnished with a libation table that has the appearance of a reworked orthostat. Another large rectangular installation made of stones likely functioned as an altar in this room as well. 8.2.3.2.1 Form, Parallels and Function The offering tables had a number of different forms. They were generally worked and had varying numbers of depressions which ranged in size, shape and depth. A few of the tables had small grooves or channels cut into the edges at the top. One exception, the table from Stratum 3, was flat with no depressions. Yadin attributed different functions for the different offering tables: the slabs with shallow depressions were offering tables and the slabs with deeper depressions were libation tables. The term “libation table” suggests that liquids were poured onto the slabs and collected in the depressions. These can be separated into three types: tables with two rectangular depressions of equal size, one deeper than the other; tables with a deep nearlysquare depression about one-quarter of the size of the slab in one of the slab’s corners; and tables with a deep depression on one side and no additional compartment on the remainder of the top surface (Yadin 1972: 92– 93). Although it is not clear what these slabs were used for, the notion of tables for offerings and libations is intriguing. A very close parallel to these Area H slabs comes from Hazor Area F, where a large monumental worked stone with two main depressions, one deeper than the other, an outlet for liquid to drain from the “altar,” and three small circular depressions or “cup-marks” was found (Yadin et al. 1960: Pl. XXXIX:1–2). Examples of worked stone slabs with grooves and depressions are known from around the Levant and Anatolia, however in those examples as well it is not certain what their function was. Other examples from the southern Levant were found at Beth Shean (Rowe 1940: Pls. XXII:18–20,24, XXIX:13,14(?); Beck 1989b),
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Gezer (Macalister 1912c: Pl. CCXXIV:1–15; Macalister 1912a: Fig. 42:7, Macalister 1912b: Fig. 449:1), Tel Mevorakh (Stern 1984: Pl. 31:10) and Tel Nami (unpublished). One of the Beth Shean examples – a rectangular “tank” made of limestone with a shallow rectangular depression in the center – was found with traces of burning inside. It is possible that organic matter, possibly incense, was burnt in this particular instance (Rowe 1940: Pl. XXIV:13). The Gezer stones that were recovered during Macalister’s excavations were mainly fragmentary and were significantly smaller than the Hazor slabs. Unfortunately, no good contexts for these stones were recorded nor can these objects be securely dated (cf. Macalister 1912b: 425). Further north more examples of tables and basins bearing similar traits as at Hazor abound, such as from Ebla, Alalakh, Carchemish, Tell Halaf and Zincirli (Beck 1989b). Some of these were found within cultic contexts (e.g. at Ebla), one was placed in front of a maṣṣebah (e.g. Temple D’s cella at Ebla), while others were found out of context altogether. A range of functions have been suggested: as basins for collecting the liquid from libation offerings facing a maṣṣebah or statues; as a combination of collecting basins for libations as well as bases for statues; and as altars for animal sacrifice or at least for the collection of blood offerings. Accordingly, the associated activities would have involved the pouring of liquids onto the slabs, the filling up of the depressions with the liquid substance, and the overflowing of the liquid offering off the slab, either through the chiseled channels or over the raised edges of the table (cf. Woolley 1921: Fig. 27, 93–94; 1955: 77, 89, 405–406, Fig. 79; Davico et al. 1965: 32, 130, Pl. 41; Ussishkin 1975: 85–103, Figs. 10–16; Matthiae 1980: 131, Fig. 30; 132, Pl. 36). 8.2.3.2.2 Distribution in Area H Temple In terms of the distribution of the slabs and other offering surfaces, the following observations can be made. The furnishings made of basalt were found mainly in the temple interior with the heaviest concentrations in the cella. The exceptions are unique cases: the two from the courtyard were part of installations that strongly resemble the maṣṣebot installations known from a number of Canaanite sites (particularly in courtyards) spanning the IBA through the LB, and the two from outside the temenos were yielded from the favissa in which many if not all of the objects likely originated in the temple interior. Similarly, benches tended to line the walls of interior spaces of the temple and its associated rooms and buildings. On the other hand, larger stone altars were found more commonly in outdoor contexts, such as the two courtyard altars from Stratum 2. Yet, these raised stone platforms could also be found in indoor contexts as well although generally smaller in size, such as the raised platform just east of Stratum 2’s niche, and the large square installation in the Stratum 1A’s entrance porch. It would appear, then, that the benches and basalt tables, on the one hand, could be used to place offerings – whether foodstuffs, objects of prestige, votive offerings, or liquids – during ceremonies and rituals in the temples interior. Whereas a small group of individuals could place only a few objects on any given offering table, larger groups would have been able to utilize the greater surface area of the benches for placing larger quantities of offerings. On the other hand, the larger courtyard altars of Stratum 2, for example, would have provided ample surface area for larger groups of individuals to congregate and place offerings during ceremonies and ritual activities. Given the large quantities of ash and bone found, it is very likely that some form of sacrificial offering took place around these outdoor altars. 8.2.3.2.3 Discussion: Anatolian Influences? Interestingly, the two Stratum 1B maṣṣebah installations were established only after the temple’s temenos became significantly more restricted and confined. It therefore appears that with the restructuring of the temple architecture, there was a parallel redefining of temple ritual. This is noticeable not only in the more limited courtyard space and bent-axis entrance, but also in the new courtyard offering installations, the multiple favissae introduced into the temple’s cultic landscape and the apparent shift away from large amounts of consumption in the later Stratum 1B and Stratum 1A courtyards and temple interior (excluding the cella in Stratum 1A). In fact, Anatolian influences became most apparent in Stratum 1B as well, with the appearance of the orthostat-lined walls of the temple as well as iconography known from Anatolia. The Bogazkoy slabs cited above stood in front of lion orthostats at the entrance of a gate. Similarly, the Area H temple likely had two lion orthostats buttressing the entrance to the temple. Functioning as a liminal point at the temple’s threshold, this space would have been perceived as a transitional zone from a less to a more sacred and cultically-imbued location. Thus, it is possible the lions served cultic and ritual purposes
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and were worthy of receiving offerings (as at Bogazkoy, Ussishkin 1975: 101). It is therefore plausible that receptacles such as the large orthostat with the deep cup-mark found in the Stratum 1A wall were originally placed at the foot of the lion orthostats and functioned as receptacles for libations or offerings. In reflecting on the evolution of the use of space for activities involving offering, it should be noted that the concentration of basalt tables in the Stratum 1A cella was unparalleled at the temple. However, the Stratum 3 example indicates that basalt offering tables were continuously used from the initial MB establishment of the temple to its demise in the LB. It is plausible that the tables found in the later strata were in fact reused offering tables that had their origins in the earlier strata of the temple. To support this possibility, the “altar” from Area F which resembles these slabs, albeit on a much larger scale, was attributed in its final use to Strata 1B and 1A, but Yadin suggested it originated in earlier strata (Yadin 1972: 100–101). 8.2.3.3
Basalt “Incense Altar”
The iconography on the basalt “incense altar” requires further elaboration (Fig. 16.9b). The basalt slab was found lying on its side in front of the Stratum 1A niche. Traces of burning on the top led Yadin to refer to this object as an incense altar. Standing upright, it measured 1.17 m high, and 0.55 x 0.44 m. The upper part of the altar has a relief depicting a disc chiseled into a square frame with a four-rayed emblem in its center. Below this emblem are two elongated rectangular-shaped depressions. The back side of the altar has the same features, although the square frame is blank. The sides of the altar each have a single elongated rectangularshaped depression. Yadin suggested these depressions formed the impression of columns – three on the front and back, and two on the sides (Yadin 1972: 92–93). The four-rayed emblem bares striking resemblance to the emblem on the chest of the basalt statue of the figure standing on the bull. Identical iconography was found on the contemporary Area A basalt ceremonial basin from Building 7050’s throne room in which an attached figure bears a pendant with the same four-pointed star iconography on its chest (Bonfil 2017: 569– 571). The closest parallel to this altar comes from Ugarit, where a serpentine stele depicts a similar four-rayed emblem enclosed by a circle at the top. The lower part of the stele, however, extends outwards forming a table for placing an offering. This feature that does not appear on the Hazor altar suggests that functionally these two objects were used differently. Nevertheless, the shared iconographic depiction cannot go unnoticed, both likely influenced by Hittite traditions. Other upright basalt altars have been noted by scholars, including one from Alalakh and one from Beth Shean (Rowe 1940: Pl. LXIXA:1; Woolley 1955: Pl. LII:a). Although the iconography on these examples differs from that on the Hazor altar, the upright depressions on the sides forming images of columns recall those from Hazor. The four-rayed emblem has been interpreted as a divine symbol, either of the storm or sun god. Strengthening the argument for the interpretation as a divine symbol is the correlation between emblem on the altar and the basalt statue; Yadin interpreted this striking correlation as evidence that the statue was a cult figurine (Yadin 1972: 95; Beck 1989b). The assertion that the emblem is specifically the divine symbol of the sun god is supported by the numerous Mesopotamian seals and monuments extending back to the Old Babylonian period which depict the symbol as the symbol of Shamash, the sun god. However, many signs indicate the possibility of a storm god as the chief deity of the temple. 8.2.3.4
Figurines
Statuary from the temple can be broadly categorized according to morphological, material and technological considerations. Morphologically, anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figurines were recovered from the temple. Material used for figurines ranged from metal (silver and bronze) to stone (basalt and sandstone) and ceramic. Technologically, the metal figurines were either solid cast or were flattened sheets hammered in repoussé. No figurines were recovered from Stratum 3, although a number of the figurines recovered from later strata might have had their origins in the MB temple. Some of the figurines were found whole while others were broken to various degrees. Three figurines and a plaque were recovered from Stratum 2. One silver dagger-shaped female figurine and one schematic sandstone figurine were found in the cella (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLXX:4, CCCXXXIX:9). One bronze dagger-shaped female figurine was recovered in the temple courtyard and beyond the temenos the bronze plaque depicting a Canaanite elite was found (ibid.: Pl. CCCXXXIX:1,3).
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Five figurines were recovered from Stratum 1B, three of metal and two of basalt. Two figurines were recovered from the cella, a silver-plated bronze arm of a solid-cast figurine and a basalt statue of a decapitated seated figure (ibid.: Pls. CCCXXX, CCCXL:12–13). The latter was recovered from the cella’s favissa and depicts a male seated on a stool, both worked from the same stone. The figure is draped in a garment with thick fringes that are visible above the feet (which are missing) and is holding a bowl in his right hand. The head is missing making it difficult to determine the figure’s identity (Beck 1989b).60 The basalt bull was recovered from the heap of stones directly above favissa 2140. The torso of a basalt statue that was likely part of the same composite figurine was found in the courtyard nearby. The figure, badly damaged, appears to be wearing a short tunic and bares an emblem across its chest. The emblem consists of a downward-facing crescent with two spirals at either end, and a disc enclosing a four-rayed symbol directly beneath (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCCXXIV, CCCXXV). Also recovered from the courtyard was the bronze arm of a solid-cast figurine (ibid.: Pl. CCCXL:11). To the south of the temple temenos, a bronze snake figurine was found (ibid.: Pl. CCCXXXIX:6). Seven figurines were found in Stratum 1A, six from the cella and a seventh from Room 2115 which led into the cella. Five of the six figurines in the cella were made of bronze, and the sixth was a basalt statue. The figurine from Room 2115 was ceramic. Three of the bronze figurines were anthropomorphic – one dagger-shaped, one solid-cast peg shaped, and one being the arm of solid-cast figurine. The other metal figurines were zoomorphic – one of a snake and the other of a bull (ibid.: Pls. CCCXXXIX:5, 7, CCCXL:5–8, 9–10, CCCXLI).61 The bull has a single hump on its back and its feet are connected to tenons suggesting it was once inserted into a base or pedestal. The basalt statue was of a male seated on a lion-legged chair (ibid.: Pls. CCCXXVI, CCCXXVII). The statue, found west of the cella’s entrance, was decapitated with the head laying nearby in association with bowls and a thick layer of ash. The figure is beardless, has short hair, holds a cup in its right hand and wears a short garment that extends just below the knees (Fig. 16.4a). A nearly identical statue was found in Area F (Yadin et al. 1960: Pl. CXCVII). This statue is unique in that it is a rare example of the lion-footed chair motif in statue form (other examples exist at Qatna and Byblos). The figurine from Room 2115 was a Mycenaean import and was of a bull (Yadin et al. 1961: PL. CCLXXXII:14). The figurines were found distributed throughout the temple interior, the courtyard, and beyond the temenos. The majority was recovered within the cella (10 of the 16). No anthropomorphic figurines were found beyond the temenos, although the Stratum 2 bronze plaque was found outside the courtyard entrance. The cella figurines were executed in all materials (silver, bronze, basalt and sandstone) excluding clay and examples of all morphological types were present (males, females and zoomorphic). The only clay figurine from the temple interior was a Mycenaean import. Thus, expensive and well-executed figurines made of basalt and solid metal as well as less impressive sheet-metal figurines and a crudely-fashioned sandstone figurine were present in the temple cella. The Mycenaean bull figurine from Room 2115 should be included in the category of prestige objects, as this object was an imported cult symbol of the Mycenaean world which was introduced into the Area H cult. Based on the small sizes of the figurines, they were likely not cult statues themselves but rather votive offerings. The gender of the anthropomorphic figurines either represented the gender of the deity to whom the figurine was presented or the gender of the donor. The zoomorphic figurines could be understood as representations of the deity, as representations of the deity’s associated animal, or as charms or prophylactic objects. It is unlikely that the deity was perceived in animal form, and thus the latter two options are more plausible. The snake likely falls into the latter category (Negbi 1989: 354) while the bull likely represented the deity’s animal attribute (ibid.: 356). The basalt statues were extremely well executed. Their find spots warrant an alternative interpretation. Two were ritually buried in favissae in Stratum 1B and a third was found in the Stratum 1A cella in a pile of ash together with a number of bowls. Thus, the find spots of all three basalt statues were products of rituals in which these statues, in their last moments, underwent a transformation putting them out of use. There is no way of identifying the two seated statues as deities, as there is no evidence of horns or head covering and they bore no divine symbols or attributes. However, considering they were the recipients of ritual activities (in contrast to the metal figurines which appear to be offerings), they could be considered deceased ancestors. 60
This statue has parallels from Syria that all date to the MB and the attire closely resembles attire noted on MB cylinder seals from Stratum VII at Alalakh (Yadin 1972: 84), suggesting it may have been a temple heirloom. 61 There is ambiguity as to the form of H/179 (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXIX:5, Negbi 1989: 348: Table I).
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It is not possible to further differentiate between a ruler, king or elite without the aid of textual evidence (Beck 1989b; see also Yadin 1972: 94). The basalt statue of a figure standing on a bull might in fact be a small model of the actual cult image that stood in the temple. The remaining part of the torso bore a divine symbol which combined elements of both lunar and solar deity emblems and possibly represents the temple’s chief deity (Beck 1989b). The emblem closely resembles that depicted on the large basalt altar from the cella discussed above. Yet, deities are not known to have been adorned with their own emblem. This specific phenomenon also was found on the Area C basalt statue of a seated male who had a divine symbol across his chest. This therefore has the appearance of a local Hazor tradition not well attested elsewhere. Suggestions of the specific deity have included El, Ba‘al, or some form of Hadad, but again, with no direct textual evidence, these are all conjectural (Lambert 1985, Cross 1973: 15; Mazar 1982: 32). 8.2.3.5
Cylinder Seals
The Syrian seals, likely dated to the 18th–17th century B.C.E., were rich in cultic iconography and depict deities as well as noblemen (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXIX:1–2). One portrays a storm god holding his attributes (including a mace) and standing next to a nude goddess and another nobleman wearing high headgear and a thick-bordered robe. Other elements in the cylinder seal include a bull, a snake, a sun disk with two intersecting lines forming a cross, and a falcon. The second borrows Old Babylonian iconographic elements, depicting a seated deity with a suppliant goddess standing behind him and a man in a thick-bordered robe and high headgear facing the two. In fact, most of these elements appeared in the archaeological record at the site, suggesting that the seal depicted cultic scenes and elements specifically pertinent to the Hazor temple cult. The other seals are of Mitannian style and date mainly to the 15th or 14th centuries B.C.E. The scenes are simpler than the Syrian types and have a range of depictions. Some display hero scenes of rulers struggling with antelopes, others depict seated or standing figures beside trees and quadrupeds and in some instances the scenes are of nature solely depicting animals (Beck 1989a).62 The fact that such an eclectic group of seals in terms of style as well as chronology was found at the temple precludes the possibility of a local workshop. The extensive variation in technique, quality and depictions suggests that multiple craftsmen from different workshops were involved in the production of the cylinder seals (ibid.). Many cylinder seals have been found at other Canaanite temples as well. This indicates that these objects were perceived as special and as status symbols which enabled their offering specifically in cultic contexts to be a regular, recurring reality. Although cylinder seals are associated in their primary use with stamping documents, the Canaanite examples were more likely heirlooms or amulets donated to and kept in temples (ibid.) and palaces. 8.2.3.6
Liver models
Two of the liver model fragments, possibly of the same model, bore inscriptions (Fig. 8.8). The texts are fragmentary but are clearly conditional formulations of divine omens. Referred to as Hazor 2 and Hazor 3, they only contain the apodoses. These read as follows: Hazor 2 (Horowitz et al. 2018: 65): “A king will subjugate a king. An enemy will ri[se] against the land. Joyful/sinful … of a god on earth. A god’s forgive[n]ess for a man. A slav[e] will rebel against his master” Hazor 3 (ibid.: 66): “Ištar will devour the land. Nergal will give out a name. The city, its gods will return there”
62
Parallels to these Mitannian-style seals are attested at Gezer, Megiddo, Beth Shean, Lachish, and further afield at Ashur, Nuzi, Alalakh, Ugarit (Beck 1989a).
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Additional figures on the models which illustrate representations of the natural features of the liver likely correspond to these written apodoses. That is to say, the condition or protasis is illustrated while the predicted outcome is explicitly recorded (Landsberger and Tadmor 1964: 202). The texts are written in Akkadian and although the models were yielded in the Stratum 2 LB I context, their original composition likely dates earlier.63 Clay liver models were also found in Mesopotamia, at Mari and Larsa in the MB, as well as later at Hittite Boghazköi and at Ugarit (Pardee 2002). More locally, an additional inscribed model of the same type and likely dated to the same time period was found in Area A at Hazor (Horowitz et al. 2010). Two uninscribed liver models were found at Megiddo in Stratum VII (in Area BB) as was an uninscribed lung model from Alalakh (Loud 1948: Pl. 255: 1–2; Woolley 1955: Pl. 49). These models were essential for the practice of extispicy, in which trained diviners (bārû in Akkadian) studied the anomalous features of sacrificial animals’ organs in order to foretell divine portents. The presence of these models at Hazor has a number of potential implications. These clay models could have served temple personnel as handbooks for how to correctly interpret anomalies from the liver of sacrificed animals.64 In this case, two possible reconstructions arise. First, it is possible that initially a foreign practice was introduced into the Hazor cult and then continued to be practiced and perpetuated by local Canaanite priests trained in extispicy. If that were the case, then not only were temple personnel essential but one can imagine a more sophisticated scribal tradition which trained professional scribes in making the models and writing. Strengthening this notion is the fact that the models come from local clay. A second possibility would be that the foreign practice and objects were introduced into the local cult but were controlled and performed by foreign experts. This could have been the case, but the fact that the two Hazor examples were manufactured on local clay problematizes the possibility of a foreign import. Alternatively, since only a small number of clay liver models were recovered at the site, it is also possible that extispicy was not practiced at all at Hazor and that these models were brought to (or apparently made at) the site and offered as votive offerings.
8.3
The Use of Space in the Orthostat Temple: General Trends and Diachronic Changes in how Cult was Practiced in Area H at Hazor
8.3.1 The Temple’s Emphasis on Consumption and Ritual The overall assemblages from the four strata exhibit signs of consumption, food preparation, some storage, limited evidence of production, displays of prestige and personal adornment, and cultic activities (Table III, Fig. 8.1). It is clear that through all phases, consumption was the most favored of activities. Excluding Stratum 3, which only had limited exposure, there were only limited amounts of food preparation and storage; the Stratum 3 data indicates a slightly different trend but this might be due to the stratum’s limited sample size. Focusing specifically on the assemblages from the temple interior, these trends are more apparent, in which the activity types most strongly accord with consumption, forms of cultic activity indicative votive offerings and ritual, objects of personal adornment and displays of prestige. In contrast, the trends from the various strata of the temple’s courtyard indicate more variegated activity types, often in specific concentrated areas. These include consumption, more evidence of food preparation and storage than in the temple interior, and objects used for personal adornment, prestige objects, and those indicative of ritual and votive offerings. The assemblages from certain loci do not always reflect that the expected activity type – according to this study’s rubric – took place in those specific loci. For example, the kiln (Locus 2160) in the courtyard of Stratum 2 was found with a large concentration of miniature bowls, making up 74% of the room’s entire assemblage. Considering the close proximity to the kiln, it seems most probable that ceramic production of miniatures took place in that room, and that the rituals which were conducted using those vessels took place elsewhere. It also appears that objects were ritually deposited or disposed of in the courtyard (for example, Locus 2178 in Stratum 2 and L2140 in Stratum 1B). Thus, the assemblage from the sherd pile, Locus 2178, which yielded miniature vessels, a cultic stand, inscribed liver models, storage jars and cooking pots, for 63
Landsberger and Tadmor (1964) suggest the writing of these omens were executed after the fall of Mari, but earlier than the 15th century Taanach letters. Thus, a late MB date was originally suggested. This opinion has been upheld in the most recent studies on the models (Horowitz et al. 2010; Horowitz et al. 2018). 64 This practice was not limited to livers, but extends to lungs and intestines as well and further included acts of divination related to the flights of birds, the behavior of other animals including insects, patterns of smoke in the air or oil in water, strange births, and dreams (Huehnergard 2011: 224).
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example, should not be interpreted as all those activities having taken place specifically in Locus 2178. The activity that is indicated is the objects’ deposition; their use was elsewhere in the temple complex, either in the courtyard or within the temple structure. Regarding the distribution and quantities of specific vessel types, bowls consistently represented about half of the overall assemblages, with the largest concentrations coming from the temple interior, and more specifically, from the cella itself (see temple interiors in Tables V–VII). Favissa 2156 in Stratum 1B had a large concentration of bowls as well; the fact that its contents closely accord with those found in the temple interior suggest that the favissa’s objects likely originated in the cella and were ritually deposited beyond the temenos during a ceremony outside the temple proper. Most of the bowls were locally manufactured, with imports accounting for 8% of the bowls in Stratum 2, 8% of the bowls in Stratum 1B, and 10% of the bowls in Stratum 1A. No imports were found in Stratum 3, likely a reflection of the general lack of imports in the MB III in the southern Levant at large. In Stratum 2, four Cypriot imports were found in the cella. All other imports from later strata were found outside the temple proper, with exception to a Mycenaean chalice and a Mycenaean figurine found inside the temple in Stratum 1A. Goblets and chalices were mainly found in the temple interior. However, the largest concentration of goblets and chalices came from the Stratum 1B favissa (Locus 2156) in which 11 goblets and 4 chalices were found. There was a general increase in concentration of juglets as well and in Stratum 1A, juglets account for over 10% of the overall assemblage. The heaviest concentration of juglets was in the cella of Strata 1B and 1A, but juglets were also found distributed throughout the temple exterior and in favissa 2156. About half of the juglets from Stratum 1B were imported Cypriot base ring and white-shaved juglets. Kraters were found in a number of contexts and excluding Stratum 3, they consistently composed about 5% of the overall assemblages. In Stratum 1A, ceramic kraters along with a larger basalt krater were permanently installed in the cella, accompanied by many other vessels and cultic objects and furnishings. Further, two very large kraters were found set into the ground just outside of the Stratum 1B temple walls in Locus 2100 to the east. A large concentration of cooking pots was yielded in Stratum 2, accounting for 10% of that stratum’s assemblage. These were found both in interior and exterior contexts. In Stratum 1B, a significant decrease in cooking pots occurs and continues to decrease into the final Stratum 1A. One of the Stratum 1B cooking pots is particularly small and could possibly be considered a votive offering rather than used for functional purposes. Baking trays also appeared in multiple strata, although in small numbers and never in the temple’s interior. The number and concentration of storage jars steadily decreased throughout the strata. Storage jars were found in a number of different contexts, sometimes inside the temple and sometimes beyond the temple proper. In all cases, it was clear these were not significant vessel types in the temple assemblages. It also appears that cultic stands played a consistent role in the temple activities and that miniature vessels were a part of the temple repertoire. Mainly bowls, these miniatures were found in and around the temple and in Stratum 2, they composed 12% of the overall assemblage. The largest concentration was found next to the kiln in Room 2160, likely the location of their production. Miniature bowls were recovered in multiple strata in the cella, in other temple halls and side rooms, in the temple courtyard, in favissa 2156, and beyond the temenos wall. Two other vessel types were recovered in Area H – the cup-and-saucer and the kernos. One cup-and-saucer was found in the eastern part of Stratum 1B’s favissa 2156. Two kernoi were recovered as well, one from the entrance hall of the Stratum 3 temple and the other outside to the south of the temple’s entrance in Stratum 1B. Besides these, four zoomorphic vessels were recovered – two in Stratum 3 from the temple exterior, and two from favissa 2156 in Stratum 1B. Overall, there was an increase in the number of cultic and non-ceramic objects and other small finds from one stratum to the next, culminating with the highest concentration in Stratum 1A’s destruction layer. These objects were found most heavily concentrated in the successive cellas, but were not limited to those locations, as many others were found throughout the temple interior, the temple courtyard and beyond the temple temenos in the Stratum 1B favissa 2156. 8.3.2 New Light Shed on Previous Interpretations The long life of the Area H Hazor temple had one of the richest collections of vessels, objects and furnishings. Previous studies have emphasized a number of aspects of the cult at the Orthostat Temple. Based on the temple’s iconography, it has been argued that the storm god Hadad/Ba‘al was worshipped in the Area H
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temples (Yadin 1972: 95; Ben-Tor 1989; Zuckerman 2012: 107). Within the temple, the cella or holy of holies was interpreted as the focal point of cultic activity, while the courtyard was interpreted as ancillary (Zuckerman 2012: 105–107). The major temple activities identified were sacrifice, consumption of solid foods, offerings, display and intentional destruction of prestige objects and divination (ibid.). Zuckerman further suggested there was evidence for processions (Zuckerman 2007a: 192–193). While the cella was the location for offerings to the deity, Yadin and others suggested the major function of the courtyard was for sacrificial offerings and roasting (Ben-Tor 1989: 229). This assessment was based on the altars, benches and the abundance of pottery sherds, animal bones and ash. Yadin further suggested the drainage channel and semicircular installation in Stratum 2’s courtyard were related to the drainage of blood and water of sacrifices (Yadin 1972: 81). Further, the courtyard and associated chambers and entrances were identified as spaces for placing offerings, for burning incense, for on-site pottery production, and for ritualistically burying cultic vessels (ibid.: 81–82). Ottosson also suggested the courtyard rites were intended to include larger groups of participants, while the temple’s interior was intended solely for priests (Ottosson 1980: 29). This study accords with many of these previous findings. However, in a more systematic and scientific manner it also has enabled a more precise identification of what types of activities were conducted and where. The most frequent activities identifiable in the temple interior were large-scale consumption as well as votive offerings. The cella was specifically a focal point of consumption, storage, ritual, and votive offering. The cultic activities included the presentation of offerings and libations on benches and basalt tables, the possible burning of incense, the offering of objects of personal adornment and objects of status and prestige, and the use or offering of cultic objects such as figurines, shrine model, cultic stands and miniature vessels. Amongst these rituals performed in the cella was the ritual burial of objects in a favissa, possibly a ceremony in which the headless basalt statue of a seated male (a deceased ancestor?) was buried and sanctified by the use and then deposition of the two elaborately-decorated goblets. Although little material remained in the rest of the temple interior, there is evidence of limited consumption as well as possible food preparation and votive offerings. The temple courtyard was not only used for the purposes previously identified (sacrifice, etc.) but it was also a focal point for consumption and limited amounts of food preparation, storage, and votive offerings in the form of prestige goods, objects of personal adornment, and cultic objects. Among these objects were the bronze crescent-shaped pendants, all of which were found outside of the temple in the courtyard area facing the temple. The temple courtyard also housed a number of side-rooms in which a number of activities were performed with specific evidence of the production of miniature vessels. Given the open space, altars, and large amounts of ash and bone within the temple temenos, it does seem likely that sacrifice was also performed there. The drainage of liquids was also evident in the courtyard – either of liquid libations or of the regular cleaning and maintenance of the courtyard after its daily activities. Piles of broken vessels and cultic objects attest to the disposal of temple paraphernalia. The clay liver models found in those piles indicate extispicy was performed and hint at the possibility of trained cultic personnel and diviners at Hazor, with two specified deities – Ištar and Nergal – recognized as deities either worshipped in the Area H temple, worshipped at Hazor at large, or minimally deities with whom local Canaanites might well have been aware. The entrance complex into the courtyard in Stratum 2, although denuded of its finds, was another location for presenting votive offerings since it was a liminal point leading into the temple temenos. Small square installations, likely altars, and bench-lined walls support this suggestion. Beyond the temenos, activities included the large-scale burial of vessels in favissae and very limited amounts of consumption, food preparation, storage, the use of objects of prestige and status and the presentation of votive offerings. The iconography of the temple paraphernalia further stresses the special cultic nature of the activities. The small metal figurines were likely votive offerings. Some were more precious than others. The gender of the anthropomorphic figurines either reflected that of the deity or that of the donor. The zoomorphic figurines (snake, bull) functioned differently – the snake was probably a prophylactic object while the bull likely represented the deity’s animal attribute. The basalt statuary, displaying a range of styles of execution, could alternatively be understood as representations of deceased ancestors or royalty or as depictions of the deity. The figure standing on the bull bore an emblem across its chest that strongly resembles that on the incense altar from the Stratum 1A cella. These share the same iconography as displayed in the contemporary ceremonial precinct in Area A, as well as the wavy-line motifs on the basalt krater. The bone plaques, which
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likely adorned a box or other object, depicted an offering table, the legs of a striding man, and possibly a building. It is very possible that these plaques were part of a larger assemblage depicting a procession, ceremony or feasting scene and that these scenes reflected certain activities taking place in the temple (Zuckerman 2007a: 192–193). Thus, the iconography on these objects contributed to creating an overall perception of unity of symbolism, on the one hand, and of depicting appropriate representations as a backdrop to cultic processions that took place within the temple, on the other. Unique among the temples analyzed, the Hazor temple presents a situation in which temple activities and their relative frequencies can be analyzed through three clearly demarcated zones – the temple interior, the temple courtyard, and the area beyond the temple. The temple interior, and within that space, the cella, demonstrated the most diverse and frequent evidence of both mundane and cultic activities. On the other end of the spectrum, the space beyond the temenos, as much as can be discerned from the limited exposures, demonstrated the least evidence for a variety of activity types. The temple courtyard was somewhere in the middle. It should be no surprise that the transitional spaces from one zone to the next often functioned with a special character. These liminal zones were often found with evidence of votive offerings, especially the thresholds leading in the cella and into the temenos entrance.
Chapter 9 Hazor Area C, the Stelae Temple The architecture of Hazor’s Area C Stelae Temple was discussed in Section 4.8.4. It was in use in Stratum 1B (LB IIA) and Stratum 1A (LB IIB). The overall inventory from the temple’s interior is small in comparison to the other sites (Table VIII). Activities indicated by the assemblages reflect mainly consumption (two thirds of both strata’s assemblages are composed of bowls, goblets and chalices) and cultic activities involving maṣṣebot, as well as limited signs of storage and food preparation. In contrast to the previous and following case studies, the Stelae Temple will be analyzed in relation to the surrounding Area C neighborhood. Thus, first a contextual analysis of the objects from the temple itself will be analyzed. This will be followed be a contextual analysis of the structures from the surrounding neighborhood (Yadin et al. 1958: 71–98, Pls. XXII–XXXI, LXXXV–XCII, CLXII; Yadin et al. 1960: 76–126, Pls. XXIV–XXXVII, CXVII–CXXVII, CLXXXI–CLXXXIII). Refer to Table VIII, Fig. 9.1, and plans in Figs. 4.54–4.56.
9.1
Contextual Analysis
9.1.1 Stratum 1B The assemblage from the shrine included five bowls (36% of the assemblage), two decorated goblets, one chalice, one krater, one storage jar, two jugs and one lamp (Table VIII; Fig. 4.54). Inside a bronze bowl was a pair of bronze cymbals (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. XC:15–16). A phallus-shaped stone was also recovered from the niche (ibid.: Pl. CLXII:5).65 The only vessel found in situ was a jug located in the center of the temple’s niche. Two well-dressed ashlar slabs were found in situ near the northern wall of shrine (ibid.: 84). It is likely that a number of maṣṣebot originated in this stratum, although none were recovered from the shrine itself. Seventeen roughly worked maṣṣebot were found immediately south of the shrine, clearly tossed aside and not in their original contexts (Yadin et al. 1960: 97, Pl. XXXVII:6). 9.1.2 Stratum 1A From two earlier sub-phases within Stratum 1A beneath the raised niche, a glass scepter, a crude basalt statuette, two bowls, and a small maṣṣebah were found (ibid.: 87, Pl. CLXII:1). The ceramic assemblage from the shrine’s final destruction layer mainly exhibited signs of consumption and included 15 bowls (55% of the assemblage), four chalices, one krater, two cooking pots, one storage jar, one jug, two juglets and two lamps (Table VIII; Fig. 4.54). The cultic objects from the shrine included ten basalt maṣṣebot (one of which bore a relief), a statue of a seated male, a lion orthostat, an offering table from the niche and two crudelyexecuted statuettes made from basalt (Yadin et al. 1958: Pls. XXVIII–XXXI, CLXII:6–7). A perforated basalt disk and a dolerite mace head were also found in the temple (ibid.: Pl. XCII:18,20). The maṣṣebot (stelae) stood in a row inside the niche with their finished flat fronts facing east. They ranged in height from 22–65 cm, ranged from 7–21 cm wide, and from 6–11 cm thick. They were surrounded on one side by the basalt statue and on the other by the lion orthostat (Fig. 9.2). Stele 6 was carved in relief, depicting two outstretched arms reaching upwards toward a symbol at the top (Fig. 9.3). The symbol, thought to be divine, is composed of a round disk surrounded by an upward facing crescent and two tassels suspended in the center (Yadin 1972: 71–72). The basalt statue is 40 cm tall and was found in situ on the southern side of the niche (Fig. 9.4). It depicts a beardless man seated on a square stool whose head was found broken off nearby. The man holds a bowl in his right hand and across his chest is an inverted crescent. On the northern side of the maṣṣebot was the basalt lion orthostat (Fig. 16.3b). The lion, carved in relief, was in a crouching position. The basalt offering table was a rectangular slab that sat on the raised niche centered in front of the maṣṣebot. It did not have any features comparable to the Area H offering tables (cf. Section 8.2.3.2). Two of the crude statuettes were found in the niche (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. CLXII:6–7). One (ibid.: Pl. CLXII:6) is a schematic portrayal of a human figure and was found lying north of the lion orthostat while the other (ibid.: Pl. CLXII:7) is a schematic representation of a seated human (Beck 1990: 91). A third statuette (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. CLXII:5) is either a schematized human in which only the outline of a head is worked, or a phallic65
This is according to the original publication (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. CLXII:5), but Yadin later states the phallus-shaped stone was found in the later Stratum 1A (Yadin 1972: 72).
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shaped stone (compare Beck 1990: 91, with Yadin et al. 1958: 90); in either case, this third stone was more crudely fashioned than the other two (Fig. 9.5).
9.2
Analysis of Behavioral Patterns
Architectural features such as the raised niche and the benches lining the walls, the maṣṣebot and the other cultic objects support the identification of the Stelae Temple as a shrine. In Stratum 1B, the ceramic assemblage, although limited, is most indicative of consumption or offering of food and drink. No evidence for food preparation was detected from the shrine’s interior while very limited storage capabilities were extant. The two flat stones on the north side of the shrine were platforms for presenting offerings, as were the benches around the walls and the niche (as evidenced by the jug found in situ standing atop the early niche). It is likely that the earlier Stratum 1B niche had maṣṣebot erected in it as well. Both phases therefore not only exhibited continuity in architectural layout, benches and location of the niche, but also in being furnished with maṣṣebot. Further, cymbals are generally found in cultic contexts in the southern Levant (cf. Stern 1984: 23). They related to activities inducing sound, possibly during ritual. Either these objects were used in the temple, or they were presented there as a votive offering. The assemblage from Stratum 1A was slightly larger than the previous stratum. It reflected similar activities: mainly consumption and cultic activities with very limited possibility of storage and food preparation. There was a higher percentage of bowls, an increase in chalices and an appearance of juglets and cooking pots in this stratum. No goblets were yielded. The overall numbers are so limited that it is difficult to ascertain whether these variances are significant. The higher percentage of bowls could therefore indicate a larger number of potential participants involved in ritual activity. The increase in chalices might strengthen this observation if they were used for drinking liquids, although chalices, as indicated in Section 7.3.2.2, might also have been used for incense burning. The disappearance of goblets would be less significant if chalices were used for drinking, since another vessel type would have been used for the suspected drinking activities performed with goblets in Stratum 1B. The cooking pots might signify cooking took place in or near the temple. However, cooking would require an oven which was not found within the Stelae Temple itself. Additionally, there does not appear to be sufficient space for food preparation or cooking in the temple in general. Thus, the cooking pots most likely were used elsewhere and brought to the temple with cooked and prepared food within the vessels for the purpose of either consuming the contents within the temple or for presenting them as an offering. It is also possible, although less likely, that cooking pots were being stored, but not used, in the temple. 9.2.1 The Use of Special Objects within the Stelae Temple The non-ceramic objects from the Stratum 1A raised niche make it certain that that space was the focal point of the activity. The maṣṣebot, the basalt statuettes, and the offering table yielded there were unquestionably the most significant objects in the temple. 9.2.1.1
Maṣṣebot (Stelae)
The maṣṣebot, as discussed above, were the most prominent objects visible when entering the shrine. The central stone was engraved. Yadin identified the symbol, and thus the cult practiced in the Stelae Temple, as that of the moon god, Sin or Eraḫ. He connected this symbol with the similar one that was on the chest of the seated statuette – also which he attributed to the moon deity (Yadin 1972: 73–74). The maṣṣebah with the relief is a rare example of well-executed iconography carved into the face of a Canaanite standing stone. Only in other rare occasions does this occur (e.g. Tel Kitan, Timna, Beth Shean). The maṣṣebah from Tel Kitan is suggestive of a female deity (Eisenberg 1977). On the other hand, the Area C Stelae Temple’s maṣṣebah indicates male deity worship. However, Yadin also suggested that the raised arms could be a symbol of a goddess, a consort of the moon god. A later Punic stele with similar iconography representing Tanit, Ba‘al Ḥammon’s consort, is an echo of this earlier tradition already witnessed at the LB Stelae Temple. A bronze standard (discussed below) further indicates a female deity was worshipped in Area C (Yadin 1972: 73–74).
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Chapter 9 Lion Orthostat
The lion orthostat was part of a larger phenomenon at Hazor, but is a diminutive version of the larger examples from Hazor Areas H and A. It was likely not in its original context when discovered in the temple’s niche, as it was buried beneath the northernmost stele and the side of the orthostat worked in relief was turned facing the north wall of the temple and was not visible to viewers. It likely originated as a doorjamb of the Stratum 1B temple (Yadin et al. 1958: 89–90; 1972: 72; Ben-Tor 2006: 4). This phenomenon is known from both Anatolian and Syrian contexts and places the lion orthostat in Area C within a wider phenomenon of temple entrances flanked by lions that greeted individuals upon their approach and entrance into the temple edifice. Yadin even considered the possibility that the lion orthostat originated in a pre-Stratum 1B building, possibly from the LB I (Yadin 1972: 73). Although a possibility, no structure as such was identified during excavations. 9.2.1.3
Statues
The 40 cm basalt statue of the seated male figure was either a deity or a human (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. XXXI:1). Yadin interpreted the figure as the moon-god, possibly Sin of Harran, based on the crescent engraved on the statue’s chest and its close proximity to the maṣṣebah with similar lunar iconography (Yadin et al. 1958: 88–89). Others suggested the statue and associated maṣṣebot were deceased ancestors, with the larger statuette a deceased king, ruler, or head of a family and the maṣṣebot as stand-ins for other deceased individuals (Albright 1957: 242; Galling 1959). Similar basalt statues of seated figures have been found at Hazor (two from the Area H cella and a third from Area F) as well as at Ebla and Qatna, generally interpreted as enthroned kings or ancestors. Thus, the Area C statue might also be understood as such. No head covering or horns that could be used to definitively identify the male as a deity are present. Yet, the Area C statue differs from the other examples in a striking manner: it bears iconography (Ornan 2012: Figs. 7–8; Matthiae 2013a: Pls. 130–132a; 136b–141a). Two other basalt statues from Hazor do in fact bear symbols – the deity standing on the bull from the Stratum 1B Area H temple and the statue attached to the large ceremonial basin from Area A’s Building 7050 (Ben-Tor 2017b: 571–573). Those were likely the Hittite storm deity emblem, suggesting they were intended to be attributes of Hadad/Ba‘al. In both of those cases, it seems the identity of the chief deity worshipped in the migdal temples was the storm god. This is in contrast to the identity of the deity worshipped in the more vernacular Stelae Temple. The crudely fashioned statuettes also require further discussion. Already in the MB, sites such as Nahariya, Megiddo and Hazor already yielded evidence of metal figurines in anthropomorphic form – mainly of bronze and silver – as well as clay figurines of mainly zoomorphic forms. Stone statuettes were less common. In contrast to the cultic objects discussed above, the form and execution of the stone statuettes suggest their intention and role in the cult at the Stelae Temple was different than the maṣṣebot, the seated male statuette, and the lion orthostat. Together as a group, the three were poorly executed. Their crudeness can be interpreted as either due to intentionality or as simply having been unfinished products. Whereas the basalt objects were directly connected to the official cultic activities and worship in the temple, the three crude statuettes do not have the appearance of official cult objects. They have variously been defined as guardian spirits (Howard-Carter 1970: 40), ancestor idols (Kirkbride 1969) or even as phallus-shaped fetish objects (Beck 1990). This low level of execution established two things. Firstly, the contrast between the schematic examples and the larger finely-executed seated male emphasizes the prestige, importance, and likely elite association of the latter within the Area C cultic activities. If all were portrayals of humans, the seated statuette should be interpreted as a king or at least local or tribal leader. Secondly, the contrast suggests that whereas the seated male figure was executed or commissioned by elites or cultic personnel and sat as a permanent fixture in the shrine, the crude figurines were not temple commissioned; rather, they were brought to the temple either in acts of popular attempts to mimic the temple’s statuette or to serve as votive offerings that were placed on the niche as well. There is further evidence that during kispum rituals, figurines as stand-ins were used as votive offerings (Katz 2014).
Hazor Area C, the Stelae Temple
9.3
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Vernacular Cult at Hazor: Interpretation of the Stelae Temple
9.3.1 Assessing Previous Interpretations: Moon Deity Worship or Cult of the Dead? The Stelae Temple was likely dedicated to the moon god, possibly Sin or Eraḫ (Yadin et al. 1958: 88–89; Zuckerman 2012: 103). Although the lunar emblem iconography points toward the moon god, another interpretation has suggested the shrine was related to the cult of the dead. In this latter interpretation, the statues and maṣṣebot might have represented deceased ancestors, with the larger statuette specifically as a deceased king, ruler, or head of a family and the maṣṣebot as stand-ins for other deceased individuals (Albright 1957: 242; Galling 1959). In fact, there was often a close connection between the moon cycle and mortuary cult in the ANE (Katz 2014). Ornan recently suggested that kispum rites might have taken place inside the temple (Ornan 2012: 12). Thus, more recent interpretations have integrated iconographic, textual, and contextual data to suggest locals at Hazor in Area C partook in some form of cult of the dead, based around a shrine with connections to the moon deity (cf. Section 17.3.5.2). If the temple was related to ancestor worship, then the maṣṣebot would be cult objects identified with deceased ancestors (e.g. KTU 1.17 I:26–28 from Ugarit; cf. Section 16.3.4.1). It would follow, then, that the basalt statuette of the seated male was not a deity (contra Yadin) but instead a representation of a deceased ancestor, possibly even a local ruler. In this line of thought, the crude figurines could either have represented other deceased ancestors brought in by neighborhood locals (possibly of lower social status than that of the basalt statue) or at least objects used to recall their memory. In certain instances, maṣṣebot might have functioned similarly (Graessar 1972: 37; Mettinger 1995: 32–33). On the other hand, if the maṣṣebot instead represented multiple deities, the figurines should be interpreted as votive offerings in the form of stand-ins for worshippers or as imitations of anthropomorphic forms of the deities. Cultic spaces dedicated to venerating the dead have been suggested for other Canaanite temples (e.g. Lachish Fosse Temple, Ashkelon’s shrine of the calf, and Tell el-Dab‘a’s cultic precinct) as well as sites in Syria including Ebla (Bietak 2002, 2003b; Ornan 2012: 13). The immediate difficulty with this argument is the lack of indigenous Canaanite texts discussing such rites, and the general lack of similarity between layouts and assemblages in these temples. Mortuary cult was undoubtedly a reality in the ancient Near East. In Canaan specifically, then, it might be logical to consider that it also existed. Yet, it is not possible to create a “temple-type” or “assemblage-type” that could serve as a methodological tool for identifying mortuary temples in Canaan. This stands in contrast to Egypt, for example, where clear examples of mortuary temples and textual documentation exist (Baines 1995; Lesko 1995). The stone statuettes further indicate social hierarchy amongst the Stelae Temple worshippers: those who could present better works of art and those who had less to offer and less fiscal means and artistic capabilities to acquire or make more precious statuettes. Other objects such as the glass scepter handle and the mace head (possibly exhibiting a symbolic ceremonial function as at Tel Mevorakh) could have similarly been offerings that were used in rituals or ceremonies and then deposited inside the shrine as a dedication to the Area C cult. In fact, the form of prestige objects in Stratum 1A resembles other elite status symbols from Hazor, particularly the well-executed basalt statue and the lion orthostat. These appear at the Stelae Temple coeval with the restructuring of the courtyard space outside of the temple. It is possible that the restricted access to the temple in this final stratum signifies elites gaining control over what was once a more inclusive cultic space, transforming it to a socially and ritually hierarchic space. The elite offerings, although limited, might therefore be a product of elites, possibly not from the Area C neighborhood, gaining control over the cult in Area C. To contextualize the activities that took place within the Stelae Temple, the entire contemporary neighborhood must be taken into account. If interpretations that some form of ancestor worship took place in the temple and that temple objects might have been brought from elsewhere, the courtyard space facing the temple as well as the domestic structures surrounding the complex are integral to the interpretation of the vernacular cult in Area C. 9.3.2 Activities from the Area C Neighborhood 9.3.2.1 Contextual Analysis The number of ceramic vessels from the Stelae Temple was considerably small when compared to other MB and LB temples (Figs. 13.1, 13.2). The small size of the shrine would appear to be partly responsible for the
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small quantity of vessels. Activities would have been limited in terms of number of participants. Further, the lack of space available for storing vessels would have minimized the total number of vessels stored and then reused from one ritual to the next. One aspect of the temple that has received little attention has been its integration into the surrounding domestic neighborhood. Most southern Levantine temples exposed to date were freestanding, often separated from their surroundings by a temenos wall and thus physically removed from other spaces at the site. An analysis of the Stelae Temple, however, requires understanding that the temple functioned as an integral part within a much larger web of activities that took place in the surrounding neighborhood. This section therefore investigates the Strata 1B and 1A neighborhood to better understand how the Stelae Temple functioned within the surrounding domestic context (cf. Daviau 1993: 220–244). From Stratum 1B, a number of domestic structures surrounded the temple to the north, east and south, each composed of a complex of rooms, courtyards and open spaces (Fig. 4.55). House 6063 was located to the east and was a multi-functional domestic unit that had evidence of a pottery production (a potter’s wheel, oven, bins and shelves were found in Room 6063), food preparation, food consumption and storage, and included cultic vessels such as a chalice and miniature bowl (Yadin et al. 1958: 76–77). Further north, House 6225 had evidence of pottery production and food preparation (a pair of potter’s wheels and a basalt grinding bowl were found in Locus 6225) as well as storage, consumption (a few bowls, a jug) and objects indicative of prestige (a pyxis from Locus 6226) and possible domestic cult (a miniature bowl from Locus 6224) (Yadin et al. 1960: 95–96, 100–103, Pls. CXXI–CXXIII, CXXVII). Additionally, a clay mask (ibid.: Pls. CLXXXII– CLXXXIII) recovered from Room 6225 indicates some form of cultic activity or ritual (Fig. 9.6). The mask, which was relatively small and had no nostril or mouth holes, possibly adorned a statue, perhaps early evidence of a late Punic tradition that masks were expressions of a goddess (Yadin 1972: 74). The mask may relate to other cultic finds from the neighborhood and temple. Directly north of the temple and to the west of House 6225 was House 6249 (Yadin et al. 1960: 97–98), which had a courtyard where multiple activities were performed, including food preparation and storage (two ovens, two basalt grinding bowls, a krater, a silo, and a cooking pot). A number of side rooms had evidence of business transactions or prestige (a cylinder seal) in addition to ritual or domestic cult (two chalices and a female figurine). House 6061 was directly across the courtyard from the entrance of the temple and had evidence of prestige and adornment (a scarab, pyxis), with little other evidence of activity types (Yadin et al. 1958: 78). East of House 6061, House 6101 and the nearby open areas 6100 and 6229 exhibited evidence of food storage (a silo), food preparation (baking trays, a cooking pot, a krater, an oven, a basalt bowl), consumption, possible domestic ritual (one chalice from Locus 6229 and two miniature bowls from House 6101) and either the storage or use of a weapon (one bronze arrowhead) (Yadin et al. 1958: 77–78, Pls. LXXXV– LXXXVI). Further east and south, some evidence recovered from House 6108 suggests the possibility of food preparation, storage and business transactions, but the limited exposure of the area does not allow for a fuller understanding of the assemblage. One other assemblage, recovered from Locus 6211 in the eastern extremity of the excavated area, included lamps, a jar, and a bronze cult standard with iconography depicting a female holding two snakes and standing beneath a crescent-shaped lunar emblem. It was intended to be attached to a pole (Fig. 9.7). The room was likely roofed (hence the lamps) and involved cultic activities or storage of cultic objects (the cult standard). In Stratum 1A, the use of space to the north, east and south of the temple continued, but with little architectural continuity excluding continued use of the Stelae Temple itself (Fig. 4.56). The types of activities detected in the poorly preserved Stratum 1A remains included evidence of storage, food preparation, domestic cult (miniature vessels) and prestige (imported pottery) (Yadin et al. 1958: Pls. LXXXVII–LXXXVIII, 1960: Pl. CXXIV). 9.3.2.2
Analysis of Behavioral Patterns
Activities not included in the Area C Stelae Temple but performed by the local community included pottery production, storage, food preparation, possible textile production, and limited evidence of either business transactions or displays of wealth via various status symbols. There was also evidence of domestic cultic activities, indicated by the chalices, miniature vessels, the clay mask, the female figurine, and the bronze cult standard. In fact, vessels often associated with cultic activity, such as miniature vessels, were completely lacking from the temple itself, but were found in a number of houses and open spaces to the east.
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This indicates the boundaries of cultic activity spread beyond the immediate walls of the temple. This is further supported by the cult standard’s iconography closely resembling that of the temple’s stele, suggesting that the objects were part of the same shared cultic tradition.66 It is possible the standard was a temple object that was moved around during processions. It also demonstrates that the symbolic, artistic, and iconographic imagination visible in the temple permeated throughout the Area C domesticate neighborhood as well (or vice versa). 9.3.3 The Relationship between the Sacred and Profane in Vernacular Cultic Spaces The activity types most indicated by the assemblage within the Stelae Temple are consumption and cultic activity. Limited evidence for other activities is evident, and for example, the few cooking pots found inside the temple do not reflect cooking and food preparation from within the temple itself. The rich iconography of the basalt statue and stele reflects traditions known from outside the Levant, possibly indicating the worship of the moon deity, a combination of the moon deity and his consort, or potentially the worship of the dead. In contrast to previous studies, this study integrated an analysis of the activities from the surrounding neighborhood since those activities likely related to the overall functioning of the temple. These included consumption, food preparation, storage, production, displays of wealth and objects indicating personal adornment, and some forms of ritual – possibly domestic in nature. These activities would accordingly account for those that were necessary for the temple cult to function but were not indicated within the temple itself. Storage and food preparation had to be performed elsewhere. Thus, in a non-elite neighborhood with a small temple, food preparation and storage were performed in private residences, intertwining the mundane and sacred spheres. The shared iconographic tradition noted from both temple and domestic contexts strengthens the argument that cultic life permeated both the temple and domestic spheres and suggests that the cult permeated into domestic life. Whereas the elite-controlled Area H temple was established as that which was separated from the profane, the Area C Stelae Temple seems to reflect a more integrated, domestic and vernacular tradition that was less hierarchically organized and managed.
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It is possible the standard represents both the moon-god and his consort. The mask could support this interpretation, as inscriptional evidence from Punic contexts in which both the male deity and his consort were depicted and worshipped often refer to the goddess as the face of Ba‘al (Yadin 1972: 74). The problem with this interpretation, of course, is multifold. The finds were all from different contexts so there is no way of knowing whether they should be viewed as related to one another; the Punic analog is significantly later; geographically, the Punic context is extremely far away from Hazor; and no clear evidence relating the two disparate traditions exists in the interim.
Chapter 10 Lachish Fosse Temple The Fosse Temple’s architecture and location were discussed in Part II (4.8.1.1). The temple included many adjoining pits, a possible outdoor courtyard area and additional nearby structures. The excavators assumed the material from the pits originated in the temple itself, as demonstrated by a model of the temple later constructed by Tufnell currently housed in the Israel Museum.67 In addition to the original publication of the temple (Tufnell et al. 1940), later reevaluations of the temple’s use and assemblages were dealt with in the publication of Tel Aviv University’s excavations at the site (Ussishkin 2004: 57–62; Singer-Avitz 2004). For the contextual analysis conducted below, refer to Tables IX and X, and Figs. 10.1–10.4.68 Since the information regarding the quantities of bowls provided by Tufnell in the text and tables do not accord with one another, I have chosen to utilize for bowls specifically the total count according to the text. Thus, Tufnell indicates that of the 2,165 vessels examined and classified, the overwhelming majority – 1,806 – were bowls (Tufnell et al. 1940: 79; Table IX).69
10.1 Contextual Analysis 10.1.1 Phase I The overall assemblage from the temple and pits in this first phase demonstrates overwhelming evidence for consumption (Table IX). Nearly 75% of the assemblage was composed of bowls. Additional vessels contributing to consumption included juglets (13%) as well as the goblets and jugs. Additional activity types attested were food preparation and storage, as well as limited amounts of offerings of objects related to prestige, personal adornment, and even votive offerings related to cultic activities (metal male figurine). 10.1.1.1 Temple I From inside the structure, the assemblage indicates that consumption, storage, possible food preparation, as well as cultic activities (a cultic stand) and votive offerings (the metal figurine, other prestige objects). A total of 56 objects were recovered from within the temple, 44 of which were ceramic (Table X). Of the vessels, 43% were bowls. From the altar, there were 11 bowls, five of which were Cypriot imports, one decorated goblet, a Cypriot krater, a Mycenaean kylix, one baking tray, 11 juglets, one imported Egyptian ovoid jar,70 a Cypriot red lustrous ware spindle bottle and two lamps. The objects from the altar reflect consumption and are particularly rich in imports, indicating that objects of prestige were deposited on the altar, possibly after their use in the temple. In the rest of Room D, there were eight more bowls, two large storage jars, one decorated jug,71 two juglets and a cultic stand. A number of non-ceramic objects were recovered from the temple interior as well. These included seven metal objects, a scarab, a small plaque, a cylinder seal, large quantities of animal bones and astragali. A single bead was recovered from the altar. Metal objects include a bronze figurine of a deity in a striking pose (Fig. 10.5), a gold pendant of an eight-pointed star hammered in repoussé, and an earring. The metal figurine is the only metal figurine from the Fosse Temple and is the only object from the entire assemblage that depicts a male deity (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XXVI:31–32). The gold pendant was one of 15 pendants recovered from
67
This model is not an accurate representation of the find spots of the vessels, as it is clear certain vessels found in pits were placed inside the temple. One example of this that is obvious is the placement of the inscribed ewer, found in Pit 172 during excavations, inside the sanctuary itself. 68 I do the best in this chapter to make use of Tufnell’s publication, which leaves out important information such as loci within rooms and or the total number of specific objects within each locus. For example, it is impossible to reconstruct the number of Type 21 bowls (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XXXVII:21) within each of the listed loci, since of the 78 attested bowls, only 22 loci are listed without reference to how many bowls were from each. 69 The overall number of vessels presented in the Lachish II volume do not total 2,165, nor is the total bowl count 1,806 (Table IX). Likely, a number of vessels was not published due to their fragmentary nature. 70 This ovoid jar, a Type JR2 Egyptian vessel, dates to the LB I–LB IIA and is slender to medium broad with concave necks and everted rims, was likely used for serving liquids (Martin 2011: 59–60). 71 Part of this jug was found as well in Pit 207. Thus, it was deposited in the pit after it broke in the temple interior (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. LI: 272).
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the temple’s three phases, and specifically resembles six other pendants that bore similar stars (ibid.: Pl. XXVI:15). The scarab is of the Hyksos style and depicts a standing male wearing a conical head cap, possibly a deity, with his right hand in a striking position and left hand extending toward a snake (ibid.: Pl. XXXII:1), thus resembling the bronze figurine. The plaque bears the cartouche of Amenhotep III and provides a terminus post quem for the construction of Temple II (ibid.: Pl. XXXII:7). The cylinder seal depicts a man wearing a turban and belt standing and facing an ibex which happens to be placed upon a raised platform. A tree or branch is depicted rising behind the figure (ibid.: Pl. XXXIII:40). Heavy concentrations of animal bones were found throughout this and all phases of the temple (ibid.: 38–39). The astragali were unique to Temple I and possibly indicate a unique cultic practice at Lachish during this early phase. 10.1.1.2 Pits from Phase I Numerous pits were found to be contemporary to Fosse Temple I based on the ceramic finds found in the pits that corresponded with specific examples from the temple itself (refer to Fig. 10.1). Nine pits from Phase I were found still intact with assemblages (Tufnell et al. 1940: 90–91). Other pits drawn in the plans were either empty or the assemblages were not catalogued and published. Additional pits from later periods were found to contain vessels that were generally understood as Phase I types. Either the pits were in use for long periods of time and accumulated pottery from multiple temple phases or the temple ceramic paraphernalia was not limited to a single phase but instead continued to be used in later periods as well. It is clear, however, that seven of the nine Phase I pits were contemporary with Temple I and prior to the construction of Temple II, for they were located outside the walls of Temple I and were sealed beneath the walls and floors of the expanded Temple II. It has more recently been suggested that two pits, Pits 207 and 258, predate Temple I and the other pits (Singer-Avitz 2004: 1026). The pits vary in size, the smallest (Pit 171) containing a single vessel and the largest (Pit 211) containing 56 vessel types. They were all located outside the temple walls. In general, the pits were filled with vessels indicative of various degrees of consumption, food preparation, storage, the use of prestige objects and objects for personal adornment, and of limited cultic activity. Directly to the north of the temple were Pits 207 and 255. Pit 207 contained 39 vessels and yielded vessels suggestive of consumption, food preparation, limited storage, objects demonstrating prestige and some cultic activity, as well as limited storage. Twenty-one of the vessels (54%) were bowls, four of which were Cypriot imports. The pit also contained one decorated goblet, two kraters (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XLIX:256,170), four cooking pots, three jugs, one of which was imported Black Lustrous ware (ibid.: Pl. LI:276), four juglets, part of a cultic stand, one storage jar and two lamps. Three additional objects from the pit were a metal toggle pin, two interlinked rings, and a ceramic lid in the form of a rosette. Pit 255 was much smaller and contained only three bowls, all of which had exact parallels in the temple interior. Two more pits were discovered west of the temple. Pit 258 was just outside Room A and Pit 212 was further south outside of Rooms B and D. Pit 258 had 16 total vessel types, eight of which were bowls. Four bowls were imports. In addition, one imported Cypriot krater, one storage jar, two jugs (one of which was an imported Black Lustrous ware jug, ibid.: Pl. LI:276), one cultic stand, a small jar stand and two lamps. In addition, a conically-shaped stone object was in the pit, possibly the pivot for a potter’s turntable. Pit 212 contained five locally-made bowls. Three mud-bricks were found sealing the pit (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. III:2). The rest of the pits were located to the south of the temple. Pits 211, 253 and 256 were directly south of Temple I and were beneath the floors of the temple’s later Rooms E and F. Pit 211 had the largest assemblage from Phase I and was directly south of the temple’s altar and below the floor of Temple II’s Room F. It contained 56 total vessels, indicating consumption, food preparation, storage and with limited objects of personal adornment. There were 32 bowls, 57% of the assemblage. Only two bowls were Cypriot imports. This assemblage also included a decorated goblet, five kraters (one Cypriot import), five cooking pots, six storage jars, three jugs, two juglets, a miniature-sized four-handled amphoriskos and one lamp. Non-ceramic objects from the pit included a possible stone stopper or handle, two bronze toggle pins, and two beads. While this deposit had more kraters, cooking pots and storage vessels than all other Phase I contexts, it had a very small percentage of imports in contrast to the generally larger concentrations of imports from this phase. Pit 253 had 28 vessels mainly indicating consumption and food preparation, as well as possible remnants of cultic activity. There were 20 bowls (one Cypriot import), 71% of the assemblage. In addition, one krater,
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three cooking pots, two juglets, part of the cultic stand recovered from the temple interior and one lamp were yielded. The cultic stand (ibid.: Pl. LIII:323) indicates that vessels used and broken in the temple were later removed to the pits, since part of this stand was also found in the Temple I interior. Pit 256 was found with 11 total vessels, eight of which were bowls including one Cypriot import. There was also one krater, one lamp and one jar stand in the pit. In addition, three metal objects (including a fishhook) and six beads were recovered from the pit. Further to the south were Pits 156 and 171. Pit 156 had eight total vessels, six of which were bowls (two Cypriot imports). In addition, one krater and one cooking pot were in the pit. A bead and a metal object identified as either a food whisk or object used for spinning fabric were in the pit as well. Pit 171 was located far to the south near a few other empty pits and contained one vessel, a Bichrome krater. 10.1.2 Phase II The activities from Phase II of the temple and pits reflect large quantities of consumption (nearly 80% of the assemblage was bowls), with limited evidence of food preparation and storage. In addition, the small finds further indicate that objects of prestige and personal adornment were brought to and used at the temple as well as objects and vessels indicative of cultic activity (Table IX). 10.1.2.1 Temple II Two rooms from the temple were found with ceramic remains, Rooms D and F (Table X). It is likely that many of the Temple II vessels were reused in later Temple III since there was no destruction horizon between Phase II to III. The assemblages of both rooms are quite similar, with two-thirds of both being bowls. Of the 38 vessels in Room D, there were 24 bowls (63%), six of which were Cypriot imports. The assemblage also included one goblet, two kraters, two jugs (one Base Ring II), three juglets and six lamps. Thirty-nine other objects were yielded in the room including a bone face for inlay, an ivory lid of a cosmetic spoon adorned with a duck, a stone imitation of a Cypriot Base Ring jar, a stone stopper and spindle whorl, two gold pendants (one depicting a face), two bronze pins, four scarabs, 23 beads and an ostrich egg (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pls. XVI:3, XIX:19,XXV:6, XXVI:4,6, XXXII, XXXIV–XXXV). Of the 22 vessels from Room F, 14 were bowls (64%), four of which were Cypriot imports. The room additionally had one chalice, one cooking pot, one Base Ring II jug, two juglets (one Base Ring II), one lamp, and two cup-and-saucers. Room F had four other objects including one metal ring, one scarab, a Mitannianstyle cylinder seal depicting a standing man and two birds (ibid.: XXXIII:42) and a fragment of a faience bowl with a lotus and bird motif decorating the interior, another sherd of which was found in Pit 201 (ibid.: Pls. XXIII:64). 10.1.2.2 Pits and House 150 from Phase II There were 22 pits found with vessels associated with Temple II (ibid.: 90–91), 19 of which can be dated strictly to the period of Temple II based on the ceramic repertoire (Fig. 10.2). Pits 210 and 247 had pottery that was used in both Temples I and II, and Pit 238 had vessels from Temples II and III. Two isolated pits were located north of the temple. Further to the north, a number of pits were clustered in the area of Houses 100. The vast majority of the pits were located to the east of the Fosse Temple. Another cluster was located beyond the temple’s southeast corner immediately outside of Room F. One other cluster was located further to the south of the temple. Finally, a number of pits surrounded House 150, located about ten meters west of the temple façade. The pits particularly emphasized consumption. The two pits to the north were Pits 133 and 146. Pit 133 was an isolated deposit and was composed of vessels mainly associated with consumption, although only one of the seven vessels was a bowl. The krater and goblet resemble one another in decoration and might be a set. Further, two juglets (one an imported Base Ring I juglet), a lamp and a jar stand were in the pit. It is unlikely that this represents a complete assemblage but rather part of one. Pit 146, to the northeast of the temple, was particularly large and represents a much more complete assemblage. There were a total of 38 vessels, 26 (68%) of which were bowls and only one of which was Cypriot import. In addition, the pit had two kraters, three cooking pots, one storage jar, two juglets, three lamps, and one cup-and-saucer. Thus, the assemblage indicates activities involving the immediate consumption of food and beverage, the preparation and storage of food, and a large holding capacity for liquids.
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Further, the cup-and-saucer related to cult. Small finds from the pit include two earrings, a metal pin, a cylinder seal and four beads. Pits 141, 142 and 143 were located in a paved area near the structures of Houses 100 and their fragmentary assemblages suggest they were not complete in themselves. Pit 141 had three total vessels, two of which were bowls (one Cypriot) and one a lamp, and additional animal horns were yielded from the pit. Pit 142 also only had three vessels: one bowl, one juglet and one lamp. Pit 143 had a single cooking pot. Seven pits were located to the east of Room D – Pits 249, 251, 199, 244, 252, 248 and 238. These pits largely reflect consumption, although some of the pits indicate limited amounts of food preparation, storage, prestige objects and cultic activity. Pit 249 had nine vessels, eight of which were bowls (no imports) and the other a cooking pot. Pit 251 was composed of two vessels, a decorated chalice and a decorated goblet. Pit 199 yielded 11 vessels, nine of which were bowls (82%) and included two Cypriot imports. A jug and a lentoid flask (Cypriot) were also found in this pit. Additional objects from the pit included a faience juglet and handled bowl, a scarab, a bead, and an ostrich egg. Pit 244 was also composed of 11 vessels, eight of which were bowls (73%) including two Cypriot imports, a cooking pot, a storage jar and a cup-and-saucer. Pit 252 had only two vessels, both imports: a Cypriot bowl and a Base Ring II jug. Pit 248 was the largest in this cluster of pits with a total of 18 vessel types. Fifteen (83%) were bowls, including one Cypriot import. The assemblage also had one krater, one cooking pot and one cup-and-saucer. Other finds included a scarab and 15 beads. Pit 238 had 9 total vessels, 6 of which were bowls, in addition to a krater, juglet and lamp. The five pits to the southeast of the temple vary significantly in size, from Pit 257 with a single bowl to Pit 247 which contained 58 vessels. Overall, the main activities indicated appear to be consumption. Pits 250 and 257 abut the outermost section of Room F and appear to lie just outside the temple walls. Pit 250 had a total of 16 vessels, 12 of which were bowls (75%), none imported. The assemblage also had one cooking pot, one juglet, one lamp and one jar stand. Of Pit 247’s 58 vessel types, 36 (62%) were bowls. No imports were yielded. The pit also contained one goblet, two chalices, five kraters, one cooking pot, two storage jars, one imported Base Ring I jug, four juglets, and six lamps. A scarab and jar seal were also found in the pit. Pit 209 had 32 total vessel types, 21 of which were bowls (66%). Four of those were Cypriot imports. The assemblage also had one chalice, two kraters, one imported Base Ring I jug, three juglets and four lamps. Fragments of two faience bowls and one bead also came from the pit as well. Pit 210 had 24 total vessels. Only seven (29%) were bowls, all local. The pit also had four goblets (two were fragmentary and fit with pieces from a goblet in Room D from Temple II as well as the E II deposit, see below), four chalices (all decorated), two kraters, two cooking pots, one storage jar, one juglet and three lamps. Other objects from Pit 210 include a fragment of a faience bowl, a metal ring, a cylinder seal, and a bead. Pit 210 in particular was unique in the large quantity and percentage of chalices and goblets. This cluster of pits overall seems to have had fewer attestations of imported wares than the other pit areas. To the south of the temple are Pits 203, 205, 206 and the deposit below Room E of Temple III. Pits 203 and 205 had two vessels each. Pit 203 was composed of two imported Cypriot bowls. Pit 205 had a bowl with a tree design on the interior and a Base Ring II jug. Pit 206 had 33 total vessels with evidence of food preparation, consumption, some objects of prestige and objects for personal adornment. This pit included 16 bowls (49%), five of which were Cypriot imports. The pit also contained two decorated goblets, four kraters (three were decorated, one with a tree motif), five cooking pots, a Cypriot White Painted VI spouted jug, three juglets (two were imported Base Ring I’s) and two lamps. Other objects from the pit include a faience jar, a gold pendant of a star and a gold plaque both worked in repoussé, four scarabs and 12 beads. The deposit below Room E was extensive, with 44 total vessels, 29 (66%) of which were bowls. All were local. The assemblage also included three goblets, two chalices, three kraters, four juglets and three lamps. Other finds include an ivory cosmetic cover (the only ivory object from Phase II), two fragments of faience vessels, four scarabs and three beads. The only other clear structure from this stratum is Building 150, found denuded of all objects except for a metal figurine of a naked male. Directly outside Building 150 were located a number of pits, one of which (Pit 149) had two vessels: a krater decorated with a tree motif and a Base Ring II jug. 10.1.3 Phase III The temple’s violent destruction by conflagration was surely a devastating event for the locals, but its quick destructive nature preserved, in situ, cultic paraphernalia and equipment in every room of the temple. The
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distribution of the vessels in the destruction layer is indicative of the activities that were conducted immediately before the temple’s demise and provides significant amounts of data regarding the nature of the activities that took place within the Fosse Temple. It is evident from the photographs provided in the final report that the assemblage from the temple interior were mainly composed of bowls (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pls. VII:1, VIII:1–3). Overall, Phase III comprised vessels largely associated with consumption (82% bowls) in addition to activities of all categories (Table IX, Fig. 10.1). In fact, the 229 small finds are the most extensive and richest from any of the temples analyzed in this study and include many prestige objects, objects for personal adornment and objects related to cult were offered at the temple. Overall, this stratum exhibits the most vessels associated with cultic activity as well. 10.1.3.1 Temple III Four rooms from the temple interior yielded assemblages (Table X). Unfortunately, only a range of vessel totals and percentages is obtainable for Temple III, for it is unclear precisely how many scoops and cup-andsaucers were actually recovered from inside the temple versus from the pits (cf. Tufnell et al. 1940: Pls. XXXIX: 66, XLIV: 179–183). Overall, about half of the assemblage from the temple interior was composed of bowls, and strikingly, possibly over 20% of the assemblage was composed of cultic vessels (cultic stands, scoops, cup-and-saucers). There was also evidence for food preparation, limited storage, and a wealth of objects (121 from inside the temple) indicative of prestige, personal adornment and cultic activities. Room D, the main hall, was saturated with pottery around the benches, in niches and shelves in the wall, and on the altar itself. A large assemblage came from Room D (>57–60 depending on the total counts of scoops and cup-and-saucers), 31 of which were bowls (ca. 50%) and only two of which were Cypriot imports. In addition, the room had one goblet, one chalice, three kraters, one cooking pot, one very large four-handled vat plastered into the floor, two jugs (two Base Ring II’s), one small amphoriskos, one cultic stand, two jar stands, between 8–11 cup-and-saucers (more than the four in the plate were found in the room, cf. ibid.: Pl. VIII:5,6), multiple scoops (unclear how many) and four lamps. The iconography on two of the kraters depicts a number of metopes featuring a tree and either ibexes, birds, or a combination of the two straddling either side of the tree (ibid.: Pl. XLVIII:249–250). Other objects and small finds include a faience lid, an alabaster pilgrim flask, a clay zoomorphic figurine, two scarabs and three beads (ibid.: Pls. XXI:49, XXV:1, XXVIII:7, XXXII). On the altar, Deposit 181 had only one ceramic vessel, a chalice. The deposit had the largest concentration of small finds – 42 objects in total – and was clearly disturbed and covered in ash, resulting from the burning down of the temple. The inventory from the altar deposit included objects of ivory and bone, faience, glass, calcite and alabaster vessels, scarabs, cylinder seals, a clay figurine and a metal pin (ibid.: Pls. XV–XX, XXII, XXIV, XXVII–XXVIII, XXXII–XXXIII). The ivory objects included a scooper in the form of an Egyptianizing female figure (Hathor?) with a hand above for the purpose of scooping or holding contents of an offering (Pl. XV:1), a human face for inlay, a figurine of Ptah/Sokar, a duck head, caprid and possible equid heads, a crouching bull, a cylindrical box featuring scenes with bull, lion and bird motifs, “toilet spoons” with floral designs, and scepters, two with objects resembling pomegranates on top. Three faience vessels included a decorated vase, a painted pilgrim flask and a bowl decorated with Egyptian motifs (ibid.: Pl. XXII:55–57). Five glass vessels included two kohl tubes, two different shaped flasks and a pilgrim flask. Additionally, a stone goblet, alabaster bowl, and fragments of two other alabaster vessels were yielded. Five scarabs and two cylinder seals were part of the deposit as well.72 One seal was a Mitannian-style seal depicting two quadrupeds surrounding a seven-branched tree and the other, depicting a figure wearing a turban and long garment and holding a net with two birds inside (ibid.: Pl. XXXIII: 43, 48). On the west side of the platform, opposite Deposit 181, was the only figurine from Phase III, a crudely-made schematic clay figurine in the form of a pillar (Fig. 10.6). Room A had 27 total vessels, 14 of which were bowls (52%), all local. In addition, there were four goblets, one chalice, two cooking pots, two pilgrim flasks, one jar stand and three lamps. Three of the goblets were decorated with animal iconography, one depicting ibexes, one with ibexes and fish, and another with ibexes on either side of a tree (ibid.: Pl. XLVII:238–240). Other objects from the room include two ivory eye inlays,
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Three scarabs were dedicated to Amenhetep III (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XXXII:36–38), one to a solar deity (ibid.: Pl. XXXII:25), and a lion-hunt scarab that reads “live Horus, the mighty bull” on it (ibid.: Pl. XXXII:39).
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a Syrian-styled faience bowl adorned with two heads, a thick faience tile possibly for placing offerings, two alabaster bowls, a metal pin and a bead (ibid.: Pls. XXI: 41,42, XXII:54,58, XXV:2). Room E had a total of at least 28 vessels, 18 of which were bowls (64%) including one Cypriot import. The assemblage also included one goblet, one krater, four cooking pots, one jug, an imported Base Ring (II?) juglet, one storage jar and multiple scoops (unclear how many). The iconography on the krater is composed of multiple metopes with ibexes, birds, and other possible animal motifs (ibid.: Pl. XLVIII:251). Additionally, the room yielded 60 other objects: a bone eye (2/3 life size), ivory objects including a cat with a tenon, a scepter and a peg for a cosmetic spoon, ten fragments of glass vessels, faience objects including a game piece, the neck of a pilgrim flask, Bes and calf amulets, a hemispherical handled-bowl, a gold pendant of an eight-pointed star worked in repoussé, an earring, one scarab, two cylinder seals, a large deposit of faience beads and pendants that have been restored as a necklace (Pl. XIV) and an ostrich egg (ibid.: Pls. XVI–XVII, XX–XXI, XXIII–XXIV, XXVI, XXIX, XXXII–XXXVI). Room F had 19 total vessels, 12 (63%) of which were bowls, all local. The room also had two kraters, two cooking pots, one lamp, one jar stand and multiple scoops. Only two other objects were found in Room F, an incised limestone object and a spindle whorl. 10.1.3.2 Houses 100 and Pits from Phase III To the north of Temple III were the remains of walls from structures called “Houses 100” as well as an associated pavement (ibid.: Pls. XII:3,4; LXXIII).73 A total of 24 pits were contemporary with Temple III (Figs. 10.4a,b). The pits were located in clusters around the northern houses area, in a small group near the fosse wall north of the temple, in a larger cluster east of the temple in the exact location of the Phase II pits, and a few scattered to the south. The assemblage from Houses 100 was composed of 30 vessels, half of which were bowls. This included seven Cypriot imports and another bowl with an interior tree design known from Room D and three contemporary pits. Also included were four kraters (one decorated with a tree motif), a cooking pot, a storage jar, three imported jugs (one Cypriot White Painted VI spouted jug, one Base Ring II jug, one Cypriot Bucchero ware), three juglets (two imported Base Rings, I and II?), an imported Cypriot lentoid flask, two pilgrim flasks and at least one cup-and-saucer. Small finds from Houses 100 included a small figurine of blue glaze, an alabaster jar, stopper and bowl sherd, part of a clay plaque figurine of a female with Hathor-styled hair holding two lotuses (Tufnell et al. 1940: XXVIII:6) and four scarabs. There were four pits in the vicinity of the Houses 100 area. Pits 128, 131 and 134 were small. Pit 128 had four vessels, three of which were Cypriot imports – one Cypriot bowl, one White Painted VI spouted jug, one jug, and one Base Ring I juglet. Pit 131 had only two vessels, a krater decorated with triglyphs but blank metopes and an imitation Base Ring II jug (ibid.: Pl. LI:284). Pit 134 was slightly larger with six vessels, three of which were bowls, two juglets (one imported Base Ring) and a lamp. In contrast to these small pits with high concentrations of imports, Pit 144 was the largest single deposit from all Fosse Temple phases and yielded types and forms attested in all temple phases. The assemblage is indicative of consumption, food preparation, storage, and some cultic activity. The pit had 84 vessels, 53 of which were bowls (63%), all local.74 The pit also contained three goblets, seven kraters (Krater 256 was bichrome, depicting a bird, ibex, and fish in different metopes), seven cooking pots, a baking tray, one storage jar, two small biconical amphorae (ibid.: Pl. LIV:342,343), five juglets, four lamps, a pilgrim flask and at least one cup-and-saucer. A spindle whorl and a forge bellows for metal working were also yielded. The major cluster of pits was to the east of the temple. Seventeen pits were found with various quantities of pottery and small finds. Starting at the north, Pit 135 was cut into the fosse and had six total vessels, three of which were bowls, one cooking pot, one lamp and one pierced lamp. Pits 136 and 140 were small deposits on the fosse wall. Pit 136 had two bowls and a scarab and cylinder seal executed in Mitannian style depicting a tree (ibid.: Pl. XXXIII:53), and Pit 140 was composed of three bowls.75 South of the fosse wall and just 73
Note that possible Temple II remains also come from the Houses 100 vicinity, which was too difficult to reconstruct with any accuracy for the excavators (Tufnell et al. 1940: 43). 74 The total is 91 if 7 unidentifiable sherds are added to the count. 75 Interesting to note, both pits had bowls types 2 and 51 (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pls. XXXVII:2, XXXVIII: 51), the similarity and close proximity suggesting they could have been formed as part of the same ritual or that post-depositional activity might have separated the finds that could have originally been buried together.
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east of Room A were four pits grouped together, three small and one, Pit 176, considerably larger. Pit 179 had one bowl and one krater, Pit 174 had one bowl and five beads, and Pit 161, which bordered Pit 176, had two bowls and one krater.76 Pit 176 had at least 27 total vessels with indications of consumption as well as signs of food preparation, cultic activity and additional deposition of objects of prestige and personal adornment. Fifteen vessels were bowls (56%), three of which were Cypriot imports and another had interior decoration which matched a bowl from Pit 135. The pit also had one goblet with tree decoration, five cooking pots, two juglets (one Base Ring II), two lamps, at least one cup-and-saucer and one miniature lentoid-shaped flask. The non-ceramic small finds from the pit were some of the riches from the site, including an ivory mask for inlay, an ivory spindle whorl, dozens of pieces of decorative ivory inlays possibly for a wooden box, a faience bowl fragment depicting lotuses, two alabaster jugs resembling Cypriot Base-ring ware, a silver pendant, three scarabs, three cylinder seals (two were executed in Mitannian style and feature quadrupeds surrounding a tree), 11 beads and an ostrich egg. To the east were three more pits at the northeast corner of the temple. These pits strongly indicate consumption, although on a limited scale. Pit 246 had 12 total vessel types, seven of which were bowls (58%), all local. The assemblage also had one goblet decorated with two figures – possibly two gazelles or a human – on the interior (ibid.: Pl. XLVI:216), two kraters (one connects to a krater sherd from Room E), one cooking pot and one lamp. Small finds include a faience Hathor pendant (ibid.: Pl. XXI:46), a faience lid, a scarab and a bead. Pit 177 contained two bowls and an ivory spindle whorl, and Pit 178 contained five bowls and 12 beads. Seven more pits were directly east of Room D. The pits indicate various activities, mainly consumption but also limited food preparation, storage, cultic activity and offerings of objects of prestige and personal adornment. Pit 175 had 11 total vessels. Eight were bowls (73%), three of which were Cypriot imports. The pit also had a juglet and two lamps. A large ivory hand was found in the pit as well, 2/3 life-size (ibid.: Pl. XVI:7). Pit 235 had seven total vessels, six bowls (86%) and one lamp. Pit 237 had a nearly identical composition, with seven total vessels, six bowls (86%) and one lamp. A metal wishbone-shaped implement was found as well. Pit 238 had nine total vessels, six of which were bowls (67%). The pit also had one krater, one juglet and one lamp. Pit 242 only had two vessels, one cooking pot and one storage jar as well as one scarab. Fragments of the same storage jar were found in Pit 211, from phase I, located beneath the floor of Temple II. Pit 243 had eight total vessels, four of which were bowls. In addition, the pit had fragments of a krater, one cooking pot, one baking tray and one lamp. These pits surrounded a much larger deposit, Pit 172. A total of 29 vessels were in the pit, 16 of which were bowls (55%). One was a Cypriot import. The pit also had two goblets (one bearing iconography of a gazelles straddling a pubic triangle, ibid.: Pl. XLVII:229), three kraters, one cooking pot, three jugs (one Base Ring II, one imported Mycenaean, and an inscribed ewer), one juglet, one lamp, at least one scoop and at least one cup-and-saucer. The pit also had many other objects including four incised bone objects, one of which was a cosmetic spoon lid, fragments of a faience juglet (connects with a juglet from Pit 199), a decorated faience bowl, a bronze pendant, three scarabs, 19 beads and a red ostrich egg. Two more pits were located south of the temple. Pit 188 had indications of consumption, cultic activity and some objects of prestige, with 13 total vessels, eight of which were bowls (62%). Two of those were Cypriot imports and another had a tree painted in the interior. The pit also had two kraters (one decorated with ibexes), one cultic stand, and two lamps. Small finds included two scarabs and four beads. Pit 201 only had fragments of a faience bowl depicting birds and lotuses. Another sherd of this vessel was found in Temple II’s Room F.
10.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns 10.2.1 Temple I The assemblage that was recovered from the Temple I interior was the smallest of the three temple phases. Still, it was rich in Cypriot, Mycenaean and Egyptian imports and contained necessary equipment for large amounts of consumption. The two large storage jars that furnished the center of the room indicate that longer term storage was possible in the temple. However, the smaller of the two storage jars was missing its base, possibly suggesting it served as a receptacle for receiving liquids or was used for drainage. The many animal 76
The large size of four-handled bowl 70 suggests it likely functioned more like a krater than a bowl.
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bones found in both jars might also indicate that the jars were used for collecting bones, amongst other offerings (Tufnell et al. 1940: 39). There is very limited evidence of food preparation, and the one baking tray found on the podium might indicate consumption of bread after which the tray was left behind and offered in the temple. The assemblage was quite different than the later phases in the relatively low percentage of bowls and lamps, the lack of cooking pots and the particularly high percentage of dipper juglets. There was also very limited evidence related to cultic activities, although the cultic stand and metal figurine clearly fall within this realm. It is possible that the vessels from the associated pits represent multiple episodes in the existence of the temple. Some of these, if not all, should be considered favissae containing vessels that originated in the temple and found their way to their final deposition in the pits. Each pit represents its own unique event, some of which witnessed the burial of many vessels and others which witnessed the burial of only a few. Others in fact might have been empty, suggesting that either buried vessels were later exhumed, or that pits were prepared that were not in the end used. In this light, it is possible to understand the differences of the assemblages in the pits and temple as a result of different types and scales of the activities that created them. The largest pits, such as Pits 211, 207 and 253, have vessels indicative of consumption, food preparation, storage, the use of prestige objects and objects for personal adornment, and limited cultic activity. These might be evidence of rituals that ended with the final deposition of the vessels used into favissae. All pits contained bowls, some exclusively. Further, the pit assemblages were nearly 10% cooking pots, demonstrating that food preparation was indeed a major activity that took place in or around the temple. This is in stark contrast to the lack of cooking ware from the temple interior. This pattern of cooking pots being located mainly in the pits outside of the temple continues into the later phases, although some cooking pots were yielded in the interiors of Temples II and III. Another major difference between the assemblages in the pits and the temple proper is the higher concentration of storage jars found in the pits, and in particular, in Pit 211. The lack of storage jars from inside the temple might be explained by their removal and placement into Pits 207, 211 and 258 prior to the termination of Temple I. Rooms A and B from this phase, both denuded of finds, might therefore have housed some of these storage jars. The small quantity of storage jars from this phase might also be a result of storage jars having been saved and reused in the following temples as well. The smaller pits from this phase could either represent partial assemblages or smaller scale rituals. Pit 256, for example, had evidence of consumption and objects for personal adornment, while Pit 156 had evidence of consumption as well as possible food preparation. Pits 212 and 255 had evidence of consumption – bowls were the only vessels recovered from these pits. These smaller pits could either be results of isolated activities by small groups of people or simply as refuse from the temple that was discarded in a cultically acceptable manner. Pit 212 in particular stands out: three mud-bricks were found sitting near the top of the pit. They can be explained in one of two ways: either they were set in place at the conclusion of a ceremony burying the five vessels beneath, or alternatively, they were laid down as part of a foundation deposit for the building of subsequent Temple II. Foundation deposits in the southern Levant have been attested, for example, with the phenomenon of lamp-and-bowl deposits in the LB (Bunimovitz and Zimhoni 1993). The notion of dedicatory bricks presented at the onset of constructing new temples is known from the ANE and more locally in LB Canaan under Egyptian influences at Aphek (Kochavi 1978; Giveon 1978; and Frankel and Kochavi 2000: 17; but see also Weinstein 1981: 19–20). Uninscribed, it is possible these bricks presented a more symbolic dedicatory function: the same building material – mud-brick – used to construct the expanded temple’s walls was first buried in a ceremony dedicated to the construction of the new cultic space. A similar phenomenon was noted in the favissa in Hazor’s Southern Temple, which was sealed by a large limestone stone (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 141, Photo 4.61). In a Neo-Assyrian context, there was immense symbolic importance to recovering the libittu maḫrītu (“first/former brick”) that had been used in a destroyed earlier temple. On a symbolic level, it was the intention of the king to establish a direct link between a previously constructed temple and the new temple which he was commissioning (Neumann 2014; cf. Ellis 1968 on foundation deposits). It is possible these mud-bricks were ceremonially buried in a pit dedicated to the construction of Temple II. As mentioned above, it has recently been suggested that two pits, Pits 207 and 258, predate the construction of Temple I and the other contemporary pits. The local contents resemble late MB traditions, and the Cypriot imports (White Slip I Ware, Black Lustrous Ware, and Bichrome vessels) were early LB I objects that were lacking from the other pits and Temple I’s assemblage that more resembled the LB IB (SingerAvitz 2004: 1026). Either these pits were earlier than the temple and indicate an LB settlement predating the
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temple, as suggested by Singer-Avitz, or there is an element of archaism in the vessels used in the temple. Zuckerman spoke of an aspect of “traditionalism” in the ceramic repertoire often noted in public feasts and cultic settings (Zuckerman 2007a: 188). There is often an archaism in the cultic vessels that is not generally reflected in more mundane assemblages. Older forms were retained as heirlooms. Within cultic settings, vessels symbolically were more conservative and traditional in order to form a basis for and relate contemporary practices to older traditions (Dietler 2001: 71). This conservatism is witnessed in pits such as Pit 144, where ceramic vessels from all temple phases were found together in one deposit. Either the pit was used and reused for hundreds of years, or vessels outlived their original use period and continued functioning within the cult, only to be deposited at a later date with other “later” vessels. The same might be true for Pits 207 and 258. The pit contents were originally temple paraphernalia that were removed from the temple at some point in time during the temple’s use. Thus, these chronologically earlier vessels can be understood as having been used simultaneously with the newer vessels of the temple. During Phase I, few objects indicative of cultic activity were recovered. It is clear that large amounts of consumption took place inside the temple, and that offerings of objects signifying prestige were presented on the raised podium. The wealth of imports signals the extent and significance of public display of prestige objects within the Lachish cult. The large quantity of animal bones indicates that animals were consumed, possibly after and in coordination with sacrificial rituals. The metal figurine of a male deity suggests that a male deity, possibly Reshef, was worshipped during Phase I (Fig. 10.5). A further anomaly is the comparatively high percentage of juglets from the temple, unmatched in the pits or in later temple phases. It is possible that there was a reorientation in temple activities between Temple I and Temple II. This shift was paralleled by the reorientation of the temple edifice and the appearance of rich iconography that became popular in Temples II and III, discussed below. The connection between a male deity and feasting is well known and has been thoroughly discussed (Lewis 1997). The connection between a male, the dozen juglets from the temple, and drinking activities in general is supported iconographically by a depiction on a decorated mug from Ugarit in which a standing male holds a juglet and is facing a seated male deity who is raising a cup (Yon 2006: Pl. 35). Thus, in addition to the consumption of animals, it is very likely that consumption of liquid beverages took place as well. 10.2.2 Temple II In Temple II, two of the exposed rooms were found with assemblages, and overall there was an increase in the quantity of vessels and objects recovered from the interior. The activity type most indicated by the assemblage was consumption. Within the temple itself, possible food preparation was indicated by the cooking pot, although the pot itself came from Room F while the hearth was located in the center of Room D. It is therefore possible that Room F served as storage for such vessels. Further, the hearth might not have been used for cooking, considering the only indication of its use was an inverted bowl found in its ash layer (Tufnell et al. 1940: 39). The quantity of prestige objects recovered from Temple II’s interior and pits was more extensive than in the previous phase, although not as substantial as Phase III. Ivory and faience objects first appeared in Phase II and continued to be attested in even greater numbers in Temple III. Further, cup-andsaucers first appeared during this phase. There was also an increase in lamps, a decrease in juglets and storage jars and the disappearance of astragali. In the temple interior, both rooms had comparable percentages of jugs and juglets. Room D had one goblet whereas Room F had a chalice. The major differences in the inventory were in the categories of kraters, cooking pots, cup-and-saucers and lamps. Two kraters were found in Room D compared to none in Room F, and one cooking pot was found in Room F compared to none in Room D. Whereas Room D had six lamps (16% of the room’s assemblage), only one was found in Room F. Room F also had the only two cup-andsaucers from Phase II. Overall, a less diverse group of imports were yielded from Temple II than from Temple I but still the assemblage was rich in Cypriot imports. Whereas Room D seems to have been a space for activities involving consumption and the deposition and offering of prestige objects, Room F might have been a space for storing vessels. Neither the cooking pot nor the cup-and-saucers were likely used in the room. The lack of storage jars in general and specifically in Room F suggests that long-term storage of food or liquids was not conducted. Thus, Room F would have been suitable for storing temple vessels that were either already used or were intended to be used in the larger Room D or for other activities outside of the
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temple. This should not discount the possibility, however, that Room F was a small space utilized for ancillary ritual activities. Regarding the pits, many different activity types were detected in the assemblages. Certain clusters of pits might have been related to various depositional activities. For example, Pits 141, 142 and 143 were in such close proximity to the nearby House 100 area that it is likely they were related to activities that took place in those structures. It is possible that these pits therefore served as refuse or favissae for the House 100 area. The seven pits to the east of Room D seem to have been directly related to Room F. These pits lacked goblets (with the exception of Pit 251), lamps (with the exception of Pit 238), kraters (excluding Pits 238 and 248) and had few examples of jugs, juglets, cooking pots and jars. Pits 244 and 248 both had cup-and-saucers and considering these were also attested in Room F but not Room D, one can hypothesize the movement of these vessels from Room F into the pits. If Room F had its own entrance along the east wall, this would have been the closest point of access to and from the temple toward these pits to the east. Looking closer at the assemblages from Room F and these pits, it appears even more likely that these pits were deposits from activities in Room F itself. Room F had no kraters or storage jars, and had one chalice, imported Base Ring ware, one cooking pot and one lamp, thus reflecting the content from the pits. In contrast to the pits from Temple I, most of these pits were not covered by later structures. The exception was the E II deposit which was dug into the soil directly south of Room D and to the east of Room F, under the later floor of Temple III’s Room E. The pits from Phase II appear in clusters, usually surrounding other structures: the large clusters east, southeast, and south of the temple, the numerous pits near the Houses 100 area, and the cluster near Building 150. They also had a range of sizes and types of assemblages. Most of the pits represent partial assemblages, sometimes only indicating consumption. Exceptions to this are Pit 247 and possibly Pit 210, both of which were located at the southeast corner of the temple. The assemblages in both pits exhibit activities related to consumption, food preparation and storage. Absent from those assemblages are vessels of specific cultic function such as cup-and-saucers or cultic stands, and there is a general lack of prestige objects. Pit 206 had almost every vessel type, only lacking storage jars. Some pits represent events with larger numbers of ritual participants. Pit 247 had 36 bowls suggesting that many individuals could have used those vessels prior to their burial. On the other hand, other pits represent smaller amounts of participants, such as Pit 249 with only eight bowls, or Pit 238 with only six bowls.77 Certain pits appear to have higher concentrations of vessels indicating wealth and prestige, including Pit 251 (the decorated goblet and krater likely forming a set), Pit 252 (included an imported Base Ring I bowl and Base Ring II jug), Pit 203 (composed solely of two imported Cypriot bowls), and Pit 205 (composed solely of a uniquely decorated bowl and a Base Ring II jug). Pit 141 might also be understood as such a deposit, composed of animal horns alongside three vessels, one of which was an imported Cypriot bowl. The deposit below the floor of Room E might have been a different type of favissa. It is possible it was a dedicatory deposit buried with temple objects with the intention to construct Room E above it. This phenomenon is known in Canaan and the greater ancient Near East. Yet, similar to the pits from Temple I, it is possible that the pit below Room E’s floor was dug without any initial intention to build above and only later did the notion arise of expanding the temple in that direction. Similar to Phase I, it appears that not all vessels were deposited into the pits as whole, unbroken vessels. For example, two connecting sherds of the same krater were found in two different pits, Pits 149 and 206 (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XLIX:260). These pits were not near one another. Thus, it is likely that the krater was broken prior to deposition. Similarly, sherds of two additional kraters were found in the deposit below Room E as well as in other pits (ibid.: XLIX:263,264). Fragments of one (ibid.: Pl. XLIX:263) were found in Pits 209 and 210, whereas fragments of the other (ibid.: Pl. XLIX:264) were found in Pit 209. Further, a goblet sherd from Room D connected to a sherd from Pit 210 (ibid.: Pl. XLVII:226), and another goblet sherd in the deposit below Room E had a connecting sherd in Phase III Pit 172 (ibid.: Pl. XLVII: 229). In light of this, Pits 209 and 210 as well as the deposit beneath Temple III’s Room E can be perceived as sacred deposits for vessels that broke in the temple itself and were removed for ritual burial near the temple. Connecting pieces between two different pits can be difficult to explain, though, such as the krater from Pits 149 and 206.
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It is even possible to see in these pits activities specifically related to the consumption of food versus liquids: Pit 249 was found with a cooking pot, whereas Pit 238 with a krater and associated juglet. Therefore, it is possible to suggest food and liquids, respectively, were being consumed using the bowls in those pits.
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Were the krater sherds buried in the respective pits at the same time after the vessel broke or were these parts of separate events? It is possible that there was an interim period and location where out-of-use vessels were stored between the use of the vessel and breaking of the vessel, on the one hand, and the final burial of the vessel, on the other. Vessels of various types could have been gathered together at a specific location for a short (or longer) period before their final burial. Thus, sherds of the same krater could become mixed with other refuse en route to their final deposition and thus the resultant picture, their appearance in different pits. Still, if the pits truly were representative of a single event – which would include the opening of, depositing into, and refilling of the pit – the sherd from Pit 172 and the deposit beneath the floor of Room E is problematic. Pit 172 has indicative sherds from Phase III, but the floor deposit predates the phase. Either the pit and floor deposit were from different periods and the sherds remained accessible for long enough to allow for the passage of time between the end of Phase II to Phase III of the temple (i.e. accumulating in some collected medial area), or the pit and floor deposit were contemporary (either Pit 172 was earlier, it is stratified, or the floor deposit is later than the dating attributed by the excavators). This issue unfortunately cannot be resolved, and this difficulty in understanding and defining the pits, their boundaries and contents, and the multiple uses and reuses of the pits was already noted by the excavators (Tufnell et al. 1940: 43–45). 10.2.3 Temple III Temple III’s assemblages, like in the previous temples, indicate large amounts of consumption with more limited amounts of food preparation and storage. The quantity of vessels increased overall and this phase also had the largest amounts of prestige objects and vessels related to cultic activities (cultic vessels possibly represented over 20% of the temple interior’s assemblage). Some of these observations might be the result of the destruction preserving many of the vessels after their final use, whereas other observations, such as the increase in number of cup-and-saucers, might be due to either chronological factors (i.e., these vessels did not appear until Phase II of the temple) or the reuse of these special vessels from Temple II to Temple III. The number of ceramic imports in Temple III is significantly less than in the previous phases and included only three Cypriot bowls, two Base Ring II jugs and a Base Ring juglet. Room D was clearly the focal point for activities. It had the most vessels and the most complete and intact assemblage, accounting for every vessel type excluding juglets. Based on the pottery, large amounts of consumption were possible, as well as limited food preparation. Most storage and food preparation activities were likely conducted in other spaces such as in the side rooms or outside the temple. The hearth, and cooking pot, might indicate cooking was conducted inside Room D as well. The large vat on the east side of the altar would have provided storage, although the vessel itself was likely neither easily sealable nor transportable. Room A was also well equipped with vessels for consumption, with many bowls and a high concentration of goblets (15%). The cooking pots were likely being stored, not used, in Room A since there were no cooking installations in the room. Storage jars were also lacking. The other objects from the room signify some prestige with limited evidence of objects for personal adornment. Thus, Room A was a space for consumption, possible storage of other temple paraphernalia, and for placing small votive offerings. If this room was the temple’s entrance, it could be perceived as a liminal zone, functioning as a space for initial activities and social interactions upon entering the interior space of the temple. The similarity between the vessels in Rooms A and D further suggests that Room A might have served as storage for vessels to be brought into Room D during ceremonies and potentially for vessels post usage. Room E had evidence of consumption, possible food preparation, some storage, vessels associated with cultic activity (scoops), and a large deposit of other objects associated with prestige, personal adornment, and cult. There was a particularly high percentage of cooking pots (14%) although no hearth or oven was found. It is therefore possible that the cooking pots were being stored in Room E. Room F had the smallest assemblage and reflects consumption, possible food preparation (although there were no cooking installations) and evidence of vessels relate to cultic activity (scoops). Thus, like in the other side rooms, it is possible that along with consumption and cultic activities, the rooms could have served as storage space for vessels used in larger ceremonies in the main Room D. The special finds from the altar indicate it was the focal point of ritual activity, representing the single largest concentration of votive offerings at the site. The deposit of beads and pendants from Room E was also rich in objects associated with prestige and possibly with cultic activity as well. However, missing from
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these deposits were precious metal objects such as figurines, vessels and weapons. In fact, the crudely-executed clay figurine yielded from the raised platform has more of the appearance of a child’s toy than a cult object, contrasting from the site’s earlier metal figurines (Fig. 10.6). Considering the evidence from other temples, it is unlikely that figurines were not part of the paraphernalia used in Temple III. Likewise, it is unlikely that the pin from Deposit 181 was the only metal object that was used or placed on the platform during ritual activities in Room D. It is possible that when the temple was destroyed, the most precious of cult objects that had not already been ritually buried in pits were either robbed by invaders or were removed by cultic personnel. In fact, some of these objects and vessels could have been taken to the subsequent Stratum VI Acropolis Temple on the tell or the newly discovered Stratum VI temple near the city wall (cf. Section 4.8.1). The latter yielded a rich assemblage including two metal figurines, gold and silver objects including a pear-shaped silver pendant depicting a naked goddess, and three clay plaque figurines (Weissbein et al. 2016; Weissbein, personal communication, 2016). Thus, the objects from Deposit 181 were all that remained of a much richer array of votive offerings. The metal pin and clay figurine were left behind because they were not perceived as being objects of value. Similarly, the ivories that remained were probably but a small part of a much larger collection. The area referred to as Houses 100 had a heavy concentration of imports, vessels bearing iconography and objects related to cultic activity (cup-and-saucer, clay plaque figurine). The assemblage indicates the area was integral to the greater temple complex. Activities included consumption, food preparation, storage and additional activities related to the deposition of votive offerings (the plaque figurine) and other objects of prestige (e.g. imports, scarabs). The analysis of the pits from Temple III presents an interesting picture. Two main clusters of pits exist – one around the Houses 100 area, and another mainly east of the temple. Houses 100 and most surrounding pits had a particularly high percentage of Cypriot imports (excluding Pit 144). The activities in this area consisted of drinking, eating and food preparation with limited evidence of storage. The cup-and-saucers were rare examples of the vessel type from outside the temple. The small quantity of small finds indicates the Houses 100 area was not the main area of cultic activity. However, the plaque figurine was the only object depicting a naked female from the site, suggesting that some form of female deity worship took place on the premises. Interestingly, this was found outside of the temple itself. The cluster of pits around the temple had very few Cypriot imports. Most pits were small, representing partial assemblages or small votive offerings. In contrast to the pits around Houses 100, these pits had many more small finds and indicate either a closer relationship to the activities inside the temple or to activities outside the temple that ended with multiple depositions of prestige objects. A number of different types of pits in Phase III were evident: large pits with many types of vessels and activities, smaller pits with evidence of a more limited array of activities, and small pits with deposits that appear to have been created for vessels of prestige and votive offerings. The largest pits demonstrate all types of activities, including consumption and often activities within the realm of cult (cups-and-saucers, scoops, stands). Pit 144 was a massive favissa that served as a repository for vessels from all three phases. Either the pit represents multiple episodes of deposition and is stratified or the pit represents one massive disposal of cult equipment, taking place toward the end of the temple’s life. If the latter is the case, a great deal of traditionalism was at play accounting for the appearance of more antiquated forms aside newer forms. Interestingly, Pit 144 lacked imports contrasting from the other nearby pits. Further, the pit’s small finds do not represent prestige objects or votive offerings. Pit 144 therefore appears to have been used as a disposal of sacred ceramics that went out of use. Pits 172 and 176 had very large assemblages composed of dozens of bowls, most vessel types, with the addition of some cultic vessels, and some of the largest accumulations of prestige objects outside of the temple itself. Absent from these large pits were imports, which were more frequent in earlier pits and in smaller contemporary pits. Pit 176 had the highest concentration of cooking pots (19%); it is possible that the area between the fosse wall and the temple was a repository for cooking pots, but the assemblages indicate other activities as well. In any case, the pits represent the deposition, not the locations of use, of these cooking vessels. A number of the smaller pits such as Pits 246, 243, 175 and 237 had indications of consumption. Pits 175 and 237 lacked vessels for serving or food preparation. They might be the result of ritual participants depositing bowls used during feasts elsewhere at the site. Pit 175 in particular had a high percentage of imports and had an ivory hand that could have been part of a much larger composite cult statue. Certain pits contained only a few bowls, such as Pits 177, 178 and 136, which were also interspersed with small quantities of other
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finds such as prestige objects. Two more pits appear to be prestige deposits: Pit 128 in its entirety was composed of four Cypriot imports and Pit 131 was composed of an imported jug and a decorated krater. These deposits appear to be the result of the intentional deposition of imported and decorated vessels. It is possible these vessels first were used in a ceremony and then later deposited. Their final deposition apart from larger assemblages, though, marks them as unique. As in the previous phases, not all vessels were complete when deposited in pits. For example, connecting pieces of one krater were found in both Room D and Pit 172 (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XLVIII:249), connecting pieces of a second krater were found in Room E and Pit 246 (ibid.: Pl. XLVIII:251), connecting pieces of a third krater were found in Room F and Pit 243 (ibid.: Pl. XLVIII:247), pieces of the same pilgrim flask were found in Room A and Pit 144 (ibid.: Pl. LIV:349), fragments of the same jar were found in Pit 242 and in Phase I Pit 211 (ibid.: Pl. LVII:388), and fragments of a faience juglet were found in Pit 172 and Pit 199 from Phase II (ibid.: Pl. XXIII:60). Thus, certain pits may have served as repositories for the temple’s sacred assemblage and when temple vessels broke, they were tossed into these nearby pits. Since different pits sometimes contained fragments of the same vessel, it is possible that multiple pits were used contemporaneously in an effort to remove broken vessels from the temple. These pits could have been used for other purposes as well, such as the deposition of cult vessels after their use in a ceremony or as precautionary hoards attempting to preserve the vessels for later use, possibly facing uncertain times such as an impending attack. It is also possible that vessels were moved multiple times after their final use or breakage before their final deposition, hence parts of a vessel found in Phase I could connect to sherds from a later Phase III pit.
10.3 The Idiosyncratic Practice of Cult at the Fosse Temple 10.3.1 Long-term Trends and Diachronic Changes in the Use of Space Overall, 83% of the ceramic vessels from the Fosse Temple were bowls. This number fluctuates, however, from phase to phase, from room to room, and from pit to pit. The most prominently featured activity type from all phases of the temple was consumption, indeed in quantities unparalleled by any other site. All other activities are therefore overshadowed and skewed due to the overwhelmingly high percentages of bowls. Still, it is clear that both food preparation and storage were conducted at the site, and although the percentages remain small, the total number of cooking pots and storage jars recovered from the temple and its pits is greater than most other temples. In addition, cultic activities involving presenting votive offerings of objects of all different types of materials and values were clearly indicated. In general, there was an increase in the use of cultic vessels and prestige objects over time, culminating in the highest quantity recovered from Phase III of the temple. An activity not equaled in frequency at any other site in the southern Levant was the burial and deposition of temple vessels in favissae outside of the temple. There are three general trends witnessed in the overall ceramic analysis. First, certain vessels such as bowls, kraters, and jugs show consistent quantities throughout all three temple phases. There is a general decrease in overall assemblage percentage, expected from the increase in total bowls from Phase I to Phase III of the temple. A second trend shows an increase in the quantity and percentage of vessel types from earlier to later temple phases, such as goblets, chalices, lamps, cooking pots and cultic vessels such as scoops and cup-and-saucers. This could be attributed to an increase in cultic activity at the temple, to an increase in the use of these vessels, to the appearance of new forms arising later in the LB, to reformations or the introduction of new temple rituals or to the reuse of earlier vessels in later temple phases. A third trend is the decrease in quantity of juglets and jars, indicating a possible shift in activities at the temple. It is possible, however, that the functional aspects of juglets, such as drinking, pouring, and transferring liquids, were simply replaced by other vessels without significantly altering temple rituals. The decrease in storage jars is quite anomalous. The overall low percentage of storage jars indicates a limited amount of long-term storage space and suggests that most foodstuffs that were prepared, served and consumed at the temple were brought from outside the temple complex. This might accord with the observation that very few cooking pots were recovered from the temple interior. It is possible that cooking was performed outside, either in the open-air space surrounding the temple or somewhere further afield. Thus, most of the cooking pots that were recovered from the site were from the pits, not because they were removed from the temple but because they were never brought into the temple in the first place. The relatively larger quantity and higher percentage of storage jars from Temple I might indicate earlier traditions of food storage at the temple, on the one hand, or might parallel another phenomenon noticed in cooking pot sizes. The cooking pots from
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Temple I were extremely large, contrasting from much smaller cooking vessels from Temples II and III. It is possible that the larger cooking pots of Temple I, which were used to prepare larger quantities of food for large groups of people, required more onsite food storage in order to accommodate the larger portions of the early cooking pots. There was also an increase over time of vessels related to ritual, with all scoops coming from Temple III and the cup-and-saucers from Temples II and III, the majority of which came from Temple III. These undoubtedly reflect changes in cultic practices. Their absence in the earlier assemblages might be due to a constant reuse of cultic vessels from the earliest temple into the later temples or to a chronologically late introduction of these vessels into Canaan in general. On the other hand, cultic stands were attested in all three phases. From the contextual and behavioral analyses of Temple I, three unique features stand out regarding the small finds: no ivory objects were yielded in contrast to the later temples; the only metal Syrian-styled male figurine was retrieved from this phase; and a large deposit of astragali were recovered, the only ones from the site. The lack of ivory objects might indicate that ivories from the earliest temple were reused in the later phases. Alternatively, ivories might not yet have been introduced into Canaan during Fosse Temple I. The figurine was unique at the Fosse Temple, although not in LB Canaan (cf. Section 17.5.2). In fact, two bronze figurines were also recovered from the newly excavated Stratum VI temple. The iconography of the associated scarab bears a similar image of a male in a striking pose. The astragali likely related to divination or gaming (Gilmour 1997; Zuckerman 2007a: 195). The fact that they only appear in Temple I indicates that a unique ritual, possibly involving divination, was performed at the Fosse Temple during this phase. This accompanied feasting and other promulgations of luxury and wealth. Temple II showed significant continuation in most temple rituals, vessel types, forms of small finds, and usage of pits. Yet, a shift in activities can be seen in at least four different ways. The decrease in juglets suggests they were less essential or pertinent to Temple II activities. The appearance of cup-and-saucers and chalices suggests the introduction of new cultic activities. The first ivory objects were recovered from this phase, either evidence of the earliest appearance of ivories at Lachish or as remnants of a more substantial collection of ivories that was mainly reused during Temple III. There was also an introduction of new iconography on goblets and kraters, that of ibexes, sacred trees and the pubic triangle. This continued into Phase III as well (Fig. 10.7). This iconography is often associated with fertility and female deities and was very common in LB Canaan. Additionally, the spindle whorl yielded from Temple II might have been a votive offering, one that was associated with a gendered activity conducted largely by women in antiquity. These iconographic traditions were completely absent from Temple I and thus might signify a shift in ritual activities, the deity or deities being worshipped, or the types of worshippers at the temple. These iconographic traditions were also attested in domestic, burial and palatial contexts. Thus, they were not localized to cultic settings but rather reflect more widespread regional trends at large. The contextual and behavioral analyses of Temple III demonstrated that Room D was undoubtedly the center of cultic activity. The Room D assemblage attests to immense amounts of consumption with the capacity for many individuals to have participated, while food preparation and long-term storage, again, were not the main focus of the activities in the room. There was a decrease in imports in Temple III which might be a reflection of a decline in prestige, of more concerted control over the use of local forms, or of a general reflection of a period when imports started to become less frequent in the later LB IIB. A decline in prestige objects at the temple does not in fact appear to be the case, considering the wealth of votive offerings found around the room and specifically on the altar. In a significant shift from earlier temple phases, only one juglet, an import, was found in Temple III in Room E. Thus, juglets were no longer in use nor were they stored in the temple as in the earlier phases. While Room A seems to have been the temple entrance and served as a multifunctional liminal zone and space for performing different activities, Rooms E and F seem to have been spaces for limited consumption, the placement of votive offerings, and for storage of temple vessels. These rooms indicate that there was constant movement into and out of Room D from these smaller side rooms, and that activities in the side rooms were directly related to those in the main room. This reconstruction of Fosse Temple III enables archaeologists to envision actual movement of ritual actors within the cultic space from one room to the next. Vessels for various activities found distributed throughout the multiple rooms, many of them bowls and many sharing nearly identical forms, suggest that large numbers of individuals used the temple (albeit, not necessarily at the same time). However, this move-
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ment of vessels and the vessel types was closely managed by temple personnel. The contemporary pottery workshop in Cave 4034 was found packed with burnt pottery, slag, unbaked sherds and unfinished trial pieces and had cup-and-saucers, scoops, a ceramic stand, female figurine moulds and many vessels, all resembling the temple assemblage (Tufnell 1958: 291–293; Pls. 8, 49, 92). The direct connection between the ceramic workshop and the temple attests to an overarching organizational control of temple vessels via nearby pottery production. Additionally, more symbolic aspects of Temple III’s material culture bear important implications for the cultic orientation of the Fosse Temple. The ivory and bone objects represent one of the finest accumulations of prestige objects in LB Canaan. The rich collection of ivories, although not necessarily related to specific cultic activities, demonstrates the wealth invested in the temple goods. While cosmetic spoons and covers, zoomorphic and anthropomorphic heads and other ivory fragments were intended for inlay and adornment, the scepters, the large scoop made from a tusk and the hand and eye might be more directly related to cultic activities. The latter two items might have even formed part of a large composite cult statue, known textually from Amarna period letters (e.g. EA 27:33, 26:41; Lewis 2005: 83–87). The scoop might be the one object that can be positively identified with incense burning, as flames arising from identical scoops being held in front of deities and pharaohs are well attested in Egyptian depictions (e.g. at Abydos, Calverley et al. 1933: Pls. 4,6,7,10,11; Wise 2009: Figs. 1–3). The scarabs and cylinder seals fall within the general traditions at contemporary LB sites. The high concentration of scarabs, however, attests to the perception that the temple was understood as a place worthy of offering such objects. The clay plaque figurine found in Houses 100 has parallels in contemporary cave burials at the site (e.g. Tufnell 1958: Pls. 47, 49) and in the southern Levant as well. These plaques were associated with a variety of female deities within the realm of fertility goddess or protective female deity. Further, the iconographic shift that occurred in Temple II toward the use of naturalistic motifs such as ibexes, birds, trees and fish carried into Phase III and appeared on goblets, kraters, a biconical jug, a bowl interior and in one case, a ewer. This iconography was well situated within a milieu of female deity worship. The ewer, specifically, not only bears images of trees, ibexes, a possible lion and fallow deer, but also has one of the earliest inscriptions written in Canaanite script (Figs. 10.7:6, 10.8). Cross reconstructed the short inscription to read “Mattan, an offering to my Lady ’Elat,” a reading which offers insight into the identity of the recipient of votive offerings at the site (Cross 1967; Hestrin 1987). The word ’Elat appears directly above the tree, possibly connecting the two and suggesting ’Elat was the name of the goddess represented by the divine tree. Alternatively, ’Elat could also be a generic term, the feminine form of Semitic ’El or Ilu, the common noun for the word “god.” Either reading allows for the interpretation that a female deity was worshipped at Lachish’s Fosse Temple. Thus, there seems to be evidence for the worship of a female deity in Temple III. Male deity worship, possibly attested in Temple I, is not apparent in any manner in Temples II or III. This analysis has also shed light on the use and various functions of the temple pits. These favissae were not rubbish pits showing signs of a “general degradation of the temple’s management” toward the end of Temple III, as suggested by the excavators (Tufnell et al. 1940: 44). The pits did not demonstrate a degradation and lack of concern for temple vessels; to the contrary, they were preserving at all expenses the sacredness of vessels and cult objects that had been used, broken, or offered at the temple during larger public ceremonies as well as smaller more restricted rituals. Thus, cult objects in the pits were buried because of, not in spite of, their special value. 10.3.2 Assessing Previous Interpretations: How this Study Compares The Fosse Temple was originally interpreted as a shrine dedicated to native Syrian deities, such as Reshef and possibly ’Elat, and that it was surrounded by refuse pits (Tufnell et al. 1940: 19, 25). The rituals performed were offerings of flesh, cakes, libations and incense (ibid.). The Egyptian influences and imports were suggested as reflective of the time, but not as an influence on the local religion. Further, the establishment of the temple off the mound was indicative of a period of general security (ibid.: 21). Since then, Bietak has considered the Egyptian influences, the ceramic repertoire, the architecture and the location of the temple near burials as evidence of possible cult of the dead. In fact, he suggests defining the Fosse Temple as a bet marzeah (Bietak 2002). The diversity and wealth of imported wares from the nearby burials strongly resemble those from the Fosse Temple (Gonen 1992b). Thus, it is possible that the temple was a
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gathering space for rituals related to the dead, although other explanations for the location have been posited as well (Finkelstein 1988: 343). Koch most recently suggested that the Egyptian influences reflect an integration of the cult of Hathor into the local scene (Koch 2017). In contrast to the previous studies, my analysis has identified the activities that were conducted within the Fosse Temple, not solely object types or architecture. To various degrees, each of these interpretations appears to be valid, although Finkelstein’s pastoral explanation seems the least likely of the opinions presented above. On the basis of this study’s analysis, cult at the Fosse Temple revolved around two main activity types: consumption and the presentation of votive offerings. These were indicated by the high percentage of bowls and the wealth of prestige objects made of various materials distributed throughout the temples and surrounding pits. This could therefore accord with a setting as suggested by Bietak: a bet marzeah certainly included large amounts of consumption. A further activity, in fact the most visible and frequent, was the deposition of vessels in pits. Undoubtedly, these events were considered ritualistic and were likely conducted as ceremonial burials of cultically-charged temple paraphernalia. It is therefore possible that the multiple pits signify multiple events or ceremonies connected to ritual related to the surrounding burials. Although the temple was rich in special objects and iconography, the majority of the assemblages indicate human consumption. Adding to this, cultic activities utilizing cup-and-saucers, scoops and cultic stands might have involved the use of aromatic oils, the burning of incense, the placement of offerings or the pouring of water or some other liquid during purificatory ablution rituals or as libations. Again, the appearance of chalices in Phase II might indicate activities other than consumption as they first appear when the proportion of other cultic vessels began to increase as well. Beyond the local ceramic assemblage, elements of wealth, prestige and status are represented by imported pottery and the other objects and small finds from the temple complex. This observation in itself should not necessarily be taken as specifically due to the cultic setting, as LB imports were common at many non-cultic locations as well and many of the nearby burials at the site were saturated with imports. The rich collection of ivories also reflects the prestige of the objects from the temple. Furthermore, the faience, alabaster and glass vessels related to prestige or activities associated with personal adornment – whether for the temple personnel or for the ritual actors who presented these objects as votive offerings. The collection of metal objects such as pendants, rings, earrings, and toggle pins further attests to adornment and in some cases, the pendants with depictions of faces and eight-pointed stars might reflect cultic notions as well, such as the possible association between the stars and Ištar. Certain metal objects such as the bronze figurine from Temple I could have been directly related to cultic activities, possibly reflecting the identity of the god worshipped at the temple, Reshef. Ceramic finds such as the zoomorphic figurine, the crude anthropomorphic figurine and the clay plaque figurine could have been related to the cultic activities as well. However, these objects are often also found in domestic contexts. In contrast to the earlier metal figurine, the iconography and inscription of the later temples reflects a female deity, either local (’Elat), foreign (Hathor), or some combination of the two. Additionally, the scarabs and cylinder seals could be perceived as either administrative in function or as prestigious votive offerings. The many beads and pendants further attest to objects related to personal adornment, whether specifically for cultic personnel, by outsiders, or for adorning cult objects such as a statue. This close look at the material phase by phase presented above has given a more detailed picture of the cultic activities that were performed throughout the life of the Fosse Temple. The temples and their associated pits should not solely be considered as one assemblage, but rather, as multiple assemblages and multiple episodes or moments in time when past cultic activities led to a wide variety and distribution of assemblages. Thus, the overall picture from the Lachish Fosse Temple is one that demonstrates many traceable trends and diachronic changes over time with a wide range of different activity types conducted in different types of spaces.
Chapter 11 Tel Mevorakh The architecture of Tel Mevorakh’s LB temple sequence was discussed in Section 4.8.3. Two of the three temple phases were found with vessels, in situ. Strata XI and X had varying degrees of remains, while Stratum IX was completely denuded of finds. This analysis is based on the data provided in the site’s publication on the LB temple sequence (Stern 1984: 4–44, Figs. 1–10, 22–24).78 Refer to Tables XI–XIII and Fig. 11.1.
11.1 Contextual Analysis 11.1.1 Stratum XI Temple The Stratum XI temple was the best preserved due to the accumulation of debris that covered the destroyed temple (Fig. 4.51). The builders of the following Stratum X temple preserved the debris buildup, leaving a half-meter of fill in place and applying a new stone-paved floor above the earlier remains. Many objects were preserved in situ, found either on or close to the floor of the temple. Seventy-two complete and fragmentary vessels were recovered from the temple (Table XII).79 Forty-seven were bowls (65%), 25 of which were Cypriot imports. Four goblets, five chalices, three cooking pots, two storage jars, two jugs, ten juglets and one lamp were also found in this stratum. Few small finds were recovered and include 17 beads and an arrowhead (Stern 1984: Figs. 3–4).80 The distribution of vessels shows a heavy concentration on the northwest podium, the stairs or steppedshelves leading up to the podium, and on the lower platform and associated raised rectangular pedestals directly south of and connected to the northwest podium (Fig. 4.52). Other vessels were concentrated in the northeast corner opposite the temple entrance. These latter vessels were recovered mainly clustered on the floor leading up to the two-tiered benches that line the east and north walls, although a few vessels were recovered from these benches as well. Of the 75 total vessels from this stratum, 38 were found on or directly next to the northwestern podium complex (51%). This cluster was composed largely of bowls (68%), half of which were Cypriot imports. Seven of the temple’s ten juglets were found on the lower platform south of the raised podium. A jar was found sunk into the lower platform near two of the temple’s three cooking pots. Two goblets were recovered from the stepped-shelves on the east side of the raised podium as well. The goblets were both decorated with red and black geometric patterns, one with crisscross, checkerboard and wavy line designs and the other resembling Bichrome decorations (Stern 1984: Fig. 7:1,2). The only lamp from this stratum was yielded from the lower platform. Other objects from this stratum include a bronze arrowhead that came from the foot of the stepped-shelves (ibid.: Fig. 3:8) and 17 beads that were found on the low platform (Loci 201 and 204) and nearby in Locus 200B. The concentration of vessels and small finds, the raised floor and the benches mark this back corner as the focal point of cultic activity. Twenty more vessels were found on the north end of the temple opposite the entrance: 14 bowls (11 Cypriot), four chalices (one was placed on a bench), a decorated goblet and a cooking pot. One of the chalices (Fig. 11.2) has a well-decorated interior depicting four animals, two of which are predatory beasts of prey attacking a third animal, either an ibex or gazelle. The fourth quadruped was much smaller than the other animals and appears to not be part of the larger attack scene. The goblet (Fig. 11.2) is decorated in Bichrome style. The metopes are filled with animal motifs, two of which are clear: a fish in one and an ibex in a second. The third metope is missing. Thus, the main activity detected in this northern section of the temple was consumption. This is indicated by the high concentration of bowls (70%). Including the goblet and chalices, possibly 95% of the vessels indicate consumption. Most of the bowls were imported, an indication of prestige. This was further reinforced by the decorated goblet and chalice. It is also clear that the benches were used for placing vessels. The two Cypriot bowls were either votive offerings or were placed on the benches after 78
Since the final report did not include a locus list, the find spots of certain items, mainly Cypriot imports, were not reconstructable because a few of the locus numbers listed in the ceramic tables do not appear in the volume’s plans (Stern 1984: Fig. 23,24). 79 This total is based on the vessels that were traceable back to loci on the plans. Some of the Cypriot imports from Figs. 9–10 could not be contextualized because their assigned locus numbers do not appear on the temple plans. Two jar lids and an incised jar handle were also not included in the count. 80 Figures 3 and 4 appear mislabeled as the text discusses small finds from Stratum XI as well.
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being used for consumption. The single cooking pot indicates food preparation, but the lack of ash, oven or hearth suggests that the pot was not actually used in the temple. Rather, food was likely cooked elsewhere and then brought into the temple in the pot. This might account for the cooking pots found on the platform as well. Other vessels were recovered from the room, although not concentrated in any particular area. Another important element of the temple is a possible favissa that was cut into the floor in Locus 256 (Stern 1984: Figs. 24, 25, Pl. 9:3). It was found empty, however, so it is unclear how the pit was actually used or what, if any, types of vessels and objects were placed inside. Stratigraphically, the pit was dug into the floor of Temple XI after the initial construction, but prior to the construction of the Stratum X temple. 11.1.2 Stratum X Temple Much of the temple architecture and assemblage from Stratum X were not preserved. However, the northwest portion was preserved which contained a newly constructed area above the earlier podium and many vessels and objects found on and around it (Fig. 4.53). This area, composed of Loci 184, 195, 196 and 248, had the highest concentration of vessels and objects from the temple (Table XIII). Fifty-seven ceramic vessels were recovered from this stratum, 28 of which were bowls (49%), including 11 Cypriot imports (Table XI).81 There were also three goblets, five chalices, three kraters, two cooking pots, two storage jars, one pithos, five jugs, one Cypriot tankard, three juglets (two were Base Ring juglets), three lamps and one miniature bowl. A clay crucible with bronze remains still intact was recovered as well as other crucible sherds with copper slag. In addition, a miniature calcite bowl and a three-legged limestone mortar were yielded (Stern 1984: Figs. 2:16, 4:22,41). Other finds include bronze objects recovered from the raised platform (a snake figurine, a pair of cymbals, an earring, a knife, a dagger and an arrowhead) in addition to a bronze pendant with an eight-pointed star recovered from Locus 194 in the temple courtyard (ibid.: Fig. 3). The clay crucible mentioned above was recovered near the star pendant. In addition to these bronze objects, there were two faience Mitannian-style cylinder seals, two undecorated discoid-shaped glass pendants having been cast in moulds, three conical game pieces made of faience (ibid.: Fig. 4:1–4,19–21) and 14 beads made from different materials (found in Locus 185).82 Although the distribution of objects in the temple might be skewed due to the poor remains of the east and south parts of the building, the focal point of activity seems to have been in the northwest corner. Specifically, a deposit of objects was left in Locus 184 in which a concentration of vessels in a circular shape is noticeable along the southeast corner of the podium (see Stern 1984: Fig. III). The podium deposit was a composite of objects related to consumption (3 bowls, all Cypriot imports, 2 goblets, 2 chalices),83 prestige and cultic activities (a miniature vessel, snake figurine, earring, dagger, arrowhead, two glass pendants, two cylinder seals, six beads and two game pieces).84 These objects were purposefully placed on the podium, either as part of a ceremony that was conducted prior to the temple’s destruction or as an offering or group of offerings that was presented and placed on the platform. The bowls from the deposit were all imports and thus serve as indicators of prestige, as do the other objects that were recovered from the deposit. The other main locations of activity were directly to the south and east of the podium, including Loci 193, 196 and 248, a small assemblage on the east side of the temple opposite the entrance (Locus 275), and the courtyard outside of the temple. The assemblage from Locus 193 on the podium’s south side included five bowls (two Cypriot imports), a juglet, a lamp, an imported Cypriot tankard, and a game piece and bead. The game piece likely formed part of a set with the two game pieces from the nearby podium deposit suggesting some or all of these vessels might initially have been a part of the deposit. The assemblage indicates consumption, possibly as part of a small ceremony which involved drinking and displaying status symbols and then leaving behind the objects as votive offerings at the temple. The juglet, the sole example from Stratum X, was recovered directly above the deposit of seven juglets from the previous stratum and indicates that a 81
Six of these bowls might have been chalices (see Stern 1984: Fig. 1: 8,9,13,24,25,26) Glass pendants, rare in the southern Levant (cf. Megiddo, Beth Shean), might have been prestige imports from Mitanni (cf. Barag 1984: 26) 83 Note that there is possibly another chalice or bowl, but it is unclear since the base is missing, Stern 1984: Fig. 1:25. 84 The information presented here is deduced from a combination of Figure III (plan and list of finds from Stratum X platform) and in the text and Figs. 1–4 and 9 (Stern 1984: Figs. III, 1–4, 9). 82
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similar ritual conducted on the southern side of the raised podium was a continuation from the previous temple phase, although on a more limited scale. Locus 196 was a small semi-circular stone-lined pocket that had two bowls (one imported), a chalice, an imported juglet (Base Ring I), a storage jar and a krater. This might have been a location for presenting and storing offerings or for pouring substances into the storage jar; given the proximity to the podium itself, this would not have been the main focal point for presenting offerings but rather a location second to that of the podium itself. To the north, Locus 248 was located above the previous stratum’s benches and had an inventory which included four bowls (two imported), a goblet, sherds from two possible chalices, a pair of cymbals and a knife.85 Again, this small assemblage lacking food preparation or storage capabilities indicates this was a locus for presenting offerings or for placing vessels after the consumption of food or drink. The cymbals could be understood as sound-inducing objects that would have accompanied some ritual activity. Whatever the case, the pair of cymbals offers a unique insight into the possibility of an auditory aspect to the rituals performed at Tel Mevorakh. A further space of activity was in northwest Locus 275 which was composed of two imported Cypriot bowls, a jug, a storage jar and a pithos. The jar and pithos indicate that the area could have been used for storage, possibly in addition to other activities which resulted in the nearby jug and bowls. An additional storage area was located to the southwest of the podium area in the newly constructed room. There, a stonelined silo was uncovered in Locus 169. The full use of the room and its overall relationship to the main hall of the temple is not well understood as the room was not excavated in its entirety and few objects were recovered, although a bowl or possible goblet (Stern 1984: Fig. 1:16) was found in the silo suggesting other activities besides storage took place as well. Due to limited exposure beyond the temple edifice, not much is known about the courtyard activities. One identifiable area of activity in the courtyard was to the west. In Locus 194, crucibles with copper and bronze residue suggest that the temple had its own metal industry, possibly for producing some of the metal objects found at the site itself. A star pendant found in the same locus could therefore be a product of the local industry.
11.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns 11.2.1 Consumption, Votive Offerings, and Movement Through Space It is clear that the main activity type that can be reconstructed in Stratum XI is consumption, either of foodstuffs or liquids. The majority of the vessels was bowls and signifies individuals coming to the site either to partake in ritual ceremonies involving consumption or to leave votive offerings. It is possible that food prepared elsewhere (as indicated by the cooking pots) was brought into and consumed in the temple. The surrounding courtyard, little of which was exposed, is a possible location for cooking to have been conducted. The high concentration of juglets suggests that liquids were being served and poured and the goblets further indicate activities involving drinking took place in the temple. However, there is an absence of kraters and large bowls that could have held large quantities of liquids. To account for this discrepancy between the indications of liquid consumption, on the one hand, and the lack of kraters, on the other, a number of explanations may be suggested. It is possible that the assemblage is not complete and that there were once kraters and large bowls but have subsequently been lost due to post-depositional processes. Another possibility is that liquids were brought to the temple from outside, although the juglets seem to indicate liquids were being transmitted from one vessel to another inside the temple itself. Another suggestion is that the consumption taking place inside the temple was limited in scale and not intended for large groups of ritual participants, thus not requiring large holding vessels for liquids. It is also feasible that the storage jar that was sunk into the podium was used for storing liquids, thus negating the need for a vessel like a krater. Regarding the chalices, it is unclear what function they served: apparatuses for burning incense, for consumption, or for presenting offerings. The distribution of these vessels shows movement from the entrance in two directions, one north toward the northeast corner of the room where the benches along the north and east walls meet, and the other toward
85
Only the west section of this northern bench remained and given the similarity between the vessel types in this stratum and the previous Stratum XI, it is likely the northern bench served the same purpose in both (see Stern 1984: Figs. 23– 24).
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the west to the area of the raised platforms. As described above, the vessels in the north indicate consumption, alongside objects of prestige. It appears that consumption was performed on the northern side of the temple upon entering from the south. Considering this assemblage in the north was confined to only a few types and that it differed from the assemblage from the plastered platform to the west, it might be indicative that the nature of the rituals performed in the two main focal points of activity was different in scope and intention. The assemblage from the raised podiums to the west was much more diverse, either representing a single or multiple events in which individuals partook in consumption of food and drink and then left the vessels behind on shelves, benches, and plastered pedestals. The various surfaces and their raised heights drew attention towards them, indexing their special nature. Accordingly, they were used as shelves for placing vessels, either during or following ritual ceremonies. The sole storage vessel, fractured as it was, came from the podium area and was either used for storage of foodstuffs to be consumed in the temple or otherwise was sunk into the floor as a permanent fixture into which ritual actors could either pour offerings or out of which liquids could be removed and transferred using juglets. Similar features appear, for example, in the Lachish Fosse temple. Since no cult objects were recovered from Stratum XI, it is difficult to assess the specific nature of cultic practices. The small finds – an arrowhead and beads – do not reveal much about the cultic activities either. The surrounding courtyard area was only exposed in a very limited manner. In Stratum X, although fewer intact vessels were recovered than in the Stratum XI, the activities appear to have remained largely the same. Five differences are apparent: an overall decrease in the number of bowls; the appearance of kraters; a significant decrease in juglets; an increase in jugs; and a major increase in cultic and prestige objects. The main types of activities reflected in Stratum XI’s assemblage continue – consumption, limited storage and serving and pouring. The decrease in bowls appears to be less significant when considering with goblets and chalices included, 63% of the assemblage still reflects consumption (in contrast to Stratum XI’s 76%). The addition of kraters could have aided in storing or serving liquids or dry food to groups of individuals. The decrease in juglets, also noted from the Lachish Fosse Temple I to Fosse Temple II, could reflect a number of possible scenarios: a shift away from serving liquids; a maintained tradition of drinking but the replacement of juglets by other vessels for pouring liquids; or an incomplete picture of the Stratum X temple inventory due to its fragmentary state. Most of the prestige objects from the temple were found in Stratum X. This suggests that objects from Stratum XI were saved and reused in the following Stratum X. The focal point of activity in Stratum X was in Locus 184. Its assemblage reflected mainly consumption and activities related to prestige, ritual, and cult in general. Loci 193, 196 and 248 were areas directly to the south and east of the podium and were found with a significant number of objects. These spaces were either deposits or accumulations of residual objects that were originally intended for the podium itself. Whatever the case may be, the area to the northwest was primarily a space for offering objects and for consumption. No indications of food preparation were detected, while some storage is indicated by the storage jar. Two other areas where storage could have occurred were in the east (where two storage jars were recovered) and in the newly constructed room which possibly had a silo. It is not clear why the room was added or from which direction one accessed this space, but it demonstrates that in Stratum X additional space outside of the main loci of ritual activities was dedicated to possible longer-term storage. This might be a reflection of altering needs of the temple, its personnel and the cultic activities which took place within it. 11.2.2 Possible Metal Production Stern suggested the crucibles and copper slag found in the courtyard were evidence of on-site metal production, possibly for the service of producing metal figurines, jewelry and weapons (Stern 1984: 12). Metal production and recycling in temple courtyards has similarly been attested in the LB at nearby Tel Nami and possibly at Tel Akko, and in the MB at Nahariya. Metal production near temples is also known from Cypriot contexts at Enkomi, Kition and Athienou (Dothan and Ben-Tor 1983; Karageorghis and Demas 1985: 253– 254; Karageorghis and Kassianidou 1999). It may be little coincidence, then, that there was a large number of Cypriot imports at Tel Mevorakh and that the temple architecture somewhat reflects LB traditions at Cypriot temple sites like Kition. At Tel Nami, crucibles were found alongside parts of furnaces and other tools such as chisels, tweezers, drills, punches, and an awl. The crucibles and furnaces had remains of bronze residue similar to the crucible from Tel Mevorakh (Artzy 1999: 27). The extent of metal industry at Tel
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Mevorakh specifically is difficult to assess due to the limited exposure of and small number of finds from the temple courtyard. Nonetheless, as Stern suggested, it is possible that a local metal workshop was functional in the temple courtyard. It is therefore possible that at least some of the votive offerings presented in the temple (whether jewelry, weapons, other metal finds) were commissioned by the temple itself. Production of votive objects was attested at other Canaanite temples as well. Thus, although not definitive, it is possible that metal production was conducted at Tel Mevorakh. 11.2.3 The Use of Special Objects at Tel Mevorakh The small finds from Stratum X offer additional insight into the types of offerings presented in a Canaanite temple. The bronze snake measured 20 cm long (Fig. 11.3).86 It was possibly a cult object either representing a deity or an attribute of a deity, with various possible interpretations including being identified with female deities, as carrying apotropaic capabilities to ward off evil or demons or as representing attributes of fertility and rejuvenation (Stern 1984: 22–23). The snake is one of the few examples of an actual cult object found in a Canaanite temple. It is not a surprise that it was found amongst the objects on the podium deposit. The pendant with the eight-rayed star was cut from a sheet of bronze and was worked in repoussé (Stern 1984: Fig. 3:3). The iconography of the eight-rayed star pendant resembles many pendants from around the southern Levant such as those from the Lachish Fosse Temple. This imagery is most often associated with an astral deity such as Ištar or Astarte (Ziffer 1990: 59; Keel and Uehlinger 1998; Cornelius 2004). The cymbals measured ca. 8.5 cm in diameter and were perforated in the center (Fig. 11.4). Missing were the small loops for fitting over the finger, known from other parallels. Cymbals in general add an auditory element to assemblages. The pair of cymbals recalls similar objects recovered from various Canaanite sites, many of which were found in specifically cultic spaces during the LB II and Iron Age. One pair was yielded from the Stelae Temple at Hazor, four pairs were yielded from LB and early Iron Age strata at Megiddo, one pair was yielded from the LB Stratum V at Tell Abu Hawam, two pairs were yielded from the LB at Shiqmona (a possible sanctuary), one pair was found in an LB tomb at Akko, and one pair was yielded from a public building at Tel Batash (Stern 1984: 23, and bibliography therein). The game pieces resemble many other conical pieces that have been excavated in the southern Levant from the MB through the Iron Age (cf. Stern 1984: 72: n. 47), including other temple contexts (Hazor, Megiddo, Lachish, and possibly Beth Shean and Shiqmona). Conceptually, games represent leisure, a concept that elicits heightened social status and the social flexibility to enjoy participating in a game in place of being preoccupied by activities of survival. Games have also been associated with the realm of cult and fate dictated by the deities (e.g. Gilmour 1997; Guillaume 2013). Either games were played within the temple precinct, or these objects were offered symbolically bearing both social and religious significance. Regarding the knife and dagger, the knife might have been ceremonial and dedicated as a votive offering. Whether or not the knife was used, it represents a tool that could be used for slaughter and sacrifice, possibly part of the temple inventory directly related to slaughtering animals. However, no altar or space for sacrifice was indicated by the excavators, although these would have likely been located in the courtyard. The dagger’s flattened point indicates extensive use. This, it could have been directly related to temple rituals or a prestige object presented as a votive offering. However, these objects might also have been perceived as divine weapons or weapons of deities and therefore could have played a role in ceremonies and processions. Two items found out of context were possibly related to activities in the LB temples: a stone mace-head and a libation table (Stern 1984: Fig. 18:6, Pl. 31:10). The mace head (if from the LB) could have served a ceremonial purpose, symbolically recalling archaic traditions of the past. It was the mace in Mesopotamian myth that Marduk used to smash the head of his enemy, Tiamat. The notion of deity and rulers gaining ascendancy through the use of a divine weapon in myth might have translated into real material offerings and ceremonies using those weapons symbolically. Libation tables and their possible functions were discussed in Section 8.2.3.2.
11.3 The Role and Function of the Roadside Shrine at Tel Mevorakh The temple was interpreted by Stern as a roadside shrine for the use of travelers, possibly on the way to Dor (Stern 1984: 36) and related to the local Canaanite population. He suggested the snake was an attribute of the 86
The measurement according to the figure itself is 18 cm, not 20 cm: see Fig. 3:1.
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goddess ‘Ashtoret, and the temple was dedicated to a divine couple: Ba‘al and ‘Ashtoret (ibid.: 35). Mazar, on the other hand, suggested the temple served foreign populations of traders and merchants from Cyprus or the Aegean (Mazar 1980: 62–68). Nakhai suggested that the absence of any iconographic representation of a male deity indicates the sanctuary was dedicated to a female deity. The ambiguity in differentiating between the triad of Canaanite goddesses Asherah, Astarte and Anat, and Egyptianized Qedeshet and Egyptian Hathor during the LB led her to suggest that individual worshippers chose which of the goddesses they were worshipping (Nakhai 1993: 259). Rather than viewing specific activity types and objects as directly related to the worship of a particular deity, I prefer to view these as more symptomatic of being part of the Canaanite cultic milieu of how Canaanites worshipped, in general. Attempting to identify precisely the identity of the deity, without explicit textual evidence, is somewhat a moot point and in general, it would seem a multiplicity of divinities were worshipped in southern Levantine temples (cf. Section 17.3.2). The information yielded from the temple sequence at Tel Mevorakh indicates extreme continuity and persistence in practice regarding consumption and the use and dedication of prestigious objects. There was limited evidence for storage and little if any evidence of food preparation from within the temple. Prestige objects include many of the small finds from the site, as well as the wealth of imports. The raised platforms and plastered stairs were the focal points of activities in the temple interior, with evidence of consumption, serving or pouring, and the presentation of votive offerings including objects of prestige and objects for personal adornment. Like at other sites, activities likely included the ritualistic burial of cultic vessels in a favissa. Activities were also conducted in the temple courtyard, including possible metal production. However, due to the limited exposure of the courtyard, the full extent of its use is unclear. Like other temples, no large cult statue was recovered. Further, no anthropomorphic figurines were found at the site, although the snake figurine was likely some form of cult object. Interestingly, most of the objects yielded from the temple are also often found in other contexts (e.g. houses, palaces, tombs). Thus, they themselves do not indicate a cultic identity. No altars were found in the courtyard, nor were faunal remains reported making any determination of the types of sacrifices that may have taken place or types of substances consumed impossible. Possibly signifying the identity, professions or socioeconomic statuses of the temples’ worshippers, over half of the bowl assemblage was composed of Cypriot imports (60%), and 42% of the overall assemblage was Cypriot.87 Although functional in their use for consumption, imported bowls might also be perceived as prestige objects with implicit symbolic value. Thus, the large quantity and percentage of Cypriot imports suggest these could have symbolized the prestige of the donor. As imported objects are known from various non-cultic contexts as well, they do not necessarily signal cultic activity. Rather, they shed light on offerings that served as status symbols within the cultic space at Tel Mevorakh. Within the context of an extramural temple, it is therefore likely that locals, travelers, traders and merchants – but not necessarily urban elites – utilized the Tel Mevorakh temple for consumption, various ritualistic activities, and for the dedication of votive offerings.
87
For Mycenaean imports, see Hankey 1984: 20–21.
Chapter 12 Nahariya The following analysis and discussion of the Nahariya assemblages and distribution of objects are based largely on the old preliminary reports from Ben-Dor and Dothan in the 1950s (Ben-Dor 1950; Dothan 1956). Negbi (1976) provided additional details regarding the figurines and their find spots. Naeh’s 2012 thesis, in which she had access to all of the material from the original excavations as well as Dothan’s field notes and some of Ben-Dor’s letters and notes,88 and additional personal communications with Naeh (2017) have also provided important information with regards to miniature vessels, the quantities and find spots of all objects that were not presented in the initial reports by the excavators and insightful interpretations of the types of activities that took place at the site.89 The total numbers of vessels and overall statistics from the site were apparently processed by Zuckerman and Naeh but are currently not accessible, still awaiting publication. Thus, the discussion below will emphasize types in place of quantities and percentages, although when possible, quantities and percentages will be provided as well.
12.1 Contextual Analysis 12.1.1 Stratum V – The Square Building, Bammah, and Surrounding Courtyard Four main loci of activity date to Stratum V: Locus 23 (the square building), Locus 22 north of the building, the lower bammah to the south of the building, and the deposition level beneath the Stratum IV building to the north (Fig. 4.1). The ceramic assemblage from the square building, Locus 23 was composed of bowls, cooking pots, storage jars, jugs, juglets, lamps and cultic stands. Thirty-six miniature vessels and a miniature seven-cupped bowl were also recovered. Additionally, a hoard (jar 4650) recovered from the building was composed of silver and bronze objects, including three female figurines made of silver and a fourth of bronze (Negbi 1976: 130, 177–8: Cat. nu. 1525–8), cast silver fragments possibly parts of the horns of the goddess from the Stratum IV mould, and silver and bronze fragments which included lumps of silver and bronze cast together. Remains of woven textile were also found in the jar (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.4). Other finds from Locus 23 included silver objects (chains, pins, leaves, fragments of rings, a possible snake), bronze objects (fragments of a possible dagger, pins, a needle), over one hundred beads and fragments of a stone plaque and alabaster vessel. The ceramic assemblage from Locus 22 (ibid.: Table 3.5) included bowls, cooking pots, storage jars, a pithos, jugs, juglets, a four-spouted lamp, an amphoriskos and a number of cultic stands. Five miniature vessels came from the locus. A small bronze dagger was recovered from the outdoor space as well as a clay potter’s cone, likely used in the process of producing of miniature vessels. Both Ben-Dor and Dothan indicated the recovery of large amounts of cooking pot sherds at the site, and Dothan specifically identified many hearths and an abundance of animal bones mixed with ash in the open courtyard (Ben-Dor 1950: 32–33; Dothan 1956: 19–20). Further, cooking pots were often accompanied by baking trays and were most heavily concentrated in the western side of the courtyard, possibly concentrated around some of the hearths (Naeh 2011). The ceramic assemblage from the lower bammah included bowls, a cooking pot, storage jars, a pithos, jugs, a large amount of juglets, lamps (one of which was four spouted), a large number of cultic stands and an imported Cypriot vessel. A large concentration of miniature vessels was found in and around the stones of the lower bammah, including 80 miniatures bowls, cups, jugs, and juglets, and 181 complete and fragmentary seven-cupped bowls. A few metal objects were recovered from the bammah, including a bronze needle, bronze knob, and silver pin. About 30 beads came from the bammah as well as flint tools and a clay figurine of a quadruped (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.6). Dothan further indicated that additional anthropomorphic figurines, clay doves, lion and bird amulets and metal figurines were interspersed with a black oily substance and animal bones on the bammah (Dothan and Dothan 1992).
88
Naeh did not have access to all of Ben-Dor’s records, so the documentation from the earlier excavation is more fragmentary. 89 Unfortunately, the project to complete the final report of Nahariya has been put on hold.
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The deposit below Floor VII of Stratum IV’s north building contained extensive amounts of pottery including cultic stands and miniature vessels, a female silver plaque figurine and a bronze figurine possibly of a male, 37 beads, other silver and bronze objects, and copious amounts of animal bones. Unfortunately, no further information about the ceramic types was provided by Ben-Dor except for the brief mention of the “usual Middle Bronze II types” (Ben-Dor 1950: 10) and a few references to jars (ibid.: Fig. 21 b,c). It can be assumed that bowls, jugs, juglets, cooking pots and lamps also accompanied the finds, although this is speculative. 12.1.2 Stratum IV – The Large Bammah, Outdoor Courtyard Areas and Rectangular Building to the North Activities in Stratum IV were focused around six main loci (Fig. 4.2): the bammah (including Locus 21), Locus 10, Locus 11, Locus 8, Room I of the north building, and Locus B (the accumulation of objects to the west of the north building). The ceramic assemblage from the bammah contained a large quantity of bowls, a goblet, kraters, cooking pots, storage jars, jugs, and high concentrations of juglets and cultic stands. In addition, 47 miniature vessels including bowls, cups, juglets and a jug, as well as eight seven-cupped bowls, were recovered from the stones of the bammah. Fragments of a few metal objects were recovered, including a silver plaque figurine of a female. Additional finds included two clay dove figurines, a few flint tools, about 30 beads, a millstone and a few stone pendants (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.7). Locus 21, atop the bammah, contained a bowl, a cooking pot, a storage jar, some jugs, a juglet and a few cultic stands. Six miniature vessels from the locus included bowls and a cup and an additional miniature seven-cupped bowl was yielded. Other finds included three beads and a mould for casting figurines in the form of a horned and tiara-wearing female (Fig. 12.3). Locus 10, west of the bammah, had amongst its finds a pillar that Dothan suggested was part of an entrance area into the domain of the bammah (Dothan 1956: 17, 22). The ceramic assemblage included bowls, a cooking pot, a storage jar and pithos, jugs, juglets and a few cultic stands. The assemblage also included five miniature vessels (bowls and cups) in addition to ten miniature seven-cupped bowls. Fragments of a few bronze and silver objects were recovered from the area, and a stone mould for casting metal tools, a flint scraper and a bead were yielded as well (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.9). Locus 11, also to the west of the bammah, was paved and possibly an altar area (Dothan 1956: 22). The ceramic assemblage included a bowl, a few kraters, jugs, a high percentage of juglets and some cultic stands. One of the jugs had an applied figure of a monkey formed around the neck (ibid.: Pl. 3:F). Seven miniature vessels included bowls and cups, and another two miniature seven-cupped bowls were found. A few bronze and silver scraps and fragments of plaques were recovered, as were the head of an animal figurine and eight beads. Two metal hoards deposited in jars were also found. Vessel 847a was filled mainly with silver objects but also included some bronze and gold objects. These objects included at least two silver female plaques (if not more but corrosion damaged a large number of other possible leaf plaques), a number of silver miniature bowls, a scarab ring, and a wide-ranging assortment of other unidentifiable objects. The contents of Vessel 914 were made of silver and reflect those from the other hoard, including at least three female figurines, plaques, rings, silver miniature bowls and corroded metal fragments (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.10). Locus 8 was located midway between the north building and Locus 11, directly west of the northern part of the bammah. It was an open space with a large assemblage that was composed largely of miniature vessels and animal bones – some of which were incised. Other finds included a silver pin and flint tools. No other information is available regarding this locus. The broad-room building’s Room I (Floors VII–V) was dated to Stratum IV by Dothan. The finds from these levels include large patches of ash, fragments of cultic stands, a bronze adze, a few bowls and some miniature vessels. By the level of Floor V, a few concentrated ash layers were detected and appear to have been hearths or possibly areas where substances such as incense were burned; other finds included bowls, jars and a scattering of shells (Ben-Dor 1950: 11–12). Locus B, located west of Room I and beneath the later Room Ia, was described as a dump or refuse heap, a depth of over 1.5 m of a “solid mass of dark brown to black earth and ashes, packed with thousands of sherds of every size, type, and description,” with “hundreds of bowls, scores of fragments of juglets and larger jars, Tell el-Yehudiya ware, some dove figurines, and many model offering-pots” (Ben-Dor 1950: 14). Ben-Dor also described thousands of “incense burner” fragments and determined them to be the dominant
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and most significant vessel in the area. Ben-Dor also stated that large amounts of animal bones and shells were recovered from the deposition layer, and in one case an animal bone remained in situ in a highly polished carinated bowl. Due to the fragmentary and non-restorable state of most vessels, Ben-Dor was under the impression that the objects were broken elsewhere prior to their deposition in Locus B. According to Naeh (2012a: Table 3.11), 37 miniature vessels and 11 miniature seven-cupped bowl fragments were yielded from the locus. 12.1.3 Stratum III – The Large Bammah, Outdoor Courtyard Areas and Rectangular Building to the North Stratum III had seven main loci of activity: the bammah’s uppermost level (including Locus 20), Locus 11, Room I, Room Ia (the added western room constructed above Locus B), Room II (a new addition to the east of Room I) and Rooms III and IV (north of Room II). The bammah’s upper phase had an assemblage that included large quantities of bowls, a few kraters and cooking pots, storage jars, a pithos, jugs, juglets, a lamp and cultic stands. Sixty-two miniature vessels from the bammah included bowls, cups, juglets and a jug, as well as a seven-cupped bowl. Also yielded from the bammah were three beads, flint implements, a possible stone fishing weight and silver and bronze objects including silver earrings, a possible gold and silver tiara, a silver figurine or dagger, and a bronze buckle from a weapon. Locus 20 from the bammah included bowls, a krater, a jug, a number of juglets and a cultic stand. There were 13 additional miniature vessels (bowls and cups) and four miniature seven-cupped bowls. A few metal objects were recovered from this locus as well as nine beads and part of a clay figurine (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.12). Locus 11 continued to function in Stratum III as well with a ceramic assemblage that included bowls, a few jugs, a large number of juglets and a cultic stand. Seven miniature cups and bowls were found in the locus. Few small finds were found (ibid.: Table 3.13). From the broad-room building to the north, very little has been published on the finds and their distribution. A ceramic hunchback was found in Room Ia, intended to be attached to a vessel. In Room II to the east, two complete cooking pots and many more cooking pot fragments were exposed next to burnt remains. The additional cells to the north, Rooms III and IV, were found with very little pottery inside. 12.1.4 Strata II and I During Strata II and I, the bammah went out of use but limited activity continued at the site indicated by poorly-defined and meagerly-built structures (Dothan 1956: 18–19). Stratum II finds were recovered above the bammah and included bowls, a krater, storage jars, pithoi, jugs, juglets, cultic stands, some Cypriot sherds and 18 miniature vessels (bowls and cups). Small finds included some flint implements, silver rings, five beads and a scarab in a silver frame with four rows of spiral design (Naeh 2012a: Table 3.14). The assemblage from Stratum I, the last phase at Nahariya, included bowls, cooking pots, storage jars, a pithos, jugs, juglets, lamps, cultic stands and the largest concentration of Cypriot imports at the site. Some of the imports were miniature forms. Twenty-seven miniature vessels (bowls, cups, a jug and a juglet) and two seven-cupped bowls were yielded, a slight increase in miniature vessels from the previous stratum. Small finds included a number of bronze fragments possibly of pins, plaques and miniature bowls, a number of flint tools, a few stone objects, two beads and four shell objects possibly used as beads (ibid.: Table 3.15).
12.2 Analysis of Behavioral Patterns 12.2.1 Stratum V In Stratum V, the assemblages from all areas indicate activities included consumption, food preparation, storage and cultic activity involving the use of cultic stands, miniature vessels and the deposition of precious objects. While all areas had ample evidence for mundane types (bowls, jars, jugs, juglets, etc.), the distribution of cultic vessels was more concentrated in specific areas. Miniature vessels were found in very high concentrations in the square building and the bammah in contrast to the few from Locus 22. It is evident the central offering location of the seven-cupped bowls was the bammah itself. Further, only one cultic stand was found inside the square building versus a larger number from Locus 22 and an even higher concentration on the bammah. This might indicate that these stands were used mainly in outdoor spaces or that they were
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disposed after use outside. Further, both single- and four-spouted lamps were found in outdoor spaces whereas only single-spouted lamps were found inside, suggesting four-spouted lamps played a role in outdoor ritual. The indoor lamps, although potentially related to ritual, were just as likely related to the mundane needs of lighting roofed spaces. Additionally, the outdoor space to the west and north of the building and bammah was likely used for food preparation, specifically of meat (animal bones) and bread (baking trays). This outdoor space provided an ideal setting for the culinary necessities, possibly of large-scale feasts, of temple personnel as well as visiting worshipers. In addition, remains of fruit reported indicate additional signs of consumption (Dothan 1956: 22–23; Naeh 2011). It is also apparent that the Stratum V small finds were concentrated mainly in the square building, with a few objects from the open area to the north (Locus 22) and a small concentration from the bammah. The objects in the metal hoard from the building and other scattered metal fragments in the room suggest local metal industry, further buttressed by a few possible crucibles (Naeh, personal communication, 2017). Although these objects were recovered from an indoor space, the building was not likely the location of production, since metal production generally took place in outdoor settings and when associated with temples, in courtyards (cf. Section 11.2.2). The concentration of metal objects inside, and not outside, suggests that they were offered in the building itself or were stored there either prior to or following their use or offering. The clay potter’s cone, found north of the building, suggests local ceramic industry for producing, en masse, miniature vessels. Unfortunately, no permanent installations related to either industry were exposed. Thus, although there are indications of metal and ceramic production on site, the respective locations of those activities are unclear. Further, figurines came from the building and the deposit beneath the north building’s floor, but not from the bammah, and beads were most heavily concentrated in the square building. Thus, in Stratum V the bammah was the focal point for rituals related to the use and deposition of hundreds of miniature vessels and cultic stands, votive offerings of figurines and amulets, for example, as well as consumption. Some objects of prestige were deposited at the bammah as well, and in fact, the only Cypriot import reported from this early phase was found in the stones of the bammah. It appears that the building was utilized for consumption, possible storage and food preparation, for depositing or offering prestige objects, for more limited cultic activities related to miniature vessels and cultic stands, and possibly for local industry. It is difficult to assess how exactly the deposit from Ben-Dor’s excavations completes this picture of the early cultic activities at Nahariya, but it is likely that similar rituals that took place on a regular basis at the bammah also took place to the north prior to the construction of Ben-Dor’s “temple.” The two figurines recovered from that deposit indicate activities similar to those from the early square building, which had four figurines hoarded in a jar and many similar beads. This stresses the possibility that the Stratum IV unit was initially constructed with cultic intent as it was placed directly above this old locus of cultic activity. Another alternative would be to suggest the locus exposed by Ben-Dor served as further space for food preparation and the associated consumption as evident in the open courtyard excavated by Dothan. 12.2.2 Stratum IV The same types of activities performed in Stratum V continued into Stratum IV. These included consumption, food preparation, storage and cultic activities involving miniature vessels and cultic stands. However, there was a shift in where certain activities took place. The newly constructed bammah continued to serve as the main focal point for the ritualized deposition of miniature vessels. Yet, other areas too were found with higher concentrations of miniature vessels than in the previous stratum. The overall number of seven-cupped bowls decreased, somewhat evenly distributed throughout the loci. The largest concentration was in Locus 10, not the bammah as in Stratum V. Thus, in tandem with the physical reorientation of the cult site, there was a shift in the types of spaces used for performing certain rituals. A number of other trends were observed from this stratum. Firstly, the quantity of ceramic objects was highest from the bammah and the Locus B dump, whereas Loci 10 and 11 were found with significantly fewer objects. This could be due to the fact that these open spaces were more exposed to the elements over the years, or because they were regularly used for rituals and offerings and thus routinely cleared of their objects. Further, the highest concentration of juglets was again around the bammah, and the highest concentrations of cultic stands were found on the bammah and in the Locus B dump. These two trends continue observations made in Stratum V, in the latter case demonstrating that cultic stands were more often associated with outdoors spaces once again.
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Small finds were most heavily concentrated on the bammah and Locus 11, with significantly fewer in the broad-room building, Locus B, and the other loci. The heaviest concentrations of beads were yielded from the bammah and Locus 11. Both were also loci that yielded figurines, thus drawing an association between the two object types. Whereas the main concentration of beads in Stratum V was the indoor space of the square building, Stratum IV shows a shift to the open-air bammah. The stone mould from the bammah appears to be an offering in its final resting place. If the silver fragments from Stratum V were horns that were once part of a figurine cast from this specific mould, this would mean the mould was in use for a long period of time before going out of use by the end of Stratum IV. The location of where these figurines would have been cast, as well as other metal objects from the Locus 10 mould for metal tools, is unknown. Since the back piece of the mould was not recovered, a complete reconstruction of the casting process is difficult. It is therefore possible that the mould was never intended to be used at the site but was rather brought there as a prestige offering. Two vessels with metal hoards were recovered from Locus 11, both containing metal figurines. Thus, the hoarding tradition which was already practiced in Stratum V carried on into Stratum IV. However, after Stratum IV, no more metal hoards were deposited into jars and buried or offered at the site. In contrast to the interior context of the Stratum V hoard, the two Stratum IV hoards were recovered outdoors. Thus, despite the reorientation of the site, there was significant continuity from Stratum V to Stratum IV within the material culture. Still, there were noticeable shifts in practice, such as a diminished number of miniature vessels and significant decrease in seven-cupped bowls. The tradition of depositing metal figurines, mainly female, continued into this stratum, and the connection between the stone mould of the female found on the bammah and the possible silver horn from Stratum V further emphasizes the continued use of objects and traditions at the site. With the construction of the broad building to the north, the deposit below its lowest floor was no longer accessible, and thus Locus B became an important open space for disposing of objects that had gone out of use. If metal manufacturing was conducted at the site, the stone mould for casting metal tools indicates metal tools could be manufactured locally. As in Stratum V, however, no slag or other utensils related to metal production were recovered. 12.2.3 Stratum III In Stratum III, the bammah remained the center of cultic activity in terms of overall ceramic assemblage as well as miniature vessels. It also had the highest concentration of small finds. In general, however, there was a decline in the quantity and distribution of objects. The types of activities reflect the previous strata and include consumption, food preparation, storage and cultic activity involving miniature vessels and cultic stands. The high concentration of juglets yielded once again around the bammah attests to activity involving the pouring of liquids either on the bammah itself or elsewhere prior to the deposition of the vessels on the bammah. A comparable number of miniature vessels were recovered from this stratum as were from the previous stratum, most heavily concentrated on the bammah and in Locus 20. There was a decrease in number of seven-cupped bowls with less than ten found in Stratum III, thus continuing the downward trend that was already evident in the previous stratum. These were mainly concentrated around the bammah, similar to that which was noticed in Stratum V, but differing from the wider distribution noted in Stratum IV. The broad-room building to the north, with its new expansions to the west (Room 1a), east (Room II) and northeast (Rooms III and IV), appears to have facilitated activities that included cooking (cooking pots, ash, a possible hearth and reddening from burning near the eastern wall of Room II), storage (Room’s III and IV were found mainly empty but were too small to have had much functional use besides storage of some sorts), as well as ancillary cultic activities (some cultic stands, miniature vessels, and clay figurines were recovered from the building) (Ben-Dor 1950: 15–16, 21, 26). Fewer small finds than in the previous strata were attested. A dozen beads from the bammah, a few metal objects that do not differ from the types found in Strata V or IV (but differ in the fewer total examples) and a basalt pestle were yielded. The overall trend of Stratum III, therefore, was a deterioration of cultic activity at the site. Fewer miniature vessels and non-ceramic votive offerings attest to the decrease in ritual activity at the site. Still, the bammah continued to function as the main focal point of cultic activity at Nahariya. With the increase in size of the broad-room building to the north, there was a decrease in activity in the outdoor space to the south. In particular, the objects that were originally associated with the open-air cult at Nahariya – hundreds of miniature
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vessels, seven-cupped bowls, metal figurines mainly of females – became less prominent in the assemblage and in the case of figurines, possibly went out of use altogether. In addition to the decrease in these activities, there was no longer any evidence of possible metal industry. 12.2.4 Strata II and I The last two strata at Nahariya further indicate a deteriorating cultic site. It seems the same types of activities were performed but with less frequency. Control over the site was weakened and built-up infrastructure was lacking, largely falling out of use. In Stratum II there was a decrease in miniature vessels and complete disappearance of seven-cupped bowls. Stratum I, however, did attest to a slight return to old traditions with more miniature votive vessels and a few seven-cupped bowls. Overall, the few objects of prestige contrast with the earlier phases which were saturated with votive offerings of all types.
12.3 The Nahariya Cult: A Unique MB Extramural Space within the Canaanite Religious Landscape 12.3.1 Unique Trends in Activity Types at Nahariya The most striking phenomenon noticed at Nahariya is the high frequency of miniature vessels, which make up 35% of the overall assemblage throughout the temple’s life. These miniature vessels ranged in morphology and type, mimicking regular-sized bowls, jugs and juglets. They were sometimes found with objects deposited inside of them, others were made of metal, and unique to Nahariya, hundreds of seven-cupped bowls were yielded (Naeh 2012a). Further activities include consumption as well as storage and food preparation, the latter two being expressed in quantities not witnessed at most other temples.90 According to estimates from 2011, over 10% of the assemblage was composed of storage jars and pithoi, and nearly 5% was cooking pots, plus dozens of baking trays and stone tools related to food processing (Naeh 2011). Although these percentages were later somewhat changed after final evaluation for the final publication (the final calculations are currently not available), these percentages offer important insight into the types of activities at the site. Ceramic production likely took place at the site also, particularly of miniature seven-cupped bowls. Metal production of objects such as figurines and tools might also have been conducted on site. Overall, the assemblage reflects large amounts of ritual activity, votive offerings and displays of prestige. 12.3.2 The Use and Distribution of Special Objects Related to Cult and Ritual 12.3.2.1 Miniature Vessels The most prominent vessels at the site were the miniature vessels and seven-cupped bowls (Fig. 12.1). The residue analysis performed on the seven-cupped bowls, unpublished, indicated that the individual cups once held animal fats or vegetable oils, never with any crossover or mixing of the two. Namdar has accordingly argued that the seven-cupped bowls were one-time-use vessels used for special rituals unique to Nahariya, either related to libations or burning of incense (Namdar, personal communication, 2016). The relationship between these miniature vessels and the cultic stands, often conceptualized as stands for burning incense, is intriguing. Yet, no burning or soot marks were detected on any of the stands recovered from the site (Naeh, personal communication, 2017). The largest concentrations of miniature vessels and seven-cupped vessels were in the earliest strata and mainly around the Strata V and IV bammot. There was a continual decrease in quantities of miniature vessels with each subsequent phase at the site with a brief relapse in Stratum I. Whereas miniature vessels were found in relatively high numbers in indoor contexts, the seven-cupped bowls were almost exclusively found outdoors, and mainly on and around the bammot. This differentiation between miniature vessels and the sevencupped bowls suggests that whereas miniatures were used in a variety of spaces, the seven-cupped bowls were used nearly exclusively for outdoor rituals intimately connected to the bammot. 12.3.2.2 Cultic Stands and Juglets Activities also included some form of ritual using the fenestrated stands. These stands were often associated with miniature vessels. Further, many juglets were yielded in the same contexts, possibly related to the pour90
But see also Tell el-Hayyat, Section 13.2.1.
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ing of liquids, as suggested by Dothan and recently by Namdar. In the earliest stratum, these activities took place largely outdoors in Locus 22 and the lower bammah. In Stratum IV, these vessels continued to appear side-by-side, primarily around the bammah. It is clear from the contexts that both stands and juglets were essential equipment used in tandem with miniature vessels and the seven-cupped bowls. The juglets could have either been used for pouring substances directly on the bammah or for pouring liquids into the miniature vessels during ceremonies that ended with their final deposition on the bammah. 12.3.2.3 Figurines Another trend noted at the site was the relatively quick appearance and then disappearance of metal figurines at the site. From the onset, the deposition of metal figurines was a major element in the cult. These figurines were mainly female which is suggestive of the gender of the deity worshiped at the site (Figs. 12.2, 12.3). The six figurines from Stratum V, when compared to other southern Levantine sites, is quantitatively impressive. Only Megiddo had comparable quantities of MB figurines. In Stratum IV, more figurines were deposited on the bammah and in two metal hoards. Thus, as the bammah and auxiliary building increased in size, there was paralleled increase in the number of figurines and metal hoards. Strikingly, figurines fell out of use in Stratum III not to be attested again at the site. As the Nahariya architecture further expanded, votive offerings of metal figurines and hoards were no longer evident at the site. This trend coincided with the eventual cessation of the use of the bammah as the site’s main focal point of worship and the decrease of miniature vessels at the site. In addition to female figurines, a large number of ceramic doves, often associated with the worship of a goddess (Keel and Uehlinger 1998), were yielded from the site. Ben-Dor suggested that the doves could have been attached to other vessels such as the cultic stands or to kernoi (e.g. May 1935: Pl. XVI).91 Since a number of doves were found deposited around the site, it is possible that the figurines were first used as decorative attachments to vessels and after the vessels to which they were attached went out of use, they were removed and served some secondary cultic or votive function prior to their eventual deposition. 12.3.2.4 Beads The hundreds of beads recovered from the site were most heavily attested in Locus 23, that is, in indoor space.92 Also in Stratum V, a high concentration of beads was yielded beneath the floor of the later broadroom building. Both spaces were also associated with figurines. Similarly, in Stratum IV, the two main loci of bead deposition were both found with metal figurines. The bammah had the highest concentration of beads and also yielded a large number of metal figurines.93 A few beads were also recovered from Locus 11 which also yielded two hoards which held some metal figurines. It is unclear if or how many beads were recovered from the broad-room building. The later strata had very few beads, again attesting to a decline in the overall activity at the site. 12.3.2.5 Patterns in the Use and Deposition of Ritual Objects The patterns of distribution of the beads and figurines were strikingly similar. Whether the beads actually accompanied the figurines during offerings or rituals is unclear. It could be that the objects were found in similar contexts due to the spaces’ perceived significance and thus the desire to leave behind votive offerings in those particular loci. This does not explain their selective distribution, however. The majority of miniature vessels and seven-cupped bowls were recovered from the lower bammah, yet this space was avoided for the deposition of figurines and beads. Either the rituals involving the use and deposition of miniature vessels were separate acts than those involving the beads and figurines, or at least the final deposition of those objects was not intended to be in the same location. In Stratum IV this changed slightly, when all object types were attested together in the much larger bammah. 91
Similar doves have been found at Crete, Cyprus, Mycenae and Sardis, associated with ceramic vessels and as attachments on kernoi (Ben-Dor 1950: 27). 92 The beads were variously made of agate, carnelian, quartz, crystal, serpentine, silver and shell. 93 According to Negbi, the majority of the figurines from the bammah were recovered from within a jar that was located on the stones of the bammah itself (Negbi 1976: 177–178, 183–184). There appears to be a discrepancy between what Negbi has documented, what Naeh has documented, and what Dothan never published.
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Thus, in tandem with the expansion of the larger broad-room building and the larger bammah, activities that were once separated became more fused together. Miniature vessels, beads, and metal figurines were all found in their highest concentrations around the bammah. On the one hand, it appears that various ritual activities involving different votive offerings were combined into one uniform activity, possibly reflecting a consolidation of power and authority at the site and a symbolic mending of different variegated activities into a more formal ritual process. This consolidation of power might further be indicated by the construction of the larger building to the north. On the other hand, this might also signify the beginning of a general deterioration in the nature of the Nahariya cult or an overall change in the function of, and thus the activities at, the site. Activities that were perceived as cultic and involving prestige gift offerings declined at the time when the Nahariya complex expanded in size. Possibly the Nahariya cult personnel’s desire to expand operations in fact was a reflection of the decadence of the cultic site. Thus, the beginning of the site’s decline in the later strata occurred when the broad-room building was the largest. This expansion became the eventual demise of the site. 12.3.2.6 Storage Jars as Votive Offerings? Interestingly, many sherds of storage jars and pithoi came from the bammah, bringing to question the process in which they arrived at their find spots. Storage jars, to my knowledge, are not considered vessels of symbolic or cultic value. Although storage was related to the site’s overall operations, the storage jars themselves were not cultic equipment. If the bammot were focal points of cultic activity, it must be questioned how the objects that were recovered there were deposited. Why were sherds of storage jars deposited next to miniature vessels? If the fragments of votive vessels indicate cultic activity at the bammah, do the fragments of storage jars indicate storage at the bammah as well? Or should other processes be considered for the final make-up and distribution of objects in the various loci at Nahariya, and at any site for that matter. The impression from the preliminary reports is that numerous miniature vessels and seven-cupped bowls were fully intact while the storage jars (and cultic stands) were largely not restorable. The possibility even arises that cultic vessels were purposefully preserved while more mundane vessels were smashed (Ben-Dor 1950). Trying to define find spots as the primary in situ location of deposition, therefore, is more plausible, and more scientifically sound, in the case of complete vessels standing on floors, shelves or stones, and less sound when dealing with random sherds. As more on the site is published, the hope is that some of these issues will be rectified. 12.3.3 The Nature of the Cult: Recontextualizing Previous Interpretations The open-air cultic site at Nahariya clearly demonstrated a wide array of activity types, some of which were detected at most other temples. Large amounts of consumption, food preparation, storage and on-site production took place at the site. From the information provided by Naeh, large percentages of storage and cooking pots indicate high frequency of these activities not matched by most other Canaanite cult sites. Cultic activities involving the use, deposition or votive offering of miniature vessels, seven-cupped bowls, cultic stands, zoomorphic vessels, anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figurines, beads and even weapons are well attested at the site in a scale unparalleled at any other southern Levant site in the MB or LB. Further, Nahariya’s Cypriot imports are unique to an MB cultic site in the southern Levant and were likely prestige objects brought to and offered at the site. The finds from the site led most scholars to suggest it was dedicated to the worship of a female deity, possibly Asherah or Asherat Yam (Ben-Dor 1950: 41; Dothan 1956: 24; 1981: 80–81; Brody 1998: 55–56). The scholarly understanding of the type of cultic activity at Nahariya has changed from temple cult (BenDor 1950: 40–41; Kaplan 1971: 294–295) to an open-air cultic site in which ritual activity took place in connection with the bammah in addition to the ancillary structures which were associated with the mainly outdoor rituals (Dothan 1981: 75; 1993). The site’s buildings have been referred to as living quarters for priests and possible metal work industry (Dothan 1981: 79–80).94 Others have since steered clear from referring to the structures as temples, alternatively using terms such as chamber (Mazar 1992: 162) or bet marzeah (Bietak 2003b: 165). Both of these claims essentially stress the secondary status of interior space, whether for hosting public ceremonies, as space for preparing those ceremonies, or even for hosting cultic feasts 94
Dothan suggests this might be what the term bet bammot refers to in the biblical text (Dothan 1981: 79–80), see further, Kings II 23:19.
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between the living and dead (but see further interpretations for temple status in Nigro 1996: 221; Hallote 2002: 108; Bietak 2003a: 25). Indeed, many interpretations stress the food offerings and communal feasts at the site (Ottoson 1980: 100; Philip 1988:194; Bietak 2003a). The idiosyncrasy of the cultic site problematizes making a direct comparison to other southern Levantine sites. The essential elements found in temples were completely lacking in the Nahariya buildings. The building itself was not a temple in the formal sense: it did not serve as the main space of cultic activity in which a cult statue might have stood and offerings could have been placed. Instead, cultic activity at the site was mainly outside. On the other hand, the distribution of objects inside the building, beneath the building’s floor, and immediately west of the building in the form of a dump suggests that interior space was not used solely for non-cultic purposes. The nature of the objects – typologically, functionally, and symbolically – was uniform with the material outside of the building. Thus, the broad building’s function must lie somewhere in between “temple” and “non-cultic;” even if the built-up infrastructure at Nahariya was not the main focal point of cultic activity, activities related to cult must have taken place within the building sequence. 12.3.4 Open-Air Activities related to Ritual and Deposits: Foundations, Dedications and Hoards Along with extensive amounts of consumption, food preparation and ritual related to miniature vessels, another recurring activity was the deposition of vessels and objects used at the site. As discussed above, in Stratum V, there was a deposition layer beneath the earliest level of the Stratum IV broad-room building. Ben-Dor described it as a clean, worked kurkar level which was saturated with the bulk of small finds from the building sequence (Ben-Dor 1950: 10). These included metal figurines, beads, other silver and bronze fragments, extensive amounts of pottery including cultic stands and miniature vessels, and copious amounts of animal bones. Two patches of black occupation debris and fragments of charred remains and sherds were in the vicinity, above which was a floor with an accumulation of brownish to black earth intermixed with food remains, charred wood, decomposed organic material, pottery and a bronze adze indicating the first occupation of the building itself, Floor VII (ibid.). At the time, Ben-Dor was unaware of the other structures contemporary with the pre-Floor VII phase at the site. Originally described as an “open enclosure” that was used “from time to time” by people coming for short visits to the site (ibid.), Dothan’s excavations revealed the contemporary square building and bammah and have since expanded our understanding of the site (Dothan 1956: 15–16). Thus, the accumulation of material from beneath the north building appears to be a deposit of cultic equipment contemporary to the much more substantial assemblages from the square building (Locus 23) and the lower bammah to the south. That being the case, the builders of the larger north building must have been aware of the existence of these deposits when choosing the location for construction. If the expansion of the bammah and the continuity in ceramic types from Stratum V to Stratum IV indicates continuity of cultic activity and personnel, it can be concluded that the building was purposefully placed above the previous level of continuous cultic deposition. This calculated decision indicates that the northern building was perceived, at least in its inception, as cultic in some form. There is more significance, however, to the possibility of a calculated burial of objects in a ceremony prior to the construction of an edifice above it. This phenomenon took place throughout Byblos’s Temple of the Obelisks and Sacred Enclosure and possibly was evident in the deposit beneath Room E at the Fosse Temple (cf. Section 10.2.2). It is possible that at Nahariya, some inaugural or dedication ceremony culminating in the deposition of cult vessels for the dedication of a new structure took place during the transition between Stratum V and Stratum IV. Whether this pre-Floor VII deposition layer was a group of pits that can be referred to as favissae or something else is debatable. It is clear, though, that these pits were later built over. It is possible that the needs of the community to expand the size of the building forced the construction on soil previously used for vessel disposal. At Lachish, the fact that the location of the temple itself did not move makes that case more convincing. The temple was surrounded by pits, so as it expanded it inevitably sat above some of the early pits. At Nahariya, however, there was a location shift as well. It is unclear if space to the east, west, or south was less suitable for construction. Nevertheless, the specific space chosen and the subsequent addition of Room Ia to the building’s west indicate that there was intent to construct edifices above land previously used for the burial of cultic vessels. Besides the burial of vessels in pits, three metal hoards stashed in vessels were attested in Strata V and IV. Hoards of mainly metal objects are known from Byblos, Tell el-‘Ajjul, Megiddo, Gezer and Tel Dan
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(Philip 1988; Ilan 1992). Burial of hoards has also been attested at Ebla (Ascalone and Peyronel 2001). Grouping objects together in a jar and then presenting them as votive offerings, or burying them for safekeeping, indicates the contents were special, prestigious and out-of-the-ordinary. In temples, they were cultically charged. The combination of precious metals, female figurines and jewelry compiled together might indicate that they were intended for, or presented by, a female entity. An alternative interpretation would suggest that these objects were offered separately before being collected together, either to free up space for future offerings or for their long-term preservation in times of distress. Interestingly, both of these forms of deposition – pits and metal hoards – went out of use after Stratum IV at Nahariya. Something changed at Nahariya from Stratum III until the end of the site’s use. This paralleled the shift in deposition patterns of beads, figurines and miniature vessels (Section 12.3.2.5), the expansion of the broad-room building in the north, the decrease in overall pottery and cultic objects at the site, the significant drop in the amount and types of miniature votive vessels, and the eventual cessation of the bammah functioning as the central location for worshipping and offering. 12.3.5 What the Activities at Nahariya Signify As at the other sites discussed, Nahariya was a site that exhibited ample amounts of consumption as well as cultic activities involving ritual and votive offerings. In contrast to other cultic sites, however, Nahariya had large amounts of storage and food preparation. Additionally, the wealth of prestige objects recovered from the site was unique. This is even more pronounced when considering the site itself was not situated within an elite context. The site’s open-air, coastal and extramural setting all place Nahariya within a unique category of cultic sites in the MB and LB southern Levant. It is likely that the idiosyncrasy of the site’s activity types is in large part due to its unique natural setting (cf. Section 4.3.1.2). The large number of miniature vessels and seven-cupped bowls indicates unique practices on scales that were not attested at most other sites. The large concentration of locally-produced seven-cupped bowls, and the rarity of their appearance at other sites in the Levant altogether, stresses the uniqueness of certain rituals at Nahariya that were either not practiced at other sites or were conducted using other vessel types. Whether this unique constellation of activities should be considered related to female deity worship, open-air cult, or MB Canaanite cult in general is unclear. Rather, this study has suggested viewing the trends, changes, and assemblages of vessels and objects as responsive to the changing geographic, ecological, political and socioeconomic circumstances of the region during the MB.
Chapter 13 Other Cultic Sites in the MB and LB Southern Levant 13.1 General Trends As indicated in Tables III–XIII, it is clear that there are certain reoccurring trends in activity types at all or most sites through la longue durée of the MB and LB, and interregionally (Fig. 13.1). Nuanced variation from site to site, from stratum to stratum within specific sites, and from interior to exterior spaces, has already been discussed in the previous case studies (Fig. 13.2). This chapter’s expanded site analysis will further discuss convergent and notable divergent trends in the relevant sections below (Table XIV, Fig. 13.3). The sites analyzed below are the remaining MB and LB cultic sites that have enough material published to allow for an analysis of activity types. There was consistently strong evidence for consumption. This was most clear in LB contexts, where bowls account for over half of nearly every assemblage and often account for two-thirds or more. Activities associated with consumption become even more apparent when goblets and chalices (if the latter were indeed used for consumption) are taken into consideration. Additional objects used for serving (e.g. jugs, juglets) further emphasize the focus on consumption in these spaces. During the MB, the use of special cultic vessels such as miniature vessels and cultic stands is well attested. Activities involving storage and food preparation vary but are better attested at MB sites than in the LB. Sites in the MB included in this discussion are Tell el-Hayyat, Lachish Area D, Tel Haror, one of the rooms from the possible temple at Sidon, and the pits from the courtyard at Tell elDab‘a. From the LB, temples include the Lachish Acropolis Temple, Temple 58066 at Beth Shean, and a road-side shrine at Tel Nami.
13.2 MB Cultic Sites 13.2.1 Tell el-Hayyat The publication of the Tell el-Hayyat material (Falconer and Fall 2006) establishes three categories of ceramic types: cooking vessels, storage vessels, and serving vessels. Since statistics by all specific types of vessels were not provided in the final report, it is not possible to enter total numbers of each vessel type into my tables.95 Instead, I have inserted the three categories analyzed by the excavators into the tables. The assemblages from the temple, temple courtyard and domestic spaces at Tell el-Hayyat that were analyzed by the excavators indicate quite a different constellation of activities took place at the site. In particular, there was a significantly larger amount of storage attested at the site as well as food preparation. In fact, it seems that these activities overshadowed the other activity types at the site, which included consumption, a limited amount of cultic activity, as well as some evidence for production. Within the cultic precinct (temple interior and courtyard) during the early MB I (Phase 5) to MB I/II (Phase 3) horizons, there was a general increase of cooking vessels from 16% in Phase 5 to 36% in Phase 3; there was a general overall increase in serving vessels from 24% in Phase 5 to 34% in Phase 3; and there was a general decrease in storage vessels from 60% in Phase 5 to 30% in Phase 3 (ibid.: Figs. 6.49, 7.8). In addition, while consumption within the temple itself was slightly better attested than in the courtyard, storage and food preparation were better attested in the temple courtyard. With slight variation, similar trends were reflected in the domestic assemblages with the exception that storage in the sacred precinct declined over time, to the point that it was the least attested category in Phase 3 (30%) whereas in Phase 3 domestic assemblages, storage jars indeed remained the most frequent vessel type (42%). The analysis of the temple sequence at Tell el-Hayyat was analyzed by the excavators with two leading questions: how does ritual reflect social and economic relations in rural society; and to what extent do village temples symbolize urban social and economic intervention in the countryside or the autonomy of rural communities (ibid.: 84)? According to the excavators, “special function vessels” such as small jugs, votive bowls, crucibles and oil lamps comprised only 1–3% of the overall assemblages at the site (ibid.: 106). Small finds 95
For example, in the discussion of serving vessels (Falconer and Fall 2006: 106–108, 118–119), only “a variety of open bowls and closed cups and bowls” are mentioned and objects such as jugs, juglets, goblets, chalices and kraters are left unaccounted for. Further, there is no direct correlation between total statistics per stratum and the vessels that are found on the pottery plates provided for those specific strata (ibid.: Figs. 4.1–4.2, 4.4–4.9, 4.15). These figures can be used for typology, but not for statistical information or distribution within given loci and strata from the site.
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from the temple include metal objects such as two figurines, two miniature “oxhide ingots,” and other implements, stone objects including 17 beads, a miniature cart wheel, a loom weight and a mould, ceramic objects including three figurines, a cultic stand, 13 miniature vessels, 7 kernoi, two miniature cart wheels, two crucibles and two spindle whorls, and a few bone objects (cf. Falconer and Fall 2006: Table 6.8). Some of these objects certainly were related to rituals at the temple (e.g. the figurines, miniature ingots, beads, miniature cart wheels, miniature vessels, kernoi and the cultic stand.96 On the other hand, some of the objects found inside the temple were associated with production, such as the figurine mould, crucibles, spindle whorls and a number of the metal implements. In domestic contexts, objects signifying production were also yielded, such as a large amount of spindle whorls for textiles, a large number of scrapers and a mortar for various stages in food preparation, a pottery kiln and ceramic wasters from Phase 4 for ceramic production (ibid.: 39–40), and a mould and crucible for metal production. Further, objects associated with cult such as ceramic figurines, miniature vessels, kernoi and a miniature cart wheel were attested as well in domestic contexts. There was significant overlap in certain types of objects, some of which were likely used for cultic purposes, while others seem to have been found exclusively in one or the other context. From this analysis of the material objects, it would appear that the excavators’ assessment was accurate, that is, that objects of material value such as the metal figurines, “ingots” and the beads that were likely related to cultic activities were found exclusively in the temple while other less prestigious objects related to cult such as ceramic figurines, miniature vessels, kernoi and miniature cart wheels were found in both temple and domestic contexts (ibid.: 109). This trend was similarly noted in the Stelae Temple from Area C at Hazor, where certain objects related to cultic activities were recovered from the domestic structures surrounding the temple itself (Section 9.3.2). In fact, at Tell el-Hayyat, the overlap between domestic and cultic activities is reflected in both the ceramic assemblages as well as the small finds. The site, a small rural village, does not display significant barriers between the types of activities within and beyond the sacred precinct; rather, it appears to be a well-integrated community with many shared activities throughout the site, albeit with an awareness that certain activities could be more reserved for the temple, such as the deposition of prestige goods, or some form of worship related to the maṣṣebot that were erected in the temples’ courtyards. With regards to the nature of the social and economic relations within a rural society, temple activities at Tell el-Hayyat were reflective of those of the local community, although a number of nuanced divergences reflect its centrality. Structurally, the temple’s relatively large and well-built edifice indicates its significance and the time invested into its construction and maintenance. The assemblages indicate that the temple reflected household activities, more so than other southern Levantine temples. The temple was also maintained as a space for using special vessels such as miniature vessels, cultic stands and kernoi as well as prestige goods, metal objects, and votive figurines not found elsewhere at the site. The analysis of faunal remains adds to this picture, demonstrating a strong preference for sheep and goat in contrast to an avoidance of pig from the temple precinct; pig was otherwise well attested elsewhere at the site (Falconer and Fall 2006: 104– 105, Table 6.46). The temple therefore functioned on two levels: as a reflection of the community, on the one hand, while also as a tool within the rural settlement to control certain ritualistic prescriptions. The latter is evident in the divergences between the material remains of the domestic and temple spaces. It would therefore seem that the site was an autonomous rural settlement, one that first appeared with a small, well-built temple prior to the establishment of more numerous domestic structures in the later phases at the site (but see Faust 2005 for a different interpretation). In this light, the temple might have first been constructed as a rural, regional center for collecting and managing produce from the countryside and for providing the culinary needs of the personnel and passersby to the site. The temple’s size and activities expanded in tandem with the increase in settlement size, reflecting a symbiotic relationship between the cultic and domestic spheres. 13.2.2 Lachish Area D At Lachish in the MB I, the open-air cultic space in Area D (Ussishkin 2004: 283–297; Singer-Avitz 2004: 901–913) reflects large amounts of cultic activity using miniature vessels (51%), one of which was a sevencupped bowl, and cultic stands. All of the miniature vessels were concentrated together in the area of the 96
Regarding the “miniature ingots”, I am unaware of ingots in this form at this time. I only know of LB and later examples. I would therefore be cautious in assuming these are mimicking metal oxhide ingots in a symbolic ritualistic effort to miniaturize a symbol of metal industry (cf. Falconer and Fall 2006: Fig. 6.7).
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altar. A head-shaped vase was also recovered from the site, possibly having functioned as a status symbol used in a cultic context. Consumption was also attested, although only 21% of the assemblage was composed of bowls. Cooking pots made up 8% of the assemblage and storage jars accounted for 13% of the assemblage, indicating activities involving food preparation and storage were also conducted in the area. Although the boundaries of the cultic space remain undefined, the activities in this MB I cultic site reflect large amounts of cultic activity involving ritual that used miniature vessels, a seven-cupped bowl, and cultic stands. Food preparation and storage is also better attested than at many Canaanite cultic sites, echoing the trends noted at Nahariya. This might be indicative of open-air cultic sites in general which seem to exhibit more food preparation and storage than at other urban sites. During the MB, these activities were accompanied by extremely high frequency of miniature vessels as well, a trend noted in MB cultic contexts at Nahariya, Tel Haror (see below), Megiddo (see Loud 1948: Pls. 14: 21–22,30, 16:12,16–18,21, 19:19, 117: 8–11, 118:17, especially those found from cultic precinct, Area BB, in Stratum XIIIB Locus 4009), Givat Sharett (Bahat 1975: 66–67), and possibly Shiloh and Shechem (Bunimovitz and Finkelstein 1993: 87, 92; Cole 1984: 60, Pl. 19: d–g). The sanctuary from Tel Nami, discussed below, also reflects similar traits of higher quantities of storage and food preparation. Together, these sites indicate that open-air cultic spaces and nonurban shrines functioned differently than other temples. Specifically, they required more on-site storage and food preparation. 13.2.3 Tel Haror At Tel Haror, the most visible activity types were cultic activity using miniature vessels and cultic stands (Katz 2009: 42–58, 61–67, Tables 1–8).97 Miniature vessels ranged from 21% of the assemblage in Stratum IV to 43% of the assemblage in Stratum V, while cultic stands ranged from 16% of the Stratum IV assemblage to 7% in Stratum V. In every stratum, vessels related to cult comprised over one-third of the assemblage, and in Stratum V, 50% of the overall assemblage was cultic in nature. Further, there is a good deal of evidence for consumption as well. Bowls, goblets and chalices consistently comprised nearly one-third of the assemblage and other vessels used for serving (e.g. juglets, jugs) comprised nearly 10% in every stratum. Cooking pots were consistently between 3–4% of the assemblages, while storage varied ranging from 10% in Stratum VI to 6% in Stratum IV and ca. 1% in Stratum V. Regarding the use of space and the distribution of these finds, almost all vessels and objects were yielded in the temple courtyard. The small and limited interior space of the temple as well as its lack of benches and other installations precluded the possibility of large amounts of activity or traffic inside. Thus, the interior of the temple was not the primary space designated for the majority of rituals and votive offerings. The shallow hearth in the center of the temple is the only remains of activity. The Fosse Temple at Lachish also had a hearth in its inner chamber. These could variously be related to food preparation, creating warmth or light or possibly to incense burning (Brandl et al. 2014: 160). Additional auxiliary units were excavated in the courtyard. Certain buildings, such as L8888, were associated with storage, while the many favissae in the temple courtyard were used for ritual interments of dogs and birds mixed with clay figurines and votive vessels (ibid.: 161). Further, the presentation of votive offerings and animal sacrifice were clearly associated with other structures (e.g. L8094, L8893) and installations (L8740) in the courtyard (ibid.: 159–165). In accordance with this study’s analysis, the excavators have discerned that the courtyard was the space in which most temple activities took place (ibid.). On the other hand, the temple interior was likely reserved only for a few privileged and socially and ritually superior individuals, was more controlled and restricted, and possibly served as a safe for keeping the (statue of the) deity and other temple administrative needs. 13.2.4 Sidon At MB Sidon, a large monumental building, poorly preserved and only partially exposed due to later activities, was possibly a multi-roomed temple (Doumet-Serhal and Shahud 2013). The precise dimensions and overall plan of the structure are not known, but the structure is estimated to being 39 m long with five rooms. Two rooms shed light on specific uses of those spaces. Room 2 had evidence of large amounts of consump97
The data from Tel Haror has largely been compiled from the work of Katz (Katz 2009: 42–58, 61–67, Tables 1–8) and Nahshoni (Nahshoni 2015). The final publication of the temple is currently being worked on.
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tion – there were 126 bowls, 69 juglets, 15 miniature vessels, 9 cooking pots, a miniature stand and a kernos. Thus, mainly consumption (57% bowls, 31% juglets) was attested with no evidence of storage, limited food preparation (4% cooking pots) and the rest vessels related to cultic activity (about 7%). However, also found in the room was an exceptionally large number of lamps (598) accounting for over 72% of the assemblage. The excavators attributed this to the room either having no windows or to rituals having been conducted at night (ibid.). This large number of lamps could also be understood as having formed part of a unique ritual or as a type of votive offering. Whereas no storage was attested in Room 2, Room 5 had ample amounts of storage, with nearly a quarter of the room’s assemblage composed of storage jars. The main activity from the room was consumption (67% bowls) and in addition, limited amounts of cultic activity (4 miniature bowls, sherds of a cultic stand). Thus, the data from this site demonstrates that the main activity type was consumption, although with a unique attestation of massive amounts of lamps. Room 5 also had evidence of storage. Different spaces were therefore used for different activities. Although much information about the site is still unknown, the preliminary data has enabled a controlled analysis of the distribution of different types of activities that were performed in at least two of the rooms from the monumental building at Sidon. 13.2.5 Tell el-Dab‘a The ceramics from the MB temple complex at Tell el-Dab‘a have not been published, but the offering pits from the courtyard facing the entrance to the Temple III (the migdal temple, Section 4.4.7) have been dealt with in detail (Müller 2002; 2008). Twelve pits with a total of 2221 vessels were found in the temple courtyard, ranging in size and quantities of vessels. The activities overwhelmingly reflect consumption and serving. Overall, bowls, goblets, jugs, beaker jars and juglets account for 57% of the assemblage.98 On the other hand, longer-term storage is only represented by 2% of the overall assemblage and food preparation is under 2%. Specifically, cultic vessels account for about 4% of the assemblage. These cultic vessels in fact appear to be for the most part typical of other assemblages as well, although there is evidence of a rhyton, kernoi and cup-and-saucers, amongst other rare types in the pits. Based on the ceramic assemblages alone, there was very little inherent cultic character (Müller 2002: 278–279). Müller indicates that the types and forms of vessels from the offering pits do not differ much from those found in the rest of the settlement. Thus, the vessels significantly resemble generally mundane household forms that were used for the serving and consumption of food and liquids with the addition of miniature vessels and a limited amount of evidence of other possible activities such as incense burning and libations (ibid.: 270). Müller also indicates that many of the vessels were whole and that there was a mixture of animal bones, ash, and burnt pottery fragments from the pits. The animal bones, many of which were burnt, were composed of 92% cattle, in contrast to under 50% in the rest of the settlement (ibid.: 280). The assemblage also differs from those in other settings in that vessels for food preparation and storage were few and imports, generally abundantly attested at the site, were very rare in the offering pits (ibid.: 279). Thus, these pits reflect activities which largely revolved around immediate consumption with limited amounts of storage, food preparation and cultic activities. Although it is unclear to what extent these offering pits represent the overall repertoire of the temple activities, the assemblages suggest that the activities in the courtyard that led to the vessels’ final deposition revolved around consumption, likely as parts of large feasts.
13.3 LB Cultic Sites 13.3.1 Lachish Acropolis Temple The assemblage from the Stratum VI Acropolis Temple at Lachish indicates that temple activities included large amounts of consumption and limited amounts of storage and food preparation (Clamer 2004). Other activities indicated by the temple assemblage include ritual related to the use of cup-and-saucers (at least four were recovered) and at least one fenestrated cultic stand in addition to other objects such as two separate clay feet of zoomorphic figurines, the gold plaque depicting a naked female deity standing atop an armored horse and a worked astragalus. Further, graffiti likely depicting a Canaanite god was found on a stone slab in Room 98
This percentage is likely higher, since a number of the miniature vessels, 11.2% of the assemblage, were likely functional, and 28% of the assemblage was noted as varia, raising the possibility of more vessels for consumption in those categories.
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3161. Additionally, the temple yielded prestige objects in the form of ivories, glass inlays, decorated ostrich eggs, faience, alabaster and limestone vessels and a scarab, as well as objects related to personal adornment such as beads, pendants, rings and earrings. Objects related to production include a number of flint blades, a flint sickle, a basalt bowl, a pestle, a clay whorl, a bone spatula and a bronze chisel. The assemblage’s strong affinity for consumption is evident: the majority of the vessels were bowls (67%), including 14 imports (8% of the bowls). Strikingly, this large proportion of bowls, and the low proportions of cooking pots (4% overall) and storage jars (6% overall), is remarkably consistent throughout the various rooms. Thus, even Room 3162, a side room which has been interpreted as a storeroom, had 66% bowls, although storage jars were slightly better represented (8%) and two well-preserved storage jars along with six jar stands were yielded. In fact, the only two goblets, and possible chalice, from the temple were recovered in this room. Further, the largest cache of small finds composed mainly of prestige objects and objects for personal adornment were recovered from this room. Thus, as a storeroom, this room appears to have functioned as storage not just for foodstuffs but for temple equipment as well as for storing votive offerings that had been brought to the temple. Further, outside the temple and just south of the cella was a favissa, L3027 Lower. Not only did this pit preserve temple vessels, but the overall assemblage, in terms of percentages, strongly resembles the temple interior (68% bowls, 4% cooking pots, ca. 6% storage jars). The pit also had the only two imported white-shaved juglets and had two cup-and-saucers and the worked astragalus. Thus, this temple reflects the larger patterns from most other Canaanite temples. It seems to have served as a venue for large amounts of consumption, with much more limited evidence related to storage, food preparation, activities involving the use of prestige objects and objects for personal adornment, and very limited evidence of objects specifically related to cult. Cup-and-saucers, which were well attested at the Fosse Temple, continued to be used in this later LB temple at Lachish. On the other hand, no scoops were found. Some of the iconography from the temple suggests the identity of specific deities that were worshipped, including the gold plaque of the female deity, possibly Qedeshet, Astarte, Anat or Asherah (Clamer 2004: 1314–1320, Fig. 21.21:4), as well as the incised graffiti possibly depicting Reshef (Ussishkin 2004: 259– 260, Figs. 6.57–6.58). The Acropolis Temple therefore is an important instance of a temple with a unique architectural plan based on Egyptian prototypes (similar to those at Beth Shean) yet exhibiting activity types found throughout other Canaanite temples and the worship of seemingly local Levantine/Semitic deities. This might indicate that temple architecture does not necessarily reflect the types of activities that were carried out inside the edifices. 13.3.2 Beth Shean, Temple 58066 Temple 58066 functioned during a period of impoverished settlement at Beth Shean during the LB I (Mullins and Mazar 2007: 112–128). It is possible that this temple was an isolated sanctuary atop the mound at a time when there was very little, if any, permanent settlement (ibid.: 138–139), although a few undefined structures, walls, installations and open areas with courtyards to the north, west and south were uncovered in the direct vicinity of the temple as well (ibid.: 128–135). The temple’s interior space was essentially composed of three main units, an entrance hall, a main hall, and an inner hall. In addition, two side chambers were abutting the west side of the main hall (cf. Section 4.8.2.1). The main activity types from the temple interior were consumption (54% bowls) and storage (17% storage jars), with limited evidence for food preparation and votive offerings in the form of objects of prestige (a faience bowl, bronze arrowhead and scarab were recovered from the entrance hall while a bronze figurine leg, a faience game piece and a faience decorated disk were recovered from the main hall). The limited finds from the entrance hall suggest it was a space for consumption and for placing votive offerings upon entering the temple (only bowls, a faience bowl, an arrowhead and a scarab were recovered from the hall). The benches and plastered platforms in the main hall suggest that this was the focal point of ritual activity involving the presenting of offerings. However, the assemblage from the room was composed of 36% storage jars and indicates that storage was also conducted in the room.99 The only miniature vessel from the temple was also recovered in this room. Further, 9% of the assemblage was composed of cooking pots, although no hearths or ovens were detected in the room suggesting that cooking was not actually con-
99
The side chambers, which had 8 ceramic jar stands, have also been suggested as additional space for storage.
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ducted in the main hall. An oven located in the open-air space outside the temple indicates that cooking was conducted outside the temple. The main hall also yielded the largest number of prestige objects (four in total) and included one imported Cypriot Monochrome bowl, a bronze figurine leg, a faience game piece and a decorated faience disk. Games might have been related to ritual, and the leg of the figurine is evidence that metal figurines were used or offered at the temple. The inner cell was largely lacking in finds. Thus, Temple 58066 seems to exhibit activity types that mainly revolved around consumption and votive offerings, with certain spaces designated for storage as well. The data, although somewhat limited, reflects the general trend of over half the assemblage composed of bowls with more limited evidence of storage and particularly limited evidence of food preparation. Actual evidence for cultic activity and ritual was very limited and only attested in the main hall with the miniature vessel and possibly the gaming piece and figurine leg. Although limited, storage was higher than in many other cultic sites. The sparsely settled nature of the site in the LB I would have necessitated more localized effort on the part of the temple to store and provide foodstuffs and liquids to be consumed during rituals at the temple. 13.3.3 Tel Nami This short section on Tel Nami will only deal with the overall assemblage yielded from and around the LB temple structure located in Area G at the summit of the tell. This analysis is based on a preliminary typological study of the ceramics, conducted by Stidsing. Further conversations with Stidsing and Artzy have enabled me to analyze the material in some detail that has not been done previously (thus and what follows, Stidsing and Artzy, personal communications, 2017). Although not yet set into its stratified context, and the temple does indeed appear to have experienced possibly two short phases of use during the late LB, the assemblage reflects large amounts of consumption with over 60% of the assemblage composed of bowls, and nearly twothirds of the assemblage overall was composed of bowls, goblets and chalices (if the latter related to consumption). Storage is well attested as well, with 14% of the assemblage made up of storage jars. In addition, nearly 6% of the assemblage was composed of cooking pots. Both of these latter statistics are relatively high in comparison to most temples that have been analyzed in this study. Jugs (over 3%) and juglets (2%) were also recovered from the site, as well as a good deal of single-spouted lamps (over 4%). Very few imports were recovered from the temple and include Cypriot100 and Aegean-type wares (Artzy 2006: 51–52).101 Artzy has also suggested that there was possible evidence of metal production at the site: scrap metal, metal working tools including tweezers and chisels, and parts of crucibles with traces of metal on them were found around the temple (Artzy 1995: 23–25). A small portion of the assemblage, 2.4%, was composed of vessels related to cultic activity. These include a number of miniature and ersatz vessels, four fragmentary cultic stands, a seven-spouted lamp, one cup-andsaucer and two kernoi.102 A number of short and long trumpet bases, mainly of chalices and goblets, but possibly of kraters as well, were also interpreted as being a part of the cultic repertoire at the site (Artzy 1994: 125). Also recovered from the temple area were pumice associated with conical cups, a conch shell, gold and silver earrings, gold and silver pendants, and glass and carnelian beads. The gold pendant depicts a goddess with intertwined snake legs, an artistic motif known from Mitannian-style royal seals. A few bronze arrowheads and possible spears were found in the courtyard area outside the temple (Artzy 1995: 22–23). In addition, a large basalt basin, similar to those recovered from Hazor, was recovered from the center of the shrine, partly slid down from a large stone “drum” that had been sunk into the floor of the room.103 A similar basin was recovered from Megiddo in Area CC, originally not published and recently reanalyzed by Guillaume, who interprets the basin as an apparatus for games involving dice or astragali, both of which were likely 100
Cypriot imports include White Slip, Base Ring, Plain White Wheel-made Ware, White-Shaved Ware and Monochrome. 101 Stidsing has additionally analyzed a number of sherds from the site that are either imported Egyptian or otherwise Egyptianizing wares. 102 In fact, some vessels cultic in nature have been recovered from earlier MB contexts at the site, such as two other multi-spouted lamps. It would be interesting to investigate if this might signify some form of continuity or traditionalism in cultic practices, or equipment, between the MB and LB at the site. 103 Stidsing has suggested that the larger room was possibly an open courtyard, but has yet to determine whether it was indeed roofed or not (Stidsing, personal communication, 2017). This would of course have interesting implications for the setting of ritual that would have been related to the use of the basin.
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related to cult (Guillaume 2013: 1111–1112, Fig: 24.9). A number of pits, all empty and sometimes cutting into one another, were detected around the exterior of the sanctuary. These pits might have been directly related to the ritual activity at the temple and recall the many favissae that were associated with most other Canaanite temples. Some of the favissae from other temples have also been found empty (e.g. Tel Mevorakh, Lachish Fosse Temple). The temple at Tel Nami seems to have functioned in the late LB IIB, during the 13th century B.C.E. and was in use for a short period until its destruction at the onset of the 12th century B.C.E., contemporaneous with the destruction of Ugarit (Artzy 2006: 50). Even if permanently settled at the time that the temple was in use, the extent of the settlement on site had to have been extremely small considering that the construction of the LB rampart diminished the occupational space of the already small mound (Artzy 1995: 22). To date, no other contemporary settlement in the close vicinity has been detected.104 Given the large number of bowls and indications of large amounts of consumption, the sanctuary likely served the needs of more than just the local community, if there were indeed permanent inhabitants at the site other than temple personnel. Artzy has demonstrated that there was a wealth of traditions at the site influenced by various foreign spheres, including Cyprus, Minoan Crete, Mitanni and Hatti, along with likely coastal connections to the north with sites as far north as Ugarit in Syria. Thus, it is no surprise for such an international appearance to the assemblage at the site. Additionally, the nearby LB necropolis at Nami East exhibited an amalgamation of burial practices, clearly having been influenced by foreign traditions, if not burials of foreigners themselves. In fact, a number of cultic vessels were recovered from these burials as well (Artzy 1995: 25–29). Artzy has argued that Tel Nami was a strategic harbor site functioning as both a maritime and land trading point on a route connecting the coast to the much more significant site of Megiddo by providing direct access through the Me‘arot River (Artzy 2006: 51) and even possibly as being involved in long-distance incense trade (Artzy 1994). It therefore seems that a lot of foreign traffic was constantly funneling through Tel Nami, possibly conducting trade on site before moving on to other sites further inland where more significant trade would have taken place. In fact, a large variety of storage jars from the area of the shrine were analyzed, a number of which had knobbed and stump bases characteristic of transport amphorae not necessarily used for domestic purposes (Stidsing, personal communication, 2017). This supports the notion of vessels, and therefore people, constantly passing through the LB site. In tandem with Tel Nami functioning as a crossroads for traders, it also apparently provided a space for cultic activity, one which attests to large amounts of consumption. The largely isolated nature of the temple might account for why relatively large quantities of storage jars and cooking pots were found at and around the temple. All of the activities involved in and enabling the act of consumption would have had to have been conducted on site. This is in stark contrast to urban temples, for example, where other structures throughout the city might have been used for ancillary activities such as food storage and food preparation as well as different forms of production. At Tel Nami, however, all of these activities had to have taken place in the immediate vicinity of the temple and were thus immensely more integral to the daily activities of the temple, similar the situation at MB Nahariya. It is also likely that activities directly related to storage and food preparation were mainly outdoor and courtyard activities given the small interior space of the sanctuary itself. This does not preclude the possibility of some limited storage inside the temple, and indeed, a few of the storage jars were recovered from the temple interior. However, the temple’s main function would have been for conducting ritual activities, presenting votive offerings, and for activities revolving around consumption. Consumption could have been compounded with larger amounts of people partaking in consumption outside in the much more spacious exterior. With the publication of the material in full, a more thorough and diachronic discussion will be possible as well.
13.4 Discussion and Conclusions: Trends in Canaanite Cultic Sites This data from these additional MB and LB temples reflects a number of general trends already indicated in the case studies. However, more nuanced variation was also detectable in some of these additional examples. Consumption was generally the major activity, but in certain temples, like Tell el-Hayyat (MB), Lachish Area D (MB), Temple 58066 at Beth Shean (LB) and Tel Nami (LB), more storage activity was noted on
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Artzy has indicated she suspects there was yet another site, an LBIIB/C site somewhere in the vicinity, possibly under the sand dunes north of the site near the river’s actual outlet (Artzy, personal communication, 2017).
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site. These sites were all non-urban. In order to conduct ritual and consumption within those spaces, the temples themselves were required to take on a more active and central role in storage. At Tell el-Hayyat in particular, large quantities of cooking pots were recovered, suggesting food preparation was an important activity within the temple precinct. Again, this might relate to the temple’s rural location, possibly isolated in its earliest phases, and as a small cult center that was required to provide cooked foods for ritual participants partaking in commensal consumptive activities. These studies additionally highlighted that in certain cases, temple assemblages reflect those of household trends. In those instances, there is specific and controlled nuanced differentiation between the domestic and cultic spaces which seem best explained by the existence of strictures and ritual rules dictating what was, and was not, considered permissible within the sacred space. Thus, at Tell el-Dab‘a, the pits largely reflected domestic assemblages. However, cattle made up 92% of the faunal remains in contrast to under 50% of the faunal remains from domestic parts of the settlement. Cattle was clearly favored in the temple context, contrasting from non-cultic domains. Further, imports were highly attested at the site yet were markedly absent from the pit assemblages. Again, there was an intentional avoidance of the use and integration of ceramic imports within the Tell el-Dab‘a sacred space. Similarly, at Tell el-Hayyat, the large amounts of overlap between the cultic and non-cultic spaces indicates the extent that cult permeated non-temple settings. Religion and religious activity were not localized to the temple. However, the temple exhibited a heightened level of sanctity, indexed in the most expensive votive offerings from the site being found within the temple itself. These temples have further demonstrated that in the MB, cultic spaces more frequently specialized in the use of special ceramic vessels for ritual purposes (e.g. miniature vessels, cultic stands). The assemblage from the Stratum XV favissa in the Area A Southern Temple at Hazor further demonstrates a primary focus on the use of miniature and other rare ceramic vessels from an MB, or MB/LB transitional context (cf. Weinblatt 2017: 243–245). In the LB, this focus became less apparent. The LB temples analyzed in this chapter did not have large percentages of ritual or cultic vessels. However, the Fosse Temple as well as the rich and diverse assemblage from Building 7050 at Hazor demonstrate that in the LB, assemblages from cultic complexes at times exhibited large amounts of prestige objects as well as vessels related to ritual. Another LB temple not dealt with in this study from Hazor, the Northern Temple in Area A, supports these general trends. Although limited in exposure due to the remains of the Solomonic gate above, the assemblage consisted mainly of simple bowls, miniature bowls and stands with little evidence for storage jars and cooking pots (Bonfil 1997: 98–99). This is further echoed by Epstein’s observations from the Area BB temple at Megiddo (Epstein 1965: 209–212).
Chapter 14 Household Activity Types This chapter addresses the following question: how does the use of space within Canaanite temples compare to and contrast from the use of space within domestic structures? Thus, this chapter will investigate household assemblages in order to demonstrate that the behavioral patterns noted in temples were distinctly different than those in domestic spaces. Daviau’s study suggested that for domestic settings, assemblages resembling consumption and food preparation could be composed of 46% bowls, 3% cooking tray/oven, 20% cooking pots, 13% storage jars, 13% jugs/juglets, and 5% other. In general terms, therefore, households exhibit evidence of consumption and significant amounts of storage and food preparation. It would be of interest to test this against data from southern Levantine domestic structures. Refer to Fig. 14.1 for the following examples below. While the following structures could be further categorized into sub-types such as plain domestic or patrician houses, for example, the effort here is to identify the general trends throughout domestic spaces.
14.1 Hazor, Area C (MB III): Household Activities In Stratum 3 in Area C at Hazor (MB III), a few domestic structures were exposed. The southern-most complex, Building 6205, was a multi-roomed corner house with a large central rectangular courtyard (Yadin et al. 1960: 76–91, Pls. CIX–CXV, CCVII). The overall assemblage from the house contained only 27% bowls, while 17% of the assemblage was cooking pots and baking trays, 24% was storage jars and 14% jugs (Table XV). From any given room, the highest concentration of bowls came from Room 6203 (50%). On the other hand, the courtyard comprised only 26% bowls, while 32% of the assemblage was storage jars and another 16% were vessels related to cooking. Further evidence of food preparation in the courtyard is visible in the oven, millstones and basalt bowl that the courtyard yielded. Entrance Room 6191 was also furnished with an oven indicating an additional location for preparing and cooking food. Accordingly, the cooking pots in Room 6203 were probably not actually used in that room for cooking but were rather brought there after the cooking took place elsewhere and then its contents distributed. It is also possible that the cooking pots were simply being stored in that room. Thus, Building 6205 exhibits strong evidence for long-term storage and food preparation, with more limited evidence of consumption.
14.2 LB and Iron Age Southern Levantine Household Activities Recent studies from LB and Iron Age contexts demonstrate similar trends. At LB Tel Batash, a ceramic analysis of two superimposed LB domestic buildings demonstrated that the earlier structure, Building 475, had 23% bowls, 16% cooking pots, 23% storage jars, and 14% jugs, with very few examples of other vessels such as chalices, kraters, juglets, lamps and other forms, while the later structure, Building 315, was composed of 27% bowls, 12% cooking pots, 15% storage jars, and 13% jugs, with very few examples of chalices, goblets, kraters, juglets, lamps and other forms. Even in specific rooms with larger assemblages, there were relatively low percentages of bowls and other vessels associated with immediate consumption and serving such as juglets (Panitz-Cohen 2011: 87–93, Table 1). An emphasis seems to have been placed on storage and food preparation in ways not noted in temple assemblages for the most part. Panitz-Cohen also notes that the lack of cooking installations in either of the structures’ interiors would suggest that the act of cooking itself was conducted in the outdoor courtyard (ibid.: 91). Similarly, in Iron Age contexts, domestic assemblages exhibit similar trends. An Iron Age I courtyard building from Level K-4 (Stratum VIA) at Megiddo demonstrated strong attestations of storage and cooking ware, with low percentages of bowls, goblets and chalices (Table XVI). According to Arie’s assessment (Arie 2006), the overall assemblage was composed of only 13% bowls, while cooking pots were 13% and storage jars and pithoi were over 41%. Within any given room, bowls comprised under 20% of the assemblage, excluding Room 98/K/46 which had 50% bowls (although a small assemblage, only ten total vessels were yielded in the room). On the other hand, a number of rooms had 50% or more storage (Room 00/K/51 had 86% storage jars and pithoi), and cooking had a range, with as little as 6% in Room 00/K/45 and as much as 36% in Room 98/K/70. Arie, as well as Gadot and Yasur-Landau (2006), have suggested variegated uses of different space throughout the complex based on the distribution of vessels, small finds and installations. These spaces included areas for food preparation (98/K/70), long-term storage (98/K/77 and 00/K/51) as well
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as other activities such as living or work space. Gadot and Yasur-Landau further connected the architecture and activities to the thought processes of the inhabitants. These trends continue later in the Iron Age. Within Israelite houses at Iron Age IIB Tel Beersheba, the highest percentage of bowls was under 40% (Singer-Avitz 2011: 297–298, Table 1) and at Iron IIB Tell Naṣbeh, bowls were consistently under 50% of the assemblages and mainly between one- to two-fifths of the assemblage, while activities involving food preparation, and especially storage were well attested in many rooms of houses (Brody 2011: 243–250, Tables 1–2). In a number of rooms, in fact, storage vessels account for over half and sometimes nearly two-thirds of the entire assemblage. To compare these Iron Age domestic assemblages to cultic ones, the site of Tell Qasile is of particular use (Mazar 1985: 21–31, Table 2). Regarding complete vessels, the percentage of bowls in Stratum XII Temple 319 was 83% (15 bowls of 18 total vessels). Similarly, Stratum XI Temple 200 had 78% bowls (54 out of 69 total vessels). Pit 125, the favissa, was found with 49 complete vessels, 37 of which were bowls (76%), and reflects the percentage of bowls in the likely contemporary Stratum XI temple. On the other hand, very few storage jars come from the temples themselves. It seems in order to complement the temple activities which did not include much storage, additional spaces were needed and evidently used for such activities. Thus, in Stratum X, Building 225 abutting the two contemporary shrines was constructed, apparently functioning as a large storehouse with a very different assemblage than the temples themselves: only four bowls were yielded out of 111 total vessels. Of the building’s vessels, 75 were storage jars (68%), reflecting significant amounts of long-term storage providing the temples’ and settlement’s needs.
14.3 Trends in Activity Types Outside of the Southern Levant 14.3.1 LB Domestic and Temple Contexts at Tell Kazel Although unpublished, the LB site of Tell Kazel in Lebanon provides additional data supporting these noted trends. In domestic contexts, large amounts of storage were attested (Capet 2006–2007: 192, 194). This contrasts with the multi-phased temple at the site. In the temple’s Phase 6 cella, the assemblage was composed primarily of vessels related to consumption and serving with no mention of storage or food preparation. In addition, the use and deposition of prestige objects is evident in a number of luxury objects and vessels from the cella (Badre and Gubel 1999–2000: 139–142).105 More frequent activity was noted in the courtyard, both in terms of the quantity of goods as well as diversity of types and forms yielded. Again, the primary focus was on consumption, on the one hand, and ritual activity (many cultic stands and miniature vessels) and the deposition of prestige objects (large number of imports, many bronze sheet figurines, faience objects) on the other hand (ibid.: 145–153). However, in one corner of the courtyard, ten storage jars and a pithos were recovered, indicating the space was additionally utilized for storage (ibid.: 152). Two identifiable activities were noted by the excavators: the peculiar deposition of a single or pair of sheet metal figurines in White Shaved juglets (ibid.: 149–150); and the intentional preservation and burial, or foundational deposition, of a number of intact vessels and luxury items from an earlier phase beneath the upper Phase 6 surface of the courtyard (ibid.: 144–145). While the Phase 5 cella appears to have functioned similarly to the previous phase, the back room to the east demonstrates large amounts of storage: 19 storage jars and five pithoi were recovered (ibid.: 172–174). This evidence from Tell Kazel clearly shows different use of different spaces through time at the temple and includes storage in open spaces as well as in smaller side rooms of the temple itself. Thus, the interior space of the temple was primarily concerned with consumption and presenting votive offerings while the outdoor space was used for more variegated purposes. 14.3.2 Tall Bazi on the Euphrates (LB) Although further afield and part of a different cultural sphere along the Euphrates, the LB settlement at Tall Bazi is of interest for this study. Tall Bazi provides a unique example of a site where multiple houses have been analyzed in terms of their architecture and inventory due to the sudden destruction by fire which preserved many of the site’s houses and intact vessels, in situ (Otto 2015). The nearly complete uncovering of House 43 has provided a controlled study of the distribution of vessels and suggested corresponding use of 105
These include bronze objects, luxury faience vessels, beads, a bone game box and game pieces, the fist of a bronze figurine and two basalt mortars (Badre and Gubel 1999–2000: 139–142).
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the space within the house (Einwag and Otto 2001). The house largely resembles the site’s other houses in terms of its layout as well as the assemblage. It measured approximately 22 x 10 m, consisting of a main rectangular room, at one point in time partitioned into two on the northern end, and six nearly identical side chambers to the east. Additionally, outdoor courtyard space was partially exposed to the west, between the house and the rest of the lower town (Einwag and Otto 2001: 66–82, Figs. 2–12). The assemblage within House 43 strongly indicates that storage and food preparation were major activities, of which 20% overall was composed of large storage jars in addition to 23% overall small jars or large jugs and 13% overall kraters, as well as the 9% cooking pots.106 Only 25% of the overall assemblage was composed of vessels that could have been immediately used for consumption, the majority of which were small bottles and bowls. The largest concentration of vessels was located in the main room, Room H, which contained a total of 31 restorable vessels as well as an oven, a nearby bench, a raised altar and a large stone basin amongst other installations. Although consumption was clearly conducted in this room as this would have been the main space for such familial activities (23% is composed of small bottles for drinking, two flat platters, one high-necked bowl and one hemispheric bowl), food preparation indicated by five cooking pots (16%) and the oven, as well as storage indicated by five large storage jars (16%) and eight large jugs and small jars (26%), were performed in the main room as well. Four extremely deep and exceptionally large bowls or kraters (13%) were recovered as well, which could have been used for either storage or food preparation (ibid.: Figs. 5, 6). The excavators suggest that one of the small jars sunk into the ground next to the altar and covered by one of the small bowls is evidence of household ritual involving libations (Otto 2012: 184). Other non-ceramic objects yielded in the room include stone weights, a cylinder seal, and jewelry (Einwag and Otto 2001: 70–72). North of the partition wall, Room H exhibited slightly different trends. Of the 12 total vessels recovered, there were four small bottles likely used for drinking (33%), four large bowls or kraters, one massive one which was twice the size of the others (33%), one cooking pot (8%), one large storage jar (8%) and a large pilgrim flask and a handleless jar (17%). The other side rooms were mainly used for storage, and the three vessels from the courtyard (Areas 101 and 102) were all large storage jars. Taken as representative of the general trends within household assemblages at Tall Bazi, House 43 demonstrates that the main rooms within these domestic structures were multi-functional spaces in which cooking and storage took place as well as consumption. In addition, other objects such as the stone weights suggest that business transactions might have been conducted as well, and as indicated above, it is possible that household rituals were also performed. On the other hand, the side rooms seem to have been mainly used for storage, but not food preparation or consumption. It has additionally been suggested that on the upper storey the grinding of barley or malt might have taken place and that brewing of beer was a typical household activity noted in every house at the site as well (Otto 2012: 181). Tall Bazi also had a contemporary LB temple. There was significant overlap evident in the mundane activities and ritual practices in the site’s houses and temple, respectively (Otto 2012). The temple was composed largely of vessels related to consumption and objects reflecting large-scale dedicatory offerings (ibid.: 186–190), lacking much evidence of vessels related to food and drink preparation. This indicates these latter activities were conducted elsewhere and were not a basic concern of temple activities. It is likely that storage and food preparation were conducted in the domestic spaces below the temple. In addition, there seem to have been special culinary rules that dictated what was acceptable to be offered and consumed in the temple, contrasting from the more diverse foodstuffs found in the site’s domestic spaces.
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This analysis is based on data provided primarily in Einwag and Otto’s 2001 article, with some subsequent notes from later articles added. Since their typology, morphology and corresponding terminology varies somewhat from that of the southern Levant, I have done my best to accurately attribute the various vessel forms from the site to match those from the sites of the MB and LB in the southern Levant which I have analyzed.
Chapter 15 Canaanite Activities in Cultic Spaces 15.1 Understanding the Activities Conducted within Canaanite Temples In her reexamination of the Temple 2048 stratigraphy in Area BB at Megiddo, Epstein already noted that the assemblages in the loci around the temple lacked cooking and storage, and were composed mainly of bowls, chalices, stands, lamps and a wealth of other prestige objects (Epstein 1965: 209–212). She was echoing observations already made at Lachish (Tufnell et al. 1940). However, these early studies made no attempt to either develop a methodology for quantifying these observations or to explore the implications of specific types of assemblages regarding the activities and rituals that took place inside the temples. The application of the methodology presented in Part III has proved to be a constructive and fruitful endeavor. Indeed, it has helped to identify specific types of activities that consistently recurred in cultic spaces during the MB and LB. In a very systematic manner, the case studies and other temples analyzed in Part III support these insightful observations. The use of my activity types rubric has also identified unique divergences amongst different temples. Consumption was often the main activity type at sites. In the MB, there was more variation amongst activity types, with certain sites having extremely large quantities of cultic vessels while Tell el-Hayyat specifically had exceptionally ample evidence for food preparation and storage. During the LB, there was generally less of a focus on specialized use of cultic vessels, and certain sites demonstrated more storage capabilities (e.g. Tel Nami, Beth Shean). Other nuanced variation was detected, such as a significant decrease in the use of miniature vessels during the LB, and the later LB appearance of certain vessels with assumed cultic function such as cup-and-saucers and scoops. It was also noted that juglets were sometimes found in large clusters together, such as at Lachish Fosse Temple I and at Tel Mevorakh Stratum XI, only to decrease in abundance in later strata, possibly signifying a shift in activities within the temples. Some of the variations might be due to chronological or regional factors, while others might have to do with the nature of the site as being urban or non-urban, built-up or open-air, or independent of or possibly controlled by urban elites or authorities within or beyond the vicinity of the site itself. With regards to the disappearance of miniature vessels, or the appearance of cup-and-saucers and scoops, these seem to be vessels that went in and out of use over time. A further regional observation is that cup-and-saucers were overwhelmingly recovered in the south and along the coast, with only one from a temple context in the north from Hazor. Regarding storage and food preparation, larger and urban temples (e.g. at Hazor and Lachish) generally did not have significant interior space for either activities, while smaller and often rural or completely isolated sites (Nahariya, Tell el-Hayyat, Lachish Area D, Beth Shean Temple 58066, Tel Nami) had more indications of cooking and storage on site. The smaller and more isolated sanctuaries would have had to take on the additional responsibility of all activities, not just consumption, in order to successfully function as a space for consumption and ritual activity. In contrast, urban temples relied on ancillary activities taking place in the surrounding built-up settlement. Thus, not all of these activities – like storage and food preparation – were required to take place directly in or around the temple (cf. Section 14.3.2).
15.2 The Contrast between Activities in Cultic Spaces Versus Domestic Spaces This study has identified both the general trends of Canaanite temple activities as well as the flexibility of what those activities could be within cultic contexts. In fact, in many cases, temple activities reflect mundane and domestic activities. It is often the context and quantities of activities, mixed with other less frequent cultic activities, that typify cultic spaces. The comparative chapter on household activities demonstrated the large amounts of storage and food preparation found in every well-excavated domestic structure analyzed. Whereas consumption was important in commensal activities for small groups of people on the family and household level, in temples, consumption took on a much more significant role. The focus in households on storage and food preparation indicates the reality of the daily concerns of survival and sustenance. A household survives by its members sustaining it. Without regularly consistent efforts to constantly perform all necessary activities in household contexts, the household could not survive. Temples, at their core, did not have the same set of mundane concerns of survival and sustenance that domestic households had.
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15.3 The Use of Space in Other Ancient Near Eastern Temples This focus on consumption as the primary activity in Canaanite temples also stands in contrast to temples from around the ANE. For example, temples in Mesopotamia functioned as social and economic institutions and can be understood as an extension of a large estate or household. Mesopotamian temples had ample space and evidence for food preparation and storage and from the earliest evidence, they functioned as large estates with ownership over property, land, large surpluses of grain and livestock (Robertson 1995: 444–448). Similarly, Egyptian temples were frequently equipped with storerooms to facilitate extensive storage capabilities for storing produce from temple-owned farmlands (cf. Kemp 1989: 191–197). Hittite temples, too, were large religious complexes with workshops, archives, storage and service areas and living quarters, possibly functioning as independent economic units and institutions involved in controlling agricultural supplies and surpluses (Hundley 2013: 95–96; cf. Singer 1998). The analyses conducted in Part III therefore indicate very different patterns of behavior and uses of space in southern Levantine temples. Just as Part II demonstrated temple layouts in the southern Levant differed both from other ANE temple architecture as well as from local domestic architectural traditions, Part III has demonstrated that the use of cultic space in the southern Levant differed both from the activities observed in other temples from around the ANE as well as from the use of space within local contemporary household contexts.
15.4 Ritual, Ritualization, and Activities in Canaanite Cultic Spaces In the methodology presented in Chapter 7, it was pointed out that Bell and others have referred to the process by which cultic practices are largely patterned on mundane activities as ritualization (Bell 1992: 88–93). On the one hand, Part III has demonstrated paralleled actions between mundane and sacred contexts. Many of the activity types and objects found in temples reflect in some way domestic assemblages. Even the vessels most typically identified as being cultic have been found in non-temple settings. Thus, on a very basic level, activities in temples could be considered as having been modeled after mundane activities. For example, consumption was performed in temples as well as in domestic spaces. Thus, in quite an elementary yet fundamental sense, recognizable actions taking place in temples were dictated by already recognizable actions from within houses. Thus, the distinction between sacred and profane might best be viewed in terms of scale – sacred spaces had more consumption. In this light, assemblages in cultic settings are hyperbolic attestations of those from domestic settings. However, other trends in temple activity types that are quite divergent from domestic ones have also been emphasized. Most of the cultic assemblages had limited evidence of food preparation and storage, particularly assemblages from temples in urban settings and with built-up edifices. In domestic settings, and in palatial settings as well, this was not the case. Storage and cooking, for example, throughout the Bronze and Iron Ages, and as demonstrated in many anthropological and ethnographic studies, were integral to the household. If that is in fact the case, and it would be logical that for the purposes of survival, those activities had very important functions, then the absence of these activity types in temples is remarkably significant. This suggests that temple activities were not solely based on those in domestic settings. Excluding the anomalous case of Tell el-Hayyat, MB and LB temples in the southern Levant do not reflect the overall activities from domestic households. As Part II already indicated, temple architecture did not reflect domestic architecture. The notion of courtyard houses does not accord with what the architecture or data of Canaanite cultic sites indicate. Once more referring to the question of whether temples should truly be perceived as houses, the general notion that these structures should be viewed in direct relation to their linguistic nomenclature – that is, a house of the deity – is not straightforward. A house is a structure in which individuals live and conduct a variety of daily affairs for the sake of the survival of the household. Households in the Bronze and Iron Ages in the southern Levant were spaces in which food was prepared and stored, in which livestock was kept, and in which ample evidence of domestic industry was visible. The notion of a house within which the deity resided, therefore, does not suit the data. Neither the architecture nor the activity types closely resemble domestic spaces.
15.5 Conclusions: The Utility of the Methodology Part III of this book set out to address aim (2), that is, what types of activities were performed within Canaanite cultic spaces. In order to do so, the underlying research question focused on determining the repertoire
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of activities conducted in different southern Levantine temples. Seven additional research questions guided the subsequent analysis in Part III. To accomplish this, I developed a methodology for identifying activity types within cultic spaces (Chapter 7). I then tested out the methodology by applying it to five cases studies (Chapters 8–12) and other cultic sites (Chapter 13). Finally, I focused on activities in domestic spaces (Chapter 14) to determine whether or not the trends noted in cultic spaces were unique, distinct, or similar to those of non-cultic spaces. Thus, it was determined that most temples had a combination of mundane and cultic activities. Consumption, for example, was commonly performed in cultic and non-cultic spaces. The large emphasis on consumption, however, in place of additional storage and food preparation, marked temple consumption as being different than consumption in other contexts. Part III determined the most commonly recurring activity types in cultic spaces, and when possible, attempted to explain divergent trends as reflective of the particular circumstances of the temples (e.g. time period, settlement type, region, geopolitical factors, etc.). After thoroughly using the activity types rubric in Part III, I was able to contrast Canaanite temple space use from the use of domestic space in the southern Levant. As it turns out, southern Levantine temples were used differently than houses, palaces, and other ANE temples.
Part IV Between Praxis and Ideology
Chapter 16 Religious Praxis 16.1 Introduction The focus of Part IV will be to achieve aim (3) of this book, why and how the activities established in Part III were conducted in the spaces defined in Part II. To accomplish this, the research questions from Section 1.3 will be asked. Thus, why was ritual activity in southern Levantine cultic spaces meaningful and how was it implemented; how did ritual relate to social and political structures; how does ritual conducted within elitecontrolled cultic spaces compare to that which was conducted in non-elite spaces; how was ritual used as a mechanism to establish and maintain social and religious differentiation while also emphasizing aspects of group cohesiveness; how was ritual that emphasized social inequality and hierarchy successfully implemented by elites, and what tools did those elites have at their disposal to legitimize the implementation of those rituals and their authority; how was ritual and ritual space administered; and how were temples and rituals integrated into the greater urban or natural landscapes? This chapter deals with Canaanite religious praxis. Praxis refers to the underlying motivations and beliefs that were behind the practices observed in Part III. Marx’s original usage of the term “praxis” referred to inherent productive and political dimensions of human activity (Bell 1997: 76). In other words, behavior was motivated by higher elements within the structure of society. A static and strictly structuralist view of human activity would see those activities as the result of strictly adhering to cultural norms and rules. However, human activities were active strategies to navigate the realities of grappling with maintaining but also changing social and cultural environments (i.e. Bourdieu 1977). It is this latter case to which I refer “praxis.” On the other hand, I refer to human activities that were more cognitively implemented by acting agents as “ideology.” In this chapter, I deal with diachronic change in cultic architecture and activities, relating changes in the settlement systems, geopolitics, socioeconomic statuses and foreign interactions and influences to this process. This survey of diachronic change takes a regional perspective. Following this discussion, I move beyond general categories of activity types and revisit what specific rituals might have been performed within cultic spaces. As it turns out, the archaeological record is particularly ambiguous with regards to the many ritual and cultic activities reflected in textual traditions (cf. Section 16.3). In particular, I analyze activities associated with blood ritual (sacrifices) that archaeologists most often try to reconstruct, including offering libations, incense burning, and the use of maṣṣebot. Both texts and archaeology are used as sources. The final section of this chapter returns to the underlying themes of Canaanite culture and social organization at large and explores how ritual, feasting and commensality, the presentation of offerings and the use of iconography were all activities that reflect Canaanite praxis, that is, dynamic actions motivated by cultural, social, political, geographic, ecological and religious subjectivities.
16.2 Diachronic Change 16.2.1 Architecture 16.2.1.1 The MB: Society, Settlement Landscapes and Cultic Architecture The MB and LB settlement history, with the chronological and typological data provided from the previous two parts, will now be revisited. The settlement history of the MB and LB in the southern Levant demonstrated both vertical and horizontal differentiation as well as processes of integration (see Yoffee 2005: 32– 33). This already began at the onset of the MB (Cohen 2016: 41–42). By Phase 2 of the MB I, large architectural projects were established in urban centers (at Akko, Ashkelon, Dan), realized in the forms of large ramparts, city walls (at Tel Poleg, Tel Gerisa, Tel Aphek, Tell Beit Mirsim, Megiddo), city gates (at YavneYam, Ashkelon), bastions or defensive guard towers (at Gezer, Tell Beit Mirsim, Tel Zeror, Megiddo, Tel Poleg) and palaces or large elite buildings (at Tel Aphek, Megiddo, Tel Ifshar) (Herzog 1997). Only later in the MB II were large urban temples constructed. The focus was on urban planning (Kempinski 1992c) and strong fortifications, suggesting that early on during the period of MB urbanization significant amounts of competition, possibly in militaristic forms, existed. This competitive nature might have been a factor in galvanizing local elites to consolidate power (whether economic, political or social) and establish large monumental architectural projects. Vertical and horizontal differentiation are both visible in this MB urbanization
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horizon via differentiated settlement sizes, differentiated building types and sizes, and an imbalance in the distribution of wealth concentrated with the elites who managed the large building projects within these bourgeoning urban centers (cf. Yasur-Landau 2011b: 61–62, 83–84). Additionally, there was clearly a shared material tradition during this period which integrated the differentiated landscape, apparent for example in the typology and morphology of ceramic, metal, and stone objects, although within ceramic forms, there were unique nuances and minute regional divergences which reflect variegated regionalized traditions (Maeir 2010: 63–128). Although nascent in their forms, the architectural projects also represent an overarching shared notion of what “building-types” could be constructed. There was a notable degree of standardization in architectural and material forms in the MB. Standardization and organization are even evident in mud-brick manufacturing (Homsher 2012) which exhibited a high degree of intra- and inter-site uniformity in the MB. Some studies have further suggested that underlying concepts of metrological units and recurring use of the same basic dimensions amongst monumental structures from different sites implies shared conceptions of metric units (Harif 1979; Milson 1987, 1989, 1992). These facts might indicate centralized management of building material and technologies, and further would require organization of labor and production. This process of integration, although not explicit in the Berlin execration texts, might be reflected therein as a time when local elites consolidated power over other local leaders, forming unified urban centers which only recently had been fragmented into differentiated tribal, ethnic or social groups with their own (different) leaders (Yasur-Landau 2011b: 61). Strikingly absent from this process was space for conducting organized religion. Although not reflected in urban settings, cult was undoubtedly practiced in this early part of the MB. As demonstrated in Part II, cultic activity was found in isolated extramural sites such as Nahariya and Tell elHayyat and in the early, non-urban MB phases at Lachish and Megiddo. At Nahariya and Lachish, and possibly Megiddo, these activities involved large amounts of ritual utilizing miniature vessels, seven-cupped bowls and cultic stands (Sections 12.1, 12.3.2.1, 13.2.2). There was also a large amount of evidence for food preparation and storage, contrasting with later tendencies in Canaanite temples. At Nahariya, a wealth of expensive votive offerings was attested. Tell el-Hayyat exhibited a different set of activities, much more closely reflecting domestic household activity types. Strikingly, cultic space was not integrated into contemporary urban centers at a time when urbanization was already well established and continuing to expand. A nuanced exception was Megiddo, which exhibited the general resilience to avoid integrating monumental temple architecture into the urban landscape at an early period. In Stratum XII, the open-air Area BB cultic precinct became controlled by local elites, evident in the construction of the large Nordburg directly to its west. The boundaries of the newly formed temenos were dictated by the walls of the Nordburg (Nigro 1994: 20–21). Thus, as Megiddo’s elites gained control over the cultic precinct, there was initially no attempt to construct monumental temple architecture. At the same time, this consolidation of power of a local ruler, family or elite was directly associated with taking control over cult at the site. From the MB I to the MB II, there was an increase in the number and ratio of small-rank to large sites, indicating stability and more sustainable and established local and inter-regional networks and interactions (Cohen 2016: 84–85, Fig. 6.8). As settlement systems continued to prosper in the second half of the MB, large temples were integrated into urban settings and political networks (e.g. Hazor, Shechem, Megiddo, Pella). These monumental temples were likely for elite use, with the additional possibility for use by larger local or foreign groups. Urban temples were further intended to promulgate the notion of elite rulership beyond the bounds of the local landscape. Thus, the late MB reflects a consolidation of political power, the strengthening of settlement systems and networks, increased social stratification, and the solidification of social and regional group identities which supported the urban centers and their elites. In this process, a new focus of urban planning emerged: temple architecture integrated into the elite-controlled sections of the town. In addition, smaller rural sites sometimes also integrated temple architecture into their landscapes, apparently with the ability to choose between mimicking migdal temples in diminutive proportions (e.g. Tel Kitan, Tell el-Hayyat, Al-Walajah) or constructing according to other less-defined plans (Givat Sharett, Manaḥat, Naḥal Repha’im) (cf. Sections 4.5, 4.7). Thus, as differentiated as society became, one mechanism of integration at the disposal of southern Levantine elites was constructing recognizable forms of monumental cultic architecture. At the same time, rural communities demonstrated the capability to construct smaller-scale temples either in accordance with recognizable architectural traditions or simply as a structure sufficient enough to fulfill the community’s local cultic needs. Factors affecting rural decision-making included settlement size,
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social structure, local wealth, expendable resources and the proximity to larger settlements which exhibited examples of standardized forms of temple architecture. 16.2.1.2 The LB: Societal Transformations and the Impact on Cultic Architecture The LB was a period of decrease in settlements and settlement sizes, possibly with a larger portion of the population resorting to nomadism or semi-nomadism than in the previous MB (Gonen 1984, 1992a; Bunimovitz 1994, 1995; 2019; Savage and Falconer 2003). Whereas the MB was more homogenous and had stable settlement systems and established urban centers (e.g. Ilan 1995), the southern Levant in the LB experienced political and socioeconomic fracturing and fragmenting, demonstrating a more diversified and lessintegrated system of interconnected regions and polities (Panitz-Cohen 2014: 543). By the LB IIA Amarna Period, the overarching political structure of the region was composed of different semi-autonomous hierarchical mini city-states. This was a result of multiple factors: a demographic depletion, the Egyptian domination and re-established interest and physical presence in the region (Ahituv 1978), and increased involvement in the international maritime trade networks and commercial endeavors (Killebrew 2005: 100). There was also competition to obtain and provide depleted resources for local needs as well as supplying Egypt with produce, raw materials and tribute. In addition, the attestation of multiple ethnic groups and foreign populations added to this complex and socially differentiated picture. New groups such as Egyptians, those of possible Aegean origin, and nonintegrated groups such as the Ḫapiru and Shasu (Section 2.2.2) certainly disrupted and altered the stability of the settlement systems and the cohesiveness established during the MB (Panitz-Cohen 2014: 545). The LB was thus hierarchical in terms of access to resources, control and involvement in trade, the ability to control, maintain and supply military personnel, and the variety of size and types of architecture constructed. Hazor had a different trajectory, perhaps due to its strong northern ties and not having experienced the same Egyptian domination (Bonfil and Zarzecki-Peleg 2007; Zarzecki-Peleg and Bonfil 2011). In addition to these noted trends, there was an impact on the religious systems that were at play in the MB and into the LB. In the LB, there were two types of Canaanite temples: those that were the reuse of MB migdal temples, and those that comprised a heterogenous group of newly-constructed temples according to no particular plan (Panitz-Cohen 2014: 550). In fact, although some migdal temples continued into the LB and even the Iron I, many went out of use at the end of the MB (e.g. Tell el-Hayyat, Tel Kitan, Tel Haror). Only those at the most stable sites showing strong continuity and continued control over the immediate hinterland and satellite settlements were maintained into the LB (Hazor, Megiddo, Shechem, Pella). In place, when new temples were constructed, they were constructed neither in monumental stature nor in elite-controlled foci of urban centers. The LB II construction of Hazor’s monumental Building 7050 on the elitecontrolled high tell was an anomaly. Part II demonstrated that LB temples as a rule were irregular in form without any clear resemblances to known architecture types. The examples that stray from this were categorically a result of Egyptian influences or inspiration. The Egyptian-influenced forms at Beth Shean and the Lachish Acropolis Temple, and possibly the Lachish Fosse Temples II and III (e.g. Bietak 2002), likely resulted from direct or indirect Egyptian influence or physical presence. Thus, it is possible they were Egyptian-constructed, constructed for an Egyptian audience, or were Egyptianizing but intended for local Canaanite use under the guise of elite emulation (Mazar 1992; Higginbotham 2000). Indeed, the LB I Temple 58066 at Beth Shean, built prior to the establishment of an Egyptian garrison at the site, exhibited no Egyptian influences. Many of the temples established in the LB were not built in urban centers, but rather at small or even isolated road-side sites (e.g. Lachish Fosse Temple, Tel Mevorakh, Tel Nami, Tell Abu Hawam, Beth Shean Temple 58066). In certain instances, new urban cultic spaces were constructed, not always of elite stature (cf. Section 4.8). In these cases, differentiation related to the scale of cultic activity is evident. Cultic activity performed in and around Hazor’s Stelae Temple (Area C, lower tell, non-elite) represented the same general types of activities as in the larger temples of Areas H and A (elite controlled). Yet, the fact that the Stelae Temple was situated on the lower tell, integrated into the plan of a neighborhood and not monumental suggests it was intended for locals of lower socioeconomic status who were less capable of high quantities of expenditure in terms of the cult, of offerings, and food and materials consumed during events. This is further emphasized by the small assemblages from the Area C Stelae Temple in comparison to the large diverse assemblages from the Area H Orthostat Temple, and in the diminutive amount, and value, of votive offerings
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from Area C. In fact, the Area C Stelae Temple might have served a different purpose than the large temples. As suggested by previous scholars, it possibly related to the cult of the dead (cf. Section 17.3.5.2). As a result of the highly stratified LB society, the elite were concerned with maintaining their own status at the expense of others. Indeed, this is reflected in the trends noted in temple architecture. This also resulted in conspicuous consumption, much to the detriment of the non-elite classes as well as to themselves in the long run (Bunimovitz 1994: 10–11). On the one hand, strong centers maintained large migdal temples. On the other hand, these temples became more exclusive and no longer provided accessible needs to others in the southern Levant. As this trend continued, the migdal temples in urban centers lost their relevance and new architecture types in new spaces were established to address those needs. 16.2.2 Activities and Offerings Certain activities were constantly attested throughout the MB and LB in temples. The two most readily apparent activities were consumption and the presenting of votive offerings. In addition to special rituals that would have been conducted within sacred precincts, sacrificial acts were unquestionably pervasively performed. More nuanced variation is also evident. During the MB, the earlier temples and cultic spaces emphasized consumption, food preparation, storage and the ritual use of large amounts of miniature vessels. These trends were mainly evident in non-urban, open-air contexts with similar trends noted later in the exterior spaces in courtyards associated with temples and their favissae such as at Tel Haror, Tell el-Dab‘a, and Pella. At the peak of urbanization in the late MB, when urban centers constructed migdal temples, ritual was heavily focused on consumption, yet with little evidence for food preparation and storage (cf. Part III).107 The temple courtyard at the MB III migdal temple at Tel Haror remarkably reflected practices that were characteristic of the early MB open-air contexts. With the introduction of monumental temple architecture, the outdoor space was apparently used for performing activities already established early in the MB. The temple interior, in contrast, was reserved for only limited and restricted activities. The regional and political situation of Tel Haror in the Negev, far removed from the other urban centers in the coastal plain, inner valleys and highlands, likely impacted the performance of ritual there. It therefore may not be representative of Canaan, in general, but rather of a particular Canaanite site in the Negev during the MB III with likely Hyksos connections (Section 4.4.6.2). During the LB, vessels associated with cultic activity form a very small portion of temple assemblages, with an additional emphasis on consumption being indicated. During this time, palaces, which emphasized storage and consumption in the MB, integrated the use of ritual objects into palatial contexts. This was evident in Megiddo’s Stratum VII palace, which had an assemblage composed of 25% ritual- or cult-related vessels and included a clay shrine model, most often associated with cultic activity in temples (Samet et al. 2017: 143). Further, new vessels associated with ritual that appeared in the LB (e.g. cup-and-saucers, scoops) were yielded both in temples (Fosse Temple) and palaces alike (e.g. Megiddo) (ibid.: 144). Thus, while MB ritual activity was composed of a combination of consumption, food preparation, storage and the use and dedication of miniature vessels, LB activities placed a focus on commensality. Still, there was a continuation of offering objects of prestige which functioned as status symbols. This was not just visible in LB urban temples but also in the newly constructed irregular temples. Whereas the large urban temples likely served the continued purpose of acting as venues for the urban elites, the newly constructed LB temples provided cultic space for other sectors or classes of the populace, such as merchants, traders, travelers and in general people who had something to offer and donate. The appearance of LB road-side shrines emphasizes both the mobility of certain people within the southern Levant and also the fact that those mobile individuals had cultic needs that these non-elite temples were apparently able to address and satisfy. In addition, the types and scale of offerings relate to both regional variation and the type of cultic space. For example, both Lachish and Hazor had attestations of votive objects bearing inscriptions of dedicatory offerings. The Lachish ewer was a locally produced vessel bearing local decorations and motifs. Its inscription was alphabetic, stating that the vessel was an offering to the goddess ‘Elat (e.g. Hestrin 1987). This was one of the earliest southern Levantine examples of the local script which evolved from Egyptian hieroglyphs. 107
During the MB temple phases at Pella, the assemblages were overwhelmingly composed of bowls (upwards of 50% and ca. twice as frequent as bowls in domestic contexts at the site) while cooking pots and storage jars were particularly rare. Miniature vessels were recovered from the many pits in the temple courtyard at the site; post-MB, these miniature vessels were no longer attested at the site (Bourke, personal communication, 2017).
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The vessel was not a prestige object, per se, but rather was within the realm of vernacular or popular traditions with the addition of a local inscription. In contrast, the agannu dolerite bowl fragment from Hazor (Hazor 13, Horowitz et al. 2018: 82–83) was a well-executed vessel with an elaborate inscription, written in cuneiform Akkadian. This form of inscription was a known West Semitic dedicatory formulation and thus signifies internationalism, prestige and status. The bowl was found in Area M (ibid.), part of a monumental palatial structure where large amounts of cultic activity was conducted (Ben-Tor 2015: 74–84). Although both objects were dedicatory offerings, these examples demonstrate the effects that regional location and interactions and the form of cultic context had on certain forms of cultic activity. In this particular case, the well-executed agannu bowl with its international form came from a large, urban and elite-controlled context with many northern connections, while the less prestigious and more vernacular Lachish ewer came from a road-side shrine off the main tell of Lachish, beyond any visible elite control and within the range of Egyptian influences impacting the form of the script. 16.2.3 Hazor as a Case Study: Diachronic Change and Diversity in Architecture and Activities The site of Hazor provides a rare occasion where both temples and partial palatial contexts can be analyzed diachronically. This allows for an analysis of the role elites played within the changing architectural and cultic landscapes of a Canaanite polity over time. Zuckerman astutely noted that in the LB, Hazor’s elites resorted to religion and ritual in an effort to legitimize their rule and integrate the population within the settlement and its greater sphere of influence (Zuckerman 2007b: 16). In fact, Hazor rulership in the LB II made a concerted effort to integrate ritualistic aspects previously found in temples into the palatial setting as well (Zuckerman 2010: 178). This happened at a time of mounting social, economic and political turmoil following the collapse of the stable MB networks. Whereas the transition from the end of the MB (Stratum 3) to the LB I (Stratum 2) demonstrated remarkable continuity, the transition from Stratum 1B (the Amarna Period) to Stratum 1A was marked by deterioration, although it is argued whether there was total destruction (Yadin 1972: 108, Bienkowski 1987: 51–52) or a gradual process of deterioration (Zuckerman 2007b: 17). Factors contributing to this deterioration might have been geopolitically inspired, such as the fall of Mitanni and the replacement of their 14th century B.C.E. supremacy by the Hittites (Zarzecki-Peleg and Bonfil 2011: 557), or as a result of internally-driven local strife brought on by city dwellers who revolted after bearing the brunt of the ostentatiousness of the ruling elite (Zuckerman 2007b: 25). In fact, the reason that LB Hazor contrasted so much from the rest of the southern Levant might be that it was beyond the direct influence of Egypt, possibly autonomous with connections to Syro-Mitannian-Hittite spheres (Zarzecki-Peleg and Bonfil 2011). Hazor stands out as an anomaly in many ways and its various cultic spaces exhibited a number of “unexpected” characteristics. In the MB, excluding the Complex of Standing Stones, Hazor temples had ample evidence for immediate consumption (the Southern Temple, the road leading to the Southern Temple, the Stratum 3 Orthostat Temple in Area H), with nearly two-thirds of all the assemblages composed of bowls, cups, goblets and chalices (Bechar 2017: Figs. 7.32–7.35, 7.141–7.149; Bechar, personal communication, 2017; cf. Chapter 8). On the other hand, storage and food preparation were more limited, except for at the Complex of Standing Stones (again) as well as the LB Building 7050, both of which had higher percentages of both categories (ibid.: Figs. 7.37–7.42, 7.52–7.134; personal communication, 2017). There were also higher numbers and percentages of kraters in Hazor temples than at other sites, specifically in Area A (in the space outside of the Stratum XVI Southern Temple, in both strata of the Complex of Standing Stones, and in the LB II Building 7050) and in all strata of the Area H temple. A vessel unique to a number of Hazor temples was the cup, indicating in tandem with the high concentrations of kraters, activities related to drinking that differed from other sites. Specifically, cups were found in very high concentrations in and around the Southern Temple, with more limited evidence of their use in the Complex of Standing Stones and later Building 7050 interior. Further, while MB sites showed a preference for the use of miniature vessels in open-air and exterior spaces, the trends from Area A at Hazor reflect the opposite: the outdoor spaces lacked high concentrations of miniature vessels while the indoor spaces (Southern Temple and surrounding rooms from the road to the temple) had very high concentrations. This was similarly observed in LB Building 7050. In contrast, the miniature vessels from Area H at Hazor were largely found in the temple’s courtyard, near the kiln, and in favissa 2156 which was beyond the temple temenos (Section 8.2.3.1). The Complex of Standing Stones was quite an anomaly, then, considering it had
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large quantities of storage and food preparation as noted in other outdoor cultic spaces yet lacked the cultic vessels often attested. In the moments prior to the urban boom of Stratum XVII (Stratum IV) at the site, there already existed an increase in social diversity and hierarchy (Maeir 1997: 325; 2010: Table 3). With the ambitious construction projects of Stratum XVII, the elite consolidated their rulership over the entire fortified settlement. This included the integration of multiple ritual spaces within the palace. Yet these ritual spaces demonstrated different use patterns, reflected different functions and exhibited different forms of architecture and furnishings. The Complex of Standing Stones (Section 4.3.4.1) undoubtedly recalled open-air cultic spaces which typified early MB Canaanite cult (e.g. consumption, storage, food preparation, female figurines, beads), yet certain aspects of cultic practice were different: there was a lack of miniature vessels. These were reserved for use in and around the Southern Temple, the more official and ceremonial of spaces (Section 4.4.2.1.1). This, too, diverges from the behavioral patterns noted in other Canaanite temples, which generally exhibited use of miniature vessels in outdoor, not indoor, spaces. Thus, at this early stage in Hazor’s urbanization, ritual space and activities were not only integral to palatial activities and authority but were also manipulated and augmented. As the MB progressed (Stratum 3), the Area H temple was constructed, likely as part of the elite’s effort to fully integrate the site under its sphere of influence. The temple’s location in the far north of the site and abutting the earlier ramparts indicates an equation between the expanse of the elite’s authority and its extension of the use of ritual to enforce its legitimacy. In its initial construction, the Area H temple had a large open courtyard and was very inclusive. However, over time, there was a progressively increased confinement and restricted access to the temple, providing less space for inclusive ritual and feasts than in the initial phases (Section 4.4.2.2). The site’s biggest transformation was in Stratum 1B, reflecting the geopolitical changes taking hold of the region at the time. Multiple new cultic spaces such as in Area C and possibly Area F were also established (Zuckerman 2012: 104–105). It was also during this period that Area M (Ben-Tor 2015: 74–84) and Building 7050 developed (Section 4.4.2.1.1), showing an immense investment in elite construction on the high tell in contrast to the deterioration of public construction and restriction of access to certain cultic sites in the lower tell. The spaces atop the high tell demonstrate not only palatial functions such as large amounts of storage and food preparation, but also diverse forms of feasting (Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007) and vessels associated with ritual, such as cup-and-saucers, cultic stands and miniature vessels. Thus, the local elite in the postAmarna period invested their resources, at the expense of the rest of the settlement, in buttressing their status and the architecture and activities in Areas A and M. The contrast between upper and lower cities was clear. Ritual and the construction and use of cultic spaces were primary tools at the disposal of the urban elites in the process.
16.3 Practices According to Ritual Texts 16.3.1 Ritual Activities This section does not attempt to cover all aspects of religion, and many rites involved in popular religion that can be discerned in mythological, para-mythological and other non-ritual texts do not appear in clear forms in the ritual texts. Thus, blessings, curses, oracles, omens, matters of personal piety, dealing with sickness, the performance of music and cult of the dead all appear in various forms throughout corpora at Ugarit and Emar (Pardee 1988; Caubet 1996; Parker 1997; Wyatt 2007a: 85–141; del Olmo Lete 2014). Texts from the ancient Near East, from Mesopotamia through Egypt, make clear how ubiquitous blood rituals revolving around sacrifice were (Section 2.4.2). In addition to blood rituals, ritual texts from the ANE indicate large quantities of other non-blood rituals including libations, incense burning, offering of material goods such as vegetal products, fabrics, metals and objects of other materials, processions, the movement of objects signifying or related to the deity during the processions (e.g. statues, divine weapons, carriages), investiture-enthronement rites, ritual activity involving uttering invocations, recitations and prayers, communal meals, purificatory rites of ablution, ritual anointing of personnel, objects and statues, rituals related to dressing, feeding, and opening the mouth of divine statues, the use of maṣṣebot, and rituals of atonement, to name a few (Fleming 1992: 134–198; 2000; Merlo and Xella 1999: 291–296; Wyatt 1999: 563; Pardee 2000, 2002: v– viii, 1–5, 36–38, 69–72, 77–83, 226; Walls 2005). A number of these activities will be revisited in the next chapter.
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16.3.2 Libations 16.3.2.1 Textual Claims Of the activities that might have material correlates, this study has found some evidence in the texts from Ugarit, for example, of libations. One clear example is in KTU 1.119:24–25 of an oil libation, where the noun m-t-k, from the verb root n-t-k, (related to biblical n-s-k), refers to a libation of (olive) oil, š-m-n, being poured out (Merlo and Xella 1999: 294; DULAT, 592, 635, 642). In this text, the Malakūma (deceased kings, royal ancestors) were the recipients of the libation offerings. Other texts refer to possible water or wine libations as well (KTU 1.41, KTU 1.107). One problem with this ritual is very little description of how libations were to be performed is ever provided in the texts (Merlo and Xella 1999: 294). The root š-q-y also seems to denote a type of libation, of the gods drinking the libation offering, as in KTU 1.115:11 = RS 24.260 (Pardee 2002: 269–270; DULAT, 827). Archaeological evidence for libation installations has been questioned at the site of Ugarit (Pitard 1994). In addition to Ugarit, textual and pictographic evidence from Hittite contexts demonstrate that pouring of libations, including beer, wine, oil and honey, to both male and female deities was part of Hittite cult. In Hatti as at Ugarit, a number of vessel-types were associated with libation offerings and libations were variously poured into the ground, into pits dug into the ground, into vats, or into cup marks cut into stone near pictographic reliefs (Collins 2007: 62–63, 128, 164–165, 170, 194). At Emar, libation offerings (from the same root as sacrificial offerings, naqû) appear mainly in rites for Hittite gods using cups. During the NIN.DINGIR festival (Emar 369.42), oils were also offered as libations in local rituals (Fleming 1992: 120–121). Also, našāru possibly referred to libations of beer and wine in Emar 393.28 (CAD N/2 64, “našāru B”; cf. Fleming 1992: 122). 16.3.2.2 Possible Archaeological Evidence Even if one can establish that libations were performed in temple contexts, reconstructing those actions or the objects used in association with those actions is difficult. A number objects have been suggested by archaeologists as related to libation offerings, including rhyta, kernoi, miniature vessels, cup-and-saucers and scoops (Section 7.3.2). It is further possible that vessels for pouring, such as juglets, in certain contexts could have been used in rituals related to the ritual pouring of libations (Sections 10.2.1, 11.2.1). Fixtures such as stone tables and drains at Hazor Area H, Gezer, Tel Mevorakh, Tel Nami (Sections 8.1.2, 8.2.2, 8.2.3.2, 11.2.3, 13.3.3; Fig. 8.3), jars with pierced bases set into the ground such as at the Fosse Temple (Section 10.2.1), large basins such as at Hazor Areas A and H, Megiddo Temple 2040 and Gezer (Sections 4.3.4.1, 4.3.5, 4.4.2.2.1, Figs. 4.8, 16.8; Loud 1948: Fig. 254), and even open pits (Ward 2016: 63) could have related to libation offerings. It is also possible that libations were offered at maṣṣebot installations (Heffron 2016: 34–35, Fig. 10). 16.3.3 Incense Burning 16.3.3.1 Textual Evidence Ritual involving incense burning is even more problematic. The ritual texts from neither Ugarit nor Emar, quite detailed in many respects, do not offer a single mention of incense burning at all. In liturgical texts from Ugarit, there are a number of incantations to deities such as Kumarbe, Šauška, Ilu and Ušḫara which include incense offerings (KTU 1.44, KTU 1.51, KTU 1.54, KTU 1.128, KTU 1.131). These hymns were all of Hurrian influence, with parallels in Boğazköy (Lam 2011: 168–169, n. 77). From the written evidence, this practice appears to be of Hurrian or Hittite import. At Ugarit, not only do the ritual texts have no mention of burning incense (Pardee 2002: 238), offerings of organic material such as myrrh which could have theoretically and implicitly been used as an ingredient in incense also were used for perfumed oils. In fact, literary and para-mythological sources from Ugarit make the use of myrrh in perfumed oils explicit with no mention of incense (e.g. in the Aqhat Legend, COS I: 1.103 = KTU 1.19 IV:23–24, Pardee 1997: 344; also in KTU 1.124:5 = RS 24.272, Pardee 1988: 179–192).108 Thus, as far as can be determined from the texts, ritual at Ugarit did not involve incense burning. That is not to say that incense burning was not practiced at Ugarit, but it was not a focus in the prescriptive ritual texts that have come to light.
108
This has also been relayed to me by Prof. Dennis Pardee via personal communication, December, 2016.
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On the other hand, a number of non-ritual texts from Ugarit might make reference to incense, incense burning, or incense burners, although not within any form of ritual practice. The root d-ǵ-ṭ, for example, refers to either “incense” or less commonly an “offering of perfumes” (Smith 2006: 57; Wright 2001: 202; DULAT, 266). This term appears in KTU 1.23:14–15 (Smith 2006: 20), alongside the word basin (’a-g-n) which most likely refers to a fashioned vessel such as a krater, large open bowl, or basin with Semitic cognates in Akkadian, Phoenician, Hebrew and Aramaic. This is contra Pope (1955: 80), Gordon (UT 19.65) and Tsumura (1973:43) who argued it was a source of fire, derived from Indo-European cognates. In the context of the text, ’agn seems to be some sort of cooking receptacle as the larger activity described in the lines suggests cooking, followed by a hunt scene, all of which take place in the field of El (or of the gods). The root d-ǵ-ṭ also appears in KTU 1.19 IV:23–24, where following seven years of mourning over the death/murder of Aqhat, Dan’el (the father) presents food offerings to the gods as well as sending “incense” into the heavens (Parker 1997: 76). It is unclear where exactly this offering takes place – possibly Dan’el’s palace. In any event, it is part of a specific scenario, the aftermath of a seven-year period of mourning. There is no clear indication of incense here, specifically, nor any indication of burning or how in fact this offering, if indeed a ritual, was performed. Even if this is a reference to incense, it was surely not part of the official cult or rites which took place within larger temples. The root q-ṭ-r (as well as qẓrt, a likely allophone of the main root) is well attested in a range of Semitic languages, having a semantic range from “smoke” to “spirit” (DULAT, 709, 711), often related to incense in other languages. However, at Ugarit, it does not appear to refer specifically to incense, although one reference does refer to some sort of brazier upon the table of the Lady of the Mansions (KTU 1.109:30; DULAT, 711). One other root, ’u-ṯ-ḫ-t, possibly refers to an incense burner or censer (DULAT, 122; Pardee 2002: 16, 19, 285), but more precisely as a divinized censer in deity lists (KTU 1.57:31, 1.118:30). If these terms do relate to incense burning, the substances involved and the rituals themselves are vague, at best, and are in any case not specified as part of the official cult. The textual evidence from Emar is similarly lacking, with no clear references to incense burning not only in the ritual texts but in the corpus at large from the site.109 The use or offering of cedar oil (gišERIN.NA) could potentially be understood as an offering of incense,110 but even if this reading is correct (which is not explicit in the text), no information is provided indicating how, where, when or with what apparatus the incense was burned. Thus, from a purely textual point of view, during official ritual at Ugarit and Emar, either no incense was burned or incense burning was so pervasive and integrated into ritual performance that there was no need to mention or prescribe its use. 16.3.3.2 Incense in the Archaeological Record As I have already discussed in Part III, archaeological evidence of incense burning is obscure. Cultic stands show no evidence in their use as incense stands as no soot or burn remains appear on stand samples. The function and role of miniature vessels and seven-cupped bowls in southern Levantine ritual remains unclear, although possibly related to incense burning. Chalices, in certain contexts do seem to have been used for burning incense. Vessels as common as bowls could have been used for burning incense, as evident in Egyptian iconography and resin and burnt residues from bowls analyzed at LB Amarna (Serpico 1996: 115; Serpico and White 2000). The appearance and use of incense in southern Levantine cultic contexts still remain largely unclear. 16.3.4 Maṣṣebot 16.3.4.1 Function One specific cultic furnishing, maṣṣebot, has received a great deal attention, often cited as related to openair communal cultic practices (e.g. Nakhai 1993: 196–197). There has been much debate on the meaning and function of standing stones in the southern Levant. Graessar posited four basic functions: memorial to mark the memory of a deceased individual or individuals; legal to mark a legal contract or relationship between
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After my own initial observations, this notion has been confirmed for me by Prof. Daniel Fleming via personal communication, December 2016. 110 I would like to thank Prof. Yoram Cohen for bringing this last possible reading to my attention, personal communication, December 2016.
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two or more parties; commemorative to memorialize or commemorate an event and its participants; or cultic to mark either an area or focal point in which the numinous force of the deity is present or can be encountered (Graessar 1972: 37). However, these categories do little more than provide a general framework for exploring actual uses and meanings behind maṣṣebot archaeologically recovered. The range in contexts, forms, regions and cultures within which standing stones appear on the one hand indicates universal tendencies while on the other hand suggests the potential for a range of various functions related to their specific use. In fact, all of these suggestions by Graessar would fall under the notion of “cultic” in the sense that even legalistic or commemorative functions would lie within the underlying framework of Bronze Age religion; no clear separation between the sacred and profane was experienced during this period, and certainly law was grounded within the religious systems found across the ANE (Dietrich et al. 1989: 35–37). Within the framework of public or official cult, two general lines of interpretation have prevailed: a relationship to ancestor worship or to representations of deities. Etymologically, the Akkadian term for stele, sikkānu/sikkānum, derives either from the root s-k-n – “to reside” or “to dwell” – or from the root š-k-n – “to place” or “to erect”. While the former possibility associates some entity residing or embodied within the stone (whether a deity or the deceased), the latter is purely descriptive. Most scholars agree with the former interpretation (Durand 1985; Dietrich et al. 1989; Hutter 1993). In Ugaritic, s-k-n similarly refers to a “stele” (see below). In the Hebrew bible, the term referring to these standing stones – maṣṣebah – stems from the root n-ṣ-b with a verbal connotation “to establish” or “to erect.” Interestingly, this accords with the abovementioned rejected possibility that the root of sikkānum is related to š-k-n. It is very possible this was a rejection by the biblical authors of the notion of the deity or deities residing within the stone. Within the fabric of the biblical text itself, another word for standing stone, baetyl, was derived from the term bet-El, the “house of God” (Hutter 1993: 101–103). The term baetyl carried over into Greek, as exemplified by Philo of Byblos (Baumgarten 1981, History of Culture, PE 1.10.10, History of Kronos, PE 1.10.23). In certain contexts, such as at Mari, Emar and in Hittite cult, the association with a deity is unquestionable. At MB Mari, sikkānum-stones were sometimes associated with specific deities, such as the sikkānum of dIM (from M.7014) and the sikkānum of Dagan (Durand 1985: 83). Mari texts relate the necessity of fashioning and erecting sikkānum-stones for upcoming feasts for Ištar (A.652, FM 8 12:3–10) and for Dagan (M.7014).111 At LB Emar, the sikkānu of Ḫebat (e.g. dSi-ka-ni ša dḪe-bat in Emar 373.166, and passim) received an offering of a lamb by the priestess and was anointed by the priestess just as the priestess herself was anointed (Emar 369: 34–36). Thus, the stone was specifically related to the worship of a female deity at the site, no less the female consort of the central god, the storm god dIM, of the NIN.DINGIR high priestess installation ritual. During the maš’artu installation, a sikkānu that was possibly associated with the goddess Aštartu tāḫāzi was placed on a roof and presented with offerings (Emar 370: 41, 43; Fleming 1992: 79). Further, during the zukru festival, the gate of the sikkānu functioned as an open-air cultic locale in which city gods in the form of statues were driven between the many sikkānu-stones, sacrifices were made, a large communal feast was conducted, and the stones were anointed with oil and blood. Sikkānu-stones at Emar also functioned outside the limits of cult, such as in legal documents and as boundary markers (Fleming 1992: 78). Within LB Hittite contexts, ḫuwaši-stones (na4ZI.KIN) were sometimes set up in temples or otherwise functioned as the center of rural building-less shrines. As representations of gods, they similarly received offerings and were washed and anointed (Mettinger 1995: 129; Hazenbos 2003: 174–175). It is likely the Sumerogram na4ZI.KIN is a “loanword” or pseudo-sumerographical spelling of the Akkadian sikkānu, and in fact the term “ḫuwaši” itself may be connected to Akkadian ḫumâ/ûšum (Hutter 1993; Hazenbos 2003: 175), both of which indicate a linguistic connection to the Akkadian term for “stele” and possible common SyroAnatolian traditions related to the cultic use of these stones. From the Hittite cultic inventories, ḫuwaši-stones were not only described in terms of aniconic cult objects contrasting from cultic statues, but also as forms of small, open-air sanctuaries contrasting from temples (Hazenbos 2003: 175).
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In letter A 652 from Mari, for example, a sikkānum was to be fashioned and erected in light of the upcoming feast of Ištar. Without the stele, the festival could not have taken place. M.7014 discusses the necessity of erecting a sikkānumstone dedicated to Dagan (Dietrich et al. 1989: 133–134). Perhaps the stele did not represent the deity himself but rather was a necessary dedicatory acknowledgement of the deity’s existence and presence.
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From Ugarit, s-k-n was inscribed on the Dagan stele, essentially identifying the stone object as a stele (KTU 6.13). This is a unique case in antiquity. in general, and with reference to standing stone specifically, in which an object was inscribed and identified. In fact, the verb in the inscription used for erecting the Dagan stele is n-ṣ-b, recalling the biblical root for the term maṣṣebah. In the legend of ’Aqhat (KTU 1.17 I:26–28), the duties of a son to his father included the need to “erect a stele of his ancestral god” (nṣb skn ’il’ibh) (Dijkstra and de Moor 1976; de Moor 1986; Dietrich and Loretz 1978; Pope 1981). This latter case stresses domestic concerns related to deceased ancestors and connects standing stones and cult at Ugarit to the needs and concerns of the dead. Yet, the difficult term ’il’ibh contains both a human element (’ib – “father” or “ancestor”) and a divine element (’il – god). Thus, clearly defining s-k-n in this text is difficult as it is associated with both divine and human concerns and possibly relates to ancestor cult. These two examples from Ugarit demonstrate diversity in the use of standing stones, one a part of Ugarit’s official cult from a public temple context and the other an essential element in domestic, family-oriented cult. 16.3.4.2 Maṣṣebot in the Southern Levant According to Archaeological Sources From this survey of the textual data, it is possible that maṣṣebot in the southern Levant were aniconic representations of deities or deceased ancestors, or cultic objects serving as conduits for either deity worship or cult of the dead. The diverse range of contexts within which maṣṣebot appear in the southern Levant might suggest a multitude of functions. In the MB, maṣṣebot were mainly erected in open-air spaces, the majority of which were found associated with a temple. Those from the Jordan Valley, which include Tell el-Hayyat, Tel Kitan and possibly Pella, consisted of multiple maṣṣebot in temple courtyards (Eisenberg 1977; Falconer and Fall 2006: 93; 96–99; Bourke 2007: 6; 2012). At Tell el-Hayyat, they were associated with low flat-lying offering tables (Section 4.5.1.1). The MB palace at Hazor from its early establishment already integrated a large assemblage of maṣṣebot and associated offering tables into the palace entrance (Section 4.3.4). These were not directly connected to a temple, per se, but were established as part of a highly visible, open-air space for large groups to partake in cultic activity, and very close to the nearby Southern Temple. Whereas the other examples had a direct relationship between temple courtyard and maṣṣebot, the Hazor palace effectively distanced the two traditions from one another (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: 45–54, cf. Plans 3.14–3.17). Maṣṣebot also sometimes appeared as single stones facing MB temple façades, such as the large maṣṣebah facing the entrance to the Shechem migdal temple and the similar one from the rural temple at Al-Walajah (Wright 1965: 93; Ein-Mor 2015; Sections 4.4.4, 4.7.4). A group of standing stones was found in Area BB at Megiddo in Stratum XII (MB II), an open-air precinct possibly associated with a small shrine (Loud 1948: 87–88). This phenomenon of multiple stations of maṣṣebot in open-air courtyards was most evident at MB Byblos where the temenos of the Temple of the Obelisks included a large courtyard with 44 obelisk-shaped standing stones associated with a small central shrine (Dunand 1958: 645). On the other hand, a row of monolithic standing stones at MB Gezer was established in an open-air cultic precinct without any relationship to architecture (Section 4.3.5). At Tel Ifshar, two maṣṣebot were found in secondary use lying at the threshold between two rooms in MB contexts: an earlier one in Phase B and a later one from Phase E or F (Marcus, Porath and Paley 2008: 227–228, Fig. 2). One of the stones was not local. Marcus has suggested a possible symbolic gesture in the placement of an out-of-use cultic object as a stone to be stepped on, or over, as one moves from one room to the next (Marcus, personal communication, 2017). A change in religious outlook is implied at the site, possibly due to a change in population if not an act of religious subjugation and denigrating sacrilege expressed toward another group’s cultic object. A number of unpublished maṣṣebot are also evident along the coastal plain, such as at Tel Nami, Tel Michal and Tel Kabri (Marcus and Artzy, personal communications, 2018; Prausnitz 1975). In the LB, maṣṣebot were less common, and the main site at which they were attested is Hazor, in the cella of the Area C Stelae Temple (Fig. 9.2) and a number of maṣṣebot stations in the courtyard of the Area H Orthostat Temple. One of the maṣṣebot from the Stelae Temple bore iconography (Fig. 9.3), rare within the southern Levantine aniconic tradition, but known to have been popular further to the north at contemporary Ugarit (Fig. 16.6; cf. Mettinger 1995: 122–127). Another tradition of complete Egyptian import was the setting up of stelae bearing Egyptian depictions and hieroglyphic inscriptions. In sites with a large Egyptian presence and influences on local traditions like LB Beth Shean, many purely Egyptian inscribed stelae were found (Mettinger 1995: 189–190; Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 82–95). Local elements were at times integrated into the overwhelmingly Egyptian products, such as in the Mekal stele in which a deity with a Semitic name,
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Mekal, was depicted with Asiatic attributes (Thompson 1970; Cornelius 1994: 25–26). Similarly, one of the stelae from the LB Hathor temple at Timna had heads of Hathor depicted on both sides, attesting to Egyptian influences (Rothenberg 1972: 19–37). The change in the use, appearance, and frequency of maṣṣebot parallels, although is not necessarily a result of, shifting patterns in cultic architecture, locations of cultic sites, activities conducted in temples, and iconographic traditions of the Bronze Age southern Levant. All of these were affected by the general cultural, geopolitical, socioeconomic and religious changes that occurred between the MB and LB. Given the diversity of forms, contexts and associations within which maṣṣebot were found in the southern Levant, a multitude of functions seems likely. Often associated with offering tables, activities likely involved presenting offerings and placing them in front of the maṣṣebot. Texts also mention anointing as one treatment of standing stones. Pouring out libations is yet another possibility (Heffron 2016: 34–35, Fig. 10). An important aspect of these maṣṣebot is that in many instances, they occurred in groups. This suggests a multiplicity of worshipers were involved in the performance of ritual related to the maṣṣebot. Their appearance in temple courtyards implies large groups of individuals gathered in the temples’ open-air space for cultic purposes. Multiple maṣṣebot signal multiple focal points for performing cultic activities, either for simultaneous activities to be conducted by various ritual actors or as multiple stations to be sequentially utilized during rituals. Within the cult, these maṣṣebot either represented different minor deities, the same deity but functioning as multiple conduits or stations for larger quantities of worshipers to perform ritual at a given time, or as stand-ins or memorials for the deceased. From a social scientific perspective, the location, quantity, and distribution of these maṣṣebot created hierarchy within the ritual system. Within the temenos, there was decision-making involved in the placement of the standing stone stations, and there was a meaningful choice in avoiding the integration of maṣṣebot into the temple interiors. This established a differential relationship between the use of interior and exterior space, one which emphasized the restricted access to the temple interior in contrast to the somewhat more inclusive temple courtyard. Similarly, having large quantities of maṣṣebot distributed throughout a temple courtyard established a dynamic and interactive setting in which a multitude of moving ritual actors utilized various spaces for the performance of ritual. Thus, a certain group identity would be forged in the process, while also creating differentiated locations for the performance of various rituals.
16.4 Canaanite Ritual Praxis The integration of the data and findings of the archaeology of Canaanite cult in Parts II and III, the theory presented in Section 2.4 and this chapter’s above discussion will contribute to a more holistic understanding of Canaanite ritual praxis. 16.4.1 Ritual This section returns to the basic question of why Canaanites came together to conduct ritual within communal cultic contexts. The role that ritual played in forging and maintaining communal identity was dealt with in depth in Section 2.4.1. It is worth revisiting a number of ways in which ritual and religion relate to society in general. Ritual functions dialectically: on the one hand as responsive to maintain social norms, while on the other hand as an active tool to create new norms and maintain social inequality. Further, ritual is a mechanism which creates and maintains social cohesion. The communal aspects noted in the MB in particular would suggest that shared ritual activities played a role in the process of creating and maintaining a specific southern Levantine identity. Some of these actions might have been enacted as responses to local ecological factors and to aspects of social complexity. Rituals are essentially a group-specific mechanism by which a particular society responds to and solves problems, addresses contradictions, alleviates various forms of stress, and even promotes adaptation. The earliest evidence of ritual during the MB emphasized communal activities revolving around communal consumption and large amounts of miniature votive offerings in open settings (Section 16.2.2). As ritual also serves as a response to new situations hitherto unknown within the society (e.g. Bettinger 1991: 207), ritual played a role in the process of urbanization and the integration of cult into urban landscapes during the second half of the MB (Section 16.2.1.1). At the same time, ritual could be used as a tool of legitimization and to create and maintain social inequality, acting as a mechanism by which hierarchy is constructed (e.g. Bloch 1977, Marx and Engels 2001). As such, MB and LB elites used ritual to usurp and manipulate Canaan-
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ite religion to create social inequality, establish and retain their heightened status, and control others’ identities and levels of participation in the official cult (e.g. Section 16.2.3). As MB society transitioned into the pinnacle of urbanization, new struggles to manage and maintain the earlier more communal traditions arose (Sections 2.2.1, 2.2.3). One mechanism which certain urban centers used to address this issue was the integration of standardized cultic architecture into the urban landscapes. The new structures, however, required new structuring and organization in the maintenance, investment and supervision of cultic activities. The social fragmentation and collapse of social cohesiveness of the LB would have evoked yet again new sets of rituals in efforts to maintain some sort of hold on established urban institutions (Sections 2.2.2, 16.2.1.2, 16.2.2). This study has demonstrated that activities revolved around consumption (feasting) and the presentation of various quantities and types of votive offerings (e.g. Part III, Sections 15.1, 16.2.2). Consumption within a religious context likely resulted from sacrifice. However, sacrifice is difficult to identify in the archaeological record. It is the resultant activities in which offerings were made and food and drink were consumed that are more visible. The social implications of those events will now be addressed. 16.4.2 Feasting and Commensality Feasts were one platform within which social practices were maintained, transformed, controlled and manipulated (Section 2.4.3.1; Dietler and Hayden 2001). While feasts reflected local customs, they also were used to manipulate and control norms. Individuals controlling the rules and space for the feasts dictated whether to maintain social norms or to construct new ones. While social cohesion was one outcome of feasting, hosts could utilize feasts as platforms to promote and enhance their own or other individuals’ statuses within hierarchic social settings. In larger commensal gatherings based around meals, those in control essentially determined who had access to participate, who provided provisions and how much, and where and under what circumstances the meals should take place. Zuckerman explored LB Canaanite feasting traditions in precisely this manner, concluding that within cultic contexts, feasts emphasized the role of the rulers who could reassert and legitimize their status, authority and power relations (Zuckerman 2007a: 201). Thus, Canaanite kings could use feasts and feasting venues as opportunities and spaces for conspicuous consumption, for competitive displays of prestige and power, and as sociopolitical mechanisms for maintaining and manipulating power relations on local, inter-urban and regional levels (ibid.). In socially hierarchic societies, feasts in cultic settings were therefore integrated into social and political agendas. On the other hand, feasts in a palatial setting at the MB polity of Tel Kabri were used to promote a common Canaanite, or an even more local Kabrite, identity. As political tools at the hands of the rulers, feasts and feasting vessels were undoubtedly directly related to the palace elites (Yasur-Landau et al. 2011: 382, 390). However, “Kabri Goblets,” the choice drinking vessel used during communal feasts at the site, were found in all contexts: palatial, domestic and funerary (ibid.). The use of these vessels by all strata of society indicates that feasts were essential tools in forging a common group identity within an urban center, and in the case of Tel Kabri, in non-religious settings. Bietak, on the other hand, connected MB and LB feasting traditions in spaces beyond settlement perimeters to funerary meals in which Canaanites would gather for communal meals, sometimes together with deities (Bietak 2003b: 165) In political and social terms, venues within which feasts were held also acted as spaces for promoting competitive displays of prestige (e.g. Zuckerman 2007a: 188). Material objects of wealth could be put on display, further promoting social hierarchy. Luxury objects were viewed as status symbols. Thus, within cultic contexts in which feasts were held, hosts and higher status individuals participating in the feasts further established their status by displaying and presenting luxury goods as votive offerings. In more hierarchic cultic settings, ritual participants partaking in communal meals would have been exposed to and influenced by what the hosts decided was worthy of display. Interestingly, hosts could at times choose to avoid objects not deemed local. Rather than favoring imports or precious objects, local items reflecting the elite ideology could be used and displayed instead. This was apparent in the near complete absence of imports from the LB II acropolis at Hazor (Bechar 2017: 240). Hazor’s Area H Orthostat Temple over time also showed an increased avoidance of Cypriot imports within the temple interior: after Stratum 2, no imports were recovered from the temple interior. Hayden suggests that amongst the material correlates of large feasting events there should be evidence of preparation vessels and food-preparation and storage facilities (Hayden 2001: Table 2.1). Preparation vessels
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could variously include unusual types, sizes and numbers of vessels such as cooking pots and might be associated with large facilities for preparing meals such as kitchens (Helwing 2003: 66). The exaggerated large size of cooking pots and storage vessels could be suggestive of quantities necessary for large communal events (Blitz 1993). In terms of resources, feasting contexts demonstrate abundance and intensified exploitation. One way in which this was reflected in Canaan was in the exploitation of materials and large workforces for the construction of monumental infrastructure. The large quantities of prestige objects and concentrations of animal bones in many Canaanite temples also indicate concerted efforts for the concentration of abundance and an intensified exploitation of resources, expensive but expendable personal items, and luxury goods. No studies have focused specifically on the relationship between vessel size and ritual contexts in the southern Levant, but it has been observed, for example, that there were extremely large cooking pots at the Lachish Fosse Temple (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. LV:352, 358) and more generally in domestic contexts at Hazor (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. LXXXVIII:3–4; Yadin et al. 1960: Pls. CX:15, CXIX:15). The numerous large pithoi from Hazor’s Building 7050 certainly could have provided massive quantities of oil, water, grain and the like for hundreds of participants in large commensal group gatherings (Ben-Tor 2017a: 140). The hundreds of bowls recovered from Building 7050 and its courtyard, in fact, accord well with both the large carrying capacities of the pithoi and with the extremely large crowds of ritual participants that could fit into the ceremonial precinct (Section 5.2.1.2). In a similar fashion, Samet demonstrated that the appearance of large specialized forms such as the large spouted kraters yielded in Kabri’s palace had no small-scale equivalents (Samet 2015: 378; Samet et al. 2017: 144). These were therefore specifically manufactured for large communal feasts. Bietak also emphasized that the large vessels and profuse amounts of ceramics from the Fosse Temple indicate the temple was a space of congregation for large groups during funerary meals (Bietak 2002: 74–75). Given the anthropological and ethnographic evidence that food preparation and storage were integral components of feasts and feast venues, it is striking that these activities were absent from many of the cultic spaces in the southern Levant, particularly the large urban temples (Part III). Yet, there is ample evidence of large storage capabilities in non-cultic contexts (e.g. palatial Kabri), suggesting the lack of storage in temples was a calculated choice. Certain temples did exhibit a range of storage, particularly the isolated shrines (e.g. Nahariya, Tell el-Hayyat, Tel Nami) and in a few cases larger temples, although in non-ceramic permanent fixtures. Examples of the latter include the silos in the Orthostat Temple and the numerous cut features functioning as storage pits in the Pella temple courtyard (Ruth 2016: 154–156). Given the overall tendency in Canaanite temples was to stress activities based around communal consumption and performance of ritual and ceremonies, the important preparatory activities these feasts would have required (e.g. cooking, storage) must have been conducted elsewhere. At the onset of the MB, ritual was communal based with a specific focus on reinforcing group identity. Along with consumption, food preparation and storage were also attested on site. In these non-urban sites, the natural landscape was the stage for ritual, feasts and worshipping the deities. When Canaanite temples became integrated into urban landscapes and were directly connected to and controlled by urban elites, the edifices and their courtyards were transformed into stages for consumption in addition to gift giving and donations to the deities or temple personnel. Only one aspect of feasting was evident, that of immediate consumption. As such, these urban elite-controlled temples were venues for hosting large meals and for promoting their elite status as well as a refined and enhanced group identify. However, these temples were not self-sustaining in themselves. They did not generally have the space necessary for conducting ancillary activities related to feasting, reflected in the assemblages’ general lack of cooking and storage vessels. These other activities therefore took place elsewhere and when storage was indicated within the temple temenos, it was mainly attested in courtyards and outdoor spaces. As such, further emphasis on temples as spaces for conspicuous consumption of foodstuffs, drink and displays of prestige goods could be promoted by elites without the distraction of the necessary but mundane activities of cooking and storage. Thus, southern Levantine temples were venues for feasts, communal consumption, displaying status, rituals, processions and festivals (e.g. Samet et al. 2017: 143–145). Chapter 17 will make use of textual evidence to support a number of these claims. In terms of commensality, temples as venues for communal gatherings and meals would have allowed for a heightened focus on the interaction between ritual and commensal participants, in addition to the increased ability of elites who controlled those spaces to manipulate and promote their status and agenda. Evidence in the southern Levant for these elite behavioral patterns is clear at Hazor,
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for example. As Part II emphasized, urban temples and their courtyards in no way could include the entire population of a settlement. More privileged individuals were included in these events, while less privileged individuals might have been left out. Thus, the form of ritual consumption in urban landscapes differed greatly from the form of feasts in earlier MB and non-urban temples. Whereas the former encouraged social and ritual differentiation which manifested itself in exclusivity and hierarchy, the latter encouraged widescale communality and inclusivity reflected in a less, although still existent, hierarchic system. 16.4.3 Social Aspects of Offerings The presentation of offerings also establishes hierarchy. Part III demonstrated that Canaanite temples were repositories for depositing luxury items of a range of values. In general, offerings can be grouped into three types in terms of their relationship between the donor and the deity. Certain offerings and rituals deal with the regular maintenance of the cult, regardless of special circumstances that might arise. These include daily, monthly and yearly rituals, as well as the day-to-day activities not part of the official cult service that trickled down into everyday life. In addition, there are two other types of offerings: those that are offered preemptively to gain favor with the deity for a particular, or more general, matter; and those that are offered in thanksgiving after having gained the deity’s favor or accomplished a particular feat. Many have interpreted the act of presenting votive offerings in Canaanite temples in accordance with these last two types of offerings (e.g. Stern 1984: 36; Ziffer 1990: 79*–80*; Ilan 1995: 313; Brody 1998: 48). These different types of offerings are identifiable in various cultic contexts. An example of regular offerings would be what is often found to be most visible in temples, that is, consumption and organic offerings in miniature vessels. On the other hand, stone anchors offered at coastal temples (Byblos, Ugarit) might represent offerings of thanksgiving following a successful voyage (Frost 1969a, 1969b; Brody 1998: 48; Wachsmann 1998: 292), while rituals conducted at times of distress such as the burial of temple paraphernalia in favissae (e.g. Areas H and A at Hazor) might have been performed to both protect cult objects and to attempt to somehow find favor with the deity at a time when the cult was in distress. Research has focused on termination rituals in moments of crisis as well (Zuckerman 2007b: 7–9, 17–26). It has been argued that MB deposits embodied a combination of two social mechanisms: conspicuous consumption and gift giving (Philip 1988: 191; Ilan 1992: 261). The data from MB and LB temples suggest the same to be true of offerings made in cultic contexts. Precious objects such as metals in general were controlled and regulated by elites, and during the MB the production and circulation of final products likely fell exclusively within the restricted spheres of the elite. In this sense, the control over metal technology and objects and exotic imported goods buttressed elite dominance, prestige status, and social hierarchy within the southern Levant. The notion of offerings as gifts to the deity suggests that elites were in better favor with the deities; they were in possession of and controlled precious objects which could readily be disposed of as expensive gifts to the deities. Others of lower socioeconomic status did not have the option or the means to forfeit such expensive possessions. This hierarchy and cycle were therefore perpetuated as long as elites maintained control of the wealth and those of lower status submitted to the official religious notion of gift giving. Thus, the greater the gift offered, the greater the influence one might have upon the deity. This conspicuous display of wealth – related to the status of the donor – would transfer prestige to the donor in the eyes of the deity, on the one hand, and in the eyes of other people, on the other hand (Ilan 1992: 262). The types of objects that generally appear to be votive offerings in the southern Levant were enumerated in Table II and Sections 7.3.1.5–7.3.1.7: figurines of various materials, bone and ivory objects and inlays, scarabs, cylinder seals, weapons, game pieces and boards, jewelry such as beads, necklaces, bracelets rings and toggle pins, imported vessels and other prestige objects and status symbols made of metal or other precious materials. The distribution of these objects at various temples presents a complex picture, not one that necessarily favors an interpretation that only in elite-controlled settings were the most precious of votive offerings presented (e.g. Nahariya). Hazor’s Orthostat Temple exhibited an immense amount of prestige objects, particularly in Strata 1B and 1A. Building 7050 similarly demonstrated conspicuous consumption and immense amounts of votive offerings displaying the highest levels of prestige. In both of these cases, it is not surprising that ample evidence for large-scale consumption and gift giving was extant. As the architecture itself suggests, both of these spaces were status symbols and venues for displaying prestige and competing with others (Zuckerman 2007a: 193–194, 199–200).
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On the other hand, Nahariya had one of the richest assemblages of votive offerings in the form of metal figurines, zoomorphic amulets of semi-precious stone, ceramic dove figurines, scarabs, and moulds for casting female figurines as well as weapons (Sections 12.1.1–12.1.3), but it is not clear what role elites played there. Further, the hundreds of miniature vessels indicate that other forms of offerings and ritual participation were possible, not solely for the wealthy. This latter supposition is supported by the hundreds of beads from the site, possibly representing small-scale offerings made by many participants. Similarly, the Lachish Fosse Temple displayed a multitude of offerings. The rich repertoire of prestige objects, including many Egyptian imports and large quantities of well-executed ivory objects, suggests that individuals with prestige and of high status were involved in making those offerings. It is possible Egyptians directly played a role in that process, or otherwise these patterns might be the result of colonial influences affecting the practices of locals (Koch 2017). The many pits outside the temple, however, indicate a large number of different events, some of which exhibit no evidence of prestige whatsoever. Thus, different types of offerings and similar offerings but of different scale were performed in the same space and context at the Fosse Temple. Thus, outside of elite-controlled urban settings, there were converging trends in which low-status and high-status offerings were presented side-by-side in temples, both during the MB and the LB. At other sites that reflected more vernacular traditions, imported pottery could have functioned as votive offerings, accounting for the extremely high proportion of Cypriot imports (nearly 60% of the assemblage) at the Tel Mevorakh temple, for example (Section 11.3). Yet, the international nature of many of the objects found at Tel Nami’s sanctuary and nearby burials – although not necessarily the most prestigious or valuable of objects – reflects the site functioning as a coastal hub for funneling foreign traffic along the coast and further inland (Section 13.3.3). Tell Abu Hawam was a site essentially established as a coastal trade emporium designed for import and export. The wealth of objects from that site and specifically from the area designated as a possible temple (Section 4.8.5) unquestionably invoke notions of prestige offering and gift giving. It is likely Tell Abu Hawam was not the final destination of the all of these objects, however. Many of the objects were probably intended to be transported either further inland to sites like Megiddo or Hazor or shipped as cargo via sea to sites like Ugarit. Evidence for this latter suggestion is clear from the Uluburun finds. Thus, as an integral activity consistently performed time and again within southern Levantine temples, the act of presenting objects at temples forged and maintained social relations within the cult. As a result of the competitive nature of gift giving, social and ritual hierarchy is evident as individuals with different socioeconomic capabilities and ritual statuses made offerings of varying values. Thus, while Canaanite cultic spaces focused on maintaining elements of social cohesion, opportunity to display status symbols and therefore emphasize and raise one’s own actual or perceived status created imbalanced, hierarchic cultic relations. 16.4.4 The Use of Iconography Various aspects of the iconography of the southern Levant have been dealt with in the past (Section 2.3.3; cf. Section 17.5). Similar to the roles that ritual and symbols play as legitimizing devices, iconography also was utilized by elites as a legitimizing tool to promote their authority through archaization, authorization and regulation (Bell 1992: 193–196; Bell 1997: 138–169; Modéus 2005: 67, 70–77, 297–298). This required an intimate knowledge of local traditions, both by the rulers and also by the locals who were exposed to the elite-commissioned symbols and iconography (e.g. Ornan 2012: 1). For example, in large-scale construction projects, local iconography could be utilized for decoration. By doing so, it signals and invokes certain culturally-learned and understood messages and ideas. All the more so, in urban religious architecture, the use and choice of iconographic images and symbols conveys ideas and messages which the elite dictate. The use and manipulation of iconographic motifs well known to the ritual participants in terms of scale, medium or pervasiveness signal to the social group social and cultural familiarity. At the same time, the context and situation are marked as different or special (Feldman 2006: 13). Iconography also acts as a trigger to a world of symbols and ideas which are meaningful to the social groups acquainted with the local traditions (Modéus 2005: 70–77). Yet, iconographic representations are never explicitly committed to a single interpretation; rather, they contain a multiplicity of allusions, are ambiguous, and lend themselves to reinterpretations, thus rendering them important symbols and tools of manipulation by those who make and control them (Feldman 2006: 20–21).
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This process was evident at Hazor, whose rulers made use of a local iconographic motif – the lion – in a number of monumental contexts. Objects bearing lions already were known in the MB from scarabs and continued to be associated with both male and female deities and with LB rulership (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 19–24; Schroer 2011: 36). These media were generally small scale (scarabs, cylinder seals, small amulets) although sometimes lions appeared in scenes depicted on stelae with a deity standing above (Fig. 16.1). In Stratum 1B at Hazor, two large lion orthostats (Fig. 16.2a) lined either side of the entrance of the Orthostat Temple (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXVIII). A nearly identical lion orthostat was found in Area A’s ceremonial precinct as well (Fig. 16.2b), either originally from Area H or possibly from Area A and thus reflecting the use of large lion orthostats in two different spaces at Hazor (Ben-Tor 2017b: 571–573). This is in addition to the head of a basalt lioness from Area A and the smaller lion orthostat from Area C that were yielded from the site (Fig. 16.3). By commissioning massive images of lions and placing them in highly visible spaces, elites invoked a familiar image with culturally-understood associations. At the same time, they manipulated the lion imagery in terms of scale and media and transformed it into something other than what it originally was. It is possible the symbol promoted notions of awe or fear, the control and authority of the local rulership, or associated religious concepts of what lion imagery represented. It is also possible that the use of lion imagery aimed to validate the establishment and enthronement of Hazor’s rulership. It was precisely during this period when the use of lion-footed thrones reached its climax in Amarna-period Egypt (LB IIA). In the Orthostat Temple itself, a basalt statue of a man seated on a lionfooted chair was recovered (Fig. 16.4a). The motif of the lion-footed throne is known to have been used elsewhere as well (Figs. 16.4–16.7), such as in the Hecht Museum stele and the Megiddo ivories (Loud 1939: Pl 4:2a,2b; Merkhav 1993: Pl. 1). Although it is admittedly speculative and presumptuous to advocate one suggestion over the next, it is inescapable to perceive in the decision to commission large lion orthostats something symbolic and imbued with meaning. It is further clear that there was a strong and controlled iconographic relationship between Area A and Area H. The basalt ceremonial basin from Building 7050’s throne room had an attached figure bearing a pendant with a four-pointed star on its chest (Bonfil 2017: 569–571), precisely the same motif found on Area H’s large basalt altar from the LB cella and on the chest of the basalt figure standing atop a bull from the same temple (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCCXXV:1, CCCXXXI:1). Further, the decorative motif on the ceremonial basin is the same motif as on the large basalt kraters found in the cella of Area H’s Orthostat Temple, the same context as the other finds (ibid.: Pl. CCCXXXI:4). These shared iconographic symbols and motifs found in both contexts reinforces the notion of elite control over both those spaces and elite control and use of iconography (compare Fig. 16.8. and Fig. 16.9).
16.5 Insights into Ritual Praxis in Canaan Canaanite ritual praxis was therefore dynamic, flexible and responsive. On one level, it functioned quite naturally as an inevitable consequence of local circumstances and social structures, while on another level, it was a tool to be manipulated by authorities in control of the cult. The diversity in forms and locations of cultic spaces as well as in activity types was therefore a response to multiple contributing internal and external factors as explored in Section 16.2 (e.g. geopolitical or socioeconomic factors). Previous studies on Canaanite religion have most often opted for static definitions of Canaanite religion and ritual as generally remaining unchanged from the MB through the end of the LB. The data does not reflect this, however. There was significant diachronic change in the appearance and practice of cult in the southern Levant. Although certain underlying tenets certainly remained constant, the active forms of cultic praxis reflect an evolving and variegated cultic landscape in which neither static nor strictly prescribed and predisposed cultural rules to which locals had to adhere were apparent. Previous studies on Canaanite ritual have mainly utilized texts from Ugarit, and more recently analogies from Emar, to posit a diverse repertoire of activities (Section 16.3.1). However, the correlation between those texts and the archaeology of the southern Levant are at best ambiguous. Without local texts, how can one positively identify activities such as the recital of hymns, the anointing of personnel or objects, or investiture rites? Even the ritual activities most often cited, such as sacrifice, libations and incense burning, have been notoriously problematic to identify in archaeological record (e.g. Sections 16.3.2, 16.3.3). In certain cases, recurring objects and furnishings indicate shared traditions. The appearance of maṣṣebot in a plethora of
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different cultic contexts and regions suggests their pertinence to Canaanite cult. Yet, they appear to have had a multitude of functions. The evidence of large amounts of consumption, displays of prestige and votive offerings indicated in the archaeological record of Canaanite temples suggests that cultic activities were primarily based around feasting and commensal meals. When these meals took place in open settings, ritual participants were more integrated and there was less evidence of hierarchy. When ritual and feasts were conducted in controlled settings such as urban temples, significantly more social and ritual stratification was evident. Individuals in control of these settings dictated the rules of the feasts and who was to be included and excluded, could decide what objects of prestige to put on display and offer, and importantly, controlled official and large-scale use of iconography. All of these elements – ritual, feasting, offerings, and iconography – were intricately tied into Canaanite ritual praxis. As such, they could also become social and political tools to be manipulated by elites. At the onset of the MB, all of these already appeared in significant ways at Nahariya. By the latter part of the MB and during the LB, these aspects of Canaanite ritual praxis were utilized and transformed into symbols of rulership and as a means of solidifying and sustaining legitimacy and authority while also forging shared group identities. These observations set the stage for the final chapter of this book which explores the active ideology behind these behavioral patterns.
Chapter 17 Canaanite Religious Structure and Ideology 17.1 Introduction Chapter 16 focused on ritual praxis, making use of social theory to interpret, in general terms, the behavioral patterns observed in southern Levantine cultic spaces. In contrast, this chapter will investigate the specific religious ideologies of the Canaanite populace. Indeed, beliefs and worldviews dictate the particular manner in which a group’s religion is organized. Renfrew stated the following: “Whether man is made in the image of God or vice versa, it is certainly the case that the deities of many human societies have been conceived of as anthropomorphic … The notion of a hierarchy of divinities is one which comes more easily to a society which is itself hierarchically structured …” (Renfrew 1994: 49–50). As Renfrew stressed, the imagery and cosmos constructed by a particular group reflects the social structures imbedded within the specific social group. Thus, one of the important contributions of sociological approaches to religion that deal with thought is that a group’s belief system as it relates to the divine is intricately related to the social realities of the specific culture of which it is a part. Still, there remains the chicken and the egg question of what came first – ritual, religious experience, or religious beliefs? That is, the religious system has doctrines and beliefs that direct ritual activity which inevitably induce religious experience (Renfrew 1994: Fig. 6.1, after Rappaport 1971). However, it is very possible that religious experience predated the more organized and systematic religious structure which for various reasons became formalized over time and included prescribed actions that reinforced or related back to the more original experience of cult. This process might aptly describe the observations of the trajectory of MB and LB Canaanite cult, from less to more formal, and from more to less inclusive, over time. This chapter aims to understand the ideology and worldviews that dictated how religion functioned within Canaanite society and how ritualized activities and symbolic actions, objects, and iconography were utilized throughout the Canaanite religious landscape of the MB and LB. It also explores how temple cult was organized and administered. In this chapter, a number of research questions are addressed. Why were certain activities performed in cultic spaces and how were they effective? What were the ritualistic tools that could be used to bring the sacred into the profane spheres of society? What role did consumption and feasting play in building group identity, in creating hierarchy, and in legitimizing elite rulership? What role did the combination of conspicuous display of prestige, the presentation of votive offerings and the use of rich iconography play in that process? What was the greater relationship between temple and community, temples in general and the rest of the landscape? How were temples and shrines integrated into the greater fabric of urban, or rural, landscapes, and what were the mechanisms by which this integration could occur? In addition, this chapter will address cult of the dead. This chapter is broken down into three aspects, one related to Canaanite religious ideologies, one related to the structure of temple cult, and a final section related to iconography. The first section on ideology deals with beliefs, conceptions of the cult, and activities that were more cognitively implemented by acting agents. I will focus on a number of themes that were fundamental in creating the religious experiences that Parts II and III identified: the motif of the divine host and invitation as an act of bringing the sacred into the profane world; the multivocality of Canaanite cultic spaces in terms of the multiplicity of divinities worshipped; ritual hierarchy as reflected in practices of consumption and presenting offerings; the process of integrating temple cult into the greater landscapes through processions and other ritualized activities; and the cult of the dead. In the section on the structure of cult and ritual, I focus on how temples and temple cults were administered and organized, how space was constructed for considering matters of ritual purity, and to what extent Canaanite temples were considered independent institutions. A final section on iconography will deal with how iconography offers insight into mythic conceptions and with the implications of diachronic changes observed in the gender, form and materials used for statues and figurines.
17.2 Methodological Approach to the Use of Text and Analogy in this Study Chapter 16 sought to describe and explain Canaanite ritual praxis based on the archaeological record through the lens of various theoretical approaches. That endeavor was therefore based on more generalizing theories that might reflect social and religious phenomena cross-culturally and through various different periods. In
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order to achieve a more fine-tuned and particularistic understanding of Canaanite religious ideology, the methodology in this chapter will additionally make use of sources relatively contemporary with and within proximity to Bronze Age Canaan. The texts primarily referred to in this chapter are those from LB archives at Ugarit and Emar, with more limited use of those from MB Alalakh, MB Mari, LB Hatti, LB el-Amarna and local MB and LB cuneiform texts from Canaan. The aim is to focus on ritual texts and texts which provide insight into religious ideologies and into temple and cult administration and organization. Thus, along with the many observations made by scholars over the decades regarding religion and ritual at Ugarit for example (e.g. de Tarragon 1980; Pardee 2000, 2002; del Olmo Lete 2014), ritual texts can also be useful for understanding certain aspects of the organizing schemes of the administering of ritual at Ugarit. The same can be said of Emar. A number of different types of rituals have been identified within the texts at Emar, including various installation ceremonies and marriage rituals of the NIN.DINGIR and maš’artu priestesses, festivals (zukru and kissu), offering lists, calendrical rituals related to annual and monthly cycles and rites for the gods of Hatti (Arnaud 1986; Fleming 1992: 201). These texts shed significant light on the administering of cult and temples at Emar, some of which reflect shared traditions with the Ugaritic ones noted above, while others differing. The effort is to identify analogies for southern Levantine behavioral patterns. These analogies work in two ways. One, in general terms, humans modeled their social and religious interactions based on those of deities, an act of imitatio Dei. For example, religious ideology was connected to elite ideologies, particularly in more hierarchic urban settings. The ideology of the smaller Levantine kingdoms was one that bound rulers and the ruled into a tight unity under the control of the gods (Wyatt 2007b: 42). In social-scientific terms, the symbolism of religion was used to reinforce and maintain the structures of stratified societies. In this sense, the gods were the epitome of the society, something that which society was structured around (ibid.). Just as Zimri-Lim received from a cult officiant the sacred weapons which Hadad used to fight Tiamat (Durand 1993, A1968), Canaanite rulers could justify their authority by claiming divine support. Thus, much of what elites did might be understood therefore as mimicking the acts of the gods. As such, analogies indicate a relationship between the mythic behaviors of the deities and actual human behaviors, tendencies and ideologies. At the same time, in identifying possible analogies and drawing comparisons between what is noted in the texts and the archaeology of the southern Levant, it is important to take into account that the texts do not portray a singular shared tradition but rather reflect many divergences in terms of ritual activity and cultic organization (cf. Sections 17.3 and 17.4). Thus, analogies must be used cautiously and carefully, and function as informed interpretations of the behavioral patterns in the southern Levant, but not definitive. 17.2.1 Sources This chapter deals with two main types of sources: text and iconography. In this approach, there seem to be three groups or tiers of texts. The first group includes texts found in or having been sent from the southern Levant, mainly local MB and LB cuneiform texts recovered from Canaan (Horowitz et al. 2018) and the LB Amarna letters (Rainey 2015). The second group of texts includes those from LB sites such as Ugarit (Pardee 2002; del Olmo Lete 2014) and Emar (Fleming 1992, 2000) and MB and LB Alalakh (Wiseman 1953) that are contemporary although not local and which nonetheless reflect certain West Semitic traditions, albeit influenced by other cultural spheres as well. The third group of texts includes those from places further afield such as Middle and New Kingdom Egypt, LB Hatti (Hazenbos 2003; Collins 2007) and MB Mari (Sasson 2015), all of which were saturated with texts, many of which deal with cult in the respective regions, and some of which refer to Canaan on occasion. The following discussion will primarily utilize the first two groups of texts. The third tier will be used only to a limited extent, although the rich corpora from regions further afield should be considered in general. Much can be said, for example, regarding the introduction of West Semitic mythological traditions into New Kingdom Egyptian literature as well as textual references to a Canaanite temple in Memphis dedicated to Ba‘al and another dedicated to Reshef in the Nile Delta (Ayali-Darshan 2010, 2015, 2016, 2017; Redford 1992: 228, 232).
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17.3 Canaanite Religious Ideologies 17.3.1 Divine Host and Invitation: Bringing the Sacred into Natural and Urban Landscapes One of the most consistent recurring activities in Canaanite temples was large amounts of consumption, particularly in the LB (Part III, Section 13.1). Along with other rituals directed toward the deities, why were these more mundane activities performed in cultic contexts? While communal consumption helped solidify a common group identity, elites also resorted to using the social activity of feasting as a mechanism to legitimize and maintain their elite status and control. Just as humans come together to eat communal meals, many traditions likewise portray the deities in mythic forms partaking in feasting activities. In the discussion on feasting and commensality, it was emphasized that hosts effectively decide which individuals are to be included. At Ugarit, the chief god of a temple played host to other deities. This is evident in KTU 1.109:11–15 = RS 24.253, which indicates that in the temple of Ba‘al, sacrifices to other gods and goddesses were also offered (Pardee 2002: 29–31). That is to say, Ba‘al functioned as a host within the confines of his house. This is reflected in mythological texts as well. In KTU 1.114:2–4 = RS 24.258, ’Ilu invites other deities to partake in his marziḥu, hosting them as they eat and drink at his divine table (Pardee 2002: 168). In fact, the marziḥu itself was portrayed as an event based around commensality in which boundaries between the living, the dead, and the divine were blurred. In addition to the deity as a divine host, the motif of a divine invitation was a common topos noted in ANE texts related to feasts (Lichtenstein 1968: 25; 1977 25–30). This divine invitation is noted again in the Feast of the Goodly Gods (KTU 1.23), a text that begins with an invitation to a feast (KTU 1.23:1–7). In contrast to many mythical texts which have the divine figure issuing the invitation, in KTU 1.23, it is likely a human, not divine, agent who extended an invitation to the gods and human participants (Smith 2006: 31– 32). The ritualistic nature of the first half of the text (lines 1–29) required a human element to the feast invitation that was otherwise reserved for deities in the narratives from myths (cf. Smith 2006: 32–33). The modeling of human action on divine action to mimic the ways of the gods is at play here. In fact, ritual texts demonstrate the practice of communal meals in which human participants ate the sacrifice offered to the deity (e.g. KTU 1.115:9–10). The deity also hosted feasts at Emar. The god’s superior status is evident during the NIN.DINGIR festival when a kubadu sacrifice that was presented to the storm god in his temple was in fact apportioned to other gods (Emar 369:7–14; Fleming 1992: 50). The chief deity of the temple functioned as the host of a meal, providing hospitality to the other gods and human dignitaries who partook in the ensuing eating and drinking within that very space. Hittite cult similarly included communal meals following sacrificial acts. In this latter case, these feasts were generally limited to a small group of temple personnel except for on special occasions such as festivals when larger portions of the population participated (Collins 2007: 163–165). The interactions which the gods had in the mythic sphere reflect real human behavioral patterns detected in the southern Levant. The importance of communal feasts during the MB and LB has been discussed at length. The role that a lead figure such as a king or local elite ruler might have played in this is most evident in the large urban migdal temples near palaces and in city acropolises such as at Hazor, Shechem, Megiddo and Pella (Section 16.2.1.1). However, non-urban and roadside temples, such as the Fosse Temple and the Tel Mevorakh temple, similarly displayed large amounts of consumption (Chapters 10–11). Feasting was not solely reserved for elite-controlled spaces. In the Fosse Temple in particular, the architecture resembled New Kingdom Egyptian household layouts, particularly those from Amarna (Bietak 2002: 63–74; cf. Spence 2015). There, the spatial organization varied but consistently had central, spacious rooms featuring raised podiums upon which the head of the house could be seated and highly visible. The family head functioned as the host both to household members and to outside guests (Spence 2015: 93–95). These trends contrast from the earlier open-air and non-urban sites that lacked the formal hierarchy associated with urban elites. The role that feasting in cultic spaces played in forging group identity was already established early in the MB (Section 4.3.6). Sacrifice functioned in two ways, one as an offering to the deity in an act of gift giving (Section 2.4.2), while the other as a mechanism for inviting the deities into the natural landscape, an invitation to imbue the profane with the sacred. With the introduction of standardized cultic architecture into the urban landscapes in the second half of the MB, these venues became spaces in which the elites, like the gods, could play host to others, whether of equals or lower status segments of the population. Those who controlled the temple and temple temenos dictated who was to be invited into the temple and when, and for what purpose and to what extent their respective involvement in temple ritual would be.
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In fact, the large quantity of consumption and the lack of storage and food preparation in most cultic spaces (Part III) stresses this emphasis on playing host for commensal meals. Chapter 5 demonstrated that urban temples and their courtyards at sites such as Hazor, Megiddo, Tel Haror, Tell el-Dab‘a and Ugarit could not have provided enough space for entire urban populations (Sections 5.2, 5.4). As controllers of temples who played host, elites dictated who was to be included, when the spaces were to be accessible, and the rules and types of rituals acceptable in those spaces. Playing host therefore worked in a twofold manner: as humans were allowed access into cultic spaces for presenting offerings and partaking in communal consumption, the deities too were enticed into those cultic spaces. One striking issue, however, is the opposition between the inclusiveness of certain spaces and the exclusiveness of other spaces (cf. Section 17.3.4). 17.3.2 The Multivocality of Canaanite Cultic Spaces It is well established that Bronze Age religion was polytheistic and included large numbers of deities. Unquestionably, contemporary West Semitic (Ugarit, Emar) and Hittite/Hurrian traditions from the ANE attest to a multitude of deities, evident in the various pantheons and deity and offering lists (Fleming 1992: 204– 209; van Gessel 1998–2001; del Olmo Lete 1999; Beckman 2002; Pardee 2002: 11–24; Wyatt 2007a: 47– 84). Echoes of a multitude of deities are subtly attested to in certain Amarna letters, local cuneiform tablets from Canaan, and theophoric elements attested to in southern Levantine names (Hess 1993; Zadok 1996). In ritual texts, it is often the case that multiple deities received offerings within a given space. Both at Ugarit and Emar, temples were apparently not used exclusively for the worship of a single deity, even when the temple was purportedly dedicated to a specific deity. As noted above, KTU 1.109:11–15 indicates that in the temple of Ba‘al, sacrifices to other gods and goddesses were also offered, and the sacrifices ranged from rams to cows to bulls and rams together (Pardee 2002: 29–31). In this particular offering list, the deity to whom the temple was dedicated, Ba‘al, was not even the primary recipient of offerings. He neither appears atop the list of offerings nor are the sacrifices offered to him more numerous or costly than those of the other deities. Although the greater ritual context does emphasize the importance of Ba‘al, the offerings specifically within the temple itself do not reflect this.112 This is also noted in many rituals and festivals at Emar (e.g. Emar 369: 7–14 mentioned above). 17.3.2.1 Canaanite Deities Identified by Archaeologists Archaeologists have variously made use of archaeological, iconographic and textual data for determining the identity of deities worshipped in southern Levantine temples. Since deities such as Ba‘al, Dagan, Reshef, or El are assumed high up in the Canaanite pantheon, they have most commonly been associated with the chief deities of southern Levantine temples. Female deities worshipped in the southern Levant likely included Asherah, Astarte, Anat and Qedeshet. Proving a correlation between specific deities and temple types has proven difficult. At Hazor, it has been argued that the storm god Hadad/Ba‘al was worshipped in the Orthostat Temple and Building 7050, a divine couple was worshipped in the Southern Temple, and either Hadad and/or El was worshipped in the Northern Temple (Zuckerman 2012: 107, 112, 116). Since these temples were all the same form, it appears that there was no specific preconceived notion directly linking temple type to a specific deity. Further, the Stelae Temple was likely dedicated to the moon god (Sin, Eraḫ) and his consort while a female deity may have been worshipped in the MB Complex of Standing Stones (Zuckerman 2012: 103, 112). Thus, many different deities were worshipped at Hazor. Within the migdal temples alone, the hypothesized identities of the deities worshipped range from Ba‘al and El to multiple deities. Further, the non-monumental precincts were arguably dedicated to other minor deities. Bourke has opted for migdal temples to be linked to El worship early on, referring to the migdal temples as having “hollow box” designs in which an aniconic deity was worshipped. In the LB, however, he suggests Ba‘al worship took hold in Canaan, possibly with the introduction of new ethnic groups (Bourke 2012: 165– 171). Thus, it is possible that reforms in the layouts and uses of temple spaces could relate to changes in the central deity of the temples (Ward 2016: 374–418). At Tell el-Dab‘a, Bietak suggested Temple III (a migdal 112
Ba‘al’s heightened importance can be seen in terms of the number of mentions of and the amount and types of offerings received by the deity. Thus, the appearance of both Ba‘al of Ugarit and Ba‘al of Ṣapunu, although another rendition of the deity, Ba‘al of Aleppo, also participates in the ritual (KTU 1.109:2,7,9,11,16,23,24).
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temple) was dedicated to a cosmic deity while Asherah worship took place in the courtyard (Bietak 1996: 36). The suggestion that the temple interior was used for male-deity worship while the outdoor space was for the worship of a female deity accords well with evidence from the Levant that open-air cultic precincts were associated with female-deity worship. At Ugarit, two nearly identical temples on the acropolis were dedicated to two different deities, one to Ba‘al and the other to Dagan (Section 4.4.1). At Ebla, the same religious architectural tradition was used for different deities. Temples D on the acropolis and P2 in the lower city were likely dedicated to Ištar, while Reshef was possibly the deity of Temple B1 and Shamash the deity of Temple N. Like at Ugarit, all of these were migdal temples (Figs. 4.31–4.36; Matthiae 1997; 2013b). Further, the monumental MB temple from Aleppo was dedicated to the storm god Hadad, contrasting from the Ebla traditions (Kohlmeyer 2012). Thus, temple form does not necessarily indicate the specific deity being worshipped. Within open-air precincts and maṣṣebot installations, there appears to have been an affinity for worshipping female entities such as at Nahariya, Gezer, the Hazor Complex of Standing Stones, the Megiddo maṣṣebot precinct and Tel Kitan (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 29–37; Ben-Ami 2006: 40–41). Yet, the situation at the Temple of the Obelisks at Byblos was different. Although the cultic space was open air with dozens of standing stones, hundreds of bronze male figurines were found and one of the standing stones bore a hieroglyphic dedication to a male deity, possibly Reshef (Section 4.3.2.1). Thus, architecture and installations alone cannot confirm the identity of the deity or deities being worshipped. The task requires a close coordination between archaeological, textual and iconographic data. Still, even efforts to connect iconography or particular animals with a deity or deity’s attributes has proven problematic and equivocal, as there often tends to be significant overlap amongst these representative forms. For example, the bull has been associated with numerous deities, including the storm god (Ba‘al/Hadad), El and the moon god (Ornan 2001; Green 2003: 20–21; 206–207). Further, lions variously have been associated with female and male deities (Cornelius 1994: 195–197; 2004: 78–79). There is even evidence of overlap in certain epithets associated with a particular deity (Rahmouni 2008: 380–384). The task for the archaeologist is to assemble all the pieces as finetuned as possible; however, speculating on specific deities might be untenable. Further, as the textual evidence demonstrates, it is to some extent irrelevant. 17.3.2.2 A Multiplicity of Deities The goal of this research is to understand behavioral patterns and ritual within cultic spaces. If temples could have served as spaces for accessing a plethora of deities, focusing on trying to identify a single entity, rather than on activities related to multiple, appears to be an oversimplification of the use of cultic space. In practice, if local elites associated themselves with a particular chief deity (e.g. Ba‘al/Hadad), the analogy taken from the above texts suggests that the privileged locals who partook in feasts were symbolically lower status individuals associated with and parallel to the lower status deities invited into the divine space. As inclusiveness was signaled by the host’s invitation, the multitude of lower deities invited in text mirrored the lower status of feast participants who were invited by those who controlled the temple. The effort for inclusive tendencies was therefore grounded in and formulated around an inevitable exclusive act within a hierarchic framework. Chapter 5’s discussion of temple courtyards demonstrated that urban temples with constructed temenoi did not have nearly enough space to host entire settlement populations (Section 5.2). By nature, they were therefore exclusive and hierarchically oriented. Whereas the interiors of migdal temples had one focal point of worship (Section 4.4), their courtyards allowed for a multitude of activities with no single focal point. In fact, in LB Hittite cult, minor deities who did not receive official temples or shrines were instead worshipped in the form of ḫuwaši stones in open spaces (Hazenbos 2003: 215–220). In the southern Levant, maṣṣebot were often found in temple courtyards (Section 16.3.4.2). A likely function of these maṣṣebot was that they represented deities. Thus, the offering tables often associated with them would indicate offerings presented to different deities. It has been posited that the Orthostat Temple at Hazor was dedicated to a storm god, based on the iconography of symbols and objects in the temple, temple courtyard, and favissae (Section 8.3.2). Regardless of the identity of the chief deity, the maṣṣebot and various spaces within the temple’s temenos would have provided sufficient space for presenting other deities with offerings (Section 5.2.1.1.2). In fact, the diverse repertoire of figurines recovered from the temple could indicate multiple deities were worshipped at the site (Section 8.2.3.4). Thus, it is a possibility that the temple facilitated the worship of different deities, even of
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different genders. At Tel Haror, the diverse faunal remains from the temple courtyard similarly suggest a range of deities were worshipped there (Klenck 2002: 81–87). In contrast to the large quantities of cultic activity in the courtyard, the temple interior – which was the focal point for worshipping the main deity – had restricted access and was sealed off by way of a locking mechanism (Brandl et al. 2014). Open-air cultic sites, on the other hand, differed in terms of how feasts were conducted and the types and frequency of rituals that were performed, possibly related to which deities were worshipped. It has been argued in numerous studies that open-air cult and early non-urban MB religion was oriented around femaledeity worship (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 29–37), in contrast to the large urban temples that were generally dedicated to male deities (Section 17.3.2.1). This was not always the case, however, as the discussions of Ebla and Byblos above demonstrate (Section 17.3.2.1). At Gezer, the row of maṣṣebot might indicate a diverse group or groups that came together in the open-air precinct for ritual activities related to multiple deities (Sections 4.3.5, 5.3.3). In any event, the reality of the assemblages, distribution of furnishings and layout and accessibility of the various spaces in Canaanite temples indicates that temples could very well have been conduits not only for worship, communication and communion with a single deity but for numerous deities as well. 17.3.3 Ritual Hierarchy Created by Culinary Rules, Portions, and Conspicuous Consumption One basic function of feasts and communal events at large is that they create, or rather emphasize, an inherent or constructed hierarchy within ritual participants and society more generally (Dietler 2001: 65–94; Pollock 2012: 9–12). Explicit and implicit hierarchies are evident in the textual data as well. For one, not all deities received the same offerings (e.g. KTU 1.109; Emar 369: 7–14). Likewise, during human feasts, not all participants receive the same portions (Dietler 2001: 85–88). Just as there was hierarchy in terms of the amount of investment for a particular deity or during specific rituals, so too during feasts that comprised human participants. This inequality emphasizes and buttresses respective social statuses (Pollock 2012: 11–14). The underlying modalities of the imbalanced distribution of food coupled with visible expressions of status through presentations of prestige goods consolidates and reinforces the heightened status of the hosts in contrast to the lower status of the hosted (Dietler 2001: 50–53, 55, 58–59). In Emar ritual texts, some offerings were apportioned solely for the deity, other offerings were shared by humans and gods, and certain portions were consumed only by elites and important dignitaries. The nature of social integration and the boundaries between different groups within the hierarchy are reflected in all aspects of the feast, from food preparation and presentation to the commensal meal afterwards (Sallaberger 2012). The various stages of feast preparation and the noted hierarchy of these feasts reflect general observations of human commensality (Pollack 2012: 5–13). Expenditure in different species and receipt of certain animal parts indicates hierarchy as well. This is not only evident at Emar in terms of ratios of ovids/caprids to bovids, but at Ugarit as well. The economic expenditures invested in providing offerings and sacrifices for the various gods at Ugarit imply hierarchy (Pardee 2002: 222–226). The majority of offerings mentioned in the Ugaritic ritual texts were animals, followed by garments, vegetal products and metals (ibid.: 225). While the god El appears many times in texts – 15 times receiving offerings in ritual texts as well as in deity lists – he only receives a total of 60 offerings (ibid.: 222). This is in contrast to Ba‘al, who receives 561 offerings, by far the most indicated by the ritual texts. While El was certainly important at Ugarit, he required relatively little economic investment (ibid.: 224). On the other hand, the royal investment in Ba‘al was significantly more extensive and indicates a preference for Ba‘al. Further at Ugarit, a total of 3,052 offerings mentioned in the ritual texts (ibid.: 224–225) would have required significant amount of investment, and supply, from various sources. Who supplied these? The temple personnel? The palace or king? The city? The countryside? It is likely that various ritual and social actors from various statuses were involved. A number of zooarchaeological studies have emphasized a general preference for domestic animals within MB and LB temple precincts (Section 2.4.2). These trends might indicate culinary rules within certain contexts or possibly the general ease and low cost of obtaining, slaughtering and consuming domestic animals. If everyone consumes the same general meal and portions, less social differentiation is evident. However, hierarchy might be detectable when non-domestic animals appear within cultic contexts or when preference for certain parts, or sides, of animals is evident (e.g. Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007).
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Hierarchy can also be seen during commensal activities in which different portions and body parts were allotted to various participants and deities. At Ugarit, hearts, necks, livers, snouts and kidneys were select portions offered to deities (Pardee 2002: 224–225). At Emar, other parts, such as lungs, hearts, heads, intestines, fat, hide, haunch and hock, could be offered to a range of different cultic personnel in addition to deities (Fleming 1992: 135–136; Fleming 1997: 430–431). In fact, in Emar texts, different groups of cultic personnel consistently received the same portions, demonstrating that offerings and certain parts of the animals’ bodies were reserved for various social identities and indicating hierarchy within the greater society (Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007: 104–105). Zooarchaeological studies have suggested that cross-culturally, there was preference for one side of the body over the other, most often favoring the right (Davis 2008; MacKinnon 2010). However, the number of studies is limited and to date, none specifically focus on Bronze Age Canaan (although see recently Greenfield et al. 2017). Certain body parts such as foot or skull bones found in Building 7050’s courtyard at Hazor have been interpreted as the prized portions of high culinary esteem within the cultural milieu of the Hazor urban elite, likely consumed by important officials and temple personnel (LevTov and McGeough 2007: 105). Alternatively, these could possibly be understood as undesired refuse or the byproducts of on-site butchering in the courtyard itself. It is significant in and of itself that there is a manifest manipulation of the bones in many cultic assemblages that demonstrate certain preferences for certain portions, whether they be for culinary, sociological, or religio-ideological purposes. Conspicuous consumption in terms of culinary preferences and the extent of investments in the amounts and types of food consumed feasts also indicates hierarchy. This form of conspicuous conception is most apparent in temple courtyards which often yielded large quantities of animal bones, although at certain temples ample quantities were also recovered from temple interiors (e.g. the Fosse Temple). At the ceremonial precinct in Area A at Hazor, the domestic bones were mainly composed of sheep and goat (ca. 67% of the total bone assemblage) and cattle (ca. 30%), with significantly fewer pigs, equids and dogs (ca. 1.7%). Nondomestic animal bones were also recovered from the same contexts, although in relatively less abundant quantities (ca. 1.7%): fallow deer, mountain gazelles, dabbling ducks, and Nile catfish (Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007: Table 5-1). The data demonstrates that in a large ceremonial and palatial context, not only were exorbitant amounts of meat consumed but non-domestic animals comprised a limited portion of the cuisine as well. Indeed, texts from Emar indicate a similar phenomenon where sacrifices were mainly domestic animals with occasional examples of gazelles, venison, birds and fish being offered as well (Fleming 1992: 135; Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007: 104).113 Similar patterns have been demonstrated in possible LB temples at Tell Kazel and Sidon in Lebanon. The vast majority of animal bones from both sites were domestic goat, sheep and cattle. Yet, a range of wild species such as wild boar, gazelle, fallow deer, dog, cats, bear, birds, turtles, fish, mollusks and reptiles also appear as part of the assemblages, possibly indicating their limited acceptance at those sites (Chahoud 2015: 12–18). Returning to Hazor, various possible explanations could account for the appearance of non-domestic species. It is possible that such a range of culinary tendencies is related to the preferences exhibited by the city’s elites. If so, such a diversity of sacrificed animals would reflect the ability of those elites to differentiate themselves and set themselves apart from others, with the elite controlling and consuming the small group of non-domestic animals. It is also possible that the range of animal types reflects the existence of a number of individuals or groups of varying social status that either brought various types of offerings (domestic versus wild) or that consumed various types of offerings during large festivals. In this case, while elites would have been mediating consumption through the control of ritual space, a sociological element might reflect the types of people presenting offerings (farmers, shepherds, hunters), possibly even as tithes. Another suggestion deals with the role the city elites played in maintaining control over managing, supplying, distributing and consuming various domestic and non-domestic animals. Not only would the non-domestic animals reflect elite preference for less commonly offered species but also the proportions of domestic animals sacrificed and consumed would reflect conspicuous consumption, an indication of surplus, power, and social hierarchy (Lev-Tov and McGeough 2007: 98–107). Domestic animals also produce by-products of value such as milk and wool and thus factor into the economics of sacrifice. The inclusion of game animals in temples reflects the agency, desire, and power of the occupants of the temples, particularly since during this period hunting and the exchange of game products were performed by elites in the Levant (Marom et al. 2014: 61 and citations therein; cf. Pfälzner 2013). The 113
See also Fleming 1997 for references to fish and venison as well.
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appearance of exotic species such as Nile perch at the temple at Sidon attests to long distance trade with Egypt, and the consumption of these exotic species undoubtedly relates to the temple’s elevated status regarding the control over the consumption of exotic, non-domestic animals (Chahoud 2015: 19–21). Similarly, at Lachish, Tell el-Far‘ah (S) and Megiddo, the consumption of exotic imports from Egypt indicates prestige and local acts of emulating foreign status symbols (Koch 2014).114 Thus, commensality and feasting create inherent imbalances in social relations. In ritual and cultic contexts, these imbalances extend to creating ritual hierarchy. When organic remains such as food stuffs and bones are preserved and properly recorded and analyzed, they have the potential to contribute in significant ways to our understanding of ancient culinary preferences and the imbalance in distribution patterns that might be indicative of hierarchy. While much of Canaanite ritualized activity emphasized hierarchy, it also would have needed to relate to notions of community and a general sense of inclusiveness. Otherwise, ritual would not have been sustainable for long. The Emar zukru festival in particular invoked a strong sense of group solidarity through communal cultic activities. The very name of the festival, zukru, has been understood in an Akkadian sense as “naming” or “invoking” (Fleming 2000: 122) on the one hand, or rooted in the West Semitic sense of “remembering” (Pentiuc 2001: 197–198). The communal aspect is evident during the festival when all residents exited the city limits to partake in rituals based around sikkānu stones (maṣṣebot), likely recalling an older communal tradition which included consumption. Returning to the festival’s name, if it is to be understood as invocation, it might be referring to the invoking of the city’s chief deity, Dagan. On the other hand, if zukru relates to remembering, this implies the festival might relate to the remembrance of the city’s deceased ancestors (Cohen 2007: 330–331). As the discussion on maṣṣebot demonstrates (Section 16.3.4), sikkānu stones might be related to either deity worship or cult of the dead, leaving open the possibility of a festival of invoking, remembering, or some combination of the two. Similarly, festivals in Hatti show efforts to include non-urban segments of the population, thus integrating the greater Hittite society into the official cult (Collins 2007: 163). While migdal temples in the southern Levant would have therefore created inherent hierarchic relations, the likelihood that within urban landscapes multiple cultic spaces existed resulted from a general attempt to maintain a holistic sense of group identity and inclusiveness within the cult. Hazor’s multiple temples might have been the result of such an effort (Sections 4.3.4, 4.4.2, 4.8.4). Growing evidence for multiple cultic spaces at Lachish further presents a fruitful future for exploring this possibility (Section 4.8.1). The open-air cultic spaces situated within natural landscapes had inherently more inclusive-oriented activities. Specifically with regards to consumption, Nahariya displayed multiple spaces with ash deposits that were possibly remains of cooking installations and food preparation. The distribution of multiple spaces indicates a more inclusive setting for multiple parallel individuals or groups to prepare food. The resultant consumption was less controlled and hierarchic. 17.3.4 Beyond Temple Cult: Integrating Temple Ritual into the Surrounding Landscape One tool at the disposal of those who controlled ritualized activities was the use of different spaces during processions, ceremonies and larger festivals. As such, temples were not utilized in isolation; rather, they were integrated into their surrounding urban or rural landscapes. In the LB at Emar, rituals during the NIN.DINGIR installment were performed at the NIN.DINGIR’s residence, the NIN.DINGIR’s father’s house, the bīt tukli (a possible storehouse) and bīt Gadda (Fleming 1992: 72), in addition to the temple. Temples could be locations for making consecutive offerings and also served as one of many stations throughout the duration of the festival cycle. When the soon-to-be NIN.DINGIR priestess leaves her father’s house prior to her final installation, a procession proceeds in which she offers a sacrifice to Adammatera at the bīt tukli, then navigates to the temple of dNIN.KUR to offer dNIN.KUR a sacrifice as well as provide food for other gods, and then proceeds to the temple of dIM where the priestess additionally presents an offering to dIM and other gods before hosting a feast for the men of the qidašu and the city elders (Emar 369: 60–68; Fleming 1992: 56). This sequence demonstrates the integration of urban temples into a larger web of interactions and activities that utilized additional spaces throughout the city. Some of these spaces were not necessarily cultic, but rather gained their cultic significance during the rituals themselves. Thus, the offering presented to Adam114
This act of consumption of foreign imported foods – a symbol of status and prestige – perhaps functioned in a similar fashion as the use of imported objects such as Cypriot zoomorphic vessels by local elites.
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matera at the bīt tukli, likely a storehouse, transformed it into a cultic space, a location which otherwise would not normally be designated as cultic. It is also clear that liminality was viewed as significant enough to evoke ritual. Thresholds, entrances and doorways were spaces in which ritual was frequently conducted. During the zukru festival, many different focal points of ritual were in effect. The main event takes place, multiple times, outside the city at “the gate of the sikkānu stones,” where a communal feast for all of Emar takes place, followed by the anointing of the standing stones with oil and blood, driving Dagan (a statue) between the stones, and performing a subsequent kubadu offering on arrival to the great city gate (Emar 373, Fleming 2000: 76–77; 239–43). In this particular festival, Dagan was the chief deity being worshipped and head of the pantheon, but he was not exclusively featured in receiving offerings. In fact, “all the gods of Emar” are mentioned as receiving offerings in various parts of the festival. As part of the festival, the statue of Dagan was literally transported throughout the procession, symbolizing the movement of the deity through the religious landscape during the festival. Similar transportation of cult statues is evident at Ugarit (e.g. KTU 1.91:10–11 = RS 19.015). Likewise, texts from Ugarit indicate ritual movement through different spaces and that processions utilized the urban landscape. Various spaces of cultic activity such as the bt b‘l ugrt, the “temple of Ba‘al of Ugarit” as well the bt il, bt ilt, bt b‘lt btm and bt mlk are indicated in the ritual texts from Ugarit (cf. KTU 1.41; Levine 2011; Pardee 2002: 228 for additional spaces).115 The designation of bt mlk, which likely means “royal palace,” indicates that public ritual involving processionals took place inside city palaces as well (Pardee 2002: 228–229; DULAT, 245–246). These processionals were composed of gods or goddesses entering the palace (‘-r-b), that is, the bringing of the cult statue (or statues?) into the palace, a subsequent banquet in the interior of the bt mlk, likely a large court or throne room (in the case of KTU 1.43:1–3, this feast was held in the presence of other astral deities), and then various offerings which included sacrifices that took place after the procession (Levine 2011: 94–97). In fact, this form of ritual, “entry” rituals, was an old Amorite practice long known from Mari (MB) and Emar (LB), where cult statues of the gods were brought from a rural sanctuary into the city proper as part of large-scale processionals (Pardee 2002: 69). It is possible these extramural sanctuaries existed in the southern Levant but have yet to be uncovered. Further, the smaller sanctuaries within the greater city (e.g. Hazor’s Stelae Temple) might have functioned as such ancillary localities from which processionals could have marched upwards toward palaces or larger temples (see also Merlo and Xella 1999: 298, 302–304; Fleming 2008; Shai et al. 2015: 128–129). Thus, during any given festival, multiple locations of ritual and sacrifice functioned simultaneously (Levine 2011: 94–97). At Ugarit, the king was emphasized as a central player in the cult. Direct relationships between the palace and temples were established during ceremonies through processions that moved between the two spaces and in which the palace supplied much of the offerings to the deities. The Hittite KI.LAM festival similarly featured processions in the capital, Hattusa, which emphasized the king’s regional authority over the surrounding towns and royal control over the central redistributive system (Collins 2007: 113). These texts also provide insight into the ritual participants partaking in processionals. During the zukru festival, the entire populace was involved, while during the NIN.DINGIR installation festival, a processional included transferring sacrificial offerings preceded by singers and followed by the divine weapon and the priestess. Divine weapons similarly appear as part of LB Hittite cult and at Alalakh in the MB, a weapon which is before (pa-ni) Ištar, perhaps divine, received offerings (Zeeb 2001: no. 50:3; Lauinger 2008: 200). As processions moved through urban landscapes, the complexity of sacrificial ritual was demonstrated. Sacrifice was not an isolated act in and of itself, but rather was part of a complex web of activities and movements that led up to and followed the sacrifices. Further, the insight that weapons could be divine objects or even representations of a divinity that were moved and received offerings could explain why in certain instances, weapons with no signs of use have been recovered from cultic contexts. Thus, two different models of integration are evident, one which involved including the entire community and that expanded to the hinterland (Emar) while another that aimed to unify the palatial and cultic spheres (Ugarit). Both utilized the movement of personnel, objects and offerings during processions. Do these reflect 115
Although it seems these were separate locations around Ugarit, the texts are not clear about this. Levine even questions whether these are separate temples altogether where parallel rites took place in tandem at separate locations dedicated various deities but during the same overarching occasion, or whether these were small “chapels” or names for installations located within the same greater temple, such as the mdgl (tower), urbt (aperture), gr (cave) and mdbht (altars) (Levine 2011: 94).
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behavioral patterns noted in the southern Levant? One major issue in attempting to map out the use of MB and LB landscapes for the purpose of processions is the limited exposure of sites, at large, and a generally poor understanding of the contexts directly surrounding Canaanite temples. Even when temple and courtyard contexts are defined and well understood, the surrounding spaces such as roads, approaches to the temple precincts, surrounding structures and neighborhoods are generally poorly understood. Further, very little is currently known regarding contemporary cultic spaces within a given site. Trying to map out movement through space is therefore not fully possible. However, certain instances suggest that architecture was constructed in such a way as to allow for the navigation of spaces into more or less restricted zones, perhaps related to ceremonial processions. Chapter 5 (Part II) explored the issue of approach to temples and how courtyard space and associated structures might have been navigated through during ritual activities. At Byblos, a complex of poorly aligned rooms led to the courtyard of the Temple of the Obelisks, restricting and controlling movement in the process. At Hazor, manipulated and planned movement through different constructed and open spaces might be suggested in a number of locations. The orientation of the Area H temple facing the high tell suggests a relationship between the two, further supported by the monumentality of Area H’s architecture and its shared construction type (the migdal form) with the Area A temples, first the Southern Temple and then the Northern Temple and Building 7050 (Zuckerman 2012: 117). The approach to and movement through the acropolis is also evident, where different spaces restricted mobility and directed ritual actors from one space to the next (e.g. Bonfil and Zarzecki-Peleg 2007: 27–32, Fig. 2). Processions undoubtedly displayed power and control over formalized religious actions. Additionally, they expanded the reach of elite control over the integrated urban landscapes. While a basic aspect of processions therefore relates to establishing and sustaining hierarchy, elements of inclusiveness are visible as well. The zukru festival included the entire community of Emar, reaching beyond the immediate circle of specific deities and their local cults (e.g. dIM or Dagan). This inclusiveness is reflected by the entire pantheon at Emar actively partaking in the festival as well. Similarly, the use of processions moving through public spaces expanded the sacred landscape into the profane and domestic spheres of the rest of the community. This made religion publicly visible, proclaiming the authority of the sacred over the mundane affairs. This did not always translate into complete access to cult ritual. The restricted and limited spaces of temple courtyards precluded entire urban populations from participating in many of the rituals that would have taken place there. Still, the populace was symbolically brought into the realm of the sacred during these tangible, physical and highly visible processions. The stress on inclusiveness was particularly important in urban settings for rulers trying to maintain a coordinated sense of community. The structure of festivals such as the zukru was clearly urban-centric, focusing on the central importance first-and-foremost of the city’s and palace’s major deities before other minor gods of the landscape and then surrounding regions were joined in (Cohen 2007: 334). However, the ritual enabled the integration of earlier, more ancient traditions. These rituals could be viewed as responsive to new unfamiliar situations taking place in urban and elite-controlled settings. The integration of older traditions provided a sense of ritual familiarity amongst the populace and could have therefore served as a mechanism to encourage the general acceptance of new traditions, rituals or rules into the cultic system. Ritual in this sense was a mechanism for maintaining the perception of the continuity of traditional ways, even when change and transformation were being undertaken. The dialectic between the exclusive tendencies of hierarchic ritual systems and inclusiveness is undoubtedly symptomatic of official urban cult. Thus, there was a need to have a performative act in which the city gods, in front of the entire populace, were marched out to the countryside in order to partake in a massive communal meal. This meal took place following sacrificial offerings and was subsequently followed by the ritual anointment of the sikkānu stones. Certain old traditions still played a significant role at Emar even once the Emar cult essentially had become an elite-controlled urban phenomenon (Arnaud 1995: 15–20). In this specific case, while the inclusiveness of the deities involved demonstrates the overall inclusiveness of the zukru festival rituals, extreme measures were also made to demonstrate the divine hierarchy and to define an Emar version of a pantheon (Cohen 2007: 333). This process of the effects of urbanization, or perhaps more accurately, integrating older less-structured traditions into formalized urban settings, can be seen in MB Canaan as urban centers later in the MB began to integrate a standardized form of cultic space in place of the earlier non-urban, rural or extramural open-air cult spaces. As Wright appropriately noted, the courtyards of
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these temples were the access points which connected the newer cultic structures to the more ancient traditional and communal practices of the populace (Wright 1985: 225–227). This ritual inclusiveness would probably be most felt in the southern Levantine open-air and rural or roadside cultic sites, which lacked the more structured and formalized restrictions of and access to enclosed spaces. The large amounts of storage and food preparation at these sites indicate that there was a necessary communal concern within the cult itself for the storing and preparation of food to be consumed, or offered, during ritual activities. The lack of food storage and cooking in most urban temples, on the other hand, suggests that the act of consumption gained the ultimate importance and that there was an emphasis on promoting elite status and social hierarchy. Studies at Tall Bazi have interestingly suggested that cooked food and drink were brought to the site’s temple from private residences during ritual (Otto 2012: 189–190). Storage and food and drink preparation were personal and private matters conducted on the household level, while the final activity of consumption, and the associated offerings and rituals, were intended for larger communal events in the temple (Section 14.3.2). Similar to the southern Levantine cases, it is likely that these commensal feasting activities took place in the temple courtyard, not the temple interior. Thus, the construction of the Orthostat Temple might have been an effort to portray the inclusive nature of elite-controlled cult at Hazor in Stratum 3. The placement of the temple on the far north of the tell, opposite and facing the acropolis palace and Southern Temple, could have served as a tool for encompassing the entire urban establishment under the influence of the local rulers. In its earliest phase, the courtyard was particularly spacious. Overtime, however, the courtyard became significantly smaller and more restricted and controlled, indicating a tendency toward exclusiveness (Section 5.2.1). With regards to Building 7050 and its courtyard, there was an additional emphasis in terms of food preparation and storage that generally was absent from other monumental temples. It is evident that the concerns of this ritual complex within its greater palatial setting were wider in scope, pointing to the complexity of the function of the structure (Section 16.2.3). To summarize, it is particularly difficult to confirm whether large-scale processions could have navigated through city streets and temples. There generally is not enough horizontal exposure at sites to reveal even whole neighborhoods (Area C at Hazor being an exception), and unfortunately, sites that do exhibit wide exposure (e.g. Tell el-‘Ajjul, Tell Beit Mirsim) have not yielded well-defined cultic spaces (Albright 1938: Pls. 50, 51; Herzog 1997: Fig. 4.9). Studies on urban settings well understood in the Mycenaean world provide useful conceptual models for how constructed spaces were navigated and controlled but are not currently implementable due to the fragmentary state of the data from the southern Levant (Maran 2009: 80–85). Similarly, it is difficult to ascertain what the ritual tending to and caring of cultic statues might have looked like, or if it happened at all.116 Further, it is impossible to determine if and how objects might have been moved through ritual spaces. The study of the distributions of finds such as presented in Part III showed that in many cases, it is possible that objects were used and moved around in various parts of the temple complexes. Weapons were also attested in Canaanite temple contexts, sometimes exhibiting no use or wear; this could therefore represent the possibility of a divine weapon, although this is merely conjectural. Liminal zones and spaces, such as thresholds and entrances into courtyards or temple interiors, might have been spaces within which ritual and bodily transformations took place, as texts indicate. As Part III demonstrated, certain contexts exhibited possible rituals and offerings in these spaces, such as the Lachish Fosse Temple’s entrance room in the later phases and the propylaeum at Hazor’s Orthostat Temple. Liminality still requires further exploration. Along with liminal zones, hinterlands and spaces beyond city walls are not well understood and underexplored in archaeology in general (cf. Yadin 1972: 63; Garfinkel 2009). In the future, more focus must be placed on understanding these spaces. This will positively contribute to a better understanding of Canaanite cult throughout larger urban and extramural landscapes.
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In certain cases, the remains of gold foil were found covering parts of metal figurines (e.g. Lewis 2005), possibly indicating the ritual tending to and care for cultic figurines. The fact that gold was a valuable commodity also suggests it was possible that a statue was covered in, but not made of, gold to give the figurine the appearance of being of pure gold. One might wonder whether the miniature-sized vessels found in many cultic spaces relate to the notion of feeding and providing for the deity.
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17.3.5 Conceptions of Cult of the Dead 17.3.5.1 Textual Evidence Somewhat beyond the bounds of simply worshipping deities, there seems to be a large body of evidence for cult of the dead, particularly from Ugarit and Mari. Pope focuses on two terms, rpum and mrzh, to emphasize a cult of the dead at Ugarit that was part of a much wider West Semitic tradition (Pope 1981). In KTU 1.161, the monarchy identified itself with ancient cultural traditions of the heroic deceased ancestors, the rpum, (Smith 2007: 19; cf. Levine and de Tarragon 1984; Wyatt 2007b: 62–66). Various texts mention three different ranks of divine kings – rpum, mlkm, and inš ilm. These texts include a possible kispum rite, a pantheon list referring to mlkm (deceased kings), ritual texts in which inš ilm (deified ancestors/divine people) receive offerings, and the invoking of the deceased/deified kings to support the kingdom and receive blessings from the higher deities (e.g. KTU 1.20–1.22; 1.39:21–22; 1.41:27,29,40; 1.46:8–9; 1.87:29–32; 1.90:7–8; 1.105:26; 1.106:1–2,7–8; 1.112:5–6; 1.123:31; 1.132:14–17,21,24; 1.134:10; 1.171:5; 1.73:7–8; 1.161; 1.108:1; see Wyatt 2007b: 62–66; DULAT, 81). Thus, a close connection between ancestor worship, deified kings, and the power of the monarchy is apparent at Ugarit. The rpum texts, KTU 1.20–1.22 (Lewis 1997: 196–205), have been particularly important for reconstructing concepts of the dead at Ugarit more generally, where rpum were invited to feasts and portrayed as journeying to banquets located at threshing floors (Pitard 1999). There is no scholarly consensus regarding the identity of these rpum: spirits of the deceased; a group of deities who join El during special gatherings; living members of the aristocracy, possibly chariot warriors; or a combination of these three (Pitard 1999: 263– 264). Pope, following Schaeffer, connected the intramural burials beneath residential houses and their associated installations to Ugaritic cult of the dead (Pope 1981: 159; Curtis 1999: 17–18; but see Pitard 1994). In addition to erecting an ancestral stele (KTU 1.17 I:26–27), a son’s responsibility also included eating the father’s portion in the temples of Ba‘al and El (KTU 1.17 I:31–32), a possible inference of kispum-type rituals at Ugarit (Pardee 1996: 279). The ritual texts from Ugarit, however, display little certainty regarding mortuary practice or cult of the dead (e.g. Pardee 1996: 281; Pardee 2002; contra del Olmo Lete 2014). There is similarly limited evidence for cult of the dead at Emar (e.g. Fleming 2000: 175–189). At Mari, the kispum not only included food and drink offerings, but was associated with Ištar, who reentered Mari after the kispum festival, which was followed by a festival together with other deities (Pardee 1996: 275–276). The physical syntax of the ritual indicates that the kispum was not performed at fixed times, that it involved maneuvering through spaces that were not central temples, and that it involved the movement of Ištar back into the city following the performance of kispum rites. No direct evidence is extent in the southern Levant for these rites. This does not mean that acts of caring for the dead by providing meals and offerings for deceased ancestors, the mourners and the gods (Katz 2014: 72) did not take place. In EA 131: 28–31, the king of Byblos petitions to the king of Egypt to send troops lest he be killed and left to be a corpse cast away with “no one to care for his funerary offerings.” This particular statement can only be understood as indicating conceptions of care for the dead, clearly related to kispum rituals in which the living were obligated to make offerings and feed deceased kin. 17.3.5.2 Archaeological Sources for Cult of the Dead The possibility of some form of ritualized communal activity commemorating a group’s shared deceased ancestry could place these rituals in communal spaces. Although uncertain, the unique repertoire of iconography, stelae and cultic objects (basalt statue, lion orthostat, crude figurines) from the Area C Stelae Temple might have been such a focal point. Important in this analysis is contextualizing the bronze standard found in the Area C neighborhood (Fig. 9.7). The temple’s iconography-bearing stele and the basalt statue with a crescent pendant both depict lunar imagery (Figs. 9.3, 9.4), the basis for most suggestions that the shrine was dedicated to the moon god – either Sin or the local Semitic rendition Yarikh according to the Ugaritic pantheon (Yadin et al. 1958: 88–89; Zuckerman 2012: 103). The bronze standard not only bears a crescent moon but also depicts the goddess with snakes, possibly attributes of Ištar or a local female deity having assimilated either Mesopotamian or Egyptian attributes. Although no extent textual references directly associate Ištar with snakes, a close association between Ištar, lions and snakes was identified at Ebla in an Area P favissa (F.5328) in which clay figurines of females, a carnelian lion-shaped bead and bronze snake figurines were yielded (Marchetti and Nigro 1997: 22–29, Figs. 11–16; Marchetti and Nigro 1999: 279) as well as hundreds of complete vessels and other objects. The
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lion orthostat in the Stelae Temple would support this identification. Further, in the Descent of Ištar, Ištar is the daughter of Sin. When Ištar descends into the underworld, there is deep concern in line 36 over suckling babies dying before their time (Lapinkivi 2010: 10, 30; cf. Ornan 2012: 13). It is implied that the younger generation would therefore not be present or alive to attend the older generation and deceased ancestors during the kispum rites (Uri Gabbay, personal communication, 2017). In the Ebla favissa, it might not be a coincidence that many of the objects in addition to the female figurines were domestic and utilitarian in nature such as basalt grinders, loom weights and spindles (Marchetti and Nigro 1999: 279–282) – all objects associated with activities performed by women in antiquity (Ebeling 2016: 468–469). Thus, there is a strong link between the iconography noted at Ebla and Ištar, on the one hand, and that of Hazor, on the other hand. Returning to the Hazor Stelae Temple, the bronze standard of a female, associated with the lunar emblem as well as snakes, in addition to the ceramic mask and a number of spaces in the neighborhood associated with female activities, on the one hand, and the lion orthostat in the shrine itself, might indicate elements of Ištar or Astarte, for example. Combined with the Ugaritic concept of relating standing stones to deceased ancestors, the Stelae Temple might be a space for kispum rites in which the maṣṣebot were related to ancestor worship. The moon deity imagery and Ištar imagery relate to this as attested to in the Descent of Ištar, where the latter is referred to as the Daughter of Sin. The statue of a man holding a cup then, might represent a deceased ancestor, possibly of local significance and high status. Further, kispum rites often included dedication of figurines on behalf of the dead (Katz 2014), thus the motivation for locals to leave behind crude figurines in the Stelae Temple. However, little activity was actually detected from inside the shrine itself. Thus, the large open courtyard between the shrine and the rest of Area C likely served as the open venue for these activities.
17.4 The Structure of Cult and Ritual 17.4.1 Temple Administration: Cultic Personnel and Hierarchy One manner in which ritual and religion are structured is through formal, organized prescriptive rules and the personnel necessary to perform and aid in the performance of ritual. The existence of contrasting forms of social hierarchy might be indicated by different forms of Canaanite cultic spaces. Extramural open-air sites would have elicited a different form of cultic administration than constructed roadside shrines. Even more so, larger urban temples such as migdal temples, smaller neighborhood shrines in urban centers like Hazor, or rural sanctuaries like at Givat Sharett, would require a different system of ritual personnel. The administration, management and organization of ritual and temples is not directly discernable in the southern Levant. It is possible the large urban migdal temples, for example, were important institutions with many assets provided by multiple sources (e.g. the temple itself, the palace/king, other local rulers or noblemen, the locals). Smaller, less complex temples, rural sanctuaries and open-air cultic spaces, on the other hand, might have required fewer personnel. However, this cannot be confirmed through firsthand documentation. In the case of large temple enterprises, it might be expected that an institution dealing with significant amounts of movements of assets and people would have some form of record keeping. A number of non-local textual sources offer various insights into ritual actors. In many cases, stress seems to be placed on the ritual primacy of the king. At Ugarit, texts that mention a ritual actor indicate that the main ritual actor was the king himself. No other personnel are mentioned in the ritual texts except for holy officials whose role it was to sing (the “holy ones”, from root q-d-š).117 Non-ritual texts mention priests (root k-h-n) who appear to have been administrative personnel (Pardee 2002: 239; DULAT, 428–429, 685–686).118 Similarly, texts from Hatti stress the king as a central figure in the cult, involved in cult organization and in maintaining uniformity and standardized forms. The king was unquestionably concerned with and involved in the organization and correct performance of official cult throughout the various regions and sanctuaries of the state under his authority (e.g. Hazenbos 2003:1–3, 201–203). This is further evident in the consistency and routinization noted in the characteristic sequence of activities performed during various festivals, particularly the celebration of seasonal festivals (ibid.: 168–169). At Alalakh, the king was both ritually, and economically, involved in the temple cult. The king, Yarim-Lim, dedicated a statue to the temple of Ištar (Wise117
There was another possible cultic official related to the ṯā‘û-sacrifice, referred to as the ṯā‘iyu, although the precise role and socioeconomic stature of these individuals are not understood (Pardee 2002: 239). 118 It has been suggested that priests were the main ritual officiants as in other ANE contexts (Lipiński 1988: 126). However, there is no direct textual evidence of this from Ugarit (Pardee 2002: 243, n.24).
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man Alalakh text no. 1:10) and is reported to have paid, and owed, silver to the temple (Wiseman Alalakh text no. 127: 10 and 15).119 Offerings to the temple on the king’s behalf are also listed in the same text, such as 300 birds, 4 goats, 400 pots of oil and manna, lambs, and honey, and the restored reading of the broken fragment of the text suggests that without washing the hands (of the king or priest?) prior to entering the temple, the offering would not be accepted (Wiseman 1953: 63). Additionally, there is reference to offerings of barley, emmer and sheep given to the temple by the palace administration and limited references to other cultic personnel: the priest of Ištar (lúSANGA) and the diviner (lúUZÚ) (Lauinger 2008: 197–200). A less involved and quite limited role of the king is noted from the texts at Emar. Although the Emar king participates in banquets for dignitaries, receives the choice and first portions of sacrifices during the NIN.DINGIR installation, and during certain rituals such as the zukru festival he is the principal source of animals and vessels, the king never appears to be featured as a leading or primary ritual actor (Fleming 1992: 99–100). Rather, it is the people of the city who are mentioned to partake in ritual in the temples. Thus, the mārū Emar (the “sons of Emar”) celebrate the NIN.DINGIR installation and zukru festivals, that is, the populace of the city at large was to partake in the Emar rituals (ibid.: 86). Cultic personnel include the NIN.DINGIR priestess of dIM, the maš’artu priestess, the diviner (lúḪAL, likely read bārû),120 singers (zammārū),121 the NIN.DINGIR’s father, the men of the qidašu,122 ḫussu-men, bēl bīti (the “lord of the house”),123 the king of Emar, the king of Šattapi, the elders of Emar, the nugagtu (ritual crier) and the ḫamša’u (Fleming 1992: 80–105; on the role of the elders of Emar in ritual, see further Bunnens 1989; Fleming 2008: 39–40). This extensive list of ritual personnel contrasts from the information provided from Ugarit. The more involved roles and functions of different individuals in the Emar cult resembles the multitude of cultic personnel noted in Hittite cult, plausibly a byproduct of strong Hittite influences at the site (Cohen 2011). Further de-emphasizing the centrality of the Emar king, it was not the king alone who provided offerings. During the NIN.DINGIR installation festival, other sources as well supplied offerings including the nupuḫannu-men, the men of sheep, possible heads of local clans (Fleming 1992: 98) as well as the temple of d NIN.URTA, the temple of dNIN.KUR, the house of the bēl bīti and the palace (ibid.: 109–117). This demonstrates a concerted communal effort for supporting rituals and offerings during festivals. The burden of the economic expenditures was broadly distributed amongst different individuals and institutions. During certain festivals at Hatti, community-wide involvement is attested as well (Collins 2007: 163). In another sense, the various institutions, private and public, provided different quantities of a range of materials, indexing inherent hierarchy in terms of who was required to supply what and who had the means to do so without the risk of receiving no actual material return. An administrative text from Hebron, Hebron 1 (Horowitz et al. 2018: 89– 92), indicates multiple sources or individuals transferring domesticated herd animals. Various quantities of cattle, sheep and lamb were provided, and the last line reveals the end goal was to make offerings. It is not specified in the text to whom the offering was presented, although it must have been to a deity; the verb naqû is only used when describing offerings for gods, never to humans (CAD N/1 336–341, “naqû”). Thus, there is local support for a multiplicity of resources providing material for ritual. Strikingly, during the NIN.DINGIR festival, the temple of dIM which was the main temple during the festival was not required to provide any offerings. Rather, the temple was the destination of ritual and processions, and a location for feasts, offerings and sacrifices. During this particular festival, the temple of dIM profited significantly in terms of intake, while offered little material output other than the actual space of the temple itself. Thus, while offerings from different sectors of the settlement exhibited community, the same act also indicated hierarchy. These insights are most useful for addressing the greater complexity of religious composition within urban settings. A direct relationship between rulership and temple is likely at a number of Canaanite sites. The close 119
Further, silver and gold payments were made to the temple of Ištar as punishment for breaking a contract (Wiseman Alalakh text no. 61:18). 120 For the somewhat unexpected position and roles of the diviner at Emar, cf. Fleming 1992: 87–92. 121 The singers (zammārū) at Emar led processions, without any explicit mention that they sang or played instruments during the processions. They also performed hymns for specific deities. Considering they received the third largest sum in payments at Emar, they were probably also wealthy (Fleming 1992: 92–94). 122 The men of the qidašu headed a list of feasters, conducted the priestess to her father’s house and were likely ritual administers who gave the sanctification-offering (Fleming 1992: 94–96). 123 The bēl bīti supplies, butchers, and prepares sheep and cattle for offerings in the NIN.DINGIR installation as well as the kissu festival (Fleming 1992: 97–98).
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association between temples and palaces or an elite-controlled acropolis suggests control over and confined access to ritual spaces. In MB and LB contexts at Hazor, Shechem, Megiddo and Pella, for example, there appears to be an integration of cultic architecture into palatial architecture similar to that noted at Alalakh and Ugarit. The exact relationship between rulership and cult is not clear, but the close proximity of religious and civic institutions suggests an integrated dynamic in which the two were connected. The extent to which a hierarchy of cultic personnel existed in the southern Levant is difficult to assess. On the one hand, the temple architecture noted in Mesopotamia, Hatti, and Egypt comprised large, multichambered complexes that not only served as spaces for ritual but as multifunctional structures and institutions providing administrative activities as well as food storage, food preparation and other matters related to the maintenance of the cult. This included supporting the cultic personnel who would have lived within the complexes. In those settings, it is easy to understand the necessity of a large quantity of cultic personnel, and accordingly, ritual diversity in terms of the functions and statuses of personnel. On the other hand, Canaanite temples were comparatively simple in layout, never more than three or four rooms, and more commonly, a single chamber surrounded by, or facing, a more open and inclusive courtyard. The syntax of the ritual geography in no way indicates either the spatial capacity or the necessity for extensive and quantitatively numerous personnel. There are exceptions to this, however. Hazor’s Orthostat Temple had a number of structures associated with the courtyard, evidence of specialized industry and evidence of extispicy and thus the likely presence of specialized and trained cultic personnel (cf. Chapter 8). The monumentality of the palatial architecture and the large amounts of pottery, small finds and animal bones from Areas A and M in the MB and LB at Hazor likely would have necessitated a “larger-than-normal” group or groups of personnel than at other Canaanite sites. Further, an extensive workforce would have been required for such extensive construction projects. Although the texts from Emar display a wide range of specialized cultic personnel, the site’s temple architecture was quite simple, more closely related to the simple forms of the Syro-Palestinian structures than to the large temple complexes of the surrounding ANE (Fleming 2000: 4–6). Expecting to find structural indicators for diverse and hierarchic organizational schemes of cultic personnel might therefore be misguided. Clearly other factors would have been at play. Thus, the extramural site of Nahariya displayed multiple industries including metal and ceramic production and would have required some personnel with the appropriate expertise to be present. Further, the meticulous supervision that is evident in ensuring the proper use of miniature seven-cupped bowls so as to never mix the contents of one cup with another indicates a high level of ritual prescription at the site. This would have required the presence of specialized personnel to ensure ritual was performed properly. Similar local and specialized industries were indicated by the excavators of the rural temple site of Tell el-Hayyat as well. 17.4.2 Ritual Purity Cultic space in the southern Levant was likely organized and dictated according to rules of ritual purity. Texts across the ANE throughout the Bronze Age acknowledge intricate systems and conventions of ritual purity, of being ritually fit for performing cultic activities, and even being in a ritually-fit state in order to enter sacred spaces (Feder 2016). The organization of temple architecture was mapped out in Part II. Temple interiors were of the most restricted access, while more accessible courtyards were enclosed by a temenos wall. Logically, spaces beyond the temenos (the city proper) were the most accessible of spaces. Throughout the efforts to perform ritual in controlled and proper manners, ritual purity was a constant concern according to texts from Ugarit, Emar, Hatti and Alalakh (Pardee 2002: 234; Wiseman Alalakh text no. 126:39; Collins 2007: 98, 178–180). Various participants (e.g. the king, priests) had to be ritually fit to participate in sacrificial acts and other activities. Concepts of bodily purification are attested (Pardee 2002: 234) which could include ritual ablution by way of washing of one’s hands (Wiseman Alalakh text no. 126:39), while anointing and rituals of rites of passage such as shaving one’s head marked transitional stages when ritual actors were being transformed into new statuses within the cult (Fleming 1992: 177, 180–182). Accordingly, it is very likely that in the southern Levant, certain spaces and objects were constructed in accordance with and in order to preserve the local rules of purity. Zuckerman suggested that scoops found in LB contexts related to activities of ablution. These scoops were often found in cultic or otherwise public ritual settings (Zuckerman 2007c). These scoops might have had multiple functions, one of which was to ritually pour liquid (water) during acts of bodily cleansing, such as noted in the texts with relation to body
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and hands. Similarly, large basins and water jars which sometimes occur in temple contexts could have served as receptacles for holding water of purification (e.g. Byblos, Hazor Area A, Lachish Fosse Temple, Beth Shean Level VII temple, Megiddo Temple 2048). Further, the need to pass through points of liminality such as thresholds and to enter into more restricted spaces could have required the performance of rituals or the presentation of offerings. The propylaeum from the Hazor Orthostat Temple which granted access into the temple courtyard from outside of the temenos was lined with benches and was furnished with stone installations that could have functioned as offering tables. The entrance room at Fosse Temple III, Room A, was found with many objects that were apparently left as offerings (Sections 10.1.3.1, 10.2.3). These types of spaces, courtyard and temple entrances, were portals of liminality through which ritually-fit individuals could pass and offerings would be made. Further emphasizing concepts of purity were the use and distribution of favissae (Section 7.4.1). Only on rare occasions were favissae found inside temples, likely the product of very specific ceremonies under a specific set of circumstances. Rather, favissae were mainly identified outside of temples. Practical considerations would have favored avoiding digging holes into the floor of the temple. However, the removal of vessels no longer fit for use in cultic activities and their burial beyond the temple edifice indicates a hierarchic notion of sanctity and purity in which the temple interior was the most sacred, while space beyond the temenos was the least. In open-air settings, these rules of purity and liminality may very well have existed, but ritual in those cases was much more integrated into natural landscapes. Clear-cut boundaries differentiating between sacred and profane spaces were generally less clear (cf. Shai et al. 2019). 17.4.3 Temples as Institutions In a letter from the Amarna archive, EA 137:61, a temple at Byblos is mentioned, É DINGIR.MEŠ-si, a “temple of its (the city’s) gods.”124 The king of Byblos reports that the temple has much property, possibly large amounts of gold and silver. This brief reference to property and a temple suggests that at Byblos, the temple administered property, whether stored in the temple itself or something more extensive including possessions throughout the city. It is also possible that the property stored in the temple belonged to the elites or palace. This was the case in MB Alalakh, where a small group of tablets recovered from the site’s temple demonstrates the palace administration’s involvement in the temple economy. Payments of silver belonging to the palace were recorded and stored in the temple (Lauinger 2008: 194–195). Thus, there was a direct relationship between the palace and the temple (ibid.). This presents the possibility of the palace having direct control of the temple, although a more horizontal relationship between the two institutions is possible. Considering the Level VII temple was part of the larger palatial complex (similar to Megiddo, Hazor, Pella), there was no physical separation between the two and therefore the former possibility seems likely. Returning to Byblos, the notion of temples having property of their own recalls the well-documented Mesopotamian and Egyptian temple enterprises which functioned as administrative and landholding institutions as well as religious institutions (e.g. Kemp 1989: 191–197; Roaf 1995: 426–431; Margueron 1997: 165–167; Averbeck 2010: 6–8). Texts from Emar indicate that the material and supplies for ritual during festivals and in temples were provided by a number of different institutions and sectors of urban life – public and private, temples and palace (Section 17.4.1). This being the case, temples appear to have had some sort of independence and leverage over others at Emar, capable of garnering materials for cultic activities without having to partake in the expenditures. As such, temples as institutions at Emar undoubtedly played an important role in the fabric of city life. The data from the southern Levant is complex. In large urban elite temples connected to palaces, it seems likely there was a direct relationship between the cult and the rulership. Rural and extramural sites evade any clear connection to rulership. Suggesting that open-air cultic spaces were institutions that controlled land or property is a particularly hard argument to maintain. However, the irregular temples of the LB which were often constructed beyond the bounds of normative urban centers indicate that the institution of religion was a necessity to certain segments of LB society whom the urban temples did not satisfy. As such, although these temples may not have been holders of large amounts of property or land, they certainly functioned with an expressed independence and were somehow self-sustaining. 124
It is also possible the determinative MEŠ, a plural marker, is modifying É, “house”, and not DINGIR, god, and thus the term could be read as temples, not the temple of the gods.
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17.5 Iconography 17.5.1 A Glimpse into Ancient Scenes, Motifs and Religious Imagery Excluding Nahariya and Byblos, the southern Levant during the MB I was not particularly rich in iconography. Visual art was largely limited to Egyptian imports, comprising mainly glyptic art in the form of scarabs that were decorated with non-figurative, ornamental motifs and Egyptian hieroglyphs, signs and symbols, sometimes even bearing royal names and titles of other Egyptian officials (Ben Tor 1997; 2007: 10–41). Later in the MB, both northern Levantine traditions from Syria and Lebanon and Egyptian influences were attested. On the local level, symbols and traditions received from external influences largely became integrated into the fabric of southern Levant and took on local forms and meanings. Certain aspects of pictorial art developed unique themes, such as the local form and depiction of the branch goddess (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 19–48; Schroer 2008: 15, 34 and passim). In the LB, Egyptian influences on the region’s iconography were heavily felt, varying from imported Egyptian objects and official Egyptian stelae executed by Egyptian authorities to the appearance of Egyptian themes and motifs on local iconographic and artistic traditions (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 49–108). The Hecht Museum stelae and the limestone statuette from Tel Ṣippor demonstrate the latter case (Biran and Negbi 1966; Merkhav 1993). This period also witnessed an increase in incised objects, particularly of ivory and bone, functioning as decoration or inlays and often bearing motifs known from Egypt (e.g. Ben-Tor 2017c).125 Still, continuity of shared traditions with and influences from the northern Levant unquestionably persisted as well, particularly at Hazor. This was also a period when there was an integration of foreign traditions in Egypt as well, demonstrated in the fusion of Egyptian and Levantine religious, iconographic and textual traditions during the New Kingdom.126 In the southern Levant, there was a clear interdependence between Egyptian and Near Eastern motifs being used, especially in the domain of status symbols and the ideology of local rulers in their engagement with the international networks within which the southern Levant was centrally located and involved, even if somewhat peripherally (Feldman 2006; Schroer 2011). Iconography offers a unique visual glimpse into larger cultic scenes (Mazar 1981; Beck 1983: 78). Statuary of metal, clay and stone, as well as forms not recovered such as of wood, were static objects. Whatever their precise use and meaning might have been, they resembled figures from larger scenes depicted on stelae, scarabs and cylinder seals. In these more elaborate depictions, human and divine figures were placed in more intricate contexts related to other objects, symbols, animals, people or deities. In some cases, it might even be possible to reconstruct the acts of certain deities according to the depictions in those scenes (see recently, Naeh 2018). For example, figurines of Reshef might recall scenes known from Reshef stelae. These stelae – which have been recovered in Egypt in temples, palaces and private houses and depicted scenes far more elaborate than the figurines – bore scenes of worship, offerings and other activities focused around images of the deity.127 Accordingly, the medium of depictions in relief on stelae helped contextualize certain aspects of cult images of which figurines themselves were otherwise silent (Cornelius 1994: 180). Similarly, Beck (1983) demonstrated the similarity of the figure depicted on the Stratum 2 Hazor plaque recovered from Area H (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXIX: 1,2) to more elaborate images on cylinder seals (e.g. Cylinder seal No. 905 from the Ashmolean Museum) in which a nearly identical individual was depicted with animals (monkeys, a Horus falcon, a lion), a tree, a human worshipper facing the figure, an apparent male deity in a kilt and double crown of Egypt standing behind the figure and additional symbols of a crescent and winged disk with snakes (Beck 1983: Fig. 1a,c). A cylinder seal from Tell el-Dab‘a depicts a Syrian weather god (Ba‘al/Hadad) with a complex integration of imagery, including a variety of animals (bull, lion, goat, snake, bird) and objects placed in the deity’s hands. The scene also includes the smiting deity standing astride atop 125
Cf. Megiddo (Loud 1939), the Lachish Fosse Temples II and III (Tufnell et al. 1940), and Tell el-Far‘ah (S) (Petrie 1930) for LB ivory objects. 126 Canaanite iconographic traditions were well integrated into New Kingdom depictions. Semitic religious concepts were introduced during the Hyksos period, noticeable in temple architecture and glyptic forms. During the New Kingdom the sharing of traditions was even more pervasive, with the rise of Ba‘al and Reshef in pictorial form, Ba‘al being associated and fused with Egyptian Seth (e.g. Cornelius 1994: 159–160 and passim). 127 Reshef stelae, functioning in both public and private religion, often depict worshippers bringing offerings and standing in praise alongside offering tables. In some cases, the worshipper holds a small chalice burning incense (Cornelius 1994: 50–52, Pls. 3, 4). In another one, two stands with bowls atop are burning incense (ibid.: RR33).
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two mountains and facing a ship. The associations between the deity, the twin peaks and the sea are clear, possibly recalling known mythological stories or aspects and attributes of the deity circulating at the time (Porada 1984; Yasur-Landau 2017). Another example of this is one of two stelae currently on display in the University of Haifa’s Hecht Museum (Fig. 16.4b), which depicts a deity nearly identical to divine images on metal figurines from Ugarit and Byblos (Fig. 16.5; Negbi 1976, Figs. 55 and 56 respectively), a limestone statuette from Ugarit (Yon 2006: 131, item 13) and a stele from Ugarit (Fig 16.6) which once again depicts a nearly identical male seated upon a lion-footed throne (Schaeffer 1937: Pl. XVII, Fig. 1). In the stele from Ugarit, a worshipper stands opposite the seated deity holding a vase and scepter, and both are beneath a winged disc with an eight-pointed star. This stele provides more detail than the other examples regarding the surroundings and scene within which the seated deity was situated. The stelae and figurines in this specific case bear similar attributes of shared local and integrated foreign elements, but the stelae contain more information and complex imagery. Similar inferences can be assessed of the relationship between certain deities and animals. In statuary form a zoomorphic representation might be isolated, but otherwise known to be associated with certain deities or scenes in representational, inscription or textual form. Figurines rarely include both the anthropomorphic and zoomorphic forms together. The basalt iconography-bearing figure standing atop the bull recovered from Hazor’s Orthostat Temple was a rare exception.128 This figure was undoubtedly associated with worship and was possibly the representation of the temple’s chief deity. Other images and mythological associations help conjure up notions of what that cult image might have meant to ritual participants and elite alike and what it was perceived of being capable of invoking in its original context. The fact that the media were diverse can alternatively suggest a different function of the objects (e.g. an object of functional utility while another for purely decorative purposes), different spaces within which they were originally used (e.g. public space such as temples or palaces with high visibility versus personal or elite use in private residences or burials), and possible intentionality of the objects to have remained stationary versus being mobile. With regards to the last possibility, figurines and stone statuary likely were mobile, brought to a location from elsewhere and if indeed ritual objects, were treated with respect, clothed, cleaned, and even transported during ritual processions and ceremonies. However, sheet metal figurines might have additionally been used for decorative purposes, possibly as inlays or jewelry. This stresses the importance of analyzing not just the images themselves but their scale and the medium upon which they were depicted. Further, the context within which these objects were used and viewed, and the other associated objects and iconography that would have been viewed in tandem, must also be taken into consideration in the analytical process. Different media were used in different contexts for different purposes. Some might have been decorative while others were objects used during ritual or other activities. It is important to ask how individuals viewing the iconography in antiquity were affected by the imagery. What did an individual perceive when viewing these images? What associations would have been made when an individual saw, held, or performed ritualized activities with or in the presence of iconography-bearing objects? Does the gender of figurine signify the gender of a deity being worshipped? And if so, did ritual participants partaking in cultic activities perceive objects such as figurines as being conduits that triggered associations and memories of deeper, more extensive mythological scenes, stories and worldviews that were imbedded within their local cultural contexts? These questions betray clear answers. However, in certain cases such as in the production, form, morphology, material and distribution of figurines, the appearance and change of certain iconographic bearing images might reflect local ideology. 17.5.2 Figurines, Gender and other Media: Diachronic Change as Reflections of Elite and Non-elite Ideologies As urbanization in the southern Levant came to its floruit in the latter part of the MB, there was an apparent shift of concerns from subsistence-based decision-making for purposes of survival to more diverse matters characteristic of a more stratified, complex urban society that was increasingly integrated into long-distance international trade networks. During this process, migdal temples became integrated into elite-controlled urban landscapes and were instrumental in promoting elite-dictated ideology, concerns and conceptions of 128
Note in metal form, two bronze figurines from Byblos were recovered from the Champ des offrandes that had images of a male standing on a bull (Negbi 1976: 21-22, Fig. 26, items 372 and 373).
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group identity. There appears to be a theological shift as well around this time reflected in changing iconographic traditions. In the earlier MB, there was an emphasis on male and female deities alike, and even an equality noted amongst male and female worshippers (e.g. Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 47–48). This shifted at some point during the LB, when there was a heightened emphasis on male deities and patriarchy promoted by urban elites, with females apparently receiving demoted and secondary status. This is particularly evident in the diachronic change in metal figurines from the MB through the LB. In the MB, there is evidence for both solid cast male and female figurines in Egyptian and Anatolian poses.129 In fact, there are more extant examples of female figurines in this period (Negbi 1976: Tables 1–3,5,10,12). There are also many examples of sheet metal figurines already as early as the MB I; these are overwhelmingly female (Negbi 1976: 80–82, Table 13). Whereas solid cast figurines were more costly, three-dimensional and intended to be viewed from all angles, sheet metal figurines were less precious, two-dimensional and thus meant to be viewed frontally. It is likely the latter served as pendants or inlays for various purposes (Negbi 1976: 2). Their schematic forms might suggest they were not considered elaborate decorative elements that would be applied to official decorative scenes. It is also possible that sheet metal figurines could have served other apotropaic purposes. In the LB, all solid-cast figurines were male.130 The “male warriors in smiting pose” figurines from wellstratified contexts date to the LB, the earliest being the one from Lachish Fosse Temple I.131 Similarly, the first appearance of seated or enthroned males in the southern Levant, all solid cost, is dated to the LB as well, and have been found in LB and Iron I contexts at Hazor, Tell Abu Hawam, Megiddo, Beth Shean, Beth Shemesh and Tel Ṣippor (ibid.: Table 8).132 On the other hand, females depicted in metal continue into the LB in the form of sheet metal figurines and pendants, which are generally representational and schematic, sometimes only bearing symbols associated with female deities, and do not represent expensive cult images (Negbi 1976: 95–103, Table 17,18). Although related to religion, these were unlikely official cult objects, although in Lebanon the Tell Kazel examples were found stashed in Cypriot white-shaved vessels and the Kamid el-Loz figurines were recovered from an LB temple storeroom. At Hazor many were recovered from the ceremonial precinct of Building 7050 in Area A (Badre and Gubel 1999–2000; Badre 2006: 74–77, Fig. 8; Hachmann 1980: 37, 66; Ornan 2017).133 At LB Tel Batash (Mazar 2006), two sheet figurines belonging to Negbi’s Palestinian-representational group were recovered from Stratum VII Building 315 and Building 481. One is worked in repoussé, with its feminine features emphasized by two dots indicating breasts. It is also noteworthy that a pair of cymbals was found in Building 315 associated with the figurine (Mazar 2006: Photo 92) as well numerous beads, spindle whirls, scarabs, and cylinder seals (Panitz-Cohen 2006b: Fig. 17, Table 54). The Tel Batash context was domestic. Given the wealth of objects and imports, it is likely this structure with its accumulation of prestige and cult (?) objects was limited to the ruling elite of the city (ibid.: 190–194). As solid-cast metal figurines depicting females disappeared in the early LB, the phenomenon of clay plaque figurines depicting females emerged; all are from LB contexts (some have been found in early Iron Age contexts as well).134 These figurines generally depict a naked female standing, possibly a goddess.135 They were most commonly represented holding plants in both hands (Cornelius 2004: 46–48). Males were generally not depicted in this same medium. Many of the clay figurines are from unknown contexts. When 129
Male figurines made of solid cast metal first appear in the southern Levant in the MB I, in Anatolian pose at Megiddo in Stratum XII and in Egyptian pose in Megiddo Stratum XIIIB. Those in smiting poses only appear in the LB in Canaan, although already in the MB they appear at Byblos. Female metal figurines occur as early as the MB I and are more heavily attested than male figurines (compare Negbi 1976: 8–59 to Negbi 1976: 61–105). 130 There are only a few sheet metal “plaques” of males and they depict benedictory poses, the one from Hazor and then one from Tell Abu Hawam and Beth Shean (Negbi 1976: 44–45). 131 They have also been found at Megiddo, Beth Shean, Shechem and Beth Shemesh (Negbi 1976: 32–33). 132 This only includes the figurines that are well-enough preserved to typologize into a particular type. 133 Unfortunately, Ornan does not provide additional details or specify where these were found (Ornan 2017). 134 A few examples of anthropomorphic clay figurines depicting females have been recovered from MB contexts, such as at Megiddo (Loud 1948: Pl. 19:20) and at Tel Haror (Nahshoni 2015: 62; Fig. 74). These seem to be part of a different tradition than the LB figurines, and in contrast to the LB figurines, the MB examples have been found only in cultic contexts. 135 See Tadmor 1982 for a now generally discredited claim that the type referred to as “Astarte plaques” depicted women in beds, analogous to Egyptian concubine figures, and were related to local funerary practices.
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provenance is known, they generally have been found in private houses, burials, and sometimes cultic contexts (see Pritchard 1943: 87; Winter 1987: 128–129; Kletter 1996: 62; Peri 2013: 1019–1023).136 The examples specifically depicting goddesses – those depicted holding plants and with a Hathor coiffure for example (e.g. Tadmor 1982 and others) – have been thought to relate to domestic fertility cult, and were perhaps used by women (Mazar 2006: 252). As noted, this proliferation of clay female figurines is in stark contrast to the lack of metal female figurines in the LB. Clay plaque figurines largely replaced metal figurines as a medium for depicting females. Producing clay figurines was relatively cheap. They were more easily executed and attainable, reflecting vernacular iconography and the art of everyday life (Cornelius 2004: 62–65). Therefore, while the more expensive forms were mainly used for depicting males in the LB, a cheaper form of representation was reserved for depicting females. As political environments shifted, and the urban elites consolidated wealth and control over the dissemination of their ideology, male deities became the primary focus of the official cult. This is most evident in the emergence of the manufacture of expensive solid-cast metal figurines for male deities, an exclusive activity (cf. Badre 1980: 143; Moorey and Fleming 1984: 77–78). The paralleled emergence of females and female deities being portrayed in the form of clay plaques and the cheaper, schematic and representative metal pendants and figurines of sheet metal might indicate that there was a vernacular continuity in the local veneration of goddesses (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 97), albeit somewhat removed from the official cult. At the time this shift in gender and material occurred, there was an increase in media used to depict feminine aspects of deities, such as clay plaque figurines, gold pendants and sheet metal figurines, the more elaborate gold plaque from Lachish and symbolic motifs on painted pottery. This seems to be reflective of the vernacular traditions in LB Canaan which resorted to a multitude of different, and cheaper, forms of expression for depicting aspects of their religious belief systems. In the ceramic and pendant traditions, the depictions of the goddess were representative, schematic, or completely symbolic. They were not as elaborate as the solid cast metal figurines, yet they did not bear any less meaning or significance to the southern Levantine populace. There was also a bourgeoning of decorative motifs on pottery at this time, with images of females represented by the sacral tree, generally flanked by caprids and birds, and with some evidence of water and fish motifs as well.137 In the case of the Lachish ewer from the Fosse Temple, the connection between goddess and tree was made explicit (Figs. 10.7:6, 10.8). This association was not unique to Lachish, as there is a long history connecting goddess worship to nature scenes such as trees and animals (Keel 1998: 20–38). Interestingly, already in the MB clay figurines depicting females were well attested in Syria (e.g. Badre 1980, Marchetti 2007; Uziel 2011) and continued to be used there in LB contexts (Maeir 2003: 202; Weissbein et al. 2016: 44). At Ebla, clay figurines of females were found both in domestic and cultic contexts (e.g. Badre 1980: 143; Moorey and Fleming 1984: 77–78; Marchetti 2000; Peyronel 2008: 180, 183) suggesting an integration of private and public cult throughout the landscape. Considering the large amounts of commonalities noted between Syria and the southern Levant during the MB in terms of city planning, architecture and material culture, it is striking that clay figurines have rarely been yielded in MB contexts. Even more so when one considers the close relationship between cultic architecture, metal figurines, and glyptic art throughout the Levant during this period (Uziel 2011). This avoidance in the MB might be ideological in that it is possible cultic practices in the southern Levant refrained from using clay figurines. Thus, choice and agency were at play. Active decision-making initially prevented and then later in the LB allowed for the use of female clay figurines in the southern Levant.138 If clay figurines in domestic spaces indicate domestic cult, 136
One was recently recovered from Level M-7 at Megiddo in a burial dated to the MB III–LB I or LB I (Peri 2013: 1019–1023). This accords with Keel and Uehlinger’s suggestion that these first appear at the onset of the LB (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 54). 137 This relationship between female deities and nature has often been termed the “mistress of the animals.” Mitannian cylinder seals, many of which have been recovered from cultic contexts in the southern Levant, represented the female deity with similar motifs (cf. Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 51). 138 In this light, it is interesting to point out that in the LB, three unique Syrian-style figurines have been recovered from the southern Levantine sites of Tell eṣ-Ṣafi, Tel Ḥarassim, and Akko, otherwise not appearing in the southern Levant while common in the northern Levant. The Indo-European names of the Amarna period rulers of these sites suggest they themselves were not local but of northern origin. That being the case, it is possible the local rulers continued fostering northern cultural and religious connections, tangibly visible in the rare appearance at these sites of the symbol-laden northern figurine type (Maeir 2003).
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either there was no domestic cult in MB Canaan or there was simply a different form of domestic cult in Canaan that scholars have yet to identify. Another suggestion, relating to the form of influences and contacts between the northern and southern Levant, might indicate that the theoretical “Amorite” migrations or invasions as once suggested were not as extensive as once thought. If there was in fact an influx of foreigners, then locals from the north left behind or abandoned what seems to have been an integral aspect of household and public cult (see also Sharp et al. 2015). Thus, when there was a stronger sense of cultic unity (MB), there was a refrain from resorting to the use of clay figurines depicting females. On the other hand, the weakened nature of the southern Levant during the LB allowed for the introduction of these clay figurines into Canaanite cult. While the LB elites strengthened their control over urban centers and official cult, they did not have complete authority or control over vernacular cultic practices. In contrast, the lack of clay figurines from MB contexts and the many solid-cast metal female figurines relate to a rulership during the MB that had a firmer grip over notions of cultic unity and group identity amongst locals (Uziel 2011). In addition to metal and clay, stone on rare occasions was used to make figurines. Statues made of stone demonstrate different traditions, such as the rare basalt examples from Hazor, on the one hand, and the limestone statue from Tel Ṣippor in the south, on the other hand. Those from Hazor, well executed, were objects with only a few parallels, dated to the MB in the north in Syria. The limestone statue at Tel Ṣippor, on the other hand, dates to the end of the LB during the Ramesside Period and demonstrates strong Egyptian influences. The seated figure, likely a local ruler, wears an Egyptian wig but is clothed in local traditional southern Levantine garments (Biran and Negbi 1966: Pl. 23). In this way, foreign influences are visible leaving their mark on local iconographic traditions. This took place in a region of Canaan under a strong Egyptian administrative and military presence; it is likely the local ruler at Tel Ṣippor would have recognized himself as a local authority under the control of and submissive to Egyptian rule. It might not be a coincidence that both these stone statue traditions were used locally to depict seated rulers. Local rulership in Hazor was clearly connected to the north and local rulership in the region of Tel Ṣippor was related to Egypt, likely in a more direct manner. The fusion of foreign with local traditions was therefore reserved in this case for elites. To summarize, three significant changes in iconography can be witnessed. First, from the MB to LB, there was a decrease in equality of gender represented in well-executed solid-cast figurines; by the LB, all examples were male. Second, figurines of male deities took on mainly warrior or enthroned poses. The most precious of cultic objects reflected a particular political situation in the LB that amounted to elite control over the production or procurement of metal figurines of males to the complete exclusion of females. Further, the few well-executed statuettes in stone all depicted seated males, emphasizing male elite status. Third, while there were noted remnants of MB sheet metal female figurines continuing into the LB, there was an increase in new popular forms of portrayal of females: clay plaque figurines, metal pendants and plaques, and more schematic artistic representations on the LB ceramic repertoire. The shifting iconographic traditions of the MB and LB relate to other diachronic changes in the organization of religion in Canaan. Whereas male and female in MB contexts were equals, in the LB, females were demoted in iconographic traditions, and possibly in terms of social status within society. Rather than depicted as divine or human couples, the iconography stressed the secondary, submissive status of women. This is particularly pronounced in the Megiddo and Tell el-Far‘ah (S) ivories in which subservient females are depicted as serving seated princes during processions (Keel and Uehlinger 1998: 65, 96–97). The political stress on local rulers in the LB emphasized militaristic themes, victory over enemies and bringing home spoils of battle (ibid.). Although these notions existed prior to the LB, new political concerns of the LB (e.g. the New Kingdom Egyptian domination of the region, a fractured political system with somewhat ineffectual local rulers) altered the emphasis of prestige religious iconography to that of the power, and enthroned kingship, of the male deity. As urban rulers sought to legitimize their own authority, the portrayal of divine imagery in the most expensive forms became limited, and controlled, by the elite concerns and ideology.
17.6 Discussion: Insights into Religious Ideology through Analogy Through analogy, a number of insights into why Canaanite ritual was performed and how it was administered have been posited. Fundamental to Canaanite ritual was the effort to invite and bring the deities into the profane. As conduits for this process, Canaanite cultic spaces were utilized as stages or venues within which sacrifice, consumption, ritual and other forms of cultic worship were performed. On the one hand, these
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activities were directed toward the deities, thus creating a relationship between ritual participants and the divine. On the other hand, these activities were dictated, controlled and participated in by humans. As ritual actors, significant effort was put forth to legitimize the specific form and types of activities that were performed within temple cult. Ritual not only had cultic but social implications as well. While much of Canaanite religion and society at large was kinship based and rooted in conducting group activities emphasizing communal concerns, inherent power dynamics and hierarchic relations were created and maintained, particularly within large urban temples. Temples also served as multivocalic spaces within which a multitude of different deities were hosted by chief or resident deities of the temple. In an effort to model themselves in the image of the acts of the deities, elites could host a multitude of ritual participants in ritual and communal meals. While utilizing the role of the host of the feast to include a large group of individuals, hosts also established their status in the cult. Whether myth was constructed to reflect the status of elites, or elites constructed their image as reflections of already known mythic acts of deities, is irrelevant. In either case, playing host of commensal meals in cultic spaces consolidated, legitimized and strengthened elite control over urban religion. In text, the plethora of deities that were recipients of offerings emphasized the status of the deities whose temples, or tables, were the focal points of those offerings. In practice, it was the status of ritual personnel or local elites that was emphasized. In the same vein, the potential for a multitude of divinities worshipped within a given space should not be overlooked. Temple courtyards would have provided ample space, furnishings and appurtenances for various rituals and offerings to multiple deities (Section 17.3.2). Courtyard spaces were therefore more accessible both for the worship of minor deities as well as for ritual participants of lower status. While much of Canaanite society was fundamentally concerned with community and group cohesiveness, rituals both emphasized community while also created hierarchy. The diversity in offerings and cultic personnel indexed ritual hierarchy. During communal meals, not all participants received the same portions and different social actors invested different amounts in terms of expenditures and offerings. There were certainly imbalanced relationships between those who made and those who received offerings (e.g. deities versus humans, elites versus commoners). Recipients of more costly offerings, portions and body parts were likely more important within the cult. Those who could worship and commune with the deity within restricted spaces were more privileged than those who were excluded. These inequalities emphasized and further buttressed already existent social stratification. Both archaeological and textual evidence indicate that a wide variety of quantities and types of offerings were made to a range of deities. Further, different quantities and qualities of portions and animal body parts were indeed apportioned to participants and personnel of different ranks (Section 17.3.3). In an effort to maintain the support of the community as well as their control over cult and cultic spaces, elites had at their disposal a number of mechanisms for bringing the cult into the mundane world. As host, the act of inviting the deity into the temple, and through that, the symbolic intersection of ritual and consumption amongst ritual participants, was effective in inducing religious experience. However, to further induce religious experience into broader landscapes, elites utilized processions through highly visible spaces of urban settlements and even into surrounding hinterlands beyond the city limits. Much of the populace was excluded from temple activities. On occasion, however, temple ritual could be promulgated through urban landscapes, such as indicated during the Emar zukru festival. These processions brought the cult into the natural landscape, echoing earlier traditions in which cult was less hierarchic, more accessible, and focused on communal consumption and transforming natural settings into religious landscapes. These observations therefore seem most well situated within sites which already had hierarchy built into their political and social structure. Ritual hierarchy, and religious ideologies supporting those hierarchies, mostly related to urban and official elite temples. Temples with irregular plans and open-air cultic spaces were organized and structured differently. Iconography was another tool for influencing cultic experiences. Evidence from Hazor demonstrates this, where shared iconography in different cultic spaces and the use of popular motifs within monumental temple contexts were likely the result of a concerted effort to promulgate elite ideology (Section 16.4.4). This ideology was also possibly reflected in the diachronic changes in the gender and forms of MB and LB figurines (Section 17.5.2). As windows into the mythical realms of the gods, iconography induced and helped set the stage for religious experience within cultic settings. Thus, elites and cultic personnel utilized iconography to frame religious experience within temples with the imagery of their liking. Additionally, iconography func-
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tioned as symbols of legitimization, indicating to ritual participants that the motifs and icons recognized and understood from their own local cultural contexts were part of these cultic contexts as well. This familiarity with common imagery from non-cultic spaces further made elite control over temples acceptable in the eyes of the locals. It appears that the use of ritual and the effort to integrate entire urban landscapes and beyond into an integrated religious landscape was particularly important during the LB, when Canaanite society became fragmented. Thus, processions were utilized for the purposes of transforming the entire landscape into religious venues. To this end, processions, rituals and movement of personnel and cultic objects functioned as acts of integrating the community as well as demonstrating the extent of rule of the cult. Professionals such as musicians, dancers (Garfinkel 2003), acrobats and jugglers also contributed to the overall experience (e.g. Maeir 2015). In fact, music was likely an important element in processions. Texts and iconography from around the ancient Near East demonstrate a long history of music and musical instruments (Marcelle Duchesne-Guillemin 1981), including during ritual. In Mesopotamian temples, music was ubiquitous (Dahlia Shehata 2014). Music was attested at Ugarit as well (Caubet 2014: 178–179). Textual evidence indicates musical professionals included singers (šrm in Ugaritic, lúnâru in Akkadian) and cymbalists (mṣlm in Ugaritic, lúmaṣillu in Akkadian) (Heltzer 1999: 436; Vita 1999: 492, n. 230), possibly considered cultic personnel who lived, slept, and received clothes in the palace (Virolleaud 1957: text no. 107; Merlo and Xella 1999: 301; Caubet 2014: 181). In honor of the rpum, musical instruments such as the lyre, flute, tambourines/drums, cymbals and clappers were played together (KTU 1.108) while in a song to Astarte (KTU 1.180), the deity was honored by singing and playing the harp (Pardee 2007). Interestingly, Anat is described in the Ba‘al cycle as playing the lyre as she sings the love of mighty Ba‘al (KTU 1.3 III:4–6, cf. KTU 1.101:17–19; Smith and Pitard 2009: 216). Thus, when ritual actors praised the deities by singing and playing music, they were mimicking acts that the deities themselves did. Iconographically, the Beni Hasan depiction shows an instrument in the rear guard being held by one of the Asiatics in the back of the procession, an asymmetric lyre. This is the first time this type of instrument is depicted in Egypt and demonstrates that already in the MB foreigners in Egypt from the Levant (possibly Canaanites?) already played string instruments (Kamrin 2013: 161). From the LB, one of the Megiddo ivories depicts a processional (Loud 1939: PL. 4). The prince, sitting on the sphynx throne, holds a bowl in his hand, with flowers and a platter presented to him. Amongst the many birds, prisoners, and warriors holding weapons on the scene, there is also a man in a long Syrian garb playing a lyre or harp (Fig. 16.7a). Although the context of this procession was likely palatial, many elements that appear in this depiction likely were similarly present in cultic settings (e.g. offerings, throne/sphynx, music). One of the carved bone inlay fragments recovered from Hazor depicts a musician as well (Ben-Tor 2017c: 542, Fig. 12.7: A3). Material objects recovered from the southern Levant that might relate to music are few, but include cymbals (e.g. Stelae Temple, Tel Mevorakh), rattles (local and Cypriot owl-shaped ones such as from the Hazor Orthostat Temple) and clay drums (from Tell Abu Hawam, cf. Herrera 1990). Masks, too, may have be worn during musical performances (Shai et al. 2015: 129). As institutions, southern Levantine temples can best be assessed on a spectrum. On one end, more complex hierarchy of cultic personnel likely fits urban settings, although the somewhat contradictory textual evidence from Ugarit and Emar precludes clarifying how this might have been reflected in the southern Levant. Was the king the central ritual actor (Ugarit) or simply one of many individuals and institutions who partook in providing and supporting various rituals and festivals (Emar)? The open-air cultic sites, on the other end of the spectrum, likely had more simplified hierarchies, required less personnel and were more inclusive in terms of accessibility and participation. Large construction projects that were part of preconceived urban plans and that required large workforces indicate surplus. Surplus was necessary for gathering a large group of workers for any extended period of time. From the perspective of the builders, they would not have been able to tend to their fields or other household needs. From the perspective of those commissioning the construction projects, surplus would have been required both in terms of expendable time to plan and organize a civic/religious project, as well as in terms of subsistence and excess produce to somehow supply the workers with rations. Surplus of humans as resources for building would have also been required. One last aspect of how temple space was structured deals with liminality and ritual purity. Space appears to have been organized according to notions of ritual purity and increasing levels of sanctity as one sequentially entered more and more restricted spaces. The portals connecting different spheres of sanctity were
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liminal points in which ritual could be performed, offerings made, and through which ritually fit participants could pass. These observations from textual data seem to accord with patterns noted in the archaeological record. It is therefore very possible that Canaanite religious worldviews structured cultic spaces in accordance with understood rules of purity and conceptions of sanctity.
17.7 Conclusions: The Particulars of Canaanite Religious Ideology The previous chapter arrived at a number of important conclusions regarding Canaanite ritual praxis via the use of sociological and anthropological theories. This chapter has additionally made use of textual and iconographic data to bring Chapter 16’s more generalizing observations into the realm of the particular. Ritual did not simply function in the material world. The religious ideology of the Canaanites was intimately connected to the sphere of the gods. While ritual, the acts of feasting and gift giving and the manipulation of iconography all had material and social aspects to them (Section 16.4), Chapter 17 has demonstrated that these activities were structured, organized and dictated by a complex religious ideology. Cultic space and activities cannot be analyzed in isolation. Although modern scholars have a tendency to focus on structures or clearly demarcated precincts, temples were in actuality parts of much more substantial landscapes. This study has demonstrated that various mechanisms were necessary for successfully integrating ritual and ritual spaces into natural and urban and elite-controlled landscapes. Southern Levantine elites had a tendency to emulate. Indeed, elite emulation has been one of the basic arguments for the significant material resemblance between MB and LB Canaan and the northern Levant and Egypt. However, a hitherto unnoticed aspect of Canaanite cult is the act of emulating the realm of the gods. This is most apparent in elite contexts in which elites structured the human practice of religion in their attempts to consolidate power. It is specifically through these types of analogies between the godly acts and the acts of man that this chapter explored Canaanite religious ideology. Temples and open-air cultic spaces were not simply focal points of cultic activity. They functioned as the primary location within which the initial contact with the deity was made. Hosts invited other individuals to participate in ritual and consumption within cultic spaces, emulating scenes known from the divine realm. The large amounts of evidence of feasting in Canaanite cultic settings indicate the centrality of this concept of the host and the hosted. These activities engaged large groups of ritual participants within temple spaces in an effort to integrate the sacred and profane spheres. As such, the important themes of community and group identity were central concerns of the cult. MB cult in particular was structured as such. Over time, many elements of hierarchy emerged. This hierarchy was evident in all aspects of social life. Ritual theory and studies on feasting and commensality reinforced the archaeological observations that there were differentiated and stratified groups of social actors that partook in cultic activities and consumption in cultic spaces. In the LB, textual evidence from Ugarit and Emar provides firmer basis for understanding how religious ideology might have played into these hierarchies. For one, the gods were organized hierarchically. Gods played hosts to other deities within their temples. This was physically reflected in a multivocality noticed in Canaanite cultic spaces. Within the archaeological record, the evidence in temples for social stratification, multiple stations for conducting ritual activity, and large amounts of space for conducting group ritual presents a spatial syntax reflecting a religious ideology of a host (elite, ritual personnel) inviting multiple ritual participants of lower status into the temple and temple courtyard. This hierarchy was most apparent in migdal temples and was accompanied by a multiplicity of ritual spaces, evident in the multiple altars, benches, maṣṣebot installations, drains and favissae found in the Orthostat Temple’s courtyard at Hazor. The textual evidence also indicates that ritual and festivals often included large-scale processions. These were conducted as part of a religious ideology that aimed to reinforce inclusiveness, bring the cult into the surrounding landscape and accordingly, reduce the internal tensions caused by the inequalities precipitated by ritual hierarchy. Chapter 5 demonstrated that while temple’s and their courtyards aimed to integrate, ritual and the limitations of cultic spaces inevitably created inequality and hierarchic relations with regards to social and ritual statuses. Only small portions of a settlement’s population could fit into a temple temenos at any given time. Possibly as a response to this inherent contradiction, processions through urban spaces and beyond were performed in which large groups, even entire populations, partook in certain rituals. These acts therefore indicate that while temples were conduits for inducing religious experience, there was an effort to bring that experience beyond the temenos. In this sense, temples were not intended to be the houses of the deity that confined the religious experience. Rather, they were controlled venues for initiating contact, form-
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ing relations and inducing religious experience. However, the goal of this may very well have been to transform the surrounding landscapes into part of the greater religious landscape of the cult. Thus, Part IV set out to achieve aim (3), why and how ritual was performed in Canaanite cultic spaces. Eight questions related to the aim were asked and in order to address the aim most affectively, Canaanite ritual praxis and ideology were explored. Diversity and diachronic change in architecture, activities and offerings were analyzed in terms of temporal, geographic, social, political and economic variation. All of these factors could, and apparently did, influence the form of cult that was practiced within any given space. Through the use of theory in ritual studies, feasting, commensality and sacrifice, it was demonstrated that ritual was multifaceted, functioning both as a tool for creating and maintaining hierarchy while also capable of forging communal group adhesiveness. Essentially, Canaanite cult was meaningful to the populace because it was relevant; it reflected and was organized according to the internal social and political structures of society. While cultic activity in non-elite spaces was focused on communal ritual and forging group identity, elite-controlled settings created hierarchy which had to be justified and rectified. Specifically within elite settings, ritual inequality was established and maintained in a number of ways. Elites and controllers of cultic spaces had recourse to divine motifs such as playing host, to control access to and the rules of feasts and rituals, to conduct processions throughout different types of spaces, and to have control over iconographic traditions and prestige objects. As diverse as this may have been, all of this was part of one underlying theme within Canaanite religious ideology: the importance of integrating the sacred landscape into the natural and urban landscapes.
Part V Conclusions
Chapter 18 Conclusions The successful implementation of this study’s three-tiered approach has led to many new insights into Bronze Age religion as practiced in the southern Levant.
18.1 Conclusions Arrived at in this Book Beginning with the most empirical of data, the spaces within which Canaanite ritual was performed were analyzed. In contrast to previous studies on Canaanite temple architecture, the approach taken in Part II of this book additionally stressed the phenomenology of religious space and place in order to more clearly understand the religious experiences of ritual participants. As such, the locations, monumentality, and surrounding landscapes of cultic spaces were taken into account as important factors that created impressions upon ritual participants. This study also considered aspects of approach, access, liminality, and importantly, the use of courtyard spaces within the temple temenos. An important finding was that very often, the temple courtyard was not actually significantly more spacious than the temple interior. However, in all likelihood, the interior of the temple was off limits to most ritual actors while the courtyard could be much more densely packed. Using population density coefficients to estimate how many individuals could have fit into a temple courtyard at any given time, it was argued that while temple courtyards were relatively spacious, courtyard sizes could not accommodate entire settlement populations. Only a small percentage of the overall local populace could comfortably fit into the temple temenos at any given time. Thus, while traditionally temples have been interpreted as exclusive spaces while the courtyards were the more inclusive spaces, the findings in this study suggest that even as temple architecture and courtyard spaces were constructed in order to frame more inclusive, accessible and communaloriented activities within the open-air courtyards, the very act was an exclusive act that inevitably created hierarchy – some were allowed in, while others were not. In terms of a standardized temple form, migdal temples were the most standard of forms, generally constructed with a slight long-room plan. A number of these appeared in elevated or specially demarcated parts of the tell (Hazor, Megiddo, Pella, Shechem, Tel Haror) and their thick walls and towers at the entrance gave them an impressive, awe-inspiring appearance highly visible from a distance away. It is possible the walls and towers were in part aimed at mirroring the city’s fortification, presenting a statement about the deity’s connection to the greater urban landscape as well as the rulers’ efforts to make clear their involvement in both defensive and religious architecture. However, the introduction of this Syrian architectural form into the southern Levantine landscape might not have been solely an elite-involved import. The earliest of these temples in the MB, a small temple in antis at Tell el-Hayyat, indicates that a geographically-broad continuum between the northern and southern Levant existed along the north-south communication route in the Jordan Valley region. Thus, it is possible that the evidence from Tell el-Hayyat suggests a local parallel process of the use and development of this architecture form, a form which for all intents and purposes was rooted in earlier temples in antis from the Early Bronze, also attested in the southern Levant. Temples also appeared in other less-standardized forms such as temples with irregular layouts and open-air spaces disconnected from built-up shrines. The diversity in form and location of southern Levantine temples reflects a range of religious, geographic, political and economic concerns. Part III of the book investigated the types of activities that were conducted within cultic spaces. The aim of the chapter was to understand how cultic spaces were used, what were the activities – ritual and mundane alike – performed within those spaces, and how the behavioral patterns noted in temples resemble or differ from those in other types of spaces, such as domestic or palatial structures. In order to do so, I created a rubric whereby different activity types and uses of space within cultic spaces could be identified based on a rigorous study of the spatial distribution and a contextual analysis of material finds. The most evident activity type consistently present in temples was consumption. The emphasis in most Canaanite temples on consumption indicates the fundamental centrality of commensality related to cultic activities across the southern Levant. Other activities regularly attested in Canaanite temples were related to the presentation of votive offerings. Indeed, these activities have received the most attention in previous studies on Canaanite religion. There was a range of prestige objects and status symbols found in temple contexts. The dedication of these objects in
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temples indicates either something about the status of the donors or something about the nature of the recipient deities. Temples also served as important spaces for forging social and cultic relations. Conspicuous consumption and competitive dedication of luxury objects reflected different social actors with different statuses and capabilities of presenting votive offerings. The ability to dedicate more expensive objects signifies a certain status and social mobility which served to differentiate those individuals with the means to offer valuables from those without the means to do so. Of course, ritual related to special activities were also performed within temples. These have proven to be the most difficult to identify due to the ambiguity in understanding the use of certain vessel types often associated with cultic activity. However, certain vessels such as miniature vessels, seven-cupped bowls, fenestrated stands, kernoi and scoops consistently turn up in cultic spaces or other spaces associated with ritual, suggesting their use for special activities. Importantly, Part III determined that the noted variability identified in the types of activities and sets of rituals performed in different temples is indicative of the various responses implemented to address a range of particularistic concerns. The implications of these findings were explored in Part IV on praxis and ideology.
18.2 New Insights into Canaanite Religion This book has arrived at five new observations regarding Canaanite cult as practiced in Canaanite temples. First, temple architecture and the activities conducted within temples were neither static temporally nor interregionally. Cultic spaces in the southern Levant were responses to different particular circumstances and situations. The settings, locations and the construction types of temples related to, affected, and were affected by the rituals and activities that were conducted in those spaces. They were additionally intertwined with power relations and dynamics of hierarchic social structures. Further, different social, geographic, political, economic, settlement-type and even ecological contexts elicited different types of rituals. There was also great diversity in terms of what took place inside and outside of southern Levantine temples. As such, it is important to understand Canaanite ritual, architecture form and temple location as dynamic processes which were constantly being negotiated and renegotiated, experiencing extensive traditionalism and conservatism in certain aspects while also undergoing diachronic change as responses to changing geopolitical, socioeconomic and ecological circumstances. As presented at the beginning of this study, Canaanite religion was remarkably responsive and adaptive and was reflective of the diversity of the various micro-regions in the southern Levant. The heterogeneity seen in Canaanite religion was a result of a multitude of universalistic and particularistic factors, including shifting geopolitical circumstances and various spheres of foreign interactions and influences, the agency of local rulers in urban settings, kinship-based identities and a range of socioeconomic statuses. As variation and change in temple architecture and activities have been thoroughly documented, it is also clear that while there was diversity and heterogeneity, there were also elements of uniformity and resiliency. In terms of architecture, this process is most evident in the rise of migdal temples. With the floruit of urbanization in the southern Levant in the latter part of the MB, the shift of concerns on the local and regional levels from subsistence-based decision-making for purposes of survival to more diverse matters characteristic of a more stratified, complex and internationally integrated urban society, left its mark on religious architecture. It was precisely during this period when migdal temples became integrated into elite-controlled urban landscapes, functioning as instrumental tools in promoting elite-dictated ideology, concerns and conceptions of group identity. This process was also reflected in iconography, particularly in the use of metal figurines. There appears to have been a theological shift at some point transitioning into the LB, when metal figurines were predominantly male while female figurines appeared either in sheet metal or clay plaque figurine forms. This seems to have reflected a heightened emphasis on the central role of male deities and patriarchy promoted by urban elites, while females and female deities apparently received a demoted and secondary status. Building off of this, a second insight in this study is that ritual in the southern Levant was highly responsive and adaptive. The diachronic changes noted throughout the MB and LB in temple architecture, temple locations, ritual activities as well as in iconography and material culture unquestionably reflect changing cultural, geopolitical and socioeconomic phenomena. MB practices from the onset emphasized large quantities of ceramic votive offerings of miniature vessels, a practice specifically related to cultic settings. These were most frequently found with cultic stands – a ritual object still not clearly understood. During the LB, ritual became more integrated into palatial and household settings as well. During the MB, maṣṣebot appear-
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ing grouped together or individually were quite common, particularly in association with temple courtyards and in open-air spaces (Gezer). In the LB when there was an apparent shift away from performing cultic activities in open-air sites, the use of maṣṣebot became more limited, possibly having different functions. As the southern Levant became fragmented politically and economically, particularly following the conquest of Thutmose III, some of the migdal temples that were already established in the MB continued. However, no new temples of that form were constructed. Rather, irregular temples without standardized plans and often located in peripheral settings were established. This phenomenon relates to the disconnect between elite and non-elite sectors of LB society in the southern Levant. The large urban temples which had a strong grip over a large portion of the southern Levantine landscape during the MB appear to have become less effective or relevant to the diverse populace of the LB. In place, these new temples were erected in non-urban or nonelite controlled locations. Foreign influences, colonialist activities, international trade and connectivity, ethnic diversity, individual agency and environmental and ecological factors were all at play in this process. Again, ritual was very responsive. A third insight is that in contrast to Mesopotamian, Hittite and Egyptian temples, temples in the southern Levant remarkably do not reflect the concept of the house of the god. Neither the layout of Canaanite temples nor the activities performed within the temples reflect the layouts or activities of southern Levantine domestic spaces. The courtyard plans and presence of large amounts of storage and cooking vessels and installations which typify MB and LB households are lacking in most southern Levantine temples. Thus, the physical attributes of these temples differed significantly from those of contemporary ANE cultic spaces as well as from contemporaneous local domestic spaces. A further distinction can be made between Levantine temples in general and temples from around the ANE. Canaanite temples were not large multi-chambered complexes in which large amounts of administrative tasks were performed, nor did they have ancillary rooms for storage and preparation or courtyards integrated into inner parts of the temple infrastructure. Rather, they were quite simple, never more than a few rooms, often symmetrical, and most commonly the structure was facing, or surrounded by, a courtyard. Thus, the courtyard space in Canaanite temples was the most accessible to the largest groups of people, whereas the interior space was more limited in space and restricted access. As such, not only was the orientation, organization and space use of Canaanite temples different from other ANE examples, the entire concept of religious experience and the rules of ritual participation differed as well. This seems to have been related to local Canaanite religious ideologies which conceived of cultic space and communicating with deities in a uniquely different manner than in the rest of the ANE. A fourth insight relates to this last point. Rather than perceiving Canaanite cultic spaces as the houses and residences of deities, it seems these spaces functioned as venues for hosting feasts and commensal meals based around sacrifice and other ritual activities. These were therefore spaces within which social cohesion and group unity were forged. Depending on who controlled the temples, these spaces could also function as tools for creating and maintaining social and ritual hierarchy and inequality. Yet, venues for hosting feasts tend to house space for ancillary activities such as storage and food preparation. In the southern Levant, on the other hand, the general trend of temples was to have very little evidence of these important activities. If temples served as venues with a primary purpose of communal consumption, the large amounts of consumption as indicated by bowls and other serving vessels would have required food and drink to have been stored, processed and prepared elsewhere. In urban settings, it is possible that the responsibility to do such tasks did not lie within the temple itself but rather within the community at large or other individuals or institutions. A different situation was encountered by smaller, rural temples, such as Tell el-Hayyat and Nahariya, for example in the MB, and at Tel Nami in the LB. These sites, which lacked the infrastructure and surrounding social networks to provide aid in storage and preparation, required all activities to be conducted on site. Thus, Nahariya and Tel Nami had higher than average storage and cooking vessels, and in general, large quantities. Interestingly, Tell el-Hayyat reflects trends most closely attested in households, providing further evidence for the diversity of activities that were necessary to be conducted in that rural temple. Thus, at certain sites, the emphasis was placed on forging group identity in somewhat uncoercive forms and settings. At the onset of the MB in particular, this process seemed more apparent and organic, while later in the MB and into the LB, more evidence seems to indicate that community-oriented rituals and events were forced top-down by elites. For example, the open-air extramural cultic site of Nahariya exhibits large amounts of consumption, storage and food preparation, while equally displaying large amounts of votive offerings in ceramic and other forms. There was a clear emphasis on community, on communal consumption and on
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performing ritual in a natural setting. This form of venue was one that lacked a temenos and was without clearly defined boundaries and barriers. Just as the cultic space was part of the natural landscape, community and shared group identity were emphasized and integrated into the cult. In other instances, commensality and the associated understood cultural cues were utilized in order to create, implement and sustain social, political and religious hierarchy. This is most apparent in urban settings and in particular in elite-controlled temples which had restricted access and limited spaces. Those who controlled the spaces, dictated the rules of ritual and hosted commensal meals were granted the ability to establish and legitimize their authority and to maintain control and hierarchic social relations across the urban, and cultic, landscape. In the latter case in particular, two fundamental social mechanisms were constantly at play within cultic contexts: conspicuous consumption (feasting/drinking) and gift giving (votive offerings, prestige objects, status symbols). These social activities took on cultic roles, however, as they were conducted within spaces demarcated as cultic and therefore they were intertwined with various notions of encountering, beseeching and gaining favor with the deities. A fifth observation relates what Canaanites did to why. In Part IV, the focus on praxis and ideology connected Canaanite actions to thought processes. With regards to praxis, I argued that social behaviors and organization were controlled and maintained through ritual, feasting, commensality, the competitive and public presentation of offerings, and through the use of iconography. However, these actions were also informed by Canaanite religious ideology. Temples in the southern Levant functioned as conduits for initiating contact with the divine. Rather than the divine presence of deities being contained within temples, there was an effort to entice the deities out of temples in order to transform the entire landscape into a religious and sacred landscape. Sacrifice and offerings therefore functioned in two manners. One was as an act of gift giving, a donation to the deities. However, the very same act was an effort not only to appease or maintain a localized relationship with the sacred but also to tempt the deities into the mundane realm of humans, to spread throughout the natural and urban landscapes and transform them into sacred landscapes. In open-air and generally less hierarchic settings, this effort was more natural. However, in urban settings, cult and ritual were often more hierarchically oriented. Elites and the hosts of feasts in cultic spaces mimicked the notions of divine feasts and invitations. Temples were organized and oriented to facilitate processions – public ritual that moved through different spaces throughout settlements. Texts from Ugarit, Emar, Hatti and Mari demonstrate that during processions cult statues of deities were transported through the urban landscape. In this way, religious experience was commuted beyond the immediate space and place of the temple. This use of processions moving through public spaces expanded the sacred landscape into the profane and domestic spheres of the rest of the community. Temples and activities within them were also organized in such a way as to appropriately accommodate polytheistic notions of multivocality, that is, these were spaces used for the worship of different deities. This multivocality was experienced even when a temple was dedicated to one specific deity, since deities played hosts to other minor gods during festivals. Multivocality was also evident in the hierarchic relations that consumption created amongst social and ritual actors: not all ritual participants were apportioned equally, whether of food, beverage or other materials. Thus, different statuses and ranks were indicated and sustained through the activities that were performed within cultic spaces, something well attested to in textual traditions. Additionally, temples, courtyards, and open-air spaces were constructed as spaces with concern for liminality and liminal points of access. It is also clear that liminality was viewed as significant enough to evoke ritual. Thresholds, entrances and doorways were spaces in which ritual was frequently conducted. Textual evidence has demonstrated that ritual cleansing and purification took place at liminal points and that being in a state of ritual purity was a requirement to cross through liminal zones. This seems to be reflected in the archaeological record as well, as evidence of offerings, basins and scoops, for example, has been yielded in a number of entrances, thresholds and entrance halls. It was also clear that in urban settings, in particular, iconography was used by elites to buttress their status within society. The use and control of iconography by Hazor elites was striking. In the LB, in particular, figurines of males, specifically of standing deities in a striking pose, might reflect the emphasized militaristic atmosphere of the LB when local rulers experienced increased political stress. The new political concerns of the LB impacted religious iconography, shifting to a primary focus on the power, and enthroned kingship, of the male deity. Thus, just as ritual and cultic spaces were reflections of religious ideologies, so too was
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iconography. In elite contexts, as urban rulers sought to legitimize their own authority, the portrayal of divine imagery in the most expensive forms became limited, and controlled, by elite concerns and ideology.
18.3 Concluding Remarks: Why all of this Matters There has been a long history of scholarship on Canaanite religion. For much of that time, the analytical process largely ignored the archaeological record. The primary goal of this research was to integrate all of the available archaeological data on Canaanite temples in order to synthesize a more holistic understanding of Canaanite religion as practiced in public cultic spaces. Over the past few decades, a number of studies have been conducted on specific cultic sites in the southern Levant, yet these studies rarely expanded the scope to discussing Canaanite religion at large. When they did, the analysis was generally conducted from the perspective of the case study at hand, not from the extensive and expanding database of archaeological finds from Canaanite cultic spaces. In this book, I have first and foremost emphasized the importance of having a sound methodological approach to the topic of Canaanite religion, in general, and to the analysis of the archaeology of Canaanite religion, in particular. For the first time, this study has made significant strides in getting closer to understanding what Canaanites did within cultic contexts. This, after all, is what we want to know. What did Canaanites actually do during the most sacred of moments and in their holiest of spaces when they were conducting ritual and worshipping their deities? As I have stressed time and again, the process of understanding Canaanite cult and cultic behaviors must be an inductive endeavor. As archaeologists, we owe a debt of gratitude to specialists who deal with texts in the ANE. Texts are important. They offer insights into the human mind and beliefs that other sources lack the ability to do. However, the unfortunate fact is that there is a lack of local textual evidence that sheds any degree of light on southern Levantine religion. The archaeological record must therefore be the primary means of accessing Canaanite cult. Developing the three-tiered approach taken in this book was a process which took years to devise. Over time, it became apparent that architecture and behavioral patterns must be analyzed not simply in isolation, but additionally through the lens of anthropological and sociological theory. It also became apparent that with the additional aid of contemporary texts, more specific and precise assessments of Canaanite religious ideology could be made. However, these last two steps could only happen after analyzing all of the available archaeological data. Thus, this study has shown that overall, Canaanite religious ideologies reflect strong concerns for community. With foundational and fundamental roots lying in kinship-based social and political structures, cultic activity in the southern Levant consistently revolved around consumption, offerings and activities that emphasized inclusiveness and coming together. This seems to have been a universal phenomenon in the ANE. However, the house of the deity in the southern Levant took on a different form than in the rest of the ANE in terms of architecture, activity types, and overall function. This different form reflects the particularistic religious concerns within the southern Levant. This insight opens up new potential directions for further research. This study did not focus on spaces beyond the temenos. However, if temples were not intended to contain the deity’s presence, how was cult received beyond the temenos? How can this, or a similar, methodology be implemented to analyze and make sense of cultic activities in domestic spaces and throughout the greater landscape? As has been shown, there was a constant dialectic in Canaanite cult oscillating between maintaining a sense of community, on the one hand, and creating and maintaining hierarchy, on the other hand. Canaanite cultic architecture reflects this dialectic, as do the activities performed within those spaces. Canaanite religious praxis and ideology therefore set different ritual mechanisms into place in order to maintain a balance, order and stability within Canaanite cult and throughout Canaanite society at large. In many ways, the significance of this study is not in the five original observations that I have suggested were hitherto unnoticed by previous scholars. That number is somewhat irrelevant. The importance and hopeful contribution of this study lies more so in the following: existentially, how do we approach our subject matter? As scholars, we have a responsibility to leave our subjectivities aside in order to engage the data in an unbiased, objective manner. My hope in this study is that not only have I done so, but I have provided a useful template for how research on the archaeology of ancient religions should be conducted. Further, the potential to have a methodology for identifying cult while in the field excavating could contribute immensely to how sites with potential cultic importance are excavated. At the end of the day, it is not the spaces or objects that we are after, nor is it simply the ideas and mythologies. Rather, it is the people who used those
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spaces and objects and who had those ideas and believed in those mythologies that are of interest. Archaeology is the best tool at our disposal for accessing those ancient humans.
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Tables
266
Tables
Table I: Calculations of maximum number of individuals in temple courtyards and temple interiors
Site/Stratum Hazor Area H Stratum 2 Hazor Area H Stratum 1B Hazor Area A Hazor Area C Stratum 1B Megiddo Stratum X Tel Haror Stratum V Tell el-Dab'a
Temple Courtyard
Temple Interior
Courtyard and Temple Interior
Size (m2) 154
Total # of Individuals 154–462
Size (m2) 163
Total # of Individuals 163–489
Max # of Individuals 951
Settlement Population 18,500
Percent of Total Population 5.1%
112
112–336
182
182–546
882
18,500
4.7%
900
900–2,700
314
314–942
3,642
18,500
19.6%
210
210–630
26
26–84
714
18,500
3.9%
190
190–570
110
110–330
900
2,750
32.7%
350
350–1050
41
41–123
1173
3,750
31.3%
540
540–1620
290
290–870
2490
62,500
4.0%
Ugarit, Temple of Ba'al Nahariya
156
156–468
152
152–456
924
5,000
18.5%
-
-
-
-
-
0
-
Byblos
265
265–795
130
130–390
1,185
2,500
47%
Gezer
-
-
-
-
-
3,750
-
Tables
Table II: Activity type rubric developed by the author used in Part III for identifying activities within cultic spaces Seven Categories of Activity Types performed within cultic spaces
1. Consumption a. Food or drink (not distinguishable unless provided with additional evidence such as textual, residue analysis, or clear examples of foods nearby or in vessels) i. Vessels directly related to consuming 1. Bowls 2. Goblets 3. Chalices (?) ii. Ancillary vessels associated with consuming for serving 1. Jugs (for solids or liquids) 2. Juglets (for liquids, depending on size) 3. Kraters (also could be for storage or food preparation) 4. Platters (for serving?) iii. Other indications of consumption 1. Animal bones 2. Food remains such as grains, seeds, etc 3. Ash 2. Preparation of food/drink a. Food i. Vessels indicative of food preparation 1. Cooking pots 2. Baking trays 3. Kraters 4. Basalt vessels a. Bowls b. Mortars c. Pestles ii. Installations indicative of food preparation 1. TaNNUR/oven 2. Hearth 3. Silo 3. Storage a. Solids and Liquids i. Vessels indicative of storage 1. Storage Jars 2. Pithoi 3. Kraters ii. Installations indicative of storage 1. Silos 2. Niches in walls 3. Benches 4. Shelves (continues on next page)
267
268
Tables 4. Production a. Pottery i. Objects associated with pottery production 1. Potter’s wheel 2. Wasters ii. Installations associated with pottery production 1. Kiln b. Textile i. Objects indicative of textile production 1. Loom weights 2. Spindle whorls 3. Needles 4. Awls c. Metal i. Objects indicative of metal production 1. Crucibles 2. Moulds 3. Tweezers/Chisels 4. Ash 5. Slag 6. Metal ingots ii. Installations associated with metal production 1. Furnaces 5. Personal Adornment a. Cosmetics i. Items indicating cosmetics 1. Spoons 2. Decorative/ivory boxes 3. Mirror 4. Small vessels that likely carried kohl/perfumes a. Metal or faience juglets or flasks b. Pilgrim flasks 5. Pyxides b. Jewelry i. Objects 1. Beads 2. Pendants 3. Earrings 4. Rings 5. Toggle pins 6. Prestige/Status a. Objects indicating prestige or heightened status i. Imported vessels ii. Decorated pottery bearing iconographic representations iii. Ivory objects, particularly hoards in great volume iv. Bone objects or inlays v. Scarabs vi. Cylinder Seals vii. Weapons b. Objects indicating leisure i. Game boards/pieces
(continues on next page)
Tables 7. Ritual/Cultic/Votive Offering/Other a. Ritual i. Vessels used for cultic purposes 1. Cup-and-saucer 2. Cult stands 3. Miniature vessels 4. Kernoi ii. Objects associated with cult 1. Metal figurines 2. Terracotta figurines 3. Stone statuary 4. Metal plaques bearing iconographic depictions 5. Offering tables 6. Maṣṣebot 7. Cymbals 8. Game Boards/pieces (?) 9. Liver models 10. Astragali (worked kuncklebones) b. Votive Offering i. Objects associated with votive offerings 1. Any cultic object 2. Any mundane ceramic object potentially 3. Any mundane personal item ii. Placement of objects 1. On an altar 2. On a bench 3. On a raised platform 4. In a niche 5. Placed inside another vessel 6. Buried in a pit or favissa
269
270
Tables
Table III: Hazor Area H, overall distribution of objects, by amounts and percentages Vessel type/Site Bowls Goblets Chalices Kraters Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs Juglets/flasks Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other Total Other small finds
Vessel type/Site Bowls Goblets Chalices Kraters Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs Juglets/flasks Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other small finds
Hazor Area H (3) 18
8 8 7 1 2 2
Hazor Area H (2) 109 7 12 23 13 1 4 9 26 4
1
Hazor Area H (1B) 60 16 6 7 8 4 2 11 7 8 8 1
Hazor Area H (1A) 40 4 3 4 5 1 8 4 6
3
6 53 11
4 212 46
5 146 58
1 76 139
Hazor Area H (3) 34.0%
Hazor Area H (2) 51.4%
Hazor Area H (1B) 41.1% 11.0% 4.1% 4.8% 5.5% 2.7% 1.4% 7.5% 4.8% 5.5% 5.5% 0.7%
Hazor Area H (1A) 52.6% 5.3% 3.9% 5.3% 6.6%
15.1% 15.1% 13.2% 1.9% 3.8% 3.8%
3.3% 5.7% 10.8% 6.1% 0.5% 1.9% 4.2% 12.3% 1.9%
1.3% 10.5% 5.3% 7.3%
2.1% 13.2%
1.9%
3.4%
1.3%
Tables
271
Table IV: Hazor Area H vessel and object distribution, Stratum 3 TEMPLE INTERIOR
WITHIN TEMPLE TEMENOS
Stratum 3
Stratum 3
South (Courtyard?)
Vessel type/Locus Bowls
L2148
Vessel type/Locus Bowls
Cella
Temple Interior 3
Total
%
3
60%
Goblets
Goblets
Chalices
Chalices
Kraters
Kraters
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi
Jugs
Jugs
Juglets/flasks
Juglets/flask s Lamps
Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands
Kernoi/zoomo rphic vessels Other
1
Total
1
Other small finds
6
L2165
L2166
Total
%
4
5
29%
2
12%
2
12%
1
2
12%
1
1
6%
2
2
12%
3
18%
1
1
1 1
1
Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-AndSaucer Scoops
Cup-AndSaucer Scoops
L2151
Kernoi/zoom orphic vessels Other
1
1
1
20%
1
20%
2
1
4
5
Total
3
8
2
6
Other small finds
1
1
1
4
17 3
272
Tables
Table V: Hazor Area H vessel and object distribution, Stratum 2 TEMPLE INTERIOR Stratum 2 Vessel type/Locus
Cella
Temple Interior
Total
%
Bowls
41
17
58
63.7%
3
3.3%
Goblets Chalices
3
Kraters
2
2
4
4.4%
Cooking pots/trays
2
6
8
8.8%
Jars/pithoi
4
4
4.4%
Jugs Juglets/flasks
1
1
2
2.2%
Lamps
2
3
5
5.5%
Miniature Vessels
4
2
6
6.6%
1
1.1% 100%
Cultic Stands Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
1
Total
60
31
91
Other small finds
15
7
22
WITHIN TEMPLE TEMENOS Stratum 2
Temple Courtyard
Vessel type
L2138
L2149
Bowls
15
7
Kiln
Sherd Pile
Channel
Propylaeum
L2146
L2160
2178
2144
L2150
2172
2
5
5
1
2169
Total
%
35
40.7%
2
2.3%
6
7.0%
7
8.1%
8
9.3%
1
1.2%
2
2.3%
1
1.2%
18
20.9%
4
4.7%
Goblets Chalices
2
Kraters
3
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi
2
1
1
2
1
2
1
Jugs
1
4
3
1
Juglets/flasks
1
Lamps
1
1
Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands
1
1
14
2 1
3
Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
1
1
Total
21
14
6
Other small finds
6
2
1
19
17 7
3
3
0 2
3
2
2.3%
86
100.0%
18
Tables
273
Table VI: Hazor Area H vessel and object distribution, Stratum 1B TEMPLE INTERIOR Stratum 1B Vessel type/Locus
Cella
Bowls
7
Goblets
1
Niche
Favissa
Temple Interior
Total
%
7
14
56%
3
12%
1
4%
1
4%
1
1
4%
1
1
4%
3
3
12%
1
1
4%
100%
2
Chalices
1
Kraters
1
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs Juglets/flasks Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other Total
13
0
2
10
25
Other small finds
20
1
1
1
23
WITHIN TEMPLE TEMENOS Stratum 1B Vessel type/Locus
Lion Orthostat Favissa L2140
Temple Temenos Courtyard L2126
Bowls
1
2
L2119
L2180
Total
%
3
27.3%
1
2
18.2%
1
1
9.1%
1 (bilbil)
1
9.1%
2
18.2%
1
9.1%
1
1
9.1%
1
11
100%
Goblets Chalices Kraters
1
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs Juglets/flasks Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands
2
Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
1
Total
1
5
4
Other small finds
5
4
10
BEYOND THE TEMENOS
19
274 Stratum 1B
Tables Favissa
Favissa
Vessel type/Locus
South of Temenos L2135
L2156
L2182
Total
%
Bowls
7
24
5
36
37.5%
Goblets
1
11
1
13
13.5%
Chalices
1
4
5
5.2%
Kraters
L2174
L2145
2
2
2.1%
Cooking pots/trays
2
1
3
3.1%
Jars/pithoi
1
3
4
4.2%
1
1
1.0%
Jugs Juglets/flasks
2 (1 bilbil)
2 (1 white shaved)
7
7.3%
Lamps
2
2
3
7
7.3%
Miniature Vessels
1
3
4
8
8.3%
3
3.1%
1
1.0%
2
2
2.1%
4
4
4.2% 100%
Cultic Stands
1 (bilbil)
1
1 (bilbil)
3
Cup-And-Saucer
1
Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other Total
17
62
Other small finds
3
8
2
14
1
96
2
1
14
Tables
275
Table VII: Hazor Area H vessel and object distribution, Stratum 1A TEMPLE INTERIOR Stratum 1A Vessel type/Locus
Cella
Bowls
29
Goblets
4
Chalices
2
Kraters
3
Cooking pots/trays
Niche
Temple Interior
Total
%
2
31
56.4%
4
7.3%
3
5.5%
3
5.5%
3
3
5.5%
Jugs
1
1
1.8%
Juglets/flasks
6
6
10.9%
Lamps
3
3
5.5%
1
1
1.8%
100%
1
Jars/pithoi
Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other Total
52
0
3
55
Other small finds
111
6
15
132
WITHIN TEMPLE TEMENOS Stratum 1A
Courtyard South of Temple
Vessel type/Locus
L2119
%
Bowls
3
37.5%
Kraters
1
12.5%
Cooking pots/trays
2
25.0%
2
25.0%
Total
8
100%
Other small finds
3
Goblets Chalices
Jars/pithoi Jugs Juglets/flasks Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
276
Tables
Table VIII: Hazor Area C Stelae Temple vessel and object distribution, Strata 1B and 1A Stratum 1B Vessel type/Locus
Stratum 1A L6136
Total
%
Vessel type/Locus
Bowls
5
Goblets
5
35.7%
Bowls
3
3
21.4%
Goblets
Chalices
1
1
7.1%
Chalices
Kraters
1
1
7.1%
Kraters
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi
1
1
7.1%
Jugs
2
2
14.3%
1
1
7.1%
Juglets/flasks Lamps
L6136
L6135
Total
15
2
17
54.8%
4
4
12.9%
1
1
3.2%
Cooking pots/trays
2
2
6.5%
Jars/pithoi
1
1
3.2%
Jugs
2
2
6.5%
Juglets/flasks
1
1
2
6.5%
Lamps
1
1
2
6.5%
27
4
31
1
4
5
Miniature Vessels
Miniature Vessels
Cultic Stands
Cultic Stands
Cup-And-Saucer
Cup-And-Saucer
Scoops
Scoops
Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
Total Other small finds
14
14
3
3
Total Other small finds
%
Tables
277
Table IX: Lachish Fosse Temple total inventories by stratum Overall Fosse Temple Assemblages Temple I
Temple II
Temple III
Vessel type
Totals
%
Totals
%
Totals
%
Bowls
422
74.8%
615
79.6%
769
82.3%
Goblets
4
0.7%
9
1.2%
9
1.0%
10
1.3%
6
0.6%
Kraters
12
2.1%
15
1.9%
12
1.3%
Cooking pots/trays
18
3.2%
17
2.2%
28
3.0%
Jars/pithoi
10
1.8%
3
0.4%
3
0.3%
Jugs
10
1.8%
11
1.4%
9
1.0%
Juglets/flasks
75
13.3%
32
4.1%
11
1.2%
Lamps
9
1.6%
54
7.0%
43
4.6%
Miniature Vessels
0
Cultic Stands
3
Chalices
0 0.5%
0
1
0.1%
2
0.2%
Cup-and-saucer
4
0.5%
16
1.7%
Scoops
0
22
2.4%
4
0.4%
Kernoi Other Finds
3
0.5%
2
0.3%
Total
564
773
934
Other small finds
33
114
229
278
Tables
Table X: Lachish Fosse Temple inventories from temple interiors, all three strata Temple I Temple Interior Vessel type/Locus
Room D
Room D Altar
Total
%
Bowls
8
11
19
43.2%
1
1
2.3%
2
2
4.5%
1
1
2.3%
2
4.5%
Goblets Chalices Kraters Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi
2
Jugs
1
2
3
6.8%
Juglets/flasks
2
11
13
29.5%
2
2
4.5%
1
2.3%
44
56.8%
Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands
1
Cup-and-saucer Scoops Kernoi Other finds Total
14
30
Other small finds
12
Temple II Temple Interior Vessel type/Locus
Room D
Room F
Total
%
Bowls
24
14
38
63.3%
Goblets
1
1
1.7%
1
1.7%
2
3.3%
1
1
1.7%
Chalices Kraters
1 2
Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs
2
1
3
5.0%
Juglets/flasks
3
2
5
8.3%
Lamps
6
1
7
11.7%
2
2
3.3%
100.0%
Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands Cup-and-saucer Scoops Kernoi Other Finds Total
38
22
60
Other small finds
39
4
43
Tables
279
Temple III Temple Interior Vessel type/Locus
Room A
Room D
Room E
Room F
Total
Min %
Max %
Bowls
14
31
18
12
75
56.8%
49.0%
Goblets
4
1
1
6
4.5%
3.9%
Chalices
1
1
3
2.3%
2.0%
Kraters Cooking pots/trays
1
3
1
2
6
4.5%
3.9%
1
4
2
9
6.8%
5.9%
1
1
2
1.5%
1.3%
2
3
1
6
4.5%
3.9%
1
0.8%
0.7%
3
4
8
6.1%
5.2%
1
0.8%
0.7%
2
Jars/pithoi Jugs
Room D 181
Juglets/flasks Lamps
1 1
Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands
1
Cup-and-saucer
8 - 11..
Scoops
>1
>1
8 - 11..
6.1%
7.2%
>1
3 - 21,
2.3%
13.7%
1
4
3.0%
2.6%
100.0%
100.0%
Kernoi Other Finds
1
2
Total
27
>57–60
1
>28
>19
>132–135
Other small finds
8
9
42
60
2
121
280
Tables
Table XI: Temple inventories from Tel Mevorakh, Strata XI and X Overall Site Assemblages Stratum XI
Stratum X
Vessel type
Totals
%
Vessel type/Site
Totals
%
Bowls
48
64.0%
Bowls
28
49.1%
(Imported)
(25)
(Imported)
(11)
Goblets
4
5.3%
Goblets
3
5.3%
Chalices
5
6.7%
Chalices
5
8.8%
Kraters
3
5.3%
Kraters Cooking pots/trays
3
4.0%
Cooking pots/trays
2
3.5%
Jars/pithoi
2
2.7%
Jars/pithoi
3
5.3%
Jugs
2
2.7%
Jugs
6
10.5%
Juglets/flasks
10
13.3%
Juglets/flasks
3
5.3%
Lamps
1
1.3%
Lamps
3
5.3%
Miniature Vessels
Miniature Vessels
1
1.8%
Other Cultic Vessels
Other Cultic Vessels
Other
Other
Total
75
Total
57
Other small finds
19
Other small finds
32
Tables
281
Table XII: Distribution of vessels and objects, Tel Mevorakh, Stratum XI Temple Interior
Raised Platforms Area to the West
Stairs
Vessel type/Locus
L251
L204
L201
L240
L252
Total
%
Bowls
10
8
1
4
3
26
68.4%
(Imported)
2
5
1
1
2
11
Goblets
1
1
2
5.3%
2
5.3%
1
2.6%
7
18.4%
Chalices Kraters Cooking pots/trays
2
Jars/pithoi
1
Jugs Juglets/flasks
6
1
15
4
10
1
Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Vessels Other Total
11
Other small finds
4
4
Rest of Interior Vessel type/Locus
L289
L286
L229
L284
L 200B
L203
Total
%
Bowls
12
2
2
2
1
2
21
61.8%
(Imported)
9
2
1
2
14
Goblets
1
Chalices
1
2
5.9%
4
4
11.8%
1
1
2.9%
1
1
2.9%
1
2
5.9%
Kraters Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs
1
Juglets/flasks
2
Lamps
1
2
5.9%
1
2.9%
Miniature Vessels Cultic Vessels Other Total
18
Other small finds
1
3
7 1
3
1 5
38 11
2
34 8
282
Tables
Table XIII: Distribution of vessels and objects, Tel Mevorakh, Stratum X Temple Interior
Above Stratum XI Podium
Vessel type/Locus
L248
L196
L195
L184
Total
%
Bowls
4
2
2
3
11
45.8%
(Imported)
2
1
1
3
7
Goblets
1
2
3
12.5%
Chalices
1
2
4
16.7%
1 (?)
1
4.2%
1
1
4.2%
1
1
4.2%
1
Kraters Cooking pots/trays Jars/pithoi Jugs Juglets/flasks Lamps
2
2
8.3%
Miniature Vessels
1
1
4.2%
10
24
17
19
Cultic Vessels Other Total
6
Other small finds
2
6
2
Temple Interior
Temple Interior East
South of Stratum XI Podium
Vessel type/Locus
L275
L272
L254 + 254A
L234+234A
L193
L200A
L199
Bowls
2
1
1
1
5
1
(Imported)
2
2
L218
Total
%
1
12
54.5%
1
5
1
2
9.1%
1
4.5%
2
9.1%
3
13.6%
Goblets Chalices Kraters
1
Cooking pots/trays
1
Jars/pithoi
2
Jugs
1
1
1
Juglets/flasks
1
1
4.5%
Lamps
1
1
4.5%
Miniature Vessels Cultic Vessels Other Total Other small finds
5
1
2
2
8
2
2
6
2
22 1
9
Tables
283
Table XIV: Overall assemblages, according to vessel types, of cultic sites analyzed in Chapter 13 (in percent) MB Cultic Sites
Tell el Hayyat
Vessel type/ Stratum/Phase Bowls
Phase 5
Phase 4
24.0%
16.1%
Lachish
Tel Haror
Phase 3
Area D
34.0%
21.4%
Stratum VI 34.5%
Sidon Stratum V 28.8%
Goblets
Stratum IV 35.6%
Room 2 15.4%
2.0%
Chalices
0.7%
Kraters
1.2% 2.0%
Cooking pots/trays
15.6%
26.9%
35.6%
8.3%
3.4%
3.4%
3.6%
Jars/pithoi
60.4%
57.0%
30.4%
13.1%
10.3%
1.4%
5.6%
6.9%
2.1%
2.4%
6.9%
13.7%
7.2%
8.4%
3.2%
72.9%
Jugs Juglets/flasks
1.2%
Lamps Miniature Vessels
51.2%
Cultic Stands
3.6%
37.9%
1.1%
43.2%
21.2%
1.8%
6.8%
16.0%
0.2%
Cup-And-Saucer Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other small vessels
1.2%
LB Cultic Sites
Lachish
Beth Shean
Tel Nami
Vessel type/Stratum/Phase
Acropolis
Temple 58066
Shrine
Bowls
66.9%
54.4%
60.8%
Goblets
0.8%
1.3%
0.8%
Chalices
0.4%
1.3%
2.7%
Kraters
6.8%
7.6%
4.0%
Cooking pots/trays
3.8%
3.8%
5.8%
Jars/pithoi
6.0%
16.5%
13.5%
Jugs
6.4%
Juglets/flasks
1.9%
Lamps
0.4%
Miniature Vessels
3.3% 1.3%
2.0% 4.2%
1.3%
1.6%
Cultic Stands
0.4%
0.5%
Cup-And-Saucer
1.5%
0.1%
Scoops Kernoi/zoomorphic vessels Other
0.2% 5.3%
12.7%
0.6%
0.1%
284
Tables
Table XV: Breakdown of assemblages, by room, of courtyard house in MB Hazor, Area C, Stratum 3 Area C
Stratum 3
Vessel type/Locus
6103 (room)
Bowls
6205 (courtyard)
6203 (room)
5
Goblets
6191
6192
Total
%
6
11
26.8%
1
1
2.4%
1
1
2.4%
1
7
17.1%
10
24.4%
6
14.6%
5
12.2%
Chalices Kraters Cooking pots/trays
3
2
1
Jars/pithoi
6
1
3
2
2
Jugs
1
Juglets/flasks
1
5
Lamps Other Total
1
19
12
6
3
41
Tables
285
Table XVI: Breakdown of assemblages, by rooms, of Courtyard Building 00/K/10, Iron I Megiddo Megiddo Courtyard Building 00/K/10 Vessel type/Locus
00/K/10
98/K/70
00/K/87
Bowls
1
2
1
Goblets
1
Chalices
1
00/K/22
98/K/77
98/K/46
1
00/K/51
00/K/45 Total
%
5
3
13
13.1%
1
1
3
3.0%
1
4
4.0%
2
Kraters
1
1
2
2.0%
Cooking pots/trays
2
4
1
4
1
1
13
13.1%
Jars/pithoi
8
4
1
16
1
5
41
41.4%
Jugs
2
1
6
6.1%
Juglets/flasks
1
3
14
14.1%
1
1
1.0%
1
1.0%
2 3
1
6 1
5
1
Lamps Miniature Vessels Cultic Stands
1
Other
1
Total
16
11
6
1
32
10
7
00/K/22
98/K/77
98/K/46
3.1%
50.0%
1
1.0%
16
99
100.0%
00/K/51
00/K/45
Percentages within Courtyard Building 00/K/10 Vessel type/Locus
00/K/10
98/K/70
00/K/87
Bowls
6.3%
18.2%
16.7%
Goblets
6.3%
Chalices
6.3%
18.8%
10.0%
6.3%
6.3%
Kraters
6.3% 10.0%
6.3% 6.3%
Cooking pots
12.5%
36.4%
16.7%
12.5%
10.0%
Jars/pithoi
50.0%
36.1%
16.7%
50.0%
10.0%
Jugs
12.5%
9.1%
Juglets/flasks
6.3%
6.3% 50.0%
100.0%
15.7%
Lamps
85.7%
31.3%
14.3% 10.0%
18.8% 6.3%
Miniatures Cultic Stands
3.1%
Other
3.10%
Figures
288
Figures
Fig. 1.1a: The main sites discussed or mentioned in this text, southern Levant 1 Nahariya 2 Cave near Qedesh 3 Hazor 4 Tell Abu Hawam 5 Tel Nami 6 Tel Mevorakh 7 Megiddo 8 Tel ‘Ashir 9 Tel Kitan
10 Beth Shean 11 Pella 12 Tell el-Hayyat 13 Tell Abu AlKharaz 14 Shechem 15 Gezer 16 Givat Sharett 17 Naḥal Repha’im
18 Manaḥat 19 al-Walajah 20 Ashkelon 21 Lachish 22 Tel Haror 23 Sidon 24 Byblos 25 Kamid el-Loz 26 Ugarit
27 Alalakh 28 Ebla 29 Aleppo 30 Tall Bazi 31 Emar 32 Mari 33 Tell Kazel 34 Tell el-Dab‘a
Figures
Fig. 1.1b: Main sites from Lebanon and Syria mentioned in the text
Fig. 1.1c: The Egyptian delta region, with the site of Tell el-Dab‘a marked
289
290
Figures
Fig. 1.2: Chart explaining high, middle and low-level theories. HLT = high-level theory; MLT = middlelevel theory; and BLT = basic-level theory, what I have referred to as low-level theory. Each part of the dissertation relates to one of these levels: Part II uses BLT, Part III uses MLT, and Part IV uses HLT (Yoffee 2005: Fig. 8.1) 1. Chapter 2
Period
Date (B.C.E.)
MB I
2000/1950–1750/1730
MB II
1750/1730–1650
MB III
1650–1550/1500
LB IA
1550–1479
LB IB
1479–1375
LB IIA
1375–1300
LB IIB
1300–1190
LB III/Iron IA Transition
1190–1140
Fig. 2.1: Table of MB and LB chronology followed by this study (following Ilan 1995; Panitz-Cohen 2014)
Figures
291
Fig. 3.1: Comparison, according to Mazar, between migdal temples from the southern Levant (3–8) and parallels from the north (9–13). From the southern Levant: 3–4 are the Strata 3 and 1B Orthostat Temple from Area H at Hazor, respectively; 5 is the LB Northern Temple from Area A at Hazor; 6 is the migdal temple from Shechem; and 7–8 are Strata X and VIII, respectively, from Area BB at Megiddo. From the north: 9–10 are MB temples from Ebla, Temple N and Temple D, respectively; 11 is an LB temple from Tell Mumbaqat; and 12–13 are Strata IV and VII from LB and MB Alalakh, respectively (Mazar 1992: Fig. 3)
292
Figures
Fig. 3.2: Temples with Raised Holy-of-Holies. These temples relate to Egyptian influences. Lachish Acropolis Temple (1) is the settlement’s latest LB phase, Stratum VI. Beth Shean LB IIB Level VII Temple 1072 (2) and Iron IA Level VI Temple 1032 (4). 3 is the Level V Northern Temple at Beth Shean, constructed in the Iron I post-Egyptian rule and not constructed in accordance with the two previous levels’ Egyptianizing Temples with Raised-Holy-of-Holies (Stern 1984: Fig. IVa)
Figures
293
Fig. 3.3: LB and Iron Age temples with indirect entrances and irregular plans from the southern Levant and Cyprus (adapted from Mazar 1980: 63, Fig. 15). A: Hazor, Area C Stelae Temple. B: Tell Qasile, Stratum XII. C: Lachish, Fosse Temple I. D: Lachish, Fosse Temple III. E: Tel Mevorakh Stratum XI. F: Beth Shean Northern Temple, Level V. G: Tell Abu Hawam, Stratum IV Temple 30. H: Tel Nami, LB Sanctuary (Salmon 2001: Fig. 10). I: Tell Qasile, Stratum XI. J: Tell Qasile, Stratum X. K–M: Temples 2, 4 and 5, respectively, at LB–Iron Kition, Cyprus. N: Beth Shean, LB I Temple 58066 of Stratum R-2 (image taken from Kamlah 2012: Fig. 2)
294
Figures
Fig. 3.4: Plan of the Upper Citadel of Tiryns with passageways labeled in grey and liminal points circled, late palatial period, ca. 1250 B.C.E. (Maran 2009: Tafel 13, after Müller 1930: Pl. 1)
Figures
Fig. 4.1: Nahariya, Stratum V (Naeh 2012a: Fig. 1.7, after unpublished Zuckerman plans)
295
296
Figures
Fig. 4.2: Nahariya Stratum IV (Naeh 2012a: Fig. 1.10, after unpublished Zuckerman plans)
Figures
Fig. 4.3: Nahariya Stratum III (Naeh 2012a: Fig. 1.20, after unpublished Zuckerman plans)
297
298
Figures
Fig. 4.4: Temple of the Obelisks at Byblos (Dunand 1958: Fig. 767)
Figures
Fig. 4.5: Cultic Precinct at Megiddo, Area BB, Stratum XIV (Loud 1948 Fig. 395)
299
300
Figures
Fig.4.6: Cultic Precinct at Megiddo, Area BB, Stratum XII. The precinct and maṣṣebot are featured in the center (Kempinski 1989: Plan 3)
Figures
301
Fig. 4.7: Hazor Area A, MB Complex of Standing Stones, Stratum XVI (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: Plan 3.15)
Fig. 4.8: Standing stones and basin at Gezer "High Place" (Dever 2014: Fig. 5)
302
Figures
Fig. 4.9: Plan of Gezer's "High Place", lacking architecture around the standing stones, indicated with an arrow (marked as dots in a line in the center of the plan) and with the paved platform indicated (Dever 2014: Fig. 2)
Figures
303
Site/Migdal Temples
Strata
Periods
Ugarit Hazor Southern Temple (Area A)
N/A Strata XVII–XV
MB (?)–LB MB II–MB III/LB I
Hazor Northern Temple (Area A) Hazor Building 7050 (Area A) Hazor Orthostat Temple (Area H) Megiddo Shechem Pella Tel Haror Tell el-Dab'a Tell el-Hayyat Tel Kitan
Strata XV(?)–XIV Strata XIV–XIII Strata 3–1A Strata X–VIA Strata XVI–XV Phases 1–4 Strata VI–IV Strata F–E/1 Phases 5–2 Strata V–IV
LB I (?)–LBIIA LB IIA–LBIIB MB III–LB IIB MB III–Iron I MB III (–LB/Iron I?) MB I–LB IB/LB IIA MB III MB II–MB III/LB I MB I–MB III MB II–MB III
Fig.4.10: Migdal temples analyzed in Chapter 4, showing site stratigraphy and the periods of their use (for references, see in text Sections 4.4, 4.5)
Fig. 4.11: Acropolis at Ugarit in the LB, with the Temple of Ba'al to the west (left) and the Temple of Dagan on the east (right) (Schaeffer 1935: Pl. XXXVI)
304
Figures
Fig. 4.12: Ugarit, Plan of LB Temple of Ba'al with courtyard and additional walls exposed (Schaeffer 1949: Fig. 2)
Figures
Fig. 4.13: Southern Temple in Area A, Hazor Strata XVII–XV (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: Plan 3.8)
305
306
Figures
Fig. 4.14: Northern Temple in Area A, Hazor Stratum 8 (Bonfil 1997: Plan II.7)
Figures
Fig. 4.15: Building 7050 in Area A, Hazor, Stratum XIV (Ben-Tor et al. 2017: Plan 4.4)
307
308
Figures
Fig. 4.16: Orthostat Temple Sequence, Strata 3–1A, Area H, Hazor (Ben-Tor 1989: Plan XLI)
Figures
Fig. 4.17: Orthostat Temple, Stratum 3, Area H, Hazor (Ben-Tor 1989: Plan XXXVII)
Fig. 4.18: Orthostat Temple, Stratum 2, Area H, Hazor (Ben-Tor 1989: Plan XXXVIII)
309
310
Figures
Fig. 4.19: Orthostat Temple, Stratum 1B, Area H, Hazor (Ben-Tor 1989: Plan XXXIX)
Fig. 4.20: Orthostat Temple, Stratum 1A, Area H, Hazor (Ben-Tor 1989: Plan XL)
Figures
311
Fig. 4.21: Reconstructions of the LB Strata VIII–VIIA of Temple 2048 at Megiddo, Area BB, a migdal temple (Loud 1948: Fig. 247). The temple was first established in Stratum X, MB III (Dunayevski and Kempinski 1973: 180–182; cf. Fig. 5.1 for Stratum X layout)
312
Figures
Fig. 4.22: Plan of Shechem, with principal monumental remains. The areas excavated by the American mission are marked with Roman numerals and the additional areas that are outlined were exposed by the previous German excavators of the site. The migdal temple (V) is located near the Northwest Gate (Wright 2002: Ill. 2)
Figures
Fig. 4.23: Shechem, MB migdal temple. Stone-by-stone plan, detailing pillar bases in the interior as well as the two standing stone sockets flanking the entrance of the temple (Wright 2002: Ill. 62)
313
314
Figures
Fig. 4.24: Schematic plans of temple sequence at Pella (Bourke 2012: Table 1)
Figures
Fig. 4.25: Tel Haror migdal temple and associated courtyards, colored according to strata (Nahshoni 2016: Fig. 2)
315
316
Figures
Fig. 4.26: Temple Precinct at Tell el-Dab‘a, migdal temple to the south, Area A/II, Strata E/3–2 (Bietak 2003b: Fig. 2)
Figures
Fig. 4.27: Phases 5–2 of the temples from Tell el-Hayyat (Falconer and Fall 2006: Fig. 3.1)
317
318
Figures
Fig. 4.28: Tel Kitan, Stratum V megaron temple facing standing stones to the east (Eisenberg 1977: 80)
Fig. 4.29: Stratum IV temple at Tel Kitan (Eisenberg 1977: 80)
Figures
Fig. 4.30: MB I–II Topographical Map of Ebla with multiple migdal temples from Areas B, D, G, HH, N and P (adapted from Matthiae 2013: Pl. 3)
319
320
Figures
Fig. 4.31: Temple D, Ebla, ca. 2000–1600 B.C.E., from the sacred area on the acropolis, possibly dedicated to Ishtar (Matthiae 2013: Pl. 82)
Figures
Fig. 4.32: Shrine G3, Ebla, ca. 1800–1600 B.C.E., just south of Temple D on the acropolis, a smaller version of a megaron temple, (Matthiae 2013: Pl. 83a)
321
322
Figures
Fig. 4.33: Temple B1, Ebla, ca. 1800–1600 B.C.E. (Matthiae 2013: Pl. 86)
Figures
Fig. 4.34: Temple P2, Ebla, ca. 2000–1600 B.C.E., from the lower tell near Monument P3 (Matthiae 2013: Pl. 80b)
323
324
Figures
Fig. 4.35: Temple N, Ebla, ca. 1800–1600 B.C.E., lower tell (Matthiae 2013: Pl. 87)
Figures
325
Fig. 4.36: Temple Sequence from Area HH, Ebla, with the earliest temple constructed in the EB IVA period, ca. 2400–2300 B.C.E. and ending in the MB II at the site, ca. 1600 B.C.E. (Matthiae 2013: Pl. 12b)
Fig. 4.37: Reconstruction of MB temple at Givat Sharett (adapted from Bahat 1976: Plan 3)
326
Figures
Fig. 4.38: Reconstruction of the proposed MB temple structure at Naḥal Repha’im (Eisenberg 1993: 92)
Figures
Fig. 4.39: Building 106 at MB Manaḥat, suggested as cultic in nature according to the excavators, and surrounding structures (Edelstein et al. 1998: Plan 3.2)
327
328
Figures
Fig. 4.40: MB Temple at al-Walajah. Much of the walls, especially to the west, are missing due to erosion (Ein Mor 2015: 16)
Figures
Fig. 4.41: Building 179 on the road leading to the city gate, Gate 4, at Ashkelon, located in Grid 2, Phase 11, MB III, ca. 1650–1600 B.C.E. (adapted from Stager et al. 2008: Fig. 14.30)
329
330
Figures
Fig. 4.42: Fosse Temple I (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. LXVI)
Figures
Fig. 4.43: Fosse Temple II (Tufnell et al. 1940: LXVII)
331
332
Figures
Fig. 4.44: Fosse Temple III (Tufnell et al. 1940: LXXIII)
Figures
Fig. 4.45: The Acropolis Temple, Lachish, Stratum VI (Ussishkin 2004: Fig. 6.2)
333
334
Figures
Fig. 4.46: Reconstruction of the Acropolis Temple, Lachish, Stratum VI (Ussishkin 2004: Fig. 6.4)
Fig. 4.47: Isometric Reconstruction of Temple 58066, Beth Shean, Stratum R-2, LB I (Mullins 2012: Fig. 1, after Mullins and Mazar 2007: 114, Fig. 3.19)
Figures
Fig. 4.48: Plan of Temples 1230 and 1234 at Beth Shean, Level IX/Stratum R-1, late 15th–14th century B.C.E. (Mullins 2012: Fig. 2, after McGovern 1985: 12, Map 4)
Fig. 4.49: Plan of Stratum VII with Temple 1072, Beth Shean (Mullins 2012: Fig. 5, after Panitz-Cohen and Mazar, ed., 2009: 6, Fig. 1.2)
335
336
Figures
Fig. 4.50: Isometric Reconstruction of Temple 1072, Beth Shean, Stratum VII (Rowe 1940: Fig. 3)
Fig. 4.51: Tel Mevorakh temple, Stratum XI (Stern 1984: Fig. 24)
Figures
Fig. 4.52: Reconstruction of Tel Mevorakh temple, Stratum XI with find spots of some vessels (Stern 1984: Fig. II)
Fig. 4.53: Tel Mevorakh temple, Stratum X (Stern 1984: Fig. 23)
337
338
Figures
Fig. 4.54: Hazor Area C Stelae Temple, Stratum 1B on the right and Stratum 1A on the left (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. CLXXXI)
Fig. 4.55: Plan of Area C at Hazor, Stratum 1B, including temple (circled) and surrounding neighborhood (Yadin et al. 1960: Pl. CCVIII)
Figures
339
Fig. 4.56: Plan of Area C at Hazor, Stratum 1A, including temple (circled) and surrounding neighborhood (Yadin et al. 1960: Pl. CCIX)
Fig. 4.57: City Plan of Tell Abu Hawam, Stratum V, with “temple” Building 50 to the East, circled (Herzog 1997: Fig. 4.28, after Hamilton 1934: Pl. XI)
340
Figures
Fig. 4.58: City Plan of Tell Abu Hawam, Stratum IV, with “temple” Building 30 to the East, circled (Hamilton 1935: Pl. IV)
Fig. 4.59: Plan of Phase VII temple at Tell Abu al-Kharaz, LB IB/LB IIA (Fischer 2006b: Fig. 29)
Figures
341
2. Chapter 5
Fig. 5.1: Megiddo migdal temple, Stratum X, with reconstruction of possible paths of mobility through the surrounding courtyard and structures (Dunayevsky and Kempinski 1973: Fig. 15) 3. Chapter 6
342
Figures
Fig. 6.1: Example of a Mesopotamian temple, with multiple chambers, side rooms for administrative and other purposes, and internal courtyard space, Tell Rimah, ca. 1800 B.C.E. (adapted from Hundley 2013: Fig. 3.8)
Figures
Fig. 6.2: Example of a floorplan of an Old Babylonian House, in Area TB Level II at Nippur, ca 2000–1600 B.C.E. (Roaf 1995: Fig. 4)
Fig. 6.3: Example of southern Levantine dwellings, MB, Megiddo Stratum XII (Ben-Dov 1992: Fig. 4, after Loud 1948: Fig. 378)
343
344
Figures
Fig. 6.4: Example of a courtyard layout of a southern Levantine palace. Plan of the MB II palatial complex from Kabri as it last stood in Phase III with a central courtyard (611) surrounded by other chambers, ceremonial halls (2372) and storage facilities (2440, 2520, 2533, 2546) (courtesy of Assaf Yasur-Landau)
Fig. 8.1: Chart of Hazor Area H vessel percentages according to Strata. Sample size: 487 total ceramic vessels were included in this chart. Data is from Hazor III-IV (Yadin et al. 1961: Pls. CCLIX–CCLXXXV, CCCXXIV–CCCXLIII; Ben-Tor 1989: 212–275). See Table II for specific breakdowns by quantities and types
Figures
Fig. 8.2: Flat-lying basalt stone, possibly an offering table, next to two basalt stones with rounded tops from Hazar Area H Stratum 3 (MB) cella (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CIV:4)
345
346
Figures
Fig. 8.3: Basalt offering tables from Hazor, Area H temple, Strata 1B and 1A (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXII): 1–3, 6 are Stratum 1A, 4–5 are Stratum 1B)
Figures
Fig. 8.4: Bronze plaque depicting a Canaanite elite, Hazor Area H, Stratum 2, LB I (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXIX:1)
347
348
Figures
Fig. 8.5: Seated figure, decapitated, recovered from Hazor Area H cella, Stratum 1B favissa (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXX)
Fig. 8.7: Drawing of the torso of the basalt statue recovered from Hazor, Area H, Stratum 1B (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXIV: 1)
Fig. 8.6: Basalt figurines, of the torso of a male and a bull, possibly originally of the same statue with the bull as the base, or pedestal of the figure above. There are remains of broken feet still attached to the top of the bull. Hazor, Stratum 1B, Area H temple (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXV)
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Fig. 8.8: Inscribed liver models from Hazor, Area H, Stratum 2 (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXV) 4. Chapter 9
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Fig. 9.1: Chart of Hazor Area C vessel percentages according to Strata. Sample Size: 45 total ceramic vessels were included in this chart. Data is from Hazor I and Hazor II (Yadin et al. 1958: 71–98, Pls. XXII–XXXI, LXXXV–XCII, CLXII; Yadin et al. 1960: 76–126, Pls. XXIV–XXXVII, CXVII–CXXVII, CLXXXI–CLXXXIII). See Table VII for specific breakdowns by quantities and types
Fig. 9.2: Stelae found in Stratum 1A Stelae Temple, Hazor, LB IIB (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. XXIX:1)
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Fig. 9.3: Stele 6, central stele carved in relief from the Stelae Temple, Hazor, Stratum 1A, LB IIB (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. XXIX:2)
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Fig. 9.4: Basalt statue engraved with a crescent, Stelae Temple, Hazor, Stratum 1A (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. XXXI:1)
Fig. 9.5: Crude stone figurines recovered from Hazor, Stelae Temple, Stratum 1B/1A (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. CLXII: 5–7)
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Fig. 9.6: Mask, next to potter’s wheel, recovered from Locus 6211, Area C, Stratum 1B at Hazor (Yadin et al. 1960: CLXXXII)
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Fig. 9.7: Bronze cult standard depicting a female holding two snakes and beneath a lunar emblem, Locus 6211, Hazor, Stratum 1B (Yadin et al. 1960: CLXXXI) 5. Chapter 10
Fig. 10.1: Chart of overall assemblages, by strata, of the Lachish Fosse Temple. Sample size: 2,271 total ceramic vessels were included in this chart. Data is from Tufnell et al. 1940: Pls. XXXVII–LXV. See Table VIII for specific breakdowns by quantities and types
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Fig. 10.2: Distribution of finds from Lachish Fosse Temple I, based on Tufnell et al. 1940 and the tables and charts I created
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Fig. 10.3: Distribution of finds from Lachish Fosse Temple II, based on Tufnell et al. 1940 and the tables and charts I created
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Fig. 10.4a: Distribution of Finds from Lachish Fosse Temple III, north half, based on Tufnell et al. 1940 and the tables and charts I created
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Fig. 10.4b: Distribution of Finds from Lachish Fosse Temple III, south half, based on Tufnell et al. 1940 and the tables and charts I created
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Fig. 10.5: Bronze figurine of a male deity, possibly Reshef, recovered from Lachish Fosse Temple I, LB I (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XXVI: 32)
Fig. 10.6: Crude ceramic figurine recovered from Fosse Temple III, Room D podium (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XXVIII:2)
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Fig. 10.7: Iconography from Fosse Temple pottery: 1–4 are kraters from Phase III bearing animal and tree iconography (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XLVIII:248–251); 5 is a goblet from E II/Pit 172 of the temple depicting two gazelles on either side of a pubic triangle (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. XLVII:229); 6 is the inscribed ewer from Phase III depicting trees, ibexes, and other quadrupeds (Hestrin 1987: Pl. 28A)
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Fig. 10.8: Lachish ewer, drawing detailing the depictions and inscription, Fosse Temple III (Tufnell et al. 1940: Pl. LX: 3)
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Fig. 11.1: Chart of overall assemblages, by strata, of the temples at Tel Mevorakh. Sample size: 132 total ceramic vessels were included in this chart. Data is from the Tel Mevorakh publication, Stern 1984: 4–44, Figs. 1–10, 22–24. See Table X for quantities.
Fig. 11.2: Chalice and goblet recovered from the Tel Mevorakh temple, Stratum XI, bearing animal iconography (Stern 1984: Fig. 6)
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Fig. 11.3: Bronze snake, Tel Mevorakh, found in Locus 185 of Stratum X temple, ca. 20 cm long (Stern 1984: Fig. 3:1)
Fig. 11.4: Pair of cymbals recovered from Tel Mevorakh temple, Stratum X (Stern 1984: Fig. 3:2)
6. Chapter 12
Fig. 12.1: Miniature vessels from Nahariya, including 7–cupped bowls, miniature bowls, goblets, juglets and amphoriskos (from Ziffer 1990: Fig. 128)
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Fig. 12.2: Bronze and silver figurines of female deities, recovered mainly from Strata V and IV at MB Nahariya (Dothan 1956: Pl. 5)
Fig. 12.3: Stone mould for producing a female figurine recovered from the bammah in Stratum IV (Dothan 1956: Pl. 6)
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Fig. 13.1: Chart of all sites in case studies. Overall assemblages per site and stratum including interior and exterior spaces. Sample size is not possible for Nahariya, as the assessment is based on percentages provided by Naeh, in coordination with her work on the assemblages with Zuckerman, still unpublished
Fig. 13.2: Chart of assemblages from temple interiors, noting the heavy concentration of bowls in these spaces. This data was compiled from Tables III–VII, IX, XI, and XII
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Fig. 13.3: Chart of all cultic sites analyzed in this study. The data was compiled from a number of sources and is presented in Table XIII. Lachish Area D: Ussishkin 2004: 283–297; Singer-Avitz 2004: 901–913, Figs. 16.1–16.8. Tell el-Hayyat: Falconer and Fall 2006: Figs. 4.1, 4.2, 4.4–4.9, and 4.15. Tel Haror: Katz 2009: 42–58, 61–67, Tables 1–8. Sidon Room 2: Doumet-Serhal and Shahud 2013. Tel Nami: Personal communications from Stidsing and Artzy, 2017, unpublished but processed material and assemblages. Lachish Acropolis: Clamer 2004: 1288– 1325, Figs. 21.1–21.26. Beth Shean temple 58066: in Mazar and Mullins 2007: 464–475, Pls. 38–43)
Fig. 14.1: Comparative chart showing Daviau’s domestic activity paradigm and domestic structures analyzed in the text. MB Hazor, Area C, Stratum 3: Yadin et al. 1960: Pls. CIX–CXV, CCVII. Two domestic structures from Tel Batash: Panitz-Cohen 2011: 87–93, Table 1. Megiddo Iron I Courtyard Building from Area K: Arie 2006. Tall Bazi: Einwag and Otto 2001. Sample sizes: 41 vessels from Hazor; 170 vessels from Building 475, Tel Batash; 97 from Building 315, Tel Batash; 99 vessels from Megiddo; and 70 from Tall Bazi
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Fig. 16.1: Examples of lion motifs from scarabs, cylinder seals, and amulets in the MB: (a) a scarab from Tell el-Far‘ah (S) (Schroer 2008: 218–219, #454); (b) a cylinder seal from the palace at Tell el-Dab‘a, which depicts in the lower register a lion stretching toward a snake (Porada 1984: Ill. 1); (c) a lion amulet from the temple at Nahariya (Dothan 1956: Pl. 4:A,B)
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Fig. 16.2: Large lion orthostats made from basalt: (a) the lion orthostat recovered from the temple in Area H (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl.: CCCXXVIII); (b) the lion orthostat found in secondary use in Area A (Ben-Tor 2006: Fig. 1)
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Fig. 16.3: (a) Basalt head of a lioness orthostat (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXIX); (b) small basalt lion orthostat from Area C Stelae Temple (Yadin et al. 1958: Pl. XXX: 2)
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Fig. 16.4: Seated figures on lion-footed thrones: (a) a basalt statuette recovered from Hazor, Area H, Stratum 1A (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXVII); (b) stele of a seated male, possibly a deity, sitting on a lion-footed throne, of likely LB origin from the area of Tell Beit Mirsim, on display at the Hecht Museum at the University of Haifa (photograph taken by author)
Fig. 16.5: Seated bronze figurine of a deity upon a lion-footed throne, Byblos (Negbi 1976: Fig. 55). Found out of context, near Byblos temples (ibid: 171), with the closest parallels from LB contexts at other sites (ibid: 57, Table 8)
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Fig. 16.6: LB Stele from Ugarit, of a deity, possibly El, seated upon a lion-footed throne (Schaeffer 1937: Pl. XVII)
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Fig. 16.7: (a) Megiddo ivory depicting a prince seated upon a lion-footed throne during a celebration or procession, LB (Loud 1939: Pl. 4: 2b); (b) later Iron Age (ca. 10th century B.C.E.) sarcophagus of Ahiram, king of Byblos, deceased, seated upon a lion-footed, and winged, throne (Schroer 2011: 388–389, #962)
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Fig. 16.8: Ceremonial basin recovered from Building 7050, Area A, Hazor. Made from basalt (Bonfil 2011: Fig. 5a)
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Fig. 16.9: Basalt objects from Area H: (a) broken statuette, male torso, possibly of a deity that stood upon a bull, bearing the same emblem as that from the ceremonial basin in Area A, found in Stratum 1B (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXIV:1, CCCXXV:1); (b) altar from the cella of Area H temple, Stratum 1A, with same motif as the statuette in (a) and the ceremonial basin from Area A (Yadin et al. 1961: Pl. CCCXXXI: 1–3); (c) large basalt krater with the same decorative motif as the ceremonial basin from Area A (ibid: Pl. CCCXXXI: 4)